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The Facility

by CallousDegen (ao3)

Chapter 1: Beginnings

“Take her to room 10B”

You hear a smooth, deep voice commanding someone, but the sound is still muddled and muted as your senses are still recovering upon waking. Your eyes try to adjust, but you can only see the shape of a man’s head surrounded by a halo of light from what you suppose is a ceiling light. It dawns on you that you are not in a bed, and instead are being held tightly in the arms of whoever you are seeing now. One of the man’s arms is supporting your knees, which are bent and angled downward, while the other is propping up your back and neck, his hand wrapping around your left forearm. When you try to move your downward-dangling arms from behind you , you feel a tight, cold grasp on them from what feels like a metal cuff, presumably one wrapped around both wrists and extending from your wrists to just below your elbows. Your eyes widen now, but your senses are still dulled. You see the head figure tilt downward, as if looking at you.

“I think she’s waking up.”

You try to turn your head to whoever it is that this man may be talking to but can’t seem to move much just yet. You feel weak, drained of energy for reasons you can’t bring yourself to remember. In fact, you have no recollection of where you are, how you got here, or who you were before this. Trying to remember makes your head feel numb and filled with what you can only describe as TV static, the way a limb feels when you’ve sat or leaned on it for too long. Perhaps these men have you on some kind of drug, but you don’t know for sure. With how woozy you feel, you can only presume it’s either that, or you’re mentally unsound as a result of blunt force, though you don’t feel pain anywhere on your body that can confirm this.

“Good, then you can start getting her ready,” responds the first voice from before. You try to move your eyes to see the person talking, but can’t get a good angle. You only see a dark shape with a tinge of blond hair from the corner of your eyes. As quickly as you spotted it, the figure disappears after giving the man holding you his response.

“I know you can hear me,” he speaks to you, using a gentler tone than before. “Please don’t worry. We’ll get you a bed where you’ll be nice and comfortable. We want to take good care of you, my dear.”

Then why am I…

You try to wiggle your wrists out of the contraption binding your arms but can’t even manage that. The man holding you begins to walk, and the light surrounding him slowly disappears. The man’s face is lost in darkness for a moment before another halo of light passes by, and another, and another…

With each motion, you hear the tapping of footsteps, the sort produced by loafers pressing and clacking against shiny linoleum. Are you in a hospital, you wonder? A school? An office?

You then notice that your legs are bare from the knees down, as you can feel the flesh of the man’s fingers touching your own. You can see based off the view of your knees and chest that you’re wearing some kind of white smock or gown that looks to be similar to a hospital gown, but doesn’t seem to actually be one. It looks and feels more uniform and clean, more decorated and delicate than a dingy old hospital gown. Is it some kind of dress?

Soon, the man holding you stops and turns, and you can hear an automatic door open, making a light grinding metallic sound as the automated system controlling it is put to work. As you pass by the doorway, you can see that it’s made of some kind of metal and has a sleek design, almost like you’d see in some kind of sci-fi show or movie. You can also see a bright white ceiling and white walls to match, contrasting the somewhat darkened and dimly lit hallway from before that seemed eerie in comparison. It’s strange to you that this place would have nicer secluded rooms than open areas.

Suddenly, you feel your body being gently lowered onto an almost puffy bed, one with sheets that have soft fibers which, collectively, feel like silk. If this is a hospital, it must be a very fancy one. You are first seated, with your back being held at an angle to keep you sitting up and preventing you from falling over. You hear the rubbing of metal from behind you as the hand of the man who was holding you glides over whatever contraption is binding your arms in search of its releasing mechanism. When he finds it, he presses it somewhat forcefully, and you can feel the metal band pop open with a loud CLACK noise. Though your hands are now free, you still cannot move them on your own, so the man gently separates each arm and places them on either side of you.

The man lowers your head onto a soft pillow, and you realize that the bed is angled upward so that you aren’t laying flat. You get a clear view of this man’s torso as he moves you: He’s wearing a white lab coat over a soft and dark blue long-sleeve shirt with a grey-patterned tie sticking out from under his collar. You can’t make out any sort of name tag, but see that he has a breast pocket on his coat with one lone pen. As he leans inward to position your head on the pillow, you can smell the scent of musky and somewhat sweet cologne, a smell that you can’t quite place but is somehow alluring.

The man’s body is so close to you as he adjusts your head that you can feel its heat, and as he moves his fingers around your scalp to make sure the pillow is set and comfortable for you, you blush slightly. His handling of you seems gentle and loving, and you can’t bring yourself to be afraid of him just yet—not until you have a reason to. Your host seems to notice your reaction to him, because he leans away and looks you in the eye with a gentle, assuring, and friendly smile.

The man’s face is well-structured, handsome. His sharp yet gentle jawline glides smoothly from his chin, and his eyes are soft and olive-colored. Upon his nose is the thick rim of his rectangular-shaped glasses that frame and compliment the rest of his face. His hair extends outward and is somewhat medium cut, dark, and incredibly soft. He has what would seem like a messy cut, but pulls it off in such an endearing way that completes his look as a doctor, or scientist, or whatever else that he might be.

You try to speak to him in want of asking where you are but find that whatever drugs these people have pumped into you have not completely worn off. You are slightly more aware of things now, but still unable to move any part of your body than your eyes with any ability above a slight tremble.

“Please, just wait for a moment and be patient, okay?” the man gently requests, placing his hand lightly on your shoulder. “We’ll get you ready very soon. But first, I’ll need to strap you in, it’s protocol”

Strap me in?!

To your alarm, the man now reaches over to pull a strap from your right side of the bed and wraps it around your right wrist. He repeats this action for your left wrist and your ankles using straps from each edge of the bed, but he makes sure to bind you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you and to show that he’s trying to be kind. His dark hair moves forward to cover his face as he tightens the straps around your wrists and ankles, and you wonder if he’s grinning evilly from behind his veil. This is wrong, and you know it. You just don’t know why yet.

“There,” your captor(?) smiles at you when he’s finished, acting gently and boyish. Is it a ruse? You wonder to yourself. Is he going to kill me? Experiment on me?

“I see you still seem to be worried,” the man frowns slightly as he gazes upon your eyes. “I apologize for having to keep you in the dark, but I promise that we aren’t here to hurt you. In fact, we’ve brought you here for the opposite reason.”

We?

He shakes his head. “But, now’s not the time to explain. I have to take your vitals now that the drugs are wearing off, before we can do anything else.”

The man moves away from you and toward a cabinet across from your bed. You are still unable to see the entire room because you still can’t move your head, but you can make out what looks like the décor of an average checkup room in any hospital or doctor’s office. You aren’t off to the side of the room, but rather in the middle of it. Though the general feel of the area is familiar to you given how it's dressed up, it’s hauntingly wrong for reasons you can’t pinpoint. The bright white walls are too bright, the bed is too soft and too big…

The man comes back with a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in his right hand. He smiles again and sits on a stool that had been just behind and to the left of your bed somewhere. He leans in close to you with his stethoscope and places the flat end over your chest, examining your heartbeat.

“My name is Doctor Yosuke Chisaka, but you’re more than welcome to just call me Yosuke,” he says softly, so as to still hear your heartbeat clearly. “I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here and arranging all your visits.”

He moves the stethoscope away from your chest and writes a note of your pulse on his chart, using the pen from his outer lab coat pocket.

“It seems that the drugs we put you under with are finally starting to wear off, though your mobility won’t come back for just a little while longer.” Yosuke gives a bit of a chuckle after saying this. “I know it must be extremely unsettling not to be able to move your body, but I promise, you are safe.”

No I’m not! You want to say aloud. Naturally, you cannot.

“Now, l still need to take your blood pressure and your temperature to make sure nothing’s wrong, and after, we should be ready to talk,” Yosuke says with a gentle tone. His voice, despite questionable words coming from it, is suave and glides into your ears smoothly. You want to like this man, but something feels wrong about him.

Suddenly, you feel a cold device wrap around your left upper arm, which you assume to be for checking your blood pressure. As predicted, Yosuke measures precisely that, pumping air into the device with an extension and inflating it until you feel a slight pain in your arm. To both of your surprise, your arm twitches in response.

“My, it seems you’re starting to develop feeling at last!” the kind but eerie doctor laughs. He reads the machine around your arm and takes another note of the number on his chart before unwrapping the device and putting it aside. Afterward, he takes a bulky contraption with a pointed tip and leans forward, gently speaking into your ear,

“This may feel strange, but please bear it.”

The device is glided into your ear, reaching deeper than you expected it to. After just a moment, Yosuke removes the thing from your head and makes note of the number it displays. Once he has finished his checkup of you and marking his chart, he wheels his stool to put his stethoscope and other tools back in the cabinet he retrieved them from.

“It seems you’re doing excellent and recovering just as we had hoped,” he explains, wheeling back toward your side. “Which is good. We’d like to get started as soon as your body is ready.”

You try again to speak, but find that you are still unable to. Yosuke sees your lips trembling with hundreds of questions, and he smiles.

“Please don’t be afraid,” he requests of you, placing his hand on your shoulder once more. “You’ve been brought here for a special reason. We’ve intentionally drugged you, and there’s a reason you no longer remember anything beyond what you’re seeing now. This drug is specially made by us, and it inhibits the ability to recall memory. Anything you knew from before, save perhaps for a few important things, is now inaccessible. All that matters is now.”

Your eyes widen.

“Well, I suppose asking you not to be scared is a bit easier said than done when I hit you with something so serious,” he laughs in response. “But, my dear, we’ve rescued you from your past life and are going to make this your new home. You’ll be clothed, fed, cared for. All you have to do is be…ours.”

Your hands begin to tremble as you realize what he meant by “visits” before.

“I’m not allowed to say much about who you were, but I can tell you that you weren’t wanted in your past life,” Yosuke continues to explain, a hint of sympathy in his voice. “We’re an organization that specializes in fostering unwanted people like you. And in return for sheltering you, we use your body for entertainment.”

Your chest rises suddenly as you give a sharp breath and exhale, almost gasping, in response. You can’t bring yourself to scream or fight, but your heart begins to beat faster as you are bluntly told that you have been kidnapped and are being enslaved.

“There’s obviously a chance of sterility, of course,” Yosuke continues, unphased by your evident discomfort and fear. “If that's what you're worried about. It’s very common with the drugs we use, so there is a chance nothing will happen to you."

He tilts his head after finally acknowledging your inner struggle and fearful gaze.

“Oh, I see I’ve upset you, my dear,” he frowns. “I do apologize. It’s not easy news to break to our captives. But look at it this way—you get to experience pleasure for the rest of your life. You’ll be kept healthy, safe, beautiful. In exchange, we get to play with you endlessly. Isn’t that better than being out in the cold?”

You feel more movement slowly returning in your arms, and are now able to wiggle your wrists, which you do excessively in protest. So many questions fill your head at once, buzzing about incessantly as you try to piece this entire thing together. Is this some kind of sex cult? Why are these people using sheltered young men and women as sex slaves? What have you gotten into? And more importantly…how?

“Oh, my dear,” Yosuke shakes his head as he watches you struggle relentlessly.

“I know you’re afraid, but what’s done is done. We have no intentions of letting you go. You belong to us now.”

Chapter 2: Visit Zero - Yosuke

Yosuke leans in and slowly caresses your cheek with his warm hand. You want to turn away, but you still can’t move your head just yet.

“As I’ve said, I will be the one taking care of you and arranging your visits,” Yosuke goes on. “I’ll make sure you’re seen by the most handsome and experienced of men here, unless of course you prefer women. But know that I take good care of guests I’m in charge of.”

Yosuke begins to pet your head as he sympathetically watches you flail your now fully functional arms desperately in an attempt to break free of your restraints. He smiles gently at you.

“My dear, please don’t struggle. It’s of no use now,” he coos in a sweet and loving tone in an attempt to calm you down. “You have to accept that you belong to us now. We will take great care of you, but you have to comply. If you don’t, this will become much harder for you.”

He puts another hand over one of your arms, pressing down to try to stop you from struggling so much.

“You’ll get to meet some of our other guests as well and socialize with them if you like,” he promises, as though trying to persuade you to agree with his disgusting plans for you. “So long as you stay within our walls and be a good girl, we will accommodate all of your needs.”

Finally, you are able to move your legs, but unfortunately are reminded that they’re bound as well. You start to gasp, feeling your body becoming more and more aware. You struggle to move your head again, now finding that you can finally do so, just not as much as you’d like.

“Ah, you’re almost fully ready,” Yosuke remarks positively. “Good. I’ll be able to have someone in here tomorrow for a visit. I’m sure you’ll like the men who'll see you. You seem like the kind of girl who would.”

“I don’t want this!” You finally cry out, feeling the heaviness from before completely lifted from your body now. “Please, let go of me!”

“We can’t, my darling,” Yosuke shakes his head and moves his hand from your cheek to your chin, grabbing it firmly to force you to look at him. His eyes glower, but his lips form a smile. “You’re ours now. We made very sure of that. Even if you could return to your other life, you wouldn’t remember it at all. From what I’ve read about you, I don’t think you’d want to anyway.”

Gently, Yosuke leans in to give you a soft kiss, hoping that it will soothe you. Instead, you attempt to recoil from his touch, but are unable to as his strong fingers hold tight onto your chin.

“Now, I can help you have the most pleasurable experience if only you tell me what you want,” he purrs, moving his other hand over your crotch and gliding his finger up and down your vulva through your panties, slowing his pace when he reaches your clit. “If you don’t, I’ll just have to try different things until I find out what makes you tick. I can start soft, of course.”

“S-stop!” you quiver, trying to kick him or shake him away. However, Yosuke retains his position and stares into your eyes, unwavering. “I don’t like anything, get away!”

“We wouldn’t have taken you if you didn’t,” your captor assures you. “We’re usually quite good at selecting our guests. In my experience, most girls like you prefer softer or vanilla things. Inexperienced, pure. Am I correct?”

“Get AWAY!”

Yosuke smiles gently and releases his hold on you, standing back up and loosening his tie.

“Well, I had better find out before I select someone for you,” he states simply, removing his tie and then his lab coat. “If you really want to suffer so much, I can bring you just anyone on hand. We have quite a lot of people with some strange and, I think, unattractive fetishes. I wouldn’t want to subject you to that because I do care about you. Do you understand? You are lucky to have me as your doctor.”

You grimace.

“I suppose I should also inform you that all of your rapes, which they will be if you refuse to submit to us, will occur in this and other nearby rooms from now on. These will be your personal examination rooms, and your bedroom is just next door in 10A. But, you will eat and do other activities in another area of our facility close by.”

Yosuke removes his glasses, revealing his bare olive eyes which almost glow in the bright light radiating from the white walls. He folds his frames and places them on a nearby counter behind you, which you can’t properly see.

“We have many fun things stocked in the cabinets of all our rooms, and the beds can accommodate up to three people, though we have larger ones available in other rooms for orgies or gangbangs.”

“Why are you doing all of this?!” You cry out, still struggling to loosen your straps to no avail. “What’s the point of all of this?”

“We operate as a medical facility as a cover, of course,” Yosuke explains as he unbuttons his long-sleeve shirt. “A producer of biomedical and pharmaceutical supplies. We cut costs and can do business like we’re supposed to on paper. This lets us seem honest, but gets us the funding we need to do what we actually set out to.”

“Kidnapping and raping young men and women?” You shoot at him in anger. “What, do you have children here too?”

“Of course not,” is the only response you receive. “Not that I know of. I can’t say we’re an…ethical operation, but I’m under the impression that even we have limitations. I personally don’t ask questions, it's better for everyone that way.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Plenty.” Yosuke opens his shirt to expose his bare and clean-shaven chest, but does not remove it. Instead, he rolls up his sleeves and begins to unbutton his pants. It’s evident he just wants to give you something pleasing to look at while he no doubt rapes you himself, but you refuse to let yourself fall for it.

“You’ll find many of us ready to have you, my dear,” he adds, taking off his shoes one by one. “But, of course, I have to make sure I know what you can handle. Unless you’d like to tell me yourself and avoid my testing you out.”

“I wouldn’t know that!” you bark back. “I don’t want any of this, why would I tell you anything?!”

“It would make things so much easier, darling,” is the man’s only response. Calmly, he walks toward you. You half expect him to mount you on the bed, but instead he moves toward your head and grabs your hair, forcing you to face his crotch. You blush wildly and try to fight his grasp, but he is stronger than you, especially with your body still reeling from the drugs.

“I’ll give you one warning now,” Yosuke gravely speaks up, his voice booming from above you. “Do anything to hurt us when we play with you, do anything to try and escape, and you will be discarded from our shelter and put to death. Do you understand?”

He reaches down and pulls down his boxers to expose his already-risen cock now wet with precum, a rather large and prominent thing that you’re not sure can even fit in your mouth, where you assume he’s going to try to shove it.

“You’re horrible,” you scowl. In response, Yosuke simply smiles gently and coos,

“Open your mouth, my pet.”

You refuse, pressing your lips shut as the head of Yosuke’s dick rubs against them playfully, as if to say “you can’t stop me for long”.

“Open your mouth, darling,” he commands again, tightening his grip on your head and pulling your hair hard enough for it to start hurting your scalp. You almost want to yelp in pain, but refuse to open your mouth like he wants.

“You haven’t had nourishment in quite some time. You need to be fed, don’t you?”

You shut your eyes and remain resistant to the doctor’s incessant advances, to which he frowns. He lets go of his cock for just a moment and forces his fingers between your lips, attempting to pry your jaw open. You groan and moan in protest as he does so, refusing to let him win. In annoyance, Yosuke slams his fist onto your stomach, just hard enough to surprise you but not hard enough to actually do damage. You open your mouth to gasp, which your assailant takes full advantage of. In an instant, he shoves his hard cock into your mouth and down your throat. You try to bite him, but he shakes your head using your hair and reminds you,

“Bite down and you will die. Take me like a good girl and swallow that pride of yours, my dear.”

You give out a throated cry, but obey and relax your jaw, letting Yosuke force your head forward and backward with his grip. His cock tastes slightly bitter and salty and is warm to the touch against your tongue and the roof of your mouth. It’s smooth as it goes down your throat, yet you want to gag with each throbbing thrust. You begin to struggle again, trying to free yourself from the straps binding you to the bed, but are unable to. Each squeak and moan reverberates through your muffled mouth and sends a shiver down Yosuke’s thick member. He grins as he forces you to deepthroat him, gently chuckling at your reaction.

“Is it good, darling?” He questions innocently. “Do you like the taste of my cock?”

He continues to force your head to thrust forward and backward, your mouth gliding over his shaft repeatedly. He grunts and moans with pleasure as he feels the warmth of your tongue and cheeks pressing against his cock, and you can feel it beginning to throb after a while of him forcing it in and out of your orifice. Yosuke’s pace soon begins to quicken, and he pants heavily for a while before he finally comes inside your mouth, releasing a thick, hot, white stream of semen all over your tongue, teeth, and throat. As he comes, he lets out a loud and pleasured grunt, thrusting hard into your throat to ensure that his cum goes as deep inside your body as possible. When he is done, he chuckles and pulls out, releasing his grasp from your scalp and moving it tightly over your mouth to prevent you from spitting his juices out.

“Swallow it all, my pet,” he coos. “You need some nourishment.”

Hesitantly, you follow his instructions, feeling the rest of the hot, thick, liquid sliding down your esophagus. The unfamiliar, raw taste of it makes you shiver, and you almost want to puke. When Yosuke finally removes his hand from your mouth, you begin to cough, your throat feeling scratchy and left raw after being violated. You can’t even bring yourself to speak out anymore, much to Yosuke’s delight.

“For someone who doesn’t seem to be familiar with being deepthroated, you did well,” he compliments with enthusiasm, reaching out to touch your cheek only to be met with you recoiling in response.

“I’ll be sure to make a note of it,” he goes on, releasing a lever on the side of the bed which causes the angled portion to slam down and flatten, leaving you completely straight on it. “But, we’re not done yet, are we, my dear?”

You look away from him in disgust and embarrassment, to which he responds with a look of interest. Clearly your reactions titillate him, but you can’t bring yourself to pretend to enjoy your assault just to dampen his mood.

“Now, I have to see how much you can take, and if you like to be dominated,” Yosuke continues, moving from the side of your bed to the foot of it. “But perhaps I ought to do this first.”

You aren’t sure what he intends to do, but you instinctively shut your knees closed, refusing your perverted captor once more. Without skipping a beat, the vile doctor places his hand between your knees to stop you from completely clamping them shut. He then moves in with his other hand, worming his way between your knees to pull them apart by force. He leans in playfully, hunching over the edge of the bed to begin licking your underwear, feeling your clit through your panties.

“My my,” he gently laughs. “You’ve already gotten wet. Just from being throatfucked? How cute.”

You blush and scowl, trying to close your legs again, but Yosuke stops you. He immediately strikes you again with his mouth, sucking on your clit through your underwear and tonguing the outline of your labia. You can feel the imprint of his tongue pressing through the underwear and on the opening of your vagina, and his nose rubs circles around your clit simultaneously, making you whimper and shiver. You can’t remember if you were always this sensitive because the drugs obliterated your ability to associate with or recall previous memories, but you scorn yourself for being so reactive to his advances now.

“You smell and taste so lovely,” your assailant compliments warmly and with an eager, breathy groan. He keeps your legs open with both his hands on each thigh. “And I’m quite hungry, my pet.”

With one hand, he pulls aside your underwear and begins to tongue relentlessly at your clit, causing you to shake unexpectedly. The sensation of pleasure is so strange to you, but you try to resist it as best you can.

“Stop, please!” you cry, trying to reach over to stop Yosuke, but feeling the straps on your wrists holding you back like an accomplice to the assault, restraining you as its friend has at you. Yosuke ignores your pleas and continues to tongue you, inserting his fingers into your vagina while sucking and licking your clit incessantly without taking a break. He starts to rapidly finger you while he works his mouth on you, refusing to stop until you eventually begin thrusting involuntarily in response to his stimulation. You begin to clench your fists as you thrust, trying to stop yourself but failing to. A loud moan escapes your lips as Yosuke continues his assault, and soon, you find yourself at your climax.

“I…” You pant. “…No!”

Still tonguing you, Yosuke lets out a laugh and speeds up his fingering pace. Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you come into his face, loudly groaning and gasping and thrusting in response to your pleasure. Within moments, the feeling fades, and Yosuke pulls back his finger and his face from your now sopping wet pussy. He gives his lips a quick lick and smiles devilishly at you.

“You truly are amazing,” he gleefully compliments, giving his fingers a lick as well. “A pretty girl who tastes and feels as good as you is sure to do well here. Now…”

As you are still gasping and recovering from your orgasm, Yosuke mounts you on the bed, kneeling over you and pressing his palms on either side of your shoulders. He leans in close enough for you to feel his body heat again, making you blush wildly. You look away from him and shut your eyes, but he refuses to let you hide away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him again.

“One more test for today, my pet,” he coos, leaning in to suck on and lick your ears. The unexpected feeling of his tongue sends a shiver down your body, and you feel a fire burning in your chest. Slowly, Yosuke starts to kiss your ears and neck, forcing your chin in place so that you don’t squirm away from him. As he plays with your ears, he thrusts his cock against your slit rhythmically, bouncing up and down and letting his head flick against your clit. The sensation drives you wild, and you begin to buck against him with each thrust, much to his pleasure. He grins and chuckles in your ear, playfully giving your earlobe a nip.

Yosuke then moves one of his hands down to the top of your dress and pulls it down, exposing your left breast. With eagerness, he takes it in his hand, cupping his fingers around it and teasing your nipple gently with his smooth and warm fingertip.

“N…No!” You cry out, still trying to resist him despite your body bucking wildly and acting out of your control. “Please, you’ve done enough, just leave me alone! I don’t want this!”

“Then why are you grinding against me so eagerly?” Yosuke grins, blowing hot breath into your ear as he questions your bodily contradiction. “It seems to me you want to be raped. Impregnated, even.”

“I…I might not get pregnant!” you try to remind him, though the words were spoken more so to comfort yourself. However, Yosuke moves his hand from your breast to over your womb and chuckles, giving it a gentle rub.

“We’ll see.”

He stops thrusting his cock over your slit and instead uses his hand to spread your lips open. Straddling you firmly, Yosuke gently inserts the tip of his cock inside of you, laughing as he does so.

“Oh my dear, you’re even more wet now!” He gleefully exclaims. He releases his hand from your crotch and moves it back to your breast, letting his body do the rest of the pushing. He grunts as he moves inside you, and you whimper and cry in response to his intrusion. You feel that he is too big for you, yet you’ve become so horny that you almost don’t care. You still try to protest, but a part of you now wants to feel Yosuke’s cock inside you. The more you smell his cologne, feel his body heat, envision him thrusting into you, the more you want to let it happen.

“You’re…so…tight!” Yosuke grunts as he pushes more and more into you. “It feels so good!”

Finally, he pushes fully into you, then gives a hearty laugh as he begins to thrust in and out of your body. His pace begins slowly, and after a few introductory thrusts you find yourself able to accommodate a man of his size. Since he had bothered to do at least some foreplay to get you to this point, you are able to take him without too much of an issue.

As Yosuke thrusts his cock in and out of your pussy, you feel both disgusted by the loud slapping noises, and turned on by the sensation of his crotch rubbing up against your clit with each thrust. You can feel the warmth of his dick so deeply inside you, and his caressing and squeezing of your breast leaves you dizzy. Each thrust brings you into a euphoric state, and you find yourself unable to resist anymore. Yosuke notices this and laughs.

“You’re mine now, aren’t you my dear?” He leans in and licks your ear again. “You’re finally understanding your position now, right? You’ll be our little fuckdoll forever.”

You no longer have the energy to respond to him, panting heavily with each thrust and blushing hard. You feel a warmth all over your body as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. Each pounding of your pussy is met with a loud wet slapping noise and the pleasured moans and grunts of your assailant. His breathy groans are rhythmic, and his musky scent fills your nose.

Yosuke pounds and pounds and pounds into you, eventually holding your legs open with each hand and thrusting faster and faster. You feel yourself becoming dizzier and dizzier, unable to move and feeling only unwanted euphoric pleasure as Yosuke rapes you. You can’t bring yourself to think anymore, and at some point, Yosuke can’t bring himself to tease you either, focused heavily on pumping into you. The both of you become sweaty, practically dripping sweat and other juices all over the bed.

Soon, Yosuke calls out to you, grunting between thrusts.

“I’m going to come. I’m going to fill you up with my semen and you can’t stop me! I’m going to get you pregnant! Come with me, my pet!”

He moans hard with each thrust thereafter, and you find yourself ready to come as well. A part of you still wants to fight it, but you know that you can’t anymore. Yosuke thrusts in and out, in and out repeatedly, slamming against your clit and your labia hard and quickly rubbing it with each quick contact of skin to drive you mad. Within a few more moments of thrusting, he cries out,

“I’m coming!”

Your body is at its limit as well, and you throw your head back and cry out with bliss. Yosuke loudly grunts in pleasure, pumping more of his thick, hot, semen into you. He continues to pound into your pussy as he comes inside you, grunting with each slow but hard thrust. He grabs your wrists and pumps repeatedly, slowly, and gently until he has finished orgasming. Your hips start to buck slower and slower until you no longer have the strength to, and soon, you find yourself feeling as loopy as you did when you first woke up in Yosuke’s arms. Your face is now red and flushed, and your limbs feel weak and hot.

Yosuke remains inside you, hunched over your body and panting heavily. His hair is now damp with sweat and glued to the sides of his head, his shirt is now clinging to his body, and parts of his pale skin are visibly bleeding through the blue color of the fabric.

“I see now that you like to be raped,” Yosuke comments between breaths. “Even in such a vanilla way. I’ll be sure to incorporate new, pleasurable activities in your following visits.”

“F…from who…?” You struggle to coherently ask. Yosuke smirks at you.

“That’s not for you to worry about,” he retorts. “But I rather enjoyed our time today. I’ll be fucking you repeatedly from now on, as your doctor.”

He tightens his grip on your wrists, just below the straps.

“You’re mine. I was your first, so never forget that.”

You have no more energy to respond, and so Yosuke simply slides himself out of you and gets off the bed. He walks over to the cabinet and pulls out some towels to clean himself, wiping his face and then his cock of all the juices from the both of you.

“There are showers across the hall where you can get cleaned up, and we have people who will come and clean the bed and any used equipment after every visit,” he explains, still somewhat breathily as he is trying to fully recover from his heavy exercise. “It might take some time for you to get used to living here, but now that you know what’s in store for you, I hope you’ll cooperate more with us.”

He then pulls up his underwear and zips up his pants.

“But I suppose that your resisting makes it much more fun.”

When you don’t respond, Yosuke turns toward you curiously.

“My dear?” the doctor reaches out a hand to your forehead and sees that you are conscious, but unresponsive. He smiles at you warmly and gleefully, realizing that he’s overpowered you so successfully that you can’t even think or respond anymore.

“I think you’ll find that you like it here.”

Chapter 3: Rest One - Numbers

Water drips down your naked body, washing away your sweat and leaving you clean of your encounter with Yosuke. You’re hunching over the drain of a shower, squatting over a patch of white tiles while watching an unknown bug crawling around desperately on the floor. It looks to be some kind of small beetle, one flipped over and flailing its arms relentlessly in an attempt to turn itself over. You poke at it to try helping the poor thing, and it instantly crawls away into the drain, escaping its fate. You almost wish you could do the same.

With your bug companion now gone, you sit on the floor of the shower and curl up against a corner, letting the water splash all around your body while you stare emptily at the white tiles of the area around you. You aren’t sure what to make of everything that’s just happened, yet you know you can’t afford to fight against it. You wonder whether or not it’s worth it to try, or if you should just succumb to everything the way Yosuke advised. Perhaps doing so would rob some of your future visitors of their pleasure. If they are anything like Yosuke, you wager they’ll like someone with innocence, inexperience, and hesitance. You can’t understand why it’s so interesting to them, but figure the sexual interests of perverts don’t merit any logic anyway.

A part of you wants to stay in your warm shower, not really ready to face Yosuke again after what he did to you. You want to bathe yourself properly, in fact the shower is equipped with clear bottles of shampoos and body washes laced with various scents for “guests” to choose from. They’re not marked with any fonts or logos other than some vague scent name etched onto them in cursive. Most of the creamier soaps seem to have pastel colors, and gel substances have more saturated colors. You want to clean off, but also know that these soaps are likely there to make captives smell good and more attractive to workers. You refuse to fall for this obvious trap and resort to using a water cleanse exclusively.

As you ponder on what has just occurred, you persist in scorning yourself for succumbing to pleasure, but admit it felt good to be overpowered by someone like Yosuke. However, you also understand that you are somewhat biased toward him because he is handsome and because he is playing up his caretaking role, something he no doubt does for all captives he is…or perhaps even was…responsible for. The way he warned you earlier of the consequences of refusal or escape makes you think that he has some experience at whatever ungodly place this is, and you shudder to think of him taking advantage of someone else before you and watching expressionlessly as they are killed for trying to escape.

He promised you equally satisfying men for the future, but you can only imagine what kinds of other men might have you that aren’t as attractive or even well endowed. When Yosuke said you were lucky to have him as your doctor, perhaps he was right. Yosuke was somehow special, but thinking of this makes you want to puke. You don’t want to give the man the satisfaction of being affectionate or needy toward him. You don’t want to want him.

Suddenly, you hear a knocking noise from the door of your shower, and you turn to see Yosuke’s frame from behind the frosted glass. Your heart jumps in fear, but he does not try to enter the shower. Instead, he reminds you,

“You’ve been in there for quite some time, my dear. I suggest you hurry up if you want to meet your new neighbors.”

You don’t want to see anyone at all right now, not even if they’re friendly and a captive as you are. You just want to sit here and pretend nothing that is happening now is real, even if you know it is.

“Do you want me to come in there and clean you myself?”

You grimace. He knows you don’t, but he’s got you in his hands no matter what. In frustration, you comply with him and rise from the safety of your shower corner. With a defeated hand, you turn off the water and stand there.

“I want my towel,” you tell your doctor bluntly, wanting to at least have some kind of control, even if it’s something minuscule as asking for a towel. Without a word, a white towel is flung over the shower door and limply hangs over it. You reach up to grab it and quickly dry off your body. Once you’re finally cleaned up, you then wrap the soft-fibered thing around your frame, clinging it to your chest to keep it closed.

“Okay. I’m coming out.”

Yosuke steps aside as you slowly push open the door, your hair still dripping slightly with excess water. Yosuke reaches out to try to touch your bare shoulder, but you step away.

“Please, don’t touch me right now,” you sharply tell him, almost begging. “I need time.”

Your doctor does not seem offended, but rather understanding of your hesitancy, though you don’t find yourself giving him any praises for it when he didn’t listen to your protests before. Instead, Yosuke guides his hand forward, prompting you to walk toward the shower entrance where your clothes were discarded earlier. There, you find a new thin dress folded neatly along the grey metal bench next to the door to the hallway. Your previous one had been a white color, like the walls of your room, but this time you were given a gown with nice rose pink color. If not for the awful situation you were in, you might find the color pleasing and uplifting.

“I don’t want to dress in front of you, so please turn around,” you ask the man standing closely behind you. “I won’t run away.”

“Of course,” Yosuke responds with a nod, evidently knowing and cheeky since he quite literally threatened you with death if you tried to make any moves. You wonder whether the facility has guards, or if the employees all carry weapons. You didn’t see Yosuke with any arms as he undressed earlier, so you aren’t sure. But, you don’t wish to risk anything and decide to play along, even though you’ll hate every second of it.

Quietly, you drop your towel and pick up the folded gown. It feels soft in your fingers, almost like liquid cloth. It’s made of some kind of thin fabric, but one that isn’t entirely see through. Slowly, you pull the thing over your head and tug at the sides to wrap your body in its embrace. Another pair of white underwear sits where the gown had been folded, having been placed under it. You continue to remain in silence as you grab onto them, pulling your legs through the holes and adjusting the waistband. After you’ve finished, you smooth down the hanging hem of your gown and tell Yosuke that you’re done. The both of you walk out of the shower, and Yosuke then takes you down the right path. You pass countless metal doors with numbers and letters above each one. You recall your room, 10B, and watch as the letters jump from B to D before the next room number pops up. It’s in descending order, so you wonder just how far up the numbers actually go in the opposite direction.

“Why are the rooms titled so strangely?” You ask your doctor. Even though you don't want to be friendly to him, you still have far too many questions to remain in silence. And if you have to be stuck with him forever, you know you’ll have to talk to him more and more eventually. That precise statement feels, in fact, like something he would remind you of should you choose to be stubborn with him.

“We have different room types for each guest,” Yosuke bluntly responds to your question. “As I said, we have many accommodations for our various employees’ interests. Different bed sizes, different equipment. The basic rooms have most essentials, but they’re too small for certain activities. But I suppose depending on your visitors’ interests, you may not ever end up in every room.”

“That’s disgusting.” you make no attempt to hide your feelings, but this appears to amuse Yosuke. He seems to like it when you have an attitude, but you feel like being submissive to him will satisfy him just as equally. You know you won’t be able to win with him regardless.

The both of you turn a corner at room 1D and reach a long hallway that leads to a dead-end double-doored room. There is one lone accessible room on the left as you enter this hallway, but the rest of the stretching corridor is blocked by a thick white security gate with an automated mechanism that looks as though it controls the metal gate, but you see no apparent key or keypad or anything around to be used to do so. From behind the gate, you can see rows of double doors on either side of the hall, and above each are titles, not numbers: CAFETERIA, REC ROOM, THEATER, MUSIC ROOM, LIBRARY. There are more, but these are the only ones you can see so far. Only one area in the hallway has a single Dutch door, the kind with two separate sections that can be opened and closed freely, the kind you think you may have seen in a doctor’s office. You can’t remember, but you know what it is. Above the door is the title RECORDS.

Yosuke stops by the entrance of the accessible room by the door which has its top half open, revealing a countertop on the bottom half. He pauses for just a moment to drop the clipboard with his chart of your vitals from earlier, with other papers attached on top that you can’t make out the contents of from behind him. From behind the ajar upper portion of the door, you can see an office filled with cabinets and bookshelves, but no windows or decorations of which to speak of. The walls and floor are both white and brilliantly lit, like the room you were in earlier. On each shelf are countless books and binders, though one shelf has an unplugged portable TV with a frayed wire. Nobody seems to be in the office, but you soon hear a polite and gentle feminine cough from around the corner of one cabinet to your right, leading you to suggest that the room is much bigger and has someone at a desk or something of the sort. You want to assume it’s a woman, but you have known some men to sound rather effeminate—or at least you think you have.

Yosuke says nothing to this person, but knocks on the door frame to alert them to his dropoff. Without waiting, he walks off, motioning for you to follow him toward the large security gate. He does nothing but stand there, yet the gate opens. You suppose, then, that whoever it is in the office is able to open it from where they are.

You wonder if there are any cameras watching you, but you can’t seem to see any. Perhaps this place doesn’t have them for security purposes. The last thing these people would want is some bored person hacking into a CCTV to see a secret facility where doctors hold people hostage and violate them as supposed payment for shelter from a life their captives don’t even know whether they want. Or, perhaps the facility is high-security and high-tech, with it’s strange sci-fi room doors and it’s clean atmosphere. Everything seems to be in place, so maybe these people have some kind of fancy undetectable cameras. Either way, this operation is tight. They are still a funded business, they get away with their underground sexual antics, and they can afford to have their rooms cleaned and organized regularly by a staff you think needs to ask more questions about their job. Everything is clean, orderly, secure. These people, whoever they are, have evidently been running this operation for a long while. That thought disgusts you even more.

“Come in, pet,” Yosuke snaps you out of your thoughts, and you see that he’s been standing on the other side of the gate waiting for you to follow. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I’m not,” you shoot him a glare. Promptly, you follow. As soon as you pass the gate, it slams shut from behind you, sending a rush of wind down your spine and tussling the hem of your rose gown. Your doctor leads you toward the end of the hall to the REC ROOM door. The wide double doors separate as they sense someone on the outside and from behind them is revealed a white room decorated with random furniture and machines.

Fancy, plush, cream-colored couches are positioned against the furthest wall. One of them closest to the left of the room has people who look about your age sitting on it. Across from this couch, there's a large television where some of the young men and women are currently looking, their eyes glued to whatever they’re seeing. You half-expected a bunch of dirtied, wide-eyed and fearful children, but they are all clean, healthy, and attractive young people wearing loose and colorful gowns. All of the girls are dressed in gowns like you, with the only distinction between gowns being their color. Meanwhile, the boys are dressed in shirts and pants made from the same kind of material as the gowns. You’d honestly give anything to wear pants right now.

There are a few game tables on the opposite side of the room, but nobody is playing them. A television is on the wall behind these machines with a nature scene being projected onto it, likely to mimic the feel of looking outside to compensate for the reality of being captive in a windowless building. There is one boy reading a book off in the rightmost corner of the room, and a girl laying motionless on a couch by herself. Otherwise, most of the people in the room are crowded around the TV. Some are not necessarily watching what's on it, but seem to want to feel as though they belong by being present where everyone else is. You can’t quite blame them—you almost want to leap for joy at seeing someone other than Yosuke, someone else who has likely endured what you have, and no doubt will continue to.

From behind you, Yosuke gives you a bit of a pat on the back as if to encourage you to move forward.

“You’ll be spending your time in these areas when we’re not playing with you,” he explains. “While you’re here, I’ll be off doing my work upstairs.”

Upstairs?

“When it’s time for a meal, you will be called to the cafeteria. When it’s time for bed, everyone will be collected and taken to their rooms by their doctors. Do you understand?”

You say nothing, but Yosuke does not take offense. He knows you know, and he knows you don’t want to participate. He gives your head a quick pat, frustrating you even more, but then promptly leaves and lets the rec room doors shut behind you. You don't move at first, staying still while you hear the metal gate in the hallway opening and shutting with a loud grind and CLANG. Silence follows afterwards, and you suddenly feel a bit more at peace with your assailant gone, separated from you. You look up at the people by the couch in front of the TV, but they don’t seem to be acknowledging you. You count about seven of them, not including the two bodies secluded in the other areas of the room.

The couch is full of four girls, but one boy is sitting casually on its large armrest, cross-legged. The other two on the floor are a boy and a girl who look like fraternal twins, and they’re laying in front of the TV, looking up at it with interest and holding their heads in their hands with their elbows on the ground. Both of them are wearing red clothes on their thin bodies, and both have similar physical features such as hazel eyes, light freckles, and soft red hair. The boy on the armrest is dressed in royal blue, and he has pale, almost white skin with bright blue, practically aqua eyes and dark hair that looks black, but is likely a very dark brown. Two girls on the leftmost side of the couch are wearing peach colored gowns. One has dark brown skin, big, beautiful brown eyes, and curly dark hair, while the other has light, warm, and somewhat tan skin, dark brown eyes, and flat, short hair. They both seem less enthusiastic about the TV, and more interested in one another. They’re whispering in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, laughing over private jokes.

The two other girls on the couch are dressed in baby blue and violet colored gowns. The baby blue girl is a rather busty blonde young woman sitting in the middle of everyone, donning a high ponytail, light freckles, and baby blue eyes. She has her arms crossed, but is still watching the TV with an indifferent face, opposite to that of the enthusiastic twins in front of her feet. The violet girl next to her on the rightmost side of the couch and near the royal blue boy isn’t particularly invested in the TV nor the girls or twins near her. Instead, she keeps talking to the boy beside her about something you can’t quite hear. This girl has dark wavy hair and dark eyes framed by round, thin glasses. Her skin, which is accentuated by the color of her gown, is creamy and a lighter brown color than one of the peach girls on the leftmost side of the couch.

You look over at the isolated boy and girl on the other side of the room and notice they haven’t bothered to look at you either. The girl is dressed in a pale lavender gown, and she has light skin and blonde hair almost like the baby blue girl, though she wears it down and it isn't quite as light a shade. You can’t quite make out the girl’s face since she has one arm over her eyes, but you can see her chest rise and fall rhythmically with each breath. Meanwhile, the boy in the corner with his book is dressed in grey and has dark brown hair and light green eyes. Like the violet girl, he has glasses, and is the only other person with them. You wince a bit upon seeing him since something about his features reminds you of Yosuke. You remember the man’s olive green eyes staring deeply into you as he pumped into your body, but you grip your hand and pinch it to try to stop yourself from reliving everything.

You find yourself unsure of what to do or where to go, so you figure maybe you could try to get to know the group near the TV, not wanting to disturb the other two. You walk over to them and sit beside the twins. On the TV before you, there is some kind of a romantic film being played portraying a man and a woman falling deeply in love with one another. You aren’t sure what’s happening, but it seems to be at its climax, with the couple sharing a loving kiss on screen while sappy music plays in the background. You don’t recognize the film, but you know that it is one.

“Oh hey, you must be new!” The male twin turns his head toward you as you sit next to him and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nice…to meet you too?” You sheepishly respond, confused by how cheery he seems to be. In fact, everyone is acting casually, and you don’t understand why given the place they're in. “I’m—”

You suddenly realize you don’t know your own name.

“…Confused.”

“It happens all the time,” the baby blue girl speaks from behind you. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t know if I will,” you respond, turning slightly to see her. “Um…why is everyone being so casual about this? What exactly is going on?”

“It’s better not to ask questions here,” the blonde responds with bluntness. “They don’t usually give us a lot of answers about big stuff.”

“Tell me about it,” you exhale, frustrated. “…Who are all of you?”

“We don’t know our names either,” The twin boy answers, supposing that’s what you’re mulling over. “They just call us by our numbers if they need to, but they’ll sometimes use random names when they play around with us, if they want.”

“You mean…”

“Yeah...”

“I’ve been called a lot of names by several of the people here,” the blue girl chimes in. “Jessica, Marion, Linda, Chiyoko, Sui, Annabelle. Any one of them could have been my real name and I’d never know.”

You grimace. These people holding you hostage make you sicker and sicker the more you find out about them.

“So…you’re not going to ask anything about who I am, are you?” you question. This makes both the male twin and the baby blue girl laugh.

“You don’t even know who you are,” the blonde girl points out with a grin. “We don’t usually find ourselves caring too hard around here about things that don’t technically exist. We know you’re here, but we know you can’t tell us anything new that we don’t already know, so we don’t ask or act like we care. Nobody here knows who they were, only who they are now.”

“Shut up, Four!” The violet girl speaks up, snapping. “I’m trying to tell Cyrus something.”

“Shut up yourself, Seven. I’m trying to talk to the new girl.”

Seven scowls at Four.

“Cyrus?” You gaze in confusion at the boy on the couch's armrest, the only one you had noticed Seven even trying to talk to. “I thought you said you don’t have names?”

“We obviously do,” Seven finally acknowledges you, chiding you for what she thinks is stupidity when you really just don’t understand anything yet. “We all had names before. We just use numbers now.”

“Or colors, if we feel like it,” The male twin chimes in. “Me and my sis stick to our numbers since it’s easier. But some of us like colors better, since it makes it feel more…I dunno, human?”

Cyrus turns his head toward you with a bit of a calm smile, his bright blue eyes, almost aqua, staring into you. He makes you somewhat uncomfortable staring the same way Yosuke had, but you know he isn’t doing it on purpose and is genuinely trying to be inviting. Coupled with his gaze, Cyrus’ pale skin is almost inhuman, makes him look practically like a ghost. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen anyone like him, but he’s almost ethereal.

“I caught my name on a file once,” the boy answers you. “I’ve been here for a long time and they do checkups on me regularly. My doctor dropped their notes once on accident, and I saw the name on a file with a photo of me, so I think that’s my name. But, the doctors call me One.”

“One?”

The boy nods.

“I’m not the first person to be brought here, but I’ve been here the longest out of the rest of us in this sector.”

“There’s more people here than us?” You question. Again, Cyrus nods.

“I can’t confirm it, but I’ve heard that they have older and younger groups of people in different areas of the facility. We only have a few hallways to ourselves, but this place seems much bigger than just a few hallways, so I can only assume it’s true.”

“Unsurprisingly, they’re not satisfied with just ten of us,” Four rolls her eyes. “But I’d imagine there’s not a whole lot more groups than just us, since it’s probably super expensive to take care of a bunch of people at once.”

“Everyone has a number, maybe a color, and everyone has to deal with whatever the doctors and other workers here choose to do to us,” the male twin solemnly speaks, almost bitterly. But, he returns to his casual state and continues to smile. “I’m Two, by the way. My sister here is Three.”

“I don’t remember who I was, but I know for a fact that I’m bad with numbers,” you sigh. “This might take a while for me to get used to.”

“It happens,” Three finally speaks up, causing you to whip your head toward her in surprise. Her voice is far softer and lighter than you expected, almost like that of an actual child. As you look at her, you also catch a glimpse of the movie. It’s finally wrapping up, and the couple are now having their wedding and smiling brightly. This makes the enamored Three smile, her eyes sparkling with wonder. You almost want to find it endearing, but you remember that she’s likely been taken advantage of like everyone else here has. You all have that much in common. As rough a bunch as some of them seem to be, you’re almost happy that you have people to talk and relate to.

“So, what’s your number new girl?” Cyrus questions.

“I'll assume it's Ten,” Seven speaks up before you can answer. “The last Ten sort of stopped showing up here, so I think they’re dead. You’re probably his replacement.”

A shiver runs down your spine at her words. You feel especially disturbed by her casual tone and begin to wonder just how long everyone has been here to be so relaxed about everything.

“Y-yeah,” you shakily respond. “I think so.”

“Do you have Doctor Miles?” Four questions eagerly. “He’s really good with girls in my opinion.”

“They don’t assign doctors by number, dimwit,” Two speaks up. “It’s random. I think.”

“No, they get to choose,” Cyrus corrects. “Anyone who’s not overseeing someone currently usually gets to choose. But I’ve heard of doctors overseeing multiple people at once.”

“You know too much, dude.” You look over and see that the peach-gown girl with warm tan skin has spoken up finally, her voice a bit deeper than expected for someone as thin as she is. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep mouthing off so much about it.”

“They know I’m not going anywhere,” Cyrus reminds her. “I’m not a threat to anyone.”

“Sorry if I sound rude,” you chime in, feeling as though you’ve been completely ignored. “But, who are the rest of you?”

You learn that the girl with dark skin and the peach gown is Five, and her friend with the flat, short hair is number Six. The girl who had been laying on the couch away from the others is said to be Nine, but nobody really knows much about her since she spends most of her time away from everyone and on her own. The same is said of number Eight, who is the boy sitting in the corner alone. You don’t get to meet either of them, but do become slowly more familiar with the rest of the group as time passes. You begin to learn more about this place through Cyrus, whom you start to depend on more for information and begin to trust as a result. Seven, or Violet, finds this annoying, but doesn’t try to stop you from talking to him.

Despite some occasional rudeness or bluntness, most of your new friends seem to be kind and well-meaning. As you talk more and more with them, you begin to almost forget that you’re where you are. That is, until the topic comes up now and again. Only Three seems to be disconnected from the conversation, eventually excusing herself to go to the library instead with her brother. The others appear sympathetic to her and don’t question her choice to withdraw. A part of you wishes you could too, but you simultaneously feel that talking about your experience with others helps you cope with it.

“We’re all kind of forced to deal with it,” Cyrus admits. “I like talking with everyone, I like being able to read and write and play games and do anything I please. I have to grin and bear the other side of living here at the privilege of living freely otherwise.”

“The food’s not so bad either,” Four, or Blue, speaks up with a shrug. “I don’t remember if I’ve ever eaten lobster, but I know that it’s considered high class. What we get isn’t anything nearly that fancy, but it is pretty good.”

“How do you…cope with all of this?” You ask curiously, still unsure of how to process things. “I really don’t want to be here. But…I wouldn’t really know where else to go even if I somehow could escape successfully. I don’t know what the world is like out there, what time period we’re in, or who I used to be.”

“Trust me, we’ve all mulled it over,” Five speaks up, twirling a dark curl around her finger. “Some of us fought it more than others, but in the end, we really don’t belong anywhere else. If we do, we don’t know.”

“And we can’t do anything to stop them from toying with us either,” Violet crosses her arms and scowls, evidently embittered. “But it’s usually over in less than an hour, if we’re lucky.”

“You either find a way to cope, accept that it’s out of your control, or just enjoy the ride,” Blue says, oddly with a smile. “I personally enjoy it here. I can’t get pregnant, the employees are always clean, and I get to have a lot of fun. I enjoy the way it feels, but I know that not everyone does.”

"Hip, hip hooray for you," Violet scrunches up her face in annoyance, making Blue scowl at her.

“Has..anyone actually gotten pregnant before?” You ask, primarily looking to Cyrus for an answer. He simply nods and drops his eyes to the side.

“Pregnant girls sometimes come back,” Six responds for him. “But they don’t get to keep their babies. We think that the employees raise them at home. Or maybe abandon them.”

“Or worse,” Violet’s eyes glower. “But we don’t like to think about it. Our last pregnant girl disappeared not long before you got here. Eleven, I think.”

Silence befalls the room, with nobody else knowing what to say.

“She was a good friend,” Cyrus quietly remarks, but remains silent otherwise.

Before long, everyone is called back to the gate outside, and each member of your group leaves to be taken away by their doctor. When it’s your turn, you feel a sinking dread in your stomach. Being reminded that Yosuke is still here, that you’re still here, makes you sicker and sicker.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks you kindly. “Did you make friends?”

You look away instead of answering, so he quietly leads you to your room. Instead of re-entering room 10B, you go toward your bedroom just beyond that, in 10A. Unlike the other rooms, the bedroom doors are secured by lock and keypad, evidently to keep you imprisoned and to prevent escape. Yosuke punches in a code you can't see, and rather than being greeted with another slew of white walls once the door slides open, you’re greeted with cream pink walls and a rosy, twin sized bed with soft, cream sheets and a rose comforter that is up against the center wall. There is a door on the left wall, where you presume a bathroom to be. The door is metallic as well, like any other you’ve seen so far. There isn’t much other furniture around the room besides a nice white desk in the upper rightmost corner of the room, along with a rose wheeled chair. There are no decorations on the wall, and there is no carpet or flooring. In fact, the floor is quite the same as that of any other room you’ve been in so far, one with a white glow. However, it seems to complement the area rather than making it look bleak.

“This is…beautiful!” You remark, surprised. Yosuke leans In and places both hands on each of your shoulders. You try to shake him off disdainfully, but his grip remains firm.

“We’ve decorated it especially for you, my dear,” he coos. “We want you to be comfortable here.”

Yosuke loosens his grip then, and you step away from him, remembering where you are.

“Y-you’re not going to take advantage of me in here while I’m asleep, are you?” You question him, your eyes focused on his face with seriousness. Your caretaker chuckles softly at you.

“Only if you’d like,” he says simply.

“I wouldn’t.”

“We reserve our fun for the other rooms usually,” Yosuke continues, ignoring your remark. “Only I and my superior have the code for this room. If anyone wants to play with you, they won’t be able to without my say so. These codes are switched out with each new guest, special only to the ones that oversee them.”

“Just how often do you lose people and have to replace them?” You shake your head at the doctor. “And how could you possibly be a part of all this? Don’t you think this is wrong?”

“I like my work,” Yosuke admits with a calm smile. “And I like my fun. I was lucky enough to find a place that intermixes the two. Don’t overthink it so much. Just enjoy your time here.”

“You can’t do this to people forever!” You call out to him in anger. “Someone will escape, or your workers will grow tired of this and come out to the public. People will find out what you’re doing here, one way or another!”

“Goodnight, my dear,” Yosuke ignores your cries. “We’ll start up again later. I’ll have someone ready to use you first thing tomorrow.”

The door shuts behind him as he walks out. After it closes, you hear a loud whirring and clicking sound as it locks into place, assuring your imprisonment.

Chapter 4: Visit One - Present

“Is she ready?”

Your eyes open slowly and are blinded by white lights. You remember the sensation from before, and as you fully awaken, you begin to remember just where you are. You try to rub your eyes but find you can’t move your wrists, in fact they’ve been pinned above you and are wrapped tightly in some kind of silk ribbon and are tied to the frame of the bed to keep them in place. As you struggle to break free, you feel silk on your breasts, and you look down to see that you’ve been wrapped up in ribbons, with only your breasts and your crotch covered in a red ribbony bow. As you fully come to, you also notice that you can’t move your mouth to speak. You feel a tightened ribbon wrapped around your head, with a bow sticking out from where your mouth is. You try to cry out, but it comes out muffled. Whatever it is that’s in your mouth is clothy, and it scratches against your tongue unpleasantly. You try to move your legs, but can feel your ankles pinned together with a tightly wound ribbon as well, your body purely subdued with wrapping as if you were a living present.

The room you’re in is the same one you were in before, and you can tell right away. You remember the feeling of the soft fabric beneath you, the fluffiness of the mattress and sheets. The bed is tilted as it was the first time you came here, so you’re sitting up with your wrists pinned above you by ribbon. You feel nauseous, frustrated, and fearful, but know that whatever is coming to you can’t be avoided. You don’t know how you got here and can only assume Yosuke or someone else drugged you and moved you here, preparing you for your visitor.

Suddenly, you feel a warm hand on your stomach, and you look over to see a tall man with brown hair and blue eyes staring at you with a lustful gaze. His skin is peachy, and his musk is sweet and dry. He has a bit of stubble on his chin, but it doesn’t seem unbecoming of his strong face. He seems slightly older than Yosuke, yet is still, in some sense, handsome for whatever age he is. He’s not dressed like a doctor, but still is dressed in somewhat formal office attire. He looks almost like a businessman, dressed in a sharp long sleeve white shirt, a blue tie, and black slacks.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” the man grins, seeing that you’ve finally awoken. His voice is deep and a little on the rough side, but still controlled and soft-spoken for what it is. “We’re glad to have you here. Fresh young meat is always the most delectable.”

You groan and try to pull your hand away. No matter how much you have been told to give in, you can’t refuse to do so willingly, if you can help it.

The man moves his head up and looks away from you, toward the other side of the bed.
“She’s awake, Sven. We can start.”

Your eyes widen as you turn your head to see another man, one slightly younger than the first. He’s a bit shorter, but he’s trim and well-built. He has on a long sleeve grey blazer, with a white shirt underneath and grey slacks to match. He has an equally handsome face, but one slightly more babyish in comparison to the stubbly man. He has blond, tussled hair and hazel eyes, and his face is cleanly shaven. His reddish lips are curved In a knowing smirk as he sees you gaze upon him in horror. You weren’t expecting to have two visitors at once, not so soon.

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for a while,” Sven tells you, rubbing his cock from the outside of his pants. “You think you can just sleep us away?”

“We figured you’d be better presented to us like a gift,” the first man adds, clearly seeing your discomfort at being bound in soft ribbons. You keep trying to shake free, absolutely uncomfortable in your bonds and wanting to be clothed. Even Yosuke left your gown on.

“Aww, look how cute she is, trying to get away!” Sven laughs, moving his hand over your neck. “But you’re not going anywhere, baby. You’re staying right here and we’re going to fuck the shit out of you. You’re our present, so you’re going to get used.”

He looks up at the first man.

“Do you want the first taste, Jude?”

“Gladly”

The stubbly man moves in with his grimy paws and begins to unwrap your breasts, exposing them to the room’s cold air. You blush wildly and turn your head away, not even wanting to look at his perverted face as he hovers over you. Jude grabs both of your plump breasts in his thick hands and rubs them, gently at first, moaning as he does so in pleasure.

“Your tits feel so fucking good,” he breathes into you, his breath thick with a sort of sour smell. “So warm and soft.”

Meanwhile, Sven unzips his pants and begins to masturbate as he watches his partner paw at your chest. You instinctively try to push Jude off with violent, jerking motions, but he forces his weight on you and keeps you in place. After a while of groping you, he begins to suck on your left breast, moaning breathily as he flicks his tongue around and across your nipple, squeezing the other between his fingers. The sensation is painful at first, and you give a muffled yelp in response. Both men laugh at you in amusement, with Sven beginning to quicken his pace as he moves his hand up and down his shaft. He lets out a few breathy groans as he watches you struggle, and meanwhile, Jude begins to lick at your nipples more furiously, sucking on your left breast with more force. He moves in to suck, then lets the tip of your nipple pop out, making a loud POP sound as he drops your breast. He continues to do this while caressing and squeezing your right breast with his other hand. Continuing on until Sven finally climaxes upon watching it all. He points his cock into your face and comes all over it, forcing you to shut your eyes and feel the hot semen dribble all over your forehead, nose, cheeks, and the ribbon over your lips.

It smells disgusting to you, musky and sour and nothing like your first assailant’s. You let out a discomforted groan, causing Sven to laugh at you.

“That’s a good girl. You like it like that?”

Jude, meanwhile, pulls away from your chest and climbs onto the bed, sitting over you and mounting you to where his crotch is close to your breasts. He helps you out just a moment by wiping your eyes of Sven’s semen, wanting you to see what he’s going to do.

He reaches down to unzip his black slacks and pulls out his rather long, red-tipped cock. As if understanding what to do, Sven leans over, using his soft hands to press your tits together to give his partner something to fuck.

Jude hovers over you, pressing one hand on the topmost edge of the bed to steady himself, and angles his cock down so that he can insert it into the pocket Sven has made of your breasts just for him. Sven spits over your tits to give his friend something to lube him up, and soon, Jude begins to thrust forward and backward, pumping his cock between your breasts. You can feel the texture of his shaft and his head pushing between the skin, and you want to fight it but cannot. You groan in protest, but both men find this arousing and chuckle in response.

“I love it when my presents sing,” Sven coos, huffing his hot breath into your face. You shake your head and try to scream, but everything comes out muffled. You raise your head up to avoid having Jude’s cock thrust into your face, but can still feel it throbbing close enough to touch beneath your chin. Jude continues to thrust in and out of your tits, while Sven forces them together and massages the outer part of them with his soft fingers, wiggling them around rapidly and in rhythm to his partner’s thrusts to add to the sensations you’re feeling. Very soon, Jude begins to grunt and pant with pleasure, and he begins to groan.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He announces to you, and with a few more thrusts, he spurts his juices into your face. Most of it lands on your chin, but Sven immediately releases one of your breasts and grabs your scalp, forcing your head forward so that the rest of Jude’s cum splatters over it.

“That’s right, give her a facial, nice and good,” Sven grins.

When Jude has finished climaxing, he moves off of you and the bed, instead moving toward the edge of it by your feet. He does not untie the ribbon around your ankles, but rather moves your legs over his head and moves forward so that your feet are dangling over his broad shoulders and your pussy is up in his face. Slowly, he unwraps the ribbon around your crotch and exposes you to the cold air. Meanwhile, Sven grabs the ribbon around your mouth and pulls it down. He yanks the cloth from out of your mouth, and you cough in response to being able to breathe again. Before you have a chance to protest, he shoves himself inside and begins to thrust. Rather than guiding your head the way Yosuke had done the first time you were throatfucked, Sven forces you to be still while he pumps in and out of your mouth. As you are barely focusing on him, you suddenly feel Jude’s thick, wet tongue flicking across your clit, with him opening your labia with two fingers to expose your vagina. You try to moan, but Sven’s thrust interrupts you and you briefly choke instead. The sound you produce makes Sven laugh, and he teases you.

“You like my fucking cock, pretty girl? You want me to go even deeper?”

Jude groans from below you, speeding up his flicking motions and making you wetter and wetter. You feel your head being banged against the bed repeatedly as Sven violently rapes your mouth, and you struggle to breathe as he does so. Heavy, muffled inhales escape your nostrils as you try to inhale sharply through your nose, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you breathe with a heavy pace to keep up with Sven’s violent thrusts.

You can feel Jude’s tongue start to ender your pussy, with his warm and thick fingers massaging your clit in a circular motion. He starts slowly at first, but soon begins to quicken the pace to keep up with his partners. You begin to feel warm again, but can’t bring yourself to moan and groan anymore as you’re being choked by Sven’s cock, with no breaks in between thrusts.

“Don’t fight it, girl!” Sven grunts, his breathing rapid and hot. “Your mouth is mine, your fucking throat is mine!” he slams one hand on the bedframe to keep himself steady while he rams into your mouth furiously. Meanwhile, Jude’s pace is now the same as his partner’s, and he tongues your pussy with intense fury, passionate and strong. You feel as though you’re about to come, and so you start to pull your wrists and flail, bucking your hips as you ride the face of the man eating you out. You can feel the stubble on his chin and cheeks against your labia as you grind, adding to the pleasure. Both men begin to groan as your orgasm begins, and Sven cries out,

“Get ready to swallow all my goddamn cum, baby!”

Soon, you climax, spurting your juices all over Jude’s mouth, and Sven in turn comes into your throat, pumping hot semen into you so deeply that you reflexively swallow all of it like warm milk. Even when you’ve finished, he continues to ejaculate into your throat, and you almost choke on his juices until he finally finishes and pulls away from you, his dick sliding out with a dribble of cum and saliva following from your lips.

You begin to pant, finally able to breathe again, your chest heavily rising and falling. Sven and Jude smirk at you, utterly pleased at your response.

“Yosuke was right, she’s really fucking good,” Jude notes, giving one last, hard thrust with his fingers into your pussy, making you quiver and groan. “But we still want a little more from you.”

Jude nods with a smirk at his partner. He ducks his head under your legs, returning them to a flat position, and instead moves up and climbs over you. This time, he rubs his crotch against yours, the head of his dick pressing up against your clit.

“Do you think she’s ready to go again after that squirt?” Jude asks his partner devilishly. Sven chuckles and grabs your throat, forcing your head onto the pillow and stopping you from trying to fight back.

“She better be.”

Before you have a chance to protest, Sven shoves the cloth he yanked out of your mouth back in, pushing it all the way down until it’s scratching at the back of your tongue. You scream in protest as he does this, but your cries are muffled as the cloth is forced inside your mouth.

“Keep her down,” Jude commands his partner, who obliges by pressing his weight against your chest. He sucks on your breasts the way Jude did, while still keeping one hand wrapped around your neck. You are unable to see Jude’s movements with Sven’s body in the way, but you can feel him grinding against your vulva to get himself ready to fuck you. You give a slight whimper, but Sven strengthens his grip on your neck and keeps you from letting the noise escape your throat.

“Be a good girl and let him rape you,” He groans between his sucking. Jude then begins to enter you, your pussy now sopping wet from earlier and allowing him to glide in without too much trouble. Your insides still wrap around his cock tightly in response to his entry, so he gives a heavy groan as he pushes forward, forcing his way in. Your body doesn’t want to let him, but he won’t let you stop him.

Soon, he begins to thrust in and out of you, his heavy scrotum slapping against you as he does. He lets out a flurry of moans as he quickens his pace, not taking his time the way Yosuke had with you. He goes as quickly as he physically can, slapping against you with loud, wet noises and focused grunts while Sven keeps you in your place. You try to scream as Jude bucks his hips wildly against you, fucking you incessantly. You shake your wrists about, but the ribbon seems to tighten around them the more you struggle. Sven reaches his thumb up from your neck and rubs against your bottom lip, stimulating it while the rest of your body is being tortured by his sucking mouth and Jude’s long cock.

You feel your body burning with pleasure as Jude fucks you with fierceness, his crotch slamming against your clit with every thrust. You soon begin to feel dizzy with desire, but continue to try to fight the sensation. However, both men’s heavy panting and grunting turns you on immensely, their noises almost boyish and loving as they play with your body. You find yourself ready to climax, and Jude feels it too. You feel his cock throbbing inside you with intent to inseminate you.

“Keep her still, keep her still!” he calls out to Sven, who pushes down harder on you as you’re pounded by your assailant. Soon, the both of you let out pleasured, loud grunts, with Jude coming into your pussy furiously, and you orgasming intensely in response. You throw your head back and cry out, but your screams are muffled by the cloth in your mouth. Both you and Jude continue to thrust against each other instinctively until your climaxes have ended. Once you’ve calmed down, Jude moves off of the bed and tries to catch his breath.

“God, this girl is really something,” he pants. Sven smirks and looks into your plastered eyes with hunger.

“Well, it’s my turn now. But I’ll take a different position.”

Rather than mount you while you’re on your back, he turns your body over and forces you on your knees, much to your protest. The ribbon twists around your wrists as you’re spun around, tightening around you even more. Sven pushes your head down into the pillow and spreads your labia, gleefully laughing as he sees the mess his partner left in you.

“You sure can take a lot of cum, baby!” He calls out. “You wanna take some more for me, hm?”

He turns to his partner.

“Hold her down now. I want both hands open while I ride her.”

“Alright, alright,” is Jude’s only response. He moves over to the top of the bed and forcefully takes your hair in his hands, pushing you into the pillow and keeping you from turning your head. You are still able to breathe, but only just enough. You pant and gasp as fear wells up in your stomach. This position is unfamiliar to you, but you absolutely don’t like it.

Soon, you feel Sven’s throbbing cock slide into you from behind, taking your pussy and making it his. He does the same thing as Jude, starting slow at first but eventually quickening his pace. You find that he has slightly more stamina than Jude, as he pumps into your body with an even quicker pace than his friend and is able to do so for longer, without taking a break. Sven holds your waist steady with one hand, but gives your left cheek a hard spank with his other, causing a sensation in you that hurts, but feels pleasurable. You feel a sting from where he slapped you as he pulls his hand away, and you can’t help but let out a long moan. Jude chuckles.

“Look at that, she likes it!”

Sven breathily laughs and smacks your ass one more time while riding you, again bringing about the pleasurable, painful sensation. You try to tell him to stop, but the words continue to be muffled by the cloth in your mouth and the pillow in your face. You feel him smack you one more time, but this time, it triggers something in you. His thrusts coupled with the pleasure from being spanked causes you to grind up against him, desperate and hungry for more pleasure. Sven laughs between pants and grunts, grabbing onto the other side of your waist with his free hand and focusing on pumping into you harder and harder until you can’t stand it anymore. The air reeks of semen and sweat, the room echos with each slap against your ass and pussy as Sven thrusts hard and deep into you. Within moments, the both of you begin to climax. You feel Sven’s throbbing cock swell inside of you, but he doesn’t even bother to announce his euphoric state. Instead, you hear him grunt loudly and repeatedly as he pumps into you, releasing his juices into your body with each, slow thrust. You can feel his cum dribbling into you and down your labia, and you let out a loud, muffled moan as his semen enters your body.

After your climax, both Jude and Sven release your body, letting you fall onto the bed. Sven pants heavily as he dismounts you and hops off the bed. Both men clean themselves up using towelettes in the room’s cabinet drawers, and they zip their pants back up. You remain in a cloudy, euphoric state on your bed, and both men hover over your body with wide smiles.

“You were good today, pretty one,” Jude coos, giving your cheek a kiss. “I hope to play with you again soon.”

Sven says nothing, but removes the cloth from your mouth, allowing you to let out quiet moans as you continue to shiver with pleasure. With one hand, he rubs your cheek and chuckles.

“Be as good a girl for everyone else as you were for me, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “You’re going to be real popular around here.”

Without another word or a goodbye, the two men walk out of your room, leaving you tied up and dripping with their cum.

You pass out, but wake up again after an unknown amount of time. You see nothing but white, and feel water dripping onto you. You realize then, that you're in the shower once more.

As you come to, you find Yosuke towering over you. His sleeves are rolled up, and he’s not wearing his lab coat. His glasses are also off, so that they don’t steam up while he cleans you.

You almost want to reach out and hug him, instinctively, desperate for someone to lean on, but you stop yourself. Your senses remain dulled, but you are awake enough to let tears fall from your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you tell him, shivering. The young man looks at you sympathetically, but continues to bathe your body, moving the shower head over your breasts to wash away the soap he put on you while you were unconscious. You try to move his hand away, but he shakes his head.

“You don’t have a choice, my dear,” he speaks softly but sternly. “You’ll have to grin and bear it.”

“Yosuke...” you cry, leaning against him with your head buried in his now-wet shirt. “I hate it here.”

Your caretaker stares at you for a moment, but you can’t tell what his expression is as your face is buried in his shirt. You hear him drop the showerhead and immediately feel his hands on your shoulders. When you look up, he moves in to kiss you hard. Leaning your head against the wall of the shower. He moves his tongue into your mouth and presses hard against your lips with his. His tongue is sweet and gentle, and you find it hard to resist him. He breathes heavily through his nose as he takes you, and even though you know he’s an awful person, you find comfort in his gentle touch, opposite to that of your recent assailants.

He soon pulls back, restraining himself. You don’t know then whether he kissed you because he cared about you, or because you looked vulnerable to him. He strikes you as the type to like vulnerable girls, after all. Regardless, you’re left feeling awful. You reprimand yourself harder this time as well—you don’t want to want him, and yet you find that you’re starting to.

“Finish up and get dressed,” Yosuke commands suddenly, rising from his kneeling position. He opens the shower door and leaves, waiting for you outside instead and leaving you naked where you are.

Chapter 5: Rest Two - Throws

“Hey, are you alright?” The plump, peach-dressed Five leans forward on the table to look at your face which is angled downward. You don’t appear to be touching your plate, which she’s taken notice of. “You oughtta eat something while you can.”

She shakes your shoulder when you don’t respond, snapping you back to.

“Wh..what?”

“Hey, welcome back to planet Earth, honey.” Five takes a forkful of her food and pops it into her mouth. As she chews, you smell the plate in front of you. It’s some kind of roasted white fish over a bed of greens you can’t identify, but they smell herby and light.

You’re in the cafeteria, a place with white walls like the other rooms, and metallic grey benches. There’s not much to really look at aside from a lone trash can in the corner of the wall closest to the entrance. Behind you is an area where people can pick up food, but any view of human life from behind the counter is blocked off by what you assume is some kind of pane or mirror. Either way, any view of the kitchen or whatever else is behind the counter is hidden, and there’s only a small slit between this cover and the counter to allow for food to be put out, or dirty dishes to be put in. There’s a door to the very right by the corner and at the end of this long counter, but it’s sealed off and won’t open.

Not everyone is in the cafeteria with you, and you’re not sure where they are. Only you, Violet, Five, and Eight seem to be there at the moment, though naturally, Eight’s on the opposite side of the room and away from the rest of you. He’s eating quietly, but slowly, you notice.

“I’m, not really feeling too well right now,” you admit, finally responding to your worried friend. From across you, Violet stops chewing and swallows whatever she’s horked into her mouth. She’s hunched over her plate, sort of ignoring everyone else but not necessarily isolating herself either. You figure she doesn’t want to be left alone, but doesn’t seem particularly interested in being super friendly.

“You have a rough time today or something?” She guesses, raising a brow. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I can’t do that,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to get used to it.”

“What did they do?” Five continues to invest herself in you as she no doubt is worried. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t like being used so goddamn much,” You ball up your fist. “I don’t like feeling out of control and I don’t like being taken by strange men. They keep referring to me as some kind of a doll or a toy and I just…”

“I repeat,” Violet scrunches up her face. “You get used to it. They give us all kinds of gross pet names and tell us all kinds of gross things. If you don’t learn to deal, you’ll probably go crazy.”

“Knock it off, Vi,” Five warns her. She turns back to you and puts a warm hand on your back. “Look, we’re all here for each other. I know It’s rough, but you have us to talk to. If you need to cry or need some time alone, then that’s okay. Okay?”

You nod.

“The last guy I was with did a lot of weird stuff to me.” You try to force yourself to eat, though you don’t think you ever liked fish much, since you almost don’t want to touch it. Or maybe you’re just sick to your stomach from earlier. You’ll believe either.

“Stuff I’m not used to," you continue. "I wasn’t ready for it, and it made me feel demeaned and used. I don’t like the way it feels when they do stuff to me, but then I suddenly do and just start losing control. I don’t want to, but I somehow can’t stop myself.”

“Your first problem is fighting it to begin with,” Violet mumbles as she takes another bite of her fish. “I hate it just as much as you do, but if I act like a good little girl in bed then they finish faster.”

“It’s not that easy for me,” you tell her. “I can’t bring myself to just let go unless I suddenly can’t voluntarily control myself.”

“Well, maybe it’ll make you feel less guilty if you think about how they might have you on all kinds of drugs,” Five informs you. “It’s pretty common for them to dose you up while they move you between rooms. There’s a chance you’re going crazy because of that, but I really don’t know for sure. I’m a little ashamed of it, but sometimes find myself enjoying it halfway in too, but I can’t tell if it’s because I like it or because I’m being programmed to.”

You drop your fork.

“H-hey, that’s not funny...”

“Who’s joking?” Violet takes her grey cup and chugs whatever sweet liquid is inside of it. “They’re fucked up here. Anything’s possible.”

She gets up with her plate and cup in hands and turns away, taking them to a counter where someone else will no doubt deal with her mess. You sigh and continue to eat, and Five stays close by so that you feel comforted.

“How many times a day do they do this?” You ask her. “I’ve only done this twice in what I’m assuming is two days.”

“It depends on who you have,” your peachy companion answers you, moving her hand back to her fork. “Blue’s doctor sometimes arranges three or more visits a day, but some people get lucky and just have one. On really good days, everyone might be too busy and you’ll have a chance to rest.”

“So what, they could just yank me out of here and say ‘hey, we’re horny’?” You wince, discomforted at the thought. Much to your disdain, Five gives a slight nod.

“It’s happened before,” she responds bluntly. “But if what Cyrus says is true, then they have plenty of other people to cycle through besides just us, so there’s always a chance they won’t.”

She takes a slow sip of her drink to wet her tongue and throat before continuing her discussion.

“Who’s your doctor, anyway?” She asks you. “I don’t think you mentioned yesterday.”

“Chisaka,” you hesitantly respond, tightening your grip around your fork. “I don’t know how to feel about him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had him before,” Five ponders, looking up in thought. “I don’t even know if I’ve heard much about him. Maybe he’s pretty new.”

“He doesn’t seem like it,” you scowl. “He knows what he’s doing. He likes innocent girls. Or innocent people in general. I don’t know.”

“That might be why,” Five chuckled. “Maybe Violet or Three know him, but I can’t talk to Three about this stuff. She’s still refuses to acknowledge that it happens, though I wish she’d talk about it just so she doesn’t hold it in. I’m not sure what she does to cope with it.”

“Well, it does really feel good to have someone to talk to,” you admit, taking a slow bite of your food. The fish is well cooked and decorated with light herbs and lemon. Coupled with the greens, it gives off a very mild and gentle, but tangy flavor. After having to swallow so much cum with so strong and raw a flavor, light and herby is a welcome taste to your tongue. The lemon even helps to clear up whatever peppery and salty tastes are lingering on it. “I feel kind of weird about Yosuke though.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to depend on him or care about him or anything else,” you explain, looking down. “But I think I’m depending on him a little more now. With my last visit, I couldn’t stop thinking about him in comparison to the men who were using me.”

“Men?” Five looks shocked. “You had more than one so soon?”

“Yeah.” You tussle the rest of the greens around your plate, letting the fish flake off with each movement. “They tied me up and took turns.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…”

You shake your head.

“Anyway…I think I passed out afterward,” you go on. “I just remember waking up and clinging to Yosuke in the shower. He seemed to almost worry about me, and I think something about that made me feel like he actually…cared?”

“Do you actually like him?” the dark-curled girl leans in with interest as If you’re confessing some schoolgirl crush. “I mean, it’s not like it hasn’t happened, but, do you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a frown, your eyebrows lowering. “I feel like I might be attached to him now. I don’t want to be, especially since he’s the first guy who…you know.”

You sigh.

“But something about how he tries to take care of me, or something about his voice and his face and his body…I don’t know. And before I came in here, he started kissing me in the shower. I was…really confused. I almost wanted him to…”

You shut your eyes and shake your head, almost shivering. You trail off, but your peachy companion understands where you’re going and nods slowly.

“Is it wrong?” You ask her desperately. “Am I just fucked up?”

“You shouldn’t trust any of them,” calls a dry voice from your right, interrupting Five before she can respond. You take notice of Eight, who is now rising from his table with his empty cup and plate in hand. “None of the workers here are innocent. None of them actually care about you.”

“Eight…” Five give off a warning tone, glaring at him. But, the boy persists, walking toward the both of you as he makes his way to the counter to deposit his dishes. You grimace as you see his face more clearly, only being reminded of Yosuke’s eyes. You can see now that the shade of them and his hair is far different than Yosuke’s, but there are still some parts of his jaw line and nose that remind you of him. Even his thick-rimmed glasses remind you of Yosuke’s, though they’re not quit the same rectangular shape as your caretaker’s.

“You’re giving me a pretty disgusted look,” he calls you out after taking note of your response to him. “I’m assuming you think I look like him. People before you thought so too.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” you admit, looking away, refusing to give him eye contact in fear that you’ll just think of your doctor.

“I can’t say I’m really flattered,” Eight bluntly retorts. “I’m the one who has to live with it, anyway. But, I’m not related to him in the least, if that’s what you’re wondering. I am familiar with Doctor Chisaka though, but I’m not the least bit proud about being so.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now,” Five chimes in in an attempt to control the conversation as she notices your increasingly more upset expression. However, Eight persists.

“He doesn’t care about you,” he expresses with extreme callousness. “He’s using you, the way he uses everyone else. He lulls people in with his gentle caretaking role just so he can manipulate his victims into wanting him. He’s messing with your head, and if you fall for it, you’re just going to wind up being his toy forever. He wants to you want to stay here, with him. He wants you to beg for him. He wants someone to be special. His.”

Your eyes widen at the idea. In part, you knew this to be true, but during your encounter in the shower, you almost had let yourself forget it willingly.

“Before you came along, he used me as his personal toy,” Eight continues, gripping his cup and plate with more force. “But he didn’t think I was good enough for him. I wasn’t submitting to him the way he wanted, so he chose someone else. From what I heard, he’s bounced around a lot in search of someone just right for him. I’ll bet he thinks he’s lucky that you came along.”

He steps toward you and stares you down. You feel his glare piercing through you, yet you refuse to look him back in the eyes.

“No doctor here is trustworthy. Don’t let yourself forget that. Chisaka might even try to act like he loves you, but it’s all a sham. He’s keeping you pretty and innocent. He gets off on your purity, on your weakness. He wants you to be his property, and he knows just how to play you. Why else do you think he chose you? You’re gullible and naïve.”

“Eight, come on, stop this,” Five lowers her dark brows in response to his ranting. “She doesn’t need to hear this right now.”

“He picked you because you were a virgin. He picked you because you’re resistant. He gets off on toying with you,” Eight persists. “So fight him if you still can. Otherwise, you’re going to end up like Four. Happy. Accepting. Stupid. Even she resisted once, before she became such a goddamned disappointment.”

Without giving you a chance to respond, Eight walks off toward the counter and drops his things off before walking past you and toward the entrance of the cafeteria. You see the doors separate to let him through, then clang shut before he’s completely gone. You say nothing, but Five tries to chime in to break the silence.

“Oh, hon, I’m really sorry about him. Eight’s…very straightforward about things. He doesn’t usually like to talk to us, but he sometimes goes on these rants and—"

You let your fork drop back onto the plate and exhale.

“I’m not surprised by what he said,” you finally speak up. “I felt like everything he had to say about Yosuke was the case with him when I met him and when he…” You sigh and put a hand to your temple, shutting your eyes for a moment. “…I think I’m forgetting to keep my head straight. But I’m going to try.”

“Whatever you think is best. Just don’t push yourself too hard.” Five rises from the table and grabs her dishes. “I’m going to go see if Six is around. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Explore, I guess.” You push your plate away, your food only half eaten. You don’t find that you have much of an appetite anymore anyway. Or maybe you never even did. You rise as well, but Five doesn’t stick around to wait for you. So, you go the counter behind you to deposit your stuff, only to find that some of the others’ dishes have already been picked up. You almost want to try peeking through the gap to see who’s back there, and as you try to duck your head to do so, you see the shadow of a figure sweep by, taking you by surprise. You drop your cup, but are almost afraid to kneel to pick it up, not sure of what you’ll see from the gap again as you do so. You decide to simply leave, not wanting to let whoever’s back there have a chance to interact with you, and not wanting to have to see them either.

Instead, you quickly rush out the cafeteria doors and into the dim-lit hallway. You look up and see the labels on all the other doors you couldn’t make out the first time you came here, surprised at how long the hallway really is when you see it up close. From the security gate, it didn’t seem to be so grand.

Above the other doors are labels like GYM, POOL, CRAFTS ROOM, ARCADE, INFIRMARY, and GARDEN. You wonder how exactly a facility like this, deprived of sunlight, is able to maintain a garden successfully. However, you suppose that if these people can create mind-altering drugs, then maybe their capacity to keep a livable garden in an underground facility is not beyond them. Are doctors good botanists? Do the doctors here even have hobbies other than science, medicine, and sex? You start to wonder whether you’re asking the right questions anymore, or if they even matter in the long run. Though, you find that clinging to your inner thoughts is better than just letting your mind go limp and numb.

You notice that the infirmary is locked and only accessible by keypad. Like the office in front of the gate, it’s the only room in the hallway beyond the gate with one single door, but you hadn’t noticed it before when you first came here. Underneath the infirmary keypad is a button with the label CALL DOCTOR.

No thanks, you think to yourself, not the least bit willing to let any doctor help you even if you need them for their legitimate medical assistance. They may be trained to help you, but you’re not keen on the doctor-patient relationship now that you’re being sexually exploited by them. You’d rather sit with a broken arm or cut body than let a doctor touch you willingly. Doing so might let them prattle on about how you’re technically inviting them in, knowing how they’ve been talking to you and how they operate.

With curiosity, and ignoring the infirmary, you decide to enter the doors with the GYM label, thinking that maybe some physical activity that isn’t just sex will help you take out some frustrations. To your surprise, you see a glossy wooden court, one that really does look like a gym, or at least you think it does. You start wondering why you remember what things are but not anything much else. You can recall what countries there are, but you have no idea what time period you’re in. You can recall your ABC’s but you don’t know if you’ve ever been to school. Were you homeschooled? Did you have a family?

Your head starts to fill with that TV static again, a most unpleasant and unwelcome feeling. You suppose it’s better not to think too hard about it, so you focus again on the gymnasium before you. Like most gyms, there are basketball hoops on either side, and the walls are padded with white cushions to prevent anyone from serious injury. There are a few benches, but no bleachers since there aren’t necessarily a whole lot of people in your group to watch any kind of game. There’s a door in the far back corner to your right that has the label SHOWERS above it. If not for the strange coloring of the walls and the sci-fi looking door, you might suppose that you’re in a regular school gym or something of the sort.

You hear the pounding of a basketball and a grunt from someone to your left, and when you turn, you see the lavender girl that you spotted on the couch yesterday. Much to your absolute surprise, she is dressed in nothing but her white underwear. You watch her as she glistens with sweat and tosses the basketball from her hands with ease, letting it glide into the net. She looks almost professional in her form—other than being almost naked, of course. Her breasts are uncovered, you notice. They’re not quite as sizable as Blue’s, but they are supple and perky. Her nipples are small and pink, and her frame is built, but still soft and curved. She has muscles, but still looks relatively thin.

You also notice that her light blonde hair is up, wrapped with some kind of hair tie you suppose she had somewhere on her or was given. She looks like a genuine basketball player, and as she lands barefoot on the ground from her jump, she grins at her successful toss. Within moments of finishing, she notices you standing there, gawking awkwardly at her. She stares into you with her amber colored eyes, confident and demanding.

“What?” she questions, one brown brow lowered. “You need something?”

“Um…” You look away, almost blushing. “Is there a reason you’re like, naked?”

“Those stupid gowns don’t let me play properly,” is the lavender girl’s only answer. She bends over to grab the basketball from the ground after it begins to bounce toward her, and when she rises, she rests the orange thing on her hip, keeping it in place between her forearm and upper arm.

“I’m not embarrassed by my body, if that’s what you’re trying to get at,” she shoots out without letting you respond. “It’s mine, so I use it and show it how I want.”

“You’re Nine, right?” You ask curiously. The girl nods.

“I’m assuming you’re the new Ten.”

“Yeah.”

You try to avoid staring at her body, but you can’t bring yourself to with it’s creamy complexion glowing into your eyes.

“Do you…do this a lot?” You almost feel embarrassed asking her. It’s likely none of your business, but you aren’t used to not being ashamed of your own body, so you can’t imagine a girl being so confident with her own.

“I do,” Nine answers you with an almost offended tone. “Should I not?”

“It’s a bit strange for me, sorry.”

Nine begins to bounce her basketball again. “It’s how I cope,” she tells you, preparing to shoot it at the net from a distance. “I’m not fond of what goes down here. I don’t like what people do to me, but doing this lets me feel in control of things. I take control of what’s mine when I can and learn to let go when I can’t.”

She runs up and gives a quick jump, tossing the ball out yet again. And, yet again, it swishes into the net with ease, bouncing back onto the gym floor. Nine turns toward you and motions you toward her with her hand.

“Wanna play?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think I know how. I’m not sure I’m the sporty type.”

“We can always find out,” the girl laughs, her strong voice now a little more gentle. “I can put my gown back on if you’re that uncomfortable. Most of the others don’t bother coming in here when I’m here, so it’s actually kind of nice to have a visitor.”

“Are they embarrassed too?”

Nine shakes her head. “I think they just want to respect my space, which I’m pretty happy with. It’s not like they haven’t seen a naked woman before. This place is full of horn dogs, so nothing’s new. But I know for sure Violet doesn’t like it.” She gives a hearty chortle. “Then again, she doesn’t really like anyone other than Cyrus. She’s been puppy-dogging him for a while now. I don’t think he likes her that way, but he’s not the kind to make a fuss. He kind of lets her have her little crush because it helps her feel better.”

“I’m surprised people have the energy to feel adoration for each other in the midst of everything,” you thoughtlessly respond, almost bitterly. But, you catch yourself and put a hand to your mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, was that mean?”

You half-realize you were projecting, but hope Nine doesn’t notice. She shrugs her shoulders in response.

“Vi says a lot of mean stuff herself, almost kind of like a defense mechanism. We don’t really think much of it, so I think you’re fine.” She reaches down to grab her basketball yet again. “You can call me Lav if you want, since most of the whispy girls around here do. They really like their color names. But I prefer my number. It sounds more cool and mysterious. Nine!”

“I’ll stick with that, then,” you smile with an acknowledging nod. You finally start to adjust to her nudeness and her bold personality, and quietly agree to join in on her basketball game. You play one-on-one, but, unsurprisingly, she outmaneuvers you constantly, and you miss almost every shot you attempt to make. You admit that the gown does make it harder for you to play, but you don’t think you have the confidence to play mostly naked like she does. You’re still not comfortable with letting other people see you nude, and she silently understands your position without having to acknowledge it. The more you play, the more your muscles begin to ache. However, you almost prefer this, since your mind begins to wander far away from everything that’s been happening to you and you can focus on actually having a bit of fun, even though you’re losing. After a while of play, you finally call it quits, bending over to grab your knees, sweating, and panting.

“I can’t keep up with you at all!” You exclaim, much to Nine’s delight. She grins and laughs.

“Thanks,” she responds. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I probably did this even before I got here. I was already pretty athletic my first time here.”

She once again holds the basketball on her hip and shrugs.

“Maybe you oughtta clean off real quick. I’m probably gonna stay here until they call us for bed. I have a lot of stamina, y’know.”

You almost want to question this remark, but you don’t feel like deeply considering the double meaning and the following implications. Instead, you nod and make your way to the showers. They seem pretty similar to the ones across from your room, and the collection of soaps is relatively the same as well. You again refuse to use any of them, though you already smell better than before since Yosuke had used some on you earlier while you were passed out. You push him out of your mind as you clean off your body, though you don’t bother to rinse your head again and instead splash some water on your face and behind your ears. You take a towel and dry off, and notice that there’s a bin in the corner with USED TOWELS on it, so you presume you have to discard yours there.

Once you’re finished, you head out to the gym again and see Nine making more jump shots, watching her body fly as she springs upward. You wonder how on earth she has that kind of energy, but you think it’s impressive. None of the others seem like the sporty type either, so you imagine she doesn’t have anyone to really play basketball with her. You give her a wave before you exit the gym, which she returns with her own.

As you enter the hallway again, you almost want to go back to the rec room to see if anyone else has arrived. But, you aren’t much in the mood to sit by the TV again. Instead, you decide to try the garden, hoping that there’s some kind of beauty in this place that you can enjoy. As the double doors slide open, you are greeted with bright natural lighting, almost as If you were in a legitimate greenhouse. Before you are rows and rows of planters with bushy flowers of various colors, each one marked along the edge of the planter by their name. Various bright colors, reds, whites, yellows, pinks, and all colors in between bring a sense of vivid beauty to the room. The floor is decorated in such a way that it looks like actual dirt, but it’s still smooth and flat beneath your feet like the other floors in the facility. The walls are half painted with green colors to mimic the look of bushes, but are otherwise smooth and flat like the floor.

Above you, you can see that the ceiling has been tinted and has lights hidden behind panes which emit just enough light in just the right way to mimic a real sky. It’s absolutely stunning, this room. There are even some hanging plants from the ceiling, closer to the edges where the walls are. Big, leafy plants and flowery bushels surround you, overwhelming your senses. The air Is sweet and damp, a lovely and inviting, fresh smell. You are almost surprised that this garden is even functional in such a lifeless, artificial place.

You peruse up and down the rows of garden flowers, admiring and getting a gentle whiff of each one. They all emit a similar sweet smell, but some emit more strong an odor than others. As you pass by the end of one planter, you notice a door to your left by the wall that leads to another part of the gardens, where you find actual trees and bushes with some flowers sprinkled about on the ground. The floor has false dirt pathways that wind around bundles of bushes, and the trees are not too tall, but tall enough to tower over you slightly. You aren’t familiar with these trees, but they have brilliant deep green leaves that hang from branches that extend outward from the trunk like lightning. The trees seem to be stunted somewhat in comparison from what you know about the heights of trees, and you think this is intentional, since growing a real tree in a place like this would require a much taller, much larger space.

In the midst of your wonderment, you hear a stifled, girlish moan from somewhere to your right, but you can’t seem to see anyone else nearby. Your heart jumps at the noise, but you want to know where it’s coming from. You soon begin chiding yourself for your foolish curiosity, as when you turn past the edge of one bush, you find both twins from before lying flat on the floor, and you hear the girlish moaning with alarming clarity.

Chapter 6: Visit Two - Bedroom

Your eyes almost don’t want to adjust to the image of both red-colored siblings, but they do. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep it shut, not wanting to alert them to your presence, disturbed by the sight of their activity. Three’s sibling has his head between her spread and bent legs, her red gown raised above her chest to expose her small breasts, what little of them there are. Two’s tongue wipes over his sister’s dripping pussy with long, gentle strokes that end upward toward her clit, which he flicks hard. Each lick leaves the girl groaning with her high-pitched voice, almost squealing. She continues to try to control her noises, but lets a few squeals out without thinking.

She’s gripping the branches of a bush behind her, her elbows bent and her arms flat out on either side of her. Three lets out a few gentle moans to help his sister reach her climax, his voice vibrating against her body and making her squeal harder. The girl begins to beg her brother for more, and in response he rubs her smooth thighs with his boyish hands, taking two fingers and rubbing his sister’s clit gently while he inserts his wet tongue into her.

You want to back away, but you find yourself paralyzed with shock at the sight of both siblings in arms. Your image of Two’s initial friendliness is almost shattered, and you begin to question whether there are others among the group who have interests as unconventional as he does.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Three’s girlish moans yet again, as she begins to thrust her body against her brother’s face while he tongues her and massages his clit with tender care.

“More, more!” she wails, enamored. Her brother complies, quickening his pace slightly and moaning more and more until his sister can no longer bear it any longer. She grinds endlessly into her brother’s face as she orgasms, shaking and shivering all over her body as she does so. Two stops and slurps up his sister’s juices, trying to keep her clean and avoid making a mess. As he is finishing doing so, you back away quietly and try to exit the room without alerting them to the fact that you’ve witnessed everything.

As you try to quickly make your way out of the garden, you hear a chime from above you, an intercom that rings a soft bell to alert you of how late it is. You’d heard it yesterday, before all the doctors came to collect everyone.

As the garden door shuts behind you, you see Blue and both peach girls emerge from the rec center. Blue waves toward you from afar.

“Hey, Ten!” She calls with a smile. “I haven’t seen you today!”

She gets slowly closer to you but stops as she catches sight of your face. “Hey, you look really pale. Seen a ghost or something?”

The garden doors suddenly open from behind you, and you whip around to catch sight of a very surprised Two. It doesn’t take him even a moment for his eyes to widen as he realizes that you likely saw him eating his sister out. He trembles his lips as if desiring to respond to you, but a familiar voice calls you from behind the gate down the hallway.

“My pet,” Yosuke gently summons you. “It’s time for bed.”

You say nothing to the very confused Blue or the horrified and embarrassed Two, whose freckled face is now red and flushed. You instead follow your doctor’s voice. You feel sick to your stomach, and your face is now pale. Yosuke notices this as you pass by the gate and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Is something wrong?” He questions gently. “You look sick.”
You can’t bring yourself to respond, but you shake your head at him. He asks no more questions, but instead smiles at you and leads you back to your room. You stand in the center, awaiting the clang of the doors, but instead hear them close without locking. You turn around to see Yosuke standing there with one hand in his pants pocket, eyeing you with his olive-colored eyes. You look away and wrap your arms around yourself, tightly gripping your upper arms with each hand.

“What?” You demand of him, refusing to meet his gaze. “What is it that you want?”

“You seem distressed,” he responds bluntly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, please just leave,” you beg him. “I need to rest.”

Yosuke gives a gentle chuckle, finding your remark amusing. “We have enough time to mess around a little before then. I’ll let you sleep in just a little while.”

You turn unexpectedly, blushing as he walks toward you. You press your back against the wall, avoiding his touch as he reaches toward you.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything in my bedroom!” You remind him sharply, your eyes narrowing. “You promised, didn’t you?!”

Yosuke pins one of his hands onto the wall and leans in toward you.
“I said I’d do so only If you wanted me to, my dear,” he coos, gazing deeply into your eyes with amusement as he watches your face turn red and your body recoil as much as it can from him. “I said nothing about using you any other time. Your bedroom is special. It’s accessible to me. You are exclusive to me.”

“I’ve already been abused today, I’m not in the mood for this!” You shoot out at him, keeping your eyes to the floor as you feel his face getting closer and closer to your cheek.

“I just want a little bit this time,” his gentle, deep voice reverberates into your ear and sends shivers down your spine. “Just take it. Do as I say and it will be over sooner.”

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces your head to the side while he sucks gently on your ear, licking the inside and making loud sucking, groaning, and slurping noises. You unfold your arms and try to push him away, but he presses his weight against you which forces both arms to fold in front of you, your palms pinned between your bodies and forced to caress his broad chest. You moan as he continues to lick your ear, balling your hands into fists and trying to shake your head to no avail as he keeps it locked firmly in place with his strong, warm grasp. You feel your knees buckling as your arousal grows, but you continue to try fighting it. You don’t want to give into him, you want to listen to Eight’s advice and continue to resist. But…

You feel Yosuke’s hand release your chin, and hear him as he begins to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Your face becomes flushed and red as you feel him pull out his cock and rub it against your crotch through your dress. He moans as he lets his tongue out of your ear, and when you try to point your head up to avoid his gaze and instead stare at the ceiling, he pushes his warm mouth onto yours, his lips soft and warm as he forces himself upon you. He begins to grind against your body, kissing you passionately as he thrusts against you. He grabs your thighs and pulls you up so that your legs are dangling in the air. He doesn’t try to support you, so you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist and shoot your arms around his neck to keep from falling. He grins as he feels your limbs around his body, knowing that he has you where he wants you.

You feel his tongue press deeply inside your mouth, licking your tongue gently but assertively, wrapping around you with warmth and wetness. He continues to pump against your labia and clit, moaning in pleasure with each thrust. The sensation of it in this position leaves you utterly dizzy, blushing hard and almost wanting to be penetrated. As if answering your wishes, he quickly takes a hand off one thigh to try moving your underwear aside, forcing you to use your own muscle strength to cling onto him. Once you’re open, he slides himself into you, your juices dripping onto your bedroom floor as your body takes him in. You want to resist him, but he has you pinned, and you’re in no position to let go of him in fear of falling. He has you where he wants you, and you realize this as you are unable to do anything but cling to him desperately. You try to moan in protest, but this only arouses him more as you feel him thrust harder into you. Your muscles feel weakened from this morning’s assault coupled with the game you played with Nine. You wish she or any of the others could come help you now, but you know you’re locked in your bedroom with your doctor, helpless as he pounds your pussy with raw, utterly unstoppable power and impressive stamina.

You feel Yosuke’s hot breath as he forces his kisses onto you and exhales hard through his nose, panting in pleasure with each loud, slapping pump of your sopping wet pussy. You tighten your grip as your body begins to warm up. You feel yourself growing weak, but know you have to keep up your strength to avoid falling. Yosuke continues to thrust in and out of you with loud grunts and hot breath, his hands squeezing your thighs from under your bent legs, his grip strong and hot. He begins to drip with sweat again as he rapes you, and you feel yourself perspiring as well as your entire body radiates hotly with pleasure.

You moan and groan with Yosuke’s mouth still keeping your noises muffled, and in response you feel him laughing a throated laugh, the sound vibrating against your lips as his amusement at your helplessness pierces you.

Very soon, he detaches himself from your mouth and whispers into your ear with grunting, panting breaths.

“I’m almost there. Get ready.”

He quickens his pace with fierce grunting, and you throw your head back and begin to cry loudly in response. Your wails and moans are no longer muffled, so your piercing shriek as Yosuke finally comes inside of your pussy echoes loudly on the walls of your rosy bedroom. You feel your body dripping with wetness from the both of you, and Yosuke grins at your expressive face as you are overcome with pleasure. He gives you a few more pumps before he’s done coming, and soon he lets you fall gently back onto the floor. You feel weak, so your knees collapse from under you and you fall to the floor, only catching yourself with your hands. You begin to pant as you recover from your pleasure, and you see that your gown is now wet and dirty.

Yosuke does not give you a chance to rest, kneeling down to grab your arm and gently cooing into your ear,

“Just a little more, my pet.”

He forces you to stand and swoops you up in his arms, carrying you the way he did when you first awoke in this facility. You half expect him to take you to your rosy bed like some kind of princess, but instead, he lays you down on your desk, pulling it away from the wall so that you are forced to sprawl out on it. It’s wide enough to accommodate most of your body, but your lower half bends against it and hangs off the side.

You try to get up, but Yosuke puts his weight on you to stop you. He grabs your arms and holds them together behind your back, and you suddenly feel him tying his belt around your wrists to keep you from fighting him. You arch your back to try to sit up, but he leans against you more to keep you pinned, his face right up against your left ear as he binds you. He gives the side of your head a few gentle, darling kisses as he forces your wrists together with his belt. You want to cry out, but the weight of Yosuke on top of you makes you unable to breathe in heavily enough to do so.

Once your wrists are perfectly bound, Yosuke pulls back and grabs hold of your waist.

“Stay still,” he commands. You can almost hear the devilish smile in his voice. You feel him separate your labia with two fingers, exposing your vagina which is still creamy with his cum. He gently inserts the tip of his cock into you, eventually pushing through into your pussy, all the way in until his crotch is up against you. Then, he begins to thrust again, the sopping, slapping noises even louder now that both of you are wet with bodily fluids. You feel his grip around your waist tighten as he begins grunting again, thrusting more and more into your body. You want to cry in horror at being reminded of the man doing the same to you earlier, using a similar position. But somehow, this is different, and the cock inside you is more familiar and filling.

You begin to gasp with each pump, feeling Yosuke’s cock buried deep inside of you and pumping through the walls of your pussy with raw force. Even with your body dripping, you still feel a tightness around him, and you moan with pleasure as you feel your clit rubbing against the desk with each pound. The vibrations of the desk as it moves about adds to your sensation, its surface cold which feels pleasurable. Your eyes begin to lose focus as you feel yourself wanting more and more from Yosuke’s body, a begging voice almost escaping from your lips. You try to hold back, but let out a loud and pleasured yelp as Yosuke begins to thrust harder and harder. With each thrust, he wiggles his cock around inside you just slightly, rubbing his crotch against your ass and pussy and driving you wild. He does this a few more times before resuming his regular, rhythmic pumping, and you can feel his thick, warm member starting to pulse with excitement.

Yosuke leans forward, pressing his weight upon you yet again. As he moves into your ear, he chuckles loudly between grunts, catching sight of your almost crossed eyes and open, now-drooling mouth.

“I’m going to come again, my dear. Take it all like a good girl.”

He grunts more and more into your ear as he pumps faster and faster into you. Your fists clench as you feel your body succumbing to his pounding yet again, and you let out fast gasping pants and squeals as you feel your tits and clit rubbing against the cold desk surface. You feel Yosuke’s thick cock spreading it’s warmth deep into you with each powerful thrust, and soon find yourself ready to come. In moments, you begin to moan loudly with ecstasy, feeling your doctor ejaculating into you, his semen flowing into your pussy with ease. He comes and comes, thrusting more and more until he is finally finished pumping you with his seed.

The both of you pant as your climaxes come to an end, with him straddling you still and his arms pressed against either side of you on the ends of your desk. Still catching his breath, he leans into your check and kisses it with immense force, letting out a loud exhale as his breath is pushed out of his nose.

“You’re the best doll I’ve ever had,” he coos breathily, giving you another forceful kiss. “I’m never ever going to let you go, my pet. You’re mine, always.”

You want to pass out, but he stops you, pulling out of you slowly and turning you over on the desk. He stops for a moment to examine your body, dripping with cum and other juices. Your thighs and pussy are practically glazed over, glistening with both of your bodily fluids.

Pleased with his work, Yosuke smiles, then forcing you to look into his alluring olive eyes as you’re turned up toward him. Your knees are bent over the desk, and your legs slightly open after your assault. The cool air feels good on your body after all the warmth.

You don’t have any more strength to stop Yosuke from keeping your head in place, so you stare glossily back at him while still catching your breath, your chest rising and falling slowly with each mouthy pant. Gently laughing through his nostrils and with an endearing but sly smirk, he wipes your saliva from your mouth and rubs your lips with his thumb.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” he softly tells you, using his other hand to run his warm fingers through your hair. “When I saw you in the shower today, breathless, scared, I almost wanted to take you right there and then. You look so beautiful when you’re like that. Practically picturesque.”

He takes his hand and runs it along your cheek.

“Even now, I want more and more of your body. But it’s getting late. You’ll need your rest.”

He begins to pet your head.

“I’m glad I have you, my darling.”

You weakly shake your head, your senses coming back to you now that your pleasure has subsided, but Yosuke ignores this, and you are unable to stop his hands from caressing you. He instead continues to smile and look lovingly into your eyes. As your eyelids droop and your gaze wanders, he leans in to give you one last warm kiss before you succumb to your exhaustion.

Chapter 7: Rest Three - Day Off

Your eyes flutter open, and your lips are parched of thirst. Your limbs feel sore and sting a bit, especially the area between your thighs and trunk. You remember slowly what happened to you last night, and you suddenly feel nauseous again.

You notice as you move your eyes upward that you’re in your examination room, but your wrists are thankfully free. You feel something glide across your legs, catching you by surprise. You promptly jolt up from your pillow in alarm, half-expecting to see some perverted maniac with whips and collars and all other sorts of contraptions. But instead, you only see your perverted doctor, with a bottle of water in his hands. He’s seated on his stool, leaning onto his knees and staring intently at you with a kind smile.

As you look down over your blanketed lap, you see a plate of food. It looks to be some kind of fancy egg dish, but you’re not familiar with it.

“Why are you giving me this here?” You muster up a rather raspy voice, your lips and throat still extremely parched. “Do the others get breakfast in bed?”

“It’s not quite breakfast time,” Yosuke answers, handing you the bottle of water as he hears the dryness in your throat. “Here.”

As you hesitantly take the bottle, you feel your upper arm sting slightly, the sore sensation even stronger in it than you felt when you awoke. Though, it’s stronger in that arm than it is in the other, which you find odd.

“We do this on occasion, if we need to,” he explains. “Some of our guests need to stay in bed for a while under certain circumstances, so their meals are brought to them. In your case, you’ve been asleep for almost twelve hours.” Your doctor chuckles. “I found out that you did quite a lot yesterday in addition to what I planned for you, so I figured I’d allow you to rest. I cancelled your visit for today so that I could give your body a quick examination”

You press your knees together and wince. You don’t know if he’s done anything other than what he is saying he did, but you don’t put it past him after last night. However, he tries to reassure you,

“I had to take off your clothes, but I did only examine your body and run a few tests.” He adjusts his glasses. “You have just a bit of trauma to your genitals, but nothing that can’t clear up fairly quickly. You’ve been strangely holding up quite well, all things considered. And whether the trauma is from me or your earlier visitors, I don’t know, but I figured it would be good to let you rest for today, since you’re still very new to this and I don’t want to hurt you to a point that you’re completely unusable. Some of our virgin and inexperienced guests are very sensitive to this kind of treatment.”

Hearing this makes you almost angry. Trauma? Yeah, getting pounded without your consent will probably do that to you. Quietly and fuming, you sip your water as your doctor continues to explain things to you.

“I took the liberty of cleaning you up last night before tucking you in,” Yosuke smiles at the memory. “You seemed absolutely lifeless after our playtime. I figured I owed it to you, since I wouldn’t want you to have to sleep in filth. Others, though, have let their patients do it a few times. I personally like things clean. It makes sullying them much more satisfying.”

You willingly ignore his comments and take a chunk of the egg dish on your fork, sniffing it before you put it to your lips. It has a very flavorful aroma, one with a variety of spices you can’t quite pinpoint. When you put the food against your tongue, it’s warm and fluffy, and tastes absolutely delectable. You almost find yourself enjoying it, but feeling Yosuke’s glaring eyes watching you from the side puts you off of the experience.

“I’ve also given you a booster shot, since you needed one,” he goes on. You realize that this explains the extra soreness in your arm, but you also realize that he’s neglected to tell you what kind of shot, and for what. You shudder to think of your doctor inserting needles into your body while you’re unconscious. On cue to this thought, Yosuke adds,

“I suppose while we’re on the subject, I should tell you that I have to give you a special injection every few weeks.”

“For what?”

“That’s not important for you to know. You won’t be awake for it anyway. Rather, you shouldn’t, or else it’s going to hurt. I just thought you might like to know, so that you’re not scared when you feel the effects of the drug afterward. You might feel as loopy and drained as you did when you first arrived, but there's a slight hallucinatory side effect that can affect you for a little while afterward. Some of our guests have had night terrors or day visions, so we want you to be prepared for it in case it happens.”

His description sends shivers down your spine, but you want to shake the thought out of your mind. Instead, your thoughts turn to the conversation from your first day.

“Why don’t you give us shots or pills or something so that we don’t get pregnant?” You question Yosuke suddenly. “You like to come inside of us so much, you might as well.”

“We don’t find it as fun if there isn’t a slight risk of your impregnation,” Yosuke responds without skipping a beat. His voice is unconcerned, his delivery hauntingly sincere. “I said there’s a high chance of sterility with the drugs we’ve given you, but pumping you with semen and acting as though you might actually carry our seed is euphoric for some of us. But we don’t precisely have use for guests who actually do get pregnant.”

You widen your eyes a bit, but remain fixed on your plate. You don’t want to give your doctor the satisfaction of a horrified look. You wonder if he means that pregnant girls get killed, but you don’t think he’ll give you an answer if you ask. You also wonder whether he’s telling you too much, or just enough to keep you afraid of him. But then, if what he's saying is true, if you or any other girl has a risk of pregnancy, doesn’t that mean that they’re going to die no matter what? Die regardless of whether or not they comply with the facility’s disturbed rules?

You feel sick to your stomach at the thought. You hope deeply that pregnant girls are just moved elsewhere, that perhaps Yosuke means that they aren’t of use in this particular section of the facility. There are likely people here who would still have girls even after a pregnancy. Perhaps even people who would have girls because they’re—

You suddenly drop your fork in disgust at the thought, surprising your doctor who was enjoying the quiet.

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean ‘are you alright’?!” You lash out, your voice laced with fury. “You’re telling me these things that I can’t accept, that are disgusting and awful to me! You’ve told me that if I try to leave, I’ll die. So if I stay here and somehow end up pregnant, then what? Do I die then anyway? Am I just fucked no matter what?”

Yosuke smiles.

“We’ll take care of you,” he responds simply. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“I don’t know how much I can believe what you say,” you scowl, clenching your fist. “I don’t trust you. I don’t want to.”

Your voice almost hesitates as you say this, frustrating you further.

“You can do and feel as you like, my dear, so long as it’s within our walls,” your doctor tells you. “And even if you hate me, you still belong to me. You can either get nice and comfortable with my having my way with you, or you can fight me all the way to your grave. It’s up to you, but I’m still going to get what I want no matter what.”

He rises, leaning in and kissing you on the top of your head quickly, not giving you the chance to shove him away or react otherwise.

“Finish eating, my pet, so that I can take you to the gate. I have work to do today.”

You look away from him, waiting until he has left the room to lean back into your pillow and sigh. As you lie flat and stare at the now-familiar white ceiling, you wonder whether living here at the cost of your body is even worth it. Is death so bad an alternative? But you don’t necessarily like the idea of dying all too much to readily face it. For as stubborn as you are, you admit that you’re weak in many ways. You don’t do well with pain or discomfort, and you’re unsure that you ever will. You begin to ask yourself whether others were brave enough to actually escape on their own terms.

Rather than mull things over for too much longer, you finish your food and leave your plate on your bed, going outside to join an eagerly awaiting Yosuke so that he can guide you to your designated hallway. You notice your patient chart in his hands on the clipboard he used before, and watch him as he drops it by the open records office as he did before. You try to get closer to see the file, but Yosuke catches you from the corner of his eye and smiles, playfully rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand to get you to stop and recoil from him. Again, he knocks on the door frame of the office, and the white gate before you opens with a loud metal groan. You step inside without being told and turn to watch Yosuke as the gate clanks shut. He gives you a knowing smirk before walking off, rounding the corner and completely disappearing.

You wrap your arms around yourself again and exhale, moving on through the hallway. You catch a glimpse of Two exiting one of the double doors, and as you lock eyes, your heart jumps. You avert your gaze and try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” he tells you, his face directly in front of yours. “Please, It’s really important.”

You try to shake him off, but his grip is strong around your sore arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” You exclaim in frustration, trying to pull away. “Let go of me!”

“I can explain it to you if you’ll just listen to me, please!” The red-haired young man responds with an almost hushed but urgent tone. “We don’t have to talk about it again after this, alright? Just hear me out.”

Finally, he lets you go, and you stumble backward at the unexpected move since your’e still pulling away. Frustrated, you scowl at him.

“Fine, so talk.”

“Not here,” he refuses you with a shake of his head. “I know you might not want to go back there, but the garden is the most secluded place here. We can talk without a problem in there.”

You hesitate, but Two seems insistent and is trying to come off as trustworthy. You aren’t sure whether to trust him, but know he won’t stop trying to explain himself if you try to leave. So, you nod and hesitantly follow him back into the gardens. Again, the scenery is beautiful and pleasant, bright and cheery. The image of it is somewhat tainted for you after what you witnessed yesterday, but you try to push your feelings aside as you enter the next conjoining room where nobody else is around.

“She…she’s not here, is she?” You wonder aloud, looking over to where you had seen her before. Two shakes his head.

“She’s busy,” is all he says. You understand what he means and bite your lip uncomfortably. Two motions for you to sit on the ground with him, a request which you hesitantly oblige. You say nothing, so he speaks up instead.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by what you saw, but I need you to keep it between us,” he asks of you. “Nobody else here knows about it. Not even the doctors know about it. I don’t do what I do because I’m taking advantage of her or because I like it. She wants me to.”

You look at him almost in angry disbelief, but he raises his hands to stop you from speaking.

“Just listen to me!” He pleads. “Three, she’s really close to me. She’s someone I care about, and she’s someone that I love. I want her to be happy, and she wants to be happy. She hates it here, doesn’t wanna talk about anything that goes on. She’ll avoid, ignore, or leave a conversation the moment anyone starts to bring it up. But with me, she’s more open. She trusts me, and I trust her.”

He looks down.

“She’s my sister, and I’d do anything for her. She’s so wrapped up in the idea of being in love and having someone to love her that she wants me to play that role because I’m the closest person she has that can. I didn’t want to do it at first, but she seemed so much happier after I started to. She smiles so much more when she has control of who it is that loves her and takes care of her. It’s…something you wouldn’t understand if you don’t have a sibling. Y’know, someone who you’re that close to. She’s frail, and I have to take good care of her because I know her better than anyone here and I’m the only one who can.”

You look away, unsure of what to think. You almost feel as though the words coming out of his mouth aren’t even real, like you’re imagining them.

“I trust people like Cyrus, but I couldn’t let even someone like him do what I’m doing for my sister,” Two continues. “It has to be me. I know how to make her happy, and if I keep making her happy, she doesn’t have to suffer so much. She feels better when I’m the one who makes her feel good. Any other person she’s forced to take is hellish for her.”

He reaches over to rest a hand on your upper arm, staring into your eyes with sincerity.

“Please understand—I have to do this for her. I’m not taking advantage of anyone and I only do it when she asks. Nobody else has found out about this, so I need you to keep quiet. Can you do that? Do you understand?”

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to emotionally accept this as a fact. You don’t think you ever accepted the idea of two siblings in arms, but you suppose you can’t stop it from happening even if you do think it's uncanny.

“I don’t like it,” you assert your position on the subject bluntly, staring back into Two’s hopeful, desperate hazel eyes. “…But I want to respect you as someone who’s been victimized by everyone here. The both of you. I can’t approve of what you do. I don’t think I ever will. But, I…suppose your reasons make some kind of sense.”

You almost don’t believe yourself as you say this, but try as best you can to be supportive, despite the twisted concept.

“This place is bound to force you into some awful positions, so that’s what I’ll accept.”

“I…promise we’ll be more careful in the future,” Two tries to make you feel better. “We usually make it clear when we want our space, so people don’t usually follow us when she says she wants to go somewhere and has me tag along with her.”

You wince a bit. “You did it the other day, didn’t you?”

Two hesitates to answer, but chooses to nod solemnly.

“She started to feel bad, so I helped her. “

You shake your head disapprovingly, but promise him that you won’t tell anyone and that you’ll try to remain blissfully unaware to everything. You don’t know whether you can look at your friend the same, but want to put your trust in him as you have some of the others.

“You wouldn’t do that to anyone here without their consent, would you?” You have to know. Two shakes his head.

“I’m not like the doctors,” he promises. “I take care of my sister. I wouldn’t force anyone to do what I do or even ask, nor would I do what I do to anyone else but Three. I treat everyone like a good friend. I hope that you can understand that, at least.”

“I guess.”

Silence befalls you both, and Two is the first to rise. He flashes you a smile, as if nothing were wrong.

“Well, I’ll see you around, ‘kay? I’m going to be in the music room while I wait for Three to come back, so, uh…maybe avoid it for today, in case…y’know…”

You nod, watching Two as he rounds a bush to exit the second area of the garden. You almost want to believe none of this has just been said, but you figure it best not to give yourself time to think hard on it. You rise and make your way out of the gardens, moving into the empty hallway. You turn your head toward the white gate, looking on at the opposite hallway which is blocked off by a set of windowless double doors. You guess that it’s there to separate this group from others, and you start to think about how many people might actually be down here. Violet had theorized no more than a few groups, but you don’t think anyone actually knows.

You continue on, thinking about what it is you might like to do on your supposed “day off”. Your body is still sore (including your crotch, you realize). So, you skip out on checking the gym to see if Lav is there. Since the associated numbers still confuse you somewhat, you find it easier to think of her by her color-associated name, but promise yourself to refer to her in person by her preferred name. You admire her for taking charge of it and making it hers, but you also get confused very easily.

You again enter the rec room, blinded by the sudden light that pierces your eyes which had just accustomed themselves to the dim hallway. You half expect everyone to be on the couch again, but instead you only see Cyrus, resting his temples in his hands while leaning back on the couch Lav had been laying on the first day you arrived. Your mind wanders to Yosuke’s mention about regular injections, and you wonder if perhaps that’s why she’d been laying down that day.

As you gaze upon Cyrus, you almost want to sit with him and ask him all your questions, but you’re afraid to be a bother. He looks frustrated, focused. His eyes are shut tight, and you wonder if he’s okay. Rather than ask, you think it best to turn around and leave. However, he calls out to you.

“You don’t have to go,” he says. He opens his eyes and looks at you, tired with dark circles under his eyes, but inviting otherwise. “I was just resting up a bit. I had a bit of a rough time today.”

“Then you should rest,” you tell him, refusing his offer. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“it’s no trouble,” Cyrus insists, crossing his legs on the couch and leaning forward. “All we have is each other to talk to anyway. Most everyone else is busy today.”

You approach him, and he pats the couch seat next to him, motioning for you to sit down. Quietly, you do so.

“I haven’t seen you all day. You holding up okay?” He questions, leaning in over his folded legs, hunched over.

“I guess better than before, but that’s mainly because I haven’t been, um…seen today,” you answer him honestly. “My doctor, he let me sleep in, so he says. I was kind of put through a lot yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cyrus looks down. “It is exhausting sometimes. It’s perfectly normal for them to run you ragged on certain days, depending on how they’re feeling. I’ve had a few days where I couldn’t really sit down, actually.”

“I’m..sorry,” you blush. You realize it’s easier to talk to someone of your own sex than someone not, so you find this topic awkward coming from him. Cyrus senses this as he watches your face grow red and your gaze shift around, so he changes the subject to make it easier for you.

“Have you been talking with everyone else here? Getting to know them and all?”

You nod, silently grateful for his understanding nature. “I got to talk with Five and Violet a lot yesterday. I even met Eight and Nine. I played basketball with her, but I lost, obviously.”

“Did you?” He looks almost surprised. “Doesn’t she play nude?”

You laugh. “Yeah, she does. She was pretty nice, at least. I can’t really say the same about Eight.”

“Ah…Eight’s a bit of a handful,” Cyrus crosses his arms. “He barely talks, but when he does, he’s extremely forward and won’t shut up about what he thinks. He’s not the type who’s afraid to hurt people’s feelings.”

“I figured,” you pout. “He was kind of a jerk to me yesterday, and he insulted Blue pretty hard. But he did give me some advice, which I guess isn’t wrong.”

“Let me guess, ‘don’t trust any doctors’?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus exhales.

“It’s good advice. Probably the only good advice he’ll give you. I suggest you ignore him otherwise, or avoid certain topics around him. Everyone here has made the mistake of getting him riled up by talking about certain things that make him especially angry. I think of him as someone who’s as bitter as Violet, but she’s a lot nicer than he is once you really get to know her. A bit clingy, even, but nice.”

“He said that he knew my doctor,” you tell Cyrus. “He seemed really bitter about him. I can’t say I don’t understand why.”

“Which doctor?”

“Yosuke Chisaka.”

Cyrus bites his thumb. “I met him once. He didn’t like me, physically speaking, but I think I was just one of a few people he used briefly on his path to discover what would scratch his particular itch. I hardly remember him though. The guy with green eyes and dark hair, right?”

You nod. “He frustrates me. I don’t know if I’m really that lucky to have him compared to other doctors, but he tells me that I am. Regardless of anything he tries to do to accommodate me, though, he’s still a huge creep.”

“They all are, really,” Cyrus shrugs. “My doctor’s a bit of a major pervert herself. She’s a whispy looking woman, but she’s kind of crazy around other people. She doesn’t really know how to behave like a normal person sometimes, and she has a really high sex drive.”

“Must be nice to not worry about getting pregnant,” you mutter, not realizing that you’ve said it aloud. You widen your eyes and cover your mouth with embarrassment. “I’m sorry!”

Cyrus looks down but smiles slightly.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you. “I know it’s pretty unfair for you. I’d be mad if I were you too.”

“Do...the female doctors get pregnant?”

“No,” Cyrus responds with bluntness. “They’re not allowed to, even though a few of them have impregnation fantasies and force some of us to…you know. They like to be dominated sometimes, but the facility forbids them from having children. Every female is sterile and has agreed to be. The men aren’t, though. At least I don’t think they are. They’ve never told me anything about it, but I’ve heard things slip out of certain doctor’s mouths here and there. It's kind of how I learn things.”

“That’s not really fair, is it? It’s so…backwards.”

“Did you really expect a place full of literal psycho perverts to be progressive?” Cyrus looks at you almost in disbelief. You give him a shrug as if to say “I suppose not”.

You lower your hand then and sigh heavily as silence comes between you two. You pause for a moment before speaking again, staring at the floor before your feet.

“Yosuke told me that the pregnant girls don’t have a use here,” you admit. “Do you think they’re killed?”

Cyrus winces, and you suddenly remember his reaction to the group’s discussion on the topic before, where he reacted just as negatively. You almost want to apologize to the ghostly-looking boy, but he shakes his head and speaks up before you can.

“I don’t think that’s the case. I’d prefer not to believe it. But even I have no idea.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looks up at you with his aqua blue eyes and shakes his head. “I can’t pretend what I’ve experienced happen didn’t happen. But it’s not your fault for not knowing anything. You don’t have to worry about offending me. I know you have a lot of questions, and I’m more than happy to help you if you need. Since I’ve been here the longest, I’ve pretty much had to do this for everyone."

He crosses his arms and leans back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “But I’m not ready to talk about it right now. I think i might lie down soon, actually."

"You didn't have to call me over if you needed the rest," you tell Cyrus, feeling a bit guilty about interrupting him. However, he shakes his head.

"I wanted to talk to you," he admits, making you blush a little. Cyrus presses against his temples again as his eyes begin to shut. You raise a hand toward him with worry, but he shakes his own hand back and forth to signal you not to fuss.

"Sorry, my head’s still pounding from earlier. My doctor had me paired with someone today who knocked me around quite a bit.”

You eye the boy up and down, confused. There are no apparent bruises or signs of trauma on him, so you’re unsure what he means.

“You don’t…seem like you’ve been,” you admit in your examination of him. You wonder if it was rude of you to say, but Cyrus doesn’t seem to react to your comment in a positive or negative way. Instead, the young man silently lifts up a patch of his hair, and underneath its full, dark exterior you can see blotches of red and brown on his scalp. The wounds are fresh enough to still be saturated in color, but is not so fresh that they look raw and scraped. Instead, his scalp just looks bruised and splotchy. It contrasts with the blue of his clothes and the pale, almost-white skin around the area.

“He hit me pretty hard,” Cyrus breaks the silence of your shock. “I was knocked out for a little while, but my doctor helped patch me back up. I don’t know if he did anything to me while I was asleep, but I can only assume so, since I felt a little pain around other parts of my lower body after I woke up.”

“I’m…so sorry,” you look away, grimacing. “That must have been bad.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” the boy shrugs, but says nothing more on the matter. You feel strange about his casual attitude about it, but try to remind yourself of his experience here. You remain silent, biting your lip and unsure of what else to say to him. However, Cyrus turns to you and puts his hand over yours, trying to comfort you. It’s warm, much to your surprise. You were half expecting his body to be cold like the rest of his features.

“If your doctor lets it, it’s going to get bad,” he tells you point blank. “So you’ll have to be ready in the case that it is. If pain ever does come, whether it’s accidental or on purpose, find something to concentrate on. A phrase, a countdown, a feature of the room, something. You might get lucky and never have to get doctors who hurt you, you might not. But we’re all sort of a family here, so we’ll listen to you and help you if you need us to. Okay?”

“You sound like Five,” you almost laugh, but start to tremble at the thought of being beaten during sex. You can only hope that Yosuke won’t be so cruel as to give you violent doctors, that he does good on his promise to “take care” of you. You acknowledge, though, that pain likely comes with the territory of regular sex. You probably can’t take being pounded every day from now on without at least some kind of wear, and you doubt Yosuke’s going to give you rest days frequently or in succession if he’s that incessant about you being used, whether by him or anyone else. He seems to want your body to be trained to take anything at any time. He’s acted before as though he’s trying to take things slow with you, but you don’t consider anything you’ve been put through in just a few days’ time as “slow”.

Your conversation with Cyrus ends on this note, and you give him a chance to rest after his signal about wanting to. For the rest of the day, you go into the library and peruse the books there. The area has white walls and a white ceiling, but the floor is a deep, almost royal blue, like Cyrus’ clothes. The bookshelves are grey and metallic, and are all organized by author. In each book you pick up, the dates have been scratched out, or pages have been torn away. This frustrates you, but you understand that this has likely been done to keep you unable to have a sense of time. The only time you have to really go off of is based on the schedule the facility gives to you. Time to eat, time to fuck, time to socialize, time to sleep…

You pass by a row of nature books, wincing as you remember the sight of the twins from yesterday. You wish for their relationship not to be real, but you know you can’t avoid the reality that it is. Acting strangely toward Two and Three in front of everyone else hereafter might jeopardize what they’re doing. Would that really be so bad, you wonder? Would the others understand like you have to? You also consider the danger of the doctors finding out about this and getting some sick pleasure off of forced incest, or using the twins against each other as leverage to get what they want out of their bodies. The thought makes you shudder, and you completely avoid all the nature books.

You catch sight of Eight in the library with you, somewhere at a grey metal table with a stack of books beside him. He glances up at you just once, but he seems unhappy to see you. He promptly returns to his story, ignoring you entirely from then on. You end up picking up an easy-read storybook likely meant for younger teens about a girl getting lost in a forest full of mythical creatures and going on a grand adventure to help them save their land from a villainous group. You don’t remember if you liked this kind of literature before you came to the facility, but you don’t dislike it now.

Eventually, you are summoned back to the white gate in the hallway for bed, as the gentle bell from before goes off on the intercom. You meet again with Yosuke, answering him bluntly about your book when he asks what you’ve done for the day, but not mentioning any of your discussion with Cyrus. As he escorts you to your room, he tells you,

“Tomorrow, you should be well enough to be played with again. I’ll have someone ready for you by the time you wake up.”

You know this to be true, but the words still sting you. Even though you’ve been toyed with thrice already, and even then twice by your doctor, you still don’t feel accustomed to the motion of things around here.

“Goodnight, my pet,” your handsome caretaker says his goodbye as you step into your familiar rosy room. The desk he forced you on is back in its original position, clean and looking as though it had never been used at all.

You find yourself relieved that Yosuke doesn’t try to enter your room again as he locks you in, but you dread whatever is going to come tomorrow.

Chapter 8: Visit Three - Latex

You don’t know when you finally fell asleep. Throughout the night and as the light in your room dimmed, you remember struggling to sleep peacefully and practically almost blinking heavily before you arrived here.

As your eyes begin to flutter open yet again, you’re met with the familiar bright lights of your examination room, and you come to terms with this fact more quickly than before. You know you’ve been moved again, and you know you’re going to endure something weird or awful or whatever else that you don’t want.

Yet again, you feel your wrists are restricted, but your restraints are far more solid than previous ones. They aren’t ropey or soft, but hard and smooth. Your bed is again tilted at an angle, but is lower than previous visits, with you sitting up just enough to see the door before you, but not entirely enough to be completely sitting up either. Your wrists aren’t held to the metal bedframe with anything in particular, but they are instead seemingly locked in place by something in between both wrists, keeping them spread apart. Your arms are extended upward above your head, and it’s whatever thing that’s in between your wrists that’s chained to the bed instead. You hear a metallic clinking sound as you try to pull your arms forward, and as you look up, you see a black metal bar with two cuffs attached at the ends that are binding your wrists and keeping your arms up.

As your senses clear up, you catch whiff of as strange, rubbery, and chemical smell, and you can hear a crinkling sound from somewhere behind you as whoever is in the room with you shuffles about. You don’t think your brief struggling has gone unnoticed, but this person appears not to be acknowledging you just yet for reasons you don’t know.

As you almost cough from the suddenly strong material odor, you feel something spherical in your mouth, rubbery and chewable, but not easy to bite off. It’s perched tightly in your maw, keeping it agape. A leather strap seems to surround your head, keeping the gag in place. It’s tight, and its grasp around you keeps the thing in your mouth from shuffling about. You dislike the feeling of this contraption as you feel your jaw tightening, but you know you can’t do anything to help it.

You find that you can’t quite move your legs either, with something binding them as well. You struggle to move your head down with your arms above you, but when you are able to manage it, you see one of several things that causes you alarm. First, you are wearing a different article of clothing—or rather it’s less conventional than something like a silky or cotton gown. This is some kind of sleek material, and you realize then that you’re wearing latex. It’s a shiny, smooth, rose color, a little more saturated than the rose of your usual gown. The dress has no sleeves that you can feel and is tight on your chest and hips, but it spreads around from there over your pubic region delicately, with waves and dips caressing your upper thighs. The rest of your legs are otherwise bare, open to the cold air of the room. Your ankles, it seems, are bound by what looks like black tape, but it doesn’t seem to be duct tape because it doesn’t hurt you as you try to wriggle around. It’s wrapped tightly, but feels smooth along your skin.

With each movement, you can feel a strange sensation in your waist and pelvic region, and you come to realize that you’re wearing a different kind of underwear as well. It's snug, but it somehow feels good wrapped around your body. You assume that you’re wearing some kind of latex underwear, but it’s not loose like your dress. It presses against you, enveloping the more sensitive areas of your lower body and placing some pressure against them.

Beneath you, your bed is covered with a thin latex sheet, and each movement you make causes it to crinkle and lightly squeak as it rubs against the latex on your body. You aren’t sure what to make of this ensemble, but it feels less like clothes and more like another layer of skin that is bonded with your own, yet keeping you confined and wrapped like a present. Your mind flashes briefly to your encounter with the other strange doctors from before, who’d wrapped you up in bows before violently thrusting into you. It makes you wince, and you only hope that this person in the room with you isn’t going to be as rough.

You feel yourself getting wet as you feel the tightness of the latex around your body, coupled with the hard binding of your wrists and the gag in your mouth. The way the material rubs against you, coupled with the sensation of being gagged and bound, is exciting you, and you can’t bring yourself to understand why.

Whoever it is in the room with you is suddenly heard shuffling past your head, and you can see the fully covered latex figure of a man with broad shoulders and of a trim build standing to the left of you. His face is covered fully with latex, and you can’t make out anything fleshy other than through a few small, almost unnoticeable holes where his nose is. The thing is otherwise covering the entirety of his facial area, and you can hear him breathing through the holes in his suit with heaviness and concentration.

You see that the suit he has on is fully covering his entire body, from his head all the way down. His cock is slightly raised, but seems to be poking through the suit that seems especially made with an extension so that his penis is able to fit through and stick out. It looks disturbing to you, but he obviously seems to be enjoying it as his cock slowly becomes larger and larger, raising up as it becomes hard. It’s wet with some kind of clear lubricant, which you assume he had been putting on himself while he was behind you. You wonder how the man is able to see you through the suit, and whether he even can. You’re unfamiliar with whatever this is aside form the material it’s made from.

You half expect the man to start talking muffledly, but he says nothing, standing over you quietly with a raised latex cock as he examines your latex-bound frame with, you suppose, eagerness and delight. You feel uncomfortable being unable to read this man’s expression, unable to make a human connection with him. It feels cryptic, wrong, strange. Yet, you find yourself wiggling about as your arousal grows, and you still can’t understand why. You wonder if Five’s mention of drugs is true, and think that there’s a chance you’re only aroused because of some drug. Yes, that has to be it. You don’t want to believe you’re this unconventional and delighted by something so strange.

This latex stranger stands still as he raises his latex-covered hand to your cheek and runs his fingers gently down it, the strange touch of the slick material sending shivers down your entire body. Your press your knees together in response and look away from your visitor, but he continues to play with your face, rubbing your cheeks, lips, and chin with his smooth, shiny hand. As he does so, he gently bounces his cock up and down, the wrinkles in the latex around his shaft making a light noise as he does so. He produces no sound of moaning to indicate his pleasure at the act. You find yourself unable to gauge what he’s feeling or thinking, and are left in the dark as he continues to touch you and himself with eagerness.

You find yourself gasping a bit as he moves his hand down your chin and over your neck, gliding it smoothly down until he takes hold of your breast. Your latex visitor leans over and uses both of his hands now, grabbing both your latex-covered breasts and rubbing over them, spreading them around gently and slowly. You can feel the latex rubbing against your skin and your nipples, giving you even more excitement and pleasure. Your assailant begins to breathe harder through his mask, slowly and delightfully with each passing rub of your tits. You are afraid to look at him, knowing that he can see you through the mask even if you can’t tell how. You don’t want to imagine yourself meeting his gaze, but you know that he’s staring directly at you, watching for your every reaction.

You turn your head away and begin to breathe somewhat heavier through your mouth and nose as you hear his loud exhales and feel his almost rubbery fingers through the latex on your chest. Saliva begins to slowly drip out of your mouth as you fail to swallow it the way you normally would. You feel disgusting, but your visitor appears to find your mess erotic, as he breathes even heavier through his mask.

Your tits are rubbed for a good long while, and you find yourself dizzy with the sensation as you receive your latex massage. But soon, your visitor moves his hands away and walks downward toward your legs, where your knees are still clamped together. He rubs your thighs with his hands, moving his latex-covered digits and palms slowly up and down your skin with gentle care. While still rubbing with one hand, he then begins to lift up the skirt of your dress with the other, exposing your latex underwear. You feel his fingers rub up and down where your slit is, pressing the latex over your vulva against each part of it. You can feel clearly the rubbery sensation as the outline of his fingers traces every inch of your opening, He stops periodically to wiggle the area where your clit is, pressing the latex against it and almost grinding it against you. You jerk your hands forward again in response and almost arch your back, jumping suddenly at the strange sensation and gasping as you feel yourself jolt with excitement.

Your visitor continues to toy with your vulva, separating the lips of your labia and twiddling at your clit. Somehow the rubbery sensation, the sensitive and suggestive material, makes you feel even more excited than regular fleshy fingers had before. You tilt your head back in growing pleasure as a muffled moan escapes your gagged lips, the noise reverberating onto the ball between your teeth and back onto your tongue and cheeks. You instinctively pull your wrists around, but you again feel the restraints tightly against them.

Your assailant continues to rub at you, now masturbating over your bed and your body as he stares at you from behind his mask and uses his fingers to play with your cunt. You can feel your pussy getting wetter from behind the rubbery panties, causing it to feel slicker and slimier. You find yourself moving into the man’s latex fingers as he plays with you, and as you do so, he begins to quicken the jerking pace on his slick shaft while breathing even more intensely in response, evidently finding you reactions pleasurable. Soon, you see semen shoot out of the hole in his latex-covered cock and watch it drip down onto the smooth, shiny bed sheet beneath you. Your visitor finally makes a brief noise as you hear his muffled groans during his climax. His voice is deep and somewhat breathy.

You become almost upset when your visitor releases you and pulls away, leaving you wanting to be fulfilled now that you’ve gotten riled up. He waits a moment and stares at you while you wriggle around in your bondage, but then moves his hand over your ankles and begins to undo the tape around them with ease. The tape doesn’t hurt you, and in fact glides off without a problem at all. Within moments, your ankles are free, your legs completely bare and open.

The latex man moves and lifts his leg, swinging it over yours and climbing onto the bed and over your body. The material on his suit and the bed rubbing together produces a loud, echoing crinkling noise, and you hear your visitor’s breaths from behind his mask deepen as he towers over you, his penis still utterly erect and the residue of his cum from earlier still dripping from the hole in his suit.
He presses his rubbery cock up against you now, beginning to moan between breaths as he grinds slowly against your cunt. He’s on his knees while he does this, with one hand pressed on the side next to your shoulder to steady himself on the bed, and the other grabbing your breast again and jiggling it around more forcefully than before. All you can hear is groaning and crinkling, with an occasional vibrating moan escaping from your gagged mouth. You bite down on the ball between your teeth as you feel an intense lust welling up inside you. Every rub of the man’s cock along your covered slit brings you further into a state of ecstasy. You continue to moan wildly, despite not even been penetrated yet. You wonder if this is wrong, but your body refuses to let you think about it for too long.
The latex-covered man soon unzips your underwear, which you hadn’t realized even had a zipper to begin with. You feel the release of your crotch as the zipper is pulled down from your pubic region all the way to your ass. He doesn’t lift you up to try unzipping it further, apparently satisfied with just your pussy being exposed to him.

You feel the cold air hit your body, making you aware of just how much of your juices you’ve been spilling as you feel it hit all over your crotch and around the uppermost portions of your inner thighs. Your visitor climbs further up until he’s just above you with his head facing yours. You can smell his hot breath through his suit, and mixed with the smell of the latex, it’s almost nauseating. However, the feeling of his breath itself adds to the mixture of sensations, and it almost coats you with desire as you feel the man’s latex-covered cock sleekly making its way into you. He keeps your lips separated with his rubbery fingers as he slides into your dripping hole. The sensation of the sleek material entering you is strange, different from that of a real, fleshy member. It glides even easier than any cock you’ve taken, and the strange, somewhat wrinkled yet sleek texture introduces your pussy to a brand new sensation that you almost immediately want to feel more of. You moan in pleasure as your assailant thrusts into you, his breaths sounding like rhythmic pants as he breathes heavily through his nostrils and tries to concentrate on pounding into you without so much as a word.

As he picks up his pace and rams his latex-covered crotch onto your clit and labia, you hear a loud slapping noise in addition to the crinkling of the latex. Wetness, scrunching, slapping, moaning, grunting, heavy breaths, all of them sounding together in a symphony of lust as you’re taken hostage and raped in your latex bed, though you wonder how much of it is even non-consensual when you’re this turned on. You begin to lose yourself entirely at the coupling of these sensations, as well as the feeling of your wrists being restrained and your arms held open. You pant and pant as your cunt is filled with shiny, wet latex, pounded over and over with raw dominance. A part of you imagines that it’s Yosuke fucking you from behind that latex mask, and the fantastical thought of the possibility that it’s him somehow drives you even wilder.

Soon, you feel yourself beginning to climax, but the man does not seem to have reached his just yet. You can’t stop yourself from grinding against him, and you soon come loudly, screaming through your gag which muffles your cries. You continue to buck your hips, riding your visitor’s cock while you have your orgasm. As you slow your pace, your latex-covered assailant pulls out of you, and he continues to jerk his shaft while hunched over you and staring straight into the direction of your now glazed-over face. He starts panting intensely from behind the mask, occasionally groaning deeply between strokes. He follows your orgasm not too long after, releasing a hot and somewhat milky stream of cum all over your latex-covered stomach and breasts. Though you’re wearing the dress, you can feel the warmth of his semen through the material, an almost numbing sensation. As your chest rises and falls, the cum drips down the sides of your chest and stomach and onto the bed.

Seemingly still unsatisfied, your assailant grabs you by the shoulder and waist and tosses you, causing your wrists to pull forward and the chain binding your restraint to the bed to clang and smoothly slide around, making a slew of metallic noises. Your visitor turns you over until you’re lying on your side, and once he’s satisfied with your position, he kneels on the bed, towering above you, straddling one leg while the other is on the outer side of his kneeling frame.

Forcefully, he lifts up your free leg and grips it tightly with his warm, latexy fingers, raising it above you to hold you open, completely exposing your cum-covered pussy. With his other hand, he guides his cock yet again into your cunt, pushing with force until he’s completely inside you. He begins to thrust against you while on his knees, only slightly hunched over but maintaining balance by holding onto you. You feel strained as your body is forced into such an unusual position, but despite the uncanniness of it, you begin to enjoy having your legs spread wide open while you’re pounded into at such an angle. You continue to moan as your ride begins, your saliva dribbling down your chin and neck, spilling onto the bed more and more as you groan, gasp, and pant over each thrust into you. In response, the towering dark figure above you grunts with pleasure, gasping between each pump of his cock.

You continue to be ridden by him, helpless to his sex as your whole body moves in rhythm with each hearty thrust. The room begins to smell of salty musk and rubbery latex, but you no longer find it nauseating. Pleasure is now overcoming you, enveloping every sense. You no longer want to fight back, and you begin to climax as you let yourself succumb to all the pleasurable sensations in your body.
Unlike before, the man reaches his climax simultaneously with yours, quickening his pace and letting out rapid, heavy nostril breaths and muffled, long moans. The two of you finally reach your orgasm together, with you squirting out and bucking with pleasure, and him spurting more and more of his cum into your already sullied cunt. He pumps more and more until he has finished spreading his filthy seed into your hole, and within moments, he drops your leg and exits you, letting some of both of your juices dribble out of you steadily.

Once your assailant has been adequately satisfied with his overpowering of you, he quietly dismounts your bed and wipes off his covered cock. As your eyes glaze over with the pleasure still flowing through you, you feel your restraints loosen, and your hands drop down from above you. The latex man slowly removes the strap on your ballgag, and you can feel the pressure that held the rubber ball in place loosen and subside. Your jaw is still tight, but you are able to close your mouth finally with some effort, letting out a few breathy pants now that you can finally breathe properly. You lay deep into your bed, feeling exhaustion overtake you, but don’t find yourself passing out the way you had before. Your senses become somewhat dulled, though, as you watch the man who has just pleasured you walk out of your examination room without so much as a word.

You’re left breathless and wet on your bed. You don’t bother to move, still trying to recover from your encounter. You aren’t sure how long you’re left laying there, but after a while, you find that you are unable to sense time or space anymore. You’re not asleep, but you are dizzy with dulled senses. It occurs to you then that you are being drugged. There is no injection, no syrup, no powder, nothing at all. You shift your eyes up toward the ceiling and the tops of the walls around you but can’t see a vent. If there is one, it’s well hidden. You wonder, though, whether you’re barely being drugged, or if you had been the entire time.

You hear the door open from the wall in front of your bed and catch sight of two shapes that you can’t quite make out with your now severely blurred vision, but know are people. They’re completely clothed in such a way that you can’t make out any fleshy tones, and their faces appear to be covered by something. You feel them lift you up so that you’re on your relatively weak feet, with one of them gently supporting you, holding your hand while you lean against their frame and keeping your back steady with their other hand. You almost slip on your own juices that dribble onto the floor, but the figure keeps you steady.

Your vision is almost doubled by now, but you’re able to make out that you’re being escorted to the room door. You can’t think too clearly, but you try to focus on the shapes that you manage to make out, still aware enough to be worried and want to know what’s happening.

You feel yourself being guided into the arms of another person whose embrace of you is one you’re accustomed to. You are able to make out your doctor’s familiar skin tone, gentle voice, sweet odor, and wide frame. He says something to the person who’s escorted you out of the room, in an almost concerned tone, but you can’t hear anything clear enough to know what it is. You feel yourself being walked gently across the dim hallway and into the showers, and it’s there that you’re undressed by your doctor and guided to a shower.

Your body remains dulled of sense, but you’re still awake. Your mind, vision, and hearing make you feel like you’ve been encased in thick glass. Yosuke seats you in the shower to clean you off, removing his lab coat and rolling up his sleeves so that he can better take hold of you and do what he needs. The last thing you are able to remember yourself doing is grabbing his shirt desperately when he leans in to lather you in soap, mumbling,

“What’s happening to me?”

You think he says something back to you, but you can’t quite make it out. Before long, your vision goes black, and you succumb to sleep.

Chapter 9: Rest Four - Mom

A strong chemical odor pierces your nose, and you jolt up from whatever flat surface you’ve been lying on, your eyes wide and your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. You don’t catch sight of whoever is in front of you right away as your vision is still adjusting to being awoken, but he seems to jump back in surprise at your sudden reaction. As you vision finally does focus, you see Eight in front of you with a displeased, wide-eyed expression, but you are unsure as to why he’s there.

You quickly examine your surroundings, absolutely alert and your heart jumpy and rhythmic. It’s a much smaller room, but still white and decorated like your examination room. There are metal cabinets to your right with locks on them that need to be opened with a key. Before you is a wall with a metal door, and to your left is immediately another wall, causing you to realize that you’re up against a corner. There’s a bed beneath you, but not one that looks anything like the ones you’ve been on so far. It’s completely flat and covered with some kind of thick padded exterior that feels like plastic, a bed that’s overall not pleasant to sit on.

Eight watches you with strong and disdainful eyes at being taken aback by your reaction, and he discards the smelling salts in his hand in a white trash can beside him. Your heart slowly begins to beat at a regular pace now, your body gradually returning to its usual rhythm.

“If she’s panting like that, I certainly hope she’s awake,” you hear a lively female voice to your right chime up cheerily, a rather sultry but light voice that you don’t recognize. You look past Eight and see the limber, whispy frame of a young woman with long, golden blond, straight hair drooping down toward her lower back. She’s turned away from you, focused on something in her hands, but you can see her wearing a white lab coat that extends down over the backs of her thighs. On her feet, you can see black heels, shiny ones with pointed tips at the feet.

She suddenly drops the object, which you notice to be a clipboard, onto the counter before her and turns, revealing beautiful bright green eyes which are almost wide with fascination. Her pink lips are turned upward in a giddy smile, a pencil held to them, her cheeks red with blush. She has rather pale ivory skin, you notice. Not nearly as pale as someone like Cyrus, though, since you can still see splashes of peach and rose in it.

“Or are you two being naughty behind my back?” She questions with hungry delight in her voice, almost looking like she’s about to quite literally start drooling in lust at the idea. Eight scowls at her words, his expression visible to you but not to the woman.

“She’s awake,” he answers the woman, who you assume to be a doctor. Though he doesn’t seem to sound so angry as he addresses her, you hear an undertone of sharpness and disgust in his voice. You wonder why on earth Eight’s so resilient against you and everyone else, but you don’t think it wise to rile him up with questions, as per Cyrus’ suggestion the other day. Especially not right now.

“What a shame,” your observer almost frowns about being wrong, dropping her pencil from her lips. Though disappointed, she continues to grin, staring directly at you with her bright eyes. “Well well, young lady, you’re quite the naughty one!”

You blush, remembering your latex encounter just earlier, and a part of you worries that she somehow knows about the shame you felt in enjoying the experience, that she’s going to call you out on it and make fun of you for it. But instead, she remarks,

“We might already need to start upping your doses. And so soon!”

You look at Eight, but he doesn’t seem to know what the woman is talking about any more than you do, or perhaps he pretends he doesn’t. He rises from a stool you realize he’s been sitting on and turns to the doctor.

“Mother, may I have permission to leave now?” He asks, politely, almost like a schoolboy. The far livelier and gentler tone he uses in comparison to how you know he really talks continues to take you aback.

The female doctor folds her arms while still grinning widely with her face still blushed. She walks suddenly toward the boy, her heels clacking loudly against the floor. As she reaches him, she briefly unfolds her arms, takes his head in both her hands, and gives him a long, forceful smooch coupled with a breathy moan before finally pulling back and grinning again. Eight looks utterly displeased, avoiding eye contact with the woman, but does not fight her.

“You may leave, precious boy,” she almost groans pleasurably. “I appreciate you helping me.”

You’re disturbed by how this woman carries herself. She seems to be aroused by literally everything anyone does or says, every word of her dialogue dripping with ecstasy, or at least anticipation. You’re not sure how to feel about it other than absolutely uncomfortable, especially from hearing Eight calling her “mother”. You doubt they’re actually related, and you have a disturbing idea as to the kind of one-sided relationship they actually have. The doctor in front of you is likely as perverted as any other, though she seems to be far more open about it even outside of play than yours. Or maybe everything she does is playful to her. Are there really people who are aroused at all hours of the day like that?

Eight says nothing and simply walks out into the dim hallway. By the way the doctor isn’t hesitant to let him, you can only assume you’re in the infirmary, back in the hall dotted with all the recreational areas. You look back at the woman who is now eyeing you down with the eraser end of her pencil pressed firmly against her soft lips. She’s smiling so lively, but you feel like she’s measuring you up in a sexual way with how lustily she gazes at you, and so you cover your chest from her view.

“Who are you?” You ask her, trying to change her focus to something else. “Why am I here?”

“Don’t ask me for my name. Just call me mom, mother, or mommy,” the lively lady commands of you. “I like any variants, even momma, maman, mum, or mama. Mommy’s my go-to, but I’m gracious enough to give everyone I meet the freedom to choose which they use, so long as they use it.”

She gives you a wink as she explains this, making you uncomfortable.

“As for your second question, Doctor Chisaka brought you here after you passed out. He is a busy man, so he had no time to wait for you to wake up.”

“What happened to me?” You ask, but you see the woman starting to sharpen her gaze at you, so you add “Mom” to the end of your question, which keeps her happy.

The lively lady, who you suppose you have to call Mom now, gives a bit of a girlish laugh. “I told you, silly! Don’t you listen? Your body didn’t do what we wanted it to, you naughty girl!”

You remember feeling absolutely woozy before, but can’t recall too much of anything after your latex encounter ended.

“I…I was awake, I think,” you mull it over aloud. “What did you do to me…Mom?” You still feel strange letting the name escape your lips. You wonder if you ever used it before you came to the facility, but this makes your head buzz with TV static again.

“You were supposed to pass out for a little bit, before cleanup,” the giddy Mom grins, still with the pencil on her lower lip. “But evidently your body didn’t let you. We’re starting to think you need something just a little stronger, but it seems so soon for your gradual resistance to start building now!”

You think about the last few times you passed out or woke up somewhere different than you’d fallen asleep. You’d thought your sleeping spells were naturally induced bouts of exhaustion. At the very least, you could confirm that your night with Yosuke in your room was actually you passing out from exhaustion and not drugs. Had something been pumped into the air then, your caretaker would have been affected as well. And on your first day, you didn’t pass out at all—Yosuke had escorted you to the shower himself. But any other time…

Mom steps toward you with her clacking heels, and you can see more clearly now that she has on a black, sleek pencil skirt, black pantyhose, and a cream-colored, thin blouse.

“I didn’t read anything about you being accustomed to drugs like this when your cutie doctor handed me your file,” She leans in, exposing her rather excessive, creamy cleavage to your face. You blush and look away, much to her delight.

“You’re either a very special little girl,” she continues with a sly smirk. “Or, we gave you a poor dose on accident. We don’t usually make those kinds of mistakes here, but we’ll look into it nonetheless. We are all human, after all.”

You sure about that? You almost want to ask aloud. Instead, you continue your questions,

“So instead of passing out, I started to just feel woozy like I did?”

Mom nods in response with a breathy mm-hm noise escaping her nostrils, her pink grin still plastered on her face.

“It took longer than expected for you to actually go under,” she says, her enthusiasm unwavering even as she says the most basic of things. “Drugging you while you slept wasn’t at all a problem at first, but today’s dose seemed ineffective, so I was told. So, we’ll just have to give you stronger stuff next time. If you aren’t actually becoming resistant and it really was just a slip-up, then a stronger dose will only make you sleep for a little longer than usual. Hopefully no more than an hour or two. You’ll also take a lot longer to fully come back to.”

Your suspicions are then confirmed, as she makes it known that you are being drugged between visits. You feel uneasy thinking about your body being rendered helpless in your unconsciousness. You almost want to ask if the doctors have touched you while you slept, but you don’t think you want to know the answer to that question. Thinking about Yosuke playing with your helpless body, though, almost makes you blush, but you fight the image with a pinch of your hand and keep focused on Mom.

“You’re turning into quite the little princess around here, aren’t you?” she gives a sly chuckle and stands straight. “Always being tied up and used by my cutie colleagues. Doctor Chisaka has mentioned quite a lot about you, and so have a few of the other doctors who’ve given you a quick ride. You have a bit of a preference, don’t you? Being fucked senseless against your will?”

She taps her chin.

“But you’re still new, so you still have time to change your preference. You’ll find that we’re quite accepting of a wide variety of pleasures here, and it’s not shameful to find yourself preferring new things if you suddenly decide you do.”

She taps you on the nose playfully.

“There’s always time to change your mind, sweet one.”

You look down and wince as you remember the men you’ve seen. Other than Yosuke, you’ve only really encountered three other people, yet they’ve so far done more to you than you were ready for or used to. With each assault, you can feel yourself slipping more and more into the role these people want you to play, despite knowing that you need to try not to. You can only imagine what else might befall you later on, or what you might start to actually like, if you do start to like it. You shudder to think of yourself being into things you thought disgusting just a few days ago.

At the same time, should Yosuke continuously pair you with the same kinds of men with the same kinds of fetishes, you might find your body becoming accustomed to certain kinds of sex and may eventually become bored. Are the others bored, you wonder? Do their visitors do things differently each time so that they aren’t? Or is everyone just hopped up on drugs all the time so that they never have the chance to feel bored? You question whether being under the influence of drugs makes it any better, whether being in absolute pleasure and letting go because you’re not really you anymore is better than just constantly resisting your captors. Is that what’s happened to someone like Blue, who seems to enjoy her torment now when she didn’t before? Your mind feels so jumbled, then, that it almost starts to hurt.

“Focus on me, little girl,” Mom glides a manicured finger under your chin as you come to, making you realize you’ve been silent in your thoughts for almost a minute. You’re forced to look up at this woman, her busty frame towering over you. She gives a bit of a laugh through her nostrils and moves her hand away.

“Well, other than all of that drug nonsense,” she continues on, still smiling. “Your vitals seem fine. You just didn’t react the way we wanted you to within the timeframe we wanted you to, so we were just a little bit worried.”

“Is that what you call it?” your eyes glower. “Worry?”

“We don’t want you dead if we can still get use out of you,” the woman’s smile fades. “Don’t be difficult, and don’t use that tone with me. Your doctor may have the patience to listen to your backtalk, but I certainly do not.”

She snaps her fingers repeatedly in front of your face and points to the door.

“Get up and leave, little girl,” she commands you, her tone now completely shifted as her voice becomes sharp and unpleasant. “I’m done for now. I have to get back to the office and re-file your papers thanks to your little episode. Again.”

So, she’s the one from the records office. You start to wish your image of this woman were still mysterious and unknown, rather than what you see before you now. You can’t exactly pinpoint her, and this bothers you most of all. You especially despise having to avoid making her mad with her preferred pet name, then realize that she’s likely being snappy at you now because you forgot to use it and started showing resistance simultaneously. Even Eight seemed to know to be polite to Mom, but you could see it in his face earlier that he was completely disgusted having to do so.

You don’t say another word and simply follow Mom’s command, leaving the infirmary in silence. To your surprise, you see Eight standing against the wall a little further from the door, apparently having been waiting for you. He doesn’t necessarily act like he notices you, but he does speak up.

“If you tell anyone about that, I will literally kill you where you stand,” he shoots out, though he seems to be saying this in defense, not with sincerity. You can tell he’s extremely embarrassed, but doing his best to hide it. “Nobody has heard me act that way, and until I die, nobody’s going to. I don’t care if she does the same shit to anyone else, I don’t want to let myself be seen that way.”

He finally turns his head to you and gives you a dirty look, his light green eyes piercing you commandingly.

“Understand?”

“Okay, I got it,” you shoot back in response. You find his incessant negative attitude to be annoying, and his supposition that you’d bother to blab about certain kinds of things almost offends you. You seem to already be keeping more secrets for people than you care to, but you take offense that someone would assume you wouldn’t continue to take any more. You’re not a mean person, not really. He, however, is.

You sigh. “I guess if it makes you feel better, I’ll say thanks, I guess?”

“For what?” Eight looks confused but remains with glowering eyes and a scrunched up face. You exhale and roll your eyes to the side.

“For…waking me up? I don’t know! I’m trying to be nice, and like, not a huge jerk!”

“You mean like me?” Eight folds his arms and frowns. “Don’t be so quick to sing my praises. ‘Mother’ just made me help her because she wanted to get things finished faster. She gets impatient easily.”

“Is she your doctor?”

“She’s a piece of shit, is what she is,” Eight retorts in annoyance. “But no. She’s Cyrus’ doctor, but she makes me ‘fill in’ for him when he’s away. She just visits me sometimes because she likes me. I can’t imagine why.”

“Neither can I,” you respond, almost holding back a laugh. This makes the grey boy scowl at you.

“You think you’re funny?” He practically growls. “This isn’t a game. Stop acting like it is. Nothing is worth being okay about in this place. If you think otherwise, you’re just playing into the doctors’ hands.”

“I think everyone’s kind of right—we have to stick together, Eight,” you remind him in disagreement. “If I had to stay here by myself, I think I’d have gone insane already by now. I’m not as resilient as others are for this kind of stuff. Having everyone else around makes me feel better, even just a bit. Knowing that I’m not suffering alone helps more than you could ever imagine. Don’t you feel better having people who know what it’s like, people you can talk to?”

“No,” is the young man’s only reply. He unfolds his arms and kicks off the wall, shoving you aside and storming away before you have a chance to respond to him. He again goes into the library, which you decide to avoid today.

You peruse the other activity areas in search of something to take your mind off of everything once more and decide to enter the arcade today instead, curious as to what’s in there. As the doors open, you see a room where the light comes not from the walls, but rather from rows and rows of various arcade cabinets that look almost ancient, though you’re not sure why you know that they do. The floor is a dark blue, almost like the library floor, and the ceiling and walls are grey as the lights that usually radiate from them are off. Instead, the only light source comes from the glowing cabinets. The room hums and chirps with various electronic noises from each cabinet, but it isn’t overwhelming to you. It’s almost comforting to hear something other than the hum of the facility rooms or the sounds of metal scraping and grinding.

From beyond some of the cabinets, you can hear two voices crying out competitively as a game is played, and you peek over to see Six and Violet huddled around one cabinet, pressing buttons furiously and making meaningless battling quips and comments to one another. You decide to go toward them to see what they’re playing and catch sight of two characters fighting each other on the screen. You aren’t sure if you’ve played many games before, but you are familiar with what they are like and you are able to gather the mechanics of this game without too much trouble.

Six appears to be playing as a particularly buff blond man with a plain shirt and jeans, whereas Violet has chosen a leather jacket-wearing young man with dark hair and black pants. Both girls are pounding buttons on the cabinet and moving joysticks on the console around furiously in an attempt to adequately control their characters and beat one another. Very soon, Violet’s character gets punched repeatedly by Six’s until her health drops to zero. The bar at the top doesn’t indicate that she has any more lives, so Six is declared the winner, as the screen displays text that indicates so.

Six throws her arms up in the air excitedly.

“Haha, yesss!” She exclaims in victory, grinning ear to ear with pride. “Gotta try harder than that to beat me, Vi!”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Violet whines in response, her brow lowered and her hand still gripping the joystick before her. “You’ve been playing this longer than me!”

“You wanted to play, so we played. Don’t get all huffy at me now, dude.”

“Okay, so let’s pick something that I can actually win!”

Six smirks. “What, some kind of baby game that anyone can get good at?”

You notice that neither girls have acknowledged your presence yet, and you don’t even know if they realize you’re there. However, as Six makes her remark, she tries to point to a cabinet somewhere behind her and accidentally winds up smacking you in the nose pretty hard. You cry out in alarm and clutch your nose, much to her surprise. Six whips her body around, causing her peach-colored gown to twirl around her strong thighs, and Violet finally looks behind the taller girl to see that you’ve been standing there. She holds a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh, and meanwhile, Six leans over and tries to place her hands on you sympathetically, but doesn’t actually touch you.

“Ooh, I’m so sorry!” She winces. “Are you okay?”

“Aagh,” you groan, but remove your hands from your face. “I think so. Is it bad?”

“Yikes, you’re bleeding,” Violet remarks pretty casually. “Maybe you oughtta get it looked at.”

This causes you to groan in frustration.

“I just got out of the infirmary, I really don’t want to go back,” you explain to them, trying to wipe the blood away. “Mom’s already pretty mad at me.”

“Oh great, you met Momma,” Violet scowls. “What a weirdo.”

“She makes everyone call her Mom or some other variant of it,” Six chimes in with almost a chuckle.

“Does she ‘see’ everyone too?” You question, still wiping off your nose.

“No, just the boys, mostly,” Six shakes her head. “Though I heard she might have been with Three a few times, but I can’t tell you for sure. That girl never talks about it.”

As you finish wiping, you find that your nose stings just a bit, but you don’t feel it broken at all. You don’t think there’s any major trauma, but you still feel a discomfort on the area.

“Is that any better?” You ask Six with a twiddle of your nose, cross-eyed as you try to focus on the thing.

Six laughs with a deep but feminine tone to her voice. “No, c’mere.”

Six raises the hem of her gown and uses it to wipe away the rest of the blood around your nose. As you try to avoid looking at her now-exposed underwear, you can see half her face lit up by the arcade cabinets beside her, the rest of her face fading into a darker gradient as the light fails to reach the other side. She has very angular features for a girl, and a far larger nose than you’ve ever seen so far. However, she still looks feminine in her cheeks, eyes, and overall expression. She has a strong jaw and her hair is short and flat. Though you’re accustomed to seeing every girl or woman here with longer hair, the shortness of hers isn’t particularly unbecoming of her, and it compliments her features nicely. Six’s warm-toned skin also looks a lot darker without the bright white lighting of most rooms surrounding her, you notice.

“There, that should be better,” she finishes her cleanup and drops her gown back down. “You okay?”

“I don’t feel any worse than I did before,” you twiddle your nose a bit once more to adjust it. The skin still stings from being smacked, but you otherwise feel fine. You truly weren’t expecting your first painful moments in the facility to be because of an accident. “I feel kind of bad you have to walk around with blood on your gown though. They might ask about it later.”

“It is what it is,” Six shrugs. “They’ll probably just give me another.”

Violet taps on Six’s shoulder impatiently.

“Hey, you’re not getting out of this that easy,” she pouts. “I want a rematch.”

Six grins in response. “If you wanna lose again, sure!”

You find yourself spending several hours with the two girls, watching them bounce from game to game in competitive spirits. You keep score for them as they continue their feud, but unsurprisingly, Six continues to dominate the scoreboard, making Violet fume over each loss. You find yourself laughing a little whenever she starts to whine like a sore loser, and Six joins in with you.

“Look, Vi, just practice a little,’ She tells her red-faced, fiery companion. “I’ve been here a little longer than you, and I’m here a lot when Peaches isn’t around, so I’ve had time to practice. You just gotta make time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the dark-haired short girl puffs out her cheek, folding her arms in annoyance.

“Peaches?” You question Six. She nods at you with a happy mm-hm sound escaping her nose.

“It’s what I call her,” she explains with a smile. “She calls me Peaches too.”

“Is that what everyone else calls you?”

“They call each other Peaches,” Violet doesn’t give Six a chance to answer. “We just use their numbers, or they’ll use each other’s numbers around us to make it easier. They like it that way.”

“You guys almost seemed like sisters the way you two were laughing over jokes the first day I came,” you mention. “Or…are you two, um…”

Six gives you a bit of a wide-eyed, surprised look as if unsure how to answer you, her face turning a bit red. But before she has a chance to open her mouth in response, you hear the intercom above you go off yet again. However, you don’t hear the bell signaling everyone for bed. Instead, you hear the voice of a familiar young woman call out,

“Ten to the gate, thank you.”

There’s no other word said before the intercom shuts off, but you know exactly what being called means. Violet and Six both look at you with knowing, discomforting grimaces as your number is being summoned.

“Ooh, sorry,” Six apologizes for you, almost cringing. “I know a visitor’s summon when I hear one.”

Violet looks at the ground, her arms still folded and her face now scrunched up yet again, though she looks less angry and more uncomfortable.

“I guess see you tomorrow or some other day if you don’t come back today,” she shrugs. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s always awkward when they call you, don’t worry,” Six puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to reassure you. “But you should probably get going. Some doctors are super impatient. Especially Mom.”

You exhale, but give her a silent nod before waving and making your way out of the arcade. As you exit, you see the hallway gate to your left now open, with Mom standing behind it with an exaggeratedly worried expression on her face. She presses both hands on her face like a child when she sees you and gasps as you make your way toward her begrudgingly.

“Oh, my baby!” She cries. “I’ve been worried about you!”

As you finally approach her, she takes you in her arms and hugs you tightly, your face being pressed into her rather large breasts.

“Oh, mommy’s so sorry she yelled at you earlier!” Mom continues to fuss, sounding almost legitimately like a guilt-riddled person. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Her tone seems to have completely shifted yet again, leaving you in confusion. You aren't sure how to pinpoint this woman. You certainly don't want to make her mad, so you decide to try to pull through for her.

After a brief moment, Mom pulls you away with both hands on your shoulders, awaiting a response eagerly. You look at the floor, wanting to avoid her light green gaze, and simply respond,

“Yes, mom.”

The giddy doctor giggles at your “forgiveness” and smiles at you.

“Mommy’s done with her work for today, you know,” she tells you happily with a tap of her finger on your nose. “She wants to make it up to you for being so snappy! She gave your cutie doctor a call to make sure it was okay to take you away for the rest of the day, and he said yes!”

She gives your chin a bit of a loving shake and tug with one soft hand and giggles as you blush. Without hesitation, she takes one of your hands and gently pulls on it.

“Now follow me, mommy has a treat for you!”

Chapter 10: Visit Four - Stimulation

“Take off your gown for me, little girl,” Mom commands you, her sultry voice feminine and robust. You fear what kind of fury this woman might unleash upon you if she gets mad enough. Her snapping at you in the infirmary gave you a sense of how quickly her mood could change, so you find it best not to push her buttons.

Slowly, you undress, lifting the hem of your gown above your crotch, then above your waist until you are finally able to pull it over your chest and head. Mom giggles at the sight of your naked breasts and white panties, and you avoid her gaze as you drop your rose gown on the floor, almost completely naked and feeling cold as the air brushes against your skin. You look at her with the hope that she won’t ask you to, but she in fact motions for you to completely undress. Hesitantly, you also remove your underwear for her, now baring yourself completely to Mom.

“Get on the bed, pretty one. Sitting up.”

You oblige Mom’s order, worriedly going through all the sorts of things she might put you through. You don’t know what a woman would intend to do with another woman, since you haven’t experienced being with one yet. You wish that it had been anyone else but her for your first experience, but you figured from the moment she caught sight of you in the infirmary that she was enamored by you for some reason. You wonder, then, how Cyrus feels about her, and whether she carries the same attitude with him as she is carrying for you now. She seemed to with Eight somewhat, but even then she didn’t gush over him the way she did in the hallway for you.

You slowly climb on top of the bed in your main examination room, feeling the smooth silken sheets gliding against your skin as you do so. You perch your bare bottom on it, not laying down yet.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl,” Mom commands with such sweetness in her voice, such disturbing giddiness and pleasure. She approaches you and takes the lower straps from your bed and ties your ankles with them after you’ve spread your legs as instructed. They’re the same straps you felt on your first day, and being reminded of their sensation around your skin makes your heart flutter.

Once you’re strapped in, Mom gives your left outer leg a light slap, satisfied with her binding of you. She then moves behind your bed, moving to adjust its height so that the bed is now tilted, allowing you to lean back and sit up somewhat. She does not tell you to lean back, but rather guides you back with her hand, her skin warm as it presses against your chest.

Mom then moves behind your bed and out of view, and you hear her open one of the drawers back there, grabbing something that sounds just a bit clunky. You also hear her grab something a little more solid from another drawer, but she leaves it on the counter somewhere behind you.

“Arms up, little one,” Mom orders you as she walks toward the head of your bed. You do as told and feel the woman cuff your wrists, but these cuffs feel more leathery than previous ones. She chains the cuffs to the bar on your bed and gives it a tug to make sure it’s secure.

“Now, just one more thing before we start!” Mom smiles at you, a hand behind her back. She takes her other hand and grabs your chin, pulling your head up to make you look at her as she towers above you.

“Mommy’s going to tease you for a little bit, princess,” she grins. “She wants to make up for being so mean before! But, she wants you to wear this in your mouth.”

Mom moves the hand behind her back forward now, revealing what looks to be the same as the ball gag you had on earlier today, but with a phallic shape resembling the head and part of the shaft of a penis sticking inward where your mouth is supposed to go. You blush as you catch sight of it.

“Open your mouth for mommy,” the lustful woman towering over you sweetly commands, her glazed eyes sweetly staring into you. You don’t want to have to scream “mommy” as she toys with you, so you almost happily take the gag over nothing, though it embarrasses you to have to do so. Hesitantly, you part your lips and teeth, looking away as you feel Mom forcefully ram the rubbery cock in your mouth and wrap the gag’s strap around your head snugly. She hums merrily, gently, sweetly as she binds your mouth, hunching over and practically forcing you to look down her shirt. You can see her breasts cupped with a lacy black bra, and her skin smells sweet like roses.

The rubbery cock does not go down your throat, thankfully, but you feel it resting prominently on your teeth and pressing gently onto the tip of your tongue, extending down into your mouth just enough to reach halfway to your throat, but not entirely reaching it. It’s almost a filling sensation, leaving more to be desired, much to your absolute embarrassment. You don’t want to admit that the feeling leaves you wanting a real cock.

Once you’ve been properly prepared, Mom bounces back to a standing position and chuckles with feminine delight.

“Mommy’s going to touch you for a little bit,” she tells you readily, her face hot with blush. “She wants you to feel extra good to make up for earlier, okay?”

You blush and look away, but nod to let Mom know that you can hear her. She turns around to pull more things from the drawer, but again sets them on the counter with a light clacking noise. You are unsure as to what these objects might be, but she does not bring them over to the bed just yet.

Instead, Mom removes her lab coat, using both hands to spread the sides open and gently and expose her delicate curved frame to you. She drops her coat to the floor and begins to unbutton her shirt, using the same parting motion to remove it and expose her lace-covered breasts. She giggles as she watches you blush over her visible flesh, moving her hands to the top of her skirt to unzip it. You watch as the fabric falls around her heels, exposing her lacy black panties and pantyhose-covered legs, bot connected by a garterbelt.

“Do you like it?” Mom teases you, jiggling her breasts in your direction with both hands. “It’s my favorite thing to wear here, you know.”

She moves toward you, her heels still on her feet and clacking against the floor with each step. As she reaches your head, she gives your hair a quick run-through with her pale fingers and lets out a breathy moan.

“I’ll start with my fingers, pretty baby.”

She takes your head in both hands and gently rubs her fingertips down your cheeks and along the sides of your ears, almost tickling them and the nape of your neck as she lightly caresses your skin with sensuous intent. She continues downward, gently tickling your armpits when she reaches them, which causes you to react wildly in response. You let out a muffled gasp, the gag in your mouth preventing you from making too much noise, but letting you make just enough to make Mom drip with pleasure. She continues to stare longingly into you with a giddy smirk as she tickles your armpits and the sides of your torso gently with her light touch, making you press your legs together as the sensation makes you feel strangely aroused.

“I’m sure your cutie boy friends would love to be touched gently like this,” Mom moans as she moves her tickling fingers toward your breasts and stomach. “But I won’t touch my naughty boys the same way as I touch my precious girls. My little princesses are special and get special treatment. Aren’t you my little princess?”

You blush wildly and struggle as you feel her fingers holding your body hostage, heaving your chest with heavy breaths and wriggling around in your leather cuffs. Mom finds this delightful, and she rubs your thighs before gently running her fingers in between them. She teases your clit through your panties just a little with one finger while running her other finger along your slit, but stops once you begin to grow wetter at her touch. Instead, she moves down to your feet and starts to attack them with her wriggling fingers, the sensation of being tickled making you pull your legs away wildly. The restraints around your ankles, however, keep you in place, forcing you to endure Mom’s torturous tickling. You begin to moan and laugh uncontrollably as your body wriggles around forcefully.

“Oh, my little girl likes to be tickled!” Mom giggles, watching your jerking movements with glee.

You try to shake her off, but you can’t bring yourself to get away from her grasp with the restraints keeping you right where she wants you. You feel the rubbery phallus practically grinding against your tongue as you laugh and cry, muffling your attempts to communicate. Your stomach feels full of butterflies, your nipples hardened, and your pussy starting to drip.

After a few more moments of tickling, your assailant finally lets go of your feet, satisfied with your reaction. You notice that she’s also become somewhat wet from watching you struggle. Your chest rises and falls sharply as you try to recover from the sensation of being tickled, your breaths heavy and hot as you try to take in and expel air from your mouth and nose simultaneously.

“I didn’t expect my baby to react this way so quickly!” Mom giggles. “You’re so precious, my pretty!”

She walks back toward the counter and grabs hold of something, bringing it back toward the front of your bed. She’s also got something in her other hand again, but you can’t see what it is. The visible toy, however, looks to be some kind of a feather duster stick, but you have no time to really examine it before Mom leans in and starts to tickle you again with it, instead of with her fingers. She wiggles the thing against your neck, causing you to tilt your head up in response as you give off a moan. Gently, Mom brings the feathery contraption down your body, tickling your armpits, breasts, tummy, and thighs as she watches you writhe around on your bed, captive to her sensational torture.

As Mom makes her way toward your legs, she finally pulls out the object in her other hand and makes it more clear to you.

“Now, let’s give this a try, baby girl,” she smiles, her voice sultry and breathy. You can make out a long shape of some strange round-tipped object that looks almost like a microphone. It’s white, and though it’s a little big in her delicate hands, it’s no longer than a foot or so.

Mom gently places the thing between your legs, positioning it in such a way that the head is pressed against your clit. With a gentle smirk, Mom presses a button on the device which causes it to start buzzing and vibrating rapidly, stimulating your clit and causing you to be caught off guard. You throw your head back in both surprise and pleasure at the sensation, beginning to move your body against the thing instinctively.

Mom gives a gentle laugh, but continues on playing with you. She gives your thigh a loving rub before moving back to your feet with the feathery stick, daintily tickling your toes as you buck and wriggle with pleasure. You try to wiggle the vibrating device off of you, but find it’s positioned in such a way that no matter where you move, it stays pressed against you, forcing you to endure it’s strong vibrations that send shivers up and down your spine and make you wetter and wetter. You half-laugh, half-moan as you writhe around, trying to beg to be let go but being forced into a muffled yelp as the rubbery cock in your mouth keeps your tongue in its place.

The coupling of Mom’s tickle torture and the vibrations of the device against your clit send you into ecstasy, and you soon find yourself unable to hold yourself back. You begin to pant and buck against the contraption, feeling it’s vibrations throughout the entirety of your body. Soon, you begin to come, and you squirt out just enough to reach the end of the bed. Mom laughs giddily and breathily, moaning and groaning with pleasure.

“Oh yes, my baby, come for your Mommy!” She cries lustfully, laughing as she says it. “What a good girl you are!”

Though your orgasm comes to an end, you find that the vibrator continues to assault your clit. The machine refuses to cease its function and continues to force you to feel pleasure against your will. You feel tired, but the contraption refuses to let you rest.

Mom, on the other hand, has now stopped tickling you. Instead, she starts to massage her breast while moving toward the foot of your bed. She releases the lever behind you so suddenly, causing you to fall backward and lie flat. Mom can see that your face is absolutely hot and red, completely flushed as you’re forced to endure more pleasure from the vibrator.

“Mommy’s very wet,” Mom coos, her sweet breath hitting your face. “You’ve watched those cutie male doctors eat you out, haven’t you? You’ve felt the way they do it? So…”

She moves her leg over your shoulder and mounts your chest, making it harder for you to breathe, but not completely rendering you unable to. Mom hunches over you, her knees bent behind her and on the sides of your body, her arms pressed against the metal bars at the top of the bed frame. You can see her face clearly, hot and blushing, flushed as yours is. She seems to be panting with anticipation, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Mommy made you cum, so she wants you to make her cum too,” She chuckles with lust on her lips. “You know what to do, so do it, little girl.”

She moves a hand down her crotch to pull her underwear aside, exposing her pink, wet pussy to you. With her hands, she undoes the strap around your head and pulls the rubber cock out of your mouth. As it comes out, it makes a loud, wet POP noise, and saliva falls out from your lips.

Mom tosses the gag aside and giggles as she moves her body upward toward your face, resting her pussy on it gently. You try to shake her away, but know that it’s useless to. Whether or not you want her to, she begins to ride your face, her clit rubbing against your nose and your lips caught inside her labia.

“Use your tongue, little girl,” she commands breathily. “Make Mommy sing!”

You feel filthy as you’re forced to suck and lick this woman’s wet pussy like a slave. You want it to end, but know the only way that it will is if you comply. Groaning half with pleasure at the vibrations in your own pussy and half with disgust at the unfamiliar taste and feel of the woman, you stick your tongue out for Mom and let her ride it and your nose, hearing moans escape from her lips as she takes you.

“Yes, yes!” She gasps with each forward thrust, humping your face eagerly. “That’s it baby, move your tongue around for me, pretty girl!”

You hesitantly oblige, shutting your eyes as you feel Mom’s wet clit and labia rub against your face. Your tongue feels wet against the sloppy opening of her vagina, and you are helpless to stop her as she rides you with pleasure. Soon, the both of you reach your climax, with you moaning from beneath the woman, adding vibrations from your muffled voice to the sensations in her pussy. She humps faster and faster until she finally arches her back, throws her head back and lets out a powerful, womanly scream, coming into your face while you squirt yet again from the vibrator’s stimulation.

As Mom’s orgasm ends, she laughs at you from beneath her. She reaches back to grab the vibrator from your pussy, turning the thing off and leaving the room in silence as the loud buzzing noises finally cease. Mom slowly backs off of your face, allowing you to breathe again, and you do so with more sharp inhales and exhales, panting through your mouth and nose which are both glistening with your assailant’s slimy cum.

“You did very good for me, baby girl,” Mom pants while towering over you. “You really are a little princess.”

She leans in and wipes your messy face with her hand, grinning at you while making gentle and giggly noises that almost sound like subtle little squeals.

“Did you like my taste, little girl?” She questions you intently, but you know you can’t say no.

“Yes….Mom,” you pant in response, even though you’re lying. You hadn’t wanted your first woman to be someone like her, yet you had no choice in the matter ultimately.

“That’s my good girl,” Mom coos, giving you a quick, breathy kiss on the lips, unafraid of tasting her own cum. She undoes your cuffs from the edge of the bed, your wrists now free and mobile again.

“Now, get up,” she commands you. “Get dressed and get ready to clean up. I’m not going to let them put you to sleep this time because I want you to vividly remember this encounter, the way you felt being forced to give a woman head. Think on it, let it stay in your memory.”

She giggles, taking her finger and tapping your nose playfully.

“Remember your place always, my little girl.”

Chapter 11: Rest Five - Crafts

You shuffle around in your bed as you awake from your slumber, almost surprised that you aren’t in your examination room this time. You tussle your rosy sheets with your feet and peel away your comforter from your body. It feels strange, being in silence, alone and without interruption. You almost don’t know what to do with yourself. You half-expected to wake up to your doctor at least sitting by you, but he doesn’t appear to be around yet.

Hopping out of your bed, you stretch and head into your bathroom, where you splash water on your face from the sink. You notice a cabinet hanging on the wall to your left and fish through it out of curiosity, not having had the chance to do so before. There, you find basic toiletries, like soap, toothpaste, cotton swabs, a hairbrush, and a few other various products that don’t have fancy labels, but are in clear or white packages with names of the product etched on the exterior. You decide to take the hairbrush and look into the mirror while you groom. Though you stare only briefly, you feel as though you’re not looking at yourself, like the image being reflected back at you isn’t really you. A part of you begins to think that you’re losing yourself in this place, but you try to pinch your cheeks and hands to remind yourself where you are. You don’t want to let yourself give into things, even though you’re starting to. You flash back to Eight’s resilient nature, and you admit that even though he’s horribly rude and conniving, he does have a bit of a point about not letting yourself be okay with or accustomed to what the doctors do. Perhaps it would be better to be as resistant as he is, but you aren’t sure how to. You wonder if he maintains his sense of sanity or humanity by being so stubborn.

You suddenly stop brushing your hair and remember last night, grimacing at the intrusive memory. You didn’t like the way it felt to be ridden by Mom. You aren’t sure whether you like or dislike the idea of being toyed with by the same sex, but you disliked how quickly she moved things. She didn’t even use you the way the men have so far. Making you come with a toy rather than her own body made it seem impersonal, despite how much she was making a fuss over you before. You remember walking shamefully over to the shower without being drugged. You remember her words, how she told you to remember her. You almost feel shameful doing precisely that. You hope that you don’t have to see her again, but you know you probably will. At the very least, you hope you can talk to Cyrus about it, to give you some peace of mind.

You finally put your brush back in its place and exit your bathroom. Immediately, you see your door finally slide open to reveal your dark-haired doctor. Yosuke stares at you warmly and with his usual smile, but you refuse to meet his olive gaze.

“Good morning, my dear,” he greets you. “I’ve missed you.”

He stretches his hand out toward you, expecting you to know to take it. You do, and so you silently oblige. His fingers pressing against your palm are warm, you notice. You haven’t felt his touch in a while, and especially not in a way that wasn’t inherently sexual. Feeling his hand wrapped around yours now as he guides you out of your room and through the hall is strange, but almost comforting.

“I didn’t have the time to arrange a visit for you for this morning,” your doctor explains. “I’ve been a bit busy with some other work, but I promise I’ll make time just for you very soon. But for today, you’ll have time to yourself. I’ve arranged a visit for later, so someone should see you then.”

He looks at you while you stare at the ground with each step, and he almost chuckles.

“Your mother told me about what happened yesterday,” he gently chimes in, making you wince. You also are surprised to know that even he refers to Mom as a mother, wondering just how insistent the woman is on playing her role that she has even the doctors refer to her the way she prefers.

“I hope she treated you well. I know she’s a bit strange, but as long as you stay on her good side, she does wonders for you in bed.”

You blush and lower your brows at this statement. You aren’t particularly pleased by the experience you had, so you don’t know what Yosuke really means by this. You also want to ask him if he has had sex with Mom himself to know this, but for some reason, the thought of him in arms with anyone but you makes you almost jealous, which you chastise yourself for feeling.

“She’s usually fond of young men,” Yosuke continues, squeezing your hand as he notices you looking utterly uncomfortable and frustrated. “She likes the taste of semen more than anything else, but she’s been known to see our girls from time to time. Mostly one of them in particular, but I supposed she wanted to give you a try. Many of the other doctors like to ‘try out’ new guests, after all.”

You say nothing, but Yosuke knows that you’ve heard him this entire time. He intentionally slows down as he rounds the corner to the usual hallway, forcing you to stand by the door to the records room which is, again, still half open at the top.

“Knock, won’t you, darling?” Yosuke gently asks you. He seems to enjoy your reaction, your hesitance toward being anywhere near the office in fear that Mom might pop up suddenly and start being weird around you again. You hesitate, but oblige your doctor’s order and give three solid knocks on the doorframe, the way he had before.

You hear a girlish giggle from the office. This makes your heart jump, but you are relieved to find that Mom doesn’t come around the corner to greet you. Instead, the white metal gate opens, and Yosuke puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Have a good day, my dear,” he coos, giving you a kiss on the cheek and making you blush. “And enjoy tonight.”

You step in for a moment before the gate finally shuts loudly behind you, feeling your chest release a heavy breath of burden as you are finally able to breathe without worry. You’re back with your friends now, and that’s what matters. You worry about what might come later, but for now, you turn your attention to the hallway before you.

To your surprise, you catch Six exiting the cafeteria doors with a small, clear bag full of ice in her hands. She stops when she sees you, her eyes almost widening.

“Oh! Hey,” She greets. She doesn’t appear to be particularly happy. Her eyes are shifting about, beads of sweat are rolling down on her neck and forehead, and her hands seem shaky even as they grasp the bag of ice. Before you have the chance to ask her, she continues to speak. “I’m kind of taking care Peaches, since she’s not doing so well today. I think she got too much of something and started shaking and vomiting.”

“Oh no…” You give a sympathetic response, holding a hand to your chest. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

“I want to believe she will be,” Six responds. “It’s not like stuff like this doesn’t happen sometimes, but you never know how things will go around here. I’m just a little worried, that’s all.”

You realize that Mom’s not the one in the infirmary if she’s in the records office, so you wonder what doctor might be with Five and Six. You then look at the bag of ice with a question in your eyes.

“How’d you get that?”

“The person behind the counter in the cafeteria gave it to me,” Six answers simply. “You can ask them for stuff if you really need it, but they don’t usually say anything and just give it to you. They’re usually there all the time when we’re here.”

You remember the shadowy figure passing by you as you looked into the crevice by the counter a few days ago, almost shuddering. You also suddenly remember the figures that helped you off the bed after your encounter with the latex man, and you begin to wonder just who these people are.

“Are the workers doctors?” You ask your peachy friend. She tussles the bag around in her hands, causing the sounds of ice clacking together to echo in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a lot of time right now. I need to get back to Peaches,” she cuts your conversation short. However, she tries to give you a slight smile just to assuage you. “But maybe another time, okay? Or ask Cyrus next time you see him, since he knows more about it than I do. I’ll see you around.”

“Right, I'm sorry,” you give a quick apology. “Tell her I hope she feels better.”

Six gives a slight nod, but says nothing more as she jogs past you and into the infirmary. You see the doors open, but can’t see much from behind Six other than a crumpled figure on the bed who you assume to be Five. You also hear a faint voice from within the room, one fairly gentle and light, but still a little deep. You can’t quite tell if it’s a woman or a man, nor can you see whoever’s talking clearly enough to tell. You lean in to try to catch a glimpse of this doctor, but the doors shut before you are able to. You worry about the girls, but presume that they’ll be taken care of, since the doctors here seem to want to keep everyone healthy and alive. Otherwise, there’d be no point in using or even keeping them, though thinking about this viewpoint that the doctors seem to have about their guests’ expendability disgusts you.

Turning your attention back to the hallway, you look on and see a few doors you haven’t yet explored—THEATER, CRAFTS ROOM, POOL, MUSIC ROOM. Curious about what other kinds of activities there are for the numbers, you decide to enter the crafts room. There, you’re greeted with the same white walls as always, but a rather light pink color is spread out on the floor rather than blue or white like you’ve seen. Along the walls are shelves full of crafting supplies, with smaller items being kept in buckets or in drawers within some cabinets that do have them. Despite the messiness of crafting anything, the area is rather clean and kempt, and everything is labelled properly. There are a few laminated sheets of instructions for certain kinds of crafts scattered along some of the walls, possibly to inspire ideas on what to make or instruct newcomers on how things work.

There are a few strange creations lining the walls and floors of the rather large room here and there, mostly cardboard people with googly eyes, yarny hair, and painted clothes. It almost looks like a bunch of little kids got together and tried to make a town full of people made of cardboard and construction paper. It’s almost endearing, but is mostly silly.

You notice a few low, flat grey metal tables scattered about, clearly there to let people work on their projects. At one table, you catch sight of the red twins, Two and Three, side by side. Blue is sitting across from them, eagerly scribbling something on a paper. Two and Three are both sharing a paper, taking turns with scribbling onto it while giggling at their work, though you can’t make out what their creation is from where you’re standing. You still struggle to see them as entirely innocent after having witnessed their activity together in the garden, but you don’t want to have to completely avoid them forever. You swallow some air and decide to head over. Perhaps being creative with the others will help clear your head.

Blue is the first to notice you, as she perks up her head with a bright smile.

“Hey, haven’t seen you in a while!” She cheerily greets you. “Not since you dodged me that one time. How’ve you been holding up?”

“Sorry, I was pretty, uh…distracted that day,” you answer her with a false cheeriness in your voice. Two notices this and looks up from his drawing toward you, blushing with embarrassment as he no doubt remembers catching you outside the garden. He seems to silently hope that you won’t rat him out, but you return his glance with one of your own, communicating silently a reassurance of your promise.

“I guess that’s normal,” Blue shrugs. “You’re still new and all. By the way, look at this!”

She lifts up her paper and ecstatically shows you the thing she’s drawn. You are able to make out a sketchy image of herself holding a bouquet of flowers. Her skin has been sketched in red, but the flowers, her gown, and her eyes are blue.

“I like drawing pictures of myself sometimes,” She tells you as you kneel down next to her and take your place at the table with everyone. She points at the blue bouquet. “These are hydrangeas, they’re these pretty blue flowers I’ve seen in the gardens a few times. I thought it was fitting, since I’m also Blue.”

“It’s a nice sketch,” you compliment her. “Do you usually draw?”

“No, actually,” Blue tilts her head a bit while looking up in thought. “I’m usually busy or just caught up in other stuff. I think I just caught onto it really quick. You know, honed onto it and all. It’s fun!”

“Maybe you used to be an artist before,” Two jokes while his sister scribbles something onto their paper. You notice that the two are drawing some kind of creature together, with each body part in a different art style. It looks so far like some kind of lion-unicorn-alligator hybrid, but you can’t tell with how sloppy the pencilwork is. All you can really discern is a creature with sharp teeth, scales, and a mane. Evidently, the two are just doing their activity together for fun.

“Huh, maybe,” Blue returns to her sketch. “I wouldn’t remember. Every time I overthink that stuff I feel kind of weird.”

You widen your eyes.

“You feel like there’s static in your head, right?” You question her eagerly. “I’m not the only one?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s static per se, but it depends,” Blue shrugs, concentrating on sketching the curvature of her hips. “I’ve felt more of a pins and needles feeling personally. Mostly my first time here when I was still getting used to things.”

“That’s kind of why it’s better not to think too hard,” Three chimes in, leaning away from her paper. She nudges Two slightly. “Your turn.”

“I find it really weird that we know certain things but not others,” you admit. “I’ve been seeing things around here that I recognize but don’t know why. I can name things but not their origin. I don’t know time or place, I’m bad with numbers…I don’t know, I feel kind of dumb sometimes.”

“It’s fine if you do,” Three tells you with a slight smile. “We don’t need to be smart down here. We can just focus on enjoying ourselves with all the stuff we have lying around. I like to watch movies and make stuff, but I sometimes like to look at the flowers in the garden or read. There’s a lot of nice books with interesting stories, but I haven’t read nearly as many as Eight has.”

“Yeah, Eight’s pretty harmless so long as he has his nose in a book,” Two laughs. “He doesn’t read a lot of storybooks though, other than here and there. He likes learning, so he reads a lot of textbooks. I think that’s pretty boring, but to each their own.”

“I’m surprised they even have them around with how little they like us knowing about the outside world,” Blue chimes in, moving onto sketching her legs. “You know they scratch out dates and stuff on everything, right?”

“They do the same with textbooks,” Three adds. “And not just with dates—pretty much anything that can tell you more about the outside world than they want you knowing. Footage in films gets altered too. There’s a lot of stuff that gets censored.”

“I did notice it the other day,” you mention. “It’s…kind of unsettling. But it’s not like you couldn’t do something like count the days and keep track of time yourself, right?”

“That’s probably the worst thing you could do!” Two cracks up with a shake of his head. His sister’s turn ends, and he takes his pencil and begins to add flipper feet to the creature on the paper. “If you count the days, you pay attention to how long you’ve been here. If you do that, you’ll probably start to feel pretty bad. Your mental state would eventually decline as you become self-aware of your own captivity.”

“I feel bad for Cyrus because of that reason,” Three takes a hand and puts is over her other arm, pulling it in toward her in a shy, childish manner. “He said he counted for a while one time, but it just made him unhappy, so he stopped.”

“He didn’t even make it past a week before he forced himself to,” Two adds. He taps his sister on the thigh to signal her that his turn is over, so the frail girl leans over the page next. “At least that’s what he said. But he mostly told us never to count the days, for our own sake.”

As if on cue, you suddenly here the intercom above you chime up, with Mom’s voice calling out with her sultry voice,

“One, please come to the gate. You have a visitor.”

A part of you feels disappointed that you didn’t get to catch him today, but you figure you’ll ask him more about the facility later. You wonder where Cyrus had been while you were here in the crafts room, but know you can’t try to catch him now. Silence falls as the intercom shuts off, and you wince at the memory of Mom’s voice. You clearly remember how she spoke to you before, and you imagine her doing the same to Cyrus. This makes you uncomfortable.

“But anyway…” Three takes advantage of the break in conversation, evidently not wanting to talk about the announcement or the less than pleasing aspects of facility life more. “…It’s not so bad here when you get to do stuff like this. I made a few of those people against the wall over there.”

You look around again to examine the carboard people more closely.

“All by yourself?” You ask her. Three shakes her head.

“No, sometimes the others helped. The one behind you was actually built by me and Five. We named her Sweet Pea.”

You turn your body around to see a cardboard frame with multicolored papier mâché hair and purple, glittery freckles. There are googly eyes and glasses on its face made of purple pipe cleaner, and the clothes it’s wearing are just drawn on it in marker.

“We’re not great artists here, but we like to have fun and do little things together,” Three smiles as she finishes her next portion of the drawing. “It keeps us connected. Even if we’re all together doing something not everyone likes, it makes us happy just to be around each other.”

“Maybe you and I can build something another time,” You encourage her kindly. The young girl smiles and nods in response, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Sure, all of us are connected except for, you know, Eight and Nine,” Blue interrupts the moment. She doesn’t sound bitter, but radiates the same level of indifference you saw in her when you entered the rec room for the first time. “I mean I guess they haven’t been here as long as the rest of us, but they’re still really distant.”

“Well, Nine’s not so bad, actually,” you try to defend the girl. “I talked with her a bit not too long ago, and she seems way more down to Earth about things than I expected.”

You look down.

“And I guess even Eight can be okay. I think he does care about some things, it’s just that he chooses not to participate. He seems to be pretty similar to violet with his whole bitterness thing, but I’d imagine he has a good reason. He just takes it to an extreme level, whereas even Violet tones it down. But…it is a little annoying.”

“We really don’t talk to him much anyway,” Two shrugs, leaning over to add another part to the picture. “And I wouldn’t know too much about Nine. She doesn’t seem bad, she just hardly ever talks to us. We just assume she wants her space, so we give it to her.”

“Maybe you should talk to her a little and see if she wants to be a part of the group more," you encourage him. "If you don’t say anything, she probably won’t either. She seems a little straightforward about that kind of kind of thing and won’t act unless she sees the opportunity or is actively given a chance to participate. At least that’s the impression I got.”

“Damn, you really spent more time with her in one day than any of us have our entire time here, huh?” Blue chuckles, making you blush. “I’m probably exaggerating, but you know what I mean.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” Two ponders as he mulls your previous statement over. “We can all try to talk to her, but that’s if we all get together. Otherwise we’d have to talk to her one by one or something.”

“As long as it’s not in the gym,” Blue laughs. “But It doesn’t bother me much that she usually plays naked. I mean, let’s face it, we’re not strangers about that here.”

Three winces as she hears this, so Blue drops the subject respectfully.

“I’d be willing to talk to her a lot more if she had stuff to say, but she’s super blunt about a lot of things.”

“Is that bad?” You ask her.

Blue ponders this, but doesn’t give you much of an answer, simply shrugging her shoulders and continuing to draw. The room becomes silent, and you decide to reach for a piece of paper to see whether you can draw or not like Blue. Much to your disdain, you are unable to. You attempt to draw one of the cardboard people behind the twins, but can’t even manage to glide the pencil smoothly across the page the way Blue can. What should have been a silly drawing turned into a plethora of shaky and jagged lines.

“Looks like a Picasso drawing but without any of the charm,” Blue remarks as she peeks over your shoulder. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, though.”

Two and Three both give a bit of a laugh at your expense, but you admit it’s nice to see them happy. Talking to them like this does make you feel better about their relationship, less discomforted about everything you’ve been told by Two.

The four of you spend the rest of your time in the crafts room, primarily working with images on paper. You try to work with paints, but find that you don’t know how to paint any more than you can draw. You admit, though, that it’s very relaxing. Blue also introduces you to things like charcoal and colored pencils, since you realize you’re unfamiliar with using them, but know what they are. Two and Three remain with their pencil drawings, eventually creating a flurry of random creatures on several different pages, with different types of limbs, tails, wings, and faces.

Eventually, you hear the intercom chime in yet again, making your heart jump as you were in the midst of concentrating on drawing with colored pencils.

“Ten, you have a visitor,” You hear Mom’s voice call for you. Hearing her voice say your number brings back the unpleasantness you felt when you approached her door earlier today. It almost sends shivers down your spine as you remember the events from yesterday, but you know you have no time to waste. Whoever it is that wants you will expect you shortly.

“Hm, that sucks. I was actually having fun.” Blue exhales slowly. “But I’ll see you another time!” She gives you a slight wave, so nonchalant about you casually being plucked by a doctor for sex that it’s almost disturbing. However, you remember how little she thinks of the doctors’ antics as wrong now that she has convinced herself that it’s fun to be toyed with by them.

Three does not look up at you, nor does she say anything after the announcement. However, you can see her trembling slightly as she holds her pencil in her frail hands. From where you stand, you can also catch sight of Two reaching under the table subtly to grab hold of his sister’s other hand, squeezing it in an attempt to comfort her. He does try to look up at you, but he says nothing, instead giving you a bit of a knowing and sympathetic nod before you head out of the crafts room.

As you make your way toward the white gate, you’re met with two unfamiliar faces eagerly awaiting you. Both belong to rather thin young men, but the one to your left has slightly broader shoulders, whereas the one on the right has more rounded and drooping shoulders. He has somewhat honey-toned, light tan skin, his complexion soft and smooth, peppered delicately with brown freckles. He has a bit of a rounded, oval face, a far gentler jaw than your other visitors, and curly chestnut hair, even moreso than someone like Five’s. His eyes are amber, radiating softness as they gaze upon your face. They’re hidden behind rather large round glasses, yet they don’t frame the man’s face in an unbecoming way. It’s almost charming, the way he looks at you with a gentle, close-lipped smile.

As the gate shuts behind you, the man to your left softly reaches toward you and takes your hand in his, lifting it up to give the back of it a light, gentle kiss, making you blush. He has powdery pale skin with apricot undertones, and it feels smooth to the touch against your fingers. His eyes are a light brown color, and his medium-length, fair blond hair compliments his skin nicely.

You notice that neither man has his lab coat on, and you can only see the clothes they likely wear beneath them. The tan young man is wearing dark brown suspenders over a white medium-sleeve shirt, with khaki pants to match. His partner, however, has a splash of color to his outfit, donning a mulberry long-sleeve shirt with a white silk tie and white slacks to match. He has a simple look, yet it draws your eye to him more. He almost looks regal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ten,” the paler man greets you warmly, his voice low but gentle. “My name is Nathaniel Miles, and I’ve heard very much about you from your doctor. I’ve been wanting to see you ever since he spoke of you.”

He drops your hand gently and motions to the man to his left.

“This is my associate, Jonathan Giordano,” he introduces him instead of letting his partner do so himself. “I work with him closely for many of my visits. He’ll take good care of you as I will.”

Nathaniel gently cups his hand under your chin, his fingers light as they smoothly glide along your flesh. You’re forced to look him in the eyes as he does this, and he gazes into you expressionlessly, yet in such a way that isn’t discomforting or cold. You sense a warmness in his gaze even as he remains fixated on you without an obvious emotion.

“You are lovely,” he compliments. He then addresses his partner without breaking his gaze into you. “Isn’t she?”

Jonathan nods, his lips curving upward more in response.

“Very much so,” is his only retort. He has a very gentle, light voice, fitting of his more delicate frame. He doesn’t seem to be the type to act or speak unless he is spoken to. You wonder just what kind of role he plays with his partner. Evidently, he still has authority over you, but Nathaniel is very much in control of the both of you, and you can sense this without even having to know more about them. You aren’t sure if you’re picking up on things faster as you spend more time at the facility, or if you're just naturally able to do so.

“For the purposes of our visit, I have but one thing to ask,” Nathaniel interrupts your thoughts and places a thumb delicately over your lips, curling his fingers under your chin.

“You will refer to me as your prince.”

Chapter 12: Visit Five - Princess

“Jonathan’s name will remain the same, but his role is to be servile to me,” Nathaniel explains to you as Jonathan begins to undress from behind him. He lowers his suspender straps and begins to undo their clipping on his belt, but you look away from him as he begins to undo his pants, blushing. You’ve been seated gently on the side of your main examination room bed, an unexpected change to your usual being laid down. You remain with your knees hanging over the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap as you listen to Nathaniel’s instructions. He does not appear to be undressing, which you find odd. Instead, he stands before you, one hand in his front pocket, the other in a resting position by his hips.

“You may refer to him by name if you wish, but you will refer to me as I had instructed,” he continues, gazing into you as you try to avoid reciprocating his glance. “You’ll be my dearest princess for this encounter, a soft young thing who rescinds from my touch, a maiden plucked from your home to be wed and bred against your will.”

Nathaniel moves his hand from his pocket and drops it to his side.

“It’s an easy role for someone so new to this kind of thing to play. It shouldn’t be hard for you to act the part, what with your innocence still intact. So, I expect you to do it well. Do you have any questions?”

You look up at him finally, with wide and confused eyes.

“What…do you want me to do?” You ask, fumbling with your hands uncertainly. You’re honestly not sure what to do with your hands free. You’ve never much had the option. “What am I supposed to do or say…?”

Nathaniel remains unmoving, his eyes fixated on you.

“You lie back and let us touch you,” he tells you simply. “We take charge of your body and you comply. There is no difference in how things are done with us other than that you are playing a role according to our preference. I, in turn, will play the role I desire, and Jonathan will play his. I want you to be my princess today, so you will comply. If you don’t, I’ll play rough with you. You seem like the kind of girl who wants to avoid this, so do well to.”

You look away, blushing, but agree to his terms. You still don’t know what to do, but you suppose he wants you to act resistant, as you have been with most everyone else. The fact that he asks you to do this explicitly makes you wonder if he knows you are slipping in your resilience and of just what he and the other doctors know about you, but you don’t want to think too much about this.

Suddenly, you notice Nathaniel walk toward where Jonathan is and lean back against the wall, crossing his arms and watching you intently. He has not broken his focus on you since he entered the room, watching you like a hawk. As he settles, you can see that Jonathan has completely disrobed and is entirely naked. You are almost embarrassed seeing him this way, as it is the first time a man has completely removed his clothes in front of you. For as much as Yosuke seemed eager to rape you, even he hadn’t done this yet, much to your surprise.

Jonathan has a gentle, limber body, his skin evenly toned across most of it aside from a few darker patches where his unaroused genitals are. He is completely clean of body hair, even in his legs and arms. He looks less masculine than most of the other men who have toyed with you, but still has a gentle boyish charm about him for someone who you think might be a bit older than you. With his glasses off, he seems even more alluring than before, a soft-bodied young man with an endearing face.

“Jonathan,” Nathaniel calls out, still fixating his eyes on you. The slender young man beside him looks on at your “prince” eagerly and awaits his word.

“Please make my princess wet for me.”

The order makes your heart jump, and you feel yourself pressing your knees together even more tightly at the idea of being touched.

“Of course, my prince,” Jonathan obliges his “superior”. You can do no more than watch the tan-skinned young man walk delicately toward you, a gentle and eager smile on his face. You shut your eyes and wince as you half expect him to force you down on the bed, but he doesn’t. Instead, you feel his touch from behind you, as he climbs onto the bed and sits on his knees so that he is positioned just behind your body. The sensation of his warmth on your back as he guides you back toward him gently with both of his arms makes you blush. You feel a warm hand gently cup one side of your head delicately as he pulls you back toward his left side, forcing the right side of your neck to be exposed. From where Jonathan is, you are able to smell a sweet, almost spiced odor from his body as whatever cologne he has on is wafted into your face. It’s a warm kind of smell which you almost find alluring.

Jonathan begins to gently and slowly kiss the nape of your neck, a sensation that makes you want to jump in surprise. You find, though, that Jonathan’s got a hold on your head and hair to keep your body pulled to the side, allowing him to keep kissing you without interruption. He slides his other hand under your right arm and reaches around to grope over your breast, which remains clothed still as you have not yet been undressed.

You keep pressing your knees together as you’re forced to be touched and kissed by Jonathan. The combination of his gentle lips on your neck and the rubbing motion of his palm and fingers against your breast and nipple make you feel woozy, and you let out a slight whimper as you feel yourself growing warm and aroused at the sensations. You grab each of Jonathan’s wrists with each hand as you try to pull him away, but find that in the position he has you in, you aren’t able to. Even if you could give a good try, you find that he is much stronger than he looks as he resists your struggling and keeps your body in place.

You can feel his now-erect cock rubbing up against your lower back as he holds you, but you aren’t able to get away from him whatsoever. Any time you try to scoot forward, he simply pulls you back into him.

While still clutching the naked young man’s wrists, you shift your gaze to Nathaniel who is continuing to stare at you with his hawkish eyes, refusing to take them off of you as he watches you be tormented by his partner’s groping and kissing. You are unable to tell if he’s getting aroused by observing you, but you can’t bring yourself to think about it for long as you suddenly feel Jonathan move his hand from your breast and down toward your thighs, which you keep pressed together.

Jonathan gives a boyish chuckle, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver down your spine as he still has his lips on your neck. You try to pull his hand away from your thighs as he begins to lift up the hem of your gown, but you fail to stop him. Easily, his hand makes its way into your panties. Jonathan’s fingers inch over the whole of your vulva, but one wriggles its way directly over your slit. The sensation of Jonathan’s warmth almost makes you want to separate your legs for him willingly, but, you refuse, still letting out a few moans as the man continues to kiss you and dig his fingers toward your pussy.

“Stop!” You cry, tugging at his wrist helplessly, but he refuses you. With hardly any difficulty, Jonathan has finally reached where he wants and begins to rub you gently with one finger, moving up and down your slit while you are powerless to pull him away. You find yourself becoming more and more aroused with his touch, but you feel embarrassed having Nathaniel watching you intently from across the room.

Jonathan moves his finger up toward your clit and begins to rub it gently. As he does so, he lets go of your head and returns you to an upright position. Carelessly, you let go of his left wrist, and this allows him to wrap his free arm around you to grope your breasts more. You find your left arm bent and locked in place as Jonathan’s bends around it, his grip on you tight as he reaches to play with your left breast this time. You throw your head up and give a slight gasp and moan as you feel his fingers in your panties, forcing your clit to take his warmth and feel his gentle touch.

He continues to kiss you, pressing his lips against the back of your neck with short kisses before moving to the left side. When he reaches your nape, he gives it a slight nibble, a sensation that causes you to blush and tremble slightly in response.

“Please oblige your prince,” he coos in your ear. “You must be good for our highness. He only wants you to be ready for his cock. You should be thankful.”

He continues his kissing, rubbing, and groping, his touch warm and gentle, but his grip forceful, not allowing you to fight back whatsoever. You start to want Jonathan’s fingers inside you, yet he continues to rub your clit until you’re utterly dizzy. You find yourself leaning back into the young man, unable to keep yourself steady and sitting up with various sensations sweeping over your body at once.

With this, Jonathan moves two fingers down to touch your pussy. You want to push into him so that his fingers enter you, but you try to hold yourself back, not wanting to feel shameful for wanting to be taken. As the young man’s finger feels how wet you’ve become, he calls out to Nathaniel.

“My prince, she’s ready for you.”

With a light gasp as the man retracts his hand from your panties and away from your clit, you look over to see Nathaniel push off of the wall and unfold his arms. He moves to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, watching as you wriggle your legs together slightly as Jonathan continues to kiss your neck and grope your breast.

Nathaniel exposes his powdery chest to you as he undoes his shirt, a bright thing free of hair the way Jonathan’s chest is. Slowly, you watch the man remove his shirt, then move to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, exposing his grey boxers to you which have the outline of his hardened cock from behind them. Seeing this answers your question from just earlier, but does little to assuage you about what you’re about to endure as you watch him slowly remove his underwear.

Nathaniel removes his shoes and lets the lower half of his clothes drop to the floor, his sizable cock now exposed to you and raised with anticipation. Quietly, he begins to walk toward you, and as he does, you feel Jonathan release the grip on your breast and instead grab your shirt with both hands from behind you. With a forceful pull, he rips the thin fabric apart. Your gown produces a loud tearing sound as you watch in horror at how easily it rips. Jonathan does not hesitate to keep ripping until your entire gown has been split open, your bare breasts and white panties now completely exposed to Nathaniel, who is now standing just in front of you.

You try to grab Jonathan’s arm to fruitlessly attempt to pull him away, but he instead grabs both of your wrists, preventing you from struggling anymore. You instinctively try to kick Nathaniel away as he reaches toward your legs, but this leaves him with an opening, and he forces his hands between your thighs to spread them. You find yourself helpless to stop his strong grasp as he opens you up, and he steps in between your legs before you have a chance to shut them. Unable to stop him, you shut your eyes and look away, blushing.

“You look beautiful,” your prince calls to you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to face up at him as he towers above you. “Don’t hide away, my princess. I want to see you.”

Jonathan continues to kiss your neck, making you gasp as you’re forced to look into Nathaniel’s light brown eyes. He remains expressionless, but you can tell at this closeness that he is enamored by you, showing it purely through his now-softened gaze. You can smell a semi-sweet and clean odor from his body, a fresh kind of smell. His odor is not particularly strong, but it is light enough to adequately compliment and pair with his powdery complexion.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Y-yes…” you admit shakily, feeling the heat of his body against your trembling thighs. “I…”

You don’t know what else to say, but you shiver slightly as you feel Nathaniel’s hand release your chin and glide over your cheek, brushing a bit of hair out of your face.

“Don’t be. You’re lovely.”

You blush.

“Jonathan, keep my princess steady,” the prince then commands his, you suppose, servant. “And keep her head forward. I would like to watch her precious face as I rape her.”

“Yes, my prince,” is Jonathan’s only response as he stops kissing you to oblige the command. He moves his arm around you, allowing both of your arms to be free, yet keeps you in place by tightly hugging you close to him. He positions himself so that his arm is snug against your upper abdomen, pressing against your breasts and practically presenting them to Nathaniel, your prince. With one hand, you instinctively grasp Jonathan’s wrist as he moves to forcefully tilt your head upward, but you still are unable to pull him away as you feel his strong, warm hands locking your chin in place. You try to shake your head away, but are unable to break Jonathan’s grip on you. You grab onto his arm with your other hand, but mostly for support as you feel yourself slipping on the edge of the bed slowly.

Nathaniel, or rather your prince, is now grabbing onto your right leg and pulling it up, forcing your crotch against his. You can feel his cock through your panties, a strong thing with a thick tip, dripping and glossy with precum.

“You are truly wet, my princess,” your prince teases you, rubbing a finger over your lips playfully with his free hand while gently gliding the head of his shaft along the cloth of your underwear. “It feels good just pressed against your pretty little panties like this. You must truly crave my princely cock.”

You try to look away in embarrassment, but Jonathan keeps your chin in place, and you are forced to gaze into your prince’s longing, lustful eyes as he moves his hand down to pull your underwear to the side. You are forced to spread your other leg open as you feel the head of Nathaniel’s cock press against your labia, practically knocking at it desirously.

“Please don’t,” you beg your prince, half out of resistance to being watched intently as you’re fucked, and half-succumbing to your role as Nathaniel’s unwilling princess. Regardless, your prince does not listen, and instead separates the lips of your labia and pushes his way in slowly, forcing you to feel every inch of him entering you. Your body still seems to resist him somewhat, tightening around his cock with each push inward, but he persists regardless, giving a deep, breathy groan as he makes his way into you.

As your prince enters your wet pussy, you feel Jonathan’s soft lips again kissing at your neck, making you even wetter as his loving pecks are coupled with your penetration. You let out a soft moan as you feel yourself wanting more and more, even though you’ve just barely been entered. You try to remind yourself that you don’t want this, but you almost forget to listen. Somehow, the slow buildup to your rape has caused you to respond more wildly than you thought you would.

“Don’t struggle,” Your prince commands you as he feels your body start to jerk around in response. “You’ll get hurt if you do.”

He leans forward to steady himself, positioning his free hand on the bed and gripping your leg tightly in the other. His face is just above yours, but your prince does not attempt to kiss you. Instead, he stares deeply into your eyes as he begins to pump ever so gently into you, easing his way in and out of your pussy almost like a gentleman at first.

“You feel perfect, my princess,” Your moaning prince compliments you. His hot breath that blows into your face has an almost fruity undertone to it.

You enjoy the slow ride for a moment, feeling dizzy and lustful as you’re slowly and gently pumped into. But, as you feel your prince’s cock sliding in and out of you more easily, he gradually begins to quicken his pace. Your pussy now feels more relaxed as it takes his thrusts, and you find your body being driven wild as the thrusting comes more quickly. You moan and groan slightly more now, letting out occasional gasps as Jonathan kisses and nips at your neck and chest more passionately in response to your heightened pleasure. He lets out a few boyish and gentle, slow moans as he does this, making your heart flutter.

Your prince begins to grunt rapidly as he pumps into you, now pounding you in with force while still clutching and raising your left leg which falls downward at the knee. As you’re fucked, your loosely hanging lower leg and foot bounce up and down in rhythm with each thrust. You can feel yourself being pushed backward against Jonathan with each pump, and on your lower back, you feel the head of his cock each time, with him rubbing it subtly and gently against you purposefully to get himself off while he helps his prince rape you.

Soon, you hear nothing but collective moans, grunts, groans, and slapping noises as your prince’s cock thrusts deeply and wetly into you with a rapid pace. You begin to pant with each thrust, feeling like a literal toy being thrown around at the mercy of your prince.

“My princess,” Nathaniel calls out to you between thrusts and heavy grunts. “I’m going to come. Be sure to take every drop of my princely seed.”

Jonathan also begins to moan as he feels himself push up against your back, his cock eager to release its juices onto you from behind you. He tightens his grip on your body, his fingers slipping slightly down your neck as he keeps your head focused on your prince. You can feel his breath on your neck as he begins to moan slowly and more loudly, his lusting voice penetrating your ear.

You begin to yelp as you feel yourself beginning to orgasm, and your prince pumps even harder into you as he watches your mouth open and your cheeks grow red.

“M-my prince…please!” You cry as you begin to come, unable to think properly about why.

Your pleasurable reaction seems to arouse your prince more and more, and he cannot help but let out a loud grunt as he gives one final, powerful thrust and comes into you, spurting his semen inside of your body while gripping both your leg and the sheets of the bed with his hands tightly. Meawhile, Jonathan ejaculates onto your back, letting out a soft, shaking, breathy moan as he tightens his grip even more around your body this time. You feel his cum dribble on your lower back and down over the curvature of your butt, with him gently pushing himself against your back more while he continues to come and moan. As the both of you are in your climaxes, your prince pumps a few more times, sharply and fiercely, burrowing his cock into your pussy and forcing his semen into you while you finish.

“You’ve performed beautifully,” your prince grunts in your ear, kissing your cheek forcefully while heavy breaths escape his nose and mouth. “But I’ve not finished yet. You still need to be filled with seed.”

He slowly removes his wet cock from inside you, letting your juices and his dribble down onto the bed. Carefully, he lets down your leg and stands back up, and you can only watch him as he stares intently at you, his penis still erect and dripping.

“Jonathan, lay her down,” he commands his servant. “I want a pillow under her body.”

“Of course,” Jonathan obliges, releasing your body. You wrap your now-free arms around you and close your legs tightly, trying to cover yourself up after being violated and feeling shameful for having fallen into your princess role for these men. You can hear Jonathan shuffle off of the bed from behind you, and with his warmth gone, you can more clearly feel the cum on your backside as the cool air of the room hits you there.

Gently, Jonathan puts a plush pillow from the end of the bed by your backside and guides you back with warm, soft hands to lie across the bed, much to your surprise. You half expected to be laying along the bed entirely, but your prince seems to want you this way instead. With tender care, your prince grabs your hips and raises them, allowing Jonathan to slide the pillow beneath you.

“Please invite your prince into your body, my princess,” Jonathan asks of you with a gentle, darling tone. “He only wants you to feel good, and for you to make him feel good in return.”

He bends down to give your cheek a kiss as you lie there with your head hanging on the other side of the bed. You blush, but hesitate.

“Spread your legs,” your prince commands from before you, tightening his grip on your hips. “You can fight as much as you like, but I shall have you. The prince always gets what he wants.”

With a soft chuckle, Jonathan leans over to grab your hands and pull them off of your body where you’ve wrapped them, pinning your wrists to each side of you, flat on the bed. You can see his erect and wet penis in front of your face, but you try your best to look away from it.

“Shall I feed her, my prince?” The soft servant eagerly asks his prince with gentle delight, noticing you trying to avoid the thing in your face.

“Please do,” is your prince’s only response. “I want her to accept you as I do, my most loyal servant.”

“I am grateful, my prince” Jonathan smiles. He removes one of his hands from your wrist to grab his cock, pressing it against your lips and begging silently for your mouth to open. The phallic thing spreads the leftover cum from his orgasm over your mouth as it rubs against you, but you still refuse to let it in.

However, you feel your prince give one of your outer thighs a hard slap, taking you by surprise since you were unable to see it coming in the position you’re in. You gasp with pleasure at the stinging feeling, and Jonathan takes advantage of this and forces his way inside you, moaning as he does. You try to reach up past your head, putting your palm against Jonathan’s soft and smooth stomach to try pushing him away, but he cheekily grabs your wrist, giving a soft laugh, and pulls it back to the bed, pinning you while he moves deeper inside your throat. You attempt to cry out, but your groans are muffled by the slick, warm member invading your mouth and lips.

As Jonathan begins to slowly thrust, you feel your prince’s hands glide from your elevated hips to your inner thighs, forcing them to separate so that he can enter you yet again. You try to fight him, but find that he easily overpowers you and keeps you spread for him. You feel strange in this position, and even stranger being unable to see what your prince is doing to you, relying only on his touch and voice.

Again, he moves in toward you, and once you are unable to refuse him anymore. He moves his hands away and presses them against either of your wrists, taking Jonathan’s place over them. His servant stands up again and moves his hands away from your wrists now that your prince has taken control, instead gently holding each side of your head, keeping it steady as he thrusts himself deeper and deeper into your throat. You almost gag as he fucks your mouth, but you are able to keep yourself together for the most part.

You suddenly feel your labia being pushed into by the head of your prince’s cock as he wiggles into you without using his hands. He seems to know where to go and how to handle you, so he is able to do this without too much trouble. You are forced to endure him as he enters you yet again, giving a hefty grunt as he pushes his way through your pussy. You are still dripping wet, and after being fucked once, you are able to take him much more easily this time, though you can still feel your body wrapping around his dick with pleasure. Something about the way you’ve been tilted upward toward him makes you respond to him almost twice as strongly, with his cock gliding into you and putting pressure in all the right places as it begins to thrust in and out of you again and again, refusing to stop.

You can’t help but loudly moan at the sensation, unfamiliar to this position but susceptible to its pleasures. You haven’t yet felt a cock in both of your orifices simultaneously before, only ever one or the other. You try to fight against the pleasure, but can’t bring yourself to do anything but succumb to the rape of your mouth and pussy by your prince and his darling servant. You hear the both of them sharing grunts and pleasured moans as they pump into you, and even though you try to struggle, your wrists are pinned tightly to the bed with your prince’s strong grip, and your head is kept tightly in place by Jonathan’s warm and forceful grasp. You begin to let out wild moans and cries as you’re ridden from both ends, your holes being pumped into against your will. This reaction makes the both of your assailants pump even harder, completely turned on by your resistance and your vocal reactions.

“My prince,” Jonathan pants, throwing his head up and groaning between thrusts. “May I please come? I’m so close…”

“Not yet,” is your prince’s breathy response. “The both of you will come when I want you to.”

“Yes, my prince,” Jonathan continues to grunt and moan, pumping into your throat less wildly while trying to hold back his orgasm. You continue to be ridden by both men, and you feel your body shake and shiver with pleasure as you feel your prince’s cock thrust deeply into you. His pace goes faster and faster until he is unable to produce any more words, only grunting and panting with each pump of your precious princess pussy.

“I’m almost there,” he finally tells both you and Jonathan, and in response, the both of you gasp and moan, almost as If commanded in some way to. Jonathan tries his hardest to control his orgasm, but you can hear in his soft moans that he wants deeply to feed you his cum. Your prince continues his thrusting and now grunts roughly with each push into you, with each forceful pump.

“I’m coming, my princess!” He finally begins to yell, smashing into you so furiously that you hear the cloudy sounds of the fabric and cushion of the pillow beneath you clearly, your body slapping against it with each powerful, princely thrust.

As soon as his prince allows him, Jonathan lets loose a loud, boyish, and yelping moan, pumping his throbbing member deeply and more rapidly into your throat and expelling a large quantity of thick semen into your mouth and esophagus, forcing you to swallow instinctively at the sensation with loud gulps and nasally groans.

“My princess, my prince!” He cries wildly, his voice piercing you with pleasure. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

You feel your prince thrust more into you in response to his servant’s ecstasy and yours, and you can feel every ounce of his milky semen pump into you cunt against your will. You try to shake away, but your prince keeps you pinned tightly, forcing you to take every bit of his ejaculate, forcing you to climax more with every thrust. You yelp and yell muffedly as you come simultaneously with your prince and his servant, your cries gurgling as you’re still being fed Jonathan’s hot cum. After an intense orgasm from all three of you, things finally begin to settle down again, and both men thrust more gently and slowly as they finish inside of you, panting with pleasure at their release.

With no more words, your prince releases your wrists and instead leans against you, kissing your neck lovingly and gently as you begin to feel Jonathan’s cock slide slowly out of you. You feel him press up against the tip of your tongue as his head slides out, a trail of cum following from your lips. Your face is now glazed over, and you are unable to move your head up, remaining with it tilted back as Jonathan releases his hold on you.

Your prince continues to stay inside you as he kisses you, wrapping his strong and warm arms you tightly while Jonathan kneels down to kiss you on the mouth, moaning gently while he does so. You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker as you succumb to their post-orgasm treatment, their delicate tongues and lips gliding around your neck and mouth with darling care.

“You were lovely, Ten,” Nathaniel finally breaks his role as he compliments you. “I see why Yosuke chose you. Something about you is so remarkable, I’m almost jealous that you’re his.”

“You’re a precious thing,” Jonathan pulls away from your lips and moans into your ear, brushing his hand against your cheek. “We might visit you again after this.”

“Yes” Nathaniel agrees, moving in to kiss your neck more as he exhales heavily from his nose. “So long as you do as we ask, you’ll always be treated well with us, even if my assistant and I aren’t together with you.”

“Please…stop,” you weakly beg, your pleasure subsiding as you remember that you don’t want to be used or fawned over by such perverted people. Though you want to resist the doctors’ touching of you, you feel that you are unable to, helpless to the men’s kissing.

Slowly, Nathaniel finally pulls his cock out of you, and your legs shiver as he does so. He pulls away from your body, releasing his grip on you and finally letting you go. He is the first to get cleaned and dressed, with Jonathan continuing to play with your mouth using his tongue and lips. When his associate has finished, he finally pulls away and moves to the opposite side of the room to re-collect his clothes and dress again.

“Yosuke arranged for me to visit you today,” Nathaniel calls out to you as you’re still sprawled out over the bed, so taken by your pleasure that you can’t move anymore. “He wanted to help you feel good with something a little gentler after the last few people who saw you. You should do well to thank him when you see him. Jonathan and I are quite popular with the young women here.”

“We’ll be seeing you, little doll,” Jonathan adds with a gentle giggle as he places his glasses on his head. You hear both men leave the room, but you remain on your bed, awaiting the inevitable wave of exhaustion as the odorless drug you now know about is pumped into your room. Within moments, you feel yourself growing weak, the drug now working on you as it’s intended to. Soon, your eyelids begin to droop, and you succumb to sleep yet again.

Chapter 13: Rest Six - Held

In your sleep, you feel warmth and comfort pressing itself all around you. You dream in blends of color, of blooming flowers and soft, billowing sheets. Around you there is nothing but a flurry of shades and hues of every kind, a garden of vividness, an enriching and enchanting backdrop that whirls and whirls until you are enveloped in each tone. You feel like dancing as color swirls around your body, your bare feet stepping gently around as you move in rhythm to each twirling shade. Your vision begins to blur as you can no longer make out any object, and you feel yourself succumb to the dance of your colorful whirlwind. You fall into a warm bed of soft touches and feel yourself gently lowered into an abyss of blackness, and it’s then that your eyes finally begin to flutter open.

As you groggily take your first breaths of the day, you are able to smell a familiar sweet and musky scent. You try to move but realize that your body is pressed tightly against something warm, your arms folded in front of you and your palms pressed against another body. As you regain your senses from your vivid dream, you notice that you’re being held in your bed by your doctor, his coat off and his blue cloth-covered arms wrapped tightly around you. He’s pressed your head into his chest, and you can feel one of his legs resting in between the both of yours, making you blush when you are able to fully feel that he has you lying with him this way. You feel his warm chest rise and fall as he breathes, but he doesn’t seem to be asleep. You can also feel the warmth of your bodies being combined from underneath your comforter. Though you can’t see where you are with your face buried in Yosuke’s chest, you gather that you’re in your bedroom based on only the fact that a blanket is over you.

You’re unsure how to react to being held like this. After last night, you almost welcome a warm embrace, blushing as you remember the endearing words of Nathaniel and Jonathan. You remember Blue having mentioned something about Doctor Miles when she first met you, and you almost want to admit that she was right. Even with him being as perverted as the other doctors here, you can’t deny that you practically melted in Nathaniel’s hands with how he treated you—him and his associate both. You almost find yourself feeling guilty for thinking about the other doctors while you’re being held by your own, but you don’t understand why this is.

Despite everything, you admit to yourself that being held warmly rather than fucked raw is a nice change of pace. The warmth of Yosuke’s body makes you feel almost happy, and you almost want to hold him right back as you’re kept close with a tender embrace. You feel as though you shouldn’t let yourself like this kind of thing, but you find that you’ve been craving a touch like this. Something about the coupling of Yosuke’s holding your hand yesterday and having been treated like a princess by two men is almost making you want to give in. You wonder if Blue feels this way, if she gives in because it feels so good, because there are times in between the rough sex where some doctors choose to be gentle and loving.

“Are you awake, my pet?” You hear Yosuke’s voice calmly call you, the vibrations of his voice felt clearly on your head as you’re held against his chest. You feel his embrace loosen as he shifts back slightly to look down at you. With one hand, he gently takes hold of your chin and tilts your head at him, smiling warmly as he gazes upon your face.

“Good morning, my dear,” he greets you kindly, his voice soothing to your ear. “I haven’t been able to see you like this in a while, so I decided to take the time to hold you while you slept. You looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bring myself to resist your touch.”

He slides his hand over your cheek and holds it warmly, and you can do no more than look into his olive eyes with uncertainty.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He questions with a slight grin. “I wanted you to feel special after having to deal with your mother and one of our other doctors with uncanny interests just before.”

You assume he means the latex man, whose identity you still don’t know and aren’t sure if you want to.

“I…I can’t say,” you tell your doctor, blushing heavily as he gives your cheek a rub. You look away as you say this, not wanting to admit your enjoyment to him, especially because you know he won’t stop teasing you over it if you ever decide to. You continue to try presenting yourself with the same bluntness and resilience as Eight, finding it necessary to do in order to keep your head in sorts, particularly when it comes to dealing with your doctor.

“I can at least say I don’t like being raped constantly,” You tell him with disdain, regaining your confident, barking tone.

“If you gave yourself to us, it wouldn’t be that way,” Yosuke pulls you closer, your breasts pressing against him now. “I know you did have fun last night regardless. Doctor Miles and Doctor Giordano left me with notes about how much they enjoyed you. I was told you participated eagerly.”

You look down, embarrassed, and Yosuke notices this.

“I see,” He smirks knowingly, but says nothing more on the matter. He moves his hand from your cheek and wedges it under your head, petting the back of your head and running his fingers through your hair while he holds you.

“Have you missed me?” He asks you gently. “Or are you enjoying your time with the other doctors even more than you have with me?”

“I didn’t enjoy it,” you lie, balling your fists against your doctor’s chest. “I don’t want to talk about this so casually. Not with you.”

You feel Yosuke rub his thigh against your crotch playfully in response to your snappiness, and you let out a bit of a gasp at the sensation, your heart fluttering and your balled fists tightening. This makes your doctor smirk at you, as he senses your lust welling even with just a slight touch.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to talk,” he coos, still caressing your head. “I can easily start playing with you, my pet.”

“N-no!” you beg him with embarrassment at your response to him, burying your head in his chest. “I don’t want to right now, please. I-I’ll stay in bed with you if you want.”

Yosuke chuckles.

“You try so hard to resist me and yet you break apart with even the slightest touch,” he points out with glee. “You are truly precious, my pet. I adore you.”

“Stop that,” you try to shake him away in frustration, but Yosuke keeps his grasp tightly around you. “Stop talking to me like that!”

“Like what, my pet?”

“Like I’m some kind of an object! I’m a person! All of us numbers are people despite what you may think of us!”

“It’s endearing that you seem to care about it so much,” Yosuke smiles. “You’d like so desperately to be seen as a person, but you have no idea who you even are.”

“I only don’t know because you’ve taken away everything I used to be!” You shoot back, shutting your eyes in anger. “I never asked for this to happen. I don’t even know if you’re telling me the truth about how bad my life was. Every time I think about it I feel numb. I feel angry. Why are you doing this to us?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Yosuke questions in response, still petting your head. “Or at all? You could be happy here if you just let go, you know. Stop fighting yourself and your doctors. Who you are now matters more than who you used to be. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, there is no book of answers, no enlightenment nor revelation to be had. You are who you are now, and you are never going to leave this place. You are ours, and you must comply. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

“Yosuke, I feel like a prisoner here!” you tell him. “You talk so much as if you want to make me happy and feel good, but all I am is a literal slave. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a cage anymore. I want to be let free. I’m tired of constantly being raped and tied up and abused by every one of you. I can’t take it! I don’t want to let go, I don’t want to give in!”

“But you have been, slowly,” Yosuke teases you knowingly, making your heart jump and your face grow red. “You try so desperately to keep up your little façade, but I can sense you starting to fall. There’s no shame in letting yourself do so.”

“I don’t feel like I should,” you scowl. “I can’t blame those that accept it, but I can’t bring myself to.”

“Not yet, but in time, I’m sure.”

His words sting you because you now know that they have the possibility of being true. When you first came to the facility, you refused to believe so. But, with each new visit…

You try to push the thought out of your mind now, growing more and more frustrated as you are forced to face such a possibility. Yosuke senses you growing restless, but refuses to let you go. You remain buried in his chest, your arms pinned, your breasts pressed against his frame. You feel nothing but warmth as he holds you, and you almost want to melt in his arms, to let him comfort you and make you his. However, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, so you try to stay focused. Instead of staying silent, you begin to change the topic of conversation.

“Where…do you go when you’re not here?”

“Is that important?” Yosuke asks you with curiosity. “Or are you asking because you miss me?”

“That’s not it,” you respond with annoyance. “Don’t twist my words.”

Yosuke gently laughs.

“If you must know, I work,” he explains. “I have a function beyond this part of the facility. I don’t exist solely to toy with you or arrange for others to.”

“That doesn’t feel like it’s true.”

“Because you’re living here, with your only frame of reference to anything that happens in the world being tied to your experience here.” Yosuke stops petting your head and moves his hand underneath your pillow, comfortably resting as he holds you.

“For as much as we do here with you, we still have things to do elsewhere,” he continues. “Simply, you’re not allowed to know what we do, partly because it’s not that important anyway. We still operate as a genuine company, so we have to at least put on some kind of a convincing show. We’re not just sex workers, you know. We’re still doctors. Men and women of science and medicine.”

“How does a doctor get twisted up in a fucked-up sex prison like this?” You snappily question, lowering your brows. “Wouldn’t you be happier actually helping patients instead of raping them?”

“I’m happy to do either,” Yosuke remains unmoved by your attempts to throw him aback. He drops his hand to your waist and pulls your lower half closer to him, making you blush harder.

“I love what I do, my dear,” he goes on with a warm smile. “Even if I decided I no longer wanted to be here, which I would never, I couldn’t just leave. It’s not that simple.”

“How…do you mean…?” You admit you hadn’t considered that the doctors here could legitimately face consequences for attempting to leave. You hadn’t even thought of the possibility of a doctor being the one to try leaving, only the workers or the “guests”. Yosuke does not respond at first, pondering just how to answer you. After a brief silence, he merely says,

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He gives a bit of a sigh as he tells you this, his chest falling as he does so. “But don’t forget that I have a superior here. We are above you, but he is above us. That’s as much about it as you need to know.”

Your mind wanders back to the time you woke up at the facility. You remember a deep voice talking to Yosuke when you awoke in his arms, but can recall nothing else.

“Your superior…” you mumble. “Is he who spoke to you before?”

You move your head back and look up at your doctor eagerly, your eyes shining with curiosity. He nods at you, but says nothing about the man.

“It’s better not to ask questions, my pet,” he warns. “Don’t forget that your life can come to an end very quickly here.”

“I thought you wanted to keep us around so badly,” you shoot back. “Why are you so quick to threaten us?”

“We like compliance,” is Yosuke’s only answer. “It’s admittedly easier to find a replacement than it is to keep someone who remains incessant in their desire to fight and pry. This is partly why I want you to accept your place here, among my desire to keep you. You’ll be much safer if you do.”

Your heart jumps a bit as he says this, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you begin to shiver at the idea of being killed and replaced just for being seen as “difficult”. You wonder what kind of man Yosuke’s superior is, but you aren’t sure if it’s worth knowing.

“There’s a reason to be afraid, of course,” Yosuke goes on. “However, I’d prefer it if you don’t think about those reasons. You ought to focus on your pleasure, on your visitors and me. You will be better off doing so. The reason you fight so much is because you yearn to understand something that could be dangerous to know. If you only accept your lust and succumb to us, you will never have to be afraid. Like Four, you might actually find yourself happy and well-treated.”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” you shake your head. “She’s probably only happy because she’s been abused long enough to be convinced that she likes it. I can’t blame her for feeling that way, but I don’t think I want to reach that point.”

“You want to be more like Eight, then?” Yosuke tilts his head. You feel strange talking about the other numbers with him, but you admit you’re somewhat curious to know what he has to say about them.

“He’s stubborn, but I think he’s right about one thing,” you tell your doctor. “I can’t trust you.”

“Are you so sure that you can trust him?” Yosuke grins. “Most of the other numbers seem to keep their distance from him for a reason.”

“I don’t think he’s a bad person,” you try to tell him. “He’s strange if anything, but still a victim like me. I do sometimes find it weird to accept his advice when its coming from someone who…who looks a lot like you.”

“Mm, I’ve been told,” Yosuke sighs. “I’ve been asked many times if he’s my son, but I don’t have children.”

He looks down at you and smiles. “Unless you end up pregnant, of course.”

He moves his arm inward from around your waist and begins to rub your stomach, making you feel uneasy. You want to recoil from his touch, but he immediately slides his hand from under the pillow around your upper body, keeping you from pulling away and forcing you to stay close to him.

“Are you scared of what it will be like?” Your doctor gently questions you, rubbing his fingers over your abdomen on top of your gown. “Or are you scared of what will happen to you if you do end up carrying my child?”

“Are you saying you’ll tell me what happens to pregnant girls?” You ask in an almost demanding manner, slightly trembling at his touch. Yosuke laughs softly.

“Of course not, my dear,” he shakes his head. “I only like to see your face when the topic comes up. It’s very cute. But of course, all of your lovely little faces are. Especially the ones you make when you come.”

You look away, embarrassed at his words.

“I don’t want to hear this now,” you tell him.

“Would you rather feel it?”

“No!” You refuse him, shutting your legs as you feel his hand start to glide down. You can feel your heart fluttering, much to your dismay. “Look, please…I’ll stay here, with you. Just for now, I’ll listen. Just please stay still and don’t touch me.”

“You’ll lie with me like a good girl?” Yosuke questions you. You lower your eyes.

“…Yes,” you tell him in defeat. Yosuke remains silent, but suddenly laughs.

“You think bargaining with me will prevent me from using you?” He continues to touch over your stomach. “How cute you are, my pet. I’m very glad I picked you.”

“Why me at all?!” You demand to know. “You had everyone else at your disposal. Why did you have to bring me into this?”

“I wanted someone special,” your doctor smiles. “The others could certainly stimulate me if I made them, but there’s more to what makes my pleasure than just stimulation alone.”

“You haven’t…hurt anyone else, have you?” you almost regret asking him this, but you find yourself curious.

“Hurt?” Yosuke is unsure what you mean. “I’ve played with most every Number here before at least once. Sad to say that none of them came close to being what I wanted. But I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“You know what I mean,” you scowl. “Hurt doesn’t just come from physical pain. It’s emotional, mental. What you do to me, that hurts.”

“I have not done to anyone else what I’ve done to you, my pet,” your doctor gently promises as he moves in to pet you again. He seems to ignore your comment about him, which almost makes you mad.

“You are my special little doll. I hadn’t found myself quite enjoying anyone else to the extent that I do now until you came along. And unless you leave, I will continue to enjoy only you.”

“What…?”

Yosuke laughs.

“My dear, I’ve touched nobody but you since you arrived,” he tells you. “I adore you too much to want anyone else. When I said you were mine, I meant it.”

You feel your face growing redder and hotter as he admits this to you, but find yourself unable to respond otherwise.

Your doctor pulls his hand away from your abdomen and wraps it around your waist again. He gives a long inhale and exhale, but says nothing more as he holds you. He seems to want you to ponder his remarks, but you don’t feel particularly good about having to do so right now.

“Are you going to keep me here all day?” You question your doctor “I can’t just lay in bed for an entire day. It feels pointless to.”

“You know I could very well keep you here if I wanted,” Yosuke chuckles. “Don’t you enjoy this? I assumed you would.”

“Don’t just assume things of me,” you glower, feeling exposed. “You don’t know what I like.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true, my pet,” your doctor laughs as he presses you tightly against him. “I’ve got quite a good idea of the kinds of things you like, either by experience, or by word-of-mouth.”

“Just because my body reacts a certain way doesn’t mean I like something,” you shoot back. Yosuke says nothing, but ponders this statement over for a moment. You begin to wonder what it is he’s thinking when he suddenly releases his embrace around you, instead turning over on the bed so that he can climb over you.

As he pulls away the comforter on the both of you and tosses it aside, he remains with one leg between the both of yours while the other sits on the outside of your legs. You watch with unease as he kneels over your body. Before you have the chance to push him away, Yosuke grabs both your wrists and pins them tightly on either side of you, the backs of your hands gliding across the sheets of your rosy bed. You are then helpless to stop him as he stares intently at you with his olive eyes, smirking as his hair falls forward around his face and as he watches you struggle against him.

“Do you mean to say you don’t like it when I do this to you?” He teases you, pressing his thigh between your legs as you shake about to try to break away from his grip. “You want to pretend this doesn’t excite you?”

“G-get off!” You cry, trying to fight back desperately but failing to withdraw from your doctor’s grip on your wrists. You try to press your legs together, but are unable to with Yosuke’s knee planted between them.

“Tell me, my dear,” Yosuke ignores you. “Why do you fight against me in particular, yet make no attempt to do so with anyone else? Do you like to play your role as a captive that much with me? Does it excite you to do so?”

“Stop, please!” You beg, looking away. “I told you I don’t like this.”

Yosuke begins to laugh, his lips curved upward in a smirk.

“I don’t believe you,” he says bluntly. “You want this, don’t you?”

“I’m not one single thing like the rest of you,” you shoot back in offense, now staring straight into Yosuke’s eyes with a scowl. “I’m not mentally fucked up and desperate for attention. As long as I can fight you, I will.”

“And only me?” Yosuke teases you with a slight chuckle. “I’m almost flattered. You fight back for me knowing how much fun I think it is to watch you do so.”

“I don’t do it for you!”

“For yourself, then?” Your doctor tilts his head. “But you know that I like it, so why would you continue to play your role so insistently?”

“You like anything that I do,” you wince as you feel Yosuke’s grip tighten around your wrists. You feel anger welling within you, perhaps in response to your denial that you might actually want Yosuke. You wonder if you’re going through the same motions as Eight, that maybe you’re starting to act a little too much like him. But, you have no time to think about it as your perverted doctor hangs his head and laughs in such an amused way that makes your heart jump.

“You aren’t entirely wrong, my pet. No matter what it is you do, I’ll likely enjoy myself. Something about you is so special to me, I can’t possibly resist you.”

He lifts his head up and gazes gently into you with focused eyes. You are unable to adequately read his expression to know what he’s trying to pull, but you don’t want to have to deal with him anymore. Everything about him frustrates you as much as it makes you want him. You refuse to let yourself fall into his hands.

The other doctors can take you as much as they like, but you might never make an emotional connection with them. But with Yosuke, knowing how much you depended on him especially in the beginning, you feel yourself falling hard. It feels more personal with him, and you can’t stand it. You don’t want to have to let him have you, and you don’t want to have to admit to yourself that you silently crave him. Even now, you expect him to move in on you, and you’re mad at yourself for being mad that he isn’t yet.

“You don’t know what you want, do you?” Yosuke calls you out, grinning. “I’ve done what I can to be gentle with you. I admit I’m not as good at playing the gentleman as some other doctors, but I know for a fact that you haven’t entirely disliked the way I’ve treated you. So, tell me what you want, then. Do you want me to be rougher with you and make you submit to me? Or would you prefer I try to be gentler with you?”

“You’re basically asking me if I want to be shot in the head or in the foot,” you wince. “That’s not a choice, because you’re going to get what you want from me no matter what it is I decide.”

“Naturally,” Yosuke responds simply. “So you acknowledge that this is true and still refuse to accept it?”

“I’m never going to accept it,” you shake your head. “I’m not going to let you get in my head the way you want. You can’t just keep doing this and expect me to give into you!”

“Look at yourself, my pet,” Yosuke laughs deeply. “You’re so sensitive to even the slightest of my touches that you resort to squealing and squirming desperately. You want so dearly to refuse me and yet you continue to act in such a way that you know I can’t resist. You can fight it all you like, but you can’t hide from me forever, my dear.”

You look away, but don’t respond to his words. You feel yourself welling with embarrassment as he points out each one of your flaws with precision.

“You liked being held just now, didn’t you?” Yosuke continues to tease you. “Feeling wanted by someone, feeling comforted and loved. And yet, you also like being pinned down like this, asking yourself whether or not I’m going to take you, but silently begging for it. You’re so flexible in that way. It’s delicious, really.”

He leans in closer until his breath is hitting your face and you can feel the heat of his body over your head.

“So I ask you once more, my dear” he practically whispers. “Do you want me to be rough, or do you want me to be gentle? If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to have to use you until I find out.”

Chapter 14: Visit Six - Helpless

Yosuke grunts as he pulls both ends of his shirt sleeves tightly together, your arms pressed against your nearly naked body with no room for you to wiggle around. As he ties you up, you try to kick him away, but he presses himself forward with his knee still between your legs, leaving you unable to move about.

You’ve been stripped of your gown against your will, your doctor having struggled to pull the thing off you amidst your wild flailing. Now, he’s managed to use his shirt to bind you, your palms down flat on the bed as you are unable to move your arms freely from the elbows up. Even though you are able to move your forearms a little, you still cannot do much with them because the rest of you is constricted. You try to shake away as your doctor ties you up, but he keeps you in your place with his strong hands.

“Don’t be difficult, my dear,” he chides you as he ties a tight knot under your chest. Your bare breasts are pushed up from beneath the knot, and the squeezing grasp of the clothes around your ribcage make it hard for you to breathe deeply without feeling restricted by them

“I don’t like this!” you try to gasp, but feel constricted by your makeshift binding. “Please, stop! I would have been fine lying in bed like you wanted if you had just given me a chance to-”

“I haven’t played with you in quite some time,” Yosuke ignores your pleas and interrupts you. “I gave you a little bit of sweetness to compensate for your not seeing me, but I came because I wanted to come into you, my little doll. You’re foolish to think begging me to stop will save you from being raped. But it is cute.”

Yosuke hovers over your tied body with his chest bare before you, his hair hanging delicately by the sides of his face. He’s removed his glasses and thrown them on the floor over his coat, so you’re forced to see his eyes clearly and without anything framing them. You try to move your arms around in the hopes that your makeshift binding is easy enough to be broken, but you realize that your doctor has tied it in such a way that struggling only makes the knot tighter.

You feel Yosuke gently cup your cheek in his hands as he watches you fight him, slightly smirking at your pointless efforts.

“You know that I will always take care of you, don’t you my pet?” He coos. “You don’t have to be so afraid of me, or so hesitant to love me.”

“I don’t love you!” you shoot back, trying to fight Yosuke’s advances, but you find yourself unsure of what value that word even has in this place.

“But you depend on me,” Your doctor chuckles, moving his thumb over your lips and pressing against them warmly. “You clung to me so dearly before.”

You jerk your head away to free your mouth. “That was before I learned more about you!”

“Don’t be so foolish. You still don’t know anything about me, my pet,” your doctor forces his thumb in your mouth and guides your head forward to look at him in response to your shaking him away, almost as punishment for it. You feel his thumb press into your mouth and against your tongue, and the sensation of his hold on you makes your face more flushed. You shut your eyes and foolishly let out a moan as your doctor slides his thumb in and out of your mouth, rubbing your lips simultaneously with each tug and push.

“My, even this makes you horny?” Yosuke teases you in amusement when he sees your reaction. “How precious.”

Eventually, he stops stimulating your mouth and takes his tie from beside your pillow, where he’d placed it after taking his shirt off. As he kneels over you, towering over your body, he grabs each end of the grey thing in each of his hands and wraps it around his knuckles. He then pulls each end opposite to one another and snaps the tie straight, the cloth producing a loud, sharp sound which echoes across the room and reverberates in your ears.

“If you’re that desperate to have something in your mouth, my dear, then this will do. Perhaps hearing your muffled cries will turn me on even more.”

He leans forward to wrap the thing around your head, and it is long enough to circle twice before he is able to tie the ends together. When he has the tie positioned around you, he jerks both ends away to tighten its grip around your head, and you feel the silken thing force its way over and between your lips, the sudden pressure of your makeshift gag making you gasp slightly as it’s tied tightly. As it is, you already have a bit of difficulty trying to breathe without feeling constricted by the knots and binding over your chest, but this only makes it harder.

When Yosuke is satisfied with your muffled cries, he pulls away and puts both his hands on either side of your head, hunched over your body while he presses his knee against your crotch and gently moves it around to tease you. As you shift uncomfortable to try to avoid his touch, Yosuke grins, titillated by your expressions. He then leans over you and rubs your inner thigh while gazing into your eyes pleasurably.

“You look lovely, tied up like this,” he chuckles, breathing slowly and heavily through his mouth as he lusts over your bound frame. “Unable to get away from me, unable to stop me from touching you. It’s driving me wild.”

You try to look away from him, but he dislikes this and moves his hand from your thigh to your chin, forcing you to look at him, gripping your face tightly.

“Don’t act as if you don’t want it,” He chides you with a firm but smooth voice. “The way you and your body react to me, and especially me…you want me, and you have since the first day I raped you. You keep fighting everything that happens to you, only because you know you want to give in and don’t want to admit it. After your first taste of my cock, you became addicted. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake away, but Yosuke forces your head in place, then moves his hand to your neck, gripping it suddenly.

“If you fight me this time, I’ll hurt you. So be a good girl and let me rape you. I have a lot of cum ready for you and I expect you to take all of it.”

He tightens his grip on your neck, making it even harder for you to breathe. However, he soon lets go and you realize that this is a mere warning. You want to push him away, but you cannot move, your body restrained and helpless to whatever it is the man intends to do with you. All at once, you feel degraded, insulted, and guilty for practically wanting him to take you and being called out about it.

Yosuke stands upright over you once more, his hands leaving your body for just a moment while he moves to unbuckle his belt. For some reason, hearing the metal buckle click softly as it’s undone, and watching Yosuke prepare to unsheathe his cock from his pants genuinely makes your heart flutter and your knees weak, much to your frustration. You begin to blush more and more as you see your doctor unbutton and unzip his slacks, then pull down both them and his underwear to slowly expose his already, extremely erect and familiarly sizable penis, dripping slightly with his precum.

You instinctively start to tremble as you watch him take it in his hand and bounce it up and down while staring at you with a knowing smirk.

“You want it, don’t you my pet?” He calls out, watching you squirm. “You’re shaking. Have you missed it that much?”

Yosuke doesn’t wait for your muffled response, instead taking his other hand and gently gliding It over your panties, giving your slit a gentle rub as he feels how slick you are even through the cloth.

“As expected, you’re already this wet,” Yosuke chuckles. “My precious doll…”

He gently pulls your panties down, moving his knee over them so that he can continue to pull them down and properly remove them from your body. When they’re off, he holds them to his face and gives them a sniff, moaning through his nose as he does so, much to your absolute embarrassment.

“What a lovely smell,” he exhales slowly. “I’ve missed it.”

You look away, not wanting to have to watch him, but he doesn’t linger on your odor for too long. He tosses your underwear away and uses both hands to spread your thighs, gazing at your pussy with amusement as he does so.

“A beautiful thing, as ever,” he comments slyly, watching you squirm around uncomfortably as you instinctively try to shut your legs but fail to.

Yosuke moves his other knee in between your thighs and spreads himself slightly while kneeling down. He forces your thighs to move up as he glides his hands down your legs until he reaches each ankle. With both hands, he keeps your legs up and spread open, forming a V-shape. The position is strange to you, but it fully exposes your pussy to your doctor, who seems pleased at having you this way.

Without using his hands, he moves in to worm his way inside of you, tightening his grip on your ankles when you desperately try to kick him away, rendering you fully unable to move. You ball your hands into fists at feeling the head of his dick again after a while of taking others. You almost want to grind into it yourself, but you refuse to let your doctor be right about you. Instead, you can do no more than give a muffled yelp in response to Yosuke pushing his cock into you forcefully, not taking his time doing so like he had before. You are wet enough for it not to rip you open, but it still hurts somewhat as you weren’t expecting him to enter you so suddenly.

Yosuke gives a slight cackle as he watches you writhe slightly in pain at his sudden entry, leaning and hunching over just enough to give your inner thigh a bit of a lick and a forceful, moaning kiss, the sensation of which makes you shiver more with pleasure. You try to shake out of your bonds and kick away from your doctor yet again, desperate to get away at any cost. Yosuke almost finds this endearing, watching you with his lips curved into a wide grin.

“You can’t stop this from happening, my pet,” he laughs at you. “Even if it hurts, I’m going to rape you until I’m satisfied.”

He begins to thrust into you, slowly at first, but forcefully and deeply. You feel your body beginning to ache in pain as you weren’t properly prepared for his cock like before. You begin to wail and cry in response to his thrusts, but you are helpless to your pounding as Yosuke takes your body for himself.

“It will feel good soon, my darling,” Your doctor pants between his long, slow thrusts. “Bear it for me like a good girl until then.”

You cry loudly from behind your makeshift gag as your fucks you against your will. Even amidst the initial painful thrusts, you feel your body welling with lust at his forceful pumping, your pussy slowly becoming more and more wet as it craves his dick. Hearing Yosuke’s heavy, loud grunts, feeling the pounding sensation of his cock and his crotch as he slaps it into yours, and smelling his sweet, musky scent drives you wild. With each powerful pump into you, your body is forced backward, and you are reminded with every single thrust of the cloth against your skin, that you are tied up and cannot stop your doctor from forcing himself upon you. Each vibration and slap against your pussy stimulates your clit, and in conjunction with the thing inside your body, it makes you shiver and moan.

What began painfully soon turns into pleasure as Yosuke told you it would. The wetter you become, the quicker your doctor thrusts into you. Something about being held up and open stimulates your body more than just being laid on the bed like before, and you remember feeling the same way when you were elevated in yesterday’s visit. You want to like it, but you don’t want to have to admit to Yosuke that you do, even without words.

You continue to gasp and moan heavily from behind your gag, tilting your head up and away from Yosuke so that you don’t have to watch his pleasured face as he pumps into you. You feel your body slowly succumbing to his forceful thrusts, which make your breasts bob around as he shakes your body with his. You soon find yourself enamored with pleasure, your struggling and painful cries slowly dwindling as you let Yosuke pound you forcefully. He notices this and gives a deep laugh.

“You do love it, don’t you?” He teases you between grunts. “My precious pet….”

He thrusts himself in and out of you faster and faster until you start to feel less relaxed and more excited. As your body wells with pleasure, your eyes begin to widen and you suddenly feel yourself ready to come.

“Don’t come until I do, my darling,” Yosuke senses your lust and forbids you to orgasm. “You are mine, so we have to come together. Do you understand?”

Your hands begin to tremble as you try to hold yourself back, afraid of what he might do if you disobey. Your body wants to jerk with pleasure as you’re thrust into so deeply and so rapidly, but you force yourself to hold it as best as you can. Each slapping noise, each grunt, and each hot breath leaves you dizzy, and you feel your toes curl as you almost let yourself go.

“I’m almost there!” Yosuke grunts loudly. “Come with me, my pet!”’

At his words, you feel yourself come with intense force, and Yosuke in turn gives three loud, forceful thrusts before he finally lets out a growling moan and spurts his warm cum inside of your pussy with dominance. You begin to yelp and buck as you ride him instinctively, soaking in every drop of his milky seed eagerly.

“Take all of it!” Your doctor commands you, tightening his grip on your ankles. “Don’t let any of it spill onto the bed, my dear!”

You continue to ride him as you orgasm, your tongue pressing against the cloth over your mouth as you want to open your lips to cry out, but fail to. Yosuke laughs at you as you buck your hips, thrusting into you sharply just a few more times to help you along before you finally finish and feel yourself relax.

“What a very good girl,” Yosuke compliments you like a child, giving one last, loud thrust and watching with titillation as the motion makes you squeak. Slowly, he removes his cock from your pussy and lowers your legs, placing them back on the bed. You feel Yosuke glide his fingers over your cum-covered cunt, wriggling your clit around as he examines his work.

“You’ve missed this feeling, haven’t you?” He teases you with a smirk. “You’ve missed my touch so dearly. Look at yourself, melting in pleasure…”

You look away, embarrassed, but he grabs your chin again and hovers over you, his face practically touching yours, and his hot breath hitting your face with every deep, lustful pant. You look on at him wide-eyed as you’re met directly with his olive gaze, and you whimper as you realize what he’s about to tell you.

“We’re not done.”

Forcefully, he grabs you by the head and leg and turns you over. You gasp in response to the sudden shift, but are helpless to stop him from moving you. Even though your arms are tightly pressed against your sides, Yosuke forces them to shift behind you, the fabric of his shirt digging into your skin and hurting you as it tightly drags against you. Within a few painful moments, your arms are behind you instead of on the side, your palms facing upward and away from your back.

Before you can press your face into your pillow with defeat, Yosuke takes it away and slides a hand under your lower abdomen, forcing you up just a bit so that he can stuff your pillow under your crotch. You try to kick back at him, but he grabs your ankle and stops you. With both his hands, he forces you to spread your legs, and you can only straddle your pillow while your face is pressed against your sheets. You can feel your pussy spreading open as you’re forced into your wide and vulnerable position. You can’t see anything that Yosuke does, but can hear him fully pull off his pants entirely from behind you before discarding them with the rest of his clothes on the floor. After this, you feel his fingers rubbing your labia and clit as he examines your cum-stained cunt.

“Does it feel good, being spread like this?” He questions you, then moving his hands over your ass and thighs, rubbing them while he chuckles at you. “It certainly looks good.”

You again try to struggle, balling your hands into fists and giving off a muffled “no” as you try to tell him to stop. This only makes Yosuke laugh loudly at you, his deep and smooth voice now sounding unusually wild and lustful.

“You want me to stop now, my pet?” He teases you, grabbing one of your thighs tightly, digging his fingers into your skin. “Do you still think I’ll magically decide not to fuck you? Or is your resistance the only thing you have left to cling to?”

You shut your eyes and exhale heavily through your nostrils as you feel the tight grip on your leg. It’s not painful, but it’s uncomfortable. You try to tell him “stop”, but it only comes out as “mmph.”

“Stay still.” Yosuke ignores your muffled cry.

He again refuses to be gentle while entering you, simply using his free hand to open your pussy up and shoving his cock hard and deep inside of you, making you muffledly yelp yet again. Even after being pounded into once already, you still feel a slight pain at being jerked into so sharply. You don’t want to just let him ride you, but you don’t seem to have much of an option.

Yosuke gives an amused chortle.

“Even after being fucked again and again, you still somehow manage to be tight around my cock,” he teases you with a grunt as he begins to pump deeply into your pussy. “You are utterly adorable, my pet. I’m lucky to have a little fuckdoll like you.”

Your fists tighten as you feel Yosuke smashing his body against yours, your clit now being stimulated by the pillow beneath you while you’re ridden. Again, his pace begins slowly, but his thrusts are still deep and powerful, forcing you to face the reality that he owns you. You keep whimpering and yelping with each hard pump, which delights Yosuke greatly. As he becomes even more aroused by you, he suddenly grabs your hair and pulls it, forcing your head up while you’re fucked. You yelp in pain at the sudden sensation, but are unable to fight back against his grip. You try to wriggle your arms around in protest, but you can’t, helpless to Yosuke’s grip on you. As you’re held up, your breasts are completely exposed, being tussled around with each strong pump into your pussy.

“Does it feel good like this?” Yosuke leans into your ear, steadying himself with his other hand pressed firmly beside you on the bed. “You have nothing to focus on but the sensations of my cock inside you as I fuck you, so I suggest you enjoy it even if you don’t want to.”

You feel Yosuke pull your hair harder as he pumps faster and faster into you, making you groan wearily into the fabric tightly over and inside your lips. By now, the tie is completely soaked in your saliva, and it feels cool against your face as the cold air of your bedroom has seeped into it.

You feel your body going numb as you’re forced to take Yosuke’s cock again, but you react strongly to his sex nonetheless. You’re driven wild by the coupling of his thrusts, his breath on your neck, his grip on your hair, and the pillowy softness rubbing against your clit and thighs with each pump. You can feel your skin start to sweat as you’re forced to take him. As Yosuke pumps more rapidly into you, you hear him give off a myriad of strong grunts, groans, and breathy pants, his body shaking with pleasure as he rapes you.

You begin to feel strange and brimming with pleasure again, and you know you’re almost ready to come. Somehow, this position feels different to you, and you feel the wave of pleasure even more strongly than before. You’re unsure as to why being angled like this makes you so crazy, but you soon find yourself completely giving into the lust and bucking your hips in response as always.

“Not yet, my darling,” Yosuke grunts as he pulls your hair even harder again to force you to focus on the pain before the pleasure. “Wait.”

You moan wildly at this feeling, the pain of his grip somehow pleasurable to you now. The more you hear the wet slapping of Yosuke’s crotch on your ass and the more you feel your thighs and clit being rubbed by the pillow, the more you want to come. You let out a few rapid groans in rhythm to Yosuke’s hard and rapid thrusts, but he keeps tugging at your hair as a reminder not to come yet.

You feel Yosuke’s sweat dripping slowly on your back, the heat of his body now increased exponentially as he focuses intently on pumping into you. His breathy pants are now deeper and more rapid in pace, his grunts louder and more bellowing.

“I’m…going to come!” He announces. He suddenly lets your hair go and forcefully presses his palm onto the bed, hunching over you as he fucks you harder and harder, faster and faster, with absolutely wild groans and grunts. Your face is now buried in your sheets, your makeshift gag rubbing against them as you’re unable to pick your head up again after so long of it being held up against your will and consequently straining your shoulders.

You continue to let out muffled moans and nasally pants in rhythm to your doctor’s incessant pumping. The more your gag rubs against the bed, the looser it becomes, and soon it completely slides off of your mouth.

Within a few moments, both you and Yosuke orgasm simultaneously. You give off a loud, yelping yell as you jerk back into your doctor’s cock, and he in turn grunts loud enough to shake the room, pumping into you slowly and deeply as he releases another forceful load of semen into your cunt. You can feel the cum spurt deeply into you, releasing another warm sensation deeper into your body as your doctor ejaculates his seed more and more. You almost wonder just how much he has to give as you continue to feel it pumping into you, but it eventually subsides.

You give a loud, breathy series of short gasps as you come down from your orgasm, and Yosuke breaths heavily through his mouth while still hunched over you with his cock still inside your pussy. The both of you are now dripping with sweat, the sheets now soaked with it and with both of your cum. You feel ready to pass out, almost sore from being pounded into so violently. Yosuke removes his penis from inside of you, and you can feel him get off of the bed in silence. You don’t see where he moves, but are suddenly taken by surprise as he grabs both of your hips and drags you toward the end of your bed with the pillow still under you, your legs forced to dangle over the bedframe.

“Wh…what are you doing?” you breathily question him, still barely recovering from your orgasm.

“I’m not done yet,” your doctor pants heavily, his voice low and hungry.

Your heart jumps.

“I-I don’t want any more!” You cry out, shaking in your makeshift bonds. “I’m so tired, please! I don’t want to come anymore!”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Yosuke grabs you by your feet and bends your legs upward, keeping them spread. Without hesitation, without giving you a moment to rest, he thrusts hard into you yet again, and without a cloth to muffle your cries, your yelp reverberates against the walls of your bedroom as Yosuke begins to rape you again.

“Please, stop it!” You moan as you feel your doctor continue to pump forcefully into you, this time not even starting slow. He breathes heavily and rapidly as he thrusts into your pussy, his grip on your feet tight and his lust for you unyielding. No matter how much you beg, he doesn’t stop.

“Please!” You cry, hoping that he’ll listen. He refuses you again, continuing to thrust into you with impressive stamina.

“Be quiet,” Yosuke pants commandingly between his grunts. “Be quiet and take me, my pet.”

You remain helpless as your body yet again responds to your doctor’s assault of your body, and you begin to moan girlishly and pleasurably as you feel yourself succumbing to him. You no longer have the strength to buck your hips into him, and can do no more than let Yosuke rape your body, now growing limp as he tussles you forward and backward like a ragdoll with the sheer force of his thrusts.

Neither of you are able to talk anymore, with utter pleasure and bodily responses taking hold of you both. The room echoes with nothing but wet slapping noises, grunts, breathy pants, and moans as you’re taken hostage and left at the mercy of your doctor’s sex. You begin to feel tears streaming down your face as you’re fucked, unable to resist anymore and feeling useless as you no longer have the energy to.

Soon, the both of you come together yet again, but Yosuke doesn’t announce it this time, instead giving off a loud, forceful grunt through his teeth. Without hesitation, he spurts more and more of his cum into your cunt, pumping wildly and deeply into you as much as he can manage to before he can’t come anymore. You can feel him eagerly thrusting into you with pleasure as he releases his seed more and more into you, with you only moaning wearily and dribbling saliva from your mouth with pleasure, now too weak to do anything else.

Eventually, the both of you calm down, and Yosuke slowly removes himself from your body, still panting heavily, but much more slowly now. He doesn’t make any more snarky or teasing remarks toward you, but instead remains silent as the both of your bodies come down from your activity. You almost feel yourself succumbing to your exhaustion, but feel Yosuke move you yet again before your eyelids have the chance to close. This time, he gently turns you over and removes the pillow from under you. He places it back in its usual place and lifts your body up, scooping it up in his arms so that he can more properly place you on your bed the way he had before. You notice now that he’s entirely naked, which you hadn’t been able to see the second time he entered you. You feel his naked flesh as he holds you, warm and somewhat sticky with his sweat, though you know you are as well. He continues to breathe deeply and slowly as he stares into your glazed-over eyes, and you can feel his chest rise and fall as he holds you.

Quietly, he lays you back on your bed, facing up, then climbs onto the bed with you, towering gently over your body while straddling you. Your heart jumps in fear that he’s about to start fucking you again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he unties the knot over your chest and finally releases the tight grip of his shirt, now wet with your sweat. As he tosses it aside, you feel yourself able to breathe much more comfortably now, so you give a few slow gasps of air while you can while moving your hand to clutch your chest, feeling it rise and fall sharply.

Still gazing into your eyes longingly while breathing heavily, Yosuke gently takes hold of your right wrist and pins it above your head by your pillow. You want to try to push your doctor away with your free hand, but feel you no longer have the strength to. You simply lie there as he leans into you, taking your mouth with his and pressing his lips against you warmly. He reaches down to his cock and gently begins to stroke his shaft while still pressed against you and gently kissing you. You begin to moan gently as you feel his lips and his cock on your lower belly simultaneously, pulling your head away just slightly enough to speak freely.

“How…are you able to keep this up…?” you wearily question the man, though he does not stop stroking himself while he responds.

“I haven’t come since I last saw you,” is Yosuke’s only answer, his voice much gentler now that he’s finished being rough with you. “I’ve waited just for you, my darling. I only want you.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond to him and continues to force his lips onto yours, sticking his tongue in your mouth and closing his eyes as he takes you warmly. You feel his grip on your wrist tighten as you try to move away, but you can’t do anything but let him kiss you. Somehow, being tenderly held like this after nothing but rough and forceful sex makes you feel beloved, and your heart flutters.

You hear Yosuke gasp and moan just slightly from behind your lips as he tongues you, no doubt restraining himself as he continues to masturbate onto your stomach. You feel the tip of his dick pressed firmly against you as he continues to stroke his shaft, but he forces you to focus instead on him as he gently and lovingly kisses you, pressing against you slightly harder so that you are forced to feel him more strongly. You slowly close your eyes as he takes your mouth for himself, finally letting him do so as you feel his wet tongue wrapping firmly around yours.

After a while of being locked against Yosuke’s lips, you feel the hand on his shaft quicken its pace, with his nose exhaling somewhat more rapidly as he does so. Within moments, he ejaculates onto your stomach, letting out a gentle, almost loving moan from his nose and throat, pressing his fingers around your wrists more firmly as cum dribbles out of the head of his penis and onto your bare stomach.

After he finishes, he opens his eyes and pulls away from you, a trail of saliva extending from your lips and his, connecting you both.

He pants gently as he gazes upon your blushing, glazed face, watching your chest heave with passion as you feel yourself succumbing to him more and more. Yosuke removes his grip on your wrist and cups his warm hand around your cheek, nudging your head in his direction so that you can only look at his warm gaze.

He smiles at you gently, acting in a manner completely opposite to how he had just before. You blush at his tender gaze, but can’t bring yourself to say anything to him. You half expect him to tease you for giving into him, but he doesn’t appear to. Instead, he leans into your ear opposite to where his hand is, and gives your cheek a gentle, slow kiss. As he pulls back slightly, he says but one thing to you.

 

“I love you.”

Chapter 15: Rest Seven - Jade

You awake slowly, your eyes only blurrily catching sight of colors all around you, almost like in your dream from earlier. You see before you a pale, sky blue color that is dotted with greens, whites, reds, and yellows around the edges of your vision. Just slightly, you begin to wonder if perhaps you’re waking up outside, under a real sky somewhere far from the doctors and the white walls. You start hoping that maybe everything you’ve endured was just some sick dream and that you’re back where you belong, wherever that may be. But as you fail to recollect anything at all, you know for a fact that you’re still at the facility.

You try to reach up wearily, but find that your arm feels sore in a familiar way. You have no recollection of what happened to you after Yosuke’s visit, nor how much time has passed since. However, you remember the feeling of your sore arm from a while back after your doctor gave you a shot, so you can only assume you were drugged with an injection rather than gas. You can’t seem to recall how you arrived where you are, nor can you really pinpoint where exactly that is. All you can see right now is color, your vision glossed over and hazy enough to make out nothing else.

Suddenly, you feel something plastic press against your lips, and a low voice trying to talk to you, but you’re still not able to make much of anything out just yet. You feel a stream of water entering your lips slowly, and you come to realize that someone is attempting to help you drink it. Now just noticing how parched you really are, you swallow the liquid eagerly, feeling slightly better at its cool touch on your tongue and lips. Eventually, your vision and hearing stop feeling as fuzzy, and you are able to make out that you’re in the gardens. You shift your head upward and notice that you’re laying back with your head perched on Cyrus’ lap. You nearly jolt up in embarrassment at realizing this, but your body still feels weak and groggy to where you aren’t really able to react much.

“C…Cyrus?” You call out weakly. “What’s going on?”

“You were out pretty hard,” your companion answers you with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel really woozy.”

“They probably have you on a lot of a drug right now,” Cyrus continues to help you drink more water. “Maybe they upped your dose, but it’s pretty weird that they would so soon.”

“Mom did mention that I might need a higher dose,” you recall aloud after giving a hearty gulp. “I’m okay now, thanks.”

You find your strength slowly returning as you shift carefully up, though Cyrus helps you balance as you try to turn your body and sit against the wall. You realize now that you’re in the corner of the gardens’ back room, and seeing this makes you blush as you remember finding the twins here. You almost want to question your friend’s motives in bringing you here, but try to remind yourself that he likely doesn’t know about what Two and Three do in this place.

“What happened to me?” You finally ask him, folding your arms around your body. “Did Yosuke bring me here?”

“Yeah, but you were already passed out,” Cyrus nods, closing the now mostly empty water bottle and setting it on the ground. “Sometimes people show up unconscious. It’s pretty common for one reason or another. But Mom asked me to help you since nobody else was really around yet. I think more people finally came by since you were out for a while, but I didn’t really wanna leave you alone to check.”

You realize Cyrus hasn’t bothered to ask you about your meeting with Mom, his doctor. You wonder if he can already assume how things went, or if he was told by someone else. Regardless, you’re a little grateful that he doesn’t make a big deal about it.

“Why bring me here?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You could have put me in the rec room or something.”

“I thought you might like to wake up to something nice,” Your pale companion shrugs. “For as fake as this place is, it’s the nicest set of rooms we have. Waking up to nothing but white walls every day gets a little draining, take it from me. If I ever have to be responsible for someone, I’ll bring them here. Otherwise doctors or anyone else will bring people to the rec room, since the couches are big enough to lay comfortably on.”

He scratches the back of his head.

“I also kind of wanted to talk to you a little more, honestly. You seem pretty down to Earth about a lot of things. I haven’t really met someone like that in a while, not to speak ill of the others or anything.”

“Why not talk to Violet or someone?” You ask curiously. “I get the sense that she wants to be around you more than anyone else here.” You put a hand to your mouth when realizing how rude your statement was.

“I-I don’t mean that in a bad way, though.”

Cyrus laughs.

“I get it. But no, Vi’s a sweet girl, but she talks at you, not with you. Around me, anyway.”

“You don’t love her, do you?”

The aqua-eyed boy blinks in surprise, his mouth hanging just slightly open as he processes your statement. You didn’t intend to step over any boundaries, but the thought crossed your mind and you didn’t consider that it might be too much to ask. You almost feel embarrassed having let the question slip out.

“That’s…a bit of a strong word,” he looks away. “No, I don’t love her the way you might mean. I love her in another way. I care about her, as I do the other Numbers.”

“I see,” you tilt your head up and exhale. You begin to remember hearing Yosuke’s last words before you stopped processing anything else.

I love you, he’d said. You almost blush thinking about the experience. He’d confessed it to you while naked and sweating, while holding you, while kissing your cheek, and all after filling you with his cum. The juxtaposition of rough sex and soft care confused you, and even now you don’t know what to make of it. You press your knees together at the memory.

“Cyrus…” you speak up suddenly, making the boy look at you with curiosity. “What does love even mean?”

“Huh…?”

You lower your head again and grab the water bottle from beside your companion, wanting to fiddle with something now that such an unusual conversation topic has arisen. However, you think that if anyone would understand what to make of such a statement as “I love you”, it would be someone who has been here the longest.

“I’m a little confused. Yosuke told me that he loved me,” you admit to him. “Eight had warned me that he might say it, and I want to believe It’s just something he wants to use to control me, but…”

“Did it make you feel something?” Cyrus asks you, leaning in on his knees as he shifts to a cross-legged position. You nod in response, but don’t feel like you can adequately elaborate.

“I think you should be careful,” is the boy’s only answer to you. “Doctors don’t usually throw that word around, but it’s dangerous when they do.”

“Why?” You look at him with curious eyes, your grip tightening around the bottle. “Is love dangerous?”

“Love is…complicated,” Cyrus lowers his eyes. “It means so many different things that it’s really hard to properly explain it. But what the doctors do to us, how they treat us? That isn’t love. No matter what they say, they don’t love you. They’re infatuated with you. They depend on you depending on them.”

You grimace.

“And what if you tell yourself that they do care about you just to cope with what you have to put up with?” you question, thinking of Blue suddenly. “Does that make you stupid?”

“It makes you human,” is Cyrus’ only reply. He continues to stare at the ground, and you wonder what he’s thinking.

“Is there anyone you do love?” You ask to break the silence. You again feel worried that asking him is boundary-breaking, but you are genuinely curious, and he has so far seemed to be relatively open about a lot of things.

“That depends on how you mean,” Cyrus’ eyes remain unwavering. “I said I love my friends, but there are different types of love, at least from what I’ve seen.”

“…Like what?”

“The love of a friend, of family, or of someone who you want to spend your time or your life with,” Cyrus explains. “I’ve watched a lot of movies and read a lot of books that have to do with stuff like this, so I can gather that there’s kinds of love that are on some kind of a wide spectrum based on the kinds of relationships I’ve seen in these mediums, and even a few I’ve seen from previous Numbers. You can love someone because you want to be with them and share your life with them, you can love someone because you’re related and you care about them, and you can love someone simply because they’re close to you and share the same interests. They label these kinds of love with stuff like ‘platonic’, ‘romantic’, or ‘familial’. There’s more complicated names for them, but these are the easiest ways to describe them.”

He folds his arms and looks up a bit.

“There’s also sexual love, but that’s a little hard to talk about when you’re in a place like this. I think loving someone sexually is possible, but I don’t really think that you can call any sexual interaction with the doctors in this facility genuine love of any kind. It’s just hostility and manipulation. Ownership.”

He sighs.

“There’s far more to it than that, but things like romantic or platonic love are the kind of genuine love you’ll more than likely see here, mostly among the Numbers. But to answer your question, yes. I love all of the Numbers in a platonic sense. I care about them and want to see them happy. I don’t back down from taking care of someone just because I’m tired or injured. I do what I can to show that I’m there for them.”

“And…what about romantic love?” You rub your thumb over the smooth plastic of the bottle in your hands, staring at its blue tint with a slightly flushed face as you examine the thing’s near-empty interior. Water sloshes against the plastic as you slightly move the bottle, creating light splashing sounds. “Do you love someone that way?”

Cyrus nods slowly.

“I did once,” he answers you. “She disappeared not too long ago.”

“You mean the girl before me?” You look at Cyrus with surprise. “You…loved her?”

“I did,” your friend leans back on the wall and closes his eyes. “We called her Jade, but she was number Eleven officially. She was a sweet thing, but she didn’t really talk much her first time here. I didn’t push her to talk if I could tell she didn’t want to, so I didn’t really get to know her right away. She eventually started hanging out with the rest of us after just wanting to be close to anyone that wasn’t a doctor. She hated it here, like everyone else. But with her, it genuinely took a toll on her mental health. I always tried to talk to her on the side to help her through it, but for as much as it made her feel better, it wasn’t enough to completely save her.”

Cyrus opens his eyes.

“She ended up getting pregnant, even though the doctors thought she was sterile. Maybe she just got lucky and avoided pregnancy for so long a time, but it eventually did happen. The thing about pregnant girls is that they’re rare, but they might come back. I’ve only ever seen one girl return, but this was way before the rest of you came. When she got back, she couldn’t remember anything, acting like some blank slate despite having met some of the Numbers already. I’m sure the doctors did something to her head like they do when they first bring you here, but she got pregnant pretty immediately after coming here and didn’t last long anyway. She eventually stopped coming by. I have no idea if she died or not. I have no idea if any of them die.”

“That’s…horrifying.” You widen your eyes. “But the way Six had mentioned that they do come back led me to believe it was more common than it seems to be.”

“It really isn’t,” Cyrus shakes his head. “Or at the very least, it hasn’t happened a lot with my groups. I’ve been here long enough to know a lot, and I've told everyone quite a lot, but there are things even I haven’t seen, things even I don’t know. Some things I’ve only ever witnessed once and never again. It’s…kind of complicated. In truth, there’s things I don’t even tell the group fully, exclusively to make them feel better or avoid making them feel worse. I guess you could consider it lying, but I just think of it as withholding specific details, with reason.”

“So why tell me?” You stare at him intently. “And how do I know what you’re telling me is the whole truth?”

“I trust you.” Cyrus glances over, awaiting a response from you, but you don’t know what to say. Instead, you remain silent as you mull everything over, trying to adequately process it. So, he simply continues, moving away from the topic.

“The last time I really saw Jade, I was being taken back to my room, and she was throwing up in the hallway and holding her stomach while her doctor just kind of stared at her with this kind of uneasy look on his face. I don’t know who he was, but I haven’t seen him since.”

He gives a long exhale.

“I never really got to tell her how I felt about her,” he admits. “I really don’t like to make a big deal about certain things. I learned very early on not to. But it was one of the first times I felt anything close to genuine romantic love, even if you could just call it infatuation or heavy interest. She was a sweet girl. I don’t even know if we would have worked out in the end even if I had said something about it…but I didn’t have the luxury of finding out. We locked eyes in the hallway, but I didn’t see her again after that. She just sort of stopped showing up, and none of the doctors acknowledged her existence afterward either.”

You shiver at the idea of having to lose someone so suddenly. You’re not sure you can come to grips with one of the other Numbers you know disappearing that way, and you almost feel heartbroken hearing Cyrus explain this to you.

“What…did she look like?” You ask him, trying to steer the conversation in a marginally less awful direction. “Unless you don’t want to think about it.”

“It’s fine,” Cyrus tries to reassure you, though you’re unsure if he’s certain that it is. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark or anything, it’s just kind of weird for me to really talk about it. It's not like I'm unable to move on or come to terms with what happened, but the whole thing is still relatively fresh for me. It’s not like she disappeared a few days before you arrived or anything, but it wasn’t so long ago that we’ve all completely forgotten about it either. We just know how things are here, so we can’t really dwell too much because it’ll hurt if we do. But because it was personal for me in particular, it hurts just a little more. Just like it will hurt for anyone else who gets super close to someone only for something to take that person away from them.”

He tilts his head down again and leans forward, biting his thumbnail.

“Jade had this really rosy skin and deep green eyes,” he finally answers your question. “She always wore her hair in a loose ponytail, and it was this deep brown color that looked nice with her gown. I always thought she was pretty, but I never really admitted it to her. In truth, there are girls here who are far prettier than she was. I’m not really sure what drew me to her in particular, but I can’t really begin to explain how feelings work. I’m not a psychologist. I don’t even think I’m that smart compared to someone like Eight who studies all the time.”

“You seem like you are,” you laugh softly in an attempt to cheer Cyrus up. “I mean, you know a lot about this place. You’re not stupid about the things that go on here, and you’re good at guiding others. You’re a bit of a leader, I think.”

Cyrus blushes at these compliments, unsure of how to react otherwise.

“Jade sounds like she was nice,” you move on with a smile, sensing his slight embarrassment. “I wish I could have met her. Maybe we could have been friends.”

“I think so too,” Cyrus agrees, finally returning your smile with one of his own. “I know she got along with Three pretty well, but I don’t know what they talked about. Three doesn’t really like to talk about her either. Then again, she won’t talk about a lot of things to anyone but her brother, which I guess really says something about her friendship with Jade.”

You look down as silence falls between the both of you after he says this, but you hesitantly ask in curiosity,

“What about…everyone else before me? I don’t know how many rooms there are here, but there’s only ten of us now.”

“Some of the others weren’t here for very long,” Cyrus tells you bluntly. “Some of the numbers you know now actually met members of the old group as they replaced certain people. For instance, Two and Three came at the same time and got to meet everyone before Jade other than the Numbers they were replacing. A lot of the older Numbers were friends with some of the current Numbers before they died. People like Eight and Nine had never met any of the Numbers before them, but they did at least know the previous Ten and Jade, if only briefly.”

Cyrus shakes his head.

“I’m not sure how high the rooms go either. The highest number I ever knew was Jade’s. I want to say I did know other, higher numbers, but I really can’t remember. I can at least say that a lot of people have died for one reason or another in this place. Sometimes it’s drugs, sometimes it’s injury, and sometimes it’s resistance. Fighting back or trying to run away usually doesn’t end well. I’ve dealt with people suddenly going missing. I’ve also seen a few people die.”

You tremble slightly his words. You almost forgot about the threat of death keeping you here. Perhaps you started to simply go along with things with time, forgetting that you ever did so to begin with because of that fear of death. It was only really when Yosuke reminded you of it that you had to fully think about it again.

“If there are more rooms, they’ve been empty for a while,” Cyrus goes on, interrupting your thoughts. “I don’t know the reason, and I probably never will. Before, the doctors were replacing people left and right until this current group was fully formed. But after Jade and the previous Ten, their pace lessened. We haven’t seen anyone new since Nine. Not until you came along.”

“Maybe it’s expensive or time consuming,” you suppose. “But I find it odd since I’ve been told that replacements are the easiest option.”

You raise your brows.

“What about the Ten before me? Do you know anything about him?”

Cyrus blinks, staring intensely at the floor this time, but says nothing as he ponders this.

“Not…really,” he finally answers you, his brows lowering. He almost sounds like he’s guessing. “I only recall his color being orange, but I can’t remember him much otherwise. Not even his face. Nobody else knew him that well either, I don’t think. We mostly just remember that he was one of us and then suddenly wasn’t, as if he’d been in the background or something even though I’m sure he wasn’t. We talk about him like he exists, but we don’t really even know if we knew him that well. I’ve had a few of the girls even question whether he was ever real to begin with, but I refuse to believe he wasn’t.”

“But wasn’t he here for longer than Jade?” You ask with rising concern. “Why wouldn’t you have remembered him more?”

“I don’t know,” Cyrus shakes his head. “But I don’t think It’s a good idea to try to find out. If I don’t know something, then nobody else does either. Maybe it’s better that way. If we try to solve random mysteries around here, we might end up coming across information that we’re not supposed to, and that can get us killed.”

“But what if everyone here simultaneously does something that the doctors don’t like?” You wonder aloud. “If we all were put to death at once, they wouldn’t have a single replacement. They’d have to rebuild from the ground up. I’d imagine that would be kind of a challenge, especially since it took so long to get to where they are now, right?”

“Yes,” Cyrus nods. “But, I’m not fond of the idea of dying needlessly. If we die, they can easily rebuild. Sure, it would be an inconvenience, but we’d be dying for no reason. I said they slowed down on replacements, that doesn’t really mean that they won’t look for any if Numbers start dying off. They have a tight operation all to fulfill their sick desires, so they’ll probably keep it going for as long as they can. Maybe because they like it, maybe because it’s too expensive to suddenly stop. Either way, us dying won’t stop a single thing.”

Cyrus shuts his eyes with an uncomfortable thought welling in him.

“It’s probably bad to say this, but these people are better off doing this here with us,” he tells you. “If they ever decided to call it quits, whether because they wanted to or because they had to, then they could easily just pack up and leave. I’d imagine by escaping any kind of punishment for what they’ve done, they’d be free to go out into the real world with their medical and scientific knowledge to do other things instead. And then what? Some random people out there are likely going to get hurt and forced into what we were. Maybe another facility or similar underground operation would show up.”

He shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t really wish that on anyone else. I know it makes me sound like I’m completely giving up, but I’d rather it be me than someone else. If we stay here, so do they.”

You clutch the bottle in your hands and wince. You admit he has a point, but hearing it said aloud almost sends a shiver down your spine. Everything he’s said to you makes you feel queasy and deeply unsettled. You feel a knot welling in your chest as the realization that you’re going to be here forever finally sets in for you,

“Cyrus,” you speak up, making the boy open his eyes and turn to you curiously. “We don’t deserve this, do we?”

“No,” Is his only response.

“But we can’t really stop it either?”

“…No.”

You sigh, feeling frustrated with yourself but trying to avoid more negative thoughts. Quietly, you fold your knees up and wrap your arms around them, leaning in. You suddenly remember your earlier desire to ask Cyrus about the workers here, so you change the topic of conversation yet again to something possibly less unpleasant, even if only slightly.

“I have another question if you don’t mind. It’s not as personal, promise”

“Sure, shoot,” your friend shrugs his shoulders.

“What’s with the workers here?” You finally ask, raising a brow. “I had tried to ask Six about them earlier, but she wasn’t able to tell me much about them since she was taking care of Five. I think she got sick for a little while.”

“Oh, yeah, she did,” Cyrus leans back against the wall. “I haven’t seen her in a bit, but I think she’s okay. People overdose here and there if the doctors aren’t careful or if they use too much of something to heighten a particular drug effect, usually for play. I’ve only ever seen one person genuinely die from it, though. It’s honestly pretty scary.”

“So that could have been me today?”

Cyrus nods, almost hesitating to, but wanting to be honest.

“Well…anyway…” He drops his hand and rests it on his knee, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with the grim topic. “The workers here usually stay hidden or out of focus because that’s what they’re ordered to do. They’re just in the background and do whatever it is they’re assigned to. A lot of them don’t actually take orders from the doctors, though. That mostly comes from up top.”

“You mean from their superior?” You turn your head toward him, and Cyrus nods while making an mm-hm noise.

“Yosuke mentioned him a few times before, and I think I saw him just briefly when I woke up here. I didn’t get a good look though.” You bite your lip.

“I don’t know much about him myself,” Cyrus continues. “I don't think I’ve ever met him, and that’s probably a good thing. I’ve heard he only really shows up if he needs to. But the other workers here only really listen to what he says. I’ve never personally seen them up close, but I was told by some of the others that they wear dark masks and white clothes if they’re not hidden away in their designated areas.”

“The people who clean up after each visit do,” you confirm this. “I didn’t pass out right away after a visit, and I think I saw them coming in to clean the room, but I was really drugged up and don’t remember it too clearly…”

“They’re not all that important, really,” Cyrus shrugs. “By which I mean we don’t usually think about them unless we really have to try interacting with any of them. I don’t know who they are or what they’re doing here. I’m not even sure if they’re confined here or if they work here willingly. They don’t visit us, and I know for a fact they’re not doctors. It’s kind of weird, but it’s not like they really bother us. They go out of their way to avoid us Numbers unless we need something specific, kind of like the guy in the cafeteria who gives us water or other small things if we really need it.”

“I hope they’re not prisoners here,” you shudder. “But knowing how these people operate, I wouldn’t put it past them to keep household slaves as well as sex slaves. I’m surprised they don’t intermix the two and make us do stuff like that though.”

“They want us to be clean and kempt,” Cyrus scowls. “We’re like pets to them. They take care of us, and we don’t have to work or do much of anything other than let them use us.”

“It’s disgusting,” you add with a grimace. “I don’t know how Blue was able to get used to it so easily. Eight seems to really look down on her.”

“Violet does to some regard too,” your companion exhales with some weariness. “I think out of annoyance at how she’s so okay with it, but even then she still talks to her because she’d rather talk to someone that frustrates her than not talk to anyone at all. She’s pretty hot-headed like Eight is, but she at least knows how to play the game when she knows she can’t win. I think that everyone just has a different way of seeing it and dealing with it. People like Three, Eight, and Violet can’t bring themselves to accept their fate, but everyone else is able to understand their position and finds a way to make it through. I don’t think it’s wrong to accept it and admit to yourself that you like what happens to you. It’s just a consequence of prolonged abuse. You might eventually become like Blue yourself, and we wouldn’t think differently of you for it.”

“Eight might,” you pout. “He gets to me sometimes, y’know?”

“I respect him for fighting, but I don’t think he goes about it the right way,” Cyrus heaves a sigh. “He doesn’t just fight the doctors, but everyone else too. He’s still not as used to it all as the rest of us, but I can’t say that it’s a good reason for his attitude when even Nine seems to cope with it in a way that’s, I think, far healthier by comparison. And she hasn’t been here for as long as he has.”

“Why aren’t you completely happy like Blue is if you’ve been here longer than her?” You question, suddenly, almost regretting being so personal about it as you see Cyrus’ face twist slightly with frustration.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I think being responsible for everyone keeps me going. I know I can’t fight with the doctors all the time, so I let things happen to me and just accept that it’s beyond my control. I don’t really see it as giving up, but rather learning to accept an unstoppable force. As cheesy as it sounds to say, life is a kind of force like that.”

“You pick that up from a movie?” You tease him while giggling slightly, making Cyrus laugh as well.

“So what about you?” He asks suddenly. “How do you cope?”

“Me…?” You blink with confusion. “I…don’t really know yet. I’ve been kind of clinging to the times I get to hang out with everyone here, but that’s really all.”

“It’s not a bad start,” your companion reassures you, folding his legs so that he can begin standing up. “Just don’t hurt yourself trying to be stubborn like Eight or Violet if you find it’s not working for you. Do what you think is best for you, so long as you can keep a clear head. That’s what’s really important here.”

After balancing himself out, Cyrus stretches out his arm and motions for you to take his hand.

“We should go see what the others are up to while we still have time.”

You take his hand and let him help you up, almost falling over as you realize your legs have fallen asleep.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp, clinging to Cyrus’ shoulders. “Ow, ow, ow!”

Laughing, Cyrus wraps his arm around your upper back and helps support you.

“Here, lean on me ‘till it stops,” he instructs you. “Happens to me a lot.”

“Thanks,” you sheepishly show your gratitude as the both of you walk out of the gardens, you half-hopping with each step so as not to feel the discomforting pins-and-needles ensemble taking place in your calves and feet as strongly as you would with regular steps.

As the both of you exit the area and move back into the hallway, you turn your head slightly toward the metal gate behind you and notice Mom exiting the records room with a manila folder and a pen in her hands. She catches sight of you briefly, staring with somewhat wide eyes at first. However, she returns to her sultry demeanor and gives you a wide, close-lipped, pink smile. She presses her pen to her lips and winks playfully at you, but Cyrus doesn’t notice this, since he’s focused on helping you to the rec room. As you’re guided away, you blush and lower your eyes, not necessarily thrilled to see Mom again even though you’ve had some time to get over the encounter with her.

You hear her heels turn and clack against the floor as she continues to walk away, pleased with her teasing of you. Not wanting to dwell on any memory you have of Mom, you put her out of your mind as you reach the rec room, wanting only to focus on everyone else.

Chapter 16: Visit Seven - Slow

You sit on the floor of the rec room completely alone, but your surroundings are different than they should be. There are no couches or tables, no televisions nor people. There aren’t even any doors around you where there should be, but you don’t know why.

“Hello?” You call out, only hearing your echoing voice in response. You stand up slowly and make your way to where the main door should be, pressing both hands against the wall and gliding them down in disbelief at feeling its solid touch. There’s no way out of the room, it seems, and you can feel your heart begin to beat faster with rising panic.

Suddenly, you hear a shuffling of feet from behind you, and you whip your body around in surprise only to face a petite girl with long brown hair held up in a loose, drooping ponytail. She stares at you warmly with deep green eyes, and upon seeing her features and her green gown, you realize who she is.

“Jade…?”

A flurry of questions floods your mind, but you aren’t able to get any of them out through your lips before Jade steps forward. You finally notice that one of her hands was behind her back, and as she moves it before her, you can see that she’s gripping a blunt knife.

“What are you—” You have no time to respond adequately, as you feel the thing being sunk into your stomach with force, the girl still smiling warmly at you as you writhe in pain. You watch yourself as you begin to bleed from your wound, trying to clutch your stomach but being unable to properly react, shivering and gasping. Soon, you collapse on your knees, and before you can hit the ground, your eyes finally open wide.

You give a heavy gasp and pant rapidly for just a few seconds before you are able to gather that you’re not dead or injured. You press a hand against your stomach to verify this, and you are relieved to find that you’re fine.

You do notice, however, that you’re not in your bedroom. Instead, you’re in your main examination room, lying on your side over the gentle sheets with your head pressed firmly against the pillow. You remember that you spent the rest of the day yesterday with a few of the other Numbers, talking about this and that while messing around with some of the game tables. You can remember Mom coming to collect you instead of Yosuke when it was time for bed, and that she took you to your already-unlocked bedroom door to drop you off. You found the switchup odd since you had expected to see your doctor again. You realize, then, that you haven’t seen him at all since he dropped you off in the recreational area yesterday.

You hear the scuffing of dress shoes against the hard floor from somewhere behind you, and a drawer sliding open. You turn on your other side so that you can peek behind your currently angled bed, and standing by one of the cabinets and drawers is someone with a frame that looks almost similar to Jonathan’s, so much so that you almost think it’s him when you first see this person. However, they have remarkably different qualities that you more clearly see as your focus adjusts to their shape.

This stranger has white, snowy hair, layered and curled at the ends, but not necessarily curly as a whole. It’s no doubt bleached since they don’t seem old enough to have such snowy hair naturally. You aren’t able to see their face or clothes quite clearly yet since they’re turned around, but you do notice they’re wearing maroon corduroy pants that stop just at the ankles above black socks and shoes. From what little of their skin you can see on the nape of their neck, you notice this person has extremely deep, dark skin with cool tones to it. They have an overall thin frame, one straight and flat with shoulders that hang just slightly.

“Did you have a good dream, kitten?” The doctor’s voice calls out to you, making your heart jump. They have a deeper voice, but not so deep that it’s entirely masculine. You aren’t entirely sure whether it belongs to a male or female, but you admit that it is a rather smooth voice, if a bit airy on some syllables.

When you don’t answer quickly enough, the doctor stops what they’re doing on the counter and turns slowly.

“Are you not awake?” They ask themselves aloud, puzzled. You gasp quietly as they begin to turn around, tucking your head back to your bed and pretending that you’re still asleep. You shut your eyes tightly as you lay there and hear the gentle steps of your visitor as they creep up toward you.

Suddenly, you feel a smooth hand glide down your cheek as hair is brushed away from your face. You can sense the gentle hand guiding your chin up, and you find your eye instinctively opening out of curiosity as to who’s hovering over you.

“Are you trying to hide from me?” The stranger before you tilts their head and lowers a brow with confusion. As their skin grazes your face, you can smell a rather fresh, dewy odor. You open both your eyes more widely and gaze into the face of someone with somewhat softer features. Their jaw isn’t particularly sharp, but it doesn’t look explicitly feminine either. They have a small nose, strong, icy blue eyes, and dark eyebrows that make it more obvious their hair is bleached and dyed white. You are unable to tell what gender this person actually is—they seem feminine because of their softer features, but you remember Jonathan looking this delicate while still radiating at least some evident masculinity. This person has no breasts or any other traits that would make it evident that they were female, and they’re dressed in a way similar to that of most men you have been visited by. On their torso is a white dress shirt with a black, solid tie hanging over it, though it’s hanging downward toward your body as this doctor is touching you, hunched over to see if you’re okay.

“No,” you lie, embarrassed. This person has a very attractive face, you have to admit, and it makes you feel a little flushed. Your almost ethereal-looking visitor seems not to buy your response, lowering their brows a bit.

“I’m a little on edge, that’s all,” you finally admit, looking away.

“Being so new here, I suppose I can’t blame you,” your visitor almost laughs, releasing your chin. “But I’m glad you’re awake. You’ve been asleep for far longer than I wanted you to be, but this isn’t much of a setback. We still have time to play.”

As you sit up, you suddenly realize that you’re not tied or cuffed to your bed the way you usually are, having been so focused on seeing your visitor that you hadn’t noticed it before. Seeing it now almost confuses you. Your visitor isn’t even attempting to force you down with their own hands the way your previous ones before Yosuke had.

“You’re not going to use restraints on me?” You question, blushing. Your visitor shakes their head.

“Not today, unless you’d like me to. But I often prefer to keep things open and unexpected,” they explain. “My mood might change sometimes. But it’s not like you’re going to run away anyway, right?”

“You know I can’t,” you pout. “Even if I could overpower you people, I know the risks of trying to.”

“A good girl knows her place,” responds the doctor, smiling gently. “I’m glad that you understand.”

“What are you going to do with me, then?” You demand.

“I get my pleasure in a variety of ways depending on how I feel that day,” your visitor tells you, putting a hand on their hip. “Bondage is fun and everything, but it’s not the only way to really play. I sometimes like to take things a little slow. Build things up just enough, especially with the new people. I’m not usually as forceful as the other men here unless I really need to be, at least not until I get into the rhythm. So, if you stay on my good side and cooperate, you’ll find yourself having a good time.”

The other men? You think to yourself, repeating the doctor’s words. You take this as an indication that your visitor is male, so you come to expect from him what you have from the other men you’ve met, regardless of how kindly he talks to you.

“Are you frightened of me, kitten?” The doctor asks you, tilting his head slightly and resting his cheek in his free palm. “You have a rather intense look on your face.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you look away.

“My name is Gale,” your visitor introduces himself, smiling kindly. “Gale Smith. Maybe knowing that makes you feel a little less uncomfortable. Does it?”

“Maybe…?” You feel yourself utterly confused. “Are you…going to touch me or…?”

“My, they’ve got you begging for it already, don’t they?” Gale chuckles, teasing you while placing a hand on his cheek. “Of course I will, kitten. I just thought you might like a more personal introduction since it’s our first time together. I like all new Numbers to know me even just a little before I use them.”

Gale crosses his arms.

“I know many people here like to jump right into things, but I don’t always. If I decide to visit you again, I may be a little more forward. But don’t you like this better?”

“I suppose?” you answer uncertainly. “I’m really used to just...being used.”

“Well, it is your job to be,” Gale drops his arms and begins to pull off his coat. “Whether you’re any good at it remains to be seen.”

You watch as his long-sleeve shirt and corduroy pants are exposed fully now. All things considered, Gale seems to be a little bit meeker looking than many of the other doctor’s you’ve seen. However, something about his deep skin coupled with his bright eyes and hair makes him look haunting and somewhat alluring, you must admit. He’s almost as gentle in form as someone like Jonathan, though you doubt they have any relation. You also wonder whether Gale’s bright eyes are real or not, because they don’t truly look like any natural eye color you’ve ever seen. You admit that it very much compliments his look, but every time you catch his gaze, it makes you feel somehow beneath him.

After dropping his lab coat on the floor, Gale rolls up his sleeves. However, he does not disrobe further. He also releases the lever on your bed to make it fall flat.

“Kitten, lie down for me, won’t you?” He purrs, giving you an endearing, insistent gaze that makes your face grow red. You know you can’t really trust him since he’s a doctor, no matter how kindly he speaks to you, but you find yourself obliging his request far easier and quicker than some orders you’ve been given from other doctors. Even if you didn’t want to listen, you knew you couldn’t resist his orders anyway.

You end up doing as instructed, lying on your bed with your back pressed flatly against it, letting your head rest in your cushiony pillow comfortably and your arms extend down on either side of your body. You aren’t sure what to really expect, but you don’t have much time to think about it as Gale stands next to your bed and leans over you, steadying himself by pressing a hand over the area beside your pillow and gripping the sheets firmly.

“Perhaps this is what you’re after,” he coos, leaning in and taking your chin between the fingers of his other hand gently as he presses his lips against yours. You want to gasp at the sudden act, but you are unable to produce any sound as your mouth is covered with Gale’s. He closes his eyes as he kisses you, first giving you a few light smooches before moving in and proceeding to gently insert his tongue into your mouth. His taste is almost sweet, and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he exhales slowly but heavily through his nose while giving a few airy moans. You almost want to push him away, but you can’t bring yourself to want to fight him when he’s being so gentle with you.

As you feel yourself becoming dizzy with Gale’s warmth, you close your eyes as well, letting him take your lips as his. You suddenly feel his hand drop from your chin toward your breasts, and he begins to gently rub against one while gently squeezing his fingers around it. You feel your face growing hot as blood rushes to your cheeks, letting out a few moans of your own as Gale plays with you gently. He rubs a finger over where your nipple is, going in a circular motion while still cupping the rest of the breast. You reach up slowly to grab his wrist as if to try prying him off of you, but you don’t find yourself doing so.

After a while, Gale finally pulls away from you and grabs the hem of your gown.

“Arms up, kitten,” he coos in your ear with his gentle request. You open your eyes and look away, but oblige his order and raise your arms so that he can completely remove your rose gown. Once it’s off, Gale drops it on the floor and examines your frame as you lie mostly naked on the bed, aside from your white panties. He smiles at you warmly as he sees every inch of you.

“You look magnificent,” he charmingly compliments you, taking your breasts in both hands this time. His touch is warm and dry, and his skin glides smoothly against yours. Despite his delicate touch, he is still able to grip you strongly enough for you to feel good as you’re massaged firmly.

“They feel so good,” he breathes, leaning in to start kissing your neck. He pecks at you gently, but sucks against your skin with each one, leaving gentle marks on your neck the more he does it. The kissing and sucking sensations aren’t painful, but are firm.

Still rubbing your nipples and the skin around your breasts, Gale pulls away from your neck and whispers in your ear.

“I’m going to be a little rougher on your neck,” he tells you. “If it starts to hurt, tell me.”

He proceeds with his oral assault, nipping and sucking at the skin forcefully while occasionally moaning between breaths. The sudden force of it makes you blush and whimper, but it doesn’t hurt. You feel a pressure against your skin with each bite and suck, and it occasionally does feel like it stings, but not enough to warrant your trying to stop it. In fact, the feel of it is strongly pleasurable to you. You find yourself moaning as the sensation of Gale’s mouth against your neck and his hands firmly groping your tits work in unison together, creating a myriad of sensations that your body responds eagerly to.

You feel Gale giving a bit of a gentle, muffled laugh as he feels you responding to him, but he doesn’t stop just yet. Instead, he takes a hand off of one of your breasts and moves it downward toward your thighs, rubbing one of them gently up and down as he continues to kiss and bite at your neck while squeezing the other breast with his other hand. You instinctively shut your legs together, reaching to grab his wrist with your other hand in an attempt to stop him. However, Gale is still able to reach down and rub your labia and clit with his fingers through your panties. He giggles slightly as he feels you resisting, but continues to rub and grope you endlessly, watching you gasp and moan helplessly as he touches you.

“Does it feel good, kitten?” He breathes in your ear with gentle anticipation in his voice. You can only moan in response, looking away as you feel Gale’s touching of you. He finds this amusing, and slowly pulls your underwear aside so that he can start to finger you with two of his fingers. You gasp as you feel his warmth enter you, but he moves away from your neck and back to your lips to quiet you, his tongue wet and slithering into you as you’re forced to take his fingers.

He slides his digits in and out of your pussy gently, rubbing your clit with his thumb as he does so. He doesn’t close his eyes as he kisses you this time, watching your every move intently as you try to avoid his icy blue gaze while blushing heavily.

As he thrusts his fingers in and out of you more and more, you find yourself growing more excited, and eventually tighten your grip on his wrists as you feel yourself wanting more than just his fingers. You begin to moan a little more loudly into his mouth, making him chuckle at you through his nose while he continues to press himself against your lips. He squeezes your breast even more firmly now, and quickens the pace of his fingers just enough to make you shiver with pleasure. After a while, he also begins to curl his fingers inside of you, stimulating you for a while until you finally find yourself at your climax and come.

Gale watches you as you moan and squeal, tightening your pussy around his fingers as you come. He pulls away from your lips and smiles as you finish, releasing the grip he has on your breast as he does so. After a brief moment of excitement, you settle down, your pussy now sopping wet and ready for more. Gale gently slides his fingers out of you and laughs softly.

“You’re so very pretty, kitten,” he coos. “I always like watching girls like you come when I finger you. Your doctor said you made some wonderful faces, and he wasn’t wrong.”

You blush at the mention of Yosuke, wondering suddenly where he’s been since he used you last. You feel almost insulted that he left you with such an important declaration as “I love you” but didn’t bother to see you afterwards.

Suddenly, you notice that Gale has stood back up and begun to strip off his clothes, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. His bare chest is as hairless as Jonathan and Nathaniel’s, you notice. As you watch Gale move to unbutton his pants, you feel embarrassed. However, when he drops his corduroy slacks, you see a harnessing device wrapped around his lower body, met at the crotch with a black, sturdy covering that has a metal ring in the middle. In it is some kind of rubbery toy that looks like an unaroused penis, colored precisely like his actual skin. You widen your eyes at the sight, but before you have the chance to question this, Gale speaks up, raising a palm up as if to signal to stop.

“I’m male right now, so please think of me this way unless I ask otherwise,” he tells you with a stern look. “I prefer to dress somewhat masculine most days, and I’ve always found myself attracted to the girls here. There are days, though, where I feel particularly feminine or want to use my more feminine body parts, so I will act and dress according to how I feel is right. You may refer to me as ‘they’ or by my name. That’s all I ask.”

Gale takes their held-up hand and cups your cheek, trying to assuage you as your face is wide with a confused expression, your eyebrows raised and your mouth slightly agape.

“Did you think I was something else?” They ask you. You look away, but nod.

“I…did think you were strictly male,” you admit. “I didn’t know….I...”

“I know it might be strange for you, kitten” Gale coos while still feeling their flaccid cock toy in their other hand, touching it as If it were their own genitals. “Simply do as I ask and refer to me as I am. I can still play with your body regardless of how I choose to use mine, regardless of how I think of myself, how I feel. I will guide you, but you have to listen to me. Do you understand?”

“I’m…” you blush. “I’m not used to this...”

“That’s okay,” Gale giggles with a deep but airy voice. “You are new, you have time to adjust. After dealing with this for so long, I’m not bothered so easily by certain reactions, and I am better able to understand just who I am. I don’t forcibly interchange my gender or the genitals I choose to use just for kicks. I genuinely feel different on different days, but I more often find myself being comfortable with having a penis. I don’t blame the confusion I get from my less inexperienced playthings, but I do command respect.”

Gale shakes their head.

“I may look fragile, but believe me when I say I’m anything but. If you don’t show me the respect I deserve, you will be punished.”

You nod, indicating that you understand.

“I’m still me, kitten,” Gale glides their thumb over your mouth and rubs your lower lip with one, gentle swipe. You blush and shift your eyes you feel their touch, making them chuckle at you with titillation. “Regardless of how I feel, act, or fuck, I’m Gale, and I always will be. All I ask is that you follow my lead and do as I tell you. Alright?”

Again, and with Gale’s thumb still over your mouth, you nod. Such a person as Gale is strange to you after you’ve been fucked mostly by biological men, but you force yourself to accept them as they are. At the very least, you find solace in how they’re treating you kindly, rather than as an object. Or maybe that’s only because it’s your first time with them. You aren’t really sure what to expect at this point.

Having finished explaining the terms to you, Gale drops their hand from your cheek and mouth, instead stepping toward the counter behind your bed to grab something on it. You can hear them undoing their harness with a click before putting something on the counter and picking something else up. After a little more fiddling, Gale finally comes back toward you, and you can see that they’ve put on a regular, erect dildo. It’s still flesh-colored like the packer before it, and you watch as Gale rubs the thing as if it were part of their own body, eyeing you up and down with lust as they do so.

“I apologize for such a delay, but you should still be wet enough to take me,” they tell you. “Please spread your legs for me, kitten.”

You blush in response, but follow the doctor’s orders and continue to lie flat against the bed, spreading your thighs for them. They laugh as they watch you.

“There’s no reason to be so afraid,” Gale reassures you, placing their free hand on your thigh with gentle care, as if to comfort you. “I want us both to feel good, kitten.”

You say nothing, but Gale knows you’ve heard them by the embarrassed look on your face. Once your legs are spread, they climb on top of the bed and lean over you, pressing both hands against the bed on either side of your pillow and staring directly into your eyes with their endearing, icy gaze.

“You look just darling, kitten,” they tease you, making your face grow even redder. Gale leans in to kiss you softly on the mouth just a little more while they move one hand down to rub their cock against your labia, pressing the tip of it against your clit.

“Mmph!” You groan in surprise at the feeling, unable to moan aloud. Gale laughs gently through their nose again, continuing to rub against you. You are surprised to find that they are able to work you like many of the other men have, and you are easily able to forget that their penis isn’t really attached to their body the more they rub it against you. Gale seems to know just where to go, so you find yourself trusting them to. You continue to moan as your clit and labia are stimulated by Gale’s slow, slick movements along and against it, clenching your fists with pleasure.

After a while of this, Gale finally pulls their face away from yours.

“Do you like that, kitten?” they coo, kissing your cheek. “Do you want me inside of you?”

You look away, blushing hard. Gale giggles boyishly at your lack of verbal response and moves their hand toward your panties, pulling them aside again since they’ve shifted back in place. As your pussy is exposed to them, they then use their fingers to spread your labia open so that they can insert their cock into you.

“Be good, now, kitten” Gale orders you. “And take me.”

They push gently into you, your pussy squeezing around the cock entering your body. You gasp at being penetrated, clutching the sheets under you and moving your head to the side. Gale watches you eagerly with a blushing face, aroused by your reactions.

“How beautiful, even when being entered like this…” they mumble with shining eyes. Soon, they begin to thrust into you, their crotch pressed firmly against yours after every pump. You feel the metal ring of Gale’s harness around parts of your labia with each thrust, adding a touch of coldness to the overall experience of being pounded into. You grunt and groan with each pump into you, still tightly gripping the sheets. As you’re pumped into, you hear Gale begin to moan boyishly through their throat in pleasure both at the feeling of taking you, and at watching your expressions twist in such a way that pleases them.

You can see Gale’s face overcome with pleasure as they ride you, their icy eyes glossed over with lust and their mouth wide open as they pant heavily with each pounding thrust.

“Does…it…feel good…kitten?” They gasp, grinding against you and pumping into you heavily. You don’t want to have to say “yes’, so you simply nod wearily, gritting your teeth as you try to contain your noises. You find, however, that you’re unable to for long, and soon begin to yelp with pleasure at being ridden. After several more pumps, you hear Gale give a breathy laugh.

“Are you going to come?” They ask you between thrusts, sliding one hand over your cheek and pressing their thumb in your open mouth again, rubbing at your tongue and lips. “Huh?”

You feel their body thrust harder against you as you begin to moan wildly and gasp in rhythm to their pumping.

“Come for me, kitten,” Gale breathily commands you, a growling grunt escaping from their throat. “Be a good girl and scream for me.”

You find yourself at your climax and begin to buck your hips into Gale’s cock, feeling your body respond to their pleasure. Your head throws back against your pillow, and you begin to let out a loud yell as you begin to come, still feeling Gale’s thumb pressed against your wet tongue. They continue to pump into you as you orgasm. You continue to ride them eagerly until you finally slow your pace, and you find that the ethereally handsome doctor does no more than watch with their stunning bright eyes focused so intently on you, a lustful smile painted wide on their face and just a hint of blushing discoloration poking through their dark cheeks. As their pace slows in tune with yours, you hear them give deep, breathy pants. They remain hovering over your body, slowly releasing their hold on your cheek and tongue and going back to grip the sheets again with each slowing thrust. Eventually, Gale pulls out of your pussy, their cock wet with your juices.

“Oh, you truly are something special,” They moan, gliding their hand gently and smoothly down your neck, breasts, and stomach as if examining you by touch. “You really do like being taken, don’t you kitten?”

You look away, avoiding Gale’s gaze as you try to regain your breath. You refuse to answer them, but they seem to already know what you’re feeling without having to hear it from you directly. With a smirk, Gale leans in to give your cheek a kiss before moving off of the bed entirely.

“I have something else I’d like to try,” they tell you with a gentle voice. “It’ll feel strange, but just trust me and do as I tell you, alright?”

“Wh..what are you going to do?” Your heart jumps a bit at the uncertainty. Gale laughs gently, grabbing something from the counter behind your bed, but cupping it in their hands so you can’t see it clearly.

“Turn over, on your knees,” they command you. You begin to feel uneasy, but oblige Gale’s orders yet again. You tremble slightly as you turn your body over, but are able to do so without too much difficulty. Your body feels much looser now that you’ve come, but you still shiver to think of what’s going to happen to you next.

You grip your sheets from under you as your position has fully shifted, and Gale’s hand touches your backside gently.

“Stay still and don’t move around, okay?” They instruct you. You hear the soft pop of a cap from behind you, followed by slimy, sticky sounds as Gale rubs their fingers together with some kind of substance that you hope to be lube.

“This will be a new sensation, but I want you to be ready for it, so I’ll be kind and take it slow.”

You gasp as you feel Gale’s hands separate the cheeks of your ass and start to massage your anus.

“Wh-what is that?!” You cry out, gripping your sheets and turning your head to try to see what the doctor is doing. “That feels weird!”

“It might at first,” Gale laughs softly, continuing to gently glide their finger around your rim. “I want you to feel it, get used to it. It’s much better that your first time doing this is with me. Most of the other men would have just started thrusting into you without preparing your body first. I know just how they are—even though they understand the human body so well, they’re still so clueless about how to handle it properly. At least I think so.”

You look down and blush at the sensation of being massaged, but wince at the thought of being entered so suddenly from behind. You want to believe that Gale is telling the truth, but you also don’t know how to feel about the idea of your ass being pounded into or touched. It’s a strange sensation, but Gale’s touch is warm. The wetness you feel, however, is the strangest part of all for you. You’re unaccustomed to feeling slippery there, but Gale does their best to keep you calm and steady, using their fingers gently and slowly.

“You are ours,” Gale tells you. “But, I think the men could do more to take care of their dolls. They don’t always. Even someone like Momma gets a little wild with this sort of thing. She forgets that new girls need to be prepped for it. That’s why I like to arrange these sorts of things with them, but I had to wait a while to see you because I wasn’t feeling particularly ready for it lately. You arrived as I was still feeling very feminine. When I’m Gale the girl, I don’t like to be like this. But as I am now, it feels good.”

You wince as you feel Gale’s slick finger slide into your asshole.

“Does it hurt, kitten?”

“N..no…” you shakily answer them, gripping the sheets even tighter. “It just feels strange.”

“It won’t soon,” Gale chuckles, proceeding to slowly slide their finger into you deeper. “Whether you like it I can’t say, but you’ll at least grow to get used to the sensation. Would you prefer it if I did this?”

You feel a finger from their other hand move around your waist and down toward your clit, rubbing against it gently as your ass is lightly penetrated by their other fingers. You gasp at the sensation, feeling more pleasure from the clitoral stimulation, yet finding it easier to accept the fingers inside your ass this way. You feel your body growing warm at both sensations working simultaneously. You almost want to move around in response and grind against Gale’s finger over your clit, but you don’t and instead remain still, letting them stimulate you. After a while of being touched and felt over both areas, Gale finally speaks up.

“You feel like you’re beginning to loosen up, so I’m going to stick it in now,” they tell you. You blush and grimace at the idea of having to take something bigger, but you try to suck it up and deal with it, knowing that you don’t have much of an option. You hear Gale spurting more lube into their hands, likely to rub on their cock. In a few moments, you feel the head of their dick pressing against your anus, with Gale using both hands to keep you spread open.

“Tell me if it does hurt, and I’ll slow down,” they reassure you as you begin to clench the sheets under you and grit your teeth. It doesn’t feel as though it hurts, but it’s an overall strange and invasive sensation. Your ass is wet with lube, and while you still feel somewhat loose from your previous orgasm and the fingerplay, you don’t know whether you can get accustomed to the sensation of being penetrated this way. You whimper as Gale slowly enters your body further and further, surprised at yourself for being able to take it. It feels relatively uncomfortable, but you find that Gale does a good job at going in slowly to make sure it isn’t entirely painful for you.

“It…it feels weird!” You tremble. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

“It’ll be okay,” Gale coos reassuringly, moving a hand back to your clit to stimulate it while they begin to slowly and gently thrust into you. “I’ll take good care of your body, kitten.”

“D-do you do this with everyone?” You begin to gasp as you feel the first thrust fully against your ass.

“I do, when I am this way,” They answer you simply. “But I like to do a variety of different things. Many of my visits are different. I treat each girl differently too, and I like different things when I feel like being submissive.”

They grunt as they pump into you again, slapping your ass with their crotch which causes a loud, wet sound to reverberate and echo across the room. You whimper at the sensation, but with each thrust, you can feel yourself loosening up more and more.

“I…” you gasp, feeling your face grow hot and red. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s so weird!”

“I know it’s strange for you, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless. You have so far, kitten.” Gale smirks as they give your ass another thrusting into, producing the same wet slapping noise again and making you yelp. “Do you like it?”

You feel their finger rubbing your clit more quickly now to stimulate your body more as they pump into you. Admittedly, the coupling of these sensations feels good, though you’re embarrassed to think so and remain unresponsive to Gale’s question.

You find that the thrusting becomes slightly faster the more your body grows accustomed to the sensation of a cock in your ass, and you soon find yourself feeling good with the overall experience as both it and your clit are stimulated and used. Eventually, you find yourself ducking down and panting heavily into the bed as your body is pumped into, burning with excitement to a point that you start to back up into Gale’s cock eagerly, finally finding yourself succumbing to its pleasures.

The both of you work in unison, with you bucking against Gale, and them rubbing your clit eagerly while panting and moaning to help turn you on more and more. You find that Gale doesn’t go quite as fast inside your ass as they did in your pussy, yet they are able to satisfy you nonetheless. The pressure inside your body as Gale’s cock slides in and out of your hole no longer feels painful, but rather pleasurable. It’s still a strange sensation for you, but you slowly grow to accept and enjoy it the more you feel Gale inside of you.

After a while longer of being ridden, you begin to quicken your pants and groans. You feel an intense sensation welling up inside your body, telling you that you want to come as you continue to grind up against Gale eagerly. You pant and grunt with each pump more and more until you suddenly squirt out in response to the pleasure, finally orgasming. Gale laughs at you gently and lets their finger drop from your clit, gradually slowing the pace of their thrusts until everything is finally settled down.

You shiver and moan as they remove their cock from your ass, and you feel your hole wet and open after it’s released. Your knees buckle under you, and you fall to the bed, spreading your legs to feel the comfort of the cold air after your pounding.

“How darling you are, kitten,” Gale giggles from behind you, taking their clean finger and gliding it down your neck and back slowly. “This was very fun. Maybe we’ll do it again someday, if I feel like it.”

You blush, still gripping the sheets under you and burying your head in the pillow with embarrassment. You don’t want to have to look Gale in the face after having your ass rammed into, but they don’t seem to mind this and instead work on cleaning themselves up. You can hear them opening their harness again to replace their erect cock with the packer, so you presume now that they’re finally finished toying with you.

“You did a good job of taking me, kitten” they compliment you while pulling their pants back on. “I think you’ll start to enjoy the sensation more if you just have it done to you more often. Other than that, I think you did very well today. You were adoringly receptive of my touch.”

You suddenly feel your body being turned over by both of Gale’s hands, and you’re forced to face their icy gaze yet again. You try to look away, but they lean in to give you a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Maybe we can try new things together another time,” they smile warmly, giving your cheek a quick, gentle brush before fully pulling away. In embarrassment, you wrap your arms around your naked body and press your knees together while still laying on the bed. You don’t feel tired, but assume that you’ll be put out again as always, eagerly awaiting the wave of sleep in embarrassment at this encounter. You don’t know how to feel about being toyed with anally, nor do you know how to feel about Gale. You find it strange how gentle they were, taking things slow with your body when you’ve endured so much more in your time here. For as strange as it is, it’s simultaneously almost comforting.

Suddenly, you hear the door to your room open, and both you and the mostly-dressed Gale turn your attention to it in surprise. You notice that they’re in the middle of buttoning their shirt, having slung their lab coat and tie over their shoulder.

“Gale?” You hear Yosuke’s voice with as much surprise. He’s standing by the door, and behind him is a white-bodied figure with a black gas mask over their face. You can’t see them entirely, but they seem to have a tight white-hooded covering around their head which prevents you from making out any human features at all. You suppose this is one of the people you saw the day of your latex encounter, but you can’t entirely remember.

“Chisaka? You’re early.” Gale’s voice lowers, their brow raised in confusion. However, they lower their eyes in thought, reconsidering their statement. “No, we did start a little later than scheduled. She was asleep longer than expected.”

Yosuke turns his olive gaze in your direction and smiles at your naked frame as you sit on the bed, desperately covering yourself while blushing heavily. His piercing stare makes you shiver and avoid his eyes.

“Should we put her out?” Gale puts a hand on one hip and stops acknowledging you entirely. However, Yosuke shakes his head.

“I’ll take her,” he tells them with a reassuring touch to their shoulder. With this, Gale nods and starts to walk past Yosuke and out of the room, but stops to turn their head toward you with a gentle smile on their face.

“See you, kitten,” they call out, then leaving you behind without another word. Yosuke enters the room and picks up your gown off the floor, with the strange white figure following from behind him to begin, you presume, cleaning up the room.

You can see that they’re wearing some kind of form-fitting coat that resembles a lab coat, but isn’t quite the same style as most of the others you’ve seen. It’s closed, enveloping their torso and drooping down to just at their knees. They’re wearing white pants to match, though they are enveloped by black rubber boots which extend downward from just below the knee and hug the pants tightly, the excess fabric hanging slightly on the edges of the boots. On their hands are also long black rubber gloves that climb up the arm and end just before the elbows. You presume this getup is all just a uniform that cleaners have to wear to prevent getting anything on them. However, you feel that it’s a bit excessive for something as simple as after-sex cleanup. Perhaps there’s a reason they dress so excessively, but you aren’t sure what that reason might be, nor do you think it best to dwell on it.

Yosuke moves toward you, placing your rose gown over your chest. You cling to it tightly to cover yourself, looking away from him. You don’t want to have to acknowledge him now, despite almost wanting to see him again and being disappointed about not having done so after your last encounter with him.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my pet?” He smiles at you, brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “Gale’s one of our kinder doctors. I figured you might like someone who would take things slowly after my last visit with you.”

You refuse to answer Yosuke, embarrassed and still somewhat frustrated by his last words to you. He does not appear to acknowledge this at all, but instead quietly scoops you up in his arms and holds you tightly against his body. Surprised by the sudden shift in position, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself, almost feeling as if you’re going to fall despite him trying to reassure you with his touch that he has you steady.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Yosuke speaks suddenly, turning away to take you toward the showers. You glance over your doctor’s shoulders at the worker in the room with you, and find that they are facing you and standing still in silence, awaiting your departure. You can’t tell if the person behind the mask is really looking at you, but it feels as though they are.

You are carried out of the room then and can only watch as the worker’s frame is hidden from sight by the shutting of the examination room’s metal door.

Chapter 17: Rest Eight - Violin

“Do you need any help?”

You whip your head toward the shower door and scowl as Yosuke leans in from behind it.

“No, I’m fine!” you spit back, rinsing off your body with only water. “Just stay there.”

“I could come in if I wanted, you know,” your doctor laughs at you. “I have been taking care of you when you’re unconscious, after all. But fine, I’ll wait here.”

You don’t know whether to acknowledge anything that happened prior, or whether to even start discussing Yosuke’s last words to you. Even after having talked with Cyrus about the ordeal, you don’t feel ready to confront it now despite being so insistent on doing so before. Somehow, being faced with Yosuke directly has changed your tune. You do think, however, that you can stand to talk to him normally if only the topic doesn’t arise again.

“Who was that person?” You ask him, still letting the image of the worker linger in your mind. “The one dressed in white?”

They looked almost alien to you without any distinctive human features visible. They probably weren’t much of a threat, but you admit you do feel a little threatened by the image of someone whose face you can’t see, whose expression you can’t read. Maybe you feel that way because of your experience with your latex assailant, but you don’t really want to have to think of him yet again.

“A facility worker,” Yosuke answers you from the other side of the shower door, breaking your thought process. “You don’t need to concern yourself with them. They only do what they’re told and nothing more.”

“Like we do…” you mutter, putting the shower head back in its place, but Yosuke doesn’t hear you. After shutting the water off, you rub your bottom and feel just a tinge of soreness, but not enough for it to be entirely painful. All things considered, you are thankful that Gale took their time with you, but feel unsure about whether you want to see them again if they plan to do the same thing to your body. You recall them mentioning that they change frequently, so you can only hope that you’ll get some less uncomfortable variety out of them.

Suddenly, the shower door opens and you look up to see Yosuke with a towel in his hands, stretching his arms out to help you dry your hair.

“I can do it myself!” You blush, trying to pull his hands away but failing. Yosuke smiles at you.

“You were taking too long,” he teases, rubbing your scalp. “If you keep doing that, you won’t have the privilege of being awake for these showers.”

“You say that as if I had the privilege before.”

“Incidentally, you keep being knocked out,” Yosuke shakes his head. He finishes drying your scalp and moves the towel down to your neck, pausing as he reaches it to look at you. “I don’t control when they drug you, but they won’t under certain circumstances.”

“Do you mean they’re able to check whether they need to put us under without being there?” You widen your eyes. “Can they see me in those rooms? Have they been watching me this whole ti-“

Yosuke puts a finger to your lips.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” he tells you. “And don’t be so ashamed either. Most all the doctors are going to see you naked one way or another. But no, there are no cameras in the examination rooms.”

You exhale through your nose while scowling at him, but say nothing more as he continues to dry your body off.

“Did you enjoy Gale?” Yosuke changes the subject, wrapping the towel around your waist now. “They’re fond of girls, but have been known to enjoy our boys under very specific circumstances. I asked them to see you today because I wanted you to try something new for me.”

You look away, blushing.

“You wouldn’t have done it yourself?” You ask him, knowing full well what he’s referring to.

“Did you want me to?” Your doctor raises a brow, smirking. You shake your head, but still refuse to meet his gaze. However, you assume he wants to do it with you another time, given how he phrased his words.

“I wanted you to experience it with someone who takes things slow,” Yosuke continues. “I could have easily been the first, but I don’t think you’d have wanted to have your first anal play be with someone so big. I want you to get more accustomed with the feeling before you try it with me.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” you mutter, making your doctor laugh.

“My pet, your holes are very different from one another. A vagina relaxes far easier than an anus. Don’t be so difficult. You should be happy that I tried to accommodate you.”

“You keep saying that like you mean it.”

Suddenly, you feel Yosuke drop the towel over your lower body and pull you closer to him with it. You gasp and blush as he wraps his arm around your waist. You’re able to feel his crotch against yours now, and when you try to pull away, he backs you up against the shower wall.

“Don’t make so many assumptions about me,” he coos, smiling warmly. With his other hand, he gently lifts your leg up, your knee dangling as it bends in the air. You blush as you feel your naked flesh against his clothes.

“You should thank me more for taking care of you,” Yosuke goes on. “I want you to feel good, but you’re still mine. I could very easily hurt you if I wanted. You know that, don’t you?”

“Please stop,” you look away, moving your hands on his chest as if to push him off of you, but refraining from doing so. You know that if you do, he’s just going to get worked up again.

“You remember what I said?” Yosuke leans into your ear. He chuckles as you turn away from him, blushing at the memory of his words. “I said it for a reason. You’re special to me. You’re important to me. Don’t forget that.”

He leans forward and kisses your cheek slowly, but drops your leg and pulls away from your body, taking the towel in his hands with him.

“Go get dressed,” he commands, stepping out of the shower and leaving you in there with an embarrassed look on your face. “You can see your friends after.”

You quietly do as told and eventually are led out of the showers and through the residential hallway, toward the recreational one. Much to your surprise, you see Mom standing at the records room door which is now entirely open. She catches sight of you after you round the corner and immediately gives a bright, cheeky smile.

“Hi, pretty baby,” She greets eagerly. “Mommy hasn’t seen you in a while! How have you been?”

“…Fine, Mom,” you look away. However, she steps forward and takes your head in both her hands, tilting it up so that you look at her.

“We ought to arrange another playdate soon,” She giggles. “I have some fun ideas on what to do with you next time!”

She looks up at Yosuke and smiles her pink-lipped smile.

“What do you say, cutie doctor?” She asks him eagerly, feigning a babyish voice. “How about you arrange me another date with your pretty girl?”

“If you like,” Yosuke responds, unmoved. “Probably not anytime soon, though. I have some things planned out for her already.”

“I hope it’s not too far away!” Mom turns her attention back to you and gives your forehead a quick kiss before releasing your head. She stands back up and turns on her heels, heading back into the office to open the gate for you.

“Do you really just let her talk to you that way?” You look at Yosuke in embarrassment. He nods.

“I find it best not to argue with your mother,” he exhales. “She can be a handful when she’s upset. I’m not always in the mood for her playful energy, but usually accept it.”

You raise a brow. Hearing Yosuke’s reaction to her almost makes him seem human.

The metal gate before you then drags open, and your doctor guides you in before it shuts behind you again. You turn to look at him, but notice that he’s already rounded the corner, leaving you to the rest of your time. You almost feel insulted by this, but try to think nothing of it as you’re given your freedom for the day.

Feeling just a bit more relieved now, you decide to try out the room labelled MUSIC ROOM, curious as to what it looks like. As the doors open before you, you can hear someone playing some kind of string instrument. You’re surprised you couldn’t hear it from the hallway, but suppose that this room is soundproof somehow. Perhaps many others are as well, and you just hadn’t noticed.

You are unable to see who’s playing since they’re hidden behind a tall, wide, grey, L-shaped cabinet that is placed right in front of the doors. It seems to encase the entrance, with the only room to progress past it being somewhere to its left. The cabinet has a series of cubbies of various sizes, with different sorts of cases that you presume to hold instruments scattered about on them. Each cubby and case is labelled, and there is a long poster with detailed instructions for instrument care by type plastered against the wall beside the door.

The floor has a deep purple tone to it and is almost regal-looking. The walls, however, are still white as ever, though there are a few sheets scattered about on them with instructions and notes about certain kinds of instruments. You walk over to the giant cabinet and touch one of the bigger, metallic cases. It feels bumpy under your fingers as you glide along it, but it’s a nice feeling. You can see general labels on each cubby such as STRINGS and PERCUSSION, with each instrument case specifically labelled by what it is. As you touch one of the VIOLIN cases, you wonder whether you know how to play an instrument. You don’t think that you do, but you at least know what some of these instruments are and can recall what they sound like. The sweet melody being played in the room by the mystery person behind the cabinet is a violin, you can gather. It’s a suave, soft melody, one that rings in the ears delightfully. You aren’t familiar with the tune, but you do like it.

You find yourself curious to know who’s playing, so you head past the cabinet only to be met with a room that is much larger than you expected. To your right, here are a variety of chairs and music stands neatly stacked and placed aside one another, just behind the cabinet by the corner where it meets against the wall. Ahead of you, there is a wide set of five stairs that are a part of and lead up to a slightly raised platform where a black grand piano of magnificent size is stationed, though it is covered by a cloth so as to protect it. The rest of the room is wide open, but there is a cabinet laden with smaller accessories for each instrument and booklets of songs, also neatly arranged and labelled with a set of instructions on the wall next to it.

There is enough space between the cabinet and the chairs in the corner for several people to stand or sit, and you see Eight standing there with his back turned toward you. In his left hand is a beautiful, dark brown wooden violin. The base of it is pressed against his left chin and shoulder while he glides the bow across the strings with his other arm. He moves gently and gracefully as he plays and concentrates on the melody he produces. You don’t want to interrupt Eight, so you just stand there a few feet behind him, listening with interest as the gentle melody glides into your ears.

Eventually, he finishes his song and drops the violin from his neck, rolling his shoulder around. You suppose he’s been in here for a while the way he’s moving about.

“That was pretty,” you finally speak up now that there is a break of silence in the room. Evidently, you’ve surprised the boy, since he jumps slightly and almost drops his instrument. Luckily, he clutches its neck before it can slip away. Eight turns his body to face you, a wide-eyed look on his face which quickly turns to a scowl.

“Get out,” he practically growls at you. “I’m busy.”

“I wanted to see this place,” you insist with a shake of your head. “I have the right to, you know.”

Eight glowers at you, clutching the violin tightly.

“Well, you’ve seen it. Now leave.”

“You didn’t kick me out of the library when you were there,” You point out, standing your ground. “Why is this any different?”

“Why do I have to tell you?” Eight’s hand curls around the bow for the violin, gripping it tightly.

“Why are you so goddamn mean to me?” You demand, growing frustrated. “I came here out of curiosity and now I have to deal with your shit. Why? I haven’t done a thing to you!”

“I’m like this with everyone,” Eight shoots back at you. “You’re just the only one who hasn’t gotten the hang of knowing when to leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”

You shake your head.

“Then at least let me listen to you play. I thought the music was lovely, is that wrong?”

Eight scoffs as if finding your remark amusingly stupid.

“Of course it’s lovely. That’s why I played it.”

You glare at him, exhaling through your nostrils in frustration, but neither of you seem to say anything after this. You refuse to leave, and Eight refuses to continue playing. So, the both of you stand there in silence, glaring at each other like stubborn children.

Eventually, Eight sighs in annoyance.

“Just be quiet,” he tells you, turning around again and lifting the violin back to his chin and shoulder. He begins to play another melody, one a lot less gentle and lively. This particular song is melancholy, its tone rich with sorrow. It almost sounds like the violin is crying, but you find its melody wonderful even with such a sad tone. You admit that the violin has a lovely sound. Anyone could probably play any sort of song and make it sound good, so long as they knew what they were doing.

Eventually, the song ends, and Eight looks back at you from over his shoulder.

“How do you know how to play?” You ask him. “You do it so beautifully.”

“I thought you were going to be quiet,” is Eight’s only response. This makes you pout, but he begrudgingly answers your question after you do. “I don’t know. I don’t remember where I learned to play or for how long I have. The first time I came here, it was instinctual. I picked up the violin and just played. It felt right.”

He drops the violin down by his side again while still holding it, but does not turn around to face you.

“Some of you seem to have a skill you’re good at,” you note. “Nine’s good at basketball, and Blue knows how to draw. And then there’s you, with musical ability. I don’t think these are things we’d have had the luxury of learning to do if we were homeless orphans or something before we were kidnapped, like the doctors seem to imply.”

“Are you going to tell me you think the doctors are lying to us about having been so alone before we came here?” Eight scoffs. “As if you were the first one to think so?”

“Eight, why do you hate us Numbers so much?” You frown at his tone. “You act as though we’re all against you but we’re not. We would be so happy to interact with you nicely if you just-”

“I don’t have interest in anything the other Numbers have to say,” Eight interrupts you, turning to face you finally. “I don’t care about them any more than I do the doctors. I put up with them and talk to them when I have to, but I don’t particularly enjoy it. Besides, you know how they talk about me. I’m detached, but I’m not deaf. I hear everything that goes on here.”

“They would ease up if you made the effort to participate,” you tell him. “They think Nine is detached the way you are, but that’s only because nobody has made the effort to get to know her enough. She’s not against being included, and some of the other Numbers even said they’d be willing to get to know her.”

“And you think I’m a thing like her?” Eight scowls. “Why are you so insistent on being nice to me? Why are you trying to get me to be a part of your group? I don’t need them, and I certainly don’t want to participate in anything they do. They’re okay with being here, and I find it disgusting.”

“They aren’t okay with it!” you try to clarify. “They just know they can’t fight it. Is that wrong?”

“Yes,” Eight answers you simply. “They’re too weak to fight anymore. Even someone like Violet gives herself up just to make it through the day. I thought she was going to be better.”

“I don’t want to give in either,” you admit. “But there’s nothing wrong with doing it if it’s all you can do. Someone like Blue isn’t some kind of an imbecile, like you might think.”

“Did Cyrus tell you that?” Eight remarks snidely. “You’ll just listen to anyone who tells you what to think?”

“I listened to you, didn’t I?” You shoot back, balling your hand into a fist.

Eight glowers.

“Stop trying to change my mind,” he spits out. “You’re really not doing yourself any favors. If you want me to respect you even a little bit, you’ll listen to me when I say I want you to leave me alone.”

Frustrated, you step toward Eight and snatch the violin from his hands, surprising him as his face twists with offense.

“The others might be okay with you being an asshole, but I’m not!” you cry in anger. “I’m sick of avoiding you, I’m sick of feeling like a piece of shit because of everything you say. I get enough of that from the doctors! I keep wanting to trust you, but all you do is bully everyone and look down on them for no reason. Of course you shouldn’t trust the doctors, of course you have the right to be mad about what happens here. But the Numbers aren’t your enemies, they’re just victims to all of this like you. Why are you so stubborn that you can’t see that?”

“You think I don’t already know all that?” Eight scoffs at you. He makes no attempt to reach back for his violin, but does point the bow at your throat, forcing you to raise your chin. “I’m not stupid, Ten. Don’t think so poorly of me like everyone else does.”

“Don’t think so poorly of them either,” you persist, refusing to back down even with the tip of the bow pressing against your skin. “We want to be your family, but you have to let us be. You can’t just do everything alone forever. It’ll hurt more if you do. It might even get you killed!”

Eight widens his eyes slightly, but remains with a furious look on his face. Silence falls yet again as both of you remain where you are, though Eight slowly drops the bow from your neck and lets it fall on the floor.

“Fuck!” He grits his teeth, pressing his hand to his forehead. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed quiet and let me play?”

“I do want to hear you,” you reassure him. “But you’re so frustrating. Don’t you get sick of acting this way?”

“I’m not acting, I’m angry,” Eight corrects you with an embittered sigh. “As I should be. Why do you even care so much?”

“Because talking to the Numbers and getting to spend time with them is the only thing I look forward to,” you admit, looking down. “If I’m going to be here forever, I might as well be comfortable with the people I’m with. I’ll fight the doctors as much as I can, but I don’t want to have to fight you too. I don’t have the strength.”

“And you really think it’d just be easy,” Eight half-laughs, “for me to waltz up to everyone and suddenly ask if I can be a part of their group? It’s not that simple.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

Eight drops his hand from his head and looks at you sternly, though his expression is far less hostile than before.

“Everyone’s understanding,” you continue. “Maybe they might bark and bite a little at you for how you acted before, but they could still come to accept you if you just gave them a try and let them in. We’re a family, aren’t we?”

Eight says nothing, but sighs with exhaustion. He walks over to the piano and sits on the bench, facing you and leaning on his elbows on his knees. He puts his fingers together and stares at the ground.

“If you wanted a show, you’re not going to get it,” he mutters. “I’m done for today.”

“You don’t have to stop playing on my account,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry if I’m a little annoying, but the way you talked to me frustrated me. You frustrate me.”

“I was going to say the same about you,” Eight lowers his brows. Your cheeks grow red and hot as he insults you.

“Shut up!” You yell back. “Can’t you attempt to be a normal human being for just a second?”

Eight looks away from you, turning his head to avoid having to look in your direction. He says nothing in response, and you feel yourself growing annoyed by his stubbornness. Quietly, you pick up the bow from the floor and move toward the piano steps and up toward him. You climb each step until you’re directly in front of Eight and shove both the violin and the bow into his hands, making him turn suddenly as he feels them on his skin. He takes the things, but looks at you with confusion.

“Play for me,” you command insistently. “I want to hear the music.”

Eight exhales through his nose as he looks at the instrument in his hand, but he does rise after a moment of contemplation. He steps down silently from the piano platform and moves back toward where he’d stood earlier, facing you but still refusing to look you in the eye. Without hesitation, he brings the violin back to his chin and begins to play another melody, closing his eyes as he plays. This one is somber and gentle, slow, but somewhat sweet. He moves smoothly as he plays, his whole body acting as one with the stringed instrument. You sit down on the piano steps with your knees tucked close to you and your arms wrapped around them, watching Eight intently and letting the beautiful song flow into your ears like honey. You find yourself closing your eyes as it progresses, enjoying its lull. After a long while of being enamored by such a sound, the song finally ends, and Eight drops the violin from his head, letting it fall yet again to his side.

“It was beautiful,” you compliment him with a warm smile, opening your eyes again. Eight stays quiet for a moment, but eventually speaks up.

“I know these songs by heart,” he mumbles. “They’re not in any of the booklets, but I’ve had them in my head since I came here and I always play them. I don’t remember what they’re called or who wrote them, but they’re important to me. They help me keep my head above the water when I feel like I’m starting to drown here.”

“Has anyone else heard you play?”

“No,” Eight shakes his head slowly. “I prefer to keep it to myself. I usually make everyone leave when I’m in here. Any other place I can tolerate their presence, but never here.”

He looks at you with his green eyes and lowers his brows slightly.

“Obviously you decided to stay,” he points out. “You’re stubborn, you know.”

“The other Numbers might really like how you play if you were to let them listen,” you tell him, almost smiling. “You play really well. You could really help make them feel better with your music.”

“I don’t know if they’d really want to hear it,” Eight shakes his head. He sounds frustrated, but his tone is softer and lower than it was earlier. “Look, can you please just go? I need to be alone. You got your performance. That’s it.”

You sigh, but oblige him, pushing off your knees and standing up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him. “But I am glad I got to hear you. Thank you for the song.”

He says nothing, but follows you with his eyes as you round the corner of the cabinet by the entrance and disappear from his sight.

As you enter the hallway again, you feel a tightness in your chest. Standing up to Eight felt good, but you genuinely hope that he’ll consider your words. You wonder if the others had ever spoken to him the way you just did, but you don’t think they have since they always seem so nonchalant about him. He is resilient even against people who won’t hurt him, and the others are simply accepting of that. You, for some reason, aren’t. Or at the very least, you’re not willing to overlook it.

You finally take a minute to breathe, but eventually decide to move on from the music room. Feeling interested in more of the arts, you decide then to move toward the room marked THEATER, wondering what kind of theater it really is. You don’t recall being familiar with anything relating to traditional theater, but you can’t remember if you’ve ever been in a movie theater either. At the very least, you’re able to discern and define the two.

You make your way to the theater doors and watch as the glow of a large screen emits from before you once they open. The room is dark like the arcade, with the only light being emitted from the screen before you and a projector just to the left of the entrance. You’re almost a little disappointed that it isn’t a traditional stage at first, but notice that the projector screen is retractable, and that there is a gap behind it where a traditional stage is. You suppose then that this is a theater stage, only the screen is there for films. You wonder whether that invalidates any need for a lounge TV, but suppose there’s no harm in having both as a viable option.

The walls of the theater are void of any light source, and the floor extends flatly ahead of you just a few feet or so before dipping downward at an angle. There are about three rows of what you can only describe as long beds on the incline, but the area is not very big since the audience likely wouldn’t be either. These beds are upright for people to sit comfortably on and lean back against while still being able to see whatever’s in front of them, and there are plush pillows nestled against the inclines here and there. You also notice that each row has a bit of an awning over the beds, concealing them. The only reason you can even see the pillows on the beds is because of a small series of steps extending down the middle of the auditorium, like an aisle, with each opening of the beds on either side clearly visible to you.

You aren’t really able to make out much of the colors in the room at first because of how dark it is, but with certain shots of the film being played, the room is lit brightly. You then notice that the sheets on each bed are a deep burgundy color. The floor is as well, but the bedframes that are connected to the floor directly are grey and metallic, making each row of beds look like a grey metal wave with a sheeted burgundy interior. Unlike the beds in your rooms, they’re very low and simply jut out from the floor, so you would have to kneel or bend down to place yourself on them.

Overall, it looks like a very comfortable place, though you wonder why the makeshift auditorium isn’t just lined with chairs instead. You can’t complain, though—It does seem like you could just come in here and nap, if not for the noise from whatever film is being played. You look at the projector screen to see some black and white film with a man and a woman sharing a dramatic conversation about life and love, but it doesn’t much interest you. However, you do peek over at the auditorium beds as you hear someone shuffling around. With the way the beds are angled upward and shaded by the curved awnings, you can’t exactly see who this person is.

You quietly step down the walkway until you reach the bed with this mystery person, peeking over and seeing a pair of legs jutting out on the bed with a lavender gown just barely covering the thighs.

“Nine?” You call out with surprise. Lav’s legs shuffle about as she hears you, and she pops her head out from under the awning. You can see that her hair is down this time, and that she has her hairband around her wrist instead.

“Oh hey!” She greets you with a warm smile. “I haven’t seen you around lately. Wanna lay down?”

“It does look comfortable,” you laugh, kneeling over and ducking your head under the awning. You adjust yourself on the bed by Lav’s right side, placing your back against a fluffy pillow and feeling comfortable as your body sinks into it.

“So, instead of watching movies in the rec room, you can come here?” You ask. Lav nods, placing both of her hands over one another on top of her stomach and staring intently at the screen.

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat,” she comments. “I come here when I just wanna chill out or something. I don’t usually like to go in the rec room with everyone else if they’re all there. I don’t really talk to them a lot, so I’d feel a little weird and invasive just suddenly joining them, if that makes sense?”

“Do they ever come in here?”

“Sometimes. They usually focus on themselves though. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place packed with everyone at once.”

“I haven’t really been around everyone at once either since my first day here,” you admit. “You weren’t even awake for that. But sometimes I’ll catch a few at a time, if I’m lucky.”

“You making friends with everyone?” Lav chuckles, but immediately clutches her stomach in pain. “Ow.”

You look over at her with worry, reaching a hand over instinctively as if wanting to help. However, she stops you.

“I kinda took a bit of rough play this morning,” Lav explains with a light sigh. “I guess because I’m supposedly one of the tough girls here, I’m saddled with a sadist. It’s really annoying.”

“I’m sorry…” you put a hand to your mouth. “I hope it’s not the same person who roughed up Cyrus before. I saw him with bruises on his head a while ago.”

“It might be. Not a lot of doctors play all that rough around here that I know of other than her and another one, but way less. The one who roughed me up is a real bitch. A selective one at that. But I wouldn’t put it past others to be too rough.” Lav shifts her legs around and places one ankle under the other. “Anyway, we just have to grin and bear it. But on the upside, if we get roughed up too much, we might get to have some time off. They don’t want us broken.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that a plus…” you look down. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“What about you?” Lav turns her head toward you, gazing at you with her amber eyes.

“Me?” You look at her with confusion as to what she means, a brow raised. “What about me?”

“You seem a little more confident than when I last saw you,” Lav smiles. “You been holding up alright?”

“I think I’m just on edge if anything,” you exhale, brushing some hair out of your face. “I’m slowly adjusting, though I am still pretty frustrated. But…I did just kind of talk to Eight before I came here, so that might also be why I’m out of sorts.”

“Yikes, how’d that go?”

You look up in thought, trying to process how to exactly answer your companion. After a bit of contemplation, you shake your head just slightly.

“I think he’s going to be mad at me for a little while,” you suppose. “And especially so. I kind of snapped at him.”

“Damn, you really did grow a backbone,” Lav laughs before her pain cuts her short. She clutches her stomach again and gives a slight cough. “Fuck, ow.”

“I mean, I think I might have gotten to him just a little?” You half-question yourself. “I don’t know. I hope I did though. I really don’t want to have to hear him be a jerk forever. Not to me or anyone else.”

“Only time will tell,” Lav says in an over-the-top serious tone while making a forcibly stern face. She chuckles lightly after she sees you laugh in response, but tries not to exert her breath too hard in order to avoid feeling pain again.

“I really wish I were on the court right now,” she sighs. “I could really stand to blow off some steam. But I guess relaxing in here is nice. No idea what this movie’s about, but I’ve been just kind of enjoying the comfort.”

“There’s a stage behind that screen, right?” You question, to which Lav nods in response.

“Yeah! When we wanna mess around with props and stuff, we’ll just press a button by the door and the thing lifts up,” she explains. “It’s pretty neat, actually. We can all get together to watch a movie in the dark, or we can just mess around on a stage with cheap costumes and props. Two and Three spend a lot of time in here for that reason. They act pretty kiddish for their age, whatever that is. Definitely not kid age.”

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“I guess not,” Lav shrugs. “I feel a little jealous that they’re able to pull off that whole being happy thing without too much effort. They feel genuinely innocent, even though they’ve been here way longer than me. Unless it’s just a visage.”

“It’s likely just how they cope,” you muse, staring up at the awning above you. “Everyone seems to have their own thing. I just use you guys to help me.”

“That can’t possibly last forever, though.” Lav gives you a worried look. “Maybe you don’t want to have to hear it, but we’re not going to be here forever. We might get sick and die, we might get hurt, we might overdose…I don’t know. This place pretty much has you spin a wheel to see what happens to you. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll live a long happy life here. But nobody is that lucky, not even someone like Cyrus who quite actually preceded all of us.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you can’t just rely on others forever,” Lav turns her head toward the screen. “Ten, there were people before us. I never knew any of the other Numbers aside from two of them, but they didn’t last long enough for me to really know them well before they disappeared. If I had relied on them like you rely on us…I might have lost it when they disappeared.”

“I…guess that’s true,” you lower your eyes. Hearing this so suddenly makes your heart drop, but you want to believe Lav’s point no matter how much you wish it wasn’t a possibility. “But I don’t know what else I can do to keep myself afloat here. Not yet, anyway. Nothing’s really come to me yet. I’m not creative, sporty, or smart like some of you.”

“You could do what I do and make your body your own,” your companion shrugs her shoulders. However, you chuckle at her in response.

“I can’t play basketball naked, it’s really not my thing,” you tease her. “I’m no good at sports, and I’m still pretty bashful about being nude around others.”

Lav shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Look, you wanna keep a clear head and all right?”

You nod, but remain unsure of where she’s going.

“Okay, so you don’t want the doctors here to let you believe they own your body,” Lav continues. “So what? Own your body instead.”

“How…?”

“You really don’t know, huh?” Lav blushes and lowers her eyes. She turns her body toward you, bending her elbow and resting her head in her hand while she lays on her side.

“Want me to teach you?”

Chapter 18: Visit Eight - Exploration

“Y-you’re not talking about touching me, are you?” You blush. Lav shakes her head.

“No, I mean you touching yourself,” she explains, blushing. “You know how the doctors sometimes masturbate over or on you, right? It’s like that, only you’re doing it for yourself. You touch yourself to make you feel good.

You stare at her with your mouth slightly agape, unsure of how to exactly take this information.

“Wouldn’t that just make me as gross as the doctors?” You question her, sitting upright more. “If I just touch myself because I want to feel good, I mean. Isn’t that literally just what they do?”

“Not at all,” Lav lowers a brow. “You’d be touching yourself because you want to take control of when and how you feel good. It’s not fetishistic to want to feel some kind of pleasure…I don’t think. It’s a basic human desire. If you control when you feel it and aren’t forcing someone else to watch or something, then it’s not a thing like what the doctors do. They’re all selfish and controlling. You’re just taking that control back for yourself. They can’t tell you not to masturbate if you do it by yourself.”

Your face grows redder. “Have you been doing that all this time? In these areas?”

“Ten, I’m not gross,” Lav giggles softly. “I do it in my room. I have time to myself here and there, so I take the opportunity to play with myself when I’m alone.”

You look down, still blushing. You’d never thought about touching yourself once while here. The thought of being used as a sex doll by the other doctors had really put you off of the idea of having sex normally, or even exploring your sexuality. Never had you considered it to be in your control. Having Lav explain this to you now feels strange, though. As it is, you recall feeling uneasy at the idea of two Numbers having sex behind your back until you caught them. The idea of being taught how to do it yourself even by someone you trust still doesn’t feel normal, but you don’t want to completely ignore your friend’s advice.

“Have you not seen any woman touch herself before?” Lav questions you intently. “Not even Ma or anyone?”

“No, not at all,” you refuse to look Lav in the eyes. “It’s mostly just been men. One of them watched me while they did it, and others just did it over me.”

“Do you want me to help you learn?” Your companion offers. “If it’s that weird to you, you don’t have to say yes. I just thought…”

She looks away.

“Y’know…I wanted to help.”

“I just don’t know how I feel about it coming from a Number,” you admit, blushing. “And I’m not really used to girls either. Mom was the first woman I was touched by, as far as I know.”

“Ma’s probably not the best for your first,” Lav winces. “I don’t think anyone here is good for your first anything, really.”

“I’m still alive after dealing with her,” you half-joke. “I suppose that’s worth something, right?”

Lav smiles at you, but she can tell that you’re uncomfortable.

“Look…we can forget about it if you want,” she offers, scratching the back of her head with her free hand. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t really respond right away. You’re not sure how to take this information, but you do feel like you can trust someone like Lav, or even most of the other Numbers, with stuff like this. You think it over, but shake your head after a little while.

“I don’t mind,” you finally answer her, looking up to meet her gaze. “I trust you. What do I have to do?”

“First of all, lie back down,” Lav laughs softly. “And let me guide your hand with my hand at first, okay? Just tell me if it starts to feel too weird and we’ll stop.”

You inhale slowly, then exhale.

“…Okay.”

You lie back down with your arms at your sides, looking straight up with a red face. Lav leans over toward you and gently picks up your hand, gliding it down to your legs.

“When you do this, you can think of anything you like,” she begins, her voice now hushed and gentle. “You can think of a person or an act, anything at all. The point is to feel good, so you have to think of what makes you feel good without feeling selfish or wrong about it. If there’s something that you have never tried and want to, you can also think about the possibility of doing it in fantasy.”

With her other hand, she lifts up the hem of your gown to expose your panties.

“Is this okay?” She asks you. You say nothing, but nod. Lav guides your hand to your crotch and leaves it hovering there. “You can start in a number of ways. Some girls like to use their other hand to play with other parts of their body like their breasts, ears, or mouth. You can also do it in a variety of positions, but laying on your back is usually the most common and simple way. You can start by rubbing yourself through your panties with a few fingers if you like, or you can start directly with skin-to-skin contact. It might feel strange at first, and you might feel like it’s wrong to do it, but it’s perfectly natural. Do you want to give that a try?”

“O-okay,” you agree. You extend two of your fingers downward and begin to run them up and down your labia from behind your underwear. It feels strange to touch yourself, especially in front of Lav. However, you want to understand how this works and want to trust her to guide you.

“You can do it however it feels best,” Lav informs you, her sweet breath hitting your face. “You can run your fingers up and down like that, wiggle your clit around, or immediately start using fingers. It all depends on what you want. If you’re not ready to penetrate yourself yet, you can do a variety of things to psych yourself up like rubbing your thighs, massaging your breasts, or even things like tickling yourself to get your body ready. You want to be wet when you do this. You want it to feel good.”

She looks down at you still rubbing yourself and smiles.

“Do you want me to help?”

“N-no, I want to do it myself,” you breathe, feeling your body slowly responding to your own touch.

“If you like, you can also stimulate your clit with your thumb, the palm of your hand, or another hand entirely,” Lav instructs. “You can do it a number of ways, using one or multiple fingers. You can play with it softly by rubbing it, or you can more firmly wiggle it around. We can’t really use toys or lube in our bedroom, but you can use random objects to help you if you need. You can also sit or lay forward on something and rub your body against it to help stimulate your clit if you like, but for now, just consider the first few things I mentioned.”

You try to do what she brought up and start to rub your clit with your thumb while sliding your fingers up and down your labia from behind your underwear. You can feel yourself getting a little wet, but aren’t quite where you want to be just yet.

“Do you feel better when your clit is stimulated or when your vagina is?” Lav asks you gently. “You can touch yourself wherever you feel best. If you like one and not the other, then stick with the option you do like. Some girls like to stimulate their ass too, but that might be a little too much for you.”

“I like the first two,” you admit, exhaling with each circular motion of your clit. “I think I do, anyway.”

“You can always use both hands if you feel like you want to,” Lav explains. “You can keep one touching your clit while the other penetrates your pussy, if that’s what you want to do. Do you think you’re ready for your fingers? Or do you need more time?”

“I...I think I’m ready,” you nod. Lav gently places her hand over yours and guides it to the opening of your panties above your crotch, helping you slide your fingers in. Her touch is warm and soft, and you feel almost good having her hold your hand this way. Slowly, you follow her lead and extend your fingers again, this time feeling the skin on your vulva wet with your juices. You’re not quite as wet as you’ve been before, but you’re slick enough to at least take your fingers.

“Do you want to use one hand or both?” Lav asks you calmly. “Think about what will make you feel better.”

“Both,” you decide, moving your other hand to your underwear as well. You spread your legs to accommodate both hands, blushing as you do so. It feels strange to be watched over while you touch your body, yet you feel comfort in knowing that it’s with someone who actually wants to take care of you.

With your second hand, you use a finger to continue stimulating your clit while slowly sliding two of your other hand’s fingers into your vagina. Lav removes her hand from yours and lets you touch yourself, seeing that you’re getting the hang of it.

You gasp slightly at the sensation of your fingers inside of you, your face growing more and more red.

“What now?” You ask your companion for her guidance. You feel like you know what to do, but still seek her guidance as a crutch for your uncertainty. Doing this feels good, but is still new to you.

“You can do a variety of things,” Lav explains. “How you stimulate yourself depends on what you want. You can curl your fingers up like this, if you like.”

She holds a hand up and curls two fingers, moving them back and forth in their curled position.

“That will help you stimulate your G-spot, which I personally like to do,” she continues. “It’s extremely stimulating to rub yourself there. You can also move your fingers back and forth into yourself like a man would with his penis, if you prefer that. You’ll get a deeper sensation inside yourself and it can still feel good. You don’t have to stick with just one motion either.”

“Okay,” you nod, opting to try the simpler approach and sliding your fingers slowly in and out of you while rubbing your clit gently.

“If you start to feel really good, you can move your hips around or go a little faster only if you want to,” Lav tells you. “But don’t think you have to go fast to feel good. It’s all about what you want, okay?”

You nod once more, shutting your eyes as you feel your body becoming warm at the sensations of your own touch. You let a slight moan out of your lips as you touch yourself, blushing with embarrassment at being watched and heard. You are able to hear the light, slick, wet noises emitting from your body as you play with yourself.

“Are you okay?” Lav asks you. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head, but don’t respond, continuing to move your fingers inside of your pussy gently and slowly, whimpering and moaning. You decide to try curling your fingers then, rubbing against your G-spot gently and feeling even more pleasurable in response. You remember how it felt to be fingered by Gale, so you are able to pinpoint where exactly you need to go based on this.

You aren’t sure what to think about to help you along, worrying about accidentally thinking of any of the doctors and abruptly coming in response. You don’t want to have to let yourself associate them with pleasure, but you also don’t want to think only of Lav staring at you intently. Your mind jumps around to specific acts: the feeling of your body being licked and sucked on, of your thighs being rubbed, of your breasts being groped. You feel your body growing hotter the more you think about these things, separating face and touch entirely and focusing instead on how certain things made you feel. You soon begin to buck your hips in response to your stimulation, moaning as you rub your clit and curl your fingers against your G-spot. You throw your head back and moan louder as you feel your body starting to well with pleasure.

“That’s it,” Lav encourages you warmly, touching your stomach. “You’re almost there.”

You imagine someone stroking your thighs and rubbing your breasts as you masturbate, suddenly craving a human touch more and more as you wildly pant with pleasure. After a while of rubbing and massaging, you soon orgasm, and you squirt out a little onto the bed while moaning loudly. After feeling your body in ecstasy, you slow down your pace and remove your hands, laying them flat on the bed while panting deeply.

“You did good,” Lav congratulates you, moving the hand on your stomach to your shoulder, placing it there gently. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes…” you pant, finally able to admit it without shame or worry about being teased. “I…I’ve never done that before. But it felt good.”

“If you ever want to penetrate yourself with more than your fingers,” your companion continues to explain, “you can use the handle of your hairbrush in your bathroom. Or, you can hump your pillow or put your blanket between your legs and tug at it to stimulate yourself. There are a lot of ways to play, really. I would just recommend not getting your bed dirty so that nobody knows what you’re doing. I’ve never been caught, but I don’t want to know what’ll happen if I do.”

“How long have you been doing this…?” You breathe, turning your head toward Lav with curiosity. However, she shakes her head as if to signal that she doesn’t know.

“For as long as I’ve been here, really,” she tells you softly. “Which I don’t know how long that is. I never really liked the men here. I don’t think I dislike men necessarily, but my doctor didn’t make it very easy for me to get used to being here. Do you know Sven Engelstad?”

You shudder at hearing Sven’s first name, remembering him forcing his cock into your throat and coming all over your face. Instinctively, you raise your hand to your throat. To think that such a filthy man is overseeing someone like Lav makes you sick. He was one of the first few men other than Yosuke to see you, along with his partner Jude. You almost feel yourself growing nauseous at the memory of both men.

“I can see that you do,” Lav looks down. “So you know how he is.”

The both of you remain in silence for a moment after this statement. You’re unsure of how to proceed now that you’re laying in your own juices, but you feel too comfortable to get up, staring blankly at the projector screen before you as the couple characters embrace one another while whispering sweet nothings.

“Ten,” Lav speaks up, breaking the silence. “I know you might not like girls, but…”

She blushes.

“Can I touch you a little?”

“What…?” You widen your eyes slightly. “I…”

“It was a stupid question, I know,” Lav looks away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. Forget it.”

“No, I…” You shift your eyes away, unsure of how to feel. You aren’t sure if you like girls, and you’re unsure why Lav seems so attracted to you suddenly. “Do you like me?”

“A little, I think,” Lav smiles sheepishly. “I just…I don’t know. I thought you were kind of pretty and after helping you do the whole masturbation thing, I wanted to see if-”

She sighs, stopping herself. “Forget it. It was wrong of me to ask.”

You look at her for a moment, contemplating the idea. However, you slowly touch her hand with yours.

“If…if you want to, you can,” you agree. “But if I suddenly don’t like it, stop, okay?”

Lav looks at you with parted lips, wanting to say something, but remains silent. She nods in agreement to your terms, then slowly leans over to kiss you, her lips soft and warm against yours. She takes your head in both hands as she kisses you, closing her eyes and blushing heavily as she works your lips. She occasionally lets out a few light, breathy moans from her throat, but otherwise remains in silence, breathing heavily through her nose as she kisses you. She refrains from sticking her tongue in your mouth like many others before, politely trying to not overstep your boundaries while still touching you. Eventually, she pulls one hand away from your head and slides it down your body, sticking it in your panties. She checks your expression to make sure you’re not uncomfortable, and continues when she sees that you’re not reacting negatively.

Slowly and gently, she mimics your initial hand movements from when you first began to masturbate, sliding her fingers into your wet pussy slowly and rubbing your clit with her thumb. Her fingers feel thin, but strong as they slide in and out of you.

Lav has a very gentle but firm touch, able to work your lower body without too much trouble and without causing you any discomfort. She continues to play with your pussy while kissing you, only speeding up her pace when she hears you verbally respond to her touch with more moans. The repetitive thrusting motions of her fingers coupled with the firm teasing of your clit suddenly causes you to come slightly, almost unexpectedly. Your pussy sucks Lav’s fingers in as you come, constricting around them slightly before eventually letting go. When she feels that you’ve finished, Lav pulls her fingers out of you, then moves away from your lips, staring into your eyes with her amber gaze.

“I know this is new for you, so do you want us to keep our clothes on?” She asks you, her face red with blush. You nod, but don’t really respond otherwise, still feeling embarrassed and unsure of how to take this, and still recovering from your pleasurable response to her fingers. A part of you wants Lav to feel good, but you are afraid of hurting her feelings if you suddenly decide you don’t like her the way she likes you. You’re not even wholly sure if she loves you, and think maybe she’s just testing the waters. However, you can’t quite bring yourself to blame her for wanting more out of her sex life than what she endures from the doctors.

“I’ll just hump you a bit. Is that okay?” Lav breaks your thoughts.

“Y-yeah,” you answer her with embarrassment. Slowly, she parts both her arms and puts them on either side of your head, positioning her body so that she’s straddling you with her slightly muscular legs spread open over you. With her body spread out like this, the natural curvature of her hips is much more defined, you notice. It’s far subtler in her than it is in someone like Mom, but it still looks feminine and alluring.

Lav continues adjusting herself over your body until you can feel her weight on your clit, and when she reaches this spot, she starts to slowly thrust against you, letting out light little pants with each one as she stimulates her clit against yours. She moves her hands into yours, your arms spread against the incline of the bed and being held down with her touch. She isn’t pinning you forcefully, instead holding your hands tightly to try reassuring you that she wants to be considerate of your body. In turn, you squeeze her hands back, unsure of what else to do but wanting to trust her.

From above you, Lav’s face is covered mostly in shadow, with some light from the projected movie behind her creating a slight glowing effect against her frame. Her blonde hair falls delicately over her face as she straddles and humps you, slowly at first.

“Does it feel good?” Lav whispers, her eyes fixated on you eagerly. Again, you nod, closing your eyes and blushing as she rides you. The more you feel your clit being stimulated and your labia rubbed by each of her thrusts, the more you find yourself becoming wet and aroused. You let a few moans out as Lav thrusts gently against your body, though she soon begins to quicken her pace as the both of your bodies respond to one another more strongly.

She lets out a few girlish moans, her voice just slightly higher as the noises escape her throat. She rides you excellently, with wide strides and gentle motions.

“Do you need me to stop?” She pants, trying to make sure that you feel good. You shake your head, letting out a bit of a moan as you feel yourself growing with pleasure.

“Ten…” Lav groans endearingly as she pumps against you, panting heavily. “Ten!”

She tightens her palm’s grip over yours and soon begins to thrust slightly harder, which your body responds to eagerly. Eventually, she leans in and moans, “I’m going to come. Is that okay?”

“Y…yes…” You pant, letting her ride you more and more until you’re dizzy with pleasure. After a few more thrusts, the both of you come together, and Lav leans in to kiss your neck as she moans breathily and loudly in pleasure. The both of you buck your hips, grinding your bodies against one another in unison until eventually both your climaxes end.

Still panting, Lav lets go of your hands and moves away from you, taking her place again next to you and resting a hand firmly over her stomach. The both of you remain silent as the movie continues to drone on, too enamored with your pleasure to focus on it. It’s only Lav who finally breaks the silence.

“I would do more,’ she says. “But…that actually hurt my stomach a lot more than I thought it would.”

She turns her head toward you with questioning eyes and asks,

“Can I hold you, just for a little?”

You blush in response, but quietly nod. Lav smiles warmly and takes you In her arms, pulling you tight and close. She inhales and exhales deeply and slowly, her body warm against yours. You let her hold you against your chest, embracing you with endearment, not ownership. Her touch feels gentle and loving, and her scent smells sweet and airy. Though you feel somewhat confused by this attention from her, you admittedly feel cherished and loved with her more than you have with anyone else, perhaps even Yosuke. Somehow, this touch is so much more different than that of any man you’ve met, and it’s not a thing like Mom’s. You aren’t sure if it’s out of some love for you Lav has, or if it’s because she’s also a girl like you and knows what you need more than anyone else really does. Ultimately, you aren’t sure how to feel about being ridden by Lav, but you feel comfortable in her embrace.

“I’m sorry for being so insistent. I just really needed this,” your companion half-laughs with a gentle voice. She closes her eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me if you liked it or not if you don’t want to or aren’t ready to. I’m sorry If you felt obligated to do this for me. I just…I wanted to try. But you felt really good, Ten. Even if you don’t like me, I’m glad we got to do this.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “I’m…not sure how I feel yet. But at the very least…I’d rather do this with you than someone like Mom.”

“Don’t joke around like that,” Lav gently laughs, clutching you tighter. “Ma’s the worst.”

You smile slightly, but say nothing more, letting Lav hold you in her warmth. You almost find yourself passing out as you lay there with her, but you eventually hear the intercom go off.

“Nine to the gate, please,” you her Mom’s voice call. “You have a visitor.”

“Guess that’s me,” Lav looks away, a displeased expression on her face. “My stomach still hurts. I really don’t want to do this right now. But, guess I have to.”

She pulls away from you and sits up, putting her hands on either side of her body against the bed, one leg forward and the other with the knee up. “Was this…okay?”

You nod.

“I won’t think less of you for it,” you promise, touching your friend’s hand gently. “We can still see each other how we were before. I don’t know how this makes me feel yet…but I didn’t hate it.”

Lav blushes, smiling to herself. She shuffles off of the bed and stands up, stretching as she does so.

“I guess I better go,” she sighs, but turns toward you, her gown twirling around her knees. “Thanks, Ten. I’m glad I got to see you today.”

“See you,” you nod as she walks off. You hope that whoever has taken her away doesn’t see how wet she is and assume they made her that way. You also wonder if there are consequences of doing this kind of thing with other Numbers when the doctors explicitly want to reserve the Numbers for themselves. You admit, however, that you enjoyed yourself somewhat. Though you don’t know how to feel about being with a girl in a way that isn’t disgusting to you, you still admit that you responded similarly to one as you would have a man.

You look down at the wet stain on the sheet of your bed and feel embarrassed, but admit you’re glad to have been taught how to touch yourself for your own pleasure. Even though you’re certain you won’t be doing it anytime soon with how strange it feels to do it, you silently hope that you can take Lav’s advice and use it to maintain a sense of self.

Chapter 19: Rest Nine - Pool

You tug at the hem of your gown, pulling the wide skirt down as much as you can to hide the wetness between your legs. You suppose you could easily ask the cafeteria worker for something to clean yourself off with, but you’d rather not arouse suspicion to what you did in the theater with Lav. You still feel a little dizzy after the ordeal, but admit it felt good, if utterly awkward. At the very least, you much preferred being asked how you were doing rather than forced upon without warning.

You wonder whether what you did was particularly taboo in a place like this. You hadn’t considered being closer with any of the other Numbers in any way, but perhaps that’s because the only time you witnessed such closeness firsthand was between two siblings. You hadn’t thought about being with another Number as something that was okay to do after encountering something so strange to you, but now that you have tried it for yourself, you can’t say you entirely dislike the idea of it. Having control over who touches you is, you find, a far more rewarding experience, if only one you need time to get used to. You don’t quite know whether you can accustom yourself to it enough to do it so casually with Lav or anyone else, but you suppose that having the option there is somewhat comforting.

Again, you make your way into the hallway and decide it best to find a way to clear yourself of your mess. At first, you think about entering the gym showers to clean off there, but when you head toward the doors, you can hear a laugh from behind it. You aren’t sure whose it is, but it’s definitely one of the girls. You find your face growing red at the idea of confronting anyone while you’re still slippery between your legs. You don’t want to believe you should be ashamed of what you did, but you still feel the need to hide it. Perhaps the other Numbers might not look down on you for having fooled around, but you feel like it’s not something you should announce so casually. Discussing the things that you’ve had done to you by the doctors in order to come to grips with it is one thing, but walking up to someone while dripping wet or completely naked is another. You’re sure someone like Lav is likely able to pull off being confident and unembarrassed by it. But you aren’t.

Finding that the gym isn’t an option anymore, you back away from its entrance and instead decide to try your hand at the door marked POOL, since it’s the last area you have yet to enter. Maybe you could take advantage of a large body of water instead of a measly shower. Plus, jumping into a body of water would be rather refreshing. You’re sure you at least know how to swim.

As you step toward the double doors, they slide open to reveal a huge area that looks about as wide as the gym, but has nothing other than a large underground pool in the middle of it. The walls and floor are all white, and the pool seems to just be an indentation in the floor filled with water. There are steps leading in and out of the pool on both ends, with grey metal handrails in the middle of each one for support. In the same position as the showers in the gym, there’s a door that you see is also labelled SHOWERS. Lingering in the air is the intense smell of chlorine and dampness. It’s a little musty for your taste, but it isn’t overpowering enough to make you want to leave. The room isn’t quite as cold as most of the others either, which you find to be a nice change. Maybe whoever regulates the temperature here realized that jumping into water and having your skin frozen off by cold air doesn’t make for a good combination.

As you gaze into the water, you half-expect to see it radiate a crystal blue color and sparkle like It would on a beach or an outdoor pool, but it has no color and no real special qualities to speak of. It’s actually quite clear. Were it not for the reflection of light upon the surface of the water or the occasional bobbing of gentle waves, you might have mistakenly assumed the pool to be completely empty.

You look up then, noticing that Five and Six are floating together in the corner of the pool furthest from you, laughing about something. They aren’t wearing their usual peach gowns, strangely. Instead, they’ve got on these slick, white, one-piece bathing suits that hug their bodies gently. You suppose that these are given to the Numbers by the staff and left in the locker room for everyone to use. You assume that these would have to be form-fitted to each Number’s body, and you almost want to contemplate how they know your sizes. But, the less you dwell on it, the better. You’d prefer not to imagine any of the doctors measuring your unconscious body up meticulously.

Curious to know what the two girls are saying, but not in any rush to alert them to your presence, you try to step forward quietly to hear them better. As you come closer to the edge of the pool and further away from the entrance, you find yourself slipping on some water you didn’t see right away, causing you to go tumbling forward with an alarmed wail escaping your throat. This causes both girls to look up at you in surprise. You catch a glimpse of Six reaching an arm in your direction with worry before your face hits the surface of the water with a splash, your body momentarily sinking into the pool. You stick your hands outward toward the bottom as you fall in hopes of pushing yourself back to the surface, but are surprised at just how much you do sink before you manage to touch the bottom at all. You try to push off, your chest growing tight as you hold your breath as best you can, but find that your fingers slip against the bottom of the pool which is far slicker than you expect. You fail to push your palms against the surface before your body begins to float upward again slowly, so you begin to thrash about in an attempt to spin yourself around. You’d be willing to ride your way back to the surface, but you were caught off guard falling in and didn’t get to breathe in enough air to last you as long as you really need now.

Luckily, before you can start to choke, you feel two hands grabbing each of your shoulders and pulling you up as quickly as they can. Your head breaks the surface of the water yet again, this time allowing you to breathe. You inhale sharply a few times, shaking your wet head so that your sopping, now-heavy hair isn’t in your face.

“Hey, you alright?” You hear Six’s voice question you from your right, but you can’t quite see her yet as you rub your eyes clear of water. When you drop your hands, you can see both Five and Six on each side of your body, hovering over you with worry. You blink for a moment, assessing yourself and the situation that just occurred. You’re embarrassed by having been seen trip and fall into the pool like an incompetent child, but you are a little relieved that you did, your body now likely clean of the evidence of your encounter with Lav.

“I think…?” You finally answer. “Thanks for the help. I wasn’t able to push off the bottom in time.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” Six laughs, nudging you with her elbow. “You should be more careful when you walk in here. This pool’s pretty deep.”

She gives you a bit of a smirk.

“But, now that I know you’re okay, I gotta say—that was really funny to watch.”

“You did just sort of fall flat on your face,” Five giggles girlishly in concurrence, her dark, curly hair submerged partway in the water as it extends down her back. You look at her for a moment, surprised to see her again after a long while apart.

“Are you doing better?” You ask her, gripping the edge of the pool to keep yourself steady while gently kicking your legs around in the water. “I mean, last time I heard about you, I was told you were sick.”

“Much better,” Five assures you with a smile. “I know I probably scared a lot of people, especially her.”

She reaches her hand over to take Six’s.

“She stayed by me the whole time and made sure to tell everyone I was okay when I recovered.”

“Does that happen to you a lot…?” You wonder aloud, your eyebrows raised with worry. Much to your dismay, Five seems to nod slowly and gives a bit of an mmh noise in response.

“Her doctor likes to use certain kinds of drugs sometimes,” Six adds, squeezing Five’s dark-skinned hand as she says it. “But honestly rarely anything too bad. He has to be careful about how often he does certain kinds of things with any of us because of how dangerous it can be. The other doctors don’t want us all doped up on anything other than what they’re supposed to administer. Peaches’ doctor does give certain drugs to the girls he sees now and again, but sometimes it’s a little too much for them to handle. But all the reactions you might see that land us in the infirmary or on the couches aren’t always just from him. We can get sick from a variety of things here.”

Your mind wanders to the looming mystery injection Yosuke mentioned would be given to you every few weeks, and to the drug that the doctors use to knock you out between encounters. You wonder what other sorts of awful drugs the doctors might give you. Even if they’re supposed to be for specific, important purposes, you don’t think everyone’s body can readily accept every drug, even with any care the doctors take to make sure nothing happens. As it is, they messed up on your dose of whatever they use to knock you out, so you doubt they’re always able to get things right around here. Perhaps you’re lucky that you haven’t had any major issues other than a delayed reaction and a subsequent numbed one. You remember that Cyrus had mentioned witnessing someone dying from being pumped with drugs, but you aren’t sure which he meant, or if he even knew which one killed them. It scares you to think about it nonetheless.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it right now,” Five lets go of Six’s hand and moves toward the edge of the pool next to you, putting both arms against it and leaning her head on them, turning it so that she can face you. “Point is, I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry.”

“But that is kind of worrying,” you look down. “I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”

“It’s alright,” Five smiles. “I’ve had enough time to adjust to it. Besides, I’m a little heftier than everyone here. I can handle way more than you think. Anyway, what about you, hon? Are you holding up aright now that you’ve had more time to see how things work around here?”

“I still don’t like it,” you admit. “I don’t want to give into anything, but I do kind of understand how things are now. At the very least, I’m spending more time with the other Numbers now, so I’m happy about that.”

You think briefly to Lav telling you that you can’t rely on the other Numbers forever. Admittedly, she does have a point. However, you don’t want to let that mean that you can’t rely on the others at all. Perhaps she just wants you to fight and care for yourself too? You hope that’s the case.

“Ten helped me and Vi keep score in the arcade the other day,” Six explains with a laugh, shaking you from your thoughts. She follows Five’s lead and leans against the edge of the pool on the other side of you, so that both she and Five are surrounding you. “Violet got pretty mad about losing, which is funny since she usually does anyway.”

“Violet’s very competitive,” Five tells you with a chuckle. “But sometimes too much for her own good. She lives very comparatively.”

“How do you mean?” You ask.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. She compares herself to everyone,” Six answers for her companion, shrugging one of her strong shoulders. “I think she just feels inadequate about a lot of things, but it’s not like we can really get her to talk about it or admit how she feels if she’s in a particularly stubborn mood. She’s actually a lot like Eight, only she participates way more and we don’t hate her.”

“We don’t hate Eight,” Five flashes Six a stern look and adds to her statement with reassurance to you. “He’s just a bit much, that’s all.”

“Sorry,” Six backs off, apologizing. “I guess he’s not that bad, but he does get on everyone’s nerves.”

“Like others have likely said before, it’s better just to ignore him sometimes,” Five sighs, closing her dark eyes. “For as patient as I am, even he really pushes my buttons.”

“I know what you mean,” you lower your eyes and eyebrows. “I’ve talked to him here and there, and he’s always been so mean to me. I actually snapped at him today.”

“And lived to tell about it?” Six teases with a grin. “Honestly, we’ve raised our voices to him before, but it doesn’t usually do any good. He won’t listen to any of us because he really doesn’t respect us enough to value what we say. Like, maybe he respects someone like Cyrus just a tiny bit for being so knowledgeable about a lot of stuff here, but he still keeps calling us stupid and weak for finding ways to deal with our situation instead of turning our anger into assholism.”

“He did mention that,” you pout. “I think it’s just a huge defense mechanism or something.”

“Pretty much anything we do is a defense mechanism,” Five opens one eye. “But you’ve already heard that coping spiel, I’m sure.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be reminded of,” you laugh slightly. “Talking makes us feel like people, even if we talk about the same things every day.”

Six turns herself around and leans back against the edge of the pool, slowly kicking her legs about. The three of you remain silent for just a moment before you ask curiously,

“What were you two talking about anyway? Every time I see you together, you’re giggling like kids.”

“This and that,” Five answers with a smile. “We talk a lot when we’re together. Everyone has someone they talk to more often. Violet talks to Cyrus a lot, Two and Three are always together, and so on.”

You blush, thinking of Lav again. You’re not sure you can say you two are a pair of any kind, but you seem to have moved further with her than expected. But, thinking about her also makes you remember your initial question to Six back in the arcade. You look over at Five then with uncertainty in your eyes.

“Are you guys-” But you don’t want to finish the question, fearing that you’ll come across as rude. You have a knack for asking questions that put people off, you notice. Someone like Cyrus is more than willing to help answer them honestly, but you aren’t sure about anyone else. As it is, you felt pretty awkward bringing it up in the arcade too, with Six.

“We are,” Five confirms, gathering what it is you’re trying to ask. She closes her eyes again while she continues to smile. “I’m surprised you hadn’t caught on sooner.”

“Well, I didn’t really see you all that often,” you admit, blushing. “I also kind of tried to ask Six a while back, but…”

“I didn’t know how to answer you,” Six chimes in with a shrug, looking down at her legs in the water. “Plus I wasn’t sure if you’d be the type to raise questions to any of the doctors about it. We kind of don’t want them knowing.”

“Why not?”

“We’re afraid of what they might do,” Five answers you, opening her eyes. “We don’t know if they’d use it as leverage against us or if they’d use it just to mess with us, but we’d rather keep it secret from them. Maybe they already know and are just nice enough to not mess with us about it. We have no idea.”

“It’s not like we’re not allowed to do anything with each other,” Six adds, dropping her legs and turning back around to lean on the edge of the pool. “Or at least they never said we couldn’t. It’s just…I dunno, we feel weird about it. We know the rest of the group doesn’t mind it, and we don’t think it’s wrong. But the doctors play a whole different game with us Numbers. We just don’t want them to do something with that knowledge. Like I said, there’s a chance they’re onto us and don’t care, but I’m not holding my breath about it.”

“I feel like we hang around together often enough for them to at least suspect it,” Five sighs. “But for as awful as the doctors are, Peaches’ doctor is the type to at least be nice enough not to say anything about it. They’re a really sweet person at times, despite being part of all this.”

“They…?” You blink in response, trying to piece together who this person is. “Do you mean Gale?”

“You’ve met them?” Six widens her eyes and watches you as you nod simply in response. “Did they hurt you at all?”

“I…” You blush. “I don’t think so? They did something to me I wasn’t used to, but were trying to be gentle. They did say it was because I was new. Are they like that usually?”

“Mostly,” Six blushes as well. “It really depends. Gale seems like one of the chilliest doctors here, but they’re not always. I don’t dislike them, but it really depends on how they are on a given day. They’re usually pretty soft, but they can get kind of weird too, like most of the doctors here.”

“For as sweet as they can be, Gale’s still a doctor,” Five adds, picking her head up and lowering one of her arms into the water. “No matter who it is you’re paired with, and how nice they might be, you kind of have to remember that.”

You look down, unsure of whether you should keep talking about them. You can sense Five and Six growing uncomfortable, so you decide to change the topic.

“How did you guys get together?” You try to perk yourself up, smiling for the two of them. They can tell that you’re trying to make the atmosphere less tense, which they silently acknowledge with gratitude.

“We actually kind of bonded over wearing the same colors,” Five laughs. “Gale forgot that there was already someone here wearing peach, but never bothered to correct their mistake.”

“In all fairness, there’s already two people wearing blue,” Six shrugs. “But even they have different shades. Me and Peaches started to talk more because of the mix-up, though. I guess it was just some solidarity thing, but I did find that she and I got along pretty well.”

“That’s all it took?” You blink, surprised. The two girls chuckle in amusement at your response.

“Of course not! It didn’t just happen right away,” Six shakes her head. “We just kept talking and talking. I eventually realized I really liked her and I tried to tell her up front, hoping she wouldn’t react too weirdly.”

“I was, luckily, receptive to her advances,” Five smiles at her partner. “I’d felt the same for a while, and so I said I’d be willing to be with her if she wanted to give it a try.”

You blush, thinking of Lav again. She’d seemed to admit to you so suddenly that she had an interest in you, which makes you question whether she even liked you or if she just got flustered watching you masturbate.

“What if…” you try to interject, wanting to seek the couples’ advice. “…What if you get together with someone suddenly? Like what if the other person admits they kind of like you really soon and you don’t take all that much time to talk before they decide to move quickly?”

“It’s perfectly fine for some people,” Five answers you honestly. “We just took our time because we weren’t sure how to approach one another about it. We’re very much that way. But others can jump right into things if they’re more straightforward or clear about how they feel. It might not always work, but it could, theoretically.”

“It’s all about communicating your preferences, I guess you could say,” Six adds with a nod. “But we’re kinda the only couple around here—I think. Why? Do you have your eye on anyone?”

Six leans toward you with a teasing grin on her face, making you blush.

“No…” You look away. “I don’t really know. I’m still confused about a lot of things right now. Both between what’s happened with my doctor recently, and with the things I’ve dealt with here.”

Five laughs softly.

“That’s perfectly fine,” she promises you. “You’re free to feel how you want to feel. Take your time here, okay? And you don’t need to feel pressured into anything you’re unsure about, at least not with us.”

“Different story with the doctors, but you know what we mean,” Six agrees. “If you ever wanna talk to us about that stuff, you totally can. We don’t mind.”

“Oh…I guess I do feel kind of bad for intruding,” you admit, lowering your eyes again. “Sorry.”

“We love company,” Five reassures you, putting her hand on your back. “It’s no trouble, hon.”

You glance up at her and smile. Being with these two is strangely comforting for you. They act like genuine parents, which you find solace in.

“Thanks,” you tell them, tucking some damp hair behind your ear. “I am a little confused on relationship stuff in general though. I don’t really know if I experienced genuine love before coming here.”

“It doesn’t much matter anymore,” Five looks down. “And I personally don’t want to think about it anyway. If there’s a tragedy in me leaving my previous life behind, then I’m better off not knowing. I don’t think I want that grief. For as awful as this place is, it’s presented us with a new life that we have to make for ourselves. I was lucky enough to find love here. I’m not going to give it up.”

“Relationships are work though,” Six warns you. “At least in my experience, compared to something like the movies they show us sometimes where everything’s almost always perfect. Love is nice, but you have to deal with things like different opinions on things, bad moods, and being supportive when you yourself are dealing with your own problems. You have to give a lot of effort to be in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It just means you learn about the person you love, how to care for them, and how to love them, like they do for you. It’s like a seed you plant and nurture together. Arguing and negativity can wither that plant, but learning to solve problems together and loving one another can help it grow.”

“That’s not to say everyone will argue all the time, but if my experience has any merit, then no relationship is perfect,” Five adds. “But we don’t have much of a frame of reference for a lot of relationship stuff other than what we’ve experienced together and what we see in media we’re allowed to consume here. That’s kind of the tricky part about learning this stuff. We really don’t know how it works in the real world.”

“Have you been in fights a lot?” You ask both girls curiously. Six laughs loudly at this question, much to your confusion. Perhaps she thinks you’re asking things with obvious answers.

“We’ve been in so many fights!” She answers you honestly, strangely laughing at such a negative statement. “We don’t always see eye to eye on everything, and sometimes one of us is in a really bad mood.”

“I have no idea what you’re laughing about, because it’s usually you,” Five lowers a brow while smirking at her partner. She then turns to you. “She’s got a temper at times. It can get pretty bad.”

“Shut up!” Six playfully tries to go behind you and splash Five with water, making her back up and raise her hands to avoid it. She giggles and tries to splash Six back, and the two suddenly engage in a quick back and forth while you float in the middle of them, watching with a smile. You then look down as they have their temporary war with one another and realize that your gown is flowing open as you float in the water, exposing your legs completely. You decide to try pulling yourself out of the pool and sitting on the edge, wringing out the hem of your flimsy rose garment while the girls have their fun.

Watching them is somewhat entertaining, you admit. They seem to be energetic around one another, and you’re happy that they are able to rely on and trust each other so much. You wonder if you could really reach that point with another girl, or anyone at all, really. You’re still not sure how you feel about the other Numbers, or whether you even need to bother to feel attracted to any of them.

You try to keep the girls’ take on relationships in mind while also considering Cyrus’ definitions of love. Perhaps you could come to love someone among the Numbers, but you don’t suppose you’re obligated to do so based on what you’ve been told by Five and Six. Knowing this makes you feel a little better about your confusion with Lav. Perhaps later, you can talk to her more clearly about it. She seems like the type to move faster than you’re accustomed to, but perhaps you can talk more about your boundaries. You’re still not sure if you’d consider a romantic relationship with her right now, but are still happy to know she at least cares about you.

As you continue to twist and wring your gown, you start to think of Yosuke again. No matter how often you try to remind yourself that he’s just doing everything he does with you for the sake of ownership, you admit that you keep almost giving into him anyway. Even when you want to fight, something about him makes you feel weak, and you don’t know what to really do about it anymore. For as disgusted you are with his behavior, you almost want to let him take over you, and it frustrates you to think about it.

A part of you wonders if you can really keep up your fight against him. You talk so confidently when you’re away from him, and you resonate that same confidence when you’re with the Numbers. You constantly build yourself up and ready yourself to fight against him, but the moment he touches you, you melt. Thinking about being touched by others is, after all, what brought you to orgasm when you played with yourself.

I love you, Yosuke’s words repeat themselves again in your mind, the memory of his touch resurfacing and making you shiver. Remembering the feeling of being held in his arms a while back makes you blush. You feel ashamed for it, but don’t know what do really do about the issue other than just keep fighting as best you can. If you can.

Suddenly, you hear the intercom go off, the usual dismissing bell chiming.

“Oh, shit!” Six suddenly calls out, realizing that she and Five still need to change. “I didn’t think we were here that long.”

“Let’s hurry, then,” Five nods, swimming back over to the edge of the pool and pulling herself out. “Ten, you can go on ahead if you like. We won’t take too long. We do speedy cleanups a lot.”

You wonder whether she means this in a sexual way as well, but suppose it’s none of your business, so you don’t press her about it.

“It was nice talking to you again,” Six smiles. “See you another time.”

You nod, pushing off the ground to stand and wobbling around as you try to regain your balance, avoiding slipping on the water now all over the floor now that you know to watch out for it. You head out the door, immediately feeling the drop in temperature and clutching your body as you start to shiver relentlessly. Your hair, skin, and clothes are still remarkably damp, after all.

You eventually meet with your doctor yet again, and he notices quite immediately that you’re wet.

“I see you’ve found the pool,” he teases lightly. “But why is your gown wet? You know they have suits for you, don’t you?”

“I fell,” you chatter, your jaw moving on its own as you shiver immensely. You’re not in much a mood to deal with your doctor’s teasing.

Yosuke looks at you briefly, but then removes his coat and wraps it around your body gently.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, trying to avoid his touch. But, he persists. You eventually give in and let him wrap your body with his coat, admitting that the lingering heat of his own body feels nice against your skin compared to the cold facility air. Yosuke smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your head and making you blush in response. He says nothing more, but leads you back to your room, past the numbered doors of the other rooms. You find yourself looking up at each number, wondering whether everyone else is doing okay. You eventually get to Lav’s, stopping briefly as you gaze up at it in thought. You think about how likely it is that Sven was in Lav’s bedroom with her just a few yards away, and the thought of him putting her through the same torment that he and Jude put you through makes you nauseous.

Yosuke notices a bit late that he’s gone a few steps ahead, but he stops and turns to look at you when he finally does catch it.

“My dear?” He calls out. “Come to me, won’t you?”

You look down, squeezing your arms tightly and wishing he hadn’t phrased his words that way. You assume he did so specifically just to mess with you, but you can’t exactly ignore him. So, you turn away from Lav’s door and continue onward to Yosuke, who wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in close.

“Good girl,” he coos, watching gleefully as you avoid his gaze and remain motionless. He pets your head lovingly as he holds you.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” you wince. “I just want to sleep. Can I please?”

“Don’t you want to change out of those wet clothes?” Yosuke teases you, pulling away and putting his hand on your cheek. You shake your head in response.

“I’ll deal with it,” you tell him. You refuse to let him take this as an opportunity to get you naked again. Strangely enough, he seems okay with this.

“If you like, then,” Yosuke responds to you with a smile. “But do keep my coat for tonight. Your stubbornness won’t keep you warm, but my clothes should suffice.”

You say nothing, but continue to follow him to your room where he drops you off, your body still wet and still shivering. From behind you, he leans in to kiss your cheek before pulling away

“Goodnight, my pet,” he sends you off, shutting the door behind you. A part of you doesn’t want to use his coat, but you admit that you’d rather not sleep in damp clothes nor completely nude. So, you begrudgingly strip down, removing your gown and underwear and promptly tossing them aside somewhere on the floor.

Carefully, you begin to slip your arms into the sleeves of Yosuke’s coat. You finally notice a few red marks on your upper arms from where you were tied tightly by your doctor, though they seem to be fading now that it’s been a little while. Being reminded of Yosuke’s playing with you makes you feel a little woozy. You dislike knowing that he has been using you in your room ever since his first time with you. Every time you enter it, you’re forced to remember him pinning you against your wall, desk, and bed. You really don’t want to have to think about it, but doing so makes your heart flutter just slightly.

Promptly, you finish pulling Yosuke’s white coat over your shoulders and button the front up so that you’re completely covered in his garment. It’s still remarkably warm, but it reeks of his scent and embarrasses you to wear it, especially since you’re completely naked underneath it. You don’t want to think about him embracing you as you wear the thing, but you do, and you grow more and more flustered and frustrated with yourself.

Not willing to fight about the embarrassment of having to wear the thing any further, you climb into your soft bed and bury yourself in your sheets and comforter, where the warmth around your body is only heightened. You pause momentarily, thinking about touching yourself again in the hopes that you can push your feelings about Yosuke aside and feel good about something else, but you realize that you’re too exhausted to even bother. Instead, you roll around in your bed and wrap yourself in your comforter, enjoying the warmth that it brings you. Something about the feeling of being wrapped up the way you are now is comforting to you, and you soon drift off to sleep peacefully.

Chapter 20: Visit Nine - Blackout

You give a slow inhale as you take in Yosuke’s scent again, realizing that you’re still wearing his coat as you begin to wake up from your slumber. You fell asleep, or perhaps had shifted yourself, with your arm close to your face, so the sleeve is right against it now. You had almost hoped that you’d wake up in your rose gown again, but evidently nobody bothered to change you.

You blink your eyes, adjusting to the bright light of your examination room yet again. Turning your head, you realize that you’ve been laying on your side, and likely for quite a while since your other arm actually feels a little sore now. Still a little groggy, you sit up from your slightly tilted bed in search of whoever you’re saddled with today. You don’t immediately see anyone, but instead hear the clinking of glass from behind your bed. You almost want to turn around, but seeing your body before you covered only in a white coat distracts you momentarily as you fully realize now that you’re still naked beneath it.

Something suddenly moves from behind you toward your face, making you jump slightly and gasp sharply in response. You put a hand to your chest as you feel your heartbeat quicken its pace, but slowly calm down when you realize that you’re just being handed a short glass filled halfway with something amber in color. You hesitate, but take it in your hands, watching the viscous liquid slosh around and leave a faint trail against the sides of the clear glass which dissipates after a few seconds.

“Go ahead and drink it,” a somewhat gruff voice calls from behind you. It seems to have a light accent of some sort, but you’re unable to pinpoint where it’s from.

Whoever it is that's with you steps forward and sits by your bed in a stool, wafting the back of his coat out of his way so that he doesn’t sit on it. He bends his black-slacked knees and plops down onto the thing with a hearty groan. You notice that in his rather rough-skinned hands he has his own glass of whatever this liquid is, though his is almost empty now.

You look up at this man’s features with surprise. He’s got a somewhat wide frame and a broad chest, yet he is very lean if not fairly toned in his arms. Even through his coat and his pear green dress shirt, you can see a bit of the definition in his frame. His skin is light, but has a sandy tone to it in comparison to all the peach and pink skin you’ve seen from other doctors with lighter skin. His almost black hair is remarkably thick but somewhat short, with whatever’s loose slicked back just slightly. His lips are surrounded by facial hair which goes around and meets at his chin, tapering up toward his mouth. Though his body is rather fit and strong, his face and cheeks are slightly more rounded, and something about his profile seems softer than the persona he presents. He looks and sounds rough overall, but seems to give a warm expression, his dark eyes fixated on you. This man doesn’t seem to smile with his slightly reddish lips, but you can tell he’s trying to be kind with you through his gaze alone, or at least make a good first impression. You’re not sure you trust him either way.

“Are you afraid of it?” He asks you, noticing that you’ve not touched your drink. You admit you’re unsure about whether to trust the concoction. Even from its position close to your lap, you can smell the strong and invasive bitter scent of alcohol. You don’t think you’ve ever drank before, but you certainly know that what you have is liquor. Its smell doesn’t even waft pleasantly into your nose, rather it strikes and stings your sinuses invasively. Whatever this particular drink is, it’s strong. And, judging by the strong smell radiating from your gruff visitor, he’s already had some for himself. Perhaps even more than what’s in the glass he’s holding now.

“I don’t…” you begin, looking down at the amber liquid. “…I don’t think I drink.”

The gruff man gives a wide grin and laughs heartily, placing his free hand on his knee.

“How wonderful!” He exclaims with amusement. “You think you have a choice? You’re almost too innocent for your own good.”

You avoid his gaze, feeling embarrassed at his teasing, but also slightly intimidated by him. You’ve met some trimly built and broad-shouldered men before, but this man is by far the burliest.

“Be a good girl now. Drink with me,” the man raises his glass toward you, signaling for you to join him. You hesitate, but lift the glass shakily up to your lips and let the amber liquid touch your tongue. It’s far more bitter than you anticipated, and the strong alcoholic smell is even stronger as a flavor on your lips and tongue. Completely disgusted by the sensation and taste of it, you cough and move the glass away from your lips, wiping your mouth with your forearm.

“How can you drink this?!” You gag. “It’s disgusting!”

“Ah, but It’s like water to me,” Your visitor gives a low laugh, throwing his head back and swiftly taking a gulp of the rest of his drink without hesitation. The sight of his casual consumption sends a shiver down your spine.

“If you won’t drink, my pup, then I will make you,” he continues, leaning to the side to place his glass down on the floor. He then rises, moving toward you with both his hands. He grabs the glass from you with one hand and uses the other to forcibly grab your chin, pulling you forward and squeezing your lips to make them open. His hands feel rough against your skin, dry and thick in comparison to the softer touch of most of the other men you’ve met.

Without giving you a chance to react, he forces your head back just slightly, then shoves the glass against your lips, pressing the cold surface on them.

“Drink, pup,” the man commands you gruffly, his smile gone. When you instinctively grab his wrists to fruitlessly attempt to pry him away, he shakes your head in his hand slightly back and forth, as if to coax you.

“Come on.”

Unable to fight him, you begrudgingly oblige the doctor’s order and take the disgusting beverage in your mouth. He tilts the glass far too quickly, forcing too much of it into your throat at one time. The sudden rush of fierce, sour liquor almost makes you choke, and your throat and tongue begin to burn with the strong alcoholic concoction soaking them. You try to swallow it as quickly as you can so that you can breathe again, but even that leaves a long, slow burning sensation trailing down your esophagus which almost makes you throw up. Luckily, you don’t. Once you’ve swallowed everything that was in the glass, your visitor’s smile returns to his lips, and he grins at you eagerly.

“There’s a good pup,” he laughs, letting go of your chin and lips. You quickly wipe the residue of the alcohol off of them with your forearm, slightly licking the cloth over it in desperation to taste literally anything else. Even so, the strong flavor of hard liquor continues to pierce and linger on your tastebuds.

“If you’re good, I won’t make you drink more,” The doctor tells you with a sly grin. “You’re not used to it, my pup. I don’t want you to get sick so suddenly, but I’ll happily force more of it into your pretty little throat if you disobey.”

He sits back on the stool.

“Now, let’s give it a moment to work on you.” He folds his arms and leans back slightly.

“What if just that bit makes me sick?” You angrily question him, still trying to wipe your mouth of the nasty flavor. “You don’t know what I can and can’t handle!”

“We will find out,” your visitor casually shrugs this off. “I’ll still use you regardless. I’m not picky.”

You widen your eyes a bit, but refuse to meet his gaze again.

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid,” the man pecks at you like a buzzard, his rough and booming voice echoing against the walls of the room. “You’ve been seen by many doctors. You should not be surprised by such things that you find unusual. But, that seems to be why everyone enjoys you.”

“What are you talking about?” You question him with an annoyed tone. However, the man only laughs loudly at your reaction, pointing a thick finger at you in amusement.

“There!” He calls out, wholly entertained. “That right there, little pup! You act so angry, confused. Some doctors cherish that. You’re innocent. It’s such a precious little trait, especially on girls. And I do love my girls.”

You notice that your body feels colder than before, though you’re still able to think straight for the most part. You don’t want to make this known to your visitor, so you simply respond,

“I’m not some miracle doll like you all seem to think. You’re just sick in the head.”

“Ah, you think that means anything to us?” The gruff doctor chortles. “My pup, you must be so naïve to think your words have weight here.”

He rises again, pushing the stool away and stretching out a hand. Without warning, he grabs your throat and pins you back against the bed. He exerts just enough pressure to make it fairly hard for you to breathe, but not enough to fully choke you. You grip your hands around his wrist, but find that his strength far outmatches yours by a longshot, much more than with any other doctor you’ve met. He watches with glee as you dig your nails into his skin in an attempt to hurt him so that he’ll let go.

“And what a pretty little pup you are,” he chuckles, leaning in to watch your agony-twisted face more closely, huffing sour, alcohol-stained breath in your face. However, before he does any real damage to you, the doctor lets go of your throat and lets you catch your breath.

“Of course, I should try to be more careful with you,” He admits. “Your doctor said not to hurt you, so I will do my best not to. For now, of course.”

You look at the burly doctor with furious eyes as you rub your neck, assessing his damage to you. Your head feels a little lighter now, and your body now enduring a wave of warmth instead of cold. You realize very quickly, however, that it’s not because you were just choked lightly.

“You have more respect for the other filthy doctors than the Numbers,” you spit out in disgust. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Now, now, let’s not have an attitude,” your visitor grabs your chin again. “Unless you’d like more to drink.”

You say nothing, simply shooting the man a glare. He finds your sudden silence amusing.

“Why don’t you open up that coat for me, pup?” He suggests, though you know it’s more of an order. “I was surprised you weren’t wearing your uniform, but perhaps Yosuke decided to keep it on you when he brought you here for me. Ah, but I can’t complain. You’re likely not wearing anything underneath that, right?”

He grins and laughs, but fixates his dark eyes on your body, not your face. You grimace, hesitating to undo the only thing separating your body from his. You know that you can’t fight it forever, so you eventually decide to listen to this doctor’s orders and move to unbutton the topmost coat button. However, your visitor appears to think you’ve taken too long or are going too slowly, because he drops your chin and moves in to do it himself. He grabs your wrists forcefully and pries your hands away from your chest, then moves to the collar of the coat to rip the buttons open without undoing them. The smooth, hard things fling away from your body and clack against the floor softly as they land on it, but you can only focus on the embarrassment of being undressed so forcefully and sitting naked now.

“H-hey!” You call out in surprise, but your doctor laughs.

“What, are you worried that I’ve ruined his coat?” He questions you. You want to say no, but you do think destroying the buttons and thread was unnecessary. “He has more. These things are as expendable as you are.”

You gasp slightly at his harsh words, but have no time to think about how hurt it makes you feel since the gruff man pulls the coat down your arms to expose your shoulders and breasts, stopping at your wrists and wrapping his hands around them tightly. He gives a bit of a light chuckle at the sight of your naked body.

“No panties either? What fortune!” The doctor teases you, staring hungrily at your naked flesh. “Makes it much easier to take you, pup.”

He leans in and smells your neck, giving a slow inhale and making you shiver as you feel the heat of his breath and the deep, pleasured groan escaping his throat. For some reason, it makes you more flustered than usual. You certainly hope that it’s because of the alcohol.

“And a lovely smell too,” he grins. You want to beg him to get away from you, but you know that he won’t even if you ask, and you don’t want him to tease or belittle you for it.

Satisfied with your scent, the doctor then moves in toward your breasts, still gripping your wrists through the coat cloth tightly and holding your arms at your sides. You press your head into the pillow under you as if to try getting away from the man the closer he comes to your chest, but you can’t really avoid him. He stops just short of your breasts and breathes onto them, the warmth of his breath making you shiver slightly.

“How do girls like you not get turned on with tits like these, eh?” The man chuckles lightly, suddenly moving in to suck your left breast. You instinctively try to shake away at the sensation of it, but he grips you tighter, pushing your limbs against the bed even more to stop you from moving around too much.

“S-stop!” You cry out, but come to regret it when he looks up at you with your breast in his mouth and bites down just slightly on your nipple, making you yelp. He gives it a quick lapping, moving his rather thick and slimy tongue around the nipple before popping his mouth away from you.

“Don’t resist me so much, pup,” he chides you with a frown. “I don’t like girls who fight too much. If you struggle again, I won’t hesitate to force myself inside you without any foreplay. A dry pussy won’t take a cock like mine so easily.”

You blush, and your heart beats slightly faster as he continues to play with your breasts with his lips and tongue. You try your best not to struggle anymore, but you feel disgusting letting a drunk man touch you. Something about the way he sucks on your nipples and hungrily laps the soft skin around your breasts feels much sloppier and disgusting compared to how sober doctors have done it. He keeps groaning and sucking in air hungrily as he leaves trails of sticky saliva everywhere on your chest. While it makes you feel dirty, you also notice that your body is starting to respond to it even though you don’t want it to.

You give a bit of a whimper as he presses his face forcefully against your left breast, the pressure hurting only slightly, but mainly just taking you by surprise. You can vividly feel this sloppy doctor’s wet, strong tongue flicking your nipples with each forceful mouthful of breast that he takes. You almost want to beg him to stop, but don’t want him to hurt you.

Eventually, the burly man pulls away from you and stands back up, watching your flustered, red face and heaving, gasping chest with pleasure. He moves a hand down your thigh and trails your slit with a thick, rough finger.

“Ah, you’re wet just from that, pup,” he teases you with a smirk. “Even with how many times you’ve been soiled, you’re still as innocent as a virgin. I see now why many of the doctors have spoken of you so positively.”

You turn your head away, not wanting to meet his dark gaze and bearded face. You refuse to move otherwise, not wanting to rile the man up.

Suddenly, you feel him pull you by your ankles a little further down the bed so that you’re laying against the flat part of it, with the incline just above your head. You try to look down to see what he’s doing, only to catch sight of him lifting your lower body up so that it curves enough for him to fold your legs over his shoulders. He squeezes your thighs as he stands at the foot of your bed, positioning your body to his preference.

“What are you doing?!” You cry suddenly at the strange position. You feel as though you’re about to be thrown into a somersault with how he’s bent you. It’s not a painful position, but it feels very strange to be angled and curved so much this way, especially since he’s tall enough that you have to be positioned this way, in order for your legs to even hang on his shoulders. You’re almost surprised at how flexible you are, all things considered.

“You’re wet, my pup,” your burly visitor gives a throated laugh. “But I want you wetter.”

With your legs spread and your pussy completely exposed to him, the burly doctor forcefully dives in with his lips and tongue and begins to suck and lick your clit with long, slow strokes, making you squeal in response. You’re embarrassed at how receptive you are to his mouth, but you desperately hope it’s because you’ve become drunk.

The gruff man soon quickens his pace, making as many loud slurping and groaning noises with your pussy as he had with your tits. He keeps his rough hands gripping your hips to keep you in place while he rubs his nose, lips, and tongue all over your labia and clit. Eventually, he begins to shove his tongue inside your vagina, flicking it around and slurping you up hungrily. He takes one hand off your hip and uses it to lightly pinch and rub your clit around while he laps you up, making you moan in response. You throw your head back, gasping and panting as you’re forced to endure this man’s aggressive assault on your pussy with his mouth and fingers. You want to lift your arms up to stop him, but find that you can’t really lift them much with this position, so you keep them helplessly flat on the bed. Yosuke’s coat is still drooping on your arms, and the sleeves of it rub against your skin with each movement of your body.

You whimper the more you feel each sensation—the doctor’s meaty tongue and hardened, thick fingers, the smooth cloth of the coat, the fluttering sheets of your bed, the cold tinge of the air. You somehow feel more hyperaware of each sensation now that you’re experiencing waves of heat and cold because of the alcohol. You feel utterly dizzy as you’re helplessly eaten out, and you can do no more than ball your fists as you grow more and more excited.

You feel yourself losing control as your body is taken by this man. You want to buck your hips and rub against his face eagerly as your excitement grows, but in this position, you can’t bring yourself to. All you can really do is keep your head pressed firmly against your pillow, panting, gasping, and whimpering as you’re licked and sucked. In the midst of your euphoria, however, you find yourself mindlessly beginning to speak for reasons you don't know.

“…Yosu…” you grit your teeth to stop yourself from saying his name, and you can’t understand why you mindlessly did so. This makes your visitor pull away just briefly, though he still continues to play with your clit using his fingers.

“I see the drink is hitting you,” he chuckles, his lips wet with your juices. “You know, the beautiful thing about alcohol is that it makes your darkest desires come to light.”

He grins.

“I know you wish it were him, pup, but try your best not to use his name. Use mine instead. It’s Milos.”

You blush heavily in embarrassment to your nearly saying your doctor's name, but become again distracted as Milos continues to force himself upon your pussy eagerly, slurping and licking you forcefully and sending shivers down your spine.

Eventually, you start to climax, your body bursting with pleasure as your gruff doctor takes no breaks from his oral assault. You give out a loud gasp as you feel yourself ready to come, which makes Milos give another gruff, throated laugh as he can feel you wriggling around eagerly. Soon, you give a loud yell as you come into his face, embarrassed at how vocal you are, but unable to really control it now. You tighten your balled-up fists as you come, and your visitor slows his pace and returns to giving you a few more long licks with his meaty tongue as he laps up your juices eagerly.

Your chest heaves deeply as you pant in recovery from your orgasm, and you shiver as you feel your body slowly dropped back onto the bed. As you come down from your excitement, you watch Milos move toward the head of your bed and release the lever to lower the incline. When the bed is completely flat, you feel his strong hands grip you under your armpits and pull you up, shifting you back up.

Milos chuckles at you and gently pats your cheek as he sees your utterly red, hot face.

“How very pretty, little pup,” he coos with his deep voice. “Don’t worry. We still have more to go.”

He turns and moves somewhere behind you, and you again hear the clinking of glass. This makes your heart jump, as you realize that he intends to give you even more alcohol.

When Milos returns, he does not have a glass like before, much to your confusion. However, he continues to remove his coat and shoes in silence. He also undoes his silk tie and drops it and the rest of his removed garments on the floor by your bed. Quietly, he climbs on top of the bed, on top of you, his heavy frame weighing you down. It doesn’t hurt, nor do you find it difficult to breathe with him over you, but he certainly feels much heavier than the other doctors. You feel almost good being held down like this because of the alcohol, but you can’t bring yourself to chastise yourself for it anymore.

With a close-lipped smile, Milos leans into you, taking your chin between his fingers forcing you to face him so that he can kiss you. You groan in protest as he presses his lips against yours, feeling the hairs of his beard brush against your chin, but can’t quite fight back against it. Much to your surprise, you feel Milos spit alcohol into your mouth, realizing that he’d taken some in his own so that he could force you to drink it this way. The burning sensation of the liquid takes you so suddenly, and you moan muffledly in protest while raising your hands to grip his cheeks, as if to pry him off of you. Unsurprisingly, you are unable to shake him away, and he presses his mouth against yours even harder while he continues to dribble the alcohol into you. You refuse to swallow the liquid, preferring to let it burn your mouth than ruin your head. Milos continues to kiss you, but realizes quickly that you’ve yet to swallow the liquor laced with his spit. Eventually, he pulls away, but he quickly slaps a hand over your mouth and watches you with a grin as you struggle to get away from him.

“Swallow it, pup,” he commands you. “It’s your punishment for struggling earlier. And if you continue to struggle now, I’ll force you to drink even more. I’ll give you the rest of the bottle if I have to.”

Hearing this scares you. The taste of this liquor is so disgusting that you can’t bear it, and you’re afraid of what will happen if you get too much of it when you’re not sure you’ve ever drank before. As it is, you don’t like the feeling of being drunk, but Milos is actively attempting to make it worse. You’re not even sure how much alcohol you can take, but you doubt you can outdrink someone like him whose likely already had more than a few glasses with how strongly he reeks of the scent of alcohol.

With hesitation and a burning throat, you gulp the liquor down, pleasing Milos. He lets go of your mouth and watches as you gasp at the sickening sensation of burning.

“Very good, little girl,” he praises you, patting your cheek again. He then moves to unbuckle his belt and undo the button and zipper on his slacks. You don’t want to look at him, but can’t bring yourself to look away as you watch him pull his pants down to expose his erect, red-tipped cock and his crotch which is riddled with thick hair that trails upward. Much to your shock, his dick is even thicker, if a bit shorter, than Yosuke’s, and it bothers you that you know this. The thing is also far veinier than any you’ve encountered thus far, but it doesn’t look all that grotesque, only darker than his skin and a little red.

“Do you like it, little pup?” Milos questions you teasingly, bouncing his penis up and down with one hand slightly. You finally turn away, but say nothing in response, your lips still stinging from being force-fed the liquor.

“It’s going to go inside of you whether you want it to or not,” the gruff doctor gives a hearty laugh as he positions himself over your body. He takes his rough hands and moves them between your thighs. You want to keep your legs shut, but he parts them with ease, gripping your skin tightly as he does so. As he gazes upon your fairly wet pussy, Milos chuckles. Unable to resist, he sticks a few fingers into you to feel just how wet you are, making slick noises with your juices as you wince in response to the rough skin of his fingers inside your pussy.

“Even with all that, it’s not enough. But it will do,” he grins, removing his fingers and preparing to thrust into you. In nervous anticipation, you shut your eyes and grunt loudly as you feel him force his way into you. You hadn’t expected him to be too much to handle, but your pussy squeezes around his cock extremely tightly as he refuses to take his time going in. Yosuke was, you realize, a perfect fit for you, but Milos feels like far too much. Even though he doesn’t reach as deeply inside your body as others before him, he still seems to fill you up quite a lot. The pressure of his cock isn’t unbearably painful, but it is uncomfortable even just as he remains motionless inside of you.

“Y-you’re too big!” You gasp, placing your hands against his stomach as if to push him away, but helpless as he digs deeper into you. Milos gives a hearty laugh.

“So? You’ll loosen up for me in time,” he chides you, pulling back and slamming his dick back inside you sharply, his crotch slapping against yours. This sudden movement does hurt this time, and you yelp in response.

“That hurts!” You cry, balling your fists over his stomach. “Please slow down!”

“Don’t fight me, pup,” Milos chastises you, repeating his powerful thrusting motion and making you yelp again. “I’ll hurt you even more if you do. You’re going to have to take me whether you want me or not.”

“I thought Yosuke told you not to hurt me!” You wince as you feel the pain more sharply. You feel embarrassed having to rely on your doctor, but don’t know what else to say to stop Milos from hurting you. However, the burly doctor grins and leans over you, pressing his hands on either side of your head.

“Ah, he did,” Milos chuckles. “But he’s not here, is he now?”

You widen your eyes as Milos begins to finally thrust into you repetitively, but when you try to yell in protest and in pain, he clamps one of his thick hands over your mouth. You raise both your hands to his wrist as you try to fight him off, but he is too strong for you to even shake him a little. You cry muffledly into his hand as you feel Milos’ thick cock penetrate you forcefully, and you fear that he’s going to rip your insides. The sensation is far too painful for you to bear, but you briefly remember Cyrus’ advice about pain and try to focus on something else. You shift your eyes to your left and see a few containers on a counter, so you try to keep focused on each one and imagine what’s inside of them while you endure Milos’ heavy, painful pounding.

Cotton balls? Tongue depressors?

You wince as Milos slams himself more forcefully against you.

“Look at me, pup,” he growls eagerly, cupping his hand over your mouth more strongly and shaking you just slightly. “Watch me as I rape you. Look at my face as I rip you open.”

…Needles? Razor blades…?

Milos continues to thrust into you while you whimper and moan in protest into his hand. You try desperately to avoid looking at him, but you keep catching glimpses of his hungry gaze as he grins cruelly while watching you writhe in pain. You eventually struggle to focus on the containers, unable to think straight as you’re fucked.

Eventually, you feel your body succumbing to his pounding, with your pussy slowly loosening up. The alcohol also begins to hit you most strongly now, your head now light and dizzy, your vision slightly blurring here and there. Your stomach burns with how much you’ve been forced to drink in so little a time, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on it the more Milos thrusts into you.

You feel your grip on his wrist loosen as your arms start to hurt from being held up so long. You find yourself spreading them against the sheets of your bed, gripping the cloth tightly as you cry loudly into Milos’ hand. Seeing this, he grins widely.

He continues to pump in and out of you, grunting and growling loudly as he concentrates on taking you. Eventually, he quickens his pace more and more as his body grows more excited. You can do no more than take Milos as he fucks you, feeling too woozy to fight back anymore. When he gets closer to climaxing, he suddenly moves both his hands around your neck and begins to apply pressure to a point that you struggle to breathe properly, making your eyes go wide and your heart beat wildly. Jolted into awareness at the sudden act, you grip your assailant’s wrists again and try to gasp for air, but find that you’re unable to as he slams your head against the pillow and keeps you in place while he rides you. You feel saliva dripping of your mouth as you choke, and you gaze up with horror at Milos’ twisted face as he grunts with pleasure watching you suffocate.

“Say my name!” He growls at you. “Say it!”

You struggle to do so, but desperately hope that he’ll let you go if you do.

“M…i…” you weakly squeak through the pressure in your throat. “…los…”

Milos laughs wildly between grunts, his gruff voice piercing your ears and leaving you shaking with fear.

He quickens his pace more and more until he grits his teeth, his face turning utterly red as he finally climaxes and spurts his semen inside of your cunt without warning. Your body responds to the pleasure as well, but your orgasm is hindered heavily by the sensation of being choked. Milos continues to buck his hips and grind primally against you, pumping his thick cock inside your cunt and slapping against your wet crotch with loud growls and grunts as he finishes spurting more and more of his thick cum into your body.

When he can’t bring himself to pump anymore, Milos gives a loud gasp and lets go of your neck, stopping his pumping rhythm and hunching over you with heavy, mouthed pants. Finally able to breathe again, you gasp wildly while gripping your neck, groaning slightly as you inhale deeply.

“Very good, little pup,” Milos cackles, pulling out of you and getting off the bed. “You’re very good…”

You struggle to speak, your throat still feeling swollen and slightly constricted despite the rough doctor’s hands no longer gripping it. You instead begin trembling and feel tears start to stream down your cheeks as you recover from the encounter, but you don’t understand why you feel your frustration so much more strongly this time when you hadn’t like this before. You avoid Milos’ gaze as you begin to sob, trying to wipe away the tears with Yosuke’s sleeve still over your forearm.

“Breaking already?” Milos scoffs at you. “I wasn’t finished.”

You are still unable to speak, but you shoot a furious glance at Milos with tears still streaming down your face. You try to get off the bed, not caring about whatever it is Milos intends to do to you as punishment for disobeying him. However, a sudden rush of wooziness hits your head as you stand, your limbs now suddenly feeling like jelly as you fall to your knees, only catching yourself with your palms on the floor. Your vision blurs more and more as you’re hit by the alcohol moreso now. As you stare at the ground, unable to move, the burly man kneels before you. You feel his strong hand grab your chin and force you to look up at his face. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased.

“You’re not finished yet, pup,” he informs you. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

You can’t bring yourself to properly respond, your entire body left feeling like jelly as everything you’re seeing and hearing blends together. Suddenly, you hear the scraping of what you presume to be the stool against the floor as Milos reaches over to grab it and pull it closer to him. He rises just enough to sit on it, grabbing you by your hair to bring you to your knees.

Still utterly groggy, you struggle to think properly about what’s happening until you feel Milos press his cock past your lips and shove it into your already-open mouth. You feel too weak to protest, but you try to grab his naked, spread thighs and push away instinctively. However, he tightens his grip on your hair and pushes your head forward, forcing his shaft deeper into your mouth.

You give a weak, muffled moan of protest as he does this, but know that you don’t have the energy to stop him from raping your mouth too. You curl your fingers against your assailant’s thighs, digging your nails into his skin as he forces your head back and forth, making you suck him off. Your jaw begins to hurt as you’re forced to open it enough to fit him, but he refuses to stop forcing your mouth on him. He eventually takes your head in both hands to make it easier to pull and push you over his cock, and you start to feel as though your entire jaw is tightening up with how long you’re forced to keep it open this way. You can taste a sourness in your mouth as Milos makes you take his cock down your throat, the thick thing pressing against your tongue deeply as it slides in and out of you. Every pump forces you to take heavy breaths through your nose, and eventually you feel tears streaming down your face again, unable to control them.

Milos seems to find this arousing, as he begins to quicken his pace. After a while of repeatedly taking his cock down your throat, Milos finally lets out a loud growl and comes into your mouth, coating your tongue and esophagus in his sour cum. You wince as you feel him ejaculating more and more of it into you, eventually pulling back as soon as you feel his grip on your hair loosen. Milos fails to stop you from pulling back in time, and you end up letting the excess cum dribble out of your mouth, panting heavily as you try to recover.

This infuriates Milos, and he grabs you by the throat and picks you up, letting your feet hang slightly as he raises you above him.

“You were supposed to swallow it,” he growls, shaking you slightly as you grip his wrist with both hands, choking yet again. Milos reaches toward the counter behind your bed and grabs an open bottle of what you presume to be the rest of the liquor, which is just less than half full now.

Without another word, Milos walks back over to your bed and throws you on it, still gripping your throat but now moving it up to your chin. You want to cry out in protest, but you can’t talk or think or much of anything anymore at this point. You feel completely dizzy and unable to process your thoughts anymore, the alcohol hitting you so strongly that you feel as though you’re not even in your own body.

“It’s a shame, my pup,” Milos frowns. “I wanted you to be awake just a little longer. But we all have our vices, yes?”

Your eyelids open just slightly in surprise as you feel Milos press the tip of the liquor bottle against your lips. But once the alcohol hits your tongue, you suddenly stop being able to process anything at all. Whatever it is that he does next, you can’t even properly store it in your memory. At some point, it feels as though you’ve blinked, and when you are finally able to process what’s going on with even a little clarity, you become aware of the familiar feeling of warm water pouring down on your body.

You no longer see Milos before you, and instead see Yosuke with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, now kneeling over your limp body in the shower.

Chapter 21: Visit Ten - Dearest

You blink wearily as you barely come to, but realize that you haven’t been asleep for that long since you still feel enormously woozy from the alcohol. Or…were you ever asleep? You can’t really remember. The only thing you can recall is being choked and raped by Milos.

You tremble as you recall the encounter before your mind went blank, your chest tightening and your heart sinking deeply. Again, you feel tears beginning to well up inside you, even though you want to stop them. Unable to contain your emotions now, you throw yourself against Yosuke desperately and wrap your arms around him, heaving a few heavy breaths as you cry. Without a word, your doctor returns your embrace, wrapping his arms strongly around you and pulling your wet, naked body close to his warmth. He leans your head against his shoulder, letting you sob into it. You’re not sure whether you’re angry, scared, or sad, but you can’t stop the tears now that they’ve come again.

“Why did he do that to me...? Your voice shakes weakly. “What happened to me?”

“You blacked out,” Yosuke tells you simply, his voice low and gentle as he tries to console you. “You were given a lot of alcohol in a short time, so you started having a issues with your memory. You were awake this whole time, you just stopped being able to process things consciously.”

“What…?” You widen your eyes, balling your fists.

“I thought Milos would be on his best behavior, which is why I allowed him to see you when he asked persistently,” Yosuke continues, holding you tighter. “Evidently, I was wrong. I’ll talk with him when he sobers up, but there’s not much I can do about it otherwise. You won’t be seeing him anymore, if I can help it.”

“Yosuke…what did he do to me?” You tremble.

“Don’t think about it right now,” your doctor advises you. “That’s in the past. You’re here now, with me.”

Your tears slowly subside, your face feeling puffier now.

“Am I still drunk?” You ask him, unsure of what you’re feeling anymore. He nods.

“It hasn’t been terribly long,” Yosuke tells you, pulling away and letting you rest your back against the shower wall while water pours over your naked body. “The alcohol hasn’t entirely passed through your system, and it might be a while before it does, with how much of it is in you.”

He gently cups your cheek, but it somehow feels different than he’s done it before and you can’t really explain why.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning,” Yosuke continues. “He didn’t give you the whole bottle, but he did give you far more than he should have. Milos often forgets that we’re not supposed to break you on purpose, even if we have the ability to bring new people in.”

You wrap your arms around your body, not eager to let Yosuke see you naked right now. But, you know that it doesn’t do much good, given that he’s already seen you and that he has to take care of you now anyway. You feel far too weak to fight him, and even though he’s the last person you want to see, you admit you want someone with you right now, even if that someone is a person who you don’t think you can trust. At least in comparison to some other doctors, you can talk to Yosuke about these things far easier.

“I haven’t felt this bad since my first visit,” you look down, tightening your grip on your arms. “Why did you let this happen? How can you be okay with this?”

“I never said I was okay with all of it,” Yosuke reminds you, rubbing a bit of bodywash into your neck with a washcloth you hadn’t noticed before. “There are things I know and overlook because I have to, and there are things I don’t know and choose not to ask about. It’s better that way. You’re not the only one who has to adhere to a set of rules here.”

You tilt your head upward and let the water flow over your face, not sure how to respond to your doctor anymore. He doesn’t force you to talk, instead just continuing to wash your body for you while you try to put the previous encounter behind you. Perhaps it’s because you’re still relatively drunk, but you still feel like crying to express your frustrations. You don’t really want to anymore because your eyes actually hurt now, so you try to hold yourself back as much as you can while Yosuke washes you and lets the water rinse you off from above. After a long silence between you two, you close your eyes and try to force yourself back to sleep. You don’t want to be awake anymore, especially not now.

After a moment, you feel yourself ready to succumb to another wave of sleep. However, Yosuke prevents this and takes you by surprise as you feel his warm lips against yours. You open your eyes suddenly, reaching up to push him away, but he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer, preventing you from doing so. He doesn’t kiss you as forcefully as he has in the past, but rather warmly and softly. Your face grows red as he locks his lips against yours, and you find yourself closing your eyes again as he takes you. He moves his head back and forth as he pecks at you, breathing heavily through his nose with his eyes closed. You can feel water dripping from his head and onto yours, as he accidentally leans in too close and gets wet from the shower head as well. Strangely, he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

You aren’t sure why you’re letting him kiss you. You want to chalk it up to the drunkenness just to make yourself feel better about letting him touch you willingly. Either way, you’re liplocked with your doctor and you can’t bring yourself to hate it right now.

After a brief while, Yosuke pulls away and looks at you in contemplation. You aren’t sure what he intends to do now, but he does reach up to turn off the water, then to grab a towel that has been hanging over the shower door next to, you presume, another coat of his. He remains silent as he uses it to dry you off gently. You blush as he carefully pats your scalp and neck, and you hesitantly release your grip on your body to let him dry your breasts and your legs. You notice that you have a few bruises on your chest and stomach, and you feel angry knowing how roughly you’ve been treated.

Once Yosuke finishes drying you, he stands back up, towering above you. He grabs his coat from the door, moving to place it over your body rather than leaving you naked. After he’s done this, he kneels down and takes you up in his arms, lifting your body up without a word. He takes you out of the shower, but promptly starts moving toward the entrance of the area.

“What are you doing?” You question him wearily, gripping his coat to keep your body covered. “What about my clothes?”

“I’ll bring you new ones later,” Yosuke tells you simply, continuing to walk into the hallway. You duck your head and tightly wrap your body with Yosuke’s coat as best you can, hoping that nobody else is in the hallway with you that could see you naked. Luckily, it’s empty as Yosuke quietly carries you to your bedroom. You gasp slightly when you realize what he’s doing.

“P-please, I don’t want to do this right now…” you weakly beg, gripping his shirt tightly. “I’m so tired.”

Yosuke punches in your room code and walks in, promptly moving to your bed and lowering you gently upon it.

“I want to make it up to you, my dear,” he coos, petting your head and sliding his hand over your cheek. “I thought you might want something better than what you endured today.”

Still tightly gripping Yosuke’s coat and covering your body, you look away from him, blushing.

“I can’t,” you tremble. “Please…”

Yosuke says nothing as he pulls away from you, undoing his grey patterned tie and unbuttoning his blue dress shirt, which is still a little damp from where you cried on his shoulder. After undressing his torso, he kicks off his shoes, then unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, pulling down both them and his underwear so that he is completely naked before you, strangely flaccid for once. You continue to look away, not wanting to face him yet. You wanted to trust him, but now he seems to want to take advantage of your weakness and fuck you. At least, you think that’s what’s happening. You can’t tell anymore, and it almost seems like none of this is even real with how lightheaded you still feel.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Yosuke chuckles softly, peeling his coat delicately away from your body and revealing your naked frame. When you turn back toward him in alarm, you catch sight of him gently removing his thick-rim glasses and gazing at you lovingly with his olive eyes. “I know you think ill of me, but I want you to trust me, just for now.”

You continue to try covering your body with your arms, pressing your legs together and blushing wildly as your doctor climbs into the bed with you. Rather than getting on top of you, he lays beside your body. The sudden change in his approach takes you aback, and you look at him with confusion.

“Come here,” he coos, wrapping his arms around you and shifting your body to its side so that he can hold you closer. Again, your arms are pressed against his chest, feeling his bare skin now while he holds you. A sense of comfort envelops you as you feel his warmth, your body heating up despite still being relatively damp from the shower and slightly cold with the frigid air.

“What are you doing?” Your lip quivers. “Why are you suddenly being like this with me?”

Yosuke laughs gently, saying nothing and pulling you forward with a hand on the back of your head so that he can kiss you again. He closes his eyes as he softly presses against you, and you moan slightly in protest at his advances. However, feeling him again makes your body shiver, and you admit that it feels good to be kissed lovingly this way. You scrunch up your hands over Yosuke’s chest the more he kisses you, and you find yourself closing your eyes as well. You let a light moan slip out on accident, but he doesn’t tease you for it this time, much to your surprise.

After a while of being kissed until you’re dizzy, Yosuke finally pulls away from your lips and instead moves toward your ear, giving it a gentle lick, which makes you whimper.

“S-stop that…” you beg him, blushing wildly. You haven’t felt him lick you there in a while, but it makes your body shiver now that he’s doing it again. Yosuke continues to say nothing, but instead chuckles lightly at you while licking your ear again playfully, making you moan. You duck your head away from his tongue and lean it against his chest in response.

“No more, please…” you beg again breathily. “Yosuke…”

“Ten,” he calls out to your surprise. “I want to make you feel good.”

Hearing your number escape his lips is strange, as he’s only ever really used pet names with you. When you hear your doctor finally say it, you pick your head up to look at him and see his olive gaze fixated warmly on you. Yosuke is smiling gently, and when you finally look at him, you feel the back of his hand sweetly caress your cheek.

“I love you, and I want you to be content,” he coos, making your heart flutter and your cheeks red. “At least so long as you’re with me. You’re still mine, and I can do what I like with you. But I do care about you. Right now, I want to show you just how much. Just this once, I’ll be exactly what you wish I was.”

He twists himself over you just slightly so that he can adequately tower above you with his upper body without having to completely straddle you otherwise. He places both hands on either side of your head to steady himself, staring into you intently. You stare back at him with wide, confused eyes, but blush wildly as you feel his body heat close to yours and smell his familiar scent.

“Just lie there for me, and I’ll do all the work,” Yosuke instructs you gently, cupping your cheek delicately with one hand. “I’ll make you feel good, but you’ll have to trust me. Alright?”

You hesitate for a moment, gazing up at him with uncertainty. You’re not sure what to make of his strange behavior now, but you eventually give a slow nod, agreeing to let him touch you. Upon doing so, Yosuke releases your cheek and leans in to continue kissing and sucking at your ear, this time more slowly and lovingly than he had before. The sensation makes your body even warmer, and you tilt your head back against your pillow, moaning as he kisses your ear. His breathy sucking reverberates deep in your eardrums, and the vibrations of it and the feeling of his wet tongue and lips against such a sensitive area excites your body. A part of you wants to push him away, but you can’t bring yourself to do so. All you do manage to do is lift your hands up and place them on his shoulders as he sucks and licks you tenderly. Occasionally, he stops to nibble at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine when he does.

“Does it feel good?” He whispers, making you blush harder and harder. You can’t bring yourself to speak right now, so you slowly nod. Smiling, Yosuke continues his loving assault on your other ear now. He drops a hand down to your breast and begins massaging it slowly, circling your nipple and gently rubbing it back and forth while he laps up your ear. You whimper as you feel his hand on you, but let him touch your body nonetheless. You admit you’ve never felt him be this gentle with you before, and you find yourself practically melting at his touch now that he’s not being forceful.

After a while of toying with your ears, he drops his other hand to your other breast and plays with it as well, also moving his lips to your neck and giving you gentle, short kisses along it.

“Ah!” You gasp, tightening your grip on Yosuke’s broad shoulders as the pleasure of his teasing overcomes you. You moan as he continues to touch you in silence, focused on stimulating your body as much as he can. You shut your legs tighter, feeling your pussy becoming wetter the more he touches you, and you slowly start to burn with the desire to feel Yosuke’s dick inside of you.

When he sees you becoming more and more flustered, Yosuke moves his whole body over you, but shifts backward on the bed so that he’s lower and not directly above your head. You watch as he gently moves in to kiss your chest, pulling back then going lower to give another light kiss on your body. He repeats this motion as he trails down your breasts, stomach, and abdomen, eventually reaching your crotch. He smiles and rubs your thighs, making you tremble slightly. You grip the sheets beneath you for support as you feel Yosuke’s hands part your legs. After you’re wide open for him, he leans in to kiss your thighs, moving from the knee up this time until he has nothing left to peck at.

He looks up at you then, watching you as your chest rises and falls eagerly, your face red and your eyes glossed over. Seeing you overcome with pleasure from just a bit of foreplay evidently excites him, but he continues to say nothing and instead moves his head between your legs, licking your slit eagerly, but slowly. You whimper at the sensation, but he continues to tongue you gently, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue and brushing his hands up and down both of your thighs to help stimulate you. Eventually, he moves two of his fingers into your pussy with tender care, sliding them in until he feels that you’ve accepted them fully. Still tonguing your clit, he gently thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

You reach over as if to push his head away, unsure of whether you want to keep letting him touch you because you don’t want to have to admit that you do, but Yosuke persists in his playing with your pussy, and you can’t bring yourself to try to stop him. Feeling Yosuke this way reminds you of your first visit with him, but knowing that he’s being gentle now drives you utterly insane. You want him to take you more and more, and you can’t bring yourself to fight the urge right now with how woozy you feel.

When Yosuke feels the walls of your vagina tightening around his digits, he begins to quicken his pace somewhat, letting out a gentle but pleasurable moan as he toys with your body using his mouth and fingers.

“Y-Yosuke…!” You gasp, feeling your body respond eagerly to him. Soon, he begins to go faster, still kissing at and sucking your clit lovingly while you ride his fingers. You tighten your grip on Yosuke’s hair as he moves his head around between your legs. He removes his fingers from you and substitutes it with his flicking tongue, moving his hand to your clit instead and massaging it playfully with his wet fingertips. You soon find yourself bucking your hips against his face in pleasure, gasping and moaning desperately as you start to come.

“Please no!” you beg him, trying desperately to hold on to your resistance despite feeling yourself completely letting go. However, you can’t fight it any longer and come into Yosuke’s face, moaning breathily as you grip the hair on his scalp in pleasure. As you finish up, Yosuke laps at your pussy hungrily and lovingly, not letting a drop of your juices go to waste.

When he’s finally finished eating you out, Yosuke moves back upward and straddles you, pressing both palms against the bed again. He looks into your glossy eyes with softness and gives a warm smile. You notice that his cock has become hard and is dripping just slightly with his precum, where it was somewhat flaccid when he started. He seems to want you bad, just as you silently want him.

“Ten,” he coos with a warm smile, making you blush. “I want you to feel good, but you have to be honest with yourself about what you want.”

You widen your eyes a bit, your hands trembling as they continue to press against the sheets of your bed.

“I…” You hesitate, unsure of what to say. “I can’t…”

Yosuke rubs the back of his hand gently down your cheek, making you turn away in embarrassment as he continues going up and down along it slowly.

“My darling, I’ll tell you what,” he begins. “I won’t hold anything that happens today against you if only you’re honest with what you’re feeling. What happens now will stay where it is now. I won’t tease you about it afterward, but I will tease you about anything else, as I like to do.”

You shift your eyes toward him, glancing in Yosuke’s direction with uncertainty, though he seems to be sincere. He then moves his hand under your chin and places a thumb over it, gently positioning your head back up and gripping you somewhat firmly to make sure you don’t break your gaze from him or try to turn away.

“Do you want me inside of you, my dear?” He questions you lovingly, still smiling warmly. “Do you want me to touch you?”

He brushes his thumb slowly over your lips.

“To love you?”

You shut your eyes and blush heavily, tightening your grip on the sheets beneath you. You don’t want to have to give into him, but you want to believe that it’s okay to just let go once in a while if only you can retain your sense of independence otherwise. Yosuke is here quite literally giving you the chance to act like you’re his without consequence. Yet, you are afraid to entirely trust it.

You don’t know what to do, but you’re feeling frustrated and turned on so much that you can’t bring yourself to fight anymore or deny his offer. As he drops his thumb again, you open your mouth as if to speak.

You only hope that he keeps his word.

“Y-yes,” you finally respond shakily, but with a hesitant voice. Yosuke leans into your ear and whispers,

“Say it louder, my dear.”

You open your eyes suddenly and wince, your face growing hot as you feel his low voice in your ear and his breath on your face.

“I…” You shiver, hesitant with a quivering lip. You ball your hands as you feel your bed sheet tugging beneath their grip.

“…I…want you inside of me, Yosuke.”

You blush as the words escape your lips, and you feel utterly weak begging for his cock like this. You hope that this doesn’t mean you’re a coward abandoning their principles, but you can’t bring yourself to fight him. At least not now, and certainly not while still under the influence of the alcohol. You’re sure, or at least you hope, that you can continue to resist him another time. But for now…

“Then I’ll come inside you as you like,” Yosuke grins slightly. He leans in to give you a kiss on your cheek, then whispers softly,

“My dearest.”

He releases your chin and moves his hand toward your labia, separating it with his fingers and slowly moving his cock into you.

“I’ll be gentle,” is all he says before he takes you.

Once he’s entered you, Yosuke moves both his hands toward your wrists and moves your arms up above your head. He leans against you so that both his and your forearms are touching, but he doesn’t necessarily pin you down forcefully. Rather, he keeps you in place while he begins to thrust into you.

Yosuke starts slowly as promised, making long, gentle strides as he slides his cock in and out of you. He blushes slightly and gasps with each thrust, aroused by your succumbing to him. You feel wrong having done so, but you prefer his gentle touch to his forceful rape. You’d rather see Yosuke this way than the way you have before. Even if you suspect in the back of your mind that he’s playing you for a fool, you can’t help but feel pleasure as he pumps gently into you, moaning lovingly as he takes you.

You can’t help but moan yourself as you’re thrust into, feeling Yosuke’s crotch rubbing against your clit with each slow rhythm. Though you don’t want to at first, you eventually stare into his olive eyes as he takes you, his face overcome with simple and adoring pleasure in a way you’ve not seen before. Watching him work your body gently makes you want to trust him, but you aren’t sure if you should.

Eventually, Yosuke leans in and kisses you warmly, keeping his eyes closed as he does so. He gives a few light pecks at first, but soon sucks on your lips and breathes heavily through his nose. You don’t fight him this time, and instead find yourself kissing him back, now eager to let him touch you. Each pump of Yosuke’s cock leaves you dizzy, and each kiss that you return to him makes him want to pump into you more and more. After a while he does quicken his pace, moving his hands over yours and tightening his grip on them as he thrusts faster and faster into you. You give a few gasps and moans as you feel his sex more strongly, and eventually buck your hips in rhythm with him, wanting to come when he does. To make yourself feel even better, you spread your legs more and bring your knees up so that Yosuke can pump into you without an issue, and so that you feel his thrusts more intensely.

The both of you give a series of grunts, moans, and pants as you slowly stop kissing and instead start concentrating on your intercourse. However, to keep you feeling good, Yosuke moves in to kiss your neck while you lay your head back and moan eagerly.

“Ten,” Yosuke pants after a while of thrusting. “I’m going to come.”

“Me…too,” you groan, blushing wildly, grinding your hips against Yosuke’s body eagerly as he rides you. The room fills with wet slapping noises as he pumps more and more into your body, and soon, you find yourself moving your hands out from under Yosuke’s and reaching out to him, wrapping your arms around him desperately as he continues to ride you, thrusting his hips more and more and pumping his cock into your pussy intensely. After a while, Yosuke finally calls out,

“I’m coming!”

Within moments, the both of you orgasm, and you can feel Yosuke’s thick cum dribbling inside your cunt without stopping. He continues to pump into your pussy to assure that he shoves his semen deep inside of you, watching your face eagerly as he does so.

“Yosuke!” You cry throwing your head back as you’re ridden and thrust into. Your body feels warm as he pumps you with his seed, and you want to feel more and more of him deep inside you with every bit of cum you feel flowing into you.

However, as your orgasm slowly ends, you start to think more clearly and feel guilty for having succumbed to your doctor, wondering whether you made the right choice to trust him just this once. But before you have the chance to think too much more about it, Yosuke leans into your ear yet again.

“Do you want more?” He asks you, moving a hand down and rubbing your abdomen with it. “I still have more cum to give you, if you want it.”

You look at him with uncertainty again, unsure of how to respond. Having some control over sex with him seems strange, if not utterly satisfying. You admit that you still want to feel more of him. You can’t bring yourself to say yes outright, but you nod slowly, blushing as you do.

“As you wish, my darling,” he coos, moving his hand over your abdomen back up and giving your cheek a quick rub. He eventually lets you go, dropping your upper body gently back on your bed, and moves back toward the end of the bed again. This time, he picks your hips up with both his hands and angles your pelvis up slightly as he kneels on the bed.

“Ten, I’m going in now,” Yosuke tells you as he begins to push his way inside of you again. Being at this angle makes you feel much more open to him, but you’re not sure if he glides into your body easily because you’re extremely wet, or because of the position. Nonetheless, his cock fits you perfectly, and you feel your body wrapping around it eagerly in response to his entry.

Grunting, he begins to thrust into you again, still going slow as promised. He is able to penetrate you deeply now with how wet you are, so he slowly does, occasionally wiggling his body around when he enters you to stimulate your clit before pulling back to start another thrust. You moan pleasurably with each movement, turning your head and biting your forearm to keep yourself from wailing too loudly.

“There’s no need to be shy, my dearest,” Yosuke laughs gently at you from between his grunts and pants. “I promised I wouldn’t tease you for what you do today.”

You still don’t know whether to trust him, though you know you’re already in deep as it is. Before you can think about it, he pumps faster into you, gripping your hips tightly and slapping his crotch against yours with loud, wet noises. You moan sharply as he suddenly increases his speed, but aren’t against him doing so. You again grip the sheets under you and throw your head back as Yosuke rides you, curling your toes the deeper you feel his cock thrusting inside your pussy.

Yosuke pants faster as he pumps into your body, his eyes fixated only on you as you writhe and groan in pleasure at his taking you. After a while, you feel yourself growing more flustered, and you know you’re about to come.

“Y-Yosuke…!” You cry out again, but can’t seem to get any more words out of your mouth as you’re pumped into furiously. However, your doctor knows just what you want to tell him, and he smiles at you eagerly as he watches you overcome with pleasure.

After a few more thrusts into your body, you finally give one loud wail and buck again against Yosuke’s cock in ecstasy, coming as he continues to fuck you. Before long, he orgasms as well, but doesn’t announce it this time. Pumping into you eagerly, he begins to spurt more cum inside your body, panting heavily and groaning loudly as he releases inside of you. He gives a few slow thrusts as he comes, eventually pushing his way into you and staying inside you as he finishes.

Once everything has slowed to a halt, Yosuke’s chest begins to rise and fall sharply as he takes in air, trying to recover from his orgasm. He watches you do the same, your eyes glossed over and your chest rising and falling slowly but deeply. You feel saliva dripping down from your open mouth as you suck in air, making Yosuke chuckle softly at you.

“Ten, you look beautiful like this,” he compliments you, slowly pulling out of your pussy and lowering your hips. He crawls forward to join you as you lay on your bed, taking his place beside you and turning your body so that he can pull it closer to his.

“Did it feel good?” He asks you gently, petting the back of your head as he holds you. You feel extremely weak after letting someone else use your body even more while you’re still fairly tipsy, but you can’t bring yourself to say no to Yosuke’s question. You don’t exactly give him a “yes” either, however.

“I’m so sleepy,” you quietly tell him instead, your voice weary now that your exhaustion is becoming more apparent as the pleasure subsides. Yosuke kisses your head and laughs softly.

“Then sleep, my dearest,” he tells you, but you shake your head.

“I don’t want to fall asleep around you.”

Yosuke’s grip on your body tightens.

“Don’t be so afraid of me,” he chides you slightly while still maintaining his quieter, gentler tone. “I won’t hurt you while you're unconscious. If you want to stay in my arms for a while, I’ll let you.”

You blush at his words, unsure of what to do. You don’t feel like getting up right now, though you’re worried about what Yosuke might do with your body when you’re unconscious. Even if he says he won’t, you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea after you learned that Milos likely raped you while you were unable to register him doing so.

You don’t give your doctor any more responses, but you find that the longer you lay with him and feel his naked warmth pressed against your body, the harder it is to keep your eyes open. You eventually lean into his chest in defeat as your eyes start to close, your body failing to fight the exhaustion you feel. After a while, you finally succumb to sleep and pass out naked in Yosuke’s arms.

Chapter 22: Rest Ten - Dream

You hear a few laughing voices from somewhere in the distance, but you aren’t able to tell from where. You blink and realize that you’re lying on your back with a hand over your stomach and the other lying beside you on some kind of deep green grass that pricks against your skin just slightly and smells light and fresh. Above you is a sky dotted with puffy, almost picturesque white clouds that glide ever so slowly through the air. The color of the sky has a bit of a gradient, with orange hues licking upward from the horizon and slightly painting the undersides of some of the clouds. You can’t see the entire area around you, but you can tell that the sun is starting to set with the orange color you see. It’s actually beautiful to gaze at, and you can feel warm, fresh air billowing about smoothly as it tussles your hair around.

Staying where you are, you shift your eyes to your left and right and notice that you’re in some kind of a garden with towering green bushes that are trimmed squarely and have touches of the orange sunlight from above you peeking over them slightly. Though you’re sure you’re in a garden, the area is not anything like the one garden you’re most familiar with. In fact, you’re not even sure you’re in the facility now. You’re definitely aware that something strange is happening, but you’re unsure what to make of it yet. Despite the lingering possibility in your mind that none of this is real, you almost feel at peace resting here and so you don’t rush to get up.

Unfortunately, your gentle quiet is interrupted by the sound of crunching footsteps in the grass that resonate toward your direction. You realize you’d closed your eyes and now open them again at the sudden noise, only to be faced with Nathaniel and Jonathan towering over you with warm smiles on their faces.

“There you are,” Nathaniel calls out to you eagerly, bending down to stretch out a hand. “We’ve been waiting for you, Ten.”

You blush as he comes closer, but he doesn’t seem to be moving to do anything strange with you. Jonathan ends up following his associate’s lead, stretching out his hand as well as he bends lower toward you.

“You’ve been asleep for a while,” he laughs softly. “The others were afraid you weren’t ever going to wake up, you know.”

You’re unsure of how to respond, utterly confused by what’s happening. However, you allow the young men to take your hands and lift you up gently, and they steady you as you feel the grass against your bare feet. You seem to be wearing the same thing you usually do, but your skin and your gown look much more saturated in such bright, natural orange light.

“Ten, we’re quite happy for you,” Nathaniel chimes in with a gentle, happy voice, his face illuminated by light orange hues. He and Jonathan still appear to be holding your hands gently, but you don’t pull away from them for some reason. You instead look at Nathaniel with a confused expression, still completely in the dark as to what’s happening.

“You’re very lucky,” Jonathan adds with a gleeful smile. “You know that, right?”

“What are you…?” You can’t even bring yourself to finish asking the question, still hopelessly lost. Before you can try to ask again, Nathanial turns his head a little and looks into the distance.

“We should probably get you to the others,” he tells you. “They’ve been waiting for a while.”

He and Jonathan pull themselves in closer and wrap their other arms around your waist, standing on either side of you and still holding your hands delicately.

“Come on!” Jonathan laughs, walking forward in stride with his partner and helping him usher you along.

“W-where are you taking me?” You blush as you feel yourself being led away, but neither man answers you outright. You’re guided along a few paths of bushes, taking a few turns through what you assume is a garden maze until you reach the exit, where there’s another separate area with some kind of beautiful white structure that is rounded at the top and held up by round columns arranged in a circle. You aren’t familiar with what this structure is called, but you can recall that it’s often used in outdoor areas like parks as decoration or for celebrations and parties. This one doesn’t seem to be as grand as what you’d expect from a structure like this, though.

Under the structure’s roof is a small table with a white tablecloth on it, and sitting around it in white chairs are Sven, Jude, and Mom, none of whom have their coats on. They all laugh together over some kind of private joke, but turn when they see you approaching them, ushered in by Nathaniel and Jonathan.

“There she is!” Mom exclaims gleefully, rising from the table and rushing to meet you. She takes both your cheeks in her hands and begins to relentlessly kiss your forehead.

“Oh, my baby, I’m so happy for you!” She giggles, her sweet breath hitting your face.

“Why don’t you leave some for Yosuke?” Sven teases with a wide smirk of his reddish lips, taking a sip of some kind of amber liquor in a square glass that looks like the one you drank from before. “You’re gonna smother her like that.”

“Oh, but I’m just so happy for my pretty girl!” Mom smiles wide, putting a soft-skinned hand under your chin delicately. “Look at you, so beautiful and lovely!”

“What are you talking about?” You ask with worry, observing her green gaze and flushed face, almost angry that nobody’s given you a clear answer as to what’s going on. Mom drops her hands and plants them on your shoulders, looking at you warmly with a wide, pink smile.

“Your wedding, little girl,” she chuckles. “You and Yosuke are in love, no?”

You blush, your mouth now agape at such a question and at the idea of being married off to someone like him.

“I…”

“He is quite the catch, I’m almost a little jealous,” Mom giggles. “Don’t you all think so?”

“If you like that sort of thing,” Sven shrugs his shoulders. He takes another quick sip of his drink before finally rising from his seat.

“Mother always was fond of the sweeter doctors,” Jude chuckles, following Sven’s lead in standing, then patting his associate on the back of his grey blazer.

Nathaniel and Jonathan suddenly release their hold on you, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around yourself tightly with uncertainty on how to feel about all of this. You’re aware that whatever’s happening is not real by now, but it feels disturbingly vivid to you. You’re not sure where such a scenario is even coming from, or how you can vividly picture a scene like this despite not having been outside since you came to the facility. You want to think about whether you’ve seen a place like this before in real life or a book, or anything at all, but you can’t bring yourself to recollect it.

“A kiss, for our blushing bride,” Nathaniel gently croons, motioning to Jonathan. The both of them lean over to your face and gently kiss each cheek with adoring pecks, pulling back and smiling at you as you put a hand up to one cheek and blush. You look down at yourself then and suddenly notice you’re wearing a long white dress rather than your rose gown. It’s an ornate thing that hangs on your shoulders, with a skirt that widens past your hips and surrounds your feet, though you can still feel that you’re barefoot. You aren’t sure when this change happened, but it feels strange to you, disorienting.

“We should get going,” Sven calls out to everyone. “It’s gonna start soon.”

“I guess so,” Mom sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders. “But we still haven’t heard from—"

She’s suddenly interrupted by the loud rustling of branches and leaves from a bush somewhere to her left, and everyone then turns to look at it in surprise. From the bush, two strong hands push through the branches and separate them, a grunt echoing from behind them as this person parts what’s before him. The hands remain there for a moment, and Gale first emerges, ducking under the bush’s manmade opening and almost tripping on the grass as they exit their makeshift bush pathway. Once they’ve passed, Milos follows from behind them, pushing through the branches without a problem given his wide frame. Both he and Gale are covered in lingering leaves which stick out from their hair. Gale pulls theirs out one by one, but Milos simply runs a hand up and down his scalp until all the leaves have been brushed away.

Neither of the doctors are wearing their coats either, you notice. You’re not too terribly displeased to see Gale, but catching sight of Milos now after you know what he did to you makes you shudder instinctively. You want to pinch the back of your hand to calm yourself, but before you can react otherwise, Nathaniel takes your hand and squeezes it to comfort you, sensing your jittery reaction.

“We aren’t going to hurt you, Ten,” Jonathan leans in from your right to whisper in your ear as he, too, senses your discomfort. “We’re here to celebrate and cheer for you. It’s your special day, you know.”

You look down, unsure of how to feel about what you’re being told. You want to wake up, but you can’t bring yourself to for some reason. You only hope that this dream ends very soon.

“Sorry we’re late,” Gale laughs softly, grabbing your attention. “We took a wrong turn in the maze.”

“Ah, we would have been here sooner if Gale hadn’t gotten us lost,” Milos taps Gale’s shoulder with a roughened hand, playfully, but still a little condescendingly. “Always lost, this one.”

“Hey, don’t patronize my sense of direction, old man,” Gale chuckles, nudging him. They then gaze upon you and smile gently, walking toward you with Milos following behind.

“You look darling, kitten,” they compliment you, cupping your cheek gently in their hand. “I’m happy for you.”

Milos approaches you next as Gale lets you go, and he puts his hands on your shoulders and kisses both cheeks with quick pecks.

“Congratulations, little pup,” he smiles. Feeling him close to you again makes you tremble, but Nathaniel continues to squeeze your hand to comfort you.

“Can we get going now?” Sven calls out, slowly walking closer to the soiree of doctors before him and being followed by Jude. “It’s getting really late.”

“That depends, are you going to finish that?” Milos points at Sven’s near-empty glass, but the blond man shakes his head and hands it to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

“Don’t tell him that, he actually will,” Jude chimes in with a chortle, making his partner chuckle as well. The other doctors give a bit of a laugh as Milos takes the glass and slams down the rest of the liquor. You feel utterly uneasy at the sight and at everything happening in general, but Jonathan tugs at your arm gently which causes you to turn your head toward him.

“Come on,” He smiles, softly staring at you with his darling amber eyes. “You want to see him, don’t you?”

“You two lead,” Jude tells the two young men beside you, loosely waving his hand in their direction. “She seems to like you.”

You blush more at this assumption, whipping your head toward him with a frustrated look on your face. However, you have no time to really think about it as both Nathaniel and Jonathan put a hand on each shoulder and start guiding you away from the center of the area, leading you toward another bush pathway. As you are forced to walk with them, the others follow happily, laughing and talking behind you about things you don’t really understand or care about. Everything about this feels wrong, yet your heart flutters at the thought of seeing Yosuke again. You don’t like that it does.

After passing a fairly long sequence of bushes, Nathaniel and Jonathan stop you and allow the others to pass. You watch as they turn a corner, disappearing behind it. Nathaniel then leans in and pets your head gently.

“Are you nervous?” He asks you softly. You look at him with a flushed face and confused eyes, but he finds this amusing and chuckles slightly.

“You’ll be alright,” he promises, standing straight again and dropping his hand. He and Jonathan move to take both your arms in theirs, keeping you close to them. You want to get away, but they tighten their hold on you.

“Don’t be so jittery, little doll,” Jonathan coos. “You want to look your best for your groom, don’t you?”

You look down, not wanting to give an answer. Your head feels dizzy and light, and you’ve begun to tremble in your white dress.

“We’re ready!” Mom’s voice calls from around the bush, and both young men escorting you calmly begin to walk you around the bush. As you turn the corner, you see a long white cloth at your feet extending down a flat, concrete pathway and toward a slightly elevated platform where Yosuke is standing eagerly in wait for you. Strangely, he is the only other person than you in an outfit other than what they usually wear. Instead of his blue dress shirt and slacks, he’s got on a black tuxedo and slacks with a white dress shirt and black tie. You admit that he looks handsome in it, but you still feel uneasy knowing that you’re being sent off to be married to him, even if it is just in a dream. The idea sickens you.

Other than the scenery, this hardly feels like a traditional wedding. You’re unsure whether you’ve ever been to one, but you know for a fact this isn’t how you remember it being done. There is no altar, no rows of chairs with friends and family filling them, and no real formality other than in what you’re wearing. It’s like a mock wedding of some kind.

You wish you could enjoy dreaming of the outdoors if only this weren’t taking place right now. You’re not even sure why you’d even dream up a scenario like this. Are you sick in the head and fantasizing about being Yosuke’s? Are you manifesting your frustrations and fears? Is this a coping mechanism? You really don’t understand it.

To the left and right of the long carpet aisle are each of the other doctors and, to your shock, three of the other numbers. On your right, Jude and Milos are standing side by side, gazing at you intently with smiles on their faces as you arrive from around the corner. On the left, Sven, Mom, and Gale are standing eagerly with their overseen Numbers standing before them. All three Numbers have their hands behind their backs and bound by devices that look familiar to you. You realize they’re the same as the long metal cuffs you were restrained with back when you were first brought to the facility.

Sven has his arms possessively around Lav with a smirk on his lips as he catches sight of you, while Mom has her hands on either side of Cyrus’ head, and Gale has their hands on Six’s shoulders. Seeing the doctors possessively holding your friends makes you well with anger, but you can’t bring yourself to fight back with Nathaniel and Jonathan holding your arms tightly in theirs. None of the Numbers are acknowledging you, looking instead at the ground with unease in their eyes.

You almost start to tear up seeing them here, but you don’t have the time to react otherwise as both young men ushering you start to guide you down the carpeted aisle and toward Yosuke. He gazes at you lovingly with his olive eyes, and you blush and squirm as you’re drawn closer to him.

Unable to avoid it, you’re placed before Yosuke by Nathaniel and Jonathan, and they promptly release you and take their place beside Jude and Milos. You try to back away from your groom to-be, but he gently places a hand under your chin and rubs his thumb over your lips.

“You look beautiful,” he smiles warmly. “My pet.”

You shake your head with wet eyes

“Yosuke, I don’t want this, please stop!” You beg him, but your doctor refuses to listen to you. Instead, he calls out to the others in the aisle.

“Where’s my ringbearer?”

You turn your head toward the aisle to see Eight sauntering down it with his arms in front of him, cuffed. He doesn’t seem to be eager to look up at anyone or anything in particular, but he does eventually look at you when he reaches you and Yosuke.

“Eight…” You tremble. “Please help me.”

The boy shakes his head as Yosuke drops his hand from your chin and pops open the boy’s harness, taking it off of his wrists.

“You’re pathetic,” Eight spits, scowling. “You’re letting him do this even after everything I told you.”

“I’m not-“

“I wish I could say I thought you’d be different,” Eight interrupts you, balling his fist and opening it as he feels his hands free now. “But you’re exactly like everyone else. You thought it was okay to get close to me because I look like him too, didn’t you? You wanted some form of control. But here you are, losing it anyway.”

You look at him with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly.

“Eight, I….” Your lip quivers. “Why are you saying this to me?”

Yosuke grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him, wrapping the smooth metal device over your wrists and snapping it shut despite your attempts to pull away.

“How should I know?” Eight shrugs, waving his hand around. “I’m only saying whatever you think I would. Are you stupid?”

He scoffs, almost laughing.

“Now that sounds more like me.”

You try to pry your wrists away but fail to, both enclosed by the long metallic cuff. You look up at Yosuke with terrified eyes as you see him reacting calmly to your struggling, and he quietly wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Yosuke, please…” You beg again, your hands pressing against him as you try to push away. “I’m not in love with you. I don’t even want to be anywhere near you!”

“Of course you do, my pet,” Yosuke smiles, taking your chin in his other hand again. “You said you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“You said you wouldn’t make a big deal about it,” you scowl, trying to shake your head away but failing to. “You promised!”

Yosuke chuckles.

“I lied,” he tells you bluntly, smiling gently and leaning into you with closing eyes.

You shut your eyes as he prepares to kiss you, but before you can feel his lips against yours, you suddenly feel a heaviness in your chest that leaves you unable to breathe. You start to gasp for air as your body feels heavy now, but when you open your eyes, you’re back in your examination room, your wrists strapped to your bed as they were for your first visit. Feeling this horrifies you for some reason, and your heart begins to pound. You’re still unable to process that you’re waking up from a dream, and your mind feels in a frenzy, your thoughts jumbling together chaotically. You pant quickly and heavily as you panic, desperately tugging at your restraints

“Ten, calm down!” You hear Yosuke’s voice from beside you, making your panic even worse as you look at him and see his face again. You look away and continue to tug at your restraints while breathing in and out sharply, but before you can continue flailing around, Yosuke takes your head in his hands and forces his lips on yours, making you stop in your tracks as you look at him with wide eyes.

Your hands begin to tremble as he kisses you again, your body reminded of your previous encounter with him. When you’ve finally settled down, Yosuke pulls away from you, looking you in the eyes warmly but not smiling at you for once.

“W-why did you do that?” Your voice shakes as you ask him. In response, your doctor rubs a thumb over your lips while dropping the other hand from your cheek.

“It’s the only way I know to get you to be quiet,” he answers you bluntly, making you blush. You slowly start to regain your senses as you come to terms with what you’ve just dreamt, trying to assure yourself that it wasn’t real. Your chest rises and falls less sharply now, though you do still take heavy breaths as you lay on your bed which is tilted so that you can sit up just somewhat.

“I almost pricked you the wrong way with how suddenly you woke up,” Yosuke chuckles, picking up a syringe he’d put down beside you somewhere while he went in to calm you down. You look at it with worried eyes as you see him raise it back up and flick it a few times before moving his hand down to lift one portion of the hem of your gown, exposing your thigh. You want to reach over to push him away, but you’re reminded clearly again that you’ve been restrained to your bed.

“What is that?” You question him with a worried tone.

“Only vitamins,” Yosuke tells you reassuringly, squeezing the outside of your thigh between his fingers a few times to relax the area. “We feed you what we can, but for obvious reasons, we can’t let you go outside. So, we have to give you regular injections to keep you healthy. We could give you pills, but we find it better to do it this way.”

You wince as you feel the needle of the syringe pierce your muscle, but your doctor shakes his head.

“Don’t move.”

You do as your he instructs and watch as he slowly pushes the plunger with his thumb and injects whatever liquid is inside the syringe into your body. Within moments, it’s over, and Yosuke pulls the needle out of you easily. The area he poked you in, however, is now fairly sore.

“Was I supposed to be asleep for that?” You question him, but he shakes his head again.

“It doesn’t really matter for these or for anything like immunizations,” he tells you. “The only shot you need to be asleep for goes right into your head.”

Yosuke stands up from his stool and tosses the used syringe into a nearby bin that you can’t see from where you are. He moves toward your head and uses his hand to gently push it to the side, pressing his finger just below your skull and close to your neck. The pressure makes you gasp slightly and sends a shiver down your spine.

“From right here,” he tells you. “It’s easier to do it with you unconscious. If you were to squirm around with that long needle in you, you’d get seriously hurt.”

He moves his hand away and lets you move your head back against the pillow again.

“You’re still not going to tell me what it’s for?” You assume of him. He nods.

“I said what I’m allowed to,” he answers simply. “You can mull it over on your own time if you like.”

You start to think to yourself but suddenly feel a piercing sharp pain in your temples, now realizing that you’ve felt groggy and sluggish since you calmed down from your panic.

“My…head hurts,” you groan. Yosuke chuckles.

“That’s called a hangover, my dear,” he pets your head. “You did drink a lot recently. You didn’t even leave your bed after you passed out. I stayed with you for a very long while, but I eventually had to leave. So, I let you sleep in. It’s already the next day.”

You look away in embarrassment as you remember falling asleep in Yosuke’s arms with both of you completely naked. You hope dearly that he intends to keep his promise about not teasing you about it, but you’re uncertain now as you remember his last words in your dream.

“How long do hangovers last?” You ask him, wincing as another stinging pain comes to your temples.

“They can last all day,” Your doctor informs you. “Some people like to drink more when they have a hangover because it helps alleviate the symptoms, but I personally don’t recommend it. But, some people have a knack for drinking liquor in dangerous ways.”

“You mean Milos,” you mutter, looking away. You feel angry at him now, rather than merely afraid of him. You hope Yosuke makes good on his promise not to let him see you again.

“He is very…eccentric,” Your doctor exhales. “He almost hurt you pretty bad, you know. I’ve threatened you before, but even I wouldn’t be that excessive. I’m sure you saw the bruises on your body, but you haven’t seen yourself in the mirror just yet. There are some rather large red marks on your neck from where he choked you.”

Your heart jumps as you hear this, and you instinctively want to rub your neck. However, you know that you can’t.

“You’re…you’re serious?” You question him hesitantly. He nods.

“Your other bruises will heal, but the neck is very fragile,” Yosuke explains. “You have to know just how to do these things to prevent serious injury. On a quick assessment, Milos seems to have tried not to cause any major damage to you, but he did the act in excess. You’re very lucky to be okay right now, but I’ll still have to keep an eye on you to make sure there aren’t any problems down the road.”

“But I’m expendable, aren’t I?” You question your doctor, remembering Milos’ harsh words to you. Even Yosuke had said once before that you could be replaced. “I’m not meant to last long here. I don’t believe I am. So why does it even matter? Why try to take care of me if you can easily just find someone else to be your toy?”

“Ten, I don’t want you dead,” Yosuke tells you, running his hand through your hair. “You can think ill of me if you like, but believe me when I say I want what’s best for you while you’re mine while still making sure I get what I want out of you. I’m not giving you up anytime soon, my dear. Not if I can help it.”

“Has he done this to anyone else?” You eagerly press your doctor, but you already know the answer is likely yes. You silently hope that Milos isn’t the doctor Five was referring to, but you suspect that he is. No matter how much she thinks she can handle it, a sweet girl like her doesn’t deserve to deal with him. Nobody deserves any of this.

“We’ve had problems with Milos and one other doctor before,” Yosuke answers vaguely. “At least as far as I’ve been here. But the other one is a woman I wouldn’t personally let see you at all, even if she ever wanted to.”

“Why?”

“She gets off on inflicting pain specifically,” Yosuke shakes his head. “Milos at least doesn’t get aggressive most times, but can be, especially when he drinks. I had no idea he’d planned to drink on his first visit with you. I suppose that was my fault for not telling him not to, but I expected him to know better. Evidently, he didn’t.”

“Does alcohol make you that way?” You raise a brow and turn to your doctor with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

Yosuke nods.

“It can. It has a lot of influence on your mood both when you’re drunk and as an adverse side effect of long-term abuse. Alcohol messes with much more than just your inhibitions.”

He almost smirks as he says this, and you know he wants to say something about yesterday. However, he remains quiet, keeping his promise after all and stifling his words. You drop the subject now, growing uncomfortable with being reminded about what happened to you. You also don’t want to give your doctor any reasons to be smug about watching you beg for him even a little. You certainly hope that most of how you reacted was just because you were under the influence of the alcohol, but you feel as though at least some part of it was you.

Suddenly, you focus on the fact that you’re still strapped to the bed, and you look at your doctor with annoyance. He supposes by your expression that you want to ask him why he’s strapped you to begin with.

“Mm, I suppose you don’t need those now. But you were tossing and turning quite a bit in your sleep,” he explains, folding his arms. “I needed to keep you still so that I could look your body over and give you your injections. I’m assuming you had quite a dream since you kept mumbling my name over and over. It was very cute.”

You blush and widen your eyes at this information.

“Should I be flattered or offended by my appearance in your mind, darling?” Yosuke tilts his head, grinning slyly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!” you blurt out, embarrassed, balling your hands. “I-I don’t want to think about it.”

Yosuke remains with a sly smile on his face as he observes your reaction, seeming to contemplate something silently. After a moment, he unfolds his arms and leans over to start undoing the straps around your limbs. You avoid looking at him as he does so, almost blushing more when you feel his skin slide against yours as he undoes each strap. When you’ve been completely freed, you take hold of your wrist in one hand and glide your thumb over it.

You slightly hope that perhaps you dreamt of Yosuke restraining you with the metal cuff only because you were being tied to the bed in your sleep, but you still feel as though there’s some significance to the imagery regardless. You aren’t quite sure what to make of your dream. You’re nowhere near as comprehensive about this sort of thing as someone like Eight might be if he really does read as many academic books as Two said he did, but you’d be hard-pressed to ask him to help you interpret it outright. You already feel like he’s bitter about your last interaction, and pushing it further might make him hate you more than he probably already does.

Thinking of him suddenly makes you remember the words he said to you in your dream, and you grow frustrated at the idea that you’ve been projecting onto him because of Yosuke. You thought what you were doing was just getting to know him. You never once thought it was an attempt at regaining control. You hope that your dream version of Eight isn’t a real reflection of the Eight you actually know, but you no longer have time to think about your slumbering visions as you feel Yosuke scoop you up in his arms again, interrupting your thoughts without giving you a chance to protest. You gasp slightly at the sudden sensation, and once more, you instinctively fling your arms around his neck to avoid falling even though you know you won’t. If he at least took his time picking you up, you might not feel so unsteady.

“You don’t have to carry me like this all the time!” You exclaim, your face turning red again. “I can walk myself.”

“I know, but I like watching you get flustered,” Your doctor chuckles as you look away, embarrassed by his teasing. “You’re like my little princess. It’s endearing.”

“I’m not anything,” you grimace. You suddenly remember Nathaniel and Jonathan, now feeling strange hearing your doctor call you a princess as well. Even Mom had referred to you as one. Thinking of the two young men, though, makes you remember them kissing your cheeks in your dream and ushering you through the garden maze. It makes you feel a little lightheaded to think of it so suddenly, but you try to shake away your thoughts. This is far easier than you expect, given the pounding headache you still have from the hangover.

“Please just take me wherever you’re going to and be done with it,” you tell Yosuke bluntly. “I don’t want to be here right now.”

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to the infirmary and give you pain medicine for your headache. How about that?” Your doctor bargains with a smirk. You exhale slowly, but nod. Right now, the idea of having some relief from your hangover entices you more than the embarrassment of being messed with bothers you.

Hesitantly, you lean on Yosuke’s shoulder and hug him tightly as you let your doctor carry you, cozying up to him like he wants so that you can get what you want. You admit that it’s comforting to feel his warmth, but you still feel guilty doing what he wants you to now that you’re able to think more clearly about it. Nonetheless, you let him hold you and say nothing more as he ferries you out of your examination room and into the hallway.

Chapter 23: Rest Eleven - Comparative

“Open your mouth.”

You wince as you feel the smooth pill press against your tongue. It tastes fairly bitter, and its flavor lingers unpleasantly as you feel it slide around in your mouth. Yosuke gives you a bit of water and lets you gulp a some down so that you can swallow the medicine.

“I could have popped it in myself,” you pout after you’ve taken it, making your doctor laugh.

“It entices me to feed you, my pet,” he responds, and this makes you wince. You wish he’d stop phrasing things so strangely or saying weird things to you, but he seems to like how much it bothers you.

“How long until this works?” You try to ignore his statement.

“Not too long,” Yosuke answers you, putting the bottle of pain pills back into the infirmary cupboard with a slight rattle as its contents clack against the sides of the container. “Not like giving you an exact amount of time does anything when you don’t have the luxury of keeping track of it. Anyways, it might make you nauseous, but it should alleviate, if not eliminate the head pains. The grogginess might linger, though.”

When he’s returned the pills to the cupboard, he turns toward you and cups your cheek in his hand.

“I have to go now, Ten,” he tells you, putting his hand on your shoulder and motioning toward the door with his other hand. “I have a lot of work to catch up on, so I might not see you for a little while. If I can’t come get you for any reason, your mother will. I’ll always be here in the morning, though, so you will still be able to see me if you’re awake.”

“Why Mom? I don’t really like her,” you mutter. “She’s weird to me.”

“She’s here all the time,” Yosuke answers you, nudging your shoulder as if to tell you to turn around. You oblige him, walking slowly toward the door with your doctor following close behind. “She’s usually available to help with these things, but I also do trust her to take care of you both as a woman and as someone who adores you almost as much as I do. If you stay on her good side, she’ll take very good care of you.”

You say nothing more to him after this, frustrated at the idea of Mom being obsessed with you. You’re not sure why she even cares when there are other girls in the facility for her to hover over, unless she does treat everyone this way. You imagine she would like just about anyone with how turned on she always sounds when she talks about literally anything. You wonder just how much energy a woman like her even has to keep up such an attitude.

When you’re completely out of the infirmary, Yosuke puts his hand on your other shoulder and has you face him, then leans in to give your forehead a quick kiss.

“I’ll see you another time, my pet,” he sends you off, dropping his hands and leaving. He knocks on the metal gate a few times with his knuckles, and it soon opens to let him pass. You watch as he rounds the corner, but don’t feel the usual relief that you do when he’s completely gone and the gates shut again. You try to shake your concentration to something else, and instead decide to head to the rec room. Your head still feels awful, so you suppose it would be best to relax in there instead of trying to do any other kind of activity.

As the double doors open up, you are surprised to see a number of bodies in the room already. Blue is laying comfortably along the couch, watching whatever’s on the screen across from her with some, but not full interest. Meanwhile, the red-clothed twins and Violet are sitting on the floor cross-legged with their hands on their knees, silent at first with their eyes closed until Three bursts out into a fit of stifled giggles for reasons you’re unsure of. In front of the three of them is Cyrus, who is facing their direction with his eyes closed and his body in the same position. His hands, however, are conjoined by his fingertips over his lap as his palms are curled in a c-shape, and his thumbs are conjoined at a straight angle. You also notice that of the three before him, Violet is sitting the closest to him, with the now giggling twins sitting just behind her.

“Guys, you have to try to sit still for this,” Cyrus opens one eye. “It’s important that you stay calm and quiet.”

“Sorry!” Three laughs. “He made a face and I thought it was funny.”

You can see Violet’s brows twitch as she restrains herself from responding in frustration, focusing on whatever it is she’s doing.

Cyrus looks over when he hears the doors shut behind you and smiles.

“Hey,” he greets, but immediately drops his smile as he catches sight of your neck. He doesn’t say anything about it, but you can tell he’s worried. You suppose it’s best not to acknowledge your welts around Three, especially since she looks at you with a disturbed face when she also sees you.

“Hi…” You sheepishly respond, rubbing your arm. “What are you guys up to?”

“Meditating,” Cyrus tries to re-focus the mood, smiling again. “I read about it in a book. Supposedly it’s meant to help you maintain a sense of peace and balance your energy.”

“I have no idea what that means,” you raise a brow, but decide to sit down anyway. Violet opens one eye and observes you almost with a frustrated look, so you decide to sit behind her instead of next to her.

“I’m still not really good at understanding stuff like this myself,” Cyrus admits, “But it’s pretty soothing.”

“I think it’s kinda boring,” Two chimes in from behind you. “I guess I don’t get it.”

“Then why are you here?” Violet scoffs condescendingly, still with her eyes closed. You can see that she’s frustrated, but you aren’t sure why. You turn your head slightly then to see Three’s hand being held by her brother’s, and you feel a little guilty for ruining her good mood. But you figure there’s not really much you can do about it now.

“Um…you’re okay, right?” She finally addresses you, and you nod at her with a smile. You know she doesn’t want the nasty details, but you’re happy that she asked. It at least tells you she isn’t upset with you for something out of your control. You can’t say the same for Violet.

“You said you wanted to give it a try,” Cyrus reminds Two with a laugh. “Why not stay a little longer? You can be an example for Ten.”

“Isn’t that why you’re the one leading?” Two lowers a brow. However, he continues to try meditating the way his teacher is doing it, and his sister follows as well, closing her eyes with a smile back on her face.

“So…you just sit here?” You ask Cyrus, assuming the position he has but resting your hands on your knees like the others. “That’s all?”

“Physically, yes,” Cyrus nods. “You also have to empty your mind and try to focus on yourself and your own spiritual energy.”

“How the hell do you do that?” You question him, unable to grasp the concept of not thinking.

“You’re supposed to stay calm and just try to focus on nothing but your body and the world around you,” Violet answers for Cyrus, keeping her eyes closed but lowering her eyebrows in frustration. “It’s not that hard.”

Two and Three suddenly burst out laughing over seemingly nothing, but you don’t even attempt to try to understand whatever unspoken conversation they’re having behind you.

“Okay, so maybe it is for some people,” Violet sighs. “Just don’t do what they’re doing and you’ll be fine. And breathe slowly and deeply or something while you do. I think that’s part of it.”

You follow this instruction and inhale slowly, straightening your back and closing your eyes. You try to focus on the darkness behind them, avoiding any focus on lingering thoughts. You find this to be much more difficult than expected, both because you keep thinking about what has happened to you recently, and because of the twins giggling relentlessly behind you.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of explosions coming loudly from the TV to your right where Blue is, presumably from whatever film she’s watching. Hearing this makes Violet growl with frustration

“Jesus, Four, could you be any louder?!” She yells, opening her eyes and turning toward her in frustration. Unphased by the girl’s outburst, Blue lifts up her arm to reveal a remote in her hand.

“Sure can,” she calls back, pressing a button on the remote to make the TV even louder. Violet groans and turns herself forward again.

“Cyrus, can we just go somewhere else?” She pleads, her tone softening. “It’s really distracting in here.”

She glances at you just briefly.

“And a little crowded.”

“Vi,” Cyrus lowers his voice as if to chide her. “You’re going to have to learn to accept these distractions at some point. You have to learn to deal with them in a way that helps you maintain balance. If you can manage that, then nothing can really bother you. You have to just kind of let things be sometimes or take them as they come.”

Violet sighs, but doesn’t fight him.

“Okay,” she gives in, closing her eyes again. “I’ll try.”

“We’re probably gonna stop anyway,” Two chimes in from behind you, then turns to his sister. “Wanna watch the movie with Blue?”

Three nods, giving a giggle.

“You can join me, but you’re sitting on the floor,” Blue calls out from the couch, having overheard them. “I’m not giving up my spot, no way.”

“That’s fine,” Three agrees to her terms, standing up with her brother. The two twins leave their space behind you to go sit on the floor by the couch where Blue is laying, and you feel a bit tense now that you’re stuck with Violet. You don’t get the impression she’s happy that you’re here.

“Do you wanna scoot up?” Cyrus asks you, his eyes still closed. You say nothing, but decide to move forward so that you’re directly next to Violet. She doesn’t seem to be happy about it, but she doesn’t say anything either. In fact, no more words are said for a while after this, as all three of you attempt to meditate even with the distracting noises of the film from the other part of the room.

You struggle to really clear your head as it fills with questions about your time here. After your encounter with Milos, you’re unsure whether you’re going to last long at this rate. You start to wonder how you’re going to die in the facility since you’re sure that you can’t possibly live forever here. You realize you could have died in several instances, and that you’re lucky you haven’t yet. Thinking of death so casually leads you to a number of questions about what kind of person might replace you when you’re gone, or what happens to Numbers when they die. Do the doctors bury the dead? You remember what a funeral is supposed to look like, though you can’t really remember why.

You dislike having to think about such grim things, but you suppose it’s not unrealistic to come to terms with the fact that you aren’t immortal while you’re here. For some reason, thinking about it now doesn’t make you shudder like it did before, but you aren’t entirely sure why. Cyrus had said it’s better to accept unstoppable things, and you wonder now if he’d also meant death. You wish you could ask him, but you’re afraid of upsetting Violet more by trying to have a conversation with him around her. As much as it annoys you how bitter she can be and is now, you don’t want to cause bad blood with her needlessly. You know she’s fond of Cyrus even if he doesn’t feel the same. You feel bad that she’s yearning for something impossible, and perhaps that’s why you let her be a bit rude to you where you wouldn’t tolerate it from someone like Eight. But you admit it would be nice if you could get along with her like you do the other girls.

You realize, then, that your pounding headache from earlier has finally disappeared as whatever pill Yosuke gave you seems to be working, and you feel immensely relieved to not have so much pressure in your head. You open your eyes for just a moment and look at Cyrus’ face as he concentrates on his meditation. He seems fairly peaceful in his silence, his expression soft and at ease. When you turn your head to face Violet, you notice that even she has managed to calm down, her expression now neutral rather than scrunched up in frustration. You almost feel like you’re intruding on some kind of intimate moment between them since you’re the only one with your eyes open, watching them as they sit before one another.

You continue to meditate with the both of them for a long while, attempting to ignore the sounds of the others from your right and pushing aside your negative thoughts to focus on your breathing. After a long while of sitting with the other two, Cyrus finally shifts around and speaks up.

“We can stop, if you want,” he tells the both of you. “You don’t have to spend all day doing this. Even just a little bit each day can help you out if you want to give it a try on your own sometime.”

Violet exhales and slouches, finally able to relax from maintaining the same position for a while.

“I wish I could feel the same about it like you do,” she pouts. “I always talk to myself in my head or think about something really dumb.”

“I kind of did that too,” you admit with a laugh. “I’m not at a point where I can just let go of things yet.”

Violet looks at you and gives a bit of a half-smile, but doesn’t really respond to your statement.

“It’s perfectly natural to ask questions or think of things when you do it,” Cyrus shrugs, uncrossing his legs so that he can begin standing up. “You’re never going to be able to quite literally empty your mind. Even if you could, I’m pretty sure that takes a long time to practice doing.”

“Who would want to sit there meditating for so long, anyway?” Violet scoffs, following Cyrus’ lead and standing up with him. “It’s relaxing, but I can’t sit there and do nothing forever.”

She then cozies up to Cyrus, grabbing one of his hands with both of hers.

“Anyway, can we go get food or something? I’m actually kinda hungry again.”

“I guess it’s been a while since the last meal call,” Cyrus looks up in thought. “I don’t mind, if they have extra to give us.”

He the moves his head down and looks at you still sitting on the floor, then outstretches his free hand to you.

“Wanna come with?”

Violet seems to dislike this gesture, as she lets his hand go with a slight sigh escaping her lips. You admit you’re a little hungry too—you don’t remember the last time you actually sat down to eat, but it was definitely before meeting Milos. You hope that Yosuke tried to feed you something at some point and that you just couldn’t remember it, because you’re not sure alcohol on an empty stomach would have been a good idea.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” You ask Cyrus, who nods simply. Slowly, you take his hand and let him help you up.

“No dysfunctional legs this time, right?” He laughs lightly. You shake your head with a slight smile.

“No, but my leg does feel a little sore.”

“Let me guess, you had a shot today?” Violet chimes in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. You give her a bit of an mm-hmm noise, which makes her shrug in response.

“I hate shots, honestly,” she tells you. “Needles kind of freak me out. My doctor’s at least nice enough to give me what I need when I’m passed out, but I’ve woken up before getting them several times before.”

She stops for a moment and stares at the ground as if assessing something, but soon drops the topic altogether and instead starts walking past the both of you toward the rec room doors. You and Cyrus both follow, saying your goodbyes to the other numbers before heading out. As you enter the hallway again, something about the lighting change and the clang of the rec room doors behind you makes you feel nauseous, and you stop as you feel a wave of it hit your throat suddenly, making your mouth water. Before the other two can stop to ask if you’re okay, you start to vomit onto the floor, clutching your stomach. After an unpleasant moment of heaving, you’re able to breathe more easily, and you wipe your mouth with your arm to clear it of any residue.

“Woah…are you alright?” Violet questions you, genuinely concerned by how much you’ve thrown up. You nod slowly and try to stand back up, realizing you’d hunched over with a hand pressed against the wall. You look at Cyrus briefly and see that he has an extremely concerned look on his face, more than usual. His mouth is slightly agape, but he remains motionless aside from widening his eyes just slightly. You’re not really sure why he’s reacting so strangely until you remember that he spoke of seeing Jade vomit this way. As soon as it clicks for you, you immediately shake your head and raise your hand at him.

“My doctor gave me a pill for my hangover,” You try to reassure him. “He said it would make me nauseous. Please don’t worry.”

“Hangover…?” Violet lowers a brow. She glances at your neck and pieces together what happened to you immediately. “You saw Milos, didn’t you?”

You look away, but tell her yes. Much to your surprise both Violet and Cyrus wince a little.

“Do you both know him?” You ask. Violet looks as though she wants to respond, but she instead turns away and enters the cafeteria doors without saying anything.

“Those bruises I showed you,” Cyrus holds his head. “Those were from him.”

You widen your eyes, opening your mouth to say something but not knowing what to.

“He doesn’t usually hit people unless he’s drunk or angry,” Cyrus continues, looking away. “If you do what he says, he’s okay. But he has a bit of a temper sometimes. He needs more than just sex when he’s worked up, and when he is, he usually sees me because he knows I can take it. He won’t hurt the girls he sees like he hurts me, even though he has choked a few of them before. But it still fucks with them when he does. Five’s the only one who can genuinely handle him better than the other girls can. That’s likely why they gave her to him.”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” You put a hand to your mouth. You also feel your heart drop as your suspicions are confirmed that Milos is Five’s doctor. “Yosuke told me he’s not even the worst one here.”

“He isn’t,” Cyrus tells you. “Like I told you before, sometimes it’s bad, sometimes it’s not. On good days, he just bruises people up only a little bit. He’s a shitty doctor because he has anger problems and tends to underestimate how strong he actually is. He can lift us up and toss us around like we’re weightless. But there are times where he actually tries not to hurt people. He’s only dangerous because he’s reckless, and I know for a fact he’s only reckless because he’s here and he can get away with it. He thinks less of us and forgets to treat us carefully because he thinks we’re expendable, but he hasn’t done anything so drastic to really warrant being punished by his boss.”

He looks down.

“The other doctor like him is dangerous because she’s she likes to hurt people to get herself off. She doesn’t look like she’s dangerous, in fact she’s even frailer looking than Mom. But she’s obsessed with torture.”

“The doctor’s couldn’t possibly allow her to get that carried away though, right…?” You ask him with fear in your eyes. Cyrus shakes his head.

“They’re more careful now than with my previous group,” he says, gazing at your bruised neck. “You guys are a little luckier than the others, even though you might not think it with whatever you might have gone through with Milos. The more dangerous doctors here still have to try to be careful with us, so they do. I—”

He stops and tries to correct himself.

“—We haven’t lost anyone in a long while because of how much things have changed since the last group.”

Cyrus puts his hands on each of your shoulders, noticing that you’re shaking now where you’re standing.

“It’s scary,” he admits, giving you a look of sympathy. “It’s extremely scary. But that’s why it’s absolutely imperative to find a way to cope. I don’t want you to end up in a mental pitfall like Jade did. I don’t want anyone to feel that way again.”

He gazes into your eyes with uncertainty as silence falls between you now. However, he is unable to say much else when the sudden sound of heels clacking against the floor starts to approach from around the corner, faintly at first, but growing louder. Immediately, he drops his hands and turns toward the gate down the hall only to see his doctor rounding the corner with a few fat binders full of random documents clutched in her arm. She notices the both of you right away, but ignores Cyrus to look at you with a wide smile.

“Ten! I’m so happy to see you again!” she greets with a cheery voice. “Mommy still misses you very much.”

She then notices the vomit on the floor beside you and frowns.

“Yosuke told me what happened. You poor dear,” she shakes her head. “I hope you’ll feel better soon. And I’ll have someone come clean that after you all leave for the day, don’t worry!”

Mom then turns her attention to Cyrus, tilting her head.

“You’ll take good care of my little princess like you do the others, won’t you, One?” She grins. Cyrus turns toward her and nods.

“Of course, Mom,” he forces a smile for her, making her giggle.

“Good boy,” she praises him, walking away and back into her office with the binders. Cyrus exhales, scratching at the back of his head.

“Why does she pick on me so much?” You ask him. “She’s only ever visited me once.”

You avoid bringing up her reaction to Cyrus or his reaction to her so that he doesn’t feel uncomfortable about it. He seemed to respond to her so naturally and with less force than Eight had before. You are still able to tell he strained himself just trying to comply, but you know he didn’t have much of a choice. You almost find comfort in seeing him react the way you do to being forced into compliance.

Cyrus then looks at you and shrugs one shoulder slightly.

“She does that to all the new meat that suits her tastes,” he answers you honestly. “She never really stops being weird, but she’ll eventually let up with time if someone new comes along or she gets bored. She hasn’t actually had someone to fuss over in a while. She did with Eight when he first came, but was pretty displeased with Nine. With girls, she’s always liked softer ones. She really likes Three for that reason.”

You remember Three reacting negatively in the crafts room a while back when she heard Mom’s voice. You wonder just what Mom’s done to her to petrify her so much, but suppose she’s also just sensitive in general. For as uncomfortable as Mom made you, you seem to have held up okay with time in comparison.

“Hey, let’s go back to Violet or something,” Cyrus interrupts your thoughts, trying to change the subject. “We’ve left her hanging for a lot longer than I thought we would.”

Agreeing, you follow him into the cafeteria and find Violet at a table by herself, facing you and surrounded by three separate meals. You look at her in surprise, but she speaks before you have a chance to ask.

“I got you food and water already,” she says. “Something different than us for your sensitive stomach right now. I figured you needed a minute to catch your breath or something, so…yeah.”

You look at the dishes and notice that two are some kind of chicken and vegetable dish dressed up with various spices and garnishes, while the third is just a bowl of soup of some kind, though you’re not sure what’s in it.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” you tell her, looking in her direction. She doesn’t seem to be reciprocating your glance, but she knows you’re looking at her. “…Thank you, Violet. It means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She shrugs you off, stuffing a forkful of greens in her mouth. Both you and Cyrus sit down, with you taking your place before her and him sitting beside Violet. You chug a bit of water to wash the taste of vomit out of your mouth, then take a spoonful of your soup and smell it, noting a light aroma but one fairly savory. Whatever it is, you’re now able to see that it doesn’t have anything but a few finely chopped vegetables. Despite the unimpressive appearance, the dish tastes absolutely delectable when you put it to your lips and let it slip into your mouth from your spoon. It’s not too overpowering a flavor, but it’s subtle and earthy, spiced up just enough to enhance the natural flavors of whatever vegetables are in the bowl.

You end up consuming it fairly quickly, realizing how hungry you were and feeling satiated now. As you finish up, you notice that Violet and Cyrus have remained in silence this whole time, and you wonder if Violet is refraining from speaking up because you’re around. Instead of bearing the silence longer, you try to be more friendly.

“What do you like to do around here, Violet?” You ask the girl, dropping your spoon in whatever bit of broth is left in your bowl. “Other than play games I guess.”

“You’re asking me?” She blinks at you in surprise. You nod with a smile, making her blush.

“Honestly, I really like food,” she looks up, making eye contact with you. She has a more energetic expression on her face, you notice. “I’m always hungry and I don’t really gain weight easily, so I’m usually here if I’m not doing other stuff. After scheduled meals, they sometimes have extra leftovers, so I’ll come back for more if I can.”

When Violet takes a brief pause to breathe, you open your mouth as if to respond, but you don’t get the chance to as she keeps talking.

“They tend to leave some food aside for Numbers who show up late, but not everyone eats their share. I also sometimes like to bring snacks to the arcade if the guy working here lets me have them. They usually don’t let us eat junk food because it’s bad for us, but sometimes I get lucky and they let me have it.”

She puts another forkful of greens in her mouth, chewing it for a moment. You decide not to try responding this time and let her swallow her food so that she can continue to talk.

“I also really like going swimming,” she adds. “I sometimes see some of the other Numbers in the pool and we’ll kind of hang around a little, or I’ll just do laps by myself. It’s actually a really good stress reliever. I’m not super great at swimming or anything, but it is fun. Not everyone knows how to swim, so if they’re ever around there, they usually just dip their feet or sit in the shallow areas.”

She laughs.

“Six told me yesterday that you fell flat on your face in the water, y’know.”

“Oh…” you blush, embarrassed. “I hadn’t thought she’d say anything. It was sort of an accident.”

“We were kind of surprised you didn’t show up all day, actually,” Cyrus finally speaks up, tossing a few greens around on his plate but not really eating any of it anymore. “Even on our days off, we’re brought here. We were worried that you disappeared or something.”

“You mean you were worried,” Violet mutters, suddenly losing her enthusiasm. He glances over at her, but doesn’t really seem angry or displeased by her accusation.

“Vi, you know how it is here,” he warns her. “We have to look out for each other. I’d worry about you too if you suddenly stopped showing up. You know that.”

“I guess,” Violet shoves one last bite of food in her mouth, chewing it while she stands and grabs her now-empty plate. She says nothing more before she leaves her seat and brings her empty dish to the counter. Though she does all this quietly with a calm expression on her face, you’re able to tell she’s become extremely upset. When she has no more business being in the cafeteria, she walks toward the doors and promptly leaves, not even turning to look at either of you.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask Cyrus who shakes his head.

“No, she’s just sort of like that,” he exhales slowly, continuing to prod the uneaten food on his plate. “I can’t really do much about it, but it won’t last forever. She’ll eventually get used to you. She was like this with Nine when she first came until it became clear that she wasn’t gonna hang around all the time. Now Violet’s just doing the same song and dance with you.”

“Cyrus…” you sigh. “I don’t like that she’s doing it at all, whether with me or anyone else down the line. You’re going to have to tell her at some point that you don’t like her the way she wants you to.”

“I don’t want to break her heart,” Cyrus looks down. “Besides, I think she already kind of knows, but just doesn’t want to believe it. She’s so desperate to cling to something positive in her life that she won’t really accept the reality that the thing she’s hoping for the most is just…not there. I love Violet, I really do. She’s a handful sometimes, but even if I don’t like it, I’d rather deal with it to help her feel happy.”

He looks at you with his bright blue eyes and lowers his eyebrows.

“You know why I want to make things work so much. I’ve told you why. Right now, I’m just trying to keep everyone together. I don’t want to cause drama if I don’t have to.”

“She’s going to get hurt either way,” you respond straightforwardly. “You can still patch things up with her over time after letting her know how you feel, one-on-one, but if you let her continue to be this way and she sees you get close to girls even as a friend, she’s going to misinterpret your kindness as attraction for them and just hurt herself over it. I really haven’t talked to her a lot, but every time I do, she’s been so bitter. The way she started going on just a little while ago was probably the most enthusiastic I’ve seen her be. I don’t want her to be bitter, and I can tell she doesn’t want to be either since she at least tries to be nice sometimes. I’m sure she cares and just struggles to show it.”

You give a bit of a half-smile to reassure him.

“Five and Six told me that a relationship is work,” you recount your previous conversation with the couple, “That it has hardships and trials. But I think that applies to all sorts of relationships, even friendships. If she really cares about you, she’ll work with you to try to maintain whatever relationship you guys do have.”

“I never really go to those two for relationship advice,” Cyrus chuckles slightly. “I never thought I needed to.”

“Just because they’re not the same sex as you doesn’t mean they can’t help,” you tease him. “Anyway, at least think about it, okay?”

Cyrus nods, but doesn’t say much else. He stands up and grabs his plate, but stops for a moment.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay,” he tells you. “Are you…going to be okay?”

“Me?” You blink at him, almost blushing at his worry for you. “I think so.”

You touch your hand to your neck, looking down.

“I’m a little shaken from what’s happened recently,” you admit. “…but as long as I’m here, I feel okay.”

Cyrus looks at you a moment, but doesn’t know what else to say. He eventually moves on to leave his dish by the counter and gives you a bit of a wave before heading out the cafeteria doors. You feel somewhat crestfallen now that you’ve been left alone, but decide to go to the library again to take your mind off of things. You don’t see Eight this time, almost to your disappointment. However, you decide to try picking up another book of a different genre than the one you read before. For the rest of the day, you read a horror story about a lonely older man coming to grips with his lifelong fears as he’s stalked relentlessly by a monster that turns out to be a manifestation of such fears. You almost wonder if you and everyone else are like the man in the story, running from something that they’re so afraid of and needing to confront it in order to come to grips with it. You suppose that it’s a little too real, so you decide to put the book away. Maybe horror isn’t your thing after all. Being in the facility is, in itself, a horrible thing.

As the day ends, you’re escorted by your doctor to your bedroom. Though he’d said he would be busy, you’re a little glad that he returned to take you himself. You would rather not have to deal with Mom doing it herself, though you’re sure she may eventually have to. You and your doctor exchange few words with one another as he says his goodbyes, kissing your cheek and locking you in your bedroom yet again so that you can rest.

Chapter 24: Visit Eleven - Dessert

“Wake up, pretty one.”

You feel a hand glide down your cheek as you slowly come to, recovering from your slumber. You remember having fallen asleep in your bed after the day ended yesterday, but feel so groggy right now that you can only assume you were drugged and brought here.

As your eyes flutter open, you’re surprised to see Jude standing over your body to the right of your bed, which is now set flat this time. Seeing him again makes your heart skip a beat, and your chest tight. You haven’t seen him or Sven since your first encounter that wasn’t with your doctor, and you fear what he intends to do with you even though you’ve grown to expect being treated in strange ways by now.

You shift your arms around, noticing that they’ve been raised above you, and feel a tight, thick rope over your wrists that is tied to the bed frame at the head of it. It’s not directly attached, but rather connected by a loop around the bar so that you are still able to move your conjoined wrists around just slightly. You look down then to notice that your body is completely naked, and you press your knees together in response to this realization.

“It’s been a while, girl,” Jude chuckles, still petting your cheek but eventually withdrawing his hand. “Have you been good to the other doctors?”

You scowl, but don’t want to answer him.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty one?” He smirks at you, grabbing your chin and rubbing your lips with his thumb. “That’s too bad. But you shouldn’t be talking anyway. We’d rather hear you moan.”

You widen your eyes as you hear “we” escape from his lips, and as if on cue, Sven steps toward the right of your bed from behind it. You tilt your head up as he approaches you, noting that he’s removed his grey blazer and rolled his white sleeves up. You gaze at him half with anger, half with unease, but he ignores your reaction to him. Curiously, he has a banana in his hand and has begun to slowly peel it, but he doesn’t do much else other than look at you with a silent grin.

“God damn, it feels good to see you again,” Sven half-laughs. “I’ve been hearing some interesting shit about you.”

“Seems like the others liked you, hmm?” Jude adds, forcing his thumb between your lips now. “You’re really something. We’ve been waiting for a chance to see you again.”

You shift your eyes to the side, away from where Sven is standing. You don’t want to have to face either of them, but make no attempts to struggle as Jude plays with your tongue using only his thumb. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction of a reaction right now.

As you shift your eyes, you notice that there’s a fairly small cart beside your bed, just behind Jude, with two clear, unmarked containers on it that have long-tipped tops. Whatever’s in these bottles looks like it might be edible, and you can only assume that it is with the banana in Sven’s hands. Each bottle has a dark syrupy substance in it, but you’re unsure what that substance is. There’s a third container, but it looks to be some kind of aerosol can with a long white tip.

Before you have the chance to think on what the men are planning to do to you, Jude moves his fingers against one side of your chin and his thumb over the other, pulling it out of your mouth to move it there. Sven, meanwhile, moves in with the now-peeled banana and rubs it against your lips.

“Open up, girl,” he commands playfully with a sly grin. When he sees that you hesitate to do as he commands, he laughs deeply.

“It’s only fruit,” he reminds you. “It won’t kill you. Take it.”

He continues to rub the tip of the banana against your lips for just a moment before Jude starts pressing against both sides of your mouth to get it open. You turn your attention to him again but immediately feel the peeled banana being shoved into your mouth, tasting a strong sweetness against your tongue as it’s buried deeper into you. Sven stops just as he reaches your throat, letting the rest of the fruit hang over your lips.

“Now don’t bite it, sweetheart,” Sven teases you, tossing the peel somewhere on the tray across from him. “If I see any bite marks on that thing after this, I’m substituting it with my cock. Got it?”

You blush, but nod slowly. Jude eventually lets your chin go and moves to grab both bottles with syrupy substances in it, passing one to Sven who moves slightly lower down your bed but stops when he reaches your legs. He moves to hover over your stomach, dripping the contents of his bottle over your body. It’s strangely warm, you find, and can only assume it’s been heated recently. The way it drips along your skin feels dirty, but the warmth is comforting, if fairly sensuous. You shuffle around a bit as you feel it drip over your stomach, then your breasts as Sven moves the bottle up toward and over your chest. Eventually, you’ve been covered with trails of the dark substance, which you now presume to be chocolate syrup given how sweet it smells.

Grinning, Sven seems satisfied with his work and hands the bottle back to his partner who puts it aside. On Jude’s end, he brushes your hair back with one hand and forces your head to the side, dripping chocolate on your cheek and neck while smiling eagerly.

Sven moves in toward your stomach, pressing his hands against the bed, and begins to lap up the chocolate from your skin. The wetness of his tongue on your body makes you gasp, but you try your best to keep your jaw stationary to avoid marking the banana in your mouth with your teeth. You feel strange having it there, but admit you’d much rather be tasting fruit than cum.

When you give off a light moan at the feeling of being licked up, Jude takes his turn and slowly begins to lick your cheek of the syrup, moaning slowly in your ear to try turning you on. You wriggle in your bonds just slightly, your face becoming more flushed with each lap and lick of your skin.

Sven gives a chuckle as he feels you struggling despite you not having wanted to, and he presses his lips against your stomach hard to suck at it eagerly, pulling back and repeating the motion over different spots on your abdomen. Jude, meanwhile, moves in toward your neck and begins to suck and nip at it, gripping your scalp as he does so to keep your head in place.

The scent of chocolate invades your nose even more strongly now as the men move around your body. You can’t help but moan as you feel them touching and sucking on your skin, and you feel saliva beginning to pool around your cheek and slowly drip out of your mouth, making the banana slippery. You try to hold it in place with your lips, not wanting the men to force it deeper into your throat should they see it fall out.

“Does It feel good, pretty one?” Jude pauses his sucking to breathe heavily on your neck, chuckling at your blushing face. “You want more?”

You avoid making eye contact with him, not wanting to let him read your expression. He still takes this as an indication to pour more syrup on your body, so he does so eagerly and more strongly attacks your neck with his lips and tongue, licking you up faster with short, strong strokes. Sven follows his partner’s lead, but moves instead to your chest and begins to lick at the nipple of your left breast eagerly, flicking it with his tongue and lapping up the chocolate over it. This makes you moan louder, much to your dismay and much to their pleasure. Both men laugh at you, but continue to force their mouths onto you hungrily.

“You want us to stop?” Sven teases you as you shiver and writhe, breathily lapping at your skin while rubbing your thigh. “That’s too bad. We’re just getting started.”

He moves his fingers toward your crotch and rubs your slit, laughing as he feels it.

“Wet already?” He cocks a brow, glancing at you while Jude continues to lick your neck with breathy groans. “What a slut.”

You wince, as you feel him enter your pussy with his fingers, embarrassed and insulted by his words but helpless to his forced touching. You wriggle your wrists around more as if in protest, but he speeds up his pace while continuing to suck your tits up eagerly. Jude pours chocolate over your face, beginning to lick your forehead and your cheeks again in succession. Feeling him so close to you makes you feel wetter, much to Sven’s delight as he continues to work you with his fingers. You find yourself letting out more and more moans, sharply inhaling through your nose as Sven fingers you, Eventually, you find yourself squirting out without meaning to, feeling overcome by pleasure and yelling muffledly as you come. Sven gives a loud laugh as you do, amused by your reaction.

“Just about anything will make you come, huh?” He teases you, pulling away from your body. “Poor little slut.”

Jude eventually follows his partner’s lead and finally pulls away, smirking as he gazes upon your flushed, chocolate-covered face. He slowly reaches over to grab the banana and tugs it out of your mouth, letting a string of saliva trail from your lips as he pulls the fruit away. He glances at the thing in his hand, slightly lumpy now from being broken down by your tongue and saliva, and frowns.

“Well that’s not good, is it?” He remarks, glancing at his partner. “Sven, she’s gone and bitten it.”

He takes a bite out of the saliva-covered fruit, much to your disgust. He slyly smiles at you while he does it, continuing to eat the thing until it is no more.

“Too bad,” Sven smirks, standing up and moving his hands to unbuckle his pants. “I thought she’d be more careful.”

You blush as you watch him unsheathe his cock, but have no time to look at it before Jude grabs you and turns you around so that you’re lying on your stomach. You feel your breasts pressing against the fabric of your bed, dampening it since you’re still covered in saliva and leftover chocolate residue. You feel sticky and gross now, but know you can’t do much about it.

Sven moves to the head of your bed and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You end up having to lean on your arms, bending them and pressing your elbows into the bed just so that your neck isn’t strained by your head being forced up.

“Be a good girl and open your mouth for me this time,” He commands you. “You have to be punished for disobeying me. So fucking take it.”

You scowl at him, and wearily let let slip out,

“Fuck you.”

You’re unsure where this is coming from, since you had never said it before, nor had the courage to. Sven luckily doesn’t take this too harshly, in fact liking this bite of yours. Instead of hurting you, he laughs at your remark, tightening his grip on your chin.

“You’re going to,” he smirks. Just then, you feel Jude dribble more chocolate all over your back, and he moves in suddenly to lap at your nape and down your spine. This makes you shudder and gasp, and Sven takes advantage of his opening and shoves his cock into your throat, hard. You choke as he does it, letting out a few throated gags as you feel the tip of his cock press deep into you.

“Now there’s a good little whore,” Sven chuckles, moving his hand to your scalp and gripping it firmly. “You bit that banana on purpose just to get a taste of my cock, didn’t you? You want your mouth to be raped, don’t you?”

You groan as you try to breathe while Sven’s dick thrusts into your throat. You feel your neck straining to keep your position as he bucks against you, but try to force yourself to stay up and avoid getting into trouble by accidentally hurting him. You try to moan in protest, but Sven continues to thrust without stopping, a twisted expression plastered on his face. As Sven fucks your mouth, Jude continues to suck and lick your back, occasionally giving a few rubs of your outer thighs and groaning breathily as he does so. After a while, Sven’s cock begins to throb just slightly, and he grips your hair even tighter while pumping deeper into your throat, enough for your lips to meet the skin at his crotch.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come!” he grunts. “Take it all down, baby!”

He pumps a few more times before finally ejaculating into your mouth, releasing a load of semen everywhere and shoving himself deeper into you to force you to drink it all up. You feel your arms burning in pain as you’ve kept your position for so long, but you know you won’t be able to lay down to rest until you’ve finished swallowing all of Sven’s cum. You hesitantly gulp it down, and he eventually pulls out of your mouth, slowly sliding his cock against your tongue as he does so. You eventually collapse face down on your bed, your arms too tired to support you anymore for right now.

“And when am I going to get a turn, huh?” Jude finally speaks up, pulling away from his licking. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”

Sven laughs.

“You want her to suck you off?” he asks his associate. “I can make her, no problem.”

You blush hearing them talk about you, still gasping as you recover from being throatfucked.

“Turn her around for me and lift up the bed a bit. I’ll take her that way,” Jude answers Sven, unbuckling his belt. You feel Sven move you over on your back again, before promptly moving the bed to a familiar tilted position so that you’re sitting up a little. Jude gets on top of the bed and straddles your chest with his knees pressed against the mattress on either side of you. He grips the bar of the bedframe with one hand to steady himself while reaching the other over to the small cart to your right and grabbing the aerosol can.

“Maybe I ought to give her something nice to taste,” Jude chuckles, then calls out to his partner. “Sven, you wanna suck on her cute little pussy in the meantime?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” Sven chuckles, moving toward your legs and giving your outer thighs a rub with both hands. “Look at our little slut, she wants it already with how wet she is.”

You look away from him, wincing as he berates you again. Jude then sprays the contents of the aerosol can, which you now realize is whipped cream, along the top of his hard cock. He looks at you with a smirk as you blush, but gives you no chance to protest before he puts his phallus in your face. He wriggles his tip around your mouth, but seems unsatisfied with your non-compliance.

“Sven, a little help here?” He calls to his partner, who laughs in response.

“Sure thing.”

Sven raises one hand up and smacks it hard against your thigh, but you try to keep your mouth closed, giving a throated, painful moan while gritting your teeth.

“Now now, pretty one,” Jude frowns slightly. “You’ll have to open it sometime. Hit her again, Sven.”

Sven does as told and smacks you again, harder this time. You are unable to hold yourself back and end up yelling in pain at the sensation, leaving your mouth open for Jude to shove his way into you. Your breathing is again hindered, so you inhale heavily through your nose as the taste of cream and musky flesh coats your tongue. As Jude pushes his was into your throat, some of the whipped cream builds up on your top lip and falls down toward your bottom lip.

“God, your mouth feels so fucking good,” Jude breathes, putting the can down and gripping the bar with his other hand, beside the first. He begins to thrust his hips as he pushes his cock in and out of your mouth, coating your throat with precum and cream. Meanwhile, Sven begins to grab your thighs and push them up, spreading your legs to expose your wet pussy. He says nothing, but gives a devilish chuckle as he moves in to lick and suck your labia, tonguing your clit forcefully for a little bit before moving his warm, wet tongue into your pussy. He presses his nose against your clit, occasionally shaking his head around to stimulate it.

You moan into Jude’s cock as you feel yourself being eaten out helplessly, and you continue to instinctively try pulling your wrists apart and wriggle desperately around.

“Taste good?” Jude breathily asks you between his grunting thrusts. “You really like having your mouth fucked, don’t you?”

You try to groan in protest, but end up moaning loudly as Sven shoves his tongue even deeper into you, curling it in your pussy eagerly and making you more and more wet. After a while of being stimulated by his tongue and Jude’s cock, you begin to feel like you’re going to come. You ball your hands as you feel yourself starting to buck in response to the pleasure, riding Sven’s face while Jude continues to fuck your throat.

“I’m almost there,” he groans, thrusting more quickly into you. Sven also picks up his pace, flicking his tongue around more and using his fingers over your clit now to get you off. You eventually give into the pleasure and let out a muffled, throated yell as you come into Sven’s face, squirting slightly as you do. Following soon Is Jude, who forcefully spurts his creamy load into your mouth. With the whipped cream still lingering on your lips and tongue, his cum tastes somewhat sweeter than you know it actually does, and it’s much easier for you to take it as he continues to let his semen flow into your throat. He gives a few more slow thrusts as he finishes, letting out a loud and pleasured groan as he comes. Jude eventually settles, slowly removing his cock from your mouth and letting you breathe again. As Sven pulls away from your pussy, Jude moves down the bed so that he can kiss you, lapping up the leftover cream around your lips.

“You really know how to take a cock in your mouth,” he pulls away, grinning. After he’s finished, he gets off of the bed and moves toward the head of it to undo your rope bonds. You look up at him in confusion as your hands are freed, unsure if this means they’re done with you or not. However, you’re assured otherwise when Sven speaks up.

“Get up for a minute, girl,” he commands you with a curling finger. “Let him sit there.”

Confused, but knowing you will have to comply, you do as told and push off the side of the bed to stand up. You almost end up toppling over with how weak your knees are now, but Sven catches you and moves your hips closer to him, pressing his still-hard dick against you as you look away in embarrassment.

From behind you, Jude sits on the side of the bed and stretches his arms out, grabbing you and peeling your body from Sven. He takes hold your hips and gently lifts you onto his lap, his fingers feeling strong against your skin. Once you’ve been positioned on him, he wraps his arms around you and lets Sven lean forward to spread your legs.

“What are you-“ You try to question them in surprise, but are suddenly taken aback by Jude slapping a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You begin to feel your body sliding off of him with how slippery you are from being covered in chocolate and saliva, so you grab each of Jude’s forearms to try to keep yourself steady. You shake your head as if in protest to being muffled, but Jude ignores your struggling and gives your cheek a lick.

“She still tastes so sweet,” he teases, grinning. Sven smirks in response, but remains focused on your spread pussy.

“Hand me that can,” he asks his partner, nodding his head in the direction of the cart. Complying, Jude reaches over from behind him to try grabbing the whipped cream, then hands it to Sven who uses it to spray cream along your inner thighs. Satisfied with his decoration of them, he tosses the can back onto the bed and continues to grip underneath your thighs, raising your legs slightly so that your calves and feet are dangling. Eagerly, he leans in to suck your thighs of the cream, making you moan and squirm. Being in this position is strange, but you’re receptive to his touch even so.

“Don’t struggle,” Jude commands you, moving in to lick your neck. “You’re gonna take him like a good girl, alright?”

You feel his grip on your mouth tighten as you are forced to endure Sven’s licking. You feel yourself growing more and more excited despite not wanting to. Eventually, Sven finishes cleaning up the cream and pulls away, his cock still extremely hard and ready to rape you. Without any more words, he gleefully presses his way inside of you, making you wail as you feel him force his way in. You throw your head back at the sensation, leaning more against Jude as Sven slowly begins to pump his cock into you, thrusting his hips with a hungry look on his face.

“You like that, huh?” He grins, giving a hard thrust that makes his crotch slap wetly against yours and causes you to whimper. “You want me to rape you harder?”

You tighten your grip around Jude’s wrists as you hear this, widening your eyes as Sven begins to thrust faster into you. He laughs as you squirm at his powerful pumps, gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you steady.

“That’s right, little slut,” he pants. “You’re gonna take it all.”

Jude meanwhile continues to lick and suck at your neck, moaning deeply as he does so. You can feel the stubble on his chin brush against you with each movement, making you shiver. You feel yourself unable to fight anymore as you’re pumped into quickly and strongly. Nothing but heavy pants, wet slaps, and your whimpering fills the room now. You cry into Jude’s hand with each thrust, but this only makes Sven pump harder into you. He refuses to take his hazel eyes off you as he fucks you, and you do everything you can to avoid looking at him.

After a while of thrusting, he tightens his grip on your thighs and grits his teeth.

“Fuck, fuck…” he pants, slamming himself against you more and more until he can’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna…”

Without finishing his statement, he gives a loud grunt as he comes inside of you, thrusting more slowly as he ejaculates into your cunt. He gives a throated laugh as he comes, watching you as your body helplessly takes his seed. You widen your eyes as you’re ridden, feeling yourself coming as well and yelping into Jude’s hand, tightening your grip on his wrists even more as you finally orgasm with Sven. The both of you buck against each other for a while before your climaxes end, and once it’s over, Sven pulls out of you and drops your legs.

“Let her go,” Sven tells Jude, who promptly does as asked and lets you fall weakly to the floor. You press your palms on the ground beneath you and try to pull yourself up, but Jude stops you as he slides off the bed and gets on the floor with you. He wraps his arm around your chest to keep you from pulling away, then turns you over. Before you can fight back, he straddles your hips and pins your wrists down hard.

“You’re really just gonna fuck her on the floor?” Sven laughs in amusement while pulling his pants up and rebuckling his belt.

“Watching her come made me want some,” Jude chuckles, fighting to keep you in place as you try to break free. “Give me the cream, why don’t you?”

“You sick bastard,” Sven cackles, grabbing the can from the bed and tossing it to him. “You’re almost as bad as she is.”

You try to cry in protest, but Jude covers your mouth again, looking at you with his blue eyes and smiling wide.

“C’mon, you know you want it.”

He looks up at Sven then.

“Hold her, won’t you?”

Sven chuckles, moving down toward the floor and kneeling above you. He grabs both your wrists and raises them above your head, looking at you with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Honestly, what do I keep you around for?” Jude scoffs at Sven’s slow pace, spreading whipped cream all over your breasts casually while you struggle against your assailants. Jude laughs devilishly as he gazes upon your cream-covered chest, dropping the can on the floor and leaning in to lap up the soft white substance from your skin. You gasp as you feel his tongue and lips against your breasts, shaking your arms wildly and balling your hands, but feeling Sven’s hands tighten their grip around your wrists. He tugs your arms to keep them in place and chuckles.

“C’mon, baby, don’t struggle,” he breathes in your face, still grinning devilishly. “Don’t you like having your pretty little tits get licked? You sure did when I sucked them up.”

You moan in protest at his question, unable to form words with Jude’s hand still clamped against your mouth. He continues to suck at your breasts a little more forcefully now, nibbling at your skin with every mouthful. After a while of running his tongue around your nipples and forcefully sucking each side of your chest, he pulls back and pants, his face flushed and his eyes hungry. He then releases his grip on your mouth and places his hands on each inner thigh to spread you open, his cock still wet with your saliva and his cum from earlier. He presses his dick against your slit and thrusts just slightly so that you’re forced to feel it slide forward and backward over you, his tip brushing against and massaging your clit with each movement

“Do you want it, pretty one?” He teases with a low, sly voice, smirking at you as he thrusts against your body. You gasp as you feel your vulva being stimulated by his member, whimpering with each sliding thrust.

“Stop it…” you wince, shutting your eyes. Jude merely chortles slightly at your attempt to control the situation, then moves his cock toward your labia and wiggles his way through. When he has reached your vagina, he gives a gentle but deep chuckle and pushes into you hard, even moreso than Sven had, making you gasp and your eyes open wide.

“Don’t talk back to me ,” he warns you, moving back to thrust into you sharply again. “You’re in no position to stop me.”

He begins to pump more rhythmically into you, pressing hard on purpose to get a reaction from you. You yelp with each thrust, feeling that he’s going in too sharply for you. When he feels that he’s loosened you up just enough, he begins to quicken his pace more, laughing as he hears you cry and wail at his forceful pumps. For some reason, you feel your heart pulsing faster as you feel him forcing himself into you so hard. Even though his cock doesn’t hurt, the sensation of being slammed against so furiously reminds you of your visit with Milos, and you begin to feel yourself panicking.

“N…no, please!” You cry, shaking your head. “Please stop it! I don’t want this!”

Sven laughs at you.

“Look at her, she’s going crazy!” he calls to his partner with amusement. “You think Simanek got a hold of her?”

“With those bruises on her neck, most definitely,” Jude pants, smiling wide. He drops one hand from your thigh and forces your chin up so that you’re looking at him. “Focus on my face, pretty one. I’m the one fucking you now.”

He thrusts sharply into you more and more, keeping your chin pointed toward him and watching gleefully as you shut your eyes again in an attempt to regain yourself. Eventually, you feel nothing but pleasure in your lower body as you’re taken against your will, and Jude lets out more and more pants and grunts until he finally feels himself on the verge of climaxing. You feel yourself letting go as well, and soon your cries turn into moans as you’re forcibly ridden with short, aggressive strides. You grow more flustered and warm as your body gives into Jude’s cock, bucking your hips against him and loosening your balled fists in response to his sex pumping into you dominantly. He drops your chin and slaps his hand on the floor by your shoulder, pressing his fingers into the white, shiny surface as he concentrates on fucking you while still holding one of your legs open with his other hand. After a few more thrusts, both you and Jude finally climax, with you giving a loud wail and shivering heavily as your body exerts the last of its energy in coming. Jude spurts his seed deep into your cunt, letting out a powerful, loud grunt as he comes as well.

“God…damn!” He groans between thrusts, still pumping into you slowly as he dribbles his creamy juices into your pussy. “Fuck!”

He continues to grind against you until he has no more cum to give, leaning instead toward your head and forcing his now sweet-tasting lips against yours to quiet you.

“Stop crying,” he commands you between his hard kisses, lightly humping you as you finish your climax as well. “You’re already full of our cum. You can’t do anything about it now.”

You feel Sven finally release your wrists and let your hands drop to the floor, your body now feeling limp after being pounded into.

“C’mon, Jude,” Sven calls out to his partner. “We don’t wanna overstay our welcome.”

“Right,” your assailant agrees, pulling out of you slowly. Sven tosses him a towel to clean off his cock, which he does briefly before leaving the cloth by your body. Jude then pulls up his pants, zipping them up and rebuckling his belt. Before he gets up, he runs a finger down your stomach, collecting a bit of leftover chocolate residue. He watches your defeated face pleasurably as he sucks the chocolate off of his finger.

“You were absolutely delicious, pretty one,” he coos, picking up the can of whipped cream from beside you where he dropped it. He sticks the tip of the can into your mouth and presses it down to force cream into it, watching with amusement as you try to swallow it to avoid choking at the sudden sensation. Jude then pulls back and lets the can fall to the floor, satisfied with teasing you.

Sven picks up his blazer, which you are able to notice is laying on a stool somewhere behind your bed now that you’re on the floor. He wraps it back around his body, pulling his arms through the sleeves and tugging the front ends down to adjust the thing over his body.

“See you around, baby,” Sven grins coyly. He gently nudges at your face with his shoe and promptly walks off, exiting the room with his partner following from behind. You’re left laying on the floor soaked in cream, chocolate, and cum. You try to get up, but feel fairly weak after being used, and so you stay where you are. You chastise yourself for having let both men take advantage of you again and having let your body succumb, but now accept that there’s nothing you could have really done to stop it anyway. There’s also a frustration in you over your panicked reaction to Jude’s sharp thrusts. You hadn’t realized just how much Milos’ rough play messed with you, but you’re not sure if you’re afraid of and angry at him because of what you consciously remember being done to you, or because of what you don’t. You don’t want to let his handling of you ruin whatever pleasure you’re capable of feeling, though. Even if being used every day against your will is hellish, you’d rather enjoy it somewhat than not at all.

You feel yourself growing more and more tired, knowing full well that you’re being drugged again. This time, you welcome the wave of sleep, yearning to close your eyes and forget about what you just went through and what memories linger in your mind. As you slowly feel your body shutting down, you can only think of seeing the other Numbers again in a while. Your mind wanders briefly to Lav and Cyrus for comfort, but you don’t really have the mental capacity to think about why before you finally lose consciousness.

Chapter 25: Rest Twelve - Stage

Girlish laughing pierces your ears as your senses return to you, your body finally awakening from what you assume has been a long sleep, given how groggy you feel. You open your eyes and are surprised to see that one side of your face is pressed against burgundy sheets. You turn your head to look up and gaze upon a metal hood above you, reaffirming your suspicions that you’re in the theater again. However, the lighting looks far different now, and you presume that the lights have been turned on. You can vividly see the beds, and the rich color of its sheets is washed out slightly with the white light surrounding the room.

You sit up, holding your head as you try to recollect yourself. Once you manage to do so, you look up and see the theater stage clearly, noting how much bigger it looks from what you presume is the front row, since there are no other rows of beds before you. Now that the screen from last time isn’t in the way, you can see that the stage is not a traditional wooden one, but is instead made of metal as grey as most everything you’ve seen around the recreational areas. There’s not much to look at up there, but you can see that the back wall is riddled with cubbies and large cabinets filled with, you presume, props and costumes.

Up on stage, you notice both twins fooling around with a variety of random props, having their usual laughing fits in the midst of trying to put together some kind of show.

“You finally awake?” A voice calls from beside you, making your heart jump since you hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the bed row with you. Coming down from your jumpy reaction, you look to your right and see Blue sitting with her legs straight out and her back against the elevated bed. You pull yourself up and lean against the incline as well, exhaling

“How long have I been out?” You ask her, rubbing your temple. However, she shrugs in response.

“A while, but not like, a long while, you know?” She tells you, pressing her hands on her lap. “Honestly, you gotta stop asking about time stuff, we have absolutely no idea. Or at least I sure don’t.”

You laugh slightly at her reaction to you, but you’re sure she’s at least somewhat serious. You then look back at the stage for a moment, crossing your legs.

“How did I get here?” You ask Blue, who nudges her chin sharply to her right as if pointing with it. You lean forward and see Lav there, sitting with one knee folded up, and one elbow bent and leaning on it. She glances at you and smiles, realizing that you’ve noticed her.

“Hey,” she gives a slight wave. “I thought you might wanna hang with us for a bit, so I brought you over. One of the doctors came in and left you on the couch, but I figured a bed was more comfortable.”

You feel a little strange encountering her again after what you two did last time in the theater, but you admit you’re glad to see her. In fact, you’re surprised she’s here and sitting so close to the others where she had said she never really did.

“Did you decide to join everyone finally?” You question her curiously. She gives a bit of a shrug of her shoulder, evidently not wanting to make it a big deal.

“Yeah, I mean…” she trails off. Blue, however, picks up for her.

“We invited her,” she explains. “Nobody else is really around right now, so we figured we’d be nice after you stuck up for her, yadda yadda. We expected her to say no, but she didn’t really. We’ve just kinda been talking while the twins over there do their thing.”

“What are they doing?” You glance at the stage and see Two and Three jabbing at one another with foam swords. Predictably, they can’t keep their act together long enough before one twin eventually bursts out laughing over nothing.

“I have no idea,” Blue raises a brow. “They started trying to pretend they were in some weird fantasy world and then it devolved into them constantly laughing. I wish I had their energy for stuff like this. I only really do when I’m drawing or fucking.”

“Mm, the two moods,” Lav chimes in with a laugh. “I actually didn’t know Blue was an artist. I wouldn’t have really guessed.”

“So, like Seven and Eight, you thought I was nothing but a slut, right?” Blue smirks. “I wish I could be mad, but I know it’s true.”

“You say that so casually,” you blink at her in surprise. You hadn’t much liked it when Sven called you a slut, but seeing Blue embrace it so easily is particularly strange to you.

“Look, if I spend my time being all huffy about what people think of me, I’m gonna have a pretty shitty time here,” Blue scoffs. “I mean, obviously I can’t avoid it all the time. I have feelings, you know. But, it’s good to just do things for yourself whenever you can without giving one shit about what anyone has to say about it. You know?”

“Strangely, we can at least agree on that,” Lav laughs. She leans in more and looks over at you with a bit of a smile. “I finally got to tell her why I like playing naked. She didn’t think it was weird like most people do.”

You blush and look away, realizing she also likely means you.

“Meanwhile, Lav had to learn to casually accept my absolute comfort with the other doctors,” Blue adds, huffing a bit of breath out to move some hair out of her face. “But we can’t talk about that too much within earshot of the kids.”

“Kids…?” You turn to look at the twins, hoping Blue isn’t being literal. She luckily shakes her head in response.

“Figure of speech, Ten,” she tells you. “Don’t you know anything?”

You open your mouth to answer, but suddenly hear your name being called from the stage before you. As you turn your attention to it, you see that both Two and Three have finally paid attention to their “audience” and have noticed that you’re awake. Two is currently waving around his foam sword and calling you over with a smile.

“Hey, wanna play with us?” he asks you. “If we have another person, we might actually be able to do something.”

“Blue and Lav didn’t want to play,” Three adds, dropping her hand to her side with her foam prop still held in it. “We wanted to try putting on a scene ourselves, but we can’t really concentrate if it’s just us.”

“I noticed!” Blue yells back, raising her hands to her mouth to make sure she’s heard.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Two pouts, dropping his hands as well. “Anyway, c’mon Ten! You can be whatever you like.”

“I don’t know how to act,” you hesitate. “Hell, I barely even know how to talk sometimes.”

“Oh please, you talk a lot,” Blue laughs at you. “Just do what you normally do only, I don’t know, more over the top or something. Haven’t you ever seen a movie or read a book?”

“I read a few books, but otherwise I don’t know,” you answer her honestly.

“Then just follow their lead,” Lav suggests. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Are you coming?” Three calls out to you, making you feel like you’re obligated to. Huffing a bit of breath, you rise and make your way to the side of the stage where you see a series of steps leading up to the raised platform. Quietly, you join the twins, glancing embarrassedly at your so-called audience comprised of Blue and Lav.

“Okay, so we want to do a fantasy scene,” Three fills you in now that you’re close by. “Like, a knight and a princess or something like that. Do you want to be a princess?”

You look away, blushing at the mention of the word. Most every doctor you’ve encountered has called you a princess, and it embarrasses you now to have a Number ask you outright if you’re up to playing the role. It feels far too real for you now, so you shake your head.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” you decline Three sheepishly. “How about I be something else? Maybe something in the background.”

“You can be a tree,” Two suggests with a shrug. “Like maybe some mystical talking tree that gives directions or guidance.”

“That sounds strange.”

“It’ll be easy!” Three smiles, putting her foam sword on the floor. Glued to her brother’s idea, she moves off to shuffle through the shelves toward the back wall of the stage and pulls out two green sheets of cloth. Without hesitation, she brings them to you and hands them over.

“Just hold them and pretend you’re a tree,” she guides you. “I know you might feel silly, but it’s all about your performance and how you present yourself. You can act any way you want when you take up a role. You can be a nice tree or a mean tree, a funny tree or an old tree. Make sense?”

You take the cloth from her, which you find is made of some kind of cotton, and stare at its green color in your hands. You find yourself squinting, trying to focus yourself and get into your arboreal role. You’re not sure how a tree is supposed to act really. The fantasy story you read a while ago had things like fairies and elves, but not magic, talking trees. You start to wonder whether you should read more to expand your understanding of the genre.

“I’m not sure how to approach this,” you exhale, glancing over at Blue and Lav who are mostly just talking amongst themselves while you and the twins set up.

“Just follow our lead, it’s fine!” Three giggles, then widens her eyes. “Oh wait! We need a dragon!”

She heads back over to where the shelves are and finds a small stool between two of them. With a bit of an ah-hah¬ noise, she grabs the thing and brings it to the other side of the stage, where she promptly sits upon it with her legs crossed.

“’Kay, ready!” she calls to her brother. He nods, and with his foam sword in hand, he runs to the other side of the stage and leaves you standing there in the middle. Still holding your green cloth, you look toward Three, then back at Two with a confused expression on your face. You’re unsure whether you’re supposed to move or not, but don’t know where to go anyway. You briefly look over at Blue and Lav again only to see that they’ve moved their attention to you with amused smirks on their faces. Seeing this flusters you, but you don’t suppose you’re in any position to leave the twins hanging now that they’ve gathered their wits enough to prepare to enact some kind of a scene.

“Alas!” Two cries out from one side of the stage in an overly booming voice, taking you by surprise. “It seems our princess has been captured by an evil dragon!

From across the room, you hear Two loudly respond with breathy wails,

“Oh no, I’m in danger of being eaten by the great dragon Stoolinitus!” She cries, dramatically throwing an arm to her head and throwing her head back. “Woe is me should I not be rescued! Will anyone come save me?”

You blink at her, unsure of how to feel about this over-the-top and cheesy display of, supposedly, acting. You wonder if this is what roleplay is like in the bedroom too, but try to push such thoughts away in embarrassment.

“As Redicus, the eldest son of the Red Shirt family, it is my responsibility to answer the call to battle!” Two speaks up, beating his chest with one hand and tightly gripping his sword in the other. You hear Lav and Blue give stifled laughs, obviously amused by this display.

Two raises his sword and boomingly calls out,

“Onward! Into the forest of confusion!”

You watch him saunter over with his false heroics and move a hand to his head, searching the bedded rows as if looking for something. He eventually turns his attention back to the stage.

“Hark, is that a tree I see before me?” He points his sword at you. “But this is no ordinary tree, is it? It’s enchanted! Have you any wisdom to dispense, tree?”

You look at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. He holds his position for a little while before Three finally calls to you with a hushed voice from across the stage.

“Say something!”

“Uh…” you groan, rolling your eyes around as you look for something to focus on to inspire you. Eventually, you look at the green cloths in your hands and decide to try something.

“Pray thee, good sir, who might you be?”

“Ah, the tree speaks!” Two bounces off your words with enthusiasm. You’d almost find it funny, if not for the fact that you feel embarrassed being on stage even to an audience of two. “I am Sir Redicus, knight of the Red Shirt family in search of one captured princess. Have you anything you can tell me that may aid in her rescue?”

“Uh…” you look around again as you speak. “I did see a dragon pass by, yes. Stoolinus.”

“Stoolinitus!” Three whispers loudly from her seat, correcting you.

“Yes, that’s—Stoolinitus, that guy,” you feel your embarrassment growing. “He’s got the princess locked up in his keep over…that way.”

You point a green cloth to where Three is sitting casually, guiding the knight with your, you suppose, branches. You have no time to add much else to your dialogue before Two speaks up again.

“Many thanks, kind guiding tree!” He bellows, raising his sword into the air. “Onward I go, to glory!”

He casually walks over to Three and continues his spiel.

“Fair princess, I’m here to rescue you!”

“Oh, how I’ve waited and waited for someone to come!” Three dramatically wails. “Thank the gods that I have finally been blessed with one who will protect me from this hideous beast!”

Three rises from the stool, taking a place beside you while clasping her hands together and holding them up to her chest. You watch with concern as Three begins to viciously attack the stool with his foam sword as if it were alive, parrying the inanimate thing like a madman.

“So, this is acting?” You lean in and ask Three quietly. She giggles at you and gives a quick nod.

“It’s silly, but it’s fun,” she says simply. “I know you probably felt stupid, but you did okay.”

After a while of trying to slay the stool dragon, Two finally kicks it down with his bare foot, tipping it over and letting a loud THUNK echo across the room. He seems to find this pleasing, and he raises both hands up into the air in victory.

“Ah-hah! I have conquered the mighty beast!” He cries eagerly, turning then to face Three. “You are forever safe, princess.”

“I am so grateful, my knight!” Three responds with a cheery voice. The two suddenly burst out into laughter together. Both Blue and Lav give light claps at the show and giggle at everything they bore witness to, utterly amused by it. Certainly not because they found it to be good, you’re sure.

“Okay, gotta say, that was super funny,” Blue chuckles. “Ten, you make a mean tree.”

“Wait, we’re not done!” Three giggles as she moves in to hug her brother tightly. He looks down at her in confusion, but his sister adds, “You saved the princess, now you get to marry her!”

“Is that how that works?” Two tries to brush this off, but you can see his face growing a little red. You clutch your arm slightly in embarrassment as well, confused about the implications given their sexual relationship. You notice that Blue and Lav are looking at each other with shrugging shoulders as if to say they’re unsure what’s going on either, but they don’t say much otherwise.

“Yes!” Three giggles again, still clutching her brother’s torso. “You’re my knight, and I want to marry you. Don’t you want to marry me too?”

“Ah…Redicus is very confused right now,” Two continues to blush, dropping his foam sword on the ground. He glances over at you and sheepishly tries to give a fake smile as he realizes how much more awkward this is for you since you know about them. You avoid his gaze, but are eventually taken aback by the intercom chiming in from above.

“Three to the gate, please,” you hear Mom’s lively voice summon the girl. This makes everyone freeze, especially Three who tenses up suddenly with her eyes wide. Nobody really says anything for a moment, but eventually Two pulls away from his sister and takes one of her hands in his.

“Come on,” he breaks character and says softly to the girl, whose head is now down and looking at the ground. He looks at everyone for a moment after motioning for his sister to follow him off stage.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” he tells you. With nothing else to say, he and his sister quietly walk off stage and make their way down the aisle toward the theater exit. You hadn’t caught Two’s face as she passed by you toward the stage stairs, but you know she was likely trembling.

With both of the twins now gone, you drop your green cloths down on the ground and hop off the stage front, which isn’t so elevated that it would be cumbersome to, but is enough for you to have to be careful. You again join Blue and Lav, sitting in front of them on the floor instead of on the bed so that you can see them better.

“Is it just me or did that get weird at the end?” Blue raises a brow. “I hope Three was just acting.”

“Oh, of course she was,” you try to brush it off with a fake smile. “She was just playing up her role, that’s all.”

“I dunno, something felt kind of off about that,” Lav chimes in, as if trying to piece things together. However, you attempt to change the subject.

“Why is she always so afraid like that, anyway?” You question. “Everyone else seems to be so casual about their time here. If they’re not, they’re just angry. But she’s just constantly scared. I get scared too, but not…always.”

“Yeah, she’s like that,” Blue shrugs, beginning to toy with the hair at the end of her ponytail with one hand. “I don’t know, I guess some people just really can’t handle certain things no matter how much they deal with it. She’s been like that for as long as I’ve known her.”

“Does she have an abusive doctor or something?” Lav asks, leaning in. “Or do the ones that are abusive see her regularly?”

“You think I know?” Blue scoffs. “That girl’s tight-lipped. I used to ask her stuff all the time and she never wanted to talk about it. I eventually just learned to shut my mouth around her when it comes to talking about the doctors.”

“We could always ask her brother,” Lav raises a brow. “But I don’t know if he’s willing to talk about it either. I barely know the guy myself, but he seems more open than she does.”

“You barely know anyone at all with how reclusive you’ve been,” Blue laughs loudly. “I wish you’d joined sooner though. You’re pretty alright, you know?”

“I think I’m pretty alright too,” Lav smirks. “But really, you guys aren’t so bad. I just, y’know…I focus on myself a lot.”

She looks up and scratches her neck, then glances over at you and blushes.

“But sometimes I guess it’s okay to focus on others too. Maybe I should learn that now rather than later.”

You give a slight smile at her, which she reciprocates. Blue merely stares at the both of you and shrugs again.

“Well, maybe now we’ll all be a more functional family,” she says.

“And maybe I can coax you guys into playing basketball with me sometime,” Lav laughs in response. “With our clothes on, of course. I don’t like playing in these shitty gowns, but I’ll do it if there are others around. Plus, it might level the playing field a bit if I can’t throw as well as I do when I’m naked.”

You lower a brow at her, realizing as she says this that she could have put her clothes back on at any time when you’d first met her, and that she explicitly chose not to. You don’t suppose you’re too upset thinking about it, but don’t get much a chance to dwell on the thought before the theater doors open again and Two comes walking in, his sister now gone from his side.

“Hey, what are you crazy kids talking about?” He greets, not bringing up any of the events prior to his return and, you suppose, likely not wanting to. He takes a seat beside you, folding his legs and tucking them under his knees so that he can sit on them.

“Oh, doctor stuff,” Blue lies. “We’re just chatting, I guess.”

“Oh…” Two looks down. “There’s still some doctors I’m not really familiar with. I don’t see everyone, really.”

“Who is your doctor?” You ask curiously. In response, Two leans forward on his legs and pouts.

“I don’t really like talking about it much,” he grumbles. “But I have Jonathan. Maybe you met him by now. He’s a pretty skinny guy, but he’s strangely stronger than he looks.”

“Jonathan’s really dreamy,” Blue puts a hand to her face and blushes. “I wish I got him or Nathaniel. But I got saddled with some old guy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Two mumbles. “Call me crazy, but I really don’t like dick.”

“What old guy?” Lav tilts her head, focused on Blue’s statement. “There aren’t a lot of older men here that I know of.”

“I mean I guess he’s not that old, but he’s way older than me…I think,” Blue explains. “He looks kind of aged compared to some of the doctors I actually like. His name’s Jude Christian. You guys met him before?”

“Ugh,” Is Lav's scowling response. You suppose this means she understands fully well who Jude is.

“No,” Two lowers a brow to Blue's question. “I don’t see a lot of the men here other than Jonathan and maybe Nathaniel. I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”

“He’s not bad,” Blue shrugs. “But, I like the cuter doctors too. Don’t you think so Lav? Ten?”

“You kidding?” Lav furrows her brows. “These doctors may know how to work me, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Both girls turn to you for a response, but you don’t quite know how to. Having to talk about this so casually is so strange to you now. The way the conversation is going, talking about the doctors is less of a coping mechanism and feels simply like casual gossip.

“I…I’m not fond of Jude or Sven,” you look away, blushing. “I had to see them today.”

“You see them at the same time?” Lav widens her eyes. “Jesus…”

“They’ve done that with me too,” Blue shrugs. “It’s not so bad. I think Sven’s kind of cute though.”

“Great, then you can have him,” Lav scoffs, sinking back into her seat. “He’s an asshole.”

“So…Cyrus has Mom, right?” You change the subject. “Does anyone know what her name is?”

“Mummy’s just a mystery,” Blue answers you with another shrug. “I don’t know her name. Nobody knows her name. She’s weird like that. Like, maybe the doctors know, but even they call her what she wants them to. I don’t see her much anyway, though. She doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, I heard Ma mostly goes for guys,” Lav adds with a nod.

“She sees some girls,” Two corrects. “I think she’s seen Five a few times. She also really likes my sister. It’s really creepy.”

“That’s why she’s so shaky whenever Mom comes on the intercom, then,” you remark solemnly, though you already knew this was true. Two nods, but doesn’t say much else about it.

“She likes me too, for some reason,” you explain, pressing your palm against the floor and grimacing. “She’s been picking on me ever since my first visit with her. Cyrus said that it’s normal, but it still weirds me out. I don’t particularly like her, but she seems to want to see me again.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Two shrugs you off. “She likes all of us guys a lot, switches it up between being submissive and being dominant. But I don’t know if she treats the girls the same.”

“She told me she didn’t, but I’m not sure how true that is,” you frown. “Anyway…what about everyone else’s doctors?”

“I don’t like talking about it much behind her back, but Three has Nathaniel,” Two speaks up. Blue giggles at this statement, obviously wanting to remark on her favorite doctor, but doesn’t respond otherwise.

“He’s nice to her,” Two goes on. “But she also sees doctors that aren’t. She’s super fragile, so it just messes with her pretty bad to a point that even the nice doctors make her feel awful.”

“You know my doctor already,” Blue moves on. “And I think Five has Milos.”

“She does,” you confirm with a touch of your neck. “I saw him recently. When Jude and Sven raped me, they mentioned someone named Simanek. Is that his last name?”

“Yeah,” Lav confirms, her eyes narrowing. “It is.”

“I was pretending not to notice those marks,” Blue looks away, dropping her hands from her hair. “Milos can be pretty shitty at times. I like him when he’s sober and clean, but I hate him otherwise.”

“I didn’t know whether you wanted to talk about it,” Lav chimes in. “We usually ignore any bruises on people unless they make it clear they want to talk.”

“Except Violet,” you look down. “She seemed to be more straightforward about identifying who hurt me, but she didn’t seem to want to talk to me about him otherwise. She was pretty annoyed with me yesterday, though, since I was hanging out with her and Cyrus.”

“Geez,” Lav rolls her eyes. “She was mean to me too because she’s super into the guy and thought I was a threat, even though I don’t even know him too terribly well enough to know if I even care like that. I just learned to ignore her behavior. I don’t hang around everyone much anyway, but I feel like now that I want to try to, she’s going to start up again.”

“I can’t take all this catty bullshit,” Blue shakes her head. “We’re supposed to have some kind of solidarity or something so that we can rely on one another, but she treats me especially like ass sometimes. She doesn’t even call me by my preferred name, so I don’t often use hers either.

“Gee, I wonder what that’s like,” Lav sarcastically remarks. Blue doesn’t seem to really get her implication.

“I don’t know who her doctor is though,” she goes on. “I barely even know who Six’s is.”

“Gale Smith,” You answer. “They’re Six’s. They’re a little strange, but they did try to be nice to me for my first visit with them. I was told they can be nice, sometimes.”

“I don’t think I know Gale,” Blue ponders, looking up. “But maybe I’ve just never met him.”

“Them,” you correct, wondering why she just went off about preferred names before completely ignoring it for someone else. “They told me they go back and forth between genders. I’m not sure I’ve met anyone like that.”

“I still haven’t” Blue laughs. “But we sometimes never meet each other’s doctors. We also sometimes meet doctors that aren’t any of ours, which is why Cyrus thinks there are other groups like us. Before this group was fully together, I actually met a few doctors once and never again. But that hasn’t really happened much as of late. I’ve really only been seeing our doctors.”

“Same, really,” Two confirms this. “I’ve seen a few nicer women here before, but as of late I’ve just been stuck seeing the crazy ones we know.”

“I think Ten’s doctor is the only one of this group’s that everyone knows the least,” Lav ponders aloud, moving onward. “You have that one guy with those green eyes and square glasses, right?”

“Yeah…” You blush at being reminded of your doctor again. “He’s…I don’t really know how to describe him. He’s weird to me, but he also tries to be sweet at times. It feels twisted, but sometimes it’s comforting. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all,” Blue raises a brow. “I’ve never known doctors other than someone like Nathaniel and Jonathan to be nice, but even they can be rough if they want to be. They know they have power over us so they don’t shy away from using it.”

“Cyrus says you should be careful about that stuff,” Two reminds you. “And even Eight, for as mean as he is, has a point about not really trusting the doctors too much.”

“Of course that’s true,” you exhale. “I just…Yosuke has been fucking with me a lot. I don’t really know what else to say about it other than ‘I’m confused’. It’s becoming harder for me to put it into words where it wasn’t so hard before. I almost gave into him at first until I learned what kind of person he was, so I fought him for a while. But now…”

You trail off and look at Blue for a moment with focused eyes.

“How did you learn to accept all of this so easily?” You ask her. “You seem like you’ve got an okay head on your shoulders, but you’re able to accept everything and even like it without consequence. How do you just…give in like that?”

“It’s not like I didn’t struggle,” Blue looks down, beginning to play with her hair again. “I hated it when I came here. It’s not the sex that bothered me, it was the people who were using me and the way they were using me. Lav here keeps herself going by taking control of her body and showing that she’s not afraid to be who she is. I did the same, only I did it differently. After so long of begging for freedom, I eventually said ‘hey, maybe if I stop fighting it and tell myself I like it, I’ll be able to take control of my own pleasure.’”

She drops her hands to her lap and sighs.

“I stopped telling myself I hated it and started trying to like it,” she goes on. “And now I feel good. Maybe I had to lie to myself a little, but now I don’t suffer. People like Seven and Eight really hate me for being happy, though. It’s pretty annoying.”

“Did you ever think you were wrong to give in?” You inquire, looking down at the floor mindlessly.

“Never,” She answers you with a shake of her head. “I swallowed my pride and went for it. When I started doing whatever I was told and playing my role better, I started to really enjoy it. I was acting at first, but I just became my character after a while. I started feeling happier, perkier, more alive. It also helped that I focused on the good things about being here. Like I said, you don’t get pregnant, you don’t starve, you don’t have to work…It’s not so bad. But I know not everyone sees it that way. I just ask that they don’t think less of me for it.”

“We don’t,” Lav assures her. You want to mention that pregnancy can still technically happen, but you’re not really given the chance to interject, nor do you think it right to dent the sureness Blue clings to. “I personally can’t get behind your method, but I won’t knock it.”

“Yeah,” Two agrees. “I think I just keep myself afloat by taking care of my sister. But I also like having fun and being dumb sometimes.”

“You’re telling me, with that performance you just put on,” Blue laughs. “Anyway, the doctors aren’t all bad, Ten. But, if you wanna keep up your fight, you totally can. Or you can do what I did and say you want to feel good and let them make you feel good. I find it empowering.”

“That’s only if you want,” Two adds. “Be whatever, really. Just don’t be a jerk.”

“Everyone keeps telling me to find my own way,” you half-laugh. “I’m not sure about anything these days. But I’m glad I have you guys. Really.”

Blue gives a girlish chuckle.

“Don’t be so damn cheesy,” she stretches her leg to nudge yours with her foot. “We like you, alright? You’re our friend.”

Being told this makes you feel warm inside, your body fluttering happily as you feel welcomed by such a group of misfits. You’ve never been directly referred to as a friend despite thinking of everyone as yours, and hearing it outright makes you feel like you’re wanted and loved. You’re glad that Lav has decided to make the effort to join everyone as well, and you admit that today’s strange events have distracted you entirely from everything that’s gone on recently.

You wonder, however, whether the group really thinks so lowly of Violet and Eight and whether or not that can change. You realize that nobody had acknowledged those two’s doctors and instead immediately moved on in the discussion without even bothering to ask about them. You hope that Cyrus can bring himself to talk to Violet about how he feels soon. As for Eight, you’re not sure how he’s doing and worry slightly given that you haven’t seen him in a while. You wonder if he’s still mad at you for everything that happened in the music room, but you presume that you won’t know so soon.

You ponder over your dream and Eight’s words to you in it. A part of you wonders whether you should just give up on him entirely so that you’re not subconsciously attaching yourself to him for the wrong reasons. If there is a chance that you’re seeking him out to control what you can’t with your doctor, then maybe you’re just being a bit selfish. You almost wish you could talk to the Numbers that are here with you now about it, but they seem to have already made up their minds. Even Lav has disappointed you slightly in her assertive opinions.

You don’t really want to ruin the mood between everyone, so you remain silent about the matter and spend the rest of your day trying to put those thoughts behind you. After a while of spending time with everyone, the intercom chimes to signal the end of the day, and everyone separates as they head to their rooms.

You notice that Yosuke is absent, with Mom taking his place in his stead. You almost want to ask her about him, but figure it best not to give her a reason to make fun of you. Instead, you greet her as you’re expected to and say nothing more.

The rest of the walk to your room is plagued with uncomfortable silence. Uncharacteristically, the woman is not teasing you, but is instead focused on something else in her thoughts as she escorts you onward. After the both of you reach your already unlocked room, Mom ushers you in and leaves you to rest. She gives you a wide, coy smile before her face disappears from your sight as the bedroom door shuts, but you try to avoid thinking about it before you climb into bed. Her face is not the last thing you want to think of before you pass out, so you instead think of the other Numbers. After a while, you feel your body lulling to sleep, though you wonder whether it’s because you’re tired, or because you’re being drugged. Regardless, you succumb to your slumber in moments, clutching your comforter to your chest.

Chapter 26: Visit Twelve - Machine

A sharp pain in your wrists jolts you awake from your unconsciousness, giving you no time to think about when you passed out or where you are just yet. Promptly, you feel your body being lifted just slightly by your arms. You realize that both your wrists and forearms have been tied together, your arms bent and hanging over your head as you’re tugged upward just enough to sit up straight. You look down and realize you’ve been stripped of your gown, with only your panties remaining. Your legs are bound by thick, black rope, bent at the knee with each calf rigorously tied to each thigh. There’s some kind of small machine just under you which you’re straddling between your legs. You’re not elevated too high from the floor, strikingly colored black instead of white. You’re only able to graze the surface slightly with your knees given that your legs are bent and bound, your feet suspended by being tied up. On the floor somewhere by the entrance before you is a bunched up lab coat, and you presume that it belongs to whoever’s with you now.

The contraption you’re on appears to be semi-cylindrical, laying flat on the floor but arcing over enough to elevate you as you straddle it. It’s not uncomfortable to rest on, but whatever it is that’s between your legs is. You can feel some kind of silicone or rubber padding just under your crotch where you’re forced to rest, and it presses against your vulva firmly as you straddle it.

You feel your wrists moving around slightly as you’re pulled upward just a bit more to straighten your posture, the sound of rope gliding along metal reverberating around the room from just above you. Looking around, you realize that this room isn’t your typical examination room—it’s far, far larger, and there are different kinds of cabinets along the walls that makes it look less like a doctor’s office and more like some kind of a dungeon. The walls are not as bright in this room as in others, but they’re still white as ever. Most of the light that illuminates this room, in fact, seems to come from the ceiling.

Sprinkled along the walls beside and nearby some of the room’s cabinets are a variety of contraptions and devices covered with white cloth, evidently to keep them free of any wear or mess, but also to keep them out of view. As you look up, you can see the ropes binding you extend upward toward the ceiling, where there are a variety of long metal hooks and loops that you assume are for suspension like this. Your rope, which is fairly long, has been wrapped around one of these loops and tied to itself again just above your head, presumably to make it easier to untie later without having to reach up too much.

You gasp suddenly as you feel two warm hands slide themselves down the curvature of your body, the lips of whoever’s behind you giving you a forceful kiss on your nape and pulling away promptly.

“Comfortable?” A low, snarky voice quietly speaks into your ear. It’s unfamiliar to you, but you can’t really turn your head to look at whoever’s with you right now. Your arms ache with the way you’re suspended, and so moving around isn’t really much of an option.

Quietly, your visitor, who you realize had bent down to reach your level, stands up and walks slowly toward the front of you, gliding a somewhat rough-skinned hand along your upper arm as he does so before promptly pulling away. With some of the light from above shining in your face, you almost can’t register this man’s profile. The first thing you really notice is a white pair of slacks and black loafers that almost bleed into the black floor. Above that, you’re able to register the beige skin on your visitor’s slightly hairy forearms, and a strange, clunky device in his hands with a wire extending from it and toward the machine between your legs.

The man in the room with you steps forward with a light clack of his shoes against the hard floor. He promptly grabs your chin with his other hand, forcing you to face him more clearly. Your eyes are pierced by the bright ceiling light at this angle, but you eventually adjust your vision to a young man with a strong jaw and red, slicked back hair that you can tell would likely be wavy or curly if not for the way it’s styled. It’s not quite the same red color as the Numbered twins’ hair, but is instead far darker than any natural red you’ve seen, so you wonder whether it’s been dyed.

Your visitor has particularly strong brows as red as the hair on his scalp, furrowed above dark eyes. You’re surprised to see that this man has a pierced left ear and another piercing around his eyebrow. There seems to be another on his chin as well, but it looks more studded than the others. Just under it is a small patch of red hair, which you presume to be some kind of goatee, but there’s no facial hair on his chin otherwise. On your visitor’s broad-shouldered torso, you’re able to see that he has a black dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up, and a red tie hanging just below his neck. Despite this man’s broad shoulders, he is fairly trim in his frame and somewhat, but not overbearingly, muscular.

This red-haired stranger cocks a grin at you, laughing at your examination of him.

“Like what you see?” He teases you, dropping your head and letting you hold it up yourself. He raises his free hand up as if to present himself to you.

“Take it all in, then,” he tells you with a mischievous voice. “You’re gonna be with me for a while. Might as well get a good look.”

“Where am I?” You finally speak up, looking around the room again, balling your hands up. “This room isn’t what I’m used to.”

“Huh?” Your visitor cocks his head to the side just slightly and drops his hand. “You stupid? You’re in one of your rooms, just not the one you’re used to. Nobody’s brought you here yet?”

“I’ve only been in my main one,” you answer him bluntly, looking away from his playful gaze.

“Figures,” the man scoffs. “Some of the other doctors don’t fool around with this stuff regularly. I guess I can’t blame them. A bed is a simple thing, but effective.”

He gives a sly smirk

“I’m sure you know that well.”

“What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me?” You question him sharply, feeling uneasy with the atmosphere in the room.

“Do you want me to?” The red-haired man lowers a brow. “Look, honey, you’re not really in any position to be asking questions or making demands being all tied up like that. I’m the one in charge here.”

You wince as you try to shift your body around to find a comfortable position for your arms, which now are starting to feel more strained.

“Does it hurt?” Your visitor chuckles. “But don’t answer, because I don’t actually care. Now, I don’t usually like leaving my toys free to talk, but I figured since it’s your first time seeing me in person, I’d let you be a little vocal. But if you do start making too much noise, I’ll shut you right the fuck up. Understand?”

“What do you mean my first time seeing you in person?” You raise your brows, looking back at your visitor. “I’ve never met you before.”

“Don’t recognize me?” The red-haired man laughs. “I’m almost insulted. But I guess it’s hard to recognize a person you’ve only seen with a mask on.”

You widen your eyes.

“You…!”

“Me?” Your visitor mocks you by mimicking the same tone as your response. “Yes, me, stupid. My name’s Micah, if it makes a difference to you. I do have a face. I don’t always walk around in a fucking gimp suit, you know. I like other things too. Like this.”

He gestures to your tied body with a smirk on his face.

“You like your little seat?” Micah teases you, but doesn’t give you a chance to answer “You’ll like it even more in a bit. It’ll make you feel real good.”

“So what, you’re going to let a thing do all the work?” You shoot out at him, furrowing your brows. “You won’t even do the job yourself?”

“Don’t get cute,” Micah looks down at you with an unenthused expression, his dark eyes narrowing. Without another word, he moves his free hand to the black, blocky contraption in his other hand and flips what you presume to be a switch, then turns a knob just slightly towards his right. This causes the thing under you to start vibrating slightly, and you find yourself clenching your fists and leaning forward at the sudden sensation. You give a sharp gasp as you feel it shaking against your labia and clit, trying to instinctively shut your legs to stop it but not being able to.

“Feels good, yeah?” Micah questions you, watching your squirming with his expression from before remaining unchanged aside from his mouth, which is now grinning with devilish delight. He chuckles as he hears you let out a moan, repeating his “yeah?” with a lighter, almost babyish voice, teasing you as your body is forced to endure the sensations of this machine.

“You’re already reacting like this on such a low setting,” he laughs. “You’re so goddamned sensitive.”

“T-this feels weird!” You cry, clenching your fists more tightly and letting out a few moans as you’re helplessly stimulated. You instinctively pull your arms, but are unable to move them very far with how little room your visitor has given you to wriggle around.

“Do you think I care?” Micah gives a deep, slow laugh. “Stupid.”

He then moves to crank the dial on his handheld contraption up just a little more, the machine under you vibrating even more strongly now and making you yelp. You hang your head and clench your teeth as you try to endure the feeling, hearing nothing but the sounds of buzzing and your gasps echoing throughout the room.

You hear your visitor gently lay the device on the floor and move to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants slowly. Before long, he grabs you by your hair and tugs it to force you to look at his hard cock.

“Show me your face while you ride that thing,” Micah commands you, shaking your head in his hand as he sees you try to look away. “I want to see every face you make.”

You shut your eyes for a moment in hesitation, but eventually look up at him obediently, still gasping and moaning as your body is stimulated by the vibrations beneath you.

“Give me a hand getting wet, won’t you?” Micah cocks a grin, but you’re not sure what he means until he presses his tip closer to your face. He doesn’t seem to want to make you suck him off, but you instead gather that he wants you to spit on his cock. Furious at him and thinking your assailant deserving of a lowly act, you gladly do so between your panting, glaring at him angrily.

Micah smiles devilishly at your compliance. Without another word, the red-haired doctor begins to stroke his shaft, still gripping your hair tightly as he works his cock with your spit and his hand. He lets out a low groan, exhaling through his nose heavily as he works his member in front of your face. You try to look away while he’s preoccupied, but he sees your attempt and tightens his grip on your scalp to a painful degree.

“No, no,” he warns, frowning. “Look at me. Watch me. And don’t you dare come until I do.”

You hesitantly return your gaze to his, your breath shaking as you try to hold in your rising pleasure. You feel dirty having to watch Micah like this, but you know you have no choice. A few sharp moans escape your lips with the vibrations continuing to shake against your clit and labia, but this only makes your assailant stroke faster and breathe harder as he gazes intensely at your face. As with your previous encounter with him, he continues to breathe heavily through his nostrils with each enthused stroke of his cock, with every bit of pleasure rising in him as he watches you bound and helpless.

After jerking his shaft for a while at a steady pace, Micah begins to quicken his strokes and groan loudly through his mouth, giving a few breathy pants as he remains concentrated on your blushing face and clenching jaw. You try your best not to come before he does, but struggle to hold on with so much stimulation emanating from the machine between your legs.

Without giving you fair warning, Micah gives a loud, throated grunt before spurting his hot cum all over your face. The sudden act makes you shut your eyes and mouth to avoid getting any of his semen where you don’t want it, but Micah responds by pressing the tip of his dick against your lips while still stroking and moaning as more cum dribbles out of him and onto you. As he finishes up, you finally let go and clench your fists harder, moaning loudly as you do so and come after him. You instinctively grind against the machine between your legs, feeling the silicone on it wet with your juices as you orgasm and cry loudly.

You hear Micah laughing with amusement at you as you come. You weakly open your eyes, careful not to let any semen get into them, but have no time to think about anything before you feel your carelessly open mouth get filled by Micah’s cock. He slides it forcefully into you, making you muffledly cry out in alarm as you feel his sex against your tongue and lips, the thing still dripping with cum so that it tastes musky and somewhat salty.

“Did you think I was just going to leave your mouth alone?” Micah teases you with a low chuckle. “Of course I’m going to make you milk my cock. I didn’t last time, so you’ll have to make up for it this time.”

He grins.

“Besides, I like you better when you can’t fucking talk anyway.”

You moan in protest, wriggling your folded legs around in a desperate attempt to get away from the vibrations. Micah sees this and laughs loudly.

“What, you want to get off of it?” He gives your head another little shake. “But you looked like you were having so much fun.”

He thrusts deeper into your throat, his cock pushing its way along your tongue and forcing you to breathe heavily through your nose. You widen your eyes as you feel yourself continuing to be stimulated by the machine and by Micah’s throbbing dick.

“Let me cum in your throat and I’ll think about it.”

You groan in protest as you feel your face get fucked forcefully, with Micah thrusting into you eagerly while you’re forced to endure more vibrating. The cum that had coated your face just earlier has now begun to drip onto your chest, much to the man’s delight.

“Like the taste?” He grunts, grinning wildly. “Want me to fill your stomach with my cum, hm?”

You shut your eyes again, blushing as he teases you. You want desperately for the pleasure to end, but you know that you can’t stop it. You continue to moan through your nose, helpless to stop Micah from raping your mouth as your body succumbs to the vibrations of the machine beneath you. After a while of enduring both sensations more and more, you soon begin to jolt with excitement again and are forced to endure another orgasm. However, in your excitement, you accidentally start to clench your jaw. You stop yourself before you bite down on Micah’s cock too hard, but you nip it just enough for him to grunt slightly in pain. He promptly removes himself from you and slaps you hard with his free hand

“No fucking biting!” He growls in your face, gripping your scalp even harder. You whimper as you confuse the pain from his hit with the pleasure from the vibrating machine.

“I…it was an accident!” You gasp, still enduring the torture. Micah scowls at you, but lets go of your head and moves somewhere behind you.

“You know that I can easily have you killed for being too resistant,” he says lowly, grabbing your thighs and lifting you up so that he can shove away the machine under you with his foot. Now free of the vibrations, you are able to collect yourself and start to breathe in heavily, panting as you recover from the thing’s torturous sensations. Micah then drops you, letting you hang by your arms. The sudden shift in weight puts pressure on your wrists, which already hurt from how tightly the ropes are tied around them. You wince at the agonizing feeling, but aren’t able to do much to alleviate it. You try to count backwards in your head to distract you from the pain, but are interrupted by the sounds of Micah dragging something from behind you toward your body. He pushes a large, black, low-rise table under you and moves your body onto it. You find that you’re able to comfortably kneel on the thing without too much trouble now that you’re elevated just slightly more, and with the table’s width, you’re able to shift around without much trouble either. Your pussy is still dripping, so some of your juices spill from your panties and onto the hard, cold surface of the table.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear!” You try to assure Micah, your heart pounding at the mention of being killed again. You watch as he moves toward your front, guiding another strange machine before you. You aren’t able to get a good look at it, but it’s white and metallic, with a few wires jutting out of it. The actual mechanical portion of the thing is very small, with most of it spanning across the long top of the contraption. Anything else below it is just a leg or a bar for support. Micah props the thing against the table you’re on, close to its end so that you’re face to face with it. He slowly extends the legs of the contraption up so that you’re able to see the machine more clearly, realizing that it has a long metal stick with a dildo of, you hope, average size at the end of it, facing you.

“Sure you weren't,” Micah glances at you with a displeased look on his face, but then smiles coyly as he sees your fearful expression in your uncertain examination of the machine.

“Oh this?” He changes his tune. “It’s your punishment for biting me. I won’t actually have you killed unless you do something drastically bad. Anyway, I’m sure a slutty little thing like you will love this. I’m well aware of how hungry you are for cock. But you don’t deserve mine today. Not in your pussy, anyway.”

Micah takes the machine plug and wanders over to the other curved machine he kicked away, which you now realize has been continuing to vibrate this whole time. He eventually turns the thing off, leaving the room in a sudden silence. Promptly, he moves toward a wall to your side and just behind you, unplugging the other machine and instead plugging in this next one before you. You hadn’t really noticed a plug along the wall before, but realize that the cord had been behind you while you were straddling the first machine.

After he’s done what he needs, Micah moves back behind your back and unties the rope from above you, allowing your arms to fall while still tied to one another. After so long of having them over your head, it almost hurts your shoulders to move them down again, but you feel much better when you do.

“I-Is it going to hurt?” You ask your assailant, stammering while eyeing the machine in front of you with worry. Micah only laughs at you, throwing the excess rope over your chest and pulling you down forcefully with it so that your back slams against the wide table. You let out a sharp gasp at the sudden sensation, but have no time to struggle before Micah wraps the rest of the rope around the table and ties it firmly, making you unable to get up at all. You’re left with your tied legs spread, over the table and your arms above your head again, but lying flat this time at least. You’re able to wriggle around just slightly, but are otherwise immobilized.

Micah looks at you and grins as you squirm, watching as you become uncomfortable with how you’ve been positioned. He says nothing as he pulls something out of his pocket, which you realize to be a butterfly knife. He opens it and moves it toward your crotch, grabbing your panties and cutting them open so that your wet pussy is exposed to him. You gasp lightly as the red-haired man quietly swipes two fingers down your slit, then brings their wet tips to his lips to suck, tasting your juices eagerly.

“Damn,” he groans. “I’m almost disappointed it tastes so good. I almost want to give you a good lapping right now.”

Micah frowns just slightly, his eyes narrowed and focused on you.

“But you don’t deserve it. Only good girls get head.”

He chuckles as he watches you blush at his statement, still wriggling around.

“Stay still, stupid girl,” Micah commands you as he reaches to the machine to pick up another controlling device in his other hand, this one far lighter and slimmer than the other. “Might hurt your insides if you don’t.”

He presses the hand with the knife on your crotch to steady you, and you feel the cold blade pressing against your skin slightly, making you shiver. With his other hand, Micah presses a button on the remote, and you watch with unease as the dildo on the machine slides forward slowly and pushes into your pussy effortlessly. You grunt loudly as you feel it push into your body, your chest heaving as you take in sharp breaths. Though it doesn’t hurt, it feels strange to be violated by a machine.

“That comfortable?” Micah questions you with a tilt of his head. “You like it, don’t you?”

“No!” You grunt back at him, gritting your teeth. “Please pull it out!”

“Why?” Micah raises a brow. “You’re my toy right now. I can play with you how I want. Besides, you need to be punished for biting me. So, take it.”

He presses another button a few more times on the controller, and the machine begins to pick up its pace just slightly, steadily thrusting into your cunt with loud whirring sounds emitting form the machine. You yelp as it takes you, throwing your head back as you’re helplessly fucked. The pace is slow for now, but hard and deep enough to make your body well with strange pleasure.

“Please, stop it!” You beg, but Micah only finds this amusing. As he places the remote by the foot of the table, he gives a loud chuckle, then proceeds to walk toward your head.

“You think you can tell me what to do?” He questions you sternly. “No, you can’t. So shut the fuck up.”

He grabs your hair again and pulls your head to the side, forcing you to look at his raised, dripping cock while the machine thrusts its dildo deeper and deeper into your pussy.

“Take me in your mouth again, girl,” he commands you, lowering his eyes. “I want you to swallow every drop of my cum, so I’m going to fuck your pretty little throat until you do. If you bite again, I’ll cut you.”

Micah raises the knife to your face, showing it to you as a warning. You widen your eyes at the thing, but don’t have the chance to look at it enough before the fuck machine inside of you pulls out and thrusts in again sharply, making you gasp.

Micah takes this chance to shove his cock into your mouth, slamming it in forcefully and almost making you choke. He wiggles it around against your wet tongue as you fight for air through your nose.

“You do like having your mouth raped, don’t you?” Micah teases you, grinning. He keeps the knife tightly gripped in his free hand, but leaves it by his side as he thrusts into you.

“Relax already,” he frowns. “You’re mine now, so let me fuck you. Let me use that pretty little throat as a cocksleeve.”

You yelp again as you feel the machine thrust into your pussy another time, but try to do as Micah has told you and relax your throat so that he can thrust into you.

“Good girl,” he coos, smirking at you as you’re helplessly fucked in both holes. “You like having your throat fucked, yeah?”

You clench your fists with each thrust that enters your pussy and your mouth, unable to think as you’re taken. It feels strange having a machine inside of you, void of warmth. However, the combination of wet slapping noises against your face and steady schlick schlick shlick sounds from the dildo thrusting in and out of your cunt almost turns you on. You continue to moan into Micah’s dick, making him groan eagerly in response.

“Fuck, you feel good…” he grumbles, pumping deeper into your relaxed throat. He eventually leans over to grab the remote and presses one button a few more times. This causes the machine to pick up its pace as it thrusts into you, and the steady wet noises from earlier soon turn into loud, fast-paced sploshing noises. You wail desperately, loudly into Micah’s dick, but are unable to scream as you’re fucked with his cock still inside your throat, keeping you quiet.

Micah also picks up his pace and begins to thrust faster into your mouth, becoming more and more excited by your blushing face and naked body. He tightens his grip on your scalp as he fucks your face, grunting and panting as he bucks into you. You wriggle around in your bonds at the sudden speed increase, feeling your body growing hotter as you continue to endure being raped by a machine. After a while of steadily thrusting into your throat, Micah finally throws his head back and tightens his grip on both the knife and your scalp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groans, lessening his pace as he spurts a load of cum into your mouth. “Fuck!”

He continues to spurt his thick load into your throat, pressing his dick into you more so that you’re forced to swallow its warm ejaculate. You worry that Micah’s going to make you choke with how much cum he has to release, but he eventually stops and pulls away, letting go of your head while gasping and panting as he recovers from his orgasm. He watches you eagerly, his face red with pleasure as he observes you struggling to get away from the dildo pounding hard into you. Your body begins to shake and tremble as you’re fucked, and you soon come fiercely, squirting out as you’re still fed the silicone cock. You buck your hips against the machine eagerly as you come, panting and squealing as you ride it eagerly. Micah watches your face with utter delight as you roll your eyes back and suck in breath sharply, your mouth hanging wide open and a loud cry escaping your throat.

Though your orgasm eventually ends, you continue to be pumped into against your will, your body enduring more and more rape.

“P-please stop it!” You cry between gasps. “I can’t take much more!”

“But you look so fucking adorable,” Micah grins wildly, gliding his knife along your cheek gently and playfully. “Why would I want to stop it now? Don’t you like having a machine fuck you nonstop? Don’t you like being used like the little fuckdoll you are?”

“I don’t want this anymore!” You cry, gritting your teeth as you’re continuously pumped into. Micah merely laughs at you, leaning in with one hand pressed against the table on one side of your head, and the other still gripping the knife and pressing it against your skin.

“Take it,” he commands lowly in your ear. “If you’re good, I’ll give you my cock.”

You blush as you hear these words, but continue to writhe around and cry as you’re pumped into by the machine. You can’t bring yourself to speak anymore while you’re taken. The whirring of the mechanism continuously drones throughout the room between your gasps and moans, and you hear nothing but squelching sounds coming from your pussy as you’re fucked. As you continue to cry, Micah eventually leans in, taking your chin in his rough hand and frowning.

“You make too much fucking noise.”

He forces his lips upon yours, making you have to breathe and pant heavily through your nose as you try to keep up with the pace of the machine. You continue to moan and yelp, but this only makes Micah kiss you harder, more roughly. He continues to press his wet tongue into you, wrapping it around yours as you give throated cries into his mouth. After a while of his forced kisses, you finally come again, your pussy squirting out even more juices this time. You end up throwing your head back, escaping Micah’s lips and giving one final yell before you calm down again. After you continue to feel the machine pump into your body, you weakly look up at your red-haired visitor and shake your head.

“No more…please…!” you beg him shakily, beginning to feel sore from your pounding. Micah doesn’t react for a moment, contemplating as he watches you squirm while being fucked more and more. However, he finally listens to you and reaches over to grab the remote, shutting the machine off entirely. It slows its pumping pace, and your body shivers as you feel it pull out of you before completely stopping.

You begin to pant heavily now, finally able to take a break from your stimulation. As you calm yourself down, Micah takes the machine away from the edge of the table you’re tied to and instead pulls down his pants enough to expose his crotch fully. Smirking, he climbs onto the table with you, straddling it with a wide stance. He leans in and pushes his fingers not into your pussy, but into your asshole. You widen your eyes as you feel Micah’s digits enter you, and you whip your head toward him with surprise.

“N-no, not there!” you beg him, still not accustomed to the sensation of anal play. You didn’t much like it even when Gale did it slowly with you, and you only really responded to it because they took the time to stimulate other parts of your body as well. Micah, however, is someone you’re certain won’t be as gentle.

“I said I’d give you my cock if you behaved,” the man grins. “I never said it was going in your cute little pussy. I told you before you didn’t deserve it. So, you’re going to get your ass pounded into instead.”

“Stop…!” You wince, shutting your eyes as you feel Micah’s finger worming its way into you.

“’Stop, stop stop’!” Micah mocks you, scowling. He picks up his knife from the end of the table and lightly slices into your outer thigh, just enough to leave a mark on the skin, though it still makes you wince in pain.

“Stupid girl. You’re taking it,” Micah continues to chastise you. “End of discussion. If you don’t shut up, I’m going to carve my name into your thighs. I won’t hurt you bad like some of the other doctors might, but I will hurt you.”

He drops the knife back on the table and kneels up onto it, feeling that your body is ready for him. Though he didn’t use lube, Micah’s hard cock is luckily still wet with cum and saliva, and you can only hope that it’s better than nothing. Slowly, he takes his still-wet cock and slides it into your asshole. The discomforting sensation makes you grunt and grit your teeth, makes you ball your fists tightly as you take his dick against your will.

“You gonna cry?” Micah teases you, then grunts as he feels himself going deeper into your body. “…Fuck, you feel good…”

Once he’s inside of you, he leans on top of your body, grabbing your chin and making you face him.

“I’m gonna start pumping,” he tells you, smirking as he sees your disturbed face. “Don’t fight. Don’t make noise, and just take me.”

He slowly slides himself outward before pumping himself sharply into you again, making you wince. You try to stay quiet as instructed, biting your tongue as Micah rides your ass eagerly. He goes slowly at first, but sharply, bringing pain with each thrust into you until it eventually stops hurting too hard and your body opens up more for him.

“You didn’t think missionary was just for your pussy, did you?” He laughs as he watches you fight your noises. “But, tying your legs up like this and spreading you open makes it easier to take whichever dirty little hole I want.”

You give a grunt from between your teeth as Micah pumps sharply into you, beginning to quicken his pace now as he feels you becoming looser. He laughs at you as you struggle to stay quiet.

“Does it feel good? Does it hurt?” He breathes, his eyes wild with lust as he watches you squirm. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here for my pleasure, not the other way around. Don’t you ever forget that. I may have made you feel good my first time with you. I may have been soft. But that’s only because I was being generous for a newbie. I don’t like that simple shit all the time.”

He cackles.

“But you’re such a fucking whore that anything’ll make you feel good.”

You narrow your eyes and look away, but Micah shakes your head by your chin in his hand and growls.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me, now!” He almost laughs through his gruffness. “You’re going to remember this face and think of it from behind my mask anytime I come back to fuck you with it on.”

You feel your anger growing as he takes you, and even though you know it will get you in trouble, you can’t resist spitting your words out at him.

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk!” you grunt. Micah stops pumping into you for just a moment and widens his eyes. You almost think you’ve affected him for a moment before he cocks a sly grin and laughs devilishly. He pins your head back hard, slamming into the table and begins to pump even faster into you, his thick thrusts hurting you as he goes far faster than you had thought he would.

“You don’t get to talk to me that way, stupid bitch,” he laughs wildly between his breathy, grunting pants. “I let you make some noise earlier and this is how you thank me for it? By mouthing off?”

He slams his cock into your ass, the wetness of his skin slapping loudly against yours as it meets you, making you yelp loudly. Micah continues to rape you furiously until you can finally feel his member throbbing inside of you, and you soon feel the sensation of his cum filling your asshole. He grunts loudly as he blows his load into you, giving a few more hard slaps into your body before finally letting go entirely, panting and gasping as he recovers. You feel your hands tremble at the sensation of being violently taken in such a delicate orifice, your body shaking and your mouth agape as a wave of both pain and pleasure washes over you.

“Couldn’t handle it?” Micah teases you with a coy tilt of his head. “Don’t fight back like that if you can’t take the consequences of doing so.”

He glides a hand down your neck, tilting his head slightly as he does.

“But you know…” he murmurs, changing his tune. “…something about your bite was just my taste. You were a bad girl today, but I think I liked it.”

Before you have the chance to respond, Micah leans in to force another series of hard kisses upon you, sucking your lips and tongue eagerly while you remain too weak from your pounding to fight back. He moans heavily between his breaths, moving his head around as he does so and gripping your chin tightly to keep your head in place. He eventually pulls away, straightening back up over you and pulling his cock out of your ass. It slides out easily, and you feel a bit of leftover cum going with it. The sensation of the release makes you whimper, but you feel far better without him inside you now.

Micah then hops off the table, moving to a nearby cabinet to pull out a towel to clean himself off. He turns toward you and grins as he zips himself back up.

“I’ll tell you what,” he speaks up, moving back toward you to grab his knife from the table. “I had fun. I won’t carve my name into you for that little outburst after all. Besides, Yosuke would pitch a fit if I did. However…”

He bends down so that his face is close to yours, then runs his knife along your upper chest, slicing into the skin enough for it to bleed. You wince in pain, but aren’t able to stop Micah from marking you.

“When that heals fully and stops showing, I’ll come visit you again,” Micah tells you firmly. “And I expect you to be a good girl next time. If you are, I’ll be nice like I was the first time.”

With this, he gives you one last hard kiss on your cheek and stands back up. He walks toward the room entrance, plucking his coat from the ground before it, then leaves you still tied to the table.

Chapter 27: Rest Thirteen - Separated

A stinging sensation shakes you awake, and you shoot up with gasping breath. Clutching your chest, you wince as you realize that the stinging is coming from where Micah cut you before, and you look down to see the cut now closed, but still fairly red. At the time, it didn’t feel as bad as it looks now, but he seems to have cut fairly deep with his knife.

You’re also shocked to see that your gown is off, though you’re wearing new, fresh underwear now. Despite no real other injuries to your body, you still feel extremely sore, your lower body aching slightly with each shift of your position. You wish Yosuke would give you a break, but since he said he’d be busy, you’re sure he’s not going to be able to take care of you for a while. You know for a fact you’re going to have to continue to endure more from the other doctors until he does have time for you, though you’re not sure when that will be.

As your eyes fully adjust to your environment and your thumping heartbeat calms down, you realize that you’re in the infirmary, sitting on the flat, uncomfortable bed. With your body undressed, you feel especially cold as the frigid air in the room hits your skin. It makes you shiver just slightly.

Sitting beside you is a very concerned Mom with a cotton ball in a clear, latex-gloved hand. The soft thing reeks of peroxide, but you can’t do much to help the smell.

“My, I wasn’t expecting you to jolt up that way!” Mom remarks with surprise, then smiles. “Pleasure to see you again, Ten. Are you feeling better?”

You fold your arms over your body now, embarrassed to be naked in front of the woman again. You catch a glimpse of your folded rose gown at the foot of the bed and eagerly snatch it up to cover your chest with.

“D-did Yosuke come get me…Mom?” You ask shakily, trying to draw Mom’s attention away from your reactions. However, she shakes her head.

“No, pretty girl,” she tells you, almost to your disappointment. “Yosuke’s very busy today. I had to ask my boss to send some workers to the showers with you. They found you all tied up, you know, but I had to help remove those knots myself since their thick gloves didn’t let them. They’re stupidly diligent about keeping their uniforms on at all times.”

She giggles.

“You finally met Micah face to face, didn’t you?” She questions you. “I’d recognize his work anywhere. He’s a cutie, but a little wild at times. He likes some more unconventional things, but he’s still a good boy. He just likes to act tough! But I know how he’s like when he lets his guard down.”

Mom tilts her head.

“Did you like him?”

“No,” you mutter, your eyes narrowing.

Gently, Mom runs a hand down your chest, eyeing your scar intently.

“Well, he didn’t scratch you up too bad,” she tells you sweetly. “A little deep, sure, but he only really left his mark on your chest. I was trying to clean it up for you so it wouldn’t get infected, but then you so rudely interrupted me! You naughty girl.”

“I’m…sorry,” you apologize half-heartedly, looking down. “Mom.”

“Oh, I can’t be too upset with you, my pretty princess,” Mom chuckles, moving her other hand back toward you to continue cleaning your scar with the peroxide-soaked cotton ball. You hesitantly drop your gown from your chest and let her do so, avoiding eye contact with her as her sweet scent mixed with the smell of the cleaning chemical wafts into your nose.

Suddenly, the infirmary door slides open, and you widen your eyes as you catch sight of Cyrus with a bottle of water in his hands. You gasp slightly at seeing him.

“Cy-“

However, he looks at you with focused eyes and shakes his head just slightly enough for you to realize what you’ve almost done. You correct yourself promptly.

“One…” you call, a little less loudly now. You remember then that you’re mostly naked and start to blush, covering yourself up again with your gown as Mom pulls away to turn to her Number.

“My darling boy!” She greets him. “Thank you for fetching that for me. I was hoping to give some to her before she woke up. But it seems she already has.”

Cyrus hands his doctor the water, saying nothing and avoiding eye contact with you now. You suppose he wants to respect your space and avoid addressing your mostly naked body by not glancing at it, which you’re silently grateful for. However, Mom chimes in happily.

“One, I think I’m done here after all,” she giggles. “Now that she’s recovered, she doesn’t need her dear mommy to help her. Could you dress her for me?”

“I-I can dress myself, Mom!” You protest suddenly, your face growing red. The sultry doctor laughs at this and waves her hand at you as if in dismissal.

“Nonsense!” She gleefully rejects you. “Pretty princesses don’t have to lift a finger. That’s what cutie boys are for, right?”

She turns her head to Cyrus and snaps her fingers at him.

“Get to it.” Her tone seems sharper now, commanding.

“Yes, Mom,” Cyrus obeys her, moving toward you while his doctor turns to throw the peroxide-soaked cotton ball in a nearby bin, along with her glove. You look away from your friend, still clutching the gown to your chest. Cyrus leans in slightly and tries to smile softly for you, to make you less uncomfortable.

“I won’t look,” he promises you in a hushed, gentle voice. “Just raise your arms for me, okay?”

You hesitate, but do as he asks of you and raise your arms above your head. Because of how long you’d had them held up earlier, you feel a tinge of pain doing it again now. However, you try to keep them up while Cyrus takes care of you. Both of you avoid each other’s eyes as your companion peels your rose gown away from your body and moves it over both of your arms, pulling the cloth down gently over your frame. Though it’s uncomfortable to have to do this with him, you feel a little less uneasy knowing that it’s being done by someone you trust. You feel Cyrus’ warm hands brush down your sides as he tugs your gown down over you, your face flushing just slightly as you feel his touch. Within moments, the ordeal is over.

“Good boy!” Mom happily praises her Number and smiles wide, her livelier demeanor returning. She then turns her attention to you.

“Ten, you should be fine now,” she states, tossing you the water bottle, which you catch in both hands. “Take this and get going. I have a little something I need to take care of.”

She bites her lip as you stand up, curling a finger over her chin eagerly as she awaits your departure. Cyrus continues to look away from you, his expression plagued with unease, but his body unmoving. He stays still as you make your way toward the infirmary door, but you turn for just a moment to say something to him. Before you can, you catch sight of Mom moving toward Cyrus from behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving his neck a slow lick while moaning lustily. You gasp slightly and rush out of the infirmary then, moving beside the door to press your back against the wall firmly. Your heart is now racing as you realize what Mom was about to do, and you feel utterly awful for Cyrus knowing that he has to endure her.

You bring a hand to your mouth as you try to calm yourself, clutching the water bottle in your hands firmly with unease growing in your chest. Talking about what the doctors do with the other Numbers is one thing, but having to see it in person is an entirely different ordeal, you realize. It’s far more shaking to you than you thought it would be, despite knowing for a while how things are around here.

Although you’re still in shock at the overall encounter, you refuse to stay pressed against the wall by the infirmary for long. You don’t want to have to hear any noises coming from the room, so you eventually push away from the wall and make your way down the hall. Without thinking, you pick the first room you see, which is the crafts room. You’re not sure you want to do much of anything in there right now, but you’re so shaken up and desperate to move on from the thought of Mom using Cyrus that you decide to go in anyway.

You again press yourself by the wall close to the doors after you enter the room, unscrewing the cap on your water bottle and gulping as much of the substance down as you can while you try to clear your head. After doing so, you pant for a bit to catch your breath, but then catch sight of Three’s frame hunched over one of the tables before you. You suppose that she’s here drawing or crafting something by herself, but when you walk over to her, you hear her sniffling instead. For as disturbed as you feel from what you witnessed, you turn your full attention to her now, not wanting her to be upset.

“Three?” You call out, setting the bottle of water in your hands on a nearby table as you pass by it toward the girl. “Are you okay?”

Promptly, Three picks her head up and turns her body to face you, wiping away a few stray tears from her left eye.

“Hi, Ten,” she tries to be friendly with you and flashes a half-smile, but her voice sounds fairly stuffy given her crying state. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask her calmly, sitting down on your knees in front of her. “Did something happen?”

“My brother’s not here,” the girl’s voice shakes. She shuts her eyes as she tries to fight back her tears enough to talk to you clearly, constantly wiping at them with the back of her hand. “And I really need him right now.”

“Did he get picked up?”

Three shakes her head slowly, wringing her hands by her lap.

“He never showed up,” she answers with an almost cracking voice, her lip quivering relentlessly. “We’re never ever apart unless one of us is called. Our doctors always bring us here together.”

This somehow doesn’t surprise you to hear, given that their doctors work fairly closely together. You wonder, however, what would make Jonathan not escort Two over. Is he sick? You know for sure that when you’re sick or too tired, you’re kept in your room or checked up on. At least, that’s been the case for you lately. You start to worry yourself about the negative possibilities to explain Two’s absence, but you know that you can’t let the ever-delicate Three see this worry. Instead, you try to maintain a calm demeanor and smile for her.

“Maybe he just had to do a checkup or something,” you try to reassure the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Last time I was gone, it was because of that reason. I had to get my shots and all.”

“But they usually do that with us on the same day,” Three shakes her head, tears slipping past her eyes regardless of her attempts to restrain them. “We always have everything scheduled on the same days, so I don’t understand why he’s not here!”

Three then brings her hands to her face and begins to sob into them, her shoulders sharply rising and falling with each rapid breath of air she takes in between her cries. You’re not sure what to do at this point, so you try to hug her. She doesn’t reciprocate your embrace, but doesn’t shy away from it either, instead leaning into you desperately while she continues to sob into her hands.

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” you try to assure her, rubbing her back. “All kinds of things happen off schedule here, you know? Two might just be a little sick or something, but I’m sure he’ll be back later, if not tomorrow. You’ll see.”

You’re not sure how true this is, but you hope for sure that it is.

“But even when Five was sick, she was brought here,” Three continues to fight your attempts at positivity. “If he’s more sick than she was, then he could die!”

“No, he won’t,” you shake your head, tightening your embrace of the weeping girl. “He’ll be okay…It’ll be okay…”

You bite your lip, worried that you’re only feeding the girl lies. You wonder if Cyrus feels like this any time he has to console others, especially someone like Violet who’s stubborn and resistant to certain kindnesses. You don’t want to ever have to let someone down by being wrong, but you can’t possibly predict what goes on here. Perhaps your friend feels the same.

As Three continues to sob, you struggle to think of what to say to her. You’ve never had to console a person this way before, so you’re not sure if you’re even doing it right. However, you opt to try another approach, hoping that it will make Three feel better.

“Your brother wouldn’t leave you behind, you know,” you tell her with a soft voice. “He cares about you too much. You know he’d fight to make sure you were okay, so there’s no way he’d just disappear and never come back without saying anything to you.”

“But what if he doesn’t come back?” Three peels away from you slightly and glances upward, gazing at you desperately. “What if he really is gone?”

“He’d never leave without you,” you promise her again with a smile. “You know he loves you—as a sibling, I mean.”

You feel your cheeks grow red at your slip-up, being reminded of the twins’ sexual relationship. Still, you try to push it out of your mind to focus on Three.

“Will he really come back?” She questions you, eager for reassurance. You nod, still smiling.

“I know he will. Just you wait,” you tell her with another tight hug. “It’ll be okay. Okay?”

The both of you stay silent for a while, but Three’s tears eventually subside. Her eyes have become extremely red by now, her face flushed and her eyelids just starting to puff up. She stays in your arms, letting you comfort her for a while before eventually speaking up.

“I haven’t been held like this in a while,” she mutters into your chest wearily, half-laughing.

“Not even by Two?” You ask her curiously. The girl shakes her head.

“My brother takes care of me,” she notes. “But he doesn’t do it like this. Even though he’s my brother, he’s still a boy. He doesn’t always know what to say or how to be intimate like this. With you being a girl, it feels a little different.”

“I’m glad you trust me, at least,” you laugh a little, smiling gently at the girl. As she sees your face, she begins to frown slightly. You’re not sure why, but when you ask what’s wrong, Three looks down.

“You remind me of someone,” she admits, her lip trembling slightly. “Someone really important to me. I…”

She buries her head in your chest.

“Someone whose face I can’t remember anymore.”

You widen your eyes slightly.

“Y…you mean Jade?” You question the girl, your heart dropping as you mention her name. Three tightens her grip on the cloth of your gown and nods. She eventually pulls away from you, staring at you with her curious hazel eyes.

“You know about her?” She seems surprised. You give her a quick “yeah”, but don’t really know whether to talk about Jade right now. However, Three’s face continues to don its curious expression, and so you oblige your friend.

“Cyrus told me,” you admit, rubbing your arm sheepishly. “I didn’t really think you’d want to talk about it. I know you don’t like to talk about a lot of things, so I wanted to respect that.”

“Thank you,” Three smiles slightly, avoiding your gaze now. “It’s…hard for me to speak up to anyone else, really. I trust you all, but I trust my brother more. I hope that doesn’t sound mean.”

“No, of course not,” you shake your head, taking both the frail girl’s pale hands in yours. “I know it’s hard to deal with this place, and if you find someone you really care about, I can’t blame you for wanting to stay closest to them.”

You look down, thinking of Violet’s attachment to Cyrus then. You know she’s defensive of him because of how much she relies on him, but you wonder if your words to Three now are harmful. Violet is someone who relies too hard on another person, and in some sense, Three does as well. You wonder whether you do the same, relying on the other Numbers so much. You’re sure Lav has a point about not getting too attached, but you don’t think it’s wrong to want to be around others to help you feel better.

“Ten, can I trust you?” Three shakes you from your thoughts, making you blink at her as you snap back to. You give her a quick nod and an mm-hmm, and she holds your hands more tightly in response.

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” Three asks of you. “But Jade…I really liked her. She was like a mother to me. Not like Mama, but like a real mother. The kind you see in movies or read in books who loves her kids and takes care of them and who wants them to be happy. We always talked together when my brother wasn’t around, but…now I don’t have anyone else but him.”

She almost starts to tear up again, but restrains herself.

“I spent so much time with her,” she whimpers. “We did so much together, but she started to see me less the worse her mental state got. She started feeling less like a person and more like a ghost, just floating around with lifeless eyes. I hated seeing her that way. I wanted to help, but in the end, she stopped showing up. I thought she’d come back, but she never did.”

Three struggles to stop herself from crying, now letting tears fall from her eyes again. She lets your hands go and tries desperately to wipe away the wetness, but fails to keep her face dry before more tears run through.

“I cared about her so much,” Three sobs, her voice shaking again. “I don’t know how long it’s been, where she went…I feel so awful. She meant so much to me, yet I can’t remember what she looks like anymore. I can hear her voice and feel her touch, but I don’t remember her face at all!”

“Three, I’m so sorry…” You sympathetically respond, looking down. “I never knew…”

This is, of course, a bit of a lie. Cyrus had mentioned that the two girls were close, but hearing it from Three personally is far different than merely being told about their relationship. You feel terrible for the girl, but also a little strange about her saying you remind her of Jade. You want to be helpful, but you can’t possibly be precisely what Jade was for her. You hope she doesn’t expect you to be.

Before you have the chance to add anything further, the craft room doors open again. You turn your head to see Cyrus standing behind the doorframe, his eyes locking with yours.

“Ten, I’ve been looking—" He cuts himself off when he sees Three sobbing relentlessly beside you. “Hey…is she okay?”

Cyrus walks over toward the sobbing Three and kneels down slightly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

The girl continues to sob, unable to respond. So you try to speak for her, gazing at Cyrus as you address him. You suddenly notice, now that he’s somewhat close, that his hair has been lightly tussled, and his shirt is just slightly more damp than it was before, presumably from sweat. You had wanted to put the ordeal in the infirmary behind you, but being unavoidably reminded of it now makes your cheeks a bit red with embarrassment.

“Three’s upset because Two’s not here,” you explain, hoping to put the earlier events out of your mind again. “He apparently didn’t show up at all.”

“He didn’t?” Cyrus seems concerned, but doesn’t let his voice show it. You can see it in his eyes, rather.

“Three’s worried something happened to him,” you answer. “I told her he’d be okay.”

You almost want to add “but” to the end of your sentence. However, you can tell Cyrus understands your position, because he looks down in contemplation, his lips parted as if to say something but nothing coming out immediately.

“…I’m sure Ten’s right,” Cyrus eventually speaks up in agreement, forcing a smile. “He’ll be back in no time.”

Three finally collects herself enough to speak, stifling her sobbing gasps and swallowing hard to clear her nose and ears.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, wiping one eye. “But I was also crying about…her.”

Cyrus’ eyes widen just slightly, but he recollects himself and simply responds with “oh”. He stays silent for a few seconds, but eventually continues to ask,

“What about her?”

“Cyrus…” Three looks up at her friend. “…I miss her.”

The dark-haired young man almost winces, but remains with his smile on his face. He stares intently at the young girl, taking her hand in his.

“I do too,” he says simply, his voice low and soft. “We all do.”

“I don’t remember what she looks like anymore,” Three admits to him, finally calming herself down. She squeezes Cyrus’ hand and looks up at him, her eyes still a little wet. “Are you mad?”

“No, I couldn’t be mad at you,” Cyrus shakes his head, trying to reassure her. “Please don’t ever think that I would be. I know how it is. I know it’s been a while. But…I still remember her face. Do you want me to draw her for you?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” you chime in eagerly, trying to lighten the mood. You turn to Three and smile. “What about building a Jade of your own? Like with the other little cardboard people you make? That way you can always remember her. I did say we should build something together, right?”

“Yeah…” Three sniffles, trying to smile back. “I guess I’d like that.”

The three of you then spend time trying to meticulously craft a carboard Jade. Three picks out a few large sheets of white paper, markers, and some cardboard to start with. She has Cyrus help her pick the right colored markers for Jade’s hair, eyes, and dress. The young man plays along with chipperness, tapping his chin while he presses his other hand on the floor and leans over the markers, observing them with a “hmm” noise escaping his throat. In the meantime, you work on trying to cut out the form of a gown on blank paper so that you can glue it to the cardboard body to be colored. You watch Cyrus interacting with Three with a smile on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your royal blue companion this enthusiastic about something, even if it is just a bit of an act. You’re sure it must hurt him a little to have to do this, but you’re happy he’s doing what he can to play along for his friend.

“Cyrus, you smell sweaty!” Three laughs as he leans in to pick up a few markers. The young man chuckles lightly, playing it off.

“Sorry, I was running laps in the gym earlier,” he lies, chuckling lightly. “I didn’t shower after because I didn’t think I got that dirty.”

“But you did!” Three giggles, taking the selected markers and drawing out some features on the cardboard that’s meant to be Jade’s face. “Hey, how did her nose look again?”

You try to ignore the thoughts about earlier and continue to work on the paper gown, shaking your hands a little too much with the scissors you have. Not only does the gown shape come out a little scraggly, but you accidentally slice into your finger while holding the material steady. As you begin to bleed, you wince and give a bit of an “ow” sound, making both other Numbers glance up at you from their work.

“You okay?” Three questions, but you hide the bleeding digit from her sight, simply going “yes” in response. Cyrus notices your plight quite quickly, telling Three to keep working while he shifts himself over to where you’re sitting, his back turned from the girl while he faces you. Three was right, you find. He smells far sweatier to you now that he’s so close. You begin to feel bad for him again, even though you don’t want to think about what Mom did. You’re sure he doesn’t either.

Without a word, Cyrus rips into the bottommost portion of his pants leg and tugs away a bit of cloth. He then gently takes your hand in his and wraps the blue fabric around your cut finger, snugly enough to hold it while still allowing for mobility. He ties the cloth with a small knot, then lets your hand go. You’re a bit confused as to why Cyrus did this, until you come to realize that he’s done this for you so that you don’t have to go back to the infirmary.

“That should help,” he tells you quietly. “Just make something up if she asks.”

“What if it gets infected?” You whisper lowly, remembering the peroxide Mom used to treat your chest cut. Cyrus shakes his head.

“It’ll be fine,” he promises. “The cut wasn’t too deep and the scissors are pretty clean.”

Without letting you respond, Cyrus moves back to his first position beside Three, helping her finish Jade’s face. Eventually, all three of you finish your portions and work to put the cardboard Jade together, coloring in her hair and gown now. While her face has nothing but marker on it, her hair has been made of brown pipe cleaners, with several pieces of it glued to her head and shaped to form her signature drooping ponytail. It takes a little while to fully assemble her, but she’s soon completed. All three of you stand up after you’ve finished, ready to place her. Three lifts cardboard Jade up, standing for a moment before looking around to find a spot for the new doll. She eventually settles on a place by one of the cabinets, next to Sweet Pea. Carefully, Three leans the doll against the wall, letting it stand on its own beside its cardboard sister.

Stepping back, she looks at the thing, admiring the work you all did together. She smiles then, almost fighting back tears again.

“Does it help?” Cyrus asks her. “It looks pretty close, I think.”

“It does,” Three answers happily, pressing her hands delicately against her mouth with joy. “I forgot she had such pretty hair.”

“Not made of pipe cleaner, I hope,” you joke, laughing. Three looks at you, dropping her hands for a moment before wrapping her arms around you tightly, embracing you with a hug.

“Thank you, Ten,” She expresses her gratitude with eager breaths. “For your words and for your help. I really needed this.”

You wrap your arms back around her as well, reciprocating her embrace. You both share a brief, quiet moment, however it’s interrupted quite suddenly with both Three’s and Blue’s numbers being called by Mom over the intercom. You hadn’t even realized Blue was here today, but suppose Three wouldn’t have wanted to see her anyway since she was so upset about her brother.

As the announcement ends, you feel Three tremble slightly in your arms. Your heart drops somewhat, but you know nothing can really be done for her now. Three pulls away from you then, avoiding meeting your eyes for a moment.

“Do you want us to take you to the gate?” Cyrus offers her, stretching out his hand. However, Three shakes her head, finally looking up at the both of you.

“I’ll go by myself this time,” she tells each of you, holding her arm for a moment. She then motions for Cyrus to bend down slightly to meet her somewhat shorter height, which he does with a confused look on his face. He leans his ear in as if to listen to what she might whisper to him, but she instead gives his cheek a quick kiss, surprising him.

“Thank you for helping, Cyrus,” Three smiles slightly. “I’m…really glad that I can keep a part of her here.”

“Anytime,” The young man answers her with a nod. He smiles warmly at the girl, but she doesn’t linger where she is. Instead, she begins to solemnly move toward the crafts room entrance. However, she stops for just a moment to turn back to you before reaching the doors.

“He…” She starts, hesitant at first. “…He’s coming back, right? My brother’s coming back?”

“Of course he will,” You try to smile, but are still uncertain yourself. Cyrus looks down, but still tries to keep a kind expression for the girl before she eventually turns back around, heading out the doors. After she’s gone, you exhale, holding your head.

“We’re not liars, are we?” You ask Cyrus, desperate for some comfort of your own. He shakes his head slightly.

“No,” is his blunt reply. “But sometimes you have to give people guidance even when you’re not sure it’s good or true. You’re not some clairvoyant higher power or a fortuneteller. You’re bound to make mistakes, and then you have to work with it. You become somewhat of a counselor or a mentor, never certain if you’re a hundred percent right but at least knowing you’re on some kind of right path and doing your best. That’s sort of the role you have to play at times. It’s the sort of role I’ve known for a long time.”

“How do you do it?” You look at Cyrus with concern in your eyes. “You make it look so easy. How do you do this constantly and not just break down?”

“Like anyone else, I distract myself,” Your companion answers, taking a seat on the floor by the table again. You join him, sitting again on your knees beside the young man.

“I mess around in the gym,” he continues to explain. “I dip my feet in the pool, I meditate, play games, et cetera. I live in a constant loop of doing little things because they distract from the strains of the facility.”

Cyrus gives a long sigh.

“But, for as much as it’s nice to use the little things to distract myself and others, I also try to be practical. I have to come to terms with a lot of challenging inevitabilities. I have to accept a lot of things as much as I try to put them out of my mind, because all avoiding bad things really does is push them aside to be dealt with later, not really eliminate their effect on you. Things eventually build up. People can’t hide from everything. Facing certain things is horrifying, but after a while, you find a way to deal with it in a way that keeps you from sinking or from dragging down others. Acceptance without utter defeat is hard, but it’s important to try balancing. I only make it look easy because I’ve done it for so long. But even I can’t even fully hold it together all the time. I’m not perfect like some of the Numbers seem to think I am. I’m still human.”

He exhales with a half-groan, laying backward onto the floor with one hand laying flat by his side and the other resting over his abdomen. His hair falls slightly backward, exposing more of the skin around his face.

“I am tired, though,” he adds briefly, closing his eyes. “I’m very tired. I just know that I have to keep going, so I do. I want to keep going.”

“We’re not talking about helping people anymore, are we?” You raise a brow.

“I guess not,” Cyrus laughs lightly. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Because that’s so much to deal with. I feel bad that you feel like you have to do this. But you don’t have to do all of it yourself, you know. You shouldn’t have to. Do you ever talk to the group about how you feel, instead of the other way around?”

“Sometimes,” Cyrus briefly answers. “Not always. Not everything.”

A silence grows between you two for a little while, with you unsure what to say. You aren’t even sure what Cyrus might be thinking since you can’t see his face now. However, he eventually speaks up slightly.

“Ten, do I try too hard?”

“To what?”

“To be.”

You widen your eyes a little, but are unsure of what he means by this.

“Where is that coming from?” You ask him worriedly.

“I’ve thought about what dying will be like,” Cyrus quietly admits, almost mumbling. “I wonder how long it will be until I do.”

You gasp slightly hearing this, turning yourself over Cyrus’ torso to pin your hands on his shoulders as he smiles in his relaxation with his eyes closed. You give him a firm shake and call out.

“Don’t say that!” You chide him. “You’re not going to die, so don’t think like that! You have to live, not just for us, but for you!”

“A lot of this is unavoidable, Ten,” your companion reminds you, his eyes remaining closed. “One day, we will die. We just have to be ready for when we do.”

Cyrus then opens his eyes just slightly, squinting at the bright light above him.

“You look like an angel,” he laughs weakly.

“…What?” you blush, your eyes wide.

“Are you here to take me away?”

“Cyrus…” You shake your head, staring intently at him with concerned eyes. “Stop! You’re acting weird.”

The young man half-chuckles, slowly closing his eyes again. You look at him with a worried expression, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge you anymore.

“Cyrus…?”

Try to nudge him, but he doesn’t move or respond. This makes you gasp, and you instinctively put your ear to his chest to make sure he still has a heartbeat. Luckily, he does, but it’s beginning to slow its pace significantly.

“Cyrus!” You call out to him, shaking him again slightly. “Are you okay? What’s wrong with you?!”

You look toward the crafts room entrance then, deciding to suck up your unease from before and go call Mom for help. You immediately stand up and run toward the doors, but find that they don’t open this time. In a panic, you bang on the metal things and scream for help.

“Can anyone hear me?!” You cry out as loud as you can, still banging hard on the doors. “Please, we need help!”

You realize then that the doors have likely been locked, and you back away from them with your heart beginning to race.

“Oh no….” You shake your head. You drop the attempts to flee and instead run back to your unconscious companion on the floor, kneeling over him and trying to shake him awake more.

“Cyrus, please wake up!” You beg him, but he remains unresponsive. You grab each side of his head and shake him slightly, but again, he remains motionless, his expression peaceful in his slumber. You begin to cry, placing your head on his chest and feeling his slowed heartbeat yet again.

“Please, just wake up…” you weakly whimper, eventually feeling a wave of exhaustion in your own body. You finally realize that you’re both being drugged. You hadn’t even considered that they could pump the stuff into these rooms too, perhaps because you felt that these places were safer than they really were. You suppose now it was foolish to ever think so.

Your mind races in its last few bouts of consciousness with questions on why you’re being knocked out at all, but you can’t bring yourself to think on it too hard before you succumb to sleep, laying on top of Cyrus’ chest as you do.

Chapter 28: Visit Thirteen - Conjoined

For the first time in a while, you’re able to wake up peacefully without the intrusion of noise or sensation. It almost feels pleasant to you until your memories return in conjunction with your senses and you remember what happened to you in the crafts room earlier. You’re not sure how long you’ve been out or what point in time it is now, but you know you’re not in your bedroom even before you open your eyes. You’re flat on your back, your head resting against one of your raised arms which are, again, tied by your wrists to the bed. You don’t feel hard rope or metal cuffs this time, though. Like your first real visit, you think you’re bound by ribbon again, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t please you to have to think about the sensation again, but you’re at least happy it’s not digging into your skin too hard the way ropes do. You still feel a little sore from Micah’s visit, after all.

You try to shift your legs around a little and find that your right leg hangs a little more easily off the side of the bed, much to your surprise. It’s still enough space for you to move about, given that the beds are large enough to accommodate three people, but this still catches you off guard nonetheless. The sudden feeling of your leg almost dropping off the side of the bed shakes you awake more, your eyes opening wide with confusion. As they do, you see the examination room around you, but you feel slightly differently than you usually do when you wake up in your bed. You realize you’re more toward the right side, and when you look to your left, you see Cyrus’ unconscious body lying beside you, facing you as he’s lying on his side with his arms bent and close to his head. His mouth is only slightly agape, but you are luckily able to see his chest rising and falling as he slowly breathes, showing that he’s okay.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, your mouth opening to call his name with worry. However, before you can make a sound, you catch a glimpse of flesh from the corner of your eye and watch it come into your sight as you feel a soft hand clamp firmly over your mouth. The hand moves your head back to your right where you see Mom kneeling by your side of the bed, another hand to her face with her manicured finger playfully over her mouth.

“Shhh,” she sweetly hushes you, curving her pink lips in a sweet smile. “You don’t want to wake the poor boy, do you? I gave him an extra, smaller dose to keep him asleep just a bit longer, but he can still wake up any time with enough interruption. It’s better if you keep your voice low.”

Slowly, she drops her hand from your mouth and lets you speak.

“Mom, what are you doing?” You sharply question her with your voice low, balling your hands as you speak. “Why?”

“I was going to save you for myself,” Mom giggles softly. “But I saw you two together so much that I got a little bit bothered. I couldn’t help myself back in the infirmary watching him dress you, but One wasn’t enough to quell me. See, I had a visit with you already coming up, I can control all the doors, I can drug you if I like—it all made sense for me to just take a chance.”

She frowns slightly.

“The hardest part was carting you both here without relying on the workers,” Mom explains. “You’re not only heavier than you look, but I’m a woman! I shouldn’t have to do so much physical labor! Anyway, I’m not really supposed to have you two in here, so you should be grateful that I went the extra mile.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes as the woman moves in to pet your head, running her fingers through your hair.

“Don’t think about that just yet, little girl,” she coos gently, finally standing up and leaning in to kiss you. You try to protest, but she silences you fairly easily with a forceful push against your lips. Mom steadies herself with one hand on the bed between you and Cyrus, while the other hand cups your left cheek eagerly. Mom moves her head about as she sucks your lips and tongue hungrily, giving a few licks in between each movement. Between each kiss, she moans breathily into your mouth, deriving pleasure even from this. The way Mom’s going is just overtly, unapologetically sexual to you, whereas the other doctors have kissed you either more lovingly or more dominantly. You feel almost disgusting being kissed this way, but you can’t stop it from happening either.

After a while of enduring Mom’s sloppy kissing, you feel her pull away and watch as she breathes deeply, blushing heavily with glazed over eyes.

“Oh, Mommy’s missed this!” Mom quietly expresses her joy, running her cold-tipped fingers down your cheek and swiftly wiping away the saliva on your mouth before completely removing her hand from you. “I only wish we were alone. But, I can’t pass up an opportunity like this either.”

She looks over at the still unconscious Cyrus, pressing two fingers to her lips in contemplation.

“Still, he might not wake up for a bit…” She ponders quietly aloud. “Maybe we have a little time.”

She turns her head to face you and smiles coyly, moving her free hand down to your lower body and rubbing it up and down your inner thigh.

“Please don’t!” You quietly beg, shutting your legs. This upsets Mom, who pulls away her hand sharply and gives the top of your right thigh a quick, hard slap.

“Don’t talk back to me!” she says with a low, angry voice, her green eyes narrowing sharply. You glance over at Cyrus to make sure the noise hasn’t woken him, and it luckily hasn’t. You hate having to dance around him like this.

“Open your legs for me,” Mom commands you, her tone stricter now even though she’s returned to her lower volume again. You oblige the woman, not wanting to rile her up again. This makes her change her tune.

“Good girl,” she compliments you, a little less sweetly than before, but at least less angrily. “Now stay still and try not to make noise, my pretty. You don’t want One to wake up and see me doing this, do you?”

You watch as she moves her hand to your crotch and plucks aside your panties with two fingers. You tighten your fists as you feel her moving in with her fingers, using a different pair than the one you’re used to seeing used. She spreads the rest of her hand open and presses her other fingers against the skin across the rest of your crotch, and her thumb over your clit. She then begins to thrust her digits into you, slowly at first. Mom glances at you with her green eyes, smiling lustily as she watches your reactions to her play.

“Does this make my princess feel good?” Mom teases with a low voice, her original lively tone fully returned. She gives your neck a long, slow lick, flicking her tongue upward when she reaches your ear before moving in to bite your earlobe lightly. You want to moan aloud, but you only let out a light, restrained squeak from your tightly closed lips, afraid of letting yourself be heard.

“Does my princess like it when I play with her pretty, wet little pussy?” Mom continues to tease you, emphasizing each adjective with heavy whispers. She occasionally moves in to kiss and lick your neck while letting out breathy moans. After a while of enduring this, Mom picks up her fingering pace as she feels you growing wetter, and you desperately fight the urge to make any loud moans or groans yourself, instead breathing heavily through your nose and pressing your head against the pillow firmly as you throw it back. You grit your teeth through the pleasure, occasionally letting out light, audible gasps and whimpers as your pussy is relentlessly fingered.

A few times, Mom separates her fingers inside you and puts them together again, and after a while, she starts to curl them up inside of you to stimulate your g-spot. Mom continues to moan in your ear to make you wetter and wetter, and soon, you can’t take it anymore. You eventually start to move your hips forward, your pussy tightening around Mom’s fingers as you start to come.

“That’s it, sweetie,” she lustily whispers in your ear, letting out heaps of hot breath and kissing your cheek sloppily with another moan. “Come for Mommy.”

You hate to give in and obey her, yet your body can’t hold anything in now with how she’s working you. Obediently, you climax, throwing your head back even harder. You try to contain your moans, but you end up letting out one loud gasp instead, arching your back just slightly as you finish before dropping your body back on the bed and panting in recovery.

Pleased with her work, Mom slowly removes her now wet fingers from your pussy and stands back up. She places both her fingers in her mouth, sucking them clean of your juices without question. You wince at the sight of her, but she looks at you unapologetically as she does it.

“Very good girl!” she praises you running her other hand through your hair. “And he didn’t even wake up! I’m surprised.”

She moves toward the end of the bed and lifts up your gown just enough to expose your panties.

“We should get these off now that they’re wet,” Mom giggles. “Then I’ll wake my precious One myself. I don’t want him sleeping the evening away like a naughty boy when there’s fun to be had.”

Still catching your breath, you widen your eyes slightly as she moves forward to grab each side of your underwear by your hip and tugs the garment down, exposing you to the cold air. Rather than leave you open, Mom politely pulls the end of your gown back down over your thighs, dropping your panties on the floor. Once she’s finished, you shut your legs tightly, not particularly pleased at being exposed now.

Mom moves over to where Cyrus is and leans over his body, pressing a hand on the bed space between you two again. You watch helplessly as she shifts him on his back and takes his limp head in her other hand. She tilts it toward her so that he’s facing her, then moves in to kiss him.

Mom works Cyrus’ lips a little less raunchily than she had with you, though you’re sure it’s because she’s only trying to wake him up. Your unease grows at the sight of Mom’s kissing her Number, but you also feel your body tremble slightly in worry at the reaction you’re going to get from Cyrus. Will he be angry? Sad? Afraid? You’re not sure. You don’t know why it would have any negative effect on you when you trust him to take care of you, but you still fear what it’ll do to him and dread the overall encounter. It was awkward enough just being fingered beside him, even if he was asleep.

Surely enough, Mom’s kiss gradually wakes the young man, and you watch as his eyelids slowly open like curtains, releasing a familiar aqua color from behind them. Cyrus looks groggy, and you can only assume he feels the same way you do whenever you wake up from being drugged. Mom pulls away and giggles as she watches him wearily come to. She then grabs his chin to keep his gaze from wandering away from her.

“You’re a very sleepy boy, aren’t you?” She babyishly teases him. “But it’s time to get up. Mommy has something special for you tonight.”

Mom releases Cyrus and steps back, letting him sit up with his hand over his temples. He lets out a low groan, no doubt recovering from not only being drugged in the crafts room, but being unknowingly drugged again by Mom on top of it. You honestly wonder how much of this kind of drug it takes to send a person into a coma, or if it could.

Cyrus eventually drops his hand, and it’s then that he finally notices you lying beside him. He turns his head to look at you and widens his eyes, but doesn’t seem to react otherwise. Or perhaps he tries not to.

“Surprised?” Mom asks him dearly while standing at the foot of the bed.

“Mom…why is she here?” Cyrus turns to face his doctor, leaving you unable to see his expression. His voice is low and direct as he addresses her. You can’t tell if he sounds angry or concerned, but you don’t like hearing him like this either way.

“Don’t you like it?” Mom tilts her head slightly.

“She can’t be here!” Cyrus shoots back, digging his fingers into the fabric of the bed.

“Are you going to complain?” Mom changes her tone, responding more snappily. “Don’t you raise your voice at me little boy. I took the effort to bring her here because I wanted to. I’m taking a very big risk by doing it, too. You ought to thank me for gifting her to you like this.”

She brings herself down and sighs, trying to regain her happier mood.

“Please don’t make me mad in front of our guest, One,” she warns him. “I don’t want to have to hurt either of you right now, so obey. You damn well know the rules by now. They don’t change no matter what the situation is. Understand?”

“Yes, Mom,” Cyrus answers her obediently, his voice now wearier. “…I’m sorry for misspeaking.”

“I forgive you,” Mom smiles. “Now, I’m not necessarily supposed to have two Numbers with me without permission. Undoubtedly, my boss will find out what I did and how I acted out on my own terms, but I want to enjoy myself before he does. I can take whatever pissy little tantrum he dishes out, but I think it’s worth having fun watching you two have at each other.”

Even though you figured this was what she had intended for you and Cyrus, you still look at her with a shocked expression, your eyes wide and your mouth hanging slightly agape. You can’t read Cyrus’ face, but you watch his fingers curl deeper into the sheets.

“Ten, your doctor knows I’m with you,” Mom goes on, making her way toward Cyrus. “But he doesn’t know what I’m doing. He doesn’t even know I brought you to One’s room instead of yours. He might be fairly upset if he finds out what I did and not let me see you again. I don’t want that to happen, and I don’t want to take the chance to find out whether it even will.”

She grabs Cyrus’ neck and begins to choke him, making you gasp. Cyrus raises a hand to Mom’s wrist instinctively, but doesn’t try to stop her. He merely shuts his eyes as his head hangs back in her grip, his teeth gritting as he struggles to breathe.

“I don’t want to hurt my baby boy, but I will if I have to,” Mom says sweetly to you. “I know he means something to you. To everyone. So I want you to stay quiet about this. Understand?”

“Y-yes Mom!” You cry out. “Please don’t hurt him!”

Mom giggles and releases her hold on Cyrus, letting him gasp for breath and hold his neck. Without a word, the young man’s doctor moves somewhere behind the bed and begins to shuffle through the cabinets in search of something. You look at Cyrus catching his breath and quietly ask him,

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you with worry in his now-open eyes, but he says nothing in response. Instead, he gives a slight nod, then crosses his legs while he waits for his doctor to come back. Cyrus leans forward and bites his thumbnail, but continues to sit in silence. He seems to be aware of what’s coming and is mentally preparing himself for it. You’re unsure whether you’ll be able to stand it either. You are glad it’s with someone you trust as had been the case with Lav, and it’s not as if you two aren’t a little close. Had this been with anyone else, you might have felt even more uncomfortable. However, the circumstances under which you two are doing this is nothing but stressful for the both of you, and you’re certain Cyrus has never been with anyone but the doctors. You’re not even sure if he can handle doing this with someone he cares about, especially not someone who has any ability to say whether they want it or not. But, you know he doesn’t have a say in it any more than you do.

“There!” Mom exclaims from behind the both of you, bringing her spoils over and dragging a stool forward. She moves toward your side and drags the stool against a cabinet that’s just in your vision, placing a light flesh-colored dildo and a bottle of what you presume to be lube on the surface of the counter behind the stool.

“One, she’s wet, but I think she could stand to be just a tiny bit wetter,” Mom calls out with a lusty voice. “Please make her wet with your mouth, like you’ve done for Mommy. Okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” is her Number’s only reply. He uncrosses his legs and kneels up, turning himself toward you and promptly moving closer to you so that he can do what was asked of him. He sits himself near the end of the bed, but still fairly close to your legs so that he can easily maneuver you. You can see an uneasy expression on his face, and you feel guilty that he has to do this to you against his will and yours. You wonder if maybe it’s your fault that the both of you ended up here, but you don’t have time to think about it much right now as you try to mentally prepare yourself for what your companion is going to do to you.

You look over and notice that Mom’s taken her seat on the stool, and that her coat, skirt, and blouse are now off. She’s now eyeing you intently with a smile on her face, much to your embarrassment. Before you start to turn away, you feel Cyrus raise your gown up slightly and move in to spread your legs, his warm touch making you gasp. You turn to face him, but he’s continuing to avoid looking at you, his face now slightly red at the cheeks. It’s strange to see him with color in his skin.

Without a word, Cyrus moves in, hunching forward to slowly suck and lick you up, gently tonguing your clit with bold, circular strokes and short flicks. You give a short whimper at the sudden sensation, blushing as he takes you. You somehow expected him not to know where to go, but remember that he’s been here long enough to. You don’t want to have to think of the things Mom has made him do, but this isn’t hard to do with the pleasure Cyrus’ tongue brings you. He moves slowly but strongly, navigating your body easily. You feel your legs starting to shut, but Cyrus continues to hold them open, relying on nothing but his mouth to make you wet as instructed. He occasionally stops to suck your clit with loud slurps, but mostly tongues at it with different motions before dipping into your pussy sweetly. He gives you a few long laps along your slit, but soon presses his tongue into your vagina, wriggling the wet thing around inside you eagerly and occasionally giving out heavy breaths.

The pleasure you feel is almost unbearable as you let out a few loud moans and breathy gasps, your legs starting to shift relentlessly in Cyrus’ hands. You had hoped to contain your voice given that it’s someone you consider close that’s eating you out and that it’s embarrassing to let loose given this fact, but you can’t quite bring yourself to control your volume. You pull on your bonds as you arch your back slightly in pleasure, but in the midst of everything you notice Mom out of the corner of your eye with her hand in her panties, legs spread wide and masturbating to the sight of you and Cyrus. Her face is utterly red, her mouth just slightly drooling as it hangs open. You can’t see much of her, but you can see her fingers moving furiously from behind her lacy panties. In your own pleasure, you failed to notice that she’s been moaning heavily and breathily herself, clutching and massaging her right breast eagerly as she watches you.

You’re luckily swept away from focusing on her as Cyrus curls his tongue inside of you, stimulating you more and more until you can’t bring yourself to hold on anymore. You begin to come, but you try to avoid grinding into Cyrus’ face, too embarrassed to do so with him. Instead, your legs begin to tremble eagerly. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud yell and come, gasping and panting with each flick of Cyrus’ tongue inside of you. Your orgasm eventually ends, and you begin to pant in recovery while Cyrus pulls away, gently releasing your legs. You hear him breathing heavily as well, likely to get some air after his work on you.

As the both of you come down from your activity, Mom finally climaxes as well, but she restrains her own voice and lets out a throated, womanly groan, throwing her head back and gritting her teeth while grinning deliciously. When her pleasure subsides, she giggles and removes her hand from her panties, licking up her own juices from her hand, much to your disgust.

“Did you like it, One?” Mom teases her Number while still lightly panting, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her question seems loaded, with Cyrus knowing full well he can’t say no to her. “Did she taste as sweet as you wanted?”

“…Yes Mom,” her Number predictably responds like a lapdog. You can see in his face that he’s conflicted, his blue eyes narrowing as he slowly wipes his face of your juices.

“Good boy,” his doctor praises him. She then turns to you. “I don’t even have to ask what you thought, Ten. I heard just how much you liked his tongue. It’s one of my favorite things about him, you know. He used to be so hesitant before I trained him.”

She giggles gleefully, making Cyrus wince. Mom then looks at her Number and asks him sweetly,

“One, please straddle our guest for Mommy, won’t you?”

“Yes Mom,” Cyrus obliges her again. Still avoiding meeting your eyes, Cyrus kneels on the bed with each leg on either side of your body, straddling you as instructed. It feels strange being in this position with him, but you can’t help but blush as you feel his warmth and his weight on top of you. As Cyrus settles onto your body, you refuse to look his way, still embarrassed by what’s happening.

Mom eventually rises, grabbing the bottle of lube from the counter and stepping slowly over to where you two are. She caresses Cyrus’ cheek with the back of her cleaner hand.

“Good boy!” she praises him again. “Now, take your shirt off for Mommy, okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And Ten, watch closely.” Mom notices that you’re avoiding your gaze, and now you have to oblige her as well. You do so hesitantly.

Cyrus takes one hand from its place by his side and lifts up his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. He hesitates for a moment, but continues with his task and starts to pull off his shirt entirely, exposing his pale chest to you. His arms being raised allows Mom to move in and slowly tug down his pants and his underwear. Cyrus leaves his shirt by where he’d been resting and remains in silence as Mom does her part, exposing his somewhat raised cock to you which looks strangely different than most others you’ve seen. It’s got the usual shape, only it looks as though it has a covering of skin over the tip that isn’t closed at the very end. It isn’t super noticeable or loose, and it really doesn’t look much different than any other penis you’ve seen if only except for the fact that the redder tip you’re used to is covered by skin just enough to hide it.

Mom opens the bottle of lube and pours a little in her hand before placing the bottle on the ground. She begins to stroke Cyrus’ shaft to get him off, much to your embarrassment. The skin on his head pulls back and exposes his tip more as she works him.

“It’s no different than any other, pretty princess” Mom assures you sweetly as she sees you eyeing the thing with a bit of confusion. “It’s just uncut, but it works the same as any other cute little cock. You just have to be a little more careful with it. But it’s because of how different than the others it is that I cherish it more. It makes me feel like I have something special that nobody else does. Either way, my cutie boy knows how to work me, and I know how to work him.”

She grins.

“And, undoubtedly, he’ll know just how to work you.”

You wince at hearing her say this, but don’t respond.

“Oh, and how cute!” Mom giggles. “He got a little hard from just tasting you. I suppose my cutie One enjoyed your pretty little noises of pleasure just as much as I did, Ten.”

You drop your eyes to the side, blushing at this teasing of you. You’re sure Cyrus’ body only responded the way most bodies do, even when the individual isn’t actually aroused and into it. You’ve endured that many times before, so you don’t doubt that others have too.

Mom continues to rhythmically and gently stroke Cyrus’ cock, making it harder against his will. He refuses to speak or look at you, but you can see him balling his fists as he holds in whatever pleasure he’s feeling from being stroked. You figure he wants to restrain himself as much as you do.

Eventually, Mom finishes her stimulation of her Number and drops her hand, satisfied with the fully raised, wet member. She then moves forward to take hold of your gown near your neck with both hands and rips into it, tearing it open down the middle and in the sleeves to fully expose your body to Cyrus. You gasp, balling your fists again as you’re forced to be open to him. You want to shout in protest, but know doing so will only make Mom angry.

“One,” she leans into Cyrus’ ear and speaks quietly, sweetly. “Use her. Start slow if you want, but do as I tell you when I want you to do it. Okay?”

“…Yes, Mom.” Cyrus answers her the same again, but his voice sounds a little bit different this time, hesitant and restrained.

Quietly, Cyrus’ doctor moves back to her stool, sitting with her gartered legs spread open yet again. She takes the dildo this time and moves her underwear aside, preparing to place her toy inside of her. You avoid looking at her more as you feel Cyrus spread your legs widely, positioning his body over you quietly. He presses one hand on the bed on one side of your head to steady himself while he guides the other to your labia, gently spreading your folds open so that he can enter you. Before he does, Cyrus finally looks at you with his aqua eyes, hesitant and almost sorrowful. He lowers his brows slightly, contemplating for a moment what to tell you. Eventually, he leans into your ear.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says before kissing your cheek gently.

You widen your eyes and blush, but are then left feeling yourself being penetrated by Cyrus’ cock as he pushes his way inside of you. You gasp as you feel his warmth move into you slowly, your hands trembling as you feel every inch of him moving through you, his breath hitting your face as he focuses on your body. Once he’s fully entered you, Cyrus moves his hand from your crotch to the other side of your head and begins to thrust slowly into you, grunting lightly as he does. You press your head back into your pillow as he begins to ride you, whimpering and gasping slightly with each motion.

You can see from beside you that Mom has already begun to masturbate with the dildo, the wet noises from it unavoidably echoing throughout the room. She continues to make her glazed-over face, groaning and panting with delicious pleasure as she watches Cyrus thrust into you. Seeing her makes you ill, but you feel Cyrus’ hand gently guide your head by your cheek back toward him.

“Ignore her,” he quietly tells you with a hushed, soft voice. “Focus on me.”

You gasp again as you feel him thrust into you once more, but you manage to give a nod to show that you’ve heard him. You continue to be ridden gently by your companion, blushing wildly at his sex as he makes wide, darling strides into you. He occasionally lets out a few groans and pants, but otherwise continues to try restraining himself, both to avoid embarrassing you, and to avoid pleasing his doctor.

“One, go faster now,” Mom breathily commands. “You’ve got the pleasantries out of the way. Show her what you can really do.”

Cyrus grimaces at her words, but he focuses himself again on you and begins to pick up his pace inside of you as commanded, pumping in and out of your pussy with wet slapping noises emanating from your bodies with each contact. He begins to pant more, while you start to moan uncontrollably, tightening your fists more strongly as you’re ridden.

“Oh…!” You moan, shivering with pleasure. “I…I can’t…!”

You hear Mom chuckling gleefully from beside you as she rides her dildo in a sleazy, messy manner, but you aren’t able to focus too hard on her with Cyrus pounding into you and finally letting a few boyish moans of his own slip out.

“Kiss her pretty little neck and moan her name,” Mom commands Cyrus between her own grunts and wet thrusts. “Make her want you.”

Cyrus folds his arms, placing his forearms down flat on the bed and leaning in closer to you while he continues to pump deeply into you, panting and grunting with each thrust. As instructed, he begins to kiss your neck sweetly, stopping for a moment on your neck with each kiss to breathe heavily and steadily through his nose in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ten…" he moans lovingly between his breathy pecks, making your body shiver with pleasure.

“Good boy…” Mom breathes with an enamored smile. “Now make her yours.”

Cyrus slowly ceases his work on your neck and continues to pump his cock into you, constantly checking your face to make sure that he’s not hurting you. However, all he can see is your eyes glazed over with pleasure with your mouth hanging open lazily as you gasp and moan. Cyrus tries to reach back with each arm, one at a time, to help you wrap your legs around him as he thrusts deeper and faster into you. The shift in position lets you feel the pleasure even more strongly now, and you can’t help but wail loudly as you start to feel your body giving into lust entirely, knowing that you’re ready to come. Unable to think or help yourself, you begin to cry out,

“C…y…”

Before you can finish saying his name, Cyrus quickly presses his lips against yours while breathing heavily through his nose to keep up his pace. You hadn’t even realized your mistake this time, but Mom seems not to have noticed, wrapped up in her own pleasure.

As Cyrus continues to pump his cock into you, refusing to let your mouth go, you yell muffledly into him with pleasure. You finally come, bucking your hips eagerly into Cyrus and grinding into him desperately despite having wanted to restrain yourself earlier. He eventually begins to climax as well, his cock throbbing eagerly inside you as he pumps more and more. In moments, he pulls away from your mouth, and gives a loud grunt and groan as he comes inside of you, pumping his hot cum into your pussy with every wild thrust of his body.

You hear Mom climaxing as well at the sight of you two in ecstasy with one another, quickening the pace of her hand as it grips the dildo inside of her. She again throws her head back and grunts through her throat, letting a loud yell slip out accidentally. She grits her teeth but smiles wickedly, almost laughing as she fixates her lustful eyes on the both of you.

As You and Cyrus finally calm down, you both pant heavily with one another, blushing as you stare into each other’s eyes with rising and falling chests. Cyrus eventually hangs his head and sucks in a huge breath of air, trying to compose himself to speak. Struggling, he grips the sheets beneath his hands and pants.

“Ten…I’m-“

Before he can finish saying what he wants to, a few loud, rapid knocks are heard from behind the door to the examination room, and all three of you promptly whip your heads in the direction of the door with wide eyes and jumping hearts.

“Shit,” Mom pants, pulling the dildo out of her and wiping away the excess juices. “God damn it, I wasn’t done here!”

She moves her lacy underwear back in place and leaves the dildo on the floor. As she makes her move, Cyrus takes the opportunity to slowly pull himself out of you, pulling his pants back up and shifting himself off of you. He instead turns his body and kneels forward on the bed, resting on his calves while he watches his doctor and the door intently, but with confusion. The hard knocking comes yet again, and Mom answers back sternly,

“Just a second!”

She quickly grabs her blouse and throws it on, then shimmies herself back into her sleek pencil skirt. As Mom slips back into her heels, the knocking comes again, even more loudly.

“Alright, I’m on my fucking way!” Mom shouts back, angrily walking toward the door. When she reaches it, the thing surprisingly slides open. You’re not sure how exactly these doors work, but it seems as though they can lock from the outside and still be opened from inside without needing to be accessed by a keypad or even a button. Yet, you’re sure they can lock you in without letting you do the same. Perhaps there’s a sensor that indicates this, but you’re unsure.

Once the door has fully slid open, it reveals, to your shock, a cleanup worker. Quietly, they raise their black, gloved hand and pull their finger toward themselves in a come-hither motion to Mom.

“Shit…the bastard was on shift after all, wasn’t he?” Mom questions aloud, her tone growing more stressed and frustrated. “I thought I had more time! This isn’t fair! You can’t just do this to me in the middle of-”

She stops herself a moment in contemplation, balling her fists angrily as she watches the worker repeat their beckoning motion. In a fury, she punches the worker, knocking them down to the floor. You look on with wide eyes and gasp at the sight, surprised both at how strong Mom is, and how she, without thinking, assaulted a worker.

While the unfortunate person is knocked down, Mom stomps her sharp heels on their stomach.

“You lousy, interrupting piece of SHIT!” The frenzied woman screams. You are unable to see her face, but you shudder to think of what it looks like.

After a few more stomps, Mom calms herself down and backs off, inhaling deeply and fixing her hair before slowly exhaling. The worker, although stumbling, manages to pick themselves up again. They strangely made no noise when being hurt, nor do they make any noise now. Instead of reacting in hurt or anger, the worker merely repeats their come-hither motion, though their posture is slightly crooked now as they hold their stomach with one hand. Evidently, they’re in pain, yet they refuse to acknowledge it.

“Fine,” Mom sucks her frustration up. “Let’s get this over with.”

She turns around to face you and Cyrus, her pink lips widening into a lively smile as if nothing had happened.

“Seems our time’s up,” she giggles. “Maybe it’s better that way. You do have a shot scheduled tomorrow, One. You’ll need your rest.”

She points down to the ground.

“Both of you stay here,” she commands. “I’ll be locking you in for a while. Do anything you like, even each other, but don’t do anything stupid that you’ll regret. Understand?”

Neither you nor Cyrus have the ability to respond, having no real idea how to react to what you’ve just witnessed. You at least both nod to Mom, and so she says nothing more as she follows the worker with her heels clacking loudly and angrily against the hard floor. Once she’s gone, the door shuts, and a few moments later, locks.

“…W-what the fuck was that about?” You question Cyrus shakily, but he seems not to have any idea either. With the moment now having passed, he grabs his shirt and quietly gets off of the bed, rounding the back of it. You hear him dressing himself again, then feel him untying your ribbony bonds. In moments you’re finally able to move freely.

“Thanks…” you mutter, sitting up and folding your arms over your nude body. You look down in embarrassment as everything that has happened on this bed finally hits you, but you’re distracted by Cyrus moving to your side of the bed and wrapping your body with Mom’s forgotten lab coat.

“It’s not pleasant, I know,” He looks away. “But it’ll cover you.”

“Thank you,” you try to smile for him, but Cyrus seems to be unaffected by it as he moves back toward his side of the bed. You’re sure he’s plagued by running thoughts, but you don’t exactly blame him.

“I…didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asks worriedly, unsure of what else to really say. You shake your head.

“I’m okay,” you promise him. “You were gentle. And…I didn’t hate it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Cyrus tiredly climbs back on the bed and lies down, exhaling as he does so.

“That’s a bit of an issue, then,” he tells you, almost blushing. “I…kind of liked it too. The parts of it that weren’t just me following orders, anyway.”

“The circumstances weren’t really ideal,” you remind him, your hands shaking slightly. “But there wasn’t much we could have done.”

Cyrus turns his head to you with a slightly raised brow.

“You’re taking this incredibly well,” he comments with concern. You hold the coat tightly around your body and try to laugh, but it comes out like a weak, soft chuckle.

“I feel a little better because it was you,” you admit, blushing slightly. “I trust you, Cyrus. I know you won’t hurt me on purpose.”

You glance over to him, but he seems to be looking away in contemplation.

“…There’s another reason too,” you hesitantly speak up, frowning slightly. “I feel bad admitting it, but it wasn’t really my first time with another Number.”

“It wasn’t?”

“I won’t tell you who because I don’t think they want me saying, but no. But this was different. When I did it before, it was on my terms. But this time…”

You turn to Cyrus with worry in your eyes.

“Are you…upset at me?” You ask him. “Or disappointed?”

Cyrus shifts his gaze around as he thinks of how to answer, but ultimately shakes his head.

“No, I’m not” he says simply. “I don’t think ill of people with a history. Saving sex as something special with someone you care about isn’t really much of a choice we have down here. We do it every day with people we hate. It’s special when we do it with someone we care about, but the act itself isn’t really new to us.”

You finally decide to lay back down as well, first sticking your arms through the coat sleeves and buttoning up the garment so that your hands can be free. You feel comfortable being clothed, but uneasy because the clothing is Mom’s. And, even with the thing wrapped around your body, some of your flesh pokes through regardless. You almost wish you had Yosuke’s coat again instead with how much more it covered you, but you don’t want to have to let the thought of him interrupt your time right now.

“Cyrus…” you look over at the young man who stares at you with listening intent. “I’m so sorry this happened. If she had seen us together only once, maybe we’d have been fine. But she saw us before too, when you were helping me out of the garden after we talked about Jade. I saw her, but you didn’t. I should have said something.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cyrus reassures you. He places his hand over yours, making you widen your eyes slightly. “This was bound to happen to someone. I’ve never had it happen to me, but…I’d rather it had been me. I don’t think the others could handle it.

He closes his eyes.

“You have no idea what fear and guilt I was feeling when I first saw you and after everything ended. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to feel that.”

“Cyrus, we have to tell everyone,” You state firmly. “We have to warn them about this. Five and Six worried that it might happen if word got around that they were together, and now that we know it can, we have to make it known.”

“But in doing so, I’m going to have to mention why I know that it can happen,” Cyrus opens his eyes again and shifts them away from you. “I’ll tell everyone when I’m actually conscious enough to from my shot, but I won’t mention you. I might have to avoid telling Violet altogether, though. She’ll probably go insane if I do, and then try to figure out who it was I had to sleep with. She’ll hone in on you for sure, and then all hell will break loose. I don’t really want that. I don’t want anything that’s happened here to change anything that happens out there.”

You refrain from reminding him about his need to talk to Violet about her dependency, knowing that Cyrus already has a lot to deal with right now. Instead, you agree with him, then try to change the subject. You’re sure talking to Cyrus now about anything will help distract him from what has just occurred between you two.

“Is Mom really like that when she’s angry?” You ask.

“She can be,” Cyrus answers you honestly. “She can be pushy, bossy, loud, screeching, all of it, like a child. Sometimes she’s even a little rough, but not anywhere near as rough as others. She’s not much of a choker, so her doing it took me by surprise. And I’ve never really seen her punch someone out. I didn’t even know she could. She always carries herself like some dainty, fragile woman, but she can be really fucking scary. What she did to that worker was actually…surprising. Horrifying.”

“I feel bad for them,” You admit. “But it’s weird how they don’t make noise. It’s a little creepy.”

“I’m mostly shocked I even got to see one up close,” Cyrus grunts as he shifts his position on the bed to face you on his side. “I’ve only heard stories. I usually pass out before they show up.”

You’re suddenly reminded of his behavior earlier, in the crafts room. Remembering it now makes you worry for his mental health, for his safety in general.

“Cyrus, about that…” You start, shifting yourself on your side as well to face him “…You said some pretty weird things before you passed out in the crafts room earlier.”

“Like what?”

“Just…concerning things. You sounded really pessimistic and depressing. You mentioned dying. I got really worried, you know?”

Cyrus looks down.

“I’m not usually around other people aside from my doctor when I’m losing consciousness. But…we let a lot of subconscious thoughts slip out when we’re under the influence of something,” he explains. You blush at his words, remembering your time being drunk.

“I promise, I’m okay,” Cyrus goes on, squeezing your hand which you’d almost forgotten he was holding in your focus of him. “I do feel negative things. That’s unavoidable. Being what I set out to be is mentally taxing, but I try very hard to keep myself in check by doing the activities I do: meditating, running, reading, all of it. Even Violet helps me with it sometimes. And being around everyone else, spending time with them? That helps me too. I know how dangerous this is, Ten. Believe me. I’ve seen it hurt others.”

You look away when you realize he means Jade.

“Are you telling me the truth?” You ask him quietly. “Are you really okay?”

Cyrus looks down, but squeezes your hand again.

“Yes.”

The both of you stay silent for a while after this, unsure of what else to say to one another.

“What do you think’s going to happen to Mom?” You finally ask, trying to shift focus. Cyrus shrugs.

“Maybe nothing, which is unlikely given that she probably pissed her boss off,” he mulls it over. “It’s either that, a light punishment, or complete removal. But if she leaves, I don’t know what’ll happen to me. Either I get another doctor like Eight, or I move. I don’t know if it’s even a possibility, but maybe I would be transferred elsewhere, worst-case scenario.”

“Don’t say that!” You shake your head, glaring at Cyrus. “You won’t leave. You can’t!”

Cyrus pulls his hand back from yours and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, making a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “I keep scaring you. I promise, I won’t leave, okay?”

You don’t really respond, feeling yourself unsure of what to say to him. To your surprise, he reaches over with both arms to pull you closer to him while moving his body closer as well.

“Is this alright?” He asks you. “I thought it might make you feel better.”

You look at him in surprise, but eventually nod, leaning into his chest as you had with Lav.

“It does make me feel a little better,” you weakly answer him, feeling woozier now, but peaceful in Cyrus’ warmth. You realize that you’re both being drugged again the more you feel your body and mind becoming groggier and lighter. Within a few moments, your ability to think or speak diminishes, and you feel your eyes beginning to close.

“Cy…rus…” you trail off, growing more and more woozy, and feeling your eyelids starting to droop.

Before your body gives in to exhaustion, you feel Cyrus hold you closer to him, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

Chapter 29: Rest Fourteen - Uncertain

Again, you wake up peacefully and without interruption. You half expect to be back in your own examination room, but you seem to have been returned to your bedroom. You’re unsure whether you slept long enough for it to be the next day or not, but you’re almost glad to be back in your own plush bed among your cream sheets. For as many awful things have gone on in this bed, you admit it’s very comforting to wake up in it as opposed to any other.

As Cyrus starts to cross your mind, you find yourself worrying about him over a variety of things. His mental health, his safety, and then his shot, which you recall Mom saying was today. You don’t know what anyone’s really like after a shot other than Lav, but even then, all you saw of her was when she was asleep. You also wonder how to take in everything that happened yesterday—you admittedly didn’t dislike being with Cyrus the same way you didn’t really dislike being with Lav, even though the circumstances by which you had sex between the both of them was far different. And being held by Cyrus afterward was as comforting as it had been with Lav because you knew he genuinely cared about you the way she did. But, you’re unsure if Cyrus likes you like Lav does. As it is, you’re not even sure if Lav likes you in a romantic way. Thinking about all of this makes your head hurt, especially when you stop to consider that Violet is still very much attached to Cyrus and that you have to dance around her too. You’re confused enough as it is with everything you’ve dealt with from the doctors. Everything in between is just extra stress on your already frazzled mind. You start to wonder whether you ever had a relationship with anyone before, but this makes the TV static feeling in your head pop up again, much to your annoyance.

Frustrated with your own thoughts, you try to push them aside and shift around in your bed, peeling away your rose comforter. You’re glad to find that you have your regular clothes on. You’re fairly curious about just how many spare clothes they really have here at the facility and where the dirty laundry even goes with no real doors around that might lead to a laundry room. Other than the stretch of hallway to the right of your door, there’s only two hallways beyond the one where the numbered rooms are that aren’t the one you’re familiar with, but you recall that they’ve both got double doors on them. You’d never really know what was behind those doors, but you’ve not seen or heard them open once while here, and nobody seems to have mentioned them.

With one quick grunt, you swing your legs over the bedside and move to rise, pushing off your bed and giving a long stretch of your back. You head to the restroom to brush your hair again, finding that it was at least a little comforting to take care of yourself the one time you were able to, rather than have someone like a doctor or worker do it for you. As it is, you can’t even remember the last time you showered and dressed yourself. You do notice while brushing that your hair has gotten slightly longer since you came to the facility. It takes a several more and longer strokes to really get it in line than you remember.

As you look in the mirror, you notice that the welts on your neck from Milos’ work on you have gone down exceptionally, though they’re still present somewhat and have become slightly green in color around certain parts of the skin. You don’t actually know how bad they got because you never had the opportunity to really look at yourself, and you’re not sure you would have liked to face yourself in the mirror with these things so fresh anyway. Certainly, the marks had to be severely off-putting if people seemed so concerned over it.

You dislike having to think of Milos again, but you know you can’t exactly run away from what happened either. You suppose it’s better to confront it and try to come to terms with it so you don’t freak out over everything that reminds you of him, but you still think you need time. You’re not sure why he was so exceptionally haunting to you when others have been a bit rough with you too. You wish you could really talk to someone about this stuff, but you don’t want to have to shove it all on Cyrus with how much he already has to juggle.

Eventually, you finish up what you set out to do and return to your bed, confused as to why nobody’s shown up to collect you yet. You start to suspect that you may have woken up far too early. Though you have no real sense of time, something about the atmosphere does feel slightly different. You lay back down across the bed and stare at the ceiling, still feeling a bit tired after all and only confirming your suspicions that it’s far too early. Before you know it, you fall asleep again, and it’s not until you hear a voice in your ear that you snap awake.

“Darling,” it whispers. “Wake up.”

You feel a hand, gently caressing your cheek, and as you open your eyes, you feel lips pressing themselves against yours as you lay there. When you fully come to, you realize that Yosuke is hovering over you, pressing his other hand against the bed. His legs are between yours which had dangled over the bedside as you laid back, and his leaned-in body is pressed slightly against you as he kisses you. Within moments of seeing that you’ve awoken, your doctor finally pulls back. He smiles gently at you, watching as your face blushes in response to his kiss and his closeness.

“Yosuke…!” You speak out with surprise. You hadn’t expected to see him at all, in fact it’d been a while since you really had to think about him outside of during your conversation in the theater. Though you were slightly grateful for this break from him, seeing him now makes your heart feel lighter.

Yosuke chuckles at you as he sees your eyes light up.

“I’ve missed you, my pet,” he coos, sliding his hand down your cheek and removing it. “But I’m not here for a visit. It’s morning and I have to take you to the hall. I said I’d be here in the morning, don’t you remember?”

“I forgot,” you admit, looking away for a moment. You’ve been far too busy thinking of a slew of other things.

Yosuke leans back and offers you his hand, which you begrudgingly take. He carefully helps you stand up, then holds you close to him. He continues to gently hold your hand in his, but your other is pressed against his chest as he uses his other arm to keep your body against his. You don’t exactly want to be held by him right now, but you know you aren’t really in any position to say so, and you’re especially not in the mood to be teased for fighting. Yosuke’s body heat, however, is a little bit welcoming and comforting to you, which you sorely dislike admitting. You know you like to be held given the awful things you have to endure, but being held by Yosuke always reminds you that you’re his hostage, even when you find yourself comfortable in his embrace purely by touch alone.

As you look up and see your doctor more clearly in the light, you’re shocked to see dark circles weighing heavily under his eyes. Even the dark frame of his glasses can’t entirely hide the things.

“Your eyes!” You observe with shock, and not necessarily concern. “They’re…”

“I haven’t been sleeping,” Yosuke admits with a slight smile after you trail off. “It’s nothing new for me. But when I say I work, I mean I work. Keeping this place running aboveground requires a lot of effort.”

“What do you mean?” You narrow your eyes. “You act like you have to work so much to front for a sex slave operation.”

“I never said what we set out to do was only this,” Yosuke reminds you, tightening his grip on your hand. “We still have to try somewhat, even though what we present ourselves as is false. But there’s far more to it than just playing pretend, my pet. You don’t know very much. Frankly, you don’t need to.”

He then moves your hand, palm up, toward his cheek and leans into it, closing his eyes.

“You know, my urge to see you has added to my restlessness,” he tells you, changing the topic. You almost want to recoil your hand, but he seems to have a firm grip on it. Yosuke then opens his olive eyes again and stares at you directly, smiling slightly.

“I’ve been craving you, my dear,” he says openly. “It won’t be long before I can play with you again.”

You wince and look away, but Yosuke pulls your body in closer, tighter against his.

“Please stop, I need to breathe,” You beg him quietly, balling your hand against his chest as your lungs struggle to fill with air. Your doctor obliges you and lets you go, allowing you to breathe easier. You look down, avoiding his gaze, but he moves his hand toward the top of your gown, which you realize had shifted down as you were pressed up against him and has now slightly exposed your chest scar. Yosuke pulls down the fabric just slightly with one hand enough to expose the uppermost part of your chest fully and runs two fingers from his other hand along the cut there.

“Did Micah do this?” Yosuke asks you curiously. You nod, and your doctor pulls your gown back up, pulling his hands away from you again. He rubs his temples with one hand and groans slightly.

“I told him not to do anything stupid,” he grumbles. “I suppose he at least didn’t go overboard.”

Yosuke lowers his hand and lays his olive eyes on you again.

“Did you at least enjoy your visit with him otherwise? I’m sure he utilized one of the other rooms you haven’t seen before.”

“No,” you grimace as you give him your stern answer. “But you know how little I like most of my visits.”

“And what about Mom?” Yosuke continues. You half-expected him to tease you about your statement, but he seems to be pretty dazed himself given his exhaustion. Though he’s still speaking to you in much the same way as he normally does, you’re sure your doctor is a little out of sorts. Something seems very off about him now. You would almost pity him if only he weren’t so cruel to you.

“You saw her last night, I think,” he mulls it over. “I really don’t remember much about the call she gave me since I was already pretty dead tired by then.”

“…No,” you shake your head in answer to his question. “I especially told you I don’t like her.”

You again remember your encounter with Cyrus and remain silent about what really happened. You don’t want to believe that Mom would really hurt him if you were to tell Yosuke what she did, but you’re sure that she wasn’t playing around when she choked him. Even Cyrus had said he was surprised by it.

“Yosuke…” You rub your forehead. “I’m just tired. I’m so tired of being hurt, confused. My body is sore, my brain is scrambled, my feelings are all over the place…”

You look up at him with woeful eyes.

“…Please, can’t I just have a break?”

Yosuke chuckles at you in amusement and pets your head.

“You have today off, Ten,” he readily tells you. “I figured you’d be feeling worn out. We both are. But I’m not heartless, you know. I do intend to take care of you, so you have today to rest.”

You almost want to be glad that you have at least one day off, but you have no chance to dwell on the positive news. Yosuke shows his usual colors as he grabs your chin and lifts it up so that you’re forced to face him, then pulls your body closer to his again.

“I’ll still be seeing you very soon, though,” he warns playfully, leaning in. “So be ready.”

He gives you a quick but gentle kiss, making you gasp and shudder slightly as you feel your body against his. When Yosuke pulls back, he looks at you for a moment as if in contemplation. However, he immediately drops his hand from you and releases you entirely.

“Let’s get going,” Yosuke speaks up, outstretching his hand again. You take it hesitantly, trying to forget about his warmth on your lips and letting him guide you out of your room and into the hallway. Though you feel uneasy with Yosuke around again, you are a little grateful that he’s escorting you instead of Mom. Comforted, even.

You’re honestly afraid to face her after everything that’s happened. You start to wonder if she’s even still around at all, but you’re able to confirm that she is not too long after you ask yourself this. When you and Yosuke reach the gate and your doctor gives his usual hard knocks on the records office doorframe, you can hear a familiar cough that you know is Mom’s. A part of you is glad that someone didn’t have to die, even if it is a doctor, but another part of you scorns that she’s still alive to torment you.

The metal gate grinds open again, and you instinctively enter. Yosuke gives you his goodbyes before disappearing around the corner of the hall as usual. Now that you’ve been released, you try to put him aside. For a moment, you want to look for Cyrus to try talking to him about what happened, but you remind yourself that he’s going to be out of commission for a little while. At the very least, you silently hope that he’ll recover safely. You wonder just when your shot is going to happen, and what can really be expected from it other than the grogginess Yosuke mentioned. You don’t suppose a needle in the brain would feel pleasant afterward. You don’t know anatomy and physiology enough to fully remember if the brain is a muscle of some kind or not, but you hope it doesn’t feel as painful and sore upon being shot up by a needle the way the muscles in your arm or leg do. The thought of the pain and of Yosuke’s finger pressing into the back of your skull sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself folding your arms and holding them to your body with unease as you make your way down the hall.

Curious to see whether Eight’s been around, you head into the Library first. The blue floor there reminds you of Cyrus again, and you feel your heart drop as you let yourself worry about how he’s doing. However, you see that nobody’s really around, so you try your hand at the music room. When the doors open, you’re pleased to hear that there’s noise, but it isn’t a violin. Instead, you hear what you think is a flute and a harp, or at least something like it. The song these instruments are attempting to play is sweet, but both instruments sound a little out of tune, primarily the flute. You don’t suppose there’s any real way to make a harp or any instrument like it sound terribly bad without intentionally knowing how to, or at least you don’t think. In a way, both instruments are harmoniously out of tune, producing a finely paired sound that’s simultaneously displeasing to the ears. It’s just off enough to be unpleasant, but not off enough to be ear gratingly bad. The harp at least sounds at least somewhat practiced.

Curious as to who’s producing this noise, you pop in and wander behind the large shelf by the door only to see Five and Six together. Five’s got some kind of stringed instrument in her hands that is about as tall as most of her torso, and is sitting in a chair with it in her lap while holding it close to her body with one hand. The thing doesn’t look at all like a traditional harp, so you almost want to assume it’s not one after all.

Standing just in front of and to the right of Five is Six, with her back turned toward you. In her hands is a sleek metal flute which she has pressed closely to her, you assume, lips. After a few ill notes, she stops playing and throws her head back.

“Ugh!” She groans. “Why can’t I get this right?”

“You just need to practice, honey,” Five chuckles, continuing to pluck a random melody on the strings of her instrument and filling the room with gentle sounds. She stops, however, when she plucks a few wrong notes of her own.

“Damn.”

As she shuffles around in her seat, she finally catches sight of you from beside the large cabinet and smiles widely.

“Ten!” She calls you over, motioning for you to get closer. This causes Six to turn, her scowling, red face loosening as she catches sight of you with her brown eyes.

“Oh, hey Ten,” She greets you coolly as you approach both girls. “Uh, you haven’t been standing there long, have you?”

“I just got in,” you laugh at her attempt to hide her frustrated demeanor. “I went to the library a little bit ago to see if anyone was there, but nobody was.”

“It’s been pretty quiet around here today,” Five tells you, resting her free hand in her lap. “We haven’t really seen much of anyone yet. I was the first one here, and Peaches eventually followed. We’ve just been trying to play a song together.”

“Not very well,” Six pouts. “But we’re working on it.”

“I said you need to practice,” Five looks at her and gives a polite laugh. “I do too, actually.”

“What are you even playing?” You chime in curiously, eyeing the deep brown color of the wooden thing in Five’s hand.

“A lyre,” she tells you. “It’s kind of like a harp, I suppose, but it isn’t really one. I started to pick it up a while ago because I liked the gentle sounds, but I’m far from perfect. It is really relaxing to play, though.”

“I don’t know how to play anything myself,” Six adds. “I like the flute, I just suck hard at it even after practicing. And it’s annoying because I’m usually pretty good at picking things up.”

“You’ll get it eventually,” her partner smiles warmly. She then turns to you. “Are you doing okay, Ten?”

“A little,” you look down. “I’ve been dealing with this and that. I’m just trying to make sense of things, that’s really all.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let us know,” Five smiles at you. You sorely want to, but you simultaneously would feel bad horning in on her and Six’s time together with your problems.

“But I’m sorry nobody’s here to really help you other than us,” five goes on. “Like I said, it’s been quiet. I’m not sure where everyone’s at now.”

“I know Cyrus is getting his shot today,” You casually mention. “I overheard Mom mention he was due.”

You hope that that’s a good enough excuse for you to have known about it. You almost feel embarrassed that you casually let that knowledge slip out when it could have outed you as suspicious. You’re not sure why you feel guilty about having been with Cyrus, but you suppose you feel like it’s another secret you have to keep as with the twins and Lav.

“Yikes, that’s stuff’s never really fun to go through,” Six shivers. “I hate feeling all groggy and tired after a shot. I can still process things, but everything just feels slower.”

“Have you had yours yet?” Five asks you, but you shake your head.

“I’m honestly a little worried about how it’s gonna go,” you admit sheepishly, sitting on the floor before both girls. “I was told it’s painful but that I’m going to be asleep for it.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Six assures you with a shrug. “You just pass out, wake up, and you feel like shit for a few days. You can still talk and think, you just feel like you have a mental fog over your brain until you just don’t anymore.”

“Worst case, you just have to be watched over a lot,” Five adds. “Your motor skills might be a little wonky and you’ll basically be like a child. You might throw up too. I did my first few times. But, after a while of being shot up, it really won’t phase you as badly. The exhaustion and grogginess never really stop being side effects, but most other things do.”

You rub the back of your neck with unease at hearing this, but you’re at least a little glad it isn’t super painful after the fact. Though, you’re not entirely thrilled to hear about the other potentially unpleasant side effects.

“What is it even for?” You ask both girls, but they sort of look at each other with uncertainty before looking back at you.

“We have no idea,” Five admits, lowering her instrument and placing it in her lap. “We’re pretty sure it has something to do with your memory only because we’ve seen a few cases where people suddenly can’t remember little things they did before being injected. Sometimes that memory comes back, but other times it’s just gone. It’s usually insignificant things, though. I once apparently watched Six win a game just before a shot of mine, but had no memory of it the next time I woke up. I eventually remembered it later.”

“If they have to do it so regularly, maybe it’s just like a booster shot,” you suppose. “On top of whatever the hell else it is they do to your head to keep you from remembering things. But…that’s really fucking scary. All of this is.”

“It’s also kind of confusing,” Six ponders. “It messes with your short-term memory a bit, but it doesn’t really seem to do much else. We have no idea what it’s for because of how little it really impacts you other than leaving you temporarily groggy. Unless it has an effect we don’t notice. If the shot messes with your memory, then I don’t doubt it does something we don’t realize.”

“Blue thinks it’s just a medicine to keep you stupid,” Five laughs. “But Eight’s still smart, and a smart-ass despite being injected regularly, so we don’t think her theory is true.”

“Whatever it’s for, it’s a pain,” Six grumbles as she removes the flute’s mouthpiece and peeks inside the cylindrical tube as if checking for something. “It’s every so often that they collect you for it, and it always leaves you feeling shitty. It’s a real inconvenience.”

“Has anyone ever woken up during the procedure?” You question worriedly, the idea of this making your stomach churl. Luckily, neither girl confirms that it’s happened.

“God forbid if anyone were to,” Five shudders. “I would imagine it’d hurt a lot. I’ve never seen the needle they use, but I’ve been told it’s fairly long compared to a regular one”

Silence falls between you three, and so the girls take this as an indication to play their instruments again. As you listen to them attempt to make some sort of a song while occasionally stopping to express their frustrations at wrong notes, your mind wanders to the events from yesterday. You want to warn the girls that the worries they expressed back at the pool are justified, but you don’t think Cyrus would want you to be the one to say something about it to them. You also wonder how Lav would react to knowing that you slept with someone other than her. You’re not sure how special she saw sex with you as since she was so casual about it, but you’d hate to make her sad if she genuinely cared so much. Cyrus had seemed very casual about knowing he wasn’t your first Number, but he seemed crushed to have to do anything to you to begin with. You don’t know how attached your other, female friend really is. You feel like you owe it to her to explain that you had done something, especially since you need to try taking time to clarify both of your feelings with her. But you’re not really sure when the appropriate time would be to do so.

The music suddenly stops again as Six stomps her foot on the ground.

“Argh!” She groans frustratedly. “I think I need to read the instructions more.”

“Calm down, sweetie,” Five gently puts a hand on Six’s arm. “Take a break if you need.”

“Yeah, alright,” Six heaves a heavy sigh and drops her flute to her side. She gives Five a quick peck on the lips, making you blush. You’re not sure if you should be here at all right now with them being so intimate and focused on one another, but they don’t seem to mind you.

Six eventually sits down in front of you, facing Five, with you sitting just to her left.

“You sure you okay?” She asks you upon seeing your face. Evidently your expression was still wrought with intense concentration, only your cheeks have grown significantly more red.

“Y-yeah,” you half-lie, scratching the back of your head. “Like I said, I’ve just got a lot to think about, that’s all.”

You take a moment to think of something else to talk about, and your mind wanders to yesterday’s events before your visit started.

“Have you guys seen any of the other boys around?” You question finally, looking up at Five mainly. Both girls look at one another with curious eyes, but they both seem to have no idea.

“No, I don’t think so,” Five answers you with concern. “I haven’t seen Two since a few days ago, and I haven’t really been looking for Eight. Haven’t run into him much either.”

“You think he’s gone?” Six cocks her head a bit. “Not like I’d be openly glad if he were or anything…but no, we haven’t really seen him or Two. Why?”

“Two didn’t show up with Three yesterday,” you admit. “She was crying her eyes out about it in the crafts room and I had to help her out. I was hoping you or anyone else had seen him recently so that I’d know she could stop worrying but…”

“It’s only been a day, maybe he’ll turn up,” Five remains optimistic. “He couldn’t have done anything to get himself in trouble, and he doesn’t get sick easily from what I know. He’s a healthy little guy.”

“Dunno about Eight though,” Six shrugs. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“A long while ago,” you answer her honestly, tucking some loose hair behind your ear. “The same day I was at the pool with you, actually.”

“That long?!” Five seems shocked. “Oh no…”

She turns to Six with a worried expression, but her partner does not appear to be particularly disturbed.

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” Six tries to assure you. “He is pretty reclusive, you know. He hides away regularly unless he’s in the mood to be in the same room as us.”

“I hope that’s the case,” you exhale, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Hey, maybe we should talk about something else,” Five chimes in as she sees you in your upset state. “You already have a lot you’re thinking about anyway. I wouldn’t want to stress you out more.”

“Oh hey, I’ve got something,” Six speaks up, leaning in. “You see that cardboard Jade in the crafts room? Did you do that with Three?”

“Yeah!” You try to smile, dropping your hand. You’re at least a little happy the girls want to help you move on. “I’ve been learning a lot about Jade, and Three seemed pretty upset about her on top of her brother, so I wanted to cheer her up. I helped her make it. Cyrus helped too, actually.”

“He did?” Five blinks at you curiously. “I’m surprised. He’s always been really hesitant about talking about her. Him and Three both, really, so I’m shocked she even mentioned her around you. Most of us don’t know that much about her relationship with Three other than that they hung around each other sometimes. We do also know that Cyrus and Jade talked a lot. She was a really sweet girl.”

“I keep hearing that,” you mention. “She seemed like she was the reserved type. But I also heard she got depressed.”

“She was really down,” Six recalls, looking at the floor. “We’re not sure when it really happened. I think it was just gradually and we didn’t really notice until it was starting to get really bad. She started smiling less and less and just started roaming around or staying in one place a lot and just staring at nothing, like she was too tired to do anything or say anything. We couldn’t really do much to help her. She would talk sometimes, but it was always stuff about how frustrated she felt being here. She occasionally tried to tell us she was fine and just tired, but we saw through that pretty quickly.”

“It hurt Cyrus the most because he was trying so much to help keep her together,” Five looks away, gripping the lyre in her lap tightly. “I feel so bad for him. It’s been a while since she left us, but we still do remember who she was. We do miss her, but sometimes I think maybe…”

Five bites her lip, contemplating whether to say what she was going to. However, she persists.

“…Maybe after all that suffering, she was just better off. And we can’t really ever say that to Cyrus or Three because we know it’ll hurt their feelings. We don’t want to do that to them, so we keep that stuff to ourselves. But we’re not the only ones who think it.”

You realize they have no idea that Cyrus ever loved Jade, but you don’t mention it whatsoever and elect to protect his secret. You also feel your heart drop as you hear Five suggest that Jade would have suffered less by dying. It’s not something you want to have to think about, but you don’t want to say it’s entirely untrue. Being in the facility is genuinely draining, frustrating, and traumatizing. You can’t blame anyone for feeling so negatively about it. Simultaneously, you don’t think just giving up is a good alternative, if it can be helped. You’re not sure whether you can say outright that Jade should have died if she was so hurt, but you really didn’t know her at all and feel underqualified make that call anyway.

“We don’t really even know if she’s dead,” Six shrugs, almost as if reading your mind. “Most of us just sort of assume she is, maybe even hope she is so that she’d have been freed of her hurt. But we won’t say it around Cyrus or Three. Like Peaches said, we don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

She sighs.

“But…anyway, the little cardboard doll you guys made of Jade was really sweet. I think of it as a nice way to immortalize her. She was important to us all, really. We cared about her.”

“Three put it next to the doll we made together, too,” Five chuckles. “I thought it was a sweet gesture.”

“She’s shy, but she does care about everyone,” you smile. “I’m glad you guys liked it. I mostly helped with the dress. I actually ended up cutting my fi-“

You widen your eyes and rapidly lift your hand up to check it. On your finger is the remnants of the now-closed cut where you accidentally sliced yourself with the scissors, but Cyrus’ cloth is absent. You’re both relieved that Yosuke didn’t see it, but strangely disappointed that it’s not there anymore.

“What’s up?” Six raises a brow. “You okay?”

“Oh…yeah,” You snap yourself back to the conversation. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

You spend the rest of the day with the two girls, trying to shake away everything from before. You feel a little guilty having to think and drag yourself along so much around them when they had only been trying to enjoy their time together. However, they conversely seem to want to help you forget about what you’re struggling with, so you’re coaxed into trying out an instrument for yourself. You’re given Five’s lyre to try, though you find you’re no more musically gifted than you are artistically. Even though she has made several mistakes in her notes, Five makes it look easy to pluck the lyre’s strings in rhythm. You, on the other hand, continue endlessly to pluck incorrectly, too softly, or too hard to really produce a good enough sound. You also struggle immensely to hold the thing in your lap without it sliding around everywhere on the smooth, soft fabric laying on your legs. You wonder just how much control Five really has on the thing for this to be no problem for her.

Both girls find your attempts to play the instrument amusing, but they don’t force you to keep going when they sense you growing a bit flustered at your failure. After a while, all three of you move toward the rec room to see if anyone else has come by, but nobody seems to have just yet. You end up staying together with the girls and going from messing around with the game tables in the room to curling up on the couch watching romantic films. You feel almost like you’re intruding on the two girls as they lean up against one another happily, but they constantly try to keep you in the conversation to make sure that you’re doing okay, which you’re silently grateful for.

Nobody else really seems to show up today, or else they’re in the other rooms and haven’t bothered to visit. You’re not really sure, but you don’t have the luxury of going to check, nor do you really feel like getting up to with how comfortable you are on the couch. The day eventually ends for you, with the intercom chiming in and announcing so. Five and Six let you go first, and so you leave them be to go meet with whoever is at the gate. Much to your dismay, it’s Mom.

Your heart sinks as you finally see her, a large red and purple bruise hanging just under her right eye and her lower lip slightly scarred. You can see the line even under her attempts to hide it with lipstick, and it extends just enough under her lip for it to be extremely obvious. You’re sure that whatever her boss did to her didn’t just stop at her face, but you can’t really tell with Mom being clothed. She doesn’t seem particularly reactive to your widening eyes, but she does start talking before you have a chance to.

“Did you have a good day, little princess?” She questions you sweetly as if nothing is wrong, caressing your cheek gently with the back of her hand. “Mommy’s been waiting for you. She wishes she could have seen you for a little longer yesterday, but maybe we’ll have a little fun some other time.”

You look away, unsure of what to say to Mom, but at least nod to acknowledge her. She giggles at you for a moment before walking off, gesturing for you to follow. You glance up at Cyrus’ room door when you pass it, wondering if he’s there. As you slowly pass by each other numbered door, you find yourself speaking up a little.

“Mom, is One okay?” You ask her worriedly, making her stop. “Is he hurt?”

“Of course he’s okay, Ten,” Mom almost chides you. “My darling boy is just asleep and catching up on his rest after his injection. That’s all.”

“And what about your face?” You continue to press her. “D-did your boss do that to you?”

Mom stays silent for a moment, but quickly whips herself around and slaps you hard on the face, making you yelp and step back.

“Don’t you DARE ask me that question!” Mom yells at you, her voice practically growling as she spits her words though her teeth. “It’s none of your fucking business. My face is completely fine, understand, little girl?”

She reaches out both her hands to your neck and pins you against the wall, just enough to keep you there but not necessarily choking you. However, the feeling of having her hands around your neck makes your body begin to shiver uncontrollably, and you can’t seem to stop it. Seeing this makes Mom’s furiously scowling expression ease up, her mouth slightly agape as she gazes upon you with surprise, rather than anger. She lets you go, but you feel your knees too weak to support you and so you fall to the floor, still shaking.

“I-I can’t stop it!” you shakily tell her, holding your arms. “…Why?!”

Quietly, Mom kneels down to face you, smiling sweetly again like before. She folds her arms and leans them on her knees while she’s crouched down.

“You’re afraid,” she teases. “How sweet, little girl.”

She leans in close to you and speaks softly, the gentleness in her voice hauntingly contradictory to you after her reaction just before.

“If you have to know, a little pain here and there is worth the risk of having my fun the way I want it.”

Mom pulls back and giggles.

“You’ll find that some of us like to spice things up sometimes,” she gleefully tells you. “So we do what we’re not supposed to so long as we know it won’t get us killed. It gives us a rush, makes us feel good. Such dangerous delights and seeking them out are part of being human, Ten. You could never understand.”

You’re not human! you want to tell her, but you instead stay silent, glaring up at her angrily while you continue to shake relentlessly. Mom giggles again, finding your expression amusing. She begins to lean in to kiss you, but is interrupted by the sounds of footsteps approaching.

“Mamulya!” You suddenly hear a voice call from down the hall to your right. Your heart jumps and begins to race as you recognize its gruff tone, and you look away from its direction at the ground, your hands and body shaking profusely, your knees pressing firmly against one another as you sit on the floor. Mom turns her head toward the voice’s direction and smiles.

“Simanek!” She cheerily returns the man’s call. “How darling! I haven’t seen you in some time.”

Milos approaches Mom and reaches a hand over to help her up.

“As lovely as ever, my Mamulya,” he greets her with a grin. Mom daintily takes his strong hand and lets him help her up. Milos kisses both of Mom’s cheeks after he does so. You’re able to see a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, so you shut both of them entirely to avoid having to look at him at all, clasping your hands together and holding them close to your head.

“What a gentleman!” Mom giggles. “Here to pick up your Number?”

“Naturally,” the man answers with unwavering jovialness. You assume he catches sight of you, because he immediately gives a bellowing laugh.

“My pup! Are you doing well?” he calls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You don’t like that you can’t control reacting to him like this, yet you don’t want to have to face him yet. You’re nowhere near ready.

“Help me with her, won’t you?” Mom babyishly pleads. “She seems to have forgotten how to use her legs.”

“Of course,” Milos chuckles. You feel your heart race faster and your eyes jolt open, your panicked lungs letting out a sharp gasp as Milos’ rough hands grab you by your waist and pull you upward until you’re standing on your own feet again. You breathe in and out sharply as you face him again, seeing his dark eyes narrow and his lips cock into a sly smirk.

“Let me go!” You cry, gripping his forearms and trying to rip them off you unsuccessfully. “Stop!”

“I’m only helping you up,” Milos assures you, lowering a dark brow. He then glances to his side at a rather amused Mom. “Like a rabbit she is, shaking and squirming so much!”

“I’ve never seen her like this!” Mom giggles with her fingers over her lips. “How cute!”

Milos lets go of your body and pulls away, but gently curls his thick, rough fingers under your chin.

“You’re very spoiled, Ten,” he chides you, still smirking through the dark hair around his mouth. “Your doctor shelters you too much. Remember that you can’t hide in the dark forever.”

Milos then drops your hand and turns to walk away toward the other hallway.

“I’ll be along soon to open the gate for you!” Mom calls endearingly after him.

“Ah, I’ll do it myself,” Milos raises a hand and waves her off without looking back. “I know how. Besides, my girl won’t run. She knows her place.”

Still trembling, you hold your arms again and look down.

“Mom, please…” you beg her shakily. “Just take me back to my room.”

“If you hadn’t upset me, you wouldn’t have had to see him,” Mom shifts the blame on you with her still-cheery tone, putting a hand on her hip. “Little girl, I’ve told you before. Remember your place. Don’t you dare forget it.”

With no more words between you, Mom continues escorting you to your already-unlocked room. She says nothing as you step in, but instead gives a playful wave and sly smile. You have finally stopped shivering by now, but your heart is still racing slightly. You at least feel a little relief when your door closes and envelops Mom’s frame, sheltering you from her sight. Wearily, you make your way to your desk chair and sit in it, staring at the hard, white surface of the metal thing with a still-racing heart. You feel your face scrunch up and your chest tighten as you begin to sob, tears rolling down your cheeks relentlessly as you bury your head in your hands.

You don’t really know for how long you cry, but you do so until your face eventually feels swollen and your head aches. You’re not really sure you can even make it to your bed before you pass out from exhaustion, instead hunching over your desk and sitting there until you can’t bring yourself to stay awake anymore.

Chapter 30: Visit Fourteen - Gods

Pleasured moans pierce your ears as they reverberate through the room along with the sounds of wet sloshing. You wearily open your eyes, almost afraid of what you might see as you do. You notice that your body is turned on its side, your head resting on a pillow, while your body is held close to someone behind you who has one arm wrapped around your waist. As you open your eyes fully, you first notice golden cuffs on your wrists connected by a chain. It doesn’t look like real gold, but you presume it’s just colored to look that way. Your eyes widen as you look beyond your bonds, noting Gale laying on an unfamiliar and large bed with you, somewhere a little further from where you are.

Their wrists are bound as yours are, though they’re completely naked otherwise. Their legs are spread as they’re lying on their back, two light brown hands holding their hips up while their knees are bent over the shoulders of, you realize, Jonathan. He’s hungrily lapping up Gale’s crotch with his glasses removed, and you can only assume that Gale’s opted to use their feminine parts today. Having only known Gale when they chose to take control of you, you find it odd to see them being submissive now, moaning and groaning with pleasure as they’re lapped up by a hungry Jonathan. It strikes you as strange that they’re here with you. Not once had it crossed your mind that you could be with more than two doctors, but you do recall Yosuke mentioning that some rooms had beds large enough for orgies and gangbangs. You suppose you’re in the very room for this, since the surroundings are far different than what you’ve seen.

Like the dungeon-esque room Micah had you in, this particular room seems fairly large. The walls are, however, the standard white color and the floor, what little of it you can see from where you are, is also white. You can’t see much of what’s behind you, but the room door is a few feet in front of you and to your right. There are a few counters and cabinets as per the standard examination room that you can see out of the corner of your eye, but they’re pretty unobtrusive and spaced out more than they are in the standard rooms.

The bed you’re on is strangely lower than what you’re accustomed to, almost as if it’s in the floor. When you glance up at the ceiling, you can tell that it’s much higher than usual. Then, when you look at the door, you can see the floor very close to your eye level, so you can only assume that it’s the case that this bed is in some indentation in the floor. Not only is your bed strangely positioned, but it is extremely large and round rather than rectangular, with white, soft sheets and fluffy pillows scattered about the upper part where you and Gale are resting. You can see that there’s a makeshift bedframe that’s just part of the indentation in the floor, but that there is a long bar along it, presumably for things like cuffs or rope to be attached to.

You’re not quite sure how much larger the room is around you, but you doubt that this is the only bed here. If not for the fact that its intention was for sex, you might say this is an elegant bed, comfortable and beautiful. It gently accommodates your shape and weight even as you lay upon and into it wearily, still trying to wake up fully and recover from the shock of seeing Gale and Jonathan in the midst of their activity.

As you glance back down, you notice you’re not wearing your usual gown, and instead are covered in some long white dress made of equally thin fabric that hangs loosely on your body. It’s not quite like the wedding dress in your dream, rather it feels like you’re wrapped in a single sheet that could easily be ripped or tugged away. You notice that it has slits on its sides that let your bare legs poke through, much to your embarrassment.

As you shift your head to see yourself, you feel the arm around your stomach pull you in closer, and a gentle voice almost whisper in your ear from behind you.

“Are you awake, human?” It asks inconspicuously, quietly enough to not disturb the other two across from you. You slowly turn your head to face Nathaniel, your eyes wide with confusion. He smiles warmly, but narrows his eyes slightly.

“Shall I explain to you what’s going on?” He invites you in whatever character he’s electing to play. You suppose he’s trying to tell you the rules of his little roleplay game for today, so you nod quietly, your face blushing as you feel Nathaniel shift your body around on your back so that he can see you better. He hovers over you, pressing both hands on either side of your head while he stares intently at you.

“My brother and I are Gods who have extended a merciful hand and rescued you from a life of misery,” he explains simply. “You and your new friend over there were living under constant abuse. My brother and I opted to protect you, but at the cost of your salvation, you have become ours. You will show us respect and adore us as we want you to. We will treat you with darling care, and we will show you our love if only you relinquish yourself to us.”

“Do you understand, human?” Nathaniel looks down at you, rubbing the back of his hand along your cheek gently. “You’ll be treated finely if you submit.”

“Y…yes,” you answer him, blushing as you feel his touch. “What do I call you?”

“Master,” Nathaniel smiles, speaking gently in your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. “We want to play with your mortal bodies for our amusement today, and all you must do is whatever we ask of you. Does that make sense, human?”

“Yes, master,” you look away. It feels strange to have to play a role again, but you’re at least a little more knowledgeable about how both Nathaniel and Jonathan are when they play and what to expect from them. You wonder if they carry their interests to Two and Three’s bedrooms, and it makes you queasy to think of how open the twins were with acting on stage a while ago now that you know who their doctors are and what they like.

Nathaniel leans toward you, ripping you from your thoughts. He begins to curl his fingers delicately under your chin, tilting your head upward slightly.

“Now let me taste those mortal lips, human,” he coos, closing his eyes as he tilts his head toward you and presses his lips against yours. You feel your face growing hot as he takes your mouth with his, softly moaning into you as he pulls away gently and comes back in for another sucking peck. It feels bizarre being treated this way while you’re still hearing Gale’s pleasured moans and gasps from beside you, but Nathaniel makes sure to keep your head and gaze focused on him.

As you’re kissed, you ball your hands and shiver with rising pleasure, the softness of your God’s touch starting to excite you.

“You taste delectable, human,” Nathaniel compliments you sweetly, then moves his hand down to your breast, beginning to play with its curved shape as he moves in to keep kissing you. This time, he stays on your lips and begins to move his tongue in while he massages you. Nathaniel occasionally lets a breathy moan out between each movement of his finger on your nipples and between each wrap of his tongue around yours. You keep your eyes shut as he works you, feeling your body growing hotter and hotter as you’re touched and loved.

You suddenly hear Gale let out a loud, piercing yell as they come into Jonathan’s mouth, finally letting their pleasure envelop them as they arch their back while they orgasm. They give a few heavy, vocal pants after they come back down, and from the corner of the one eye you elect to open, you see that Jonathan has knelt back up, a white garment that resembles a sheet wrapped gently around his waist with nothing else clothing his body.

Jonathan licks his lips and smiles warmly at Gale, rubbing their outer thigh lovingly and gently as they examine their work.

“Servant,” Nathaniel calls out to the other side of the bed, pulling away from your lips but still massaging your breast. Gale picks their head up and turns to their master, shifting their body and sitting upward.

“Yes, master?” They question almost babyishly with pursed lips and curious eyes, listening intently for their order. Jonathan, meanwhile, sits on his knees, staring at you with his gentle smile.

“Come play with this girl,” Nathaniel orders Gale. “Give her pleasure with your darling mouth until she can no longer speak.

“Yes, master!” Gale giggles uncharacteristically to how you know they really are, crawling toward you until they are able to face your legs. They give you a knowing look with their icy eyes, almost silently grinning at you from behind their servile façade. Without a word, they shift back and lean forward to grab your panties from beneath your dress, delicately tugging at them until they can completely get them off. You breathe heavily as you watch Gale move to do this, your lips quivering as Nathaniel keeps massaging your breast with one hand.

“Brother, won’t you come help?” he gently croons to his partner, who eagerly joins the both of you, laying on the other side of your body. Together, both young men glide their palms down your thighs and spread each one open, allowing Gale access to your slit. The warmth of the men’s hands makes you shiver and lightly gasp, the firmness of their grip pressing against your skin to make sure you can’t wriggle away. Once you’ve been positioned and Gale moves in, the men remove their hands and return them to your breasts, moving under your thin dress to reach each part of your bare chest and massaging you with different motions while staring at you intently, but with gentle expressions.

Gale moves away the cloth of your lengthy white dress and playfully rubs your clit with two fingers, making you squirm slightly in your bonds. The chains between your cuffs glide lightly against each bound wrist, producing a light metal clacking noise each time you move.

“Human, are you afraid?” Nathaniel coos in your ear. “There’s no need to be. We’ll be delicate with you.”

“Perhaps she needs encouragement, my brother,” Jonathan finally speaks, looking up at his partner with a soft smile. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” is his partner’s only response. Together, both men lean in to start kissing each side of your head, biting your earlobes and sucking hungrily on your neck. The sudden feeling of having two mouths suck on such delicate parts of you simultaneously causes you to gasp and moan aloud suddenly, your back arching as your head presses into the pillow beneath you. As each man toys with your ears and neck, you shake your head in embarrassment as if to try getting away from them. However, both Gods persist in their torment of you, lapping and sucking at every bit of skin they can get their lips and tongues on, each letting out gentle moans to make you shiver with lust.

Gale, meanwhile, begins to tongue eagerly at your pussy, still rubbing your clit with their two fingers while bringing your body in closer with their other arm by wrapping it around your leg and pulling you forward.

“This is too much!” You cry, your face utterly red and your voice whimpering with each pleasurable tease of your ears and neck. You can’t quite take both men fawning over you at once this way, on top of feeling their strong fingers massaging your breasts and rubbing your nipples playfully. Neither of the men responds openly to your pleasured outburst. They instead start chuckling with low, amused voices into your ears as they speed up their rubbing pace over your nipples and continue to torment you eagerly with their hungry lips and wet tongues.

After a while of being rubbed, licked, sucked, and toyed with, your body finally begins to respond to Gale’s pleasure and the men’s teasing of you, and you begin to gasp and groan loudly. Gale picks up their pace after hearing you, rubbing your clit and lapping you up faster and more sloppily while breathing heavily through their nose. They repeat their motions continuously until you finally let out a loud grunt and start instinctively thrusting against their face desperately as you start to come. As you enter a state of ecstasy, you feel both men on each side of you begin to pet different parts of your body, with Jonathan gently petting your head and Nathaniel rubbing your abdomen.

“That’s right, my dear human,” Nathaniel whispers in your ear breathily. “Come.”

You let out one last wail before your body sends a final wave of pleasure through you, your pussy squirting out its juices as you can no longer hold anything back. Gale continues to lick at you until you finish entirely, your body trembling as you come down from your orgasm with heavy pants. Nathaniel and Jonathan continue to pet you as you relax, your eyes glazed over already.

“What darling faces she makes, brother,” Jonathan giggles, kissing your cheek. “And we’ve only just begun. I’d like to take her for myself if you don’t mind.”

“As you like,” Nathaniel answers him with a smile. He then turns to Gale. “Servant, pull the girl forward and then come here.”

Gale immediately does as told, pulling your body away from the pillow and further down the bed while Jonathan kneels up and delicately begins to unwrap the cloth from his waist. He exposes his nudity to you, his cock raised and slightly wet with precum as he’s become aroused by your reactions to the pleasure you’ve been given.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel moves back and leans against the back of the bed on some pillows, spreading his legs around your head with bent knees. He beckons Gale toward him, who eagerly moves forward over you.

“Human, you will return the favor for your companion,” Nathaniel instructs you. “So do your part well.”

You blush as you realize what he wants Gale to do. You haven’t had your face sat on since Mom, but you’re not sure you’re ready for it again. However, you know you have no choice, so you say nothing as Gale sits atop you, pressing their genitals against your face eagerly.

“Now bend forward to reach me, servant,” Nathaniel commands Gale, who obliges. You can’t tell what they’re doing with their body right on top of your face, but you are able to roll your eyes back and see only glimpses. Nathaniel proceeds to sit back while Gale delicately peels away the cloth from his body, which you only barely notice he had been wearing as well. With his cock exposed, Nathaniel gently takes one of Gale’s hands and slowly licks it until it’s wet enough for it to work his shaft. Meanwhile, you can feel Jonathan below you spreading your legs, slightly twisting your hips so that he can lift one leg up and penetrate you that way. You give off a bit of a worried, muffled moan of protest, but are kept quiet with Gale on top of you. As they begin to work Nathaniel’s cock with their hands, Gale starts to also grind against your face.

“Does she feel good, servant?” you hear Nathaniel question Gale. They respond eagerly with another enthusiastic, breathy “Yes, master”.

“Human, be more enthusiastic for your friend,” Nathaniel chides you as he notices you simply laying there. “They made you feel special. You ought to do the same for them.”

You are unable to really respond, but you hesitantly oblige the order and begin to tongue at Gale’s body. It feels strange doing this after having seen them with a rubbery cock and only having known them to be atop you in much the same way as the men. You recall Gale saying they liked to be submissive sometimes, but you hadn’t really expected it to be like this. Having seen them be eaten out and ordered around is surreal to you when you think of it. And eating them out yourself now is especially jarring, though you embarrassingly admit it feels only slightly less awkward with them than it had with Mom.

Your thoughts are suddenly pushed away as you feel Jonathan lift your leg up and press his way into your already-wet pussy while still on his knees. You give a muffled yelp as you feel his sex slide into you, but this makes Gale moan as the vibrations of your voice reverberates in their body. As Jonathan slowly begins to pump into your cunt eagerly, you hear Gale start to hungrily suck and slurp Nathaniel’s cock while humping your face. You feel embarrassed being in this position and being used this way, but you try your best to endure everything.

You can hear all three of the doctors beginning to gasp and moan as they’re each stimulated, though Gale seems to be the most vocal, moaning loudly and muffledly into Nathaniel’s cock as they suck it thoroughly with loud slurping noises while enduring the pleasure from your unwilling tongue and lips. You, in turn, begin to groan into Gale as you feel Jonathan riding you with wide, loving, but forceful strides as he takes your pussy eagerly, his breathy pants echoing throughout the room as he concentrates on using you.

“You feel magnificent, human!” He gasps. “Your body is truly worthy of being taken by a God.”

“Don’t completely waste her strength, brother,” Nathaniel grunts as his dick is sucked lovingly and hungrily by Gale. “I have yet to feel her body for myself.”

He lets out another pleasured groan as he struggles to contain himself.

“My servant…” he moans, grabbing Gale’s scalp. “More….”

Meanwhile, Jonathan gives a gentle laugh between his thrusting, picking up his pace more as he feels you wriggling around with rising pleasure while letting more muffled cries escape your lips. You tug helplessly at your bonds, the chain between each cuff on your wrist swinging around wildly and producing a light metallic rustling noise.

“Mmph!” You cry in pleasure as your mouth and pussy becomes full of wetness. Jonathan continues to pound into you, pumping his cock in and out of your body and pressing against your clit with each thrust until you can’t take it anymore. In moments, you begin to reciprocate his thrusts unwillingly and start to come, riding Jonathan’s dick eagerly as you do.

“My, my, she’s so very eager to take my seed!” He laughs in amusement between his pants. “Very well, my dear human. Take all of it into you.”

He gives a few more groans as he pumps quickly into you before he finally releases his load with a loud, breathy grunt.

“Stay still, my precious girl!” He commands you teasingly as he thrusts his cock into you a few more times while releasing his seed into your cunt. “Endure all that I have to give you.”

You cry out into Gale again, pressing your head into the bed under you and feeling your body tremble as you’re forced to take Jonathan’s warm cum. As you’re inseminated by your God, both Nathaniel and Gale begin to climax as well, with Nathaniel letting out a loud, pleasured grunt as he orgasms. Gale, on the other hand, arches their back and lets out a breathy yell into the air, throwing their head back as they come into your mouth.

“Yes, yes!” They cry, still grinding into you. Nathaniel laughs deeply with amusement as Gale orgasms, while Jonathan finally slows his pace in your body. He does not immediately remove himself from you, instead panting breathily as he recovers from his excitement. Everyone eventually settles, and Gale gets off of your face, allowing you to breathe in heavily.

“Clean her, servant,” Nathaniel breathily commands. Gale obliges, their face blushing and their eyes enraptured with pleasure as they move down your body slightly to lean over you. They begin to lick your mouth and cheeks of their juices, breathily moaning into you as they do so. Before long, Gale finishes their task and eagerly looks up at their master for more instruction.

“Move aside,” Nathaniel commands them, rising from his seat on the bed. As Gale does what they’re told and moves off of you, Jonathan slowly pulls out of your creamy cunt, making you gasp as he does so. You feel a bit of his cum drip out of your pussy as he slides out, and you shiver in response. Jonathan then rises as well, switching places with his so-called brother. He kneels where Nathaniel sat, while his partner kneels before your legs. By now, you’ve moved your waist back into is previous position, your legs trembling as you still try to recover from your pounding.

Nathaniel gently lifts up your thighs and spreads them wide open, his cock still wet with both his cum and Gale’s saliva.

“My darling human,” He coos, watching your blushing face and rising chest eagerly. “It’s my turn to show you my pleasure. Submit to me and I will love you, always. I’ll make you mine forever.”

“I can’t take much more of this, master,” you pant, your body woozy from the slew of sensations from earlier. “Please…”

“You have no choice, human,” Jonathan smiles sweetly from above your head. He pets you lovingly, making you blush even more. “You’re ours now. You have to endure our love no matter what. Would you rather go back to being abused and beaten?”

You aren’t sure how to respond, so you say nothing and continue to breathe heavily, feeling your chest rise and fall sharply. As he had before, Jonathan moves his cock toward your lips, bending over slightly as he kneels over you.

“Now open your mouth, sweet girl.”

You shut your eyes, but continue to play your role as expected.

“Yes…master,” you whimper, parting your lips for your God and groaning as he slides his wet cock into your mouth delicately.

“Stay still, now,” Nathaniel commands you from where he’s kneeling. He gently presses his way into you, making you gasp through your nose as you feel his dick burrowing into your dripping pussy. Gale, meanwhile, decides to take a break from their pleasure and recover, opting instead to stimulate you with their mouth and hands on your stomach and breasts. They moan lightly as they lean in to lick and suck at your left nipple while reaching for your right with their wrists still cuffed.

“Mmmph!” You moan again, shivering in your bonds with pleasure as you’re taken in both orifices by both men and lapped up by Gale. Both men riding you laugh at your struggling, continuing to pump into you at their own pace.

“You love it, don’t you?” Nathaniel sweetly questions you, giving one loud, slapping thrust into your body. “Shall we pump you full of our seed, human? Do you want us to impregnate you?”

You clench your hands at such embarrassing phrases escaping his lips and tremble more. Hearing it from Yosuke is bad enough, but hearing it plainly and directly from another doctor feels equally uncomfortable. These sudden trembling reactions cause Nathaniel chuckle at you.

“Even if you don’t, we will give our love to you regardless. You have no choice but to accept out bodies into yours,” he tells you, pumping again into you as Jonathan thrusts lovingly into your throat. He seems to be taking his time with you, making you taste every bit of his flesh as he slides his cock gently in and out of you.

“They’ll treat you well,” Gale promises you in character as they take a moment to retract their mouth from your breasts. “All you have to do is let them into you.”

“I’m going to go faster now, human,” Nathaniel warns you, rubbing your lower abdomen sweetly with one hand. “Please endure me.”

As promised, he begins to thrust more quickly into you, your wet pussy making sloppy, wet noises with each precious pump of his cock into it. Jonathan also picks up his pace, pressing his hands into the bedsheets eagerly as he thrusts himself into your throat and begins to groan.

“You feel so lovely,” He compliments you between his thrusts. “Human…”

“Does it feel good, my precious human?” Nathaniel questions amongst his pumping, panting eagerly as he fucks you. “Do you want more?”

You are unable to answer him, feeling your body grow limp as your pleasure rises yet again. You don’t want to have to keep enduring this, but you also can’t bring yourself to hate it the more of the men’s wet, warm pumping you’re forced to take into your body. Coupled with Gale’s loving tonguing of your nipple and their massaging of your other breast, you can’t control yourself anymore.

“She’s losing her mind,” Gale giggles as they observe your eyes rolling back slowly, moving now to kiss and suck at your stomach now that Nathaniel has removed his hand. Their touch there makes you gasp through your nose again, and you move your cuffed wrists to grab their scalp with both hands as they lick you up. Gale continues to use their hand on your breast where their mouth had just been, rubbing your nipple a little faster now and making you squirm.

“Mmph!” You let out another muffled cry, though it comes out sounding a bit strange given that you have a cock pressing in and out of your throat eagerly.

“I’m going to come soon, brother,” Nathaniel informs his partner between his pants and groans. “I want us to come inside of her together.”

“Of course,” Jonathan grunts in response, smirking. “We will fill her with our seed at once.”

Nathaniel addresses you now.

“And you, my dearest human,” he gasps. “You will come when we tell you to.”

Both men continue to toy with your body while you squirm at their thrusts Gale’s stimulation of you. You moan and gurgle muffledly and wetly into Jonathan’s dick between thrusts, and before long, you feel your body succumbing to the pounding from him and his partner.

“Masters, I think she’s ready,” Gale informs their grunting, gasping Gods. Both men laugh in response.

“As are we,” Nathaniel responds breathily, concentrating on pumping his cock into you lustily. “Human, come for us, won’t you?”

“Come, my dear girl,” Jonathan sweetly commands with a breathy voice, then grunting. “Come…!”

You struggle to hold yourself back and do precisely as commanded, grinding your hips again against the cock inside of you and letting out a throated, gurgled yell into Jonathan as he releases his semen into your mouth while giving out a pleasured, forceful cry. Simultaneously, Nathaniel lets out a loud groan as he comes, spurting his seed into your pussy forcefully as he pumps a few more times to bury his semen deep into you. Your body shakes and jerks around as you orgasm, your voice unable to be heard anymore as you’re forced to swallow more and more cum. Gale giggles while watching you squirm, but they press against your hips to hold you in place while you’re forced to receive every drop of each man’s seed.

“Good girl…good girl,” Jonathan whispers as he slows his pumping pace. Nathaniel, however, is unable to produce words while he concentrates on finishing up inside of you.

As you all come down from your ecstasy, both men pull out of your body slowly and leave each of your orifices dripping with their creamy cum. Nathaniel lowers your legs and places them back on the bed, then looks at Jonathan.

“Brother…can you endure more?” He asks his partner, still panting slightly. Jonathan’s face is glazed over with pleasure, but he looks back at Nathaniel and smiles.

“Once more,” he says with heavy breaths. “I’m almost at my limit.”

“I…I don’t want anymore…” You moan, your body feeling limp. “Please…masters.”

“Which end do you want?” Nathaniel ignores you. Jonathan points to where his brother is kneeling without really responding, and so the two men switch their positions again. Gale sits on their knees with their chained hands in their lap, awaiting their instruction happily. You feel Jonathan turn your body over, lifting you by your hips slightly while his partner gets into position. You feel too tired to fight back, letting Jonathan hold you firmly. Nathaniel lays under you, taking your hips in his hands now so that Jonathan can position your legs. He opens them so that you’re in a straddling position, then moves in to spread your labia open so that Nathaniel’s cock can easily glide into you. You gasp as you feel your body being lowered onto him, his sex entering you yet again as you’re placed atop him. Instinctively, you lean forward and dig your fingers into Nathaniel’s chest, gasping at the strange sensation in this position. Satisfied, Nathaniel gently holds you close with both arms wrapped around you, releasing his grip on your hips.

You then feel Jonathan undo your dress by tugging firmly at it, making you realize the thing was indeed loose enough to be easily pulled off after all. You blush as you feel the cold air against your back, and as you feel Jonathan tugging away the fabric of your dress so that you’re completely naked atop your God.

“Don’t move, human,” Jonathan whispers in your ear from behind you. He moves a finger to your ass and gently massages it, much to your shock.

“No, please!” You beg him, but Nathaniel tightens his grip on you and forces you to stay close to him while you’re massaged. “Master…!”

“Servant, please watch us use the girl,” Nathaniel gives his command to Gale. “Touch yourself as you do. Savor the sight of our pleasure.”

“Of course, master” Gale smiles sweetly, leaning back and spreading their legs. They begin to massage their clit, watching you intently as Jonathan works you. He takes a while to get you ready, having to use the leftover wetness from your pussy to finger you. However, he eventually manages to loosen you up just a bit more.

“She’s ready,” he soon tells his brother. “I’m going in now.”

He slowly moves his body over yours and presses himself slowly into you, doing precisely as Gale had before. You suppose he’s doing it carefully now that Gale’s here to observe, which you’re silently grateful for even though you still scorn the intrusion in your backside. You give a heavy grunt as you’re forced to endure Jonathan’s cock in your ass. Even with him going slowly, it still feels strange. You admit, though, you’d much prefer it be him than someone like Micah. Even after your day off, you still feel just a tinge of soreness from his pounding, but know that you can’t do anything about it now.

“Is it comfortable, human?” Jonathan asks you sweetly, steadying your hips with his hands. You bury your head in Nathaniel’s chest and continue to groan as you take the entirety of Jonathan’s shaft slowly.

“It feels strange, master!” You tell him truthfully, balling your fists. “I…I can’t…”

“I’ll make it feel good soon,” Jonathan promises you, moving out of your body just as slowly so that he can prepare to thrust. “Hold on for me like a good girl.”

“Here,” Nathaniel moves one hand to your scalp and gently tugs your head back, guiding it your face closer to his. You try to protest, but are unable to as he sweetly kisses you, closing his eyes and giving out heavy breaths through his nose as he sucks in your lips. You are unable to pull away as you feel Jonathan thrust into you finally, making you yelp into Nathaniel’s mouth at the sudden sensation. You admit that it’s getting easier to take things in your ass the more you’re forced to do it, but you still don’t prefer the way it feels without some other kind of stimulation to aid it.

As if on cue, you feel Nathaniel begin to slowly thrust and roll his hips against you from beneath your body, and you find yourself leaning into him even more as you feel him burrowing into you. Both men begin to eagerly slide their cocks in and out of your body, forcing you to feel their sex while you helplessly lean into Nathaniel and have your lips taken in his. From the corner of your eye, you see Gale throwing their head back and watching hungrily as they masturbate to the sight of you being pounded into, much to your embarrassment. Nathaniel eventually pulls away from your lips with one last sucking kiss and stares lovingly into you as he thrusts against you, panting lightly.

“Does it feel good, human?” he coos darlingly, watching you inently with his light brown eyes. You’re unable to really respond, instead whimpering and gasping as you’re ridden helplessly by both men. You feel your clit rubbing against Nathaniel’s crotch with each thrust into you, and you shudder at the warmth of Jonathan’s hands as he grips your waist to keep you in place while bucking his hips against you.

“I…” you gasp, unable to produce anymore words. Nathaniel merely smiles at you, leaning your head into his.

“Shhh, shhhh,” he hushes you gently, moving his lips over yours again as he keeps you quiet with his sweet kisses. After enduring the wild thrusting into both holes for a while, you find yourself grinding eagerly against Nathaniel yourself with rising pleasure, pressing your hands against his chest firmly as you moan and cry into his mouth. Despite your body saying otherwise, you want desperately to get away, but both men do well to keep you in place while they fuck you. As you’re pounded, you hear your chain clinking loudly against the metal cuffs, each thrust tussling the thing around. You also hear Gale giving a few pants and long moans on their end as well, as they slowly stick their fingers into their wet hole while watching you.

“I’m gonna come…I’m….” Jonathan pants, almost whispering. “…Don’t move…Don’t move…”

He tightens his grip on your waist as he throws his head back and groans loudly, pumping his cock into your ass over and over while he spurts out his cum.

“F-fuck…!”

You yelp as you feel him releasing his juices into you, but Nathaniel refuses to let your lips go until he’s ready to. Once he is, he pulls away and whispers in your ear.

“Come with me, human.”

“I…can’t…!” You whimper in response, but are unable to finish saying what you want to. Jonathan moves in to kiss and suck at your nape as he finishes thrusting into you, adding to your pleasure and making you yelp again.

“Shh…” Nathaniel’s voice remains low and soft as he kisses your cheek. “Come…just come…”

You can’t stop your body from grinding against him, and something about the way he tells you to come for him, almost as if begging for it, makes you buck even more wildly. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a loud yell and arch your back. You end up throwing your head back and crying loudly as you orgasm atop Nathaniel, feeling him steadying your body while he focuses on pumping upward into you. Jonathan rubs your breasts from behind you while you climax, doing everything he can to add to your last moments of pleasure.

“Almost…” Nathaniel tries to speak, his voice now gasping and breathy as he can’t concentrate on keeping his façade up.

Finally, he throws his head back and grunts as he climaxes, pumping his cum into your cunt as you grind against him. From beside you, Gale orgasms as well, loudly groaning from their throat and falling back on the bed, legs spread and fingers furiously thrusting into their body.

Soon, the wet slapping noises, the rustling chain, the grunts and groans, all sounds come to a halt as everyone’s orgasms finally end, replaced only by panting breaths. Nathaniel keeps you close and continues to quietly grind against you while he finishes pumping you full of more cum, but eventually he slows down before stopping entirely, panting heavily as he leans back.

Jonathan pulls out of you first, then gently lifts your body up off of his partner and lays it delicately on the bed, with your back against the mattress. He leans your head on one of the pillows and lays beside you, panting as he recovers. Nathaniel follows his partner’s actions and shifts over while on the opposite side of your body, leaning on his side with his head resting in his hand. With his other hand, he lovingly rubs your abdomen again. Gale, meanwhile, sits back up, sucking in breath as they bring themselves back from their pleasure.

“Ten…” Nathaniel fully ends his charade. “You were adorable, as ever. I’ll be surprised if I don’t get you pregnant with how much of my cum I left inside of you.”

“S…top…” you weakly pant in embarrassment at his words, balling your fists. “…I…”

You don’t even know what you want to say anymore, your body utterly weak from being licked, sucked, rubbed, and pounded. You instead lay your head back and stare at the ceiling with glazed eyes, letting Nathaniel rub your abdomen with his gentle fingers while Jonathan moves in to kiss your neck. He wraps an arm around your waist, shoving his other arm under the pillows to steady his head while he lazily kisses you.

“You’re always a joy to play with,” he murmurs in your ear, almost giggling boyishly. Gale, meanwhile, sits cross-legged, watching you with a gentle smile.

“Should I start getting the syringe ready?” They ask their associates. Nathaniel nods at them.

Though this statement scares you, you are unable to really react, feeling your body as if it were made of jelly or pudding. You feel nothing but wetness in every hole, utterly dirty and used. But, you are unable to do much of anything with your wrists still bound and with both men moving in to kiss you gently, holding you close.

“Here,” Gale hands Nathaniel a syringe full of unknown liquid after a while of being absent, though you assume it’s the same drug used to knock you out, just in a different form. Nathaniel takes the thing in his hand and both men stop kissing you for a moment so that they can inject you with the drug inside of the syringe. Jonathan moves his arm away from your waist and holds your head toward him firmly while Nathaniel moves into your neck to press the needle into it. You wince at the sharp pinching sensation, but both men keep you steady while your body receives its dose. Gale, meanwhile, takes a seat in front of you, sitting on their knees. You realize they’ve also taken the time to dress themselves, though their hair is still a bit disheveled from today’s play. They’re not really wearing the same clothes you remember them in, instead dressed in a black, loose skirt and a pink mid-sleeve blouse made of thin material.

“Thank you, for not penetrating me,” Gale addresses both men before them so casually. “I really wasn’t in the mood for it today. My fingers were weird enough, actually.”

“You should have said something,” Jonathan seems genuinely concerned. He continues to hold your head as your injection continues, ignoring you when you whimper with discomfort at the feeling of the needle in your neck. “We would have stopped. You could have also said no when we asked you to join. We were going to ask Ma, but she doesn’t seem to be all there right now.”

“I wonder why,” Gale lowers a brow. “She’s usually so chipper and jumps at the chance to change things up. But she hasn’t really been saying much about whatever’s bugging her.”

“You see that bruise on her face, though?” Jonathan chuckles. “I’m guessing she pissed the boss off.”

You wince at the mention of Mom, as it reminds you of what happened yesterday. You start to shiver slightly as you remember yesterday’s events with her, but try to contain yourself to avoid drawing attention from the others with you.

“There,” Nathaniel remarks as he finishes his injection. “Now that’s enough gossip, you two. We still have a guest here.”

He slowly removes the needle from your neck and puts it aside on the floor above the bed somewhere. Jonathan removes his arm from your head and instead continues to hold your body close by your waist.

“You’ll fall asleep in a moment,” Nathaniel tells you simply, assuming his position again beside you, this time closer to your body as he had been when you first woke up. “But we’ll stay with you until you do.”

Gale smiles at you.

“You were darling, kitten,” they compliment you, moving on from their earlier comments. “I’m glad I got to see you again. You make such cute noises, you know.”

They giggle lightly.

“But I guess I was pretty noisy too. I hope you didn’t mind it.”

You blush and shut your eyes, not wanting to be present for this conversation. However, you open them again suddenly and gasp when you feel Nathaniel and Jonathan wrapping their arms lovingly around you, moving in gently to kiss your cheeks and each side of your neck.

“We loved having you again,” Nathaniel coos in your ear before giving you another loving peck. “Ten…”

“You’re starting to play your role a little better now,” Jonathan chuckles, giving your cheek another darling kiss like his partner. “You’re a very good girl, Ten.”

You are unable to process anything further after this, feeling your body reacting to the drug after a series of loving kisses and rubs. You find your vision starting to blur as the room swirls around you, your body becoming weightless. In moments, you fall asleep in Nathaniel and Jonathan’s arms, feeling nothing but their lips upon you before you lose consciousness.

Chapter 31: Rest Fifteen - Frustrations

You recall waking up briefly in the shower, but you have no recollection of who cleaned you since you were still heavily under the influence of the drug you were injected with. You didn’t really fully come to until you were back out in the hallway, with Mom leading you yet again. When you caught sight of her for the first time today, you noticed that injuries seemed to be going down slightly, but were still fairly apparent.

Now, you’re being led by her down the usual hallway, again glancing up at Cyrus’ room number with worry before you round the corner to face the usual metal gate. You stand there obediently as Mom tells you not to move, going into her office to open the gate for you. You hesitate for a moment at first, though you’re not sure why you feel sheepish about going in this time. Perhaps you’re worried about confronting everyone after what happened with Cyrus. You’re not quite sure why you would be, since nobody really knows what happened and won’t know so long as you stay quiet.

“Go on, little girl,” Mom calls out to you from her office door, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. “Go in.”

You say nothing to her, but oblige Mom’s command and step into the gate. After a brief moment, Mom retreats back into her office, and the gate slams shut behind you. This makes you jump slightly, and you become entirely frustrated at this sudden jitteriness. However, you try to press on, opting to go into the rec room again in the hopes that someone is there that you can talk to casually. Much to your surprise, there are only two bodies present. On the couch by the television is, again, Blue. She seems to be sitting and leaning back against the thing instead of laying down, but she’s less focused on the screen and more focused on picking at her nails. You’re not sure why she bothers to watch films when she never seems interested in them.

“Hi, Ten,” she calls out casually without really looking up. You give a quiet wave back, but don’t really say much else. To your right, you see Cyrus laying across the other couch in the rec room, a hand on his stomach. His other arm is by his side as it had been when he passed out before. You watch as his chest slowly rises and falls, glad that he’s alive when you see this. He looks fairly peaceful in his slumber, almost as if he’s smiling just slightly even though you know he isn’t. A part of you wonders if people dream under the influence of all those drugs. You’ve only really dreamt a few times that you can recall.

You step toward Cyrus slowly, feeling your heart fluttering slightly as you do. Quietly, you kneel in front of the couch and touch the back of your hand to his forehead. He seems to be fine to you, merely unconscious. You’re not sure what you really expected.

“He’s fine, Ten,” Blue calls out from the other side of the room. “Just had his shot, that’s all.”

“I know,” you respond solemnly. You wish you could talk to him again to make sure he’s okay, but you know that it’ll be at least one more day before he is aware enough to at least speak.

Suddenly, you hear the rec room doors open again, and you turn your head to see a very upset Violet with a bottle of water in her hands.

“Hey, back off, will you?!” She practically barks, storming over to where you are. “He needs space!”

“Oh boy,” Blue mutters from across the room just quietly enough not to be heard by Violet. She still refuses to really look up, still picking at her fingers casually.

“I just wanted to make sure he was okay,” You try to assure the angry Violet, standing back up. Violet moves in front of you and takes your place, kneeling by Cyrus’ body and unscrewing the cap to the bottle.

“Yeah, well he’s fine,” she spits at you. “I’m taking care of him now, so he’ll be okay. You can go.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?” You try to offer, feeling yourself growing angry but wanting desperately to contain yourself.

“No, just go away!” Violet scowls, taking Cyrus’ head in one hand and tipping the water bottle against his lips. “I can do this myself. I don’t need you here!”

“Seven, she’s just trying to fucking help!” Blue shouts from across the room, dropping her hands and fully turning her attention to the both of you. “Why are you being such a cunt?”

“I don’t need help,” Violet scowls. “He doesn’t need everyone fawning over him, okay? So just shut up and leave!”

You frown, feeling your heart sink as Violet continues to be openly mean to you. For as much as you want to protect her until Cyrus can talk to her, you don’t want to have to take this right now.

“Fine,” you quietly answer her with a defeated sigh. “I’ll go.”

You turn to take your leave, but Blue rises from her seat and reaches after you.

“Wait, Ten!” She calls worriedly. “You don’t have to go! You don’t have to take that from her!”

“It’s fine,” You frustratedly try to assure her, still making your way toward the rec room doors. Violet continues to say nothing, but she turns her head slightly and glares at both you and Blue with frustration. Furious, Blue turns to her and balls her fists.

“See what you do?” She shouts angrily. “Do you even care how you are? No wonder some of us don’t fucking like you!”

Without another word, Blue angrily follows after you into the hallway. Before you have a chance to react, she places her hand on your shoulder and looks at you remorsefully.

“Hey, Ten…” She murmurs. “I’m really sorry. I seriously hate it when she gets all jealous like that! We really ought to try to do something about it. Talk to her, cold shoulder, something.”

“It’s not my or anyone else’s responsibility to change her,” you look down, your eyebrows furrowing. “She really won’t listen to anything I have to say right now anyway. I’m still in her line of sight and seen as a threat to whatever it is she thinks she has with Cyrus, and I really can’t do much about it right now.”

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re sick of her attitude?” Blue narrows her eyes. “It can’t be that hard. I do it all the time.”

“It’s not that easy,” You reject her idea, folding your arms. “It’s…it’s really complicated, okay?”

“Nuh-uh, fuck that,” Blue waves a hand dismissively. “She’s getting to be as bad as Eight, honestly. I can deal with her usually, but not when she gets intentionally catty over things that don’t matter. We have to do something or else I’m gonna actually lose my shit. Every time she’s around she pulls something stupid and I’m seriously getting tired of it.”

“Please, just stop!” you beg her. “I don’t like it either, alright? But….”

“Why are you defending her so much?” Blue raises her voice at you, crossing her arms. “Why are you trying to be nice when all she does is jealously shit on you? You don’t have to take that, you know!”

“I don’t know how to answer that right now,” You press your fingers to your temples. “I don’t like it, believe me. But I’m telling you, it’s complicated. There’s…steps that need to be taken in dealing with her. But I don’t think she’s a bad person, alright? I think she’s just misguided. She just needs to deal with some harsh truths before she can get better.”

“Ten, stop trying to be some messiah,” Blue scoffs. “That’s like, Cyrus’ job, and he does it way better than anyone ever could. I really don’t see why you have to try to be like that. Have you been hanging around with him a lot or something?”

You say nothing, but this causes Blue to stop talking and look at you with a tilted head. You avoid her gaze as she gets uncomfortably close to you, and in moments, she is able to piece together precisely what happened.

“Oh my fucking god, you did not,” She almost laughs, unfolding her arms and holding a hand to her lips. She then looks back at the rec room doors and grins. “We have to tell her.”

“No!” You grab Blue’s arm and tug her violently away from the door as she tries to walk back in. “Blue, we can’t!”

“Why not? This is perfect!” The baby blue girl laughs loudly. “She’s gonna lose her goddamned mind! That’s like, the best possible way to stick it to her!”

“You’re gonna hurt her feelings!” You grunt as you try to pull her away. “I don’t want this right now, just stop!”

Blue finally obliges, standing still for a moment. While you have an opening, you quickly usher her into the gardens close by and pin her against the wall.

“Okay, so you’re giving me some conflicting vibes here,” Blue looks you dead in the eyes and frowns slightly. “I like men, just so you know.”

“Blue, I need you to listen to me!” You warn her, gazing straight into her baby blue eyes. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not at all. There’s a lot going on right now and I need you not to fuck things up, okay?”

“Okay, whatever,” Blue huffs some hair out of her face. “I guess he’d say the same anyway. He’s pretty bashful about that stuff at times when it’s like, intimate.”

“Blue, we didn’t….” You blush, looking away. “I mean…”

“Was he at least good?” Blue laughs as she asks this, still not taking things seriously and thus frustrating you further. “C’mon, you can tell me, girl to girl. I can keep a secret.”

“You literally almost just blabbed one out to Violet for the purposes of emotional warfare, I don’t think you can keep them that hard!” You raise your voice, making Blue laugh more.

“Okay, fine, I know,” she raises her hands with playful defensiveness. “I can be a little bit loud sometimes. But you gotta understand, I really can’t stand Seven’s weird obsession with Cyrus. I just thought—”

“We didn’t have sex on our own terms,” You interrupt her, narrowing your eyes. Hearing this causes Blue to stop dead in her tracks and look at you with her eyes wide.

“…What?”

You drop your hands then, feeling your chest welling up with pressure again but trying your best to hold yourself together.

“Blue…Mom made him do it, okay?” You admit to her, holding your arms and looking away. “I didn’t want it to happen, but things just…escalated. And then she said that she’d hurt Cyrus if I ever told my doctor what we did.”

Blue bites her lip and avoids your gaze.

“Um…I’m really sorry. I had no idea that they would even…that they could even…”

“Please, can you just keep it between us?” You beg her wearily, looking into her eyes again finally. “Cyrus said he was going to warn everyone when he had the chance, but he doesn’t really want everyone knowing that I’m the one who was with him. I can handle being with him, I can handle being tormented by Mom, but I don’t want to hurt Violet, and I don’t want to start any drama. I just want to be okay. Okay?”

You are able to remain composed for the most part, but Blue watches you worriedly nonetheless. She brings a hand to her forearm and rubs it sheepishly.

“Yeah…okay” she says, giving a slight nod. “I’m really sorry, Ten, I had no idea.”

“Then why did you treat it like a joke before?” You demand, scowling. “This isn’t funny!”

“I don’t know, I just…” Blue shuts her eyes. “I try not to take things seriously. I don’t like being serious like everyone else, I mean I did my time being all angsty and sad already, I don’t want to go back to that if I can help it. I want to smile when I can.”

She opens her eyes again, but avoids your gaze.

“I guess not everyone’s used to that though,” She shifts her eyes to the side. “Anyway, I didn’t really know under what conditions you guys…you know. I just thought you finally got together or something.”

“…Finally?” Your expression softens. Blue gives one light shoulder shrug, still rubbing her arm nervously.

“I thought you liked each other or something,” She admits. “Or at least, I thought Cyrus liked you. He talks to you a lot, it’s not like I don’t notice.”

“We’re just good friends,” you blush, looking away. “Plus, I talk to everyone, don’t I?”

“I guess so,” Blue exhales. “But come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about being in a real relationship just once. I see Five and Six all the time and wonder what that’s like. And with all the romance movies I’ve sat through, it’s crossed my mind a lot.”

“Do you actually like movies?”

“Yeah, I do.” Blue merely blinks at you with a strangely confused expression. “I mean, mostly. It’s not like there’s much else to do anyway. I’m not really into reading, I’m not a musician, I’m not super athletic, and for as much as I like to, I’m not always in the mood to draw. Movies are fun, kind of.”

She puffs up one of her cheeks with air.

“Well anyway, I always see couples in movies sharing these big romantic scenes together. The way they finally get together in the end after going through so much. Sometimes there’s just a couple in a movie in general even though they’re not the focus. I dunno, I always get curious to know what that’s like. I never really like to ask Five or Six about it because it feels weird for me to.”

Blue then shrugs her shoulder again.

“You have to be at least a little curious, right?”

“I…I don’t know right now,” you tell her honestly. “I’m still confused about a lot of other things. I don’t need this on top of it.”

“Well, either way, it is kind of interesting to have something happen around here,” Blue admits almost with a laugh. “You have no idea how boring it gets. I’d say I’d do what you did more for fun, but I don’t really find myself attracted to anyone here.”

“This isn’t a game, Blue!” You retort somewhat with annoyance. “This isn’t just some fun thing for you to spectate, it’s really stressful. Please, just let it be, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” your companion exhales, dropping her hands entirely and looking at you. She makes a quick zipping motion across her mouth with one hand. “I like you, Ten, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. This conversation never happened.”

“Thank you,” you slowly sigh. The both of you stay silent for a minute before Blue eventually speaks up.

“Um, so you want food or something?” She curls her hair around her finger. “Mealtime started a little while ago, before you got here. I don’t have much of an appetite, but maybe you’re hungry.”

You hold your stomach, thinking for a bit.

“I guess I am a little,” you admit. “All I have in my stomach right now is….”

You trail off, blushing, but Blue picks up your meaning quite immediately.

“Well cum’s not really a meal, is it?” She chuckles, making you avert your gaze in embarrassment at her casual attitude and phrasing. Blue then smiles and takes your hand.

“So let’s go!” She enthusiastically remarks. “Let’s get your mind off of all this, ‘kay?”

Without letting you answer, she tugs you out of the gardens and through the hall to the cafeteria. Where most areas had been barren just yesterday, they seem far more populated now. Both the twins, the peach girlfriends, and Lav are sitting together at a table, eating and laughing over something. The twins and Lav are seated facing the door, but Five and Six have their backs turned toward you as they sit on the opposite side of the table.

Strikingly, Two’s nose has been covered in gauze, and his left arm is now wrapped from palm to elbow in a white, somewhat bulky cast. His fingers are exposed, but the entirety of his forearm is covered and stiff. You look at him with surprise, but are simultaneously happy to know that he’s fine otherwise. As the cafeteria doors close behind you, Three is the first to notice you, her face lighting up with a smile as she waves you over and calls your number eagerly. The others finally notice you as well, with Five and Six turning their bodies slightly and smiling happily like Three as they see you.

“Hey!” Lav greets you cheerily first.

“Oh…hey…” You blush having to confront her again and end up hesitating to move forward. Blue notices your flustered state and leans in, whispering.

“Just pretend nothing bothers you, mmkay?” She suggests, moving away from you then to go sit beside five and Six. You try to implement her advice, but end up walking past the table to the counter, using your getting food as an opportunity to prolong the inevitable interaction with your friends while chiding yourself for being nervous for no reason. You stand by the counter silently, feeling your unease and embarrassment rising as nothing happens.

“Um…Hello?” You call to the person behind the counter. Suddenly, a tray of food and silverware is shoved through the slit between the cover and the counter, making you jump slightly. Sheepishly, you take the solid, flat thing in your hands. As you look down at your plate, you find that it’s filled with some kind of pasta with bits of cooked red meat and some kind of shredded green vegetable sprinkled atop it, the entire dish dressed lightly in a creamy white sauce. You almost feel sick to your stomach looking at it, even though you’re certain you’re just judging the dish too harshly because of the suggestive texture of its topping. You’re sure it actually tastes good, since it certainly smells alluring and savory from where you are. There also seems to be a small, sealed cup of some chocolate pudding on your tray, surprising to you since you’re used to fresher meals that aren’t packaged. You recall Violet mentioning junk food though, so you suppose this is just a small treat for today.

“Thanks,” you tell the strange figure behind the counter, who you find has been lingering there since they served you. They, of course, don’t respond to you, but do step away from the counter once you do. Now with your tray in hand, you take a seat beside Lav, who you notice has scooted herself over to make room for you.

“How’ve you been?” She questions eagerly, pecking at her half-eaten plate. “I didn’t see you yesterday. I was kept pretty busy, so I didn’t really get to come by until way later.”

“I’ve been okay,” you somewhat lie, again inhaling the savory aroma of the dish before you. Admittedly, it makes your mouth water. “I actually spent all day with Five and Six yesterday, so I had no idea who was coming in or where they were. We hung around the music room for a while then just kind of spent the rest of the day watching movies.”

“She couldn’t play an instrument to save her life,” Six teases you lightly. “But it’s fine, I’m struggling too, even though I wish I wasn’t.”

“I don’t think anyone here really knows how to play an instrument well,” Five ponders aloud, placing her fork in her mouth. “For as much as I’ve practiced, I still can’t get the hang of the lyre.”

“I’m more of an artist myself, not a musician,” Blue chimes in before you can bring up Eight. She seems to be the only Number without a plate, instead leaning on the table with her elbows and placing her head in her hands while observing everyone quietly. “But everyone’s different. The twins are regular little thespians, but acting and music aren’t mutually exclusive. Me, I like the flute, but you’d never catch me trying to play one. I don’t need to to know how bad I am at it.”

As you take a bite of your food, you look over at Two and Three and see them giggling with one another again, though this time they’re whispering things to each other. You smile slightly, glad to see Three back to her usual, chipper self. You’re also extremely relieved that your assuaging of her worries the other day worked out in your favor after all. Had Two not come back, you might never have forgiven yourself for being wrong and potentially hurting your friend by misjudging.

“What happened to you, Two?” You speak up after swallowing, causing the red-haired boy to perk up at the mention of his number.

“Me?” He questions curiously. “Oh…I kind of had an accident on one of my visits and fell out of my bed. Landed on my wrist at a weird angle. It really sucked.”

You tilt your head.

“What about your nose?” You ask him, eyeing the covering over it intently. Two looks at his sister worriedly, but she gives him a slight nod as if to say it’s fine for him to talk about it in front of her.

“I…” Two rolls his eyes around as if contemplating how to phrase his words. “I saw a doctor who sort of hurt me with her rough play. The fractured wrist was an accident. But the nose…”

“I get it,” you look down, allowing him to stop talking since he seems a little hesitant to with his sister around. “But…I’m glad you’re okay otherwise. I was pretty worried.”

“Thanks,” Two smiles. “I had to get surgery then get my wrist looked at and wrapped up. I was out for a little while because of it.”

“Maybe you can get out of visits while you’re healing,” Blue chuckles, making Two blush. “But we can’t go breaking ourselves intentionally just for that. That’d be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“They did say I’d have to take it easy for a little while, but I doubt that’ll stop them,” Two says simply.

“Who tended to you?” You question after another slurp of your pasta. It’s absolutely delicious, you find, with such a rich, savory flavor. But, you do feel a little embarrassed getting your mouth messy with sauce, having to lick your lips constantly to keep them clean.

“Um…one of the doctors,” Two recalls, then shakes his head. “I mean, obviously one of them, right? Anyway, I’d rather not say his name, but he’s a bit of a surgeon, if I recall. Don’t know if he specializes in anything particular, but he does know how to fix us up in general. He’s good with a scalpel either way.”

Two looks down, scowling.

“I’ve heard he knows how to break people, so I suppose he would damn well know how to patch them up too.”

You widen your eyes a little as you gather just who he means, but refuse to really speak of it otherwise. You can feel a few of the other Numbers, namely the twins and Lav, growing restless and uncomfortable at the mere suggestion of Milos without his name even coming up. All things considered, Five doesn’t seem to react much to this, or else she tries not to. You’re actually fairly surprised how well she holds herself together with her doctor coming up in the conversation, but suppose it’s because she’s more used to him than anyone else. You’re also especially surprised to hear that Milos is a surgeon of some sort. You hadn’t really expected him to be, but then you don’t really know what you expect these doctors to specialize in other than general medicine. You almost wonder what your own doctor specializes in, if anything.

“Anyway,” Five moves the conversation along, sensing everyone’s discomfort. “It’s good that you’re safe. Although I can’t say much about your injuries.”

“They don’t really even hurt,” Two laughs, shifting away from his previous negative mood. He starts to poke at some leftover gristle on his fairly empty plate. Evidently, he was the first to finish his food since everyone else still has at least a little left. Even his pudding cup has been emptied. “But I’m on some pretty strong pain meds, so that probably helps.”

“Those pain meds are a gift from God,” Six comments with eagerness, and you have to agree for the most part. Even though you were still nauseous from being drunk, the pills Yosuke gave you a while back helped immensely with your pain, and much faster than you had expected them to.

“Gale always gives me some when I have really bad headaches,” Six finishes her statement.

“Honestly, with these bright ass lights and with all the junk they do to our heads, I’m surprised we don’t all get them constantly,” Lav remarks, shoving a forkful of rolled up pasta into her mouth.

“I personally don’t care about the lights either way, but I can’t stand the cold here,” Blue sighs. “I really don’t like cold, but they keep this place freezing for some reason. Can we just once have a nice warm day?”

“You can always stare at the one TV in the rec room and pretend it’s warm,” Six chuckles. “But I’m sure it’s not the same thing.”

“It is what it is,” Two shrugs. “I personally think if not for the cold, I’d be sweating all the time. I’d prefer it this way.”

“I wish they’d give us a thermostat or something,” Three giggles. “But then we’d all be fighting over what temperature to put it on.”

Among other things, you almost want to say bitterly as you recall Violet’s reaction to you earlier, but don’t. You want to be patient and kind with the girl, but you still feel as though you’re right to be cross with her too. You take another bite of your dish, as you mull things over, but find that you’re starting to get full with how much pasta there is on your plate. You eventually stop eating, leaving just a few more forkfuls behind.

“You gonna eat your pudding?” Lav looks at you with a fork still in her mouth. “That stuff’s pretty good, you know. We don’t always get sweets, so it’s a big treat when we do.”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty weird,” Six chimes in, dropping her fork onto a now-empty plate. “But I’m not really big on sugar, so I probably won’t eat mine.”

“Has Violet gotten her share?” You suddenly ask, tussling your pudding cup around in your hands and eyeing the thing intently. Everyone stops to look at you, but nobody really says anything right away. This causes you to look up, but you only see the group eyeing one another with uncertainty on how to answer you.

“I don’t think she has,” Five finally speaks up. “Why do you ask?”

“More importantly, why do you care?” Blue scoffs. “C’mon, Ten, she was mean to you today. Who cares if she’s eaten?”

“She’s busy taking care of Cyrus, right?” Lav questions, and you nod at her in response. This makes your friend ponder to herself. “Huh, guess that’s why she’s extra snappy and distant today. She walked in here earlier but ignored everyone and just asked for water. She seemed pretty out of it, but we didn’t really bother to acknowledge her since we didn’t wanna piss her off. We know how she gets when it comes to him.”

“Did she get all huffy with you again?” Two questions you, spinning his fork on his plate mindlessly.

“Yeah,” you look away, furrowing your brows again. “But…for as frustrated as she makes me, I don’t want to just shut her out. She’s still one of us, you know.”

“That’s very big of you, Ten,” Five smiles sweetly. “If you like, you can go take her something. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I still don’t get why you want to give her anything,” Blue begins to twirl her hair around her finger again. “She has to earn respect before she can get it.”

“She can be a good person,” you say simply, looking down. “I don’t want to treat her and Eight like outcasts just because they have attitude problems. I know they can be good. We just have to try to be kind.”

“I guess you did mention talking to Eight before,” Lav focuses her eyes on the table in contemplation. “Have we…really been that harsh on them?”

“I think so,” You admit, your cheeks growing red with embarrassment at having to be so honest despite knowing your opinion isn’t really the most popular. “I don’t think you guys are wrong to be upset at all, but…I dunno, maybe we should let up a bit. All shitting on them is gonna do is make them disrespect us more.”

“Okay, okay,” Blue sighs. “Miss peacemaker. I’ll try to play nice. But I’m not hiding how I feel when I feel it, okay?

You laugh. “If you say so.”

Lav then grabs her pudding cup and hands it to you, avoiding your gaze.

“Give this to her too, if you want,” she mumbles. “I guess tell her I hope she feels better, since she’s been hovering over Cyrus all day without taking a break. Girl needs to eat something. She’s already skinny as hell.”

You smile at her and gladly take the dessert in your hands.

“Thanks, Nine,” you express your gratitude, making her blush.

“Hey, when you get back, come hang out with us in the pool, ‘kay?” Six speaks up, tossing her pudding at you as well which you catch at the very last second. “We wanted to swim around a bit, or at least dip our feet.”

“I promise I won’t fall in this time,” You joke, laughing loudly and rising from your seat. You take your tray and leave it by the counter, grabbing all three pudding cups and the spoon on your tray, then carrying them all in one arm. “I’ll be back, ‘kay?”

The others give you a slight wave before you head back out the cafeteria room doors. As you approach the rec room, you stop just before the doors and inhale deeply.

“I can do this,” you try to encourage yourself, marching into the room without a second thought. Violet, who has been kneeling before the couch and hunched over Cyrus’ unconscious body, straightens herself up and turns her head just enough for her to see who’s coming her way.

“I thought I told you to go away,” she mutters. However, you persist, walking toward her and standing just behind her hunched frame.

“I brought you something,” you offer her while ignoring her rude remarks. You extend both your hands with the pudding cups in them, and Violet turns herself a little bit more to see just what you’re handing her. As she gazes upon the dessert cups, her eyes light up just slightly.

“They’re serving pudding today?!” She gasps. You smile and nod.

“I figured I’d give you some,” you tell her. “The others said you might not have eaten today, so I wanted to make sure you got something.”

You frown and shift your eyes away contemplatively.

“Well, I guess I should have gotten you an actual meal, but my hands were kind of full.”

“Y-you’re giving these to me?” Violet looks up at you with uncertainty in her eyes, but you continue to try handing the pudding cups to her.

“Yeah. One’s from me, one’s from Six, and the other one’s from Nine,” you explain. “Nine said she hopes you feel better, since you’ve apparently been here all day?”

“Yeah, I have,” Violet admits, taking all three pudding cups in her hands, blushing slightly as she does so. “…Thank you. I really like this stuff.”

“No problem,” you continue to smile. You kneel a little bit downward, balancing yourself on your ankles and feet while folding both arms in your lap. “Um…are you feeling okay?”

“I’m tired,” Violet quietly answers you, looking now toward Cyrus. “I’ve been watching him all day.”

“Oh.” Is all you really have to say at first. “…Is he doing okay?”

“…Yeah,” Violet looks down. For a moment, she seems to let her guard down, but her stubbornness resurfaces just as quickly. “But that’s not your problem right now, so don’t bother! I’m the one taking care of him, got it?”

“That’s fine,” you solemnly agree, dropping your eyes to the side as you feel some disappointment in Violet. “I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” is the only harsh response you get. You feel your frustration growing, but continue to try being kind to Violet. Without a second thought, you hand her the spoon as well.

“You’ll need this,” You chuckle softly, trying to maintain your kind demeanor despite your frustration. “It’s probably better if you don’t use your hands and get all messy.”

Violet takes the spoon while pouting slightly, but grumbles another “thank you” before turning away completely. Sighing, you rise again. You give one last look at Cyrus, blushing a bit as you think of Blue’s words about him. However, you try to push the conversation out of your head and put a hand on Violet’s shoulder.

“Take care of him, okay?” You call out. “And yourself. You matter too.”

Violet says nothing, not even turning to look at you again. With a silence falling between you two now, you decide to take your leave and head back out of the rec room. As the doors shut behind you, you give a long exhale, hoping that you did the right thing. You still feel fairly angry at Violet for her earlier outburst, but you figure being kind to her might encourage her to be better. She had seemed to show glimpses of enthusiasm in response to your kindness before, where someone like Eight needed to be chastised and fought against relentlessly before he could open up even a little. You almost want to say you’re not doing too bad juggling the both of them, but you also have no clue given that Violet still seems to relentlessly peck at you, and you haven’t seen Eight in a long time to know how he’ll respond to you after what happened in the music room. You really hope he’s not gone.

Moving along from your thoughts, you opt to join the other Numbers in the pool, deciding to actually change into a bathing suit this time instead of just dipping your feet or accidentally tumbling into the water with your gown still on. By the entrance of the showers, there are some metal cubbies labelled with numbers that are full of folded bathing suits and swimming shorts, but only you, Five, Six, and Lav really decide to change. With only girls in the room, Lav unapologetically strips down and shimmies into her suit, not even trying to hide her frame from sight. Neither of the other girls really mind it, but you still feel a bit embarrassed seeing her naked again. She glances over at you and laughs as she sees your bashful face, throwing a spare swimsuit at you playfully as she continues to get changed. By the time you start pulling up your own suit, Five and Six are already done and begin to make their way out into the pool, leaving you and Lav alone.

“Who gave you that?” Lav stares at your chest and narrows her eyes once you’ve finished dressing yourself. You blush for a moment as you’re not sure what she means until it clicks for you that she’s referring to your scar. With the swimsuits the facility has supplied for you revealing more skin, the thing is far more visible. You feel a bit awkward knowing that the others might see it, but you suppose there’s no reason to feel ashamed of it when they all had already seen the welts on your neck, courtesy of Milos.

“Micah,” you finally answer your friend, not really looking at her. “He’s, um…awful?”

“Cut and dried,” Lav rolls her eyes. “He sees me pretty often. He’s a real asshole, but so are most of the doctors. Except maybe a few, but they’re still shady as all hell.”

She takes note of you avoiding her gaze and tilts her head.

“Hey…you alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, looking up and away. “I mean, mostly.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You inhale deeply and push out a long sigh, but don’t really know how to express yourself otherwise. Lav seems to understand your frustrations without having to hear you speak once and gives a light laugh in response.

“Do you just want a distraction for a little while?” She asks you. You blush when you think about what she might mean by this, but your friend shakes her head. “I mean with the group, not the other kind of distraction.”

“God, yes,” you finally answer her. “I really, really need a distraction.”

“Then get your ass into the pool and have some fun,” Lav teases as she makes her way toward you. She raises a hand and pats you on the shoulder, smiling. “But talk to me or anyone else when you’re mentally ready to, okay? Don’t be holding stuff in so much. It’s not good for you or anyone.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try,” you joke back at her, reciprocating her smile. You admit having her confront you now is awkward, but somewhat comforting since it makes you feel less like there’s a reason to be so worked up about approaching her. You’re sure Lav might take things casually and without offense when you do eventually feel ready to talk to her, but you still worry that you’re going to hurt her somehow. You wonder if you’re just projecting your own frustrations with the relationship between Cyrus and Violet onto your own relationship with Lav, but you still can’t bring yourself to say confidently that everything will be fine even when it probably will be. Perhaps you overthink things, but you don’t want to have to waste time trying to understand yourself when you really don’t feel up to dealing with all this right now. For the moment, you focus on your friends and nothing else.

Eventually, you and Lav meet the others back in the pool, with Lav diving headfirst into the clear water, splashing Five and Six who laugh girlishly about getting soaked. The other Numbers simply dip their feet, with Two rolling up his pants legs to reveal his fairly skinny legs. Concerningly, you can see remnants of scars and bruises along his upper calves, but you try not to focus too hard on them so as not to make him uncomfortable. You start to wonder just what kind of doctor the other woman than Mom is if she’s constantly hurting everyone she sees.

For the rest of the day, you swim with the group, diving to the bottom of the pool with Lav a few times to see who can touch it first, while Five and Six occasionally splash one another and gossip about this or that. It makes you feel good to play around with everyone, though you wish Violet could join you since you remember her saying she loves to swim.

After a while, you finally exit the pool and re-dress yourself, knowing that the intercom is bound to chime in soon. Expectedly, it does, and you exit the pool with still-damp hair to rejoin with Mom. She seems to keep acting as if nothing has happened between you two at all, though you’re almost glad about it now since you don’t want to have to think about prior events. You’re not sure if this quietness will last, however. You haven’t known her not to tease you about things.

“Did you have fun, little girl?” Mom asks you sweetly as she guides you down the hall. You end up shivering just slightly as your hair picks up all the cold.

“Y-y-yes, Mom,” your teeth chatter as you respond to her obediently. Admittedly, it’s becoming second nature to you to respond to her this way, though you don’t know if that’s a good thing. Mom chuckles at you girlishly, stopping as she reaches your unlocked door.

“It seems my time with you is coming to an end for now,” she says suddenly. “Yosuke really misses you, you know. He’s been asking about you every day since he got busy. Calling about you like a lovesick little boy. It’s actually kind of cute.”

You say nothing, looking down while holding your arms. You don’t particularly know how to feel about this news, or whether it’s even true. While you’re sure Mom’s only teasing you, the idea that your doctor has genuinely worried about you makes you feel strangely comforted, which you find to be somewhat twisted since you know you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who hurts you so much. This all comes much to the annoyance of the part of you that still wants to fight him. You want to believe Yosuke’s supposed concern for you isn’t as genuine as Mom’s making it seem, but you also partly want to believe that it is. As you stand there in your contemplative silence, Mom gives your head a light petting, giggling slightly.

“Goodnight, Ten. I’ll see you again another day,” she sends you off, playfully rubbing your cheek with the back of her hand, much to your discomfort. Without another word, you step into your room and watch with a light scowl as Mom blows a kiss to you before the door finally shuts.

Chapter 32: Visit Fifteen - Relief

It’s unclear to you when you fell asleep, or if you had naturally. As you come back into consciousness, you feel a warmth all around your body, a fairly comforting sensation even though you’re sure you know whose it is. As you open your eyes slowly, your suspicions are confirmed as you catch sight of Yosuke with his glasses off and his eyes closed. You notice that the bags under his eyes have faded slightly, so you can only assume he’s finally started sleeping again. He looks fairly peaceful all things considered, but you don’t know if he’s actually asleep or not now.

“Yosuke?” You lightly call him, but he doesn’t really respond right away. You almost want to laugh at seeing him, you think, genuinely passed out beside you. Simultaneously, you wish you could wriggle out of his arms and get up. For as much as you feel comforted in his warmth after yesterday’s grueling conflicts and mental strain, you don’t really like having to admit it. Still, without him awake, you find yourself nudging your head slightly against his chest to see how it feels, overcome by bliss by being in some kind of embrace even if it is your doctor’s. Much to your embarrassment, Yosuke holds you closer, chuckling as he does so.

“Did I fool you, my pet?” He teases you, making your eyes grow wide and your cheeks flush with redness. “You really do like being held this way, don’t you?”

You feel too chagrined to really respond, but this only makes your doctor laugh slightly.

“I’ve missed this,” he coos, moving his hand to pet your head. “You’re adorable, my dear.”

After a brief silence, Yosuke pulls away from you slightly and kisses your forehead. He then shifts himself up, grabbing his glasses from behind the pillow he’d been resting on and sliding them back into place atop his ears and nose. He glances at you clutching your comforter to your chest with your face still red, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you just going to lay there?” He questions you with a tilt of his head. “Come, now. There’s better things to be done.”

You shut your eyes, but then feel your doctor’s hands firmly grabbing you by your shoulders and moving you up. You gasp as you feel him gently gliding his hand then against your cheek, opening your eyes again. You’re barely able to look at anything really before Yosuke presses his lips against you, sucking at yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Ten, I want to do something different today,” he tells you, his olive eyes fixated on your face.

“…Like what?” You hesitate to oblige him, but are certain you can’t leave this room until you do what he wants you to. Yosuke smiles and gives a bit of a throated chuckle. He then drops his hands from your body and stands himself up, gesturing to himself.

“I want you to take the lead,” he explains. “I’ve worked very hard lately, and I’d like you to please me.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Your heart jumps, and you clutch your comforter to your body even more strongly now. “I…I don’t know what you like.”

“Of course you do,” Yosuke smiles. “You’ve seen and felt how I use you. You just have to try your best.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to play with me, Ten,” Yosuke instructs you vaguely. “Use your imagination. I can’t be the one taking the lead all the time. I deserve a little break, even just once.”

“You don’t deserve anything,” you narrow your eyes, scowling slightly. “After everything you and the others have done to me and all the other Numbers…what makes you think you deserve one single good thing?”

“Don’t be so difficult, my pet,” Yosuke seems unphased by your words, but he warns you nonetheless. Without saying much else, he moves to your desk chair and turns it. He quietly removes his lab coat and drops it on the floor, then sits atop the chair, bending down to lock the wheels which have small little tabs sticking out from above them. Once he’s done this, Yosuke leans back against the chair while spreading his legs comfortably and casually.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you do as I ask,” he finally tells you, folding his arms. “So come to me. Pleasure me.”

You blush, looking away. However, you slowly drop the comforter from your chest and move your legs over the side of the bed, pressing your hands against the sheets and pushing yourself off.

“W-what do you want me to do?” You ask him with hesitancy in your voice. Yosuke looks up at you with a sly smirk.

“What do you think?” He coyly teases you. “I said to use your imagination. You have to learn to do this yourself. I won’t be the only one who expects this of you, you know.”

You furrow your eyebrows, but finally figure Yosuke wants you to suck him off. Avoiding his eyes, you get on your knees before your doctor and slowly move to unbuckle his belt. It feels strange having to do this, but you want desperately to get it over with. After you’ve undone his belt, you move to unbutton Yosuke’s slacks and then unzip them, the gliding sound of the zipper echoing through the room as both you and your doctor remain in silence. Yosuke continues to watch you intently. Even though you can’t see his face, you can still feel his piercing gaze, your heart pumping quickly as you feel your unease growing.

You spread your doctor’s pants open and then reach slowly toward his crotch, pulling out his cock from behind his underwear. It’s not hard when you grasp it, but it isn’t entirely soft either. Feeling the thick, fleshy thing in your hands is almost foreign to you. You’ve only ever felt it inside of or against you. Any time a dick has even been in your mouth, it’s been shoved in there against your will. You’ve never had to genuinely stimulate one before.

“Shall I help you?” Yosuke suddenly speaks up, smirking. “I expected you to do this yourself, but evidently you’re struggling. I suppose I can guide you verbally since it’s your first time. If you like.”

“Just let me think!” You shoot back, frustrated. You aren’t sure what to really do, though, so you eventually sigh. “Fine. Tell me.”

“Lick it, my pet,” Yosuke commands you. “You don’t want to hurt me, so use your tongue and make it wet.”

Hesitantly, you steady yourself with one hand on Yosuke’s thigh. With your other hand, you grip his shaft, then begin to lick his tip, pressing your tongue against his head and making light circles around it. The fleshy flavor doesn’t really do your empty stomach any favors, but you try to bear it.

“Good,” Yosuke praises you with a low voice, moving to pet your head sweetly. “Lick it gently.”

You continue to lap up your doctor’s cock with your tongue, moving around the tip and then down on the underside of it. As you lap him up, you feel Yosuke getting harder, so you suppose you’re doing just what he wants. Embarrassment rises immensely in you as you do this, with you unaccustomed to taking the lead. You wish you could say it feels good to be in control, but you know that you’re not really. No matter what, it’s Yosuke who controls you, and you are very aware of this fact despite occasionally letting yourself stupidly enjoy it.

You feel your doctor’s fingers digging into your scalp as his pleasure rises. Unsure of what else to do, you decide to lick down the sides of his cock a few times as well, getting the entire shaft wet with your saliva before moving back to his tip.

“Use your hand as well, my pet,” Yosuke instructs you, rubbing your scalp with his fingertips just slightly as he says this. You blush, but do as told and stroke Yosuke’s shaft while still licking and kissing his head.

“Slower,” you’re commanded, so you oblige. You stroke your doctor’s cock slowly while continuing to press your lips and tongue against the top of it, hearing Yosuke breathe in deeply as his pleasure only increases.

“Good…” he breathes, spreading his legs and leaning back in the chair even more. “Keep going.”

You do as told and continue to lick, kiss, and stroke Yosuke’s dick, your jaw feeling a bit tight as you try to keep your mouth open for him. After a while, he speaks up again.

“Ten, touch yourself,” Yosuke instructs you. “I’m sure you know how by now.”

You pull away from his phallus and look up with a slight scowl.

“Isn’t this enough?” You ask him in annoyance. However, Yosuke only chuckles at you and presses your head down to force your mouth back on his shaft, making you muffledly moan in surprise.

“Of course,” he answers you coyly. “But I want you to feel good too. Start sucking now, my darling. Touch yourself as you do.”

You ball your fist on Yosuke’s thigh in frustration, but shakily move your hand down to your gown, worming your way into your panties as instructed. You hadn’t wanted your first time masturbating since you learned how to be during a visit, but you can’t really help it now. Quietly, you move your fingers over your vulva and begin to circle your clit, moaning into Yosuke’s cock slightly as you feel your own touch.

“Good,” Yosuke praises you once more, petting your scalp again. You begin to move your head forward, taking your doctor’s cock in your mouth more deeply now. At the very least, you’re glad that you can go at your own pace rather than start immediately choking on the thing as it’s pressed into you against your will the way it usually is. Slowly, you relax your throat and start to move your head forward and backward, still gripping the base of Yosuke’s shaft and lightly jerking it as you begin sucking him off.

You whimper slightly as you feel your pleasure rising between your legs, the wetness in your pussy growing as you continue to stimulate yourself. After a little while, you finally stick your fingers inside your vagina, rubbing your clit with your thumb now.

“Keep going, my dear,” Yosuke encourages you, gripping your hair by your scalp tightly as he lets out a heavy breath. “Faster.”

You continue to work his cock, sliding it in and out of your mouth slightly faster as told and feeling pleasure rise in your body from your fingers as you do. Yosuke begins to lean his head back slightly, groaning as you suck him off. You begin to moan slightly too as you feel your body responding heavily to your fingers, thrusting gently against your hand as you continue to slide your digits in and out of your pussy.

“Ten…I’m going to come,” Yosuke groans, gripping your hair with both hands now. “So don’t stop. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

You feel your jaw getting tighter, but continue to suck on your doctor until you feel his cock throbbing in your hands. Immediately, Yosuke pushes your head all the way down until his dick is deep into your throat and lets out a loud groan while coming into your mouth. You let out a muffled cry as you begin to come as well, your pussy sopping wet now as it tightens around your fingers while you feel your doctor ejaculating his semen into your throat. You finally let your pleasure wash over you as you’re forced to swallow heaps of Yosuke’s cum, your mouth and throat becoming sticky and wet as it gushes into you. Your moans become slightly gurgled as you’re forced to take his ejaculate, and Yosuke laughs at you between his groans.

“Drink it all, my pet,” he breathes, moving his hips just slightly to stimulate himself further against the walls of your mouth while he finishes up. “Savor every drop.”

You try to pull away to breathe, but Yosuke keeps your head in place, spurting and pumping more cum into your throat until his orgasm ends. He eventually lets you go, and you pull back with a gasping breath, your chest rising and falling sharply as you suck in and expel air. You promptly remove your hands from your crotch and wipe your fingers on your gown, not really caring about getting messy anymore. Yosuke smirks at you and leans in to grab your chin, tilting it firmly upward so that you’re forced to look directly at him while still panting.

“Get up and take off your panties,” he instructs you with his voice still low. You glare at him angrily, but do as he says and stand back up. Quietly, and still avoiding Yosuke’s sly olive gaze, you move your hands under the skirt of your gown and slowly remove your underwear for him, letting your soaked panties drop to the floor.

“What now?” You demand of him, clenching your fists. Yosuke leans back again and continues to smirk, extending a hand to you.

“Come here, my pet” he beckons you. “Sit on my lap.”

You grimace, hesitating for a moment before stepping toward him. Slowly, you straddle Yosuke’s legs and sit on your doctor’s lap as instructed, carefully moving about to settle your body on top of his cock like you’re sure he wants. You whimper as you feel it slide into you smoothly, your wet pussy accepting it readily even though you don’t want it to.

Yosuke places his arms around you, holding your waist with one hand while wrapping his other arm around your back to keep you close to him. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“I feel like I’m going to fall!” You sharply gasp, tightening your grip. Yosuke chuckles.

“I won’t let you, darling. Don’t worry,” he assures you sweetly, giving your cheek a quick kiss. He wiggles his crotch around, stimulating you slightly and making you hunch over him in response. You lean against his chest and gasp slightly at the sensation, amusing your doctor greatly.

“Is it comfortable?” He teases you, kissing your cheek. “Does it feel good this way?”

“It’s strange,” you blush, clutching his shirt tightly. You had been in this position with Nathaniel before where he was laying down, but it feels different now with your body on Yosuke’s lap. Or, perhaps it feels different because it’s Yosuke.

“You can go at your own pace if you like,” he tells you. “But I want you to ride me.”

You widen your eyes slightly at hearing this, your face growing hot as you continue to blush. You want to get off of Yosuke’s lap, but he keeps you held in his arms firmly as your legs are spread wide over his. You hesitate again for a moment, shutting your eyes in embarrassment, but eventually give into your doctor’s request and start to buck your hips against him, making wide, slow strides and sucking in breath as you feel his cock burrowing into your pussy with each movement. Your doctor remains still, but continues to grin as you sheepishly grind against him. This position feels strangely good, but you don’t want to have to admit it openly.

“Kiss me,” Yosuke commands you suddenly, making you pull away and look at him with worried eyes. However, he persists. “I know you know how, my pet. You’ve done it willingly once before.”

You whimper as you feel your clit rub against Yosuke’s crotch.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t tease me about that!” You shoot back between gasping strides. Yosuke merely laughs softly at you.

“My mistake,” he playfully remarks. “But it’s true, isn’t it? So kiss me, or I’ll tease you more.”

You look away, but soon do as your doctor asks and move into his lips, pressing yourself against him gently with your eyes shut. You begin to peck and suck at his lips slightly as you ride him, tightly wrapping your arms around his neck as you continue to steady yourself while occasionally moaning softly with each movement you make atop him. You then feel Yosuke’s hand slide from your waist to your ass, his fingers squeezing against it firmly as you ride him. You let out a few more breathy moans as you feel your doctor’s cock going in and out of you with each grind against him, your breasts pressing against Yosuke’s chest from behind your gown with each movement.

“Good,” he whispers as you pull away for a moment to breathe. He stares into your eyes intently while smiling slightly. You look away from him, but this only makes Yosuke chuckle again.

“Keep going, my pet,” he tells you breathily as he grunts with your body grinding up against him. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

You tremble slightly in your pleasure, but continue to move in onto your doctor’s lips, finding that he reciprocates your kisses with his own. He continues to rub and squeeze your ass while you buck against him, groaning with each pump of his cock into your body. He lets out a few breathy pants of his own as he tries to stay still, but you can tell he’s becoming more and more aroused.

“Faster, my dear,” he breathes between kisses. “Ride me faster.”

You whimper into his mouth as you oblige his order, picking up your pace as you grind and bounce on his cock.

“Good,” Yosuke gasps. “Keep going…”

He pushes his lips against yours this time, moving his hand from your back to the back of your head in order to keep you on him. You breathe heavily through your nose, whimpering as your pleasure grows. You struggle to keep up your pace, but try to do so with how close you feel to coming. Eventually, you feel Yosuke’s cock throbbing inside of you, and he lets out a loud grunt from behind your lips as he begins to pump more cum into you. He grips your waist again, holding it tightly as he grinds against you, reciprocating your thrusts with his own. The sensation of his cum spurting into your cunt begins to trigger your orgasm as well. You yelp loudly into Yosuke’s mouth and tighten your arms around his neck as you continue to hump and ride him, feeling your pussy tightening around his cock as you come. Yosuke eventually releases your mouth and lets you hunch over his shoulder while you buck wildly against him, groaning loudly as you finish up. He lets out one final grunt before gasping and panting from his orgasm, leaning back in the chair even more now as he relaxes himself. You eventually finish up as well, panting into your doctor’s ear as you try to recover.

“See?” Yosuke laughs between breaths. “It’s not so hard, is it my pet?”

“Just be quiet,” you grimace, your face completely red now. “Please…”

“Are you embarrassed?” Yosuke teases you, rubbing your outer thighs with both his hands, forcing you to steady yourself on him with your own strength. “There’s no need to be, my dear. You’ve been doing this long enough that it shouldn’t bother you so much.”

He chuckles.

“But I suppose I’ll return the favor. You were obedient enough to warrant being rewarded with more of my cum.”

“I don’t want it!” You shake your head, trembling. “I did what you asked, so just let me go!”

“Ten,” Yosuke chides you, pressing his fingers firmly into your thighs. “There’s no need for that. Besides, I know you want it. I can feel how much your sweet pussy is still hungry for me.”

He grinds against you just a bit, making you gasp as you feel Yosuke’s cock slide around inside of you again. In embarrassment, you force yourself off of him, letting the juices from earlier drip down your thigh as you try to stand back up. However, you feel your leg falling asleep as you rise, so you end up weakly falling down on your knees. Yosuke laughs through his throat, amused at your clumsiness. He rises then from his seat and bends over to scoop you up in his arms. Without another word, he sits you on the edge of your bed and begins to completely undress himself, removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and fully tugging off his pants.

Once he’s undressed, Yosuke takes your pillow and places it just behind you, then grabs your gown and pulls it off of your body. You attempt to fight him, but he still manages to completely undress you despite your struggling. Yosuke tosses your gown aside on the bed as he finishes his task, then picks up his belt from the floor. He moves in to wrap the thing around your wrists, tying it snugly against you. Fruitlessly, you try to shake away, but are unable to really stop Yosuke from tying your wrists, the sounds of tightening leather filling the air as he tugs the belt tightly closed. When he’s finished, he releases his hands from you.

“You don’t have to do that!” You struggle against him again. “I was going to sit still like you wanted!”

“Then why are you struggling now?” Yosuke teases you, curling his fingers under your chin once you’ve been restrained. “You just like being constricted, don’t you my pet? Tied and fucked against your will?”

You look at him with another scowl, your face still red as you’re touched gently. However, you say nothing in response.

“Now lay down, my dear,” your doctor orders you firmly, but still with a sweet voice. As you hesitantly oblige his command, Yosuke’s lips curve into a gentle smile. You lay back against the pillow, letting your doctor move it further under your hips so that your lower body is slightly raised. Your legs are now hanging over the side of your bed, and you can feel the cold air hitting the wetness between your legs as you lie there. Yosuke examines your body with hungry eyes, but doesn’t move in on you just yet.

“I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he grins, rubbing your outer thigh with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. “Your beautiful body, your darling, dripping little pussy, your trembling lips…”

He inhales deeply as if savoring you.

“My pet,” he speaks up. “I’m going to fuck you now. You’ve seen many other doctors since I last played with you, but it’s time for me to remind you that you’re mine.”

He spreads your legs with both his hands using darling care, rubbing his thumbs against your skin firmly as he does so. You squirm slightly as you feel his grip, but Yosuke merely presses his hands harder against you when you do.

“Fight as much as you like,” Yosuke laughs. “It makes no difference to me. Cry and scream if you like too. But I’m not going to stop until your womb is full of my semen. I’ll have you whether you want me to or not.”

Without giving you a chance to respond or even prepare for him, he forces his cock deep into your wet pussy, pressing into you firmly as you gasp in response. As he burrows his way into your body, Yosuke leans in and moves your arms up above your head so that he can reach your chest. He hunches forward, leaning in to suck at your nipples hungrily, slurping them up and occasionally nibbling at them while he pumps his dick inside of you. Yosuke moves at a steady pace at first, but goes in deeply with each thrust, the constant sounds of wet, rhythmic slapping reverberating through the room with every contact of his skin against yours. You throw your head back and grunt as you’re forced to take him, the pleasure of his sex enhanced by your elevated hips, angled just enough for him to fuck you easily.

“Have you missed this, my pet?” Yosuke grunts as he pulls away from your chest and thrusts against you once more. “Have you been craving my cock like a good girl?”

“I…!” You gasp, unable to really respond as you’re pumped into and licked. This makes your doctor cackle slightly.

“You’re mine, Ten,” he tells you, thrusting against you firmly again. “You belong to me. You’re my precious fuckdoll.”

“S..top!” You gasp, balling your hands as you’re forced to endure his strong thrusts. Yosuke merely laughs at you.

“You know that I won’t,” he reminds you firmly before sucking in some air so that he can continue lapping up your breasts. He lets out a few breathy moans as he does so, continuing to pump into your body eagerly and eventually picking up his pace. You can feel your pussy sopping wet as Yosuke bucks his hips against you hungrily, and every wet noise that emanates from your intercourse with him makes you blush harder and harder. Eventually, Yosuke moves away from your breasts and places his hands on your hips, steadying you as he begins to thrust faster and faster.

“Does that feel good, my pet?” He almost growls as he focuses on raping you. “Do you want me to come inside of you now?”

You are unable to answer him, gasping heavily as he thrusts more and more into you, your body growing hot with every slick, forceful movement into your pussy. You let out a few whimpers and moans as you throw your head back and helplessly take your doctor’s cock. Your body wells with pleasure despite your attempts to fight it, and you soon completely give into it. You begin to feel your body starting to climax, and this heightened pleasure is only increased as you feel Yosuke hunch over to kiss you forcefully as he continues to pump himself deeply into you.

“Come for me, Ten,” he commands you as he briefly pulls away. “Ride my cock like you always do, the way you know you love to.”

You try to protest, but Yosuke continues to force his mouth upon yours, breathing heavily through his nose as he thrusts more and more, pumping in and out of your pussy with incredible prowess. You begin to wriggle around in your bonds as you feel yourself starting to come, and even though you don’t want to, you instinctively grind against Yosuke’s cock as he expected. You give a series of muffled yelps and whimpers as you begin to come, being ridden against your will as you do. Yosuke grunts in response, pulling away from your mouth.

“I’m going to come inside of you,” he pants and grunts. “And you’re going to take all the cum that I have to give.”

You are unable to respond to his words as you start to yell with pleasure as you reach your climax. Yosuke comes as well, grunting loudly as he pumps a few more times into you, spurting his cum into your pussy again. He continues to thrust while he finishes up, but eventually slows down and stops. He then hunches over you, panting loudly as he gazes into your glazed-over eyes. Your doctor watches you with a devilish grin, but doesn’t give you much time to recover before he continues to pump into your body again, much to your horror.

“Y-Yosuke!” You cry, tightening your fists. “I…!”

“You want me to stop?” your doctor teases you, placing his fingers in your mouth and rubbing your wet tongue playfully. “I told you I’m not going to, my dear. You’ll just have to endure me. It’s your reward for being good, after all. You should be thankful for my gift to you.”

You wetly groan in protest into his fingers as he continues to ride you, but you’re unable to stop him from doing so. Instead, you continue to pant in rhythm to his thrusts, feeling your clit press against his crotch with each pump.

“Have you missed me, my pet?” Yosuke pants, still grinning. He slides his fingers around your tongue, rubbing it between his fingers as you continue to pant and moan. “Have you missed being taken helplessly by me?”

You curl your toes and groan as you feel Yosuke bury himself deeper and deeper into you, unable to resist him anymore.

“There’s my darling,” Yosuke laughs loudly as he continues to grind against and pump into your body. “Now, get ready, because I’m going to come inside you again. If you come with me and say my name again like a good girl, I’ll let you go.”

You shut your eyes, but agree silently to his terms as he releases his hold on your tongue, saliva trailing along with his fingers as he retracts them. You feel Yosuke speeding up his pace again, his face focused intently on you as he grunts loudly with each thrust.

“Come, my pet!” He commands you, gripping your hips again. You gasp as you force yourself to climax with him, but it’s not as hard as you expect since you’re bursting with pleasure already. You throw your head back yet again and inhale sharply.

“Y…Yosuke!” You cry obediently as you orgasm, rolling your hips around and grinding into your doctor desperately. Following you, Yosuke grunts and groans loudly as he releases more and more of his cum into your cunt, filling you up with his warmth as he pumps into your pussy a few more times.

“You’re mine!” He growls, pressing into you more and more. “You belong to me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” You gasp, eager to say anything to get him to stop fucking you. With a few final pumps, Yosuke finally gives one last, long groan and calms himself down, again panting heavily as he recovers. Sweat is now dripping down the sides of his face and on his neck.

“Ten…” He pants, his chest rising and falling sharply with each heavy breath. “I’ve missed this.”

He pulls himself out of you slowly, both your juices dripping out of you slightly as he does. Gently, he grabs you and pulls you back so that your body is laying across most of the bed now, rather than close to the edge. He straddles you, pressing his hands into the sheets on either side of your head, and stares lovingly into your eyes as he continues to catch his breath. You watch with a glazed-over face as his chest continues to rise and fall, as the scent of his sex and his sweat glides into your nose with him atop you, so close to your body.

Without any more words, Yosuke moves into you, kissing your lips just slightly before moving on to your neck. You continue to breathe heavily through your mouth as you let Yosuke touch you, unable to think too clearly just yet while you’re still coming down from being fucked.

Once he’s finished his adoring kisses along your neck, Yosuke reaches over to undo his belt around your wrists. You feel relieved once the pressure is taken off of them, but you continue to lie there with your arms up as you try to regain your strength. Quietly, Yosuke moves off of your body and begins to loosely re-dress himself, sliding his pants back on and buttoning up his shirt again. Once he’s finished, he picks up your gown from beside you and tosses it over your body, attempting to dress you again as well. This turns out not to be too hard for him to do, since you’re still too weak from your pounding to really move around again.

“Y…you’re not going to put me out?” You weakly question as Yosuke picks you up again, taking you in his arms. You again wrap your arms around his neck, trying to steady yourself. Yosuke merely smiles at you and chuckles softly.

“I want you to remember this clearly since it’s been so long,” he says simply. “So I’m going to let you stay awake.”

He leans his head in to kiss you again, making you blush and avert your gaze.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, hm?” He coos after pulling away. You say nothing, but lean your head weakly against Yosuke’s chest as he carries you out of your bedroom.

Chapter 33: Rest Sixteen - Similar

“I can do this myself, you know,” You grimace as Yosuke lathers your legs with soap. “Isn’t that the point of me being awake?”

“You have a tendency not to use any soap when I do let you wash yourself,” Yosuke reprimands you, continuing to work his way down your legs. “That’s not exactly sanitary, is it?”

“You can probably guess why I don’t,” you blush as you feel your doctor’s wet hands glide a washcloth down your body. Yosuke merely smiles at you.

“If you’ll stop squirming, it won’t take much longer,” he tells you, ignoring your previous statement. “You act like I’ve never seen you naked before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m used to it!”

Your doctor continues to ignore your attempts to fight him and finishes washing you, grabbing a towel from the door and handing it to you so that you can at least dry yourself off. You pout, but do eventually move to pat yourself down, avoiding looking toward Yosuke as he watches you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He questions you teasingly, smirking lightly. “Hurry and get dressed, now. You’ll want to see your friends, won’t you?”

“It’s the only part of my day I actually like,” you grumble, looking away. Yosuke ignores this statement too, stepping out of the shower and waiting for you to meet him by the entrance where he’s placed another clean set of clothes for you. As usual, you continue to dress yourself and feel refreshed now that the mess Yosuke made of you has been washed away. Despite still feeling slightly woozy, you at least have some energy back now. You’re not entirely pleased to be awake enough to remember what just occurred, but you suppose you can’t do much about it now.

Once you’ve finished up, Yosuke guides you out of the showers and into the hallway. But, much to your surprise, you’re met face to face with a cleanup worker. They look at you through their mask, or at least you think they do, but they don’t really make any kind of noise or movement after noticing you. Your heart jumps in surprise as you catch sight of them, especially since you realize they have an unconscious body slung over their shoulder. Upon further inspection, you realize that it’s Eight’s, purely by the color of his clothes since you can’t really see his face from where you are. You notice a bit of blood on his shirt and pants legs, gasping lightly when you see it. You want to be glad that he’s at least not gone or dead, but seeing him slightly injured now makes your heart sink.

“Is…is he okay?” You instinctively ask the worker, though you know you’re not going to get an answer. They simply continue to stare at you, making you feel entirely uneasy. Yosuke puts his hand on your shoulder as if to calm you, but says nothing to you nor the worker.

“Yosuke,” you hear a snide and marginally enthusiastic voice call out to your doctor from behind the figure carrying Eight. The worker turns to face the doctor behind you, and you’re able to see a woman you’ve not met before. She has a fairly slender frame, in fact she seems practically like a toothpick with how skinny she is. However, she looks striking otherwise, her silky, deep purple-dyed hair pinned up in a loose bun. She has copious amounts of makeup, you realize. Even Mom only ever seemed to wear the stuff on her eyes, cheeks, and lips enough to accentuate her face, but this woman seems to have heavy black eyeliner and lipstick, coupled with eyeshadow as deep purple in color as her hair. Like Gale, she has fairly pale blue eyes, almost as icy in color as theirs.

On this woman’s ears are small studded earrings that almost look like two little beads over her earlobes, and hugging her neck is a small black choker. She has a white coat on, but you can see a thin, almost pale lavender low-cut shirt on her body from between the front folds. Coupling it, you find, is a long black skirt that flows downward and envelops the woman’s legs down to below her knees, where a touch of bare skin and black boots follow. Most strikingly of all to you about this woman is how powdery and pale she looks, with her skin almost as light as Cyrus’, but not quite. You didn’t think you’d ever meet someone anywhere near as pale as him. Even the powdery Nathaniel had clear apricot tones to his skin.

The woman curves her black lips into a sly smile, but she narrows her eyes at your doctor as if condescendingly.

“Haven’t seen you around,” she notes, her voice a little deeper than most women you’ve met thus far, but still airy and feminine. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at all, in fact.”

“I’ve been fairly busy,” Yosuke answers her with the kindness in his voice unwavering. He remains with a smile on his face, but doesn’t seem to be genuinely enthused to see the woman.

“Boss running you ragged again?” The purple-haired woman raises a brow while folding her arms. “Sad. But I guess in fairness, I’ve been feeling burnout myself. I can’t even get myself off to make up for it with these fucking runts.”

She scoffs and turns to the worker beside her, glancing at Eight’s unconscious body with disgust. She then unfolds her arms, placing one hand on her hip and raising up her other hand. She scrunches her thumb and index finger close together, but not enough to touch them.

“I am, quite actually, this close to asking the boss for another toy,” she tells your doctor with rising frustration, turning her head toward him. “Honestly, this is ridiculous. Why did you pawn this asshole on me? All he does is pass out from a little bit of pain like a pussy!”

“That wasn’t my decision, Lilah,” Yosuke reminds the woman sternly, making her roll her eyes and look away from him with annoyance. “Besides, you know he won’t give you another so easily.”

“The fuck he won’t!” Lilah whips her head back toward Yosuke and scowls, despite her voice sounding as if it’s going to resonate with laughter. “He’s fickle. Plus, you know he needs me.” She places her free hand on her chest. “Hell, I know he needs me. I’m not stupid. If I ask nice enough, I know he’ll do it. I’ve gotten my way before.”

“Too often, I'd say. But if you’re that eager to press your luck, I won’t stop you,” Yosuke laughs politely. Lilah then lays her icy eyes on you and lowers her dark eyebrows, which you assume have also been painted with makeup.

“This thing yours?” she asks your doctor. You avert your gaze, feeling a bit intimidated by Lilah’s stare. Yosuke nods.

“She’s his replacement,” he informs her, pressing his other hand on your shoulder now. “I’ve been enjoying her quite a lot, actually.”

“Yuck,” Lilah expresses her disgust, frowning. “She’s cute, I’ll give you that. But I hear she’s all…soft and sensitive. Couldn’t even handle Simanek for fuck’s sake.”

She grabs your chin firmly with cold hands and makes you look at her.

“You afraid of the big bad drunk man, little girl?” She makes fun of you with a sly smirk, tilting her head as she watches your lips tremble. “I heard that you were shaking and whining when you saw him in the hall the other day. How fucking pathetic are you? You deal with this shit on a daily basis, and yet you still act like a goddamned baby.”

“I…“ You feel your humiliation growing, your lips trembling even more much to Lilah’s disgust. She drops your chin and looks back at Yosuke, folding her arms again.

“What the hell do you and the others see in these frail little nothings?” She shoots out at him with disapproval. “Honestly, even most of the boys are subpar. I’m starting to get bored of them.”

“That’s not necessarily my problem, is it?” Yosuke smiles at her, making the woman roll her eyes.

“Shut up,” she retorts in annoyance. “You know I’d break her easily if I saw her. I really could.”

“Both I, and probably even he, would very much prefer if you didn’t,” Your doctor tightens his grip on your shoulders.

“And I’d prefer not to anyway,” Lilah mocks his tone, waving her hand dismissively. “You know full well I can’t stand the softer ones. They’re disgusting. Boring.”

She glances at you again, sending a shiver down your spine.

“The only way I’m ever gonna see you, little girl, is if you’re on the slab,” She says with a mocking tone. She then flicks your cheek hard with her black-painted nails, making you wince in pain. Seeing your reaction makes Lilah laugh with amusement. “With how stupidly sensitive you are, maybe that’ll be soon. People like you don’t last. Trust me.”

She glances at the worker beside her who stops watching the scene before them and continues to do as they were going to, carrying Eight’s body into the shower silently. As they turn toward and walk into the door, you can see Eight’s head hanging, his body hunched over the worker’s shoulder and his freshly bruised arms loosely dangling down their back. There’s a bit of blood trailing slowly down his left arm, but you’re unable to tell from where with how quickly he disappears from your sight.

“I gotta go,” Lilah sighs with exasperation in her voice. “I need to get this asshole cleaned up and get back to work.”

“Another time,” Yosuke politely sees her off. As she enters the showers, your doctor releases his grip on your shoulders, and you turn around to face him. He seems to be unconcerned by the interaction that just took place, or at least he hides any concern from his expression.

“Why did you let her talk to me that way?” You demand of him, holding your forehead. “Who is that woman? And what did she mean by-“

Yosuke puts his fingers to your lips to stop you, still smiling warmly.

“Don’t worry about her,” he tells you. “Lilah’s not going to see you. Even if she ever wanted to, I wouldn’t let her. She’s a bit much for someone like you, and I’d prefer you not get hurt more than usual. I’d like you functional, after all.”

You furrow your eyebrows, glaring up at Yosuke as you stay quiet with his fingers atop your lips.

“There’s nothing special about her from the other doctors,” he promises you as he takes notice of your angry expression. “She’s just violent and a bit rough around the edges.”

“You say that you don’t want me getting hurt, but that didn’t really stop you from letting Milos see me,” you grumble as Yosuke lowers his hand. Your doctor merely shakes his head.

“Milos is capable of controlling himself most times,” He tries to explain. “Lilah is not.”

“Is she Eight’s doctor?”

“Yes,” is Yosuke’s answer. “Once I decided I didn’t want him anymore, she got him instead. She was happy at first, since he bit back the way she liked. But I suppose now she’s finding out how much of a disappointment he really is.”

“Don’t say that about him!” You shoot back angrily. “He’s still a person!”

“He’s difficult, Ten” Yosuke opinionatedly corrects you, frowning. “I thought he’d be promising, but he wasn’t. Luckily, I have you now.”

“And what happens when I go away?” You pout as Yosuke rubs your cheek playfully. “Where will that leave you?”

“That won’t happen for a while,” Your doctor dismisses this question readily. “So it’s better not to think about it yet. You’re here with me now, and that’s what’s important.”

You exhale frustratedly through your nose, but remain silent on the matter afterward, not really in the mood to argue. Instead, you change the subject.

“…What did she mean by ‘on the slab’?” you question. This makes Yosuke sigh, but he folds his arms and looks straight into your eyes.

“It’s an expression,” he explains. “It means when you’re dead, lying on a table to be examined or carted off or whatever else. Along with the other work Lilah does here at the facility, she’s responsible for overseeing and disposing of the dead, doing most everything from autopsies to body prep. From what I know, the workers do most of the legwork and cleanup, but she does a lot of the inspection, preparation, and filing. Among other things.”

You widen your eyes upon hearing this, realizing that the workers are likely dressed as they are to deal with more than just the messes after each visit. The thought of it sends chills throughout your body, but your doctor tries to calm you by petting your head.

“Ten, don’t worry about it,” he coos. “I said she’s not going to hurt you.”

“She already sort of did,” you grumble, rubbing your cheek and trying desperately to push the grim topic aside. You already have too much to think about. “Is she always like this?”

“Yes,” Yosuke confirms with a bit of disappointment in his voice. “Lilah’s often very straightforward and rude. Like your mother, she can be rather excessive with her moods. However, I think she’s a hard worker who knows what she’s doing and does it fairly well for someone her age. It’s not difficult to ignore her remarks. But, most of us have known her for a little while, so it’s easier for us to brush her aside. You might take a while to get used to her, provided you even see her again. She’s often quite busy, like me or your mother.”

You wonder whether he means busy with dead bodies or busy with other work. You’re not sure how many people really die in this facility, but you’ve been here a little while and haven’t had to face the grim subject in any way but thought. You hold your arms and shudder slightly, none too pleased about the interaction you just had or the looming threat of death that you’re suddenly reminded of. Yosuke smiles at you and tries to reassure you warmly that everything will be fine, but you don’t really believe him. However, you turn around again and continue to let him guide you through the hallway, eager to get away from what just happened and see some familiar faces. You at least cling to the positive news that Eight’s still alive, but worry greatly for him now that you’ve seen him battered.

Yosuke takes you to the familiar hallway and drops you off there as usual, leaving you alone to think on things. He doesn’t really say anything before departing, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. As the gate shuts behind you, you aren’t sure what you want to do. A part of you is still a bit embarrassed and frustrated with everything that’s been going on, so you decide it might be a good idea to try to clear your head with physical activity. You try the gym at first, but hear the sounds of running as feet slam heavily on the ground, followed by a few muffled laughs that you can’t entirely recognize from behind the doors. You give a light sigh and move away from the room, instead trying your hand at the pool. Though you swam yesterday, you admit that it feels good to do so. You’d rather be soaking with water than sweat anyway.

When you enter the pool area, you at first think that it’s completely empty. However, you are soon surprised and disproven by a head suddenly popping out of the water and gasping for breath, the loud sounds of splashing making your heart jump for a moment. You feel a little awkward when you realize it’s Violet, but you suppose this is a good opportunity to try to talk to her yourself to see how she is. Instead of leaving, you remain standing where you are and roll your eyes around sheepishly until she finally notices you.

“Oh. You,” she condescendingly greets with a bit of a grumbling voice. You’re not sure if she’s mad at you or embarrassed to see you. However, she hangs her arms on the side of the pool and looks up at you with focused eyes, waiting for you to say something.

“How are you doing?” You ask her, rubbing your arm. Violet lowers her brows, but plays along.

“I’ve been better,” she admits. “But it’s not a big deal. I’m just swimming to clear my head. I heard you guys went yesterday so it kind of made me want to.”

“I guess we should have invited you,” you softly try to laugh. “But I figured you were busy.”

“Yesterday wasn’t a good day for me,” Violet looks down. “Today isn’t really either, but mostly because of my doctor.”

“Who?”

Violet narrows her eyes.

“Some asshole named Micah Galin,” she tells you truthfully, making your heart sink. “If I do what he says, it’s fine, but sometimes he pisses me off and I slip up. Like today…I sort of pissed him off, and I have scars on my stomach because of it. He doesn’t really like backtalk. Not from us, anyway.”

“Believe me, I know,” you exhale, sitting by the poolside and letting your feet hang off the edge and into the water. You lower the upper portion of your gown and show Violet the scar on your chest, making her eyes widen slightly.

“I saw him recently and he did this. It was so quick that I didn’t really feel it as bad as it was, but it stung a lot more after it happened and when it started to close up.”

“Micah really sucks,” Violet mutters. “Sometimes he gives more than just a nick. Sometimes it’s even deeper than one. But like I said, he’s fine if you just give into him and do what he wants. I don’t really like it, but I know how it is.”

She stays quiet after this, but eventually picks her head up and looks at you intently.

“Hey, Ten? Race me,” she says suddenly, making you blink at her with confusion. “You know how to swim, right?”

“Race you?”

“I mean doing laps in the pool,” the girl clarifies. “You can push off on the sides next to the steps. I can take one side and you can take the other.”

“I’m not sure I can swim competitively,” you laugh, but Violet’s intent and focused expression, raw and unburdened by the glasses she usually wears, remains unchanged. You suppose you’ll humor her, so you decide to stand up. “I guess I’ll give it a try though. Let me go change.”

For as much as you don’t really think you can swim that fast, you do admit some kind of activity would be refreshing right now. It is, after all, why you came to the pool in the first place. Plus, you hope for this to be an opportunity to get closer to Violet, even just a little. As you undress yourself in the shower, you stare down at your chest and see that the scar Micah left on you is still fairly red and chapped. You hope it doesn’t heal too quickly. You’re really in no rush to see him again.

You also notice by Violet’s portion of the shelves that her gown and glasses have been messily thrown on top of some of the folded swimsuits. Curiously, you try the things on, but find that they warp your vision exponentially, making you a bit dizzy. You hadn’t realized how bad Violet’s sight really was, but you’re glad that the doctors don’t just leave her without anything to see with. You half wonder if there’s an optometrist in the facility, still a little rattled thinking about how Milos is a surgeon of some kind. You’re not sure why a pharmaceutical company, even a false one, would employ doctors who aren’t suited to the field if these doctors supposedly do work aboveground as well as below. But, you decide you don’t want to think on it further, not wanting the thought of doctors to spoil your time right now. You’d rather feel awkward around Violet than frustrated about the people who keep you captive here.

Eventually, you finish getting dressed and meet Violet again out in the pool, standing by the steps. Violet swims over toward you, grabbing the rail on the steps and pulling herself out of the water to stand opposite to you.

“Do you know how to do this?” She asks you, and you give a light shake of your head. Violet motions to the other edge across from her. “Just dive in from here, swim to the other side, and turn to push off with your legs. We don’t have to do it a lot. One lap there and back should be enough.”

“I guess I can do that,” you mull it over, trying to position your body in much the same way as Violet is starting to. She kneels down with her hands gripping the edge of the pool, her bent knee forward, while her other leg is bent just behind her. You almost topple over trying to balance yourself this way, but eventually are able to mimic her position just enough to stay balanced.

“Go on the count of three,” she tells you, her eyes focused on the water. “One, two, three!”

Both of you immediately push off, diving into the water and splashing wildly as you rhythmically move your limbs in and out to propel yourself. Violet’s doesn’t push off as far as you at first, but she catches up to you in no time. With every bob of your head out of the water, you focus on catching your breath. Every so often, you see Violet’s body parallel to yours, but you continue to push yourself as much as you can given the competitive nature of this race. You feel your lungs burning as you try to keep moving your body through the water, maintaining your strides and focusing on the other end of the pool that is rapidly approaching you. Finally, you reach it and try to rotate your body in the water to push off. You get dizzy doing so for just a moment, but try to shake yourself back in focus to keep yourself in line. With a strong push of your legs, you propel yourself forward. Even though you and Violet were at the same level, she starts to lag behind you by mere inches shortly after the turnaround, and as your lungs continue to burn, you realize that you might actually win.

You almost want to take your victory in stride, but decide to willingly slow yourself down just barely enough to let Violet surpass you, not wanting to give her a reason to be frustrated. You watch as she inches forward and reaches out to touch the edge of the pool just before you can. When she finally stops her momentum, she gives a few heavy pants. Her eyes light up when she realizes she’s won, and she throws her arms in the air while laughing gleefully.

“Yes!” She exclaims happily, smiling brightly. She looks at you with a wide grin, and you admit you prefer to see her this way than scowling as she has been. You reciprocate her smile and laugh slightly.

“Congrats,” you praise her between your pants. Your lungs still hurt, but they’re starting to settle now. “You swim pretty fast!”

“You too, really,” Violet giggles. “I’m surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to actually be good.”

She moves toward the steps of the pool and again pulls herself out, sitting on the edge next to it instead. You do the same, seating yourself on the edge of the pool perpendicular to hers and letting your legs hang in the water again.

“Do you do this a lot? My lungs still hurt,” you cough slightly. Violet nods.

“I told you, I like to swim,” she says simply. “I wish everyone else did too, but Five and Six mostly just splash around. They don’t like to swim too competitively. Two and Three usually just dip their feet because they’re embarrassed to wear these swimsuits. Four swims sometimes, but not always. She’ll usually avoid it if I’m there.”

You avoid bringing up her failure to mention Cyrus and instead look down.

“You guys really fight a lot, huh?” You casually mumble. Violet frowns.

“She’s mean to me,” she tells you. “But she’s just brutally honest about a lot of things so I’m not surprised.”

She looks down and pouts.

“She gets especially honest whenever she’s mad.”

You sigh as you recall Blue’s harsh words to Violet from yesterday.

“Why do you two hate each other so much?” You look on at your companion intently. “I was told you kind of grin and bear it, but lately…It feels like you guys are just constantly butting heads.”

“I don’t know,” Violet scowls. “If someone’s mean to me, I get mean back, and I’m sure she’s the same. I know I can get angry easily, but she seems to think everything I do is wrong. She just holds a grudge against me because of the times I get really mad and say stupid things I might not even mean outside of in the moment. So whatever she holds against me, I do the same to her.”

“But that’s not really the best way to deal with conflict, is it?” You try to guide her. “I get being mad. I’m sure you have a lot of reasons to be, but…all it does is cause trouble. You have to try to control your feelings better, and Blue really needs to learn to forgive and understand you.”

“It’s not that easy,” Violet tells you with rising frustration. “I know I have problems. All of us have problems. But I feel like everyone hates me or just steps around me, so why bother changing? They’re starting to treat me like Eight. Even when I’m with them, I feel like I’m just an outcast. But being in and disliked sometimes is better than being alone all the time”

“Is that why you hang around Cyrus so much?” You look at her with widening eyes. “He’s the only one you think cares about you?”

“I don’t want to talk about him right now!” Violet raises her voice at you. “Why do you have to talk about him so much? Why do you have to care?”

“Violet, he’s my friend,” You reprimand her defensively. “I care about him like everyone else does. Why does it bother you so much that I do? Why are you so mean to me every time I bring him-”

“Just shut up!” Violet snaps at you, standing up. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to get advice from you, I don’t want to deal with this! I admit, I’m glad for the small things you try to do for me, but this isn’t something I need you to help me with. I don’t want your pity, I don’t need your lectures. This isn’t your problem!”

You scowl at her.

“Violet, you make it my problem when you-“

She gives you no chance to finish responding before giving a frustrated groan and diving back into the pool, avoiding you entirely. You exhale and hold your head in your hands, both in frustration at Violet, and in disappointment at yourself for failing to control the situation. You suppose it was stupid to try to talk to her when she’s still reeling over yesterday’s events. Even you had said yourself that you couldn’t change her right now, so you’re not sure why you even tried to.

Without trying to reach out to Violet again, you decide to go clean off and dry yourself with a towel before dressing again in your usual gown. When you step out back into the pool, you see that Violet is furiously doing laps across it, focused on her strides and completely devoid of any attention on you or anything else.

You decide to put the unpleasant conversation behind you and instead head to the rec room again, hoping to see a familiar face. While you do, it’s not one that makes you particularly happy to see. Where Cyrus had been resting yesterday, you now see Eight, completely cleaned up with some kind of bandage or dressing under his shirt that you can just barely see a glimpse of from the opening of the fabric on his neck. He’s resting with both hands at his sides, and you can see him breathing steadily. The bruises on his arms are still red and fresh, but he otherwise seems fine. You suppose you should try to take care of him, so you opt to go get him food and water. Nobody else seems to be around, so you figure you’re the only one who can really help him right now.

You head into the cafeteria for a moment, which you find is also empty. After making your way to the counter, you call out to the worker there, who you hear shuffling slowly toward you.

“Could I get some water and maybe a little food?” You ask them, putting any awkward feelings of having to interact with the mystery worker aside. “For one of the Numbers.”

The worker stays still for a moment, but eventually shuffles off and comes back, shoving a bottle of water under the slit between the cover and the counter, then pushing a fairly small bowl of what you assume is white rice and some kind of shredded fish that has a fork sticking out from it. You thank the stranger kindly before moving away and quickly heading back to where Eight is in the rec room. To your surprise, he’s awoken and is now sitting hunched over his knees and holding his head in one hand.

“Eight,” You call out while walking toward him. He slowly picks his head up and looks at you with narrow eyes, but says nothing. You hand him the water and the food, looking on at him with a focused and stern expression. The young man doesn’t take it at first, but you insist.

“You need to eat something,” you tell him. “And you need water. So here.”

Eight merely exhales slowly and takes both the bowl and the bottle in his hands.

“Are you my nurse or something?” He questions you with a low voice, almost bitterly. You’re not sure if he’s angry at you, or just angry in general. You find that it’s difficult to tell, but after the nasty interaction you had with Violet, you severely hope it’s only the latter.

“I’m just making sure you’re alright,” you tell him honestly, sitting beside him on the couch. You watch intently as Eight quietly takes a forkful of his food and places it in his mouth. After swallowing a few more bites, he shifts his eyes toward you and frowns.

“You don’t have to watch me,” he grumbles. “In fact it’s extremely weird that you are.”

“I’m making sure you actually eat it,” you shoot back, still trying to be firm with him. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while. I…” You look down. “…I was worried. What happened to you?”

“My doctor’s been keeping me in my room a lot because she’s cared so little about me as of late,” Eight explains. “She’s done it before, but usually only when she’s extremely busy with her work. Now, she’s just doing it because she thinks she can. She could easily have someone else bring me over when she doesn't have time to deal with me herself, but she can't even be bothered to arrange that.”

He takes a few more bites of food, but doesn’t really finish the bowl entirely. He places the thing on the floor before taking the water in his hands.

“Her boss allegedly got mad at her for not doing what she was supposed to be when she actually did have the time to deal with me,” Eight mentions after taking a quick swig of water. “He's strangely okay with her not finding a replacement to bring me where I need to go, but it's the other blatant disregard of protocol and scheduling he seemed to have gotten especially fussy over. At least that’s what my doctor said when she blamed me for getting her in trouble despite me doing absolutely nothing. But any time I’ve been pulled out of my room lately, it's been for her to relieve stress, not for any enjoyment in particular. I’ve been cooped up there otherwise, and now, I guess I’m back to my usual routine. Unless my doctor decides to pull this again for whatever reason.”

He sighs. “I’d have rather been in my room than being visited by her more or even coming back here. Most people would go crazy waiting in a room for days on end. It was refreshing for me. For as cruel as my doctor is, she at least threw some books my way so I wouldn't bother her. And she did feed me, when she remembered to. I did precisely what I would have been doing out here, aside from playing the violin. When I feel better, I'll probably just go back to that.”

"I don't think I could ever deal with being alone for so long," you admit, surprised at Eight's nonchalant attitude toward his isolation. "But...I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

Eight scoffs. “Would it be so bad if I were? I’ve got nothing of interest to live for anyway.”

“Don’t say that!” You chide him, annoyed at his negative remark to such an honest one from you. “I’ve had it up to here with all this talk of death. I’ve been hearing it and thinking about it for days now and I’m so sick of it!”

“It always looms,” Eight mutters, sipping more his water. “It’s inescapable, but it’s not a big deal. It only is if you make it one, or if you have some emotional connection you can’t seem to sever on a whim to avoid the inevitable struggles that follow a death. The worst part of dying is really just the physical or even emotional pain that comes with it.”

“Do you think that because of what your doctor does?” You question him concerningly. Your companion looks at you with his still-narrowed eyes, but nods silently.

“Partly. You met her?”

“In the hall,” You clarify. “Yosuke was taking me here and I ran into her. A worker was carrying your body. You…looked pretty bad.”

Eight looks down at his arms then, examining his bruises.

“She was especially frustrated today,” he says simply. “She doesn’t usually mark me in places that are easy to spot unless she feels like showing off her handiwork or scaring the other Numbers.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with her,” you sympathize. “She seems…scary.”

“She is,” Eight scowls. “Scary and frustrating. I can’t stand her, and I can’t always take the pain she inflicts. She keeps calling me weak because of it, but people can only stand to be knocked around so much before they stop being able to process it or stay awake for it. I’m fucking sick of this, but I can’t exactly stop it.”

He puts his water on the floor as well and rubs his face with both hands.

“I’m too tired for this shit,” he groans. “Fucking look at me. I don’t even have the strength to fight you.”

“Why do you want to?” You frown. “I’m trying to work with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want this group to fight so much, and because I don’t want to see us torn apart over stupid things. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“We’re not supposed to be anything,” Eight shoots back at you, dropping his hands. “This place is godless, unharmonious. Everyone’s just pretending it’s fine when it isn’t, and it’s pathetic. But you know how I feel about that. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

“Neither should I,” you remain unwavering. “Eight, you know we care, or at least we could if you’d just-“

“I’m not in the mood, Ten,” Eight interrupts you. He shuts his eyes and leans back into the couch, his head tilted upward. “I’m really just not in the fucking mood.”

You look down again, an uncomfortable silence growing between the both of you now. You break it by changing the subject.

“Yosuke said you were disappointing,” you tell him. “I told him you were still a person. I vouched for you, you know.”

“Do you want my gratitude?” Eight scoffs again. “I know what he thinks of me. I know what Lilah thinks of me too. It’s how everyone thinks of me. That I’m useless, annoying, weak.”

“You’re not,” you try to assure him. “You can be a bit much, but I know you’re-“

“You don’t know anything about me, Ten,” Eight opens his eyes and sharply glances at you. “I’m not some wounded animal you can befriend. I’m not desperate for your attention or anyone else’s. I only humor you because we share something in common.”

“What’s that?” You widen your eyes slightly, but willfully ignore his first statement.

“Him.”

You lean in on your knees and fold your arms, grimacing.

“Eight…” you murmur. “…A lot’s happened with him since we last spoke. I don’t…I’m…”

“You’re not losing yourself, are you?” Eight questions you almost with annoyance as you struggle to think of what to say to him. “Not like I’d be surprised. You seem to be just like everyone else.”

“Shut your mouth!” You spit out at him, shutting your eyes in frustration. “You think I’m happy about what’s been happening? You think I want to fall for his tricks? I feel like I’m losing my mind, and you’re going to sit here and shit on me like it’s my fucking fault?! I’ve been getting enough bullshit from Violet, I don’t need this from you too! I’m doing what I can to keep things together and everyone’s just attacking me!”

You open your eyes again and see Eight looking over at you from the corner of your eye, but you can’t tell what expression he has with your body still leaning forward. Suddenly, you feel him push you over and pin down your shoulders, your back elevated against the couch’s armrest. Eight looks at you with focused, narrow eyes and shakes his head.

“That energy you have,” he speaks up sternly. “Every bit of anger you’re directing toward me? You need to direct it toward the doctors. Don’t spend your life here fighting only me or Violet or whoever the fuck else that doesn’t even matter. Use that strength of yours to fight as much as you can against everything that’s done to you. I know you have it in you because you’re incessant and pushy with me. For some reason, you struggle to be that way with anyone else that actually matters.”

You widen your eyes and blush slightly, your hands beginning to tremble at your sides.

“I don’t need to baby you like this,” Eight continues, scowling. “I shouldn’t fucking have to. You can do better, so do better. Fight for yourself for once and stop acting like a goddamned child.”

Eight then notices you blushing and furrows his brows.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that!” he reprimands you angrily. “You think I’m doing this because I like you? You think I’m gonna suddenly fuck you like the doctors do?”

“I can’t help how I react,” you look away. “It’s impulsive, I’m sorry.”

“You really like the shit they do to you, don’t you?” Eight sounds disgusted. “Or are you just acting like this because I look somewhat like him? Like who you’re falling for?”

With wide eyes, you shift your gaze back to Eight, your voice shaking.

“You…you really do think that? I wasn’t just dreaming?”

“What are you talking about?” Eight’s expression morphs into a mixture of confusion and frustration, scrunched up but focused.

“I had a dream where you said that to me,” You admit sheepishly. “You said my getting close to you was an attempt to gain control where I felt I had none.”

“You dreamt about me?” Eight widens his eyes more, but continues to don his annoyed expression.

“I didn’t dream about you!” You shoot back angrily, still blushing. “I dreamt about him. You just happened to be there. After you and I talked last time, a lot happened between me and Yosuke, and I just felt so fucking helpless and confused. I had a dream that I had to marry him, and you were there giving him those stupid cuffs from when we first arrived so that he could put one on me. All you did was keep insulting me for being weak.”

“Jesus, Ten,” Eight mutters, releasing his hold on your shoulders and sitting back on the couch normally. “You’re really fucked in the head, aren’t you?”

“I can’t control what I dream,” You grimace, sitting back up as well. “I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t even like it.”

“But you clearly felt something,” Eight lowers his voice, his expression becoming more focused and less angry. “You feel like you’re losing yourself to him, and that I’m not helping simply because you think I look like him. You think you see something in me because of my similarity to him and you feel guilty about it.”

“Maybe it is true,” You look down, folding your arms over yourself. “But that was a long while ago. I didn’t even want to look at you the first time we met. But I don’t want to believe that I’m still projecting anything onto you.”

“But you are,” Eight responds to you gravely. “Especially with how you just reacted to me, blushing and shaking like that.”

He sighs.

“Ten, I’m not Yosuke. I’m not into you, I’m not your caretaker, and I don’t have any obligation to be or do anything for you.”

You look at him with a worried expression.

“…Then why are you trying to help me? Why are you pushing me so much all of a sudden?”

Eight doesn’t answer you right away, pressing his hand to his forehead and sighing again.

“We have him in common, like I said,” he reminds you. “We might as well stick together on that basis alone, especially since you seem like you really need help with him. Besides, you fought for me. You were incessantly persistent where nobody else bothered to be. Annoyingly so. But…”

He drops his hand and stares at the ceiling.

“…I guess I needed whatever the hell you did. So I’ll return the favor. But don’t get comfortable with me being all friendly, because we’re not friends. I don’t like you, and I probably won’t ever like you.”

Eight then crosses his arms and exhales.

“Remind me never to touch you again,” he grumbles, shuddering. “I didn’t like seeing your face that way. I don’t tend to like anyone that way. I’ve never cared for relationships or sex, and I’m really not about to start caring now.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, looking away. “I told you, I can’t really help how I react. But…thank you.”

“For what?”

You look up at Eight and try to smile.

“For giving me a chance,” you tell him. “I was afraid you were going to be mad at me after what happened in the music room.”

“I am mad at you,” Eight frowns. “But like I said, I guess I needed it. Just don’t go telling people I said that.”

You roll your eyes around and try to think of how to phrase your next question to him, leaving him in silence for just a moment. Eventually, you try to ask,

“Eight…would you consider at least trying to talk to the others? Maybe if I’m there to stick up for you?”

Eight furrows his brows again, but looks away and doesn’t really answer. You aren’t sure if this is his way of telling you no or not. However, you don’t have much time to say anything else to him about it before the rec room doors open again, revealing a rather exhausted, droopy-eyed Cyrus.

Chapter 34: Rest Seventeen - Reciprocate

Quietly, Cyrus stumbles over to where you and Eight are and sits in front of the couch, crossing his legs and leaning against his knees with his eyes still fairly unfocused and tired.

“Are you doing alright?” You ask him with worry.

“Hm…?” He looks up at you groggily. “I’m alright. I’m just out of it right now.”

He looks over at Eight, who still has his arms crossed and is avoiding Cyrus’ gaze.

“…Hi, Eight” Cyrus greets him almost with hesitation in his voice. He seems to look on at him with focus, but you can sense a tinge of confusion in him.

“Cyrus,” Eight acknowledges him, still refusing to look his way. “I’m assuming you had your shot?”

“Yeah,” is the only reply he receives from the cross-legged young man. “I’m at that point where I can comprehend things, but I feel like I’m not in my own body right now. You know how it is.”

“You do look really tired,” You frown, observing your friend’s weary face. You also notice that he seems to be slouching more than usual. Cyrus weakly laughs.

“It’s how it always is,” he tells you. “I’ll probably stumble around gradually less as the day goes on, but I won’t be completely fine for another day or so. I can still think and talk, but I just feel physically exhausted. Time feels slow even though I know it’s going at a normal pace.”

You bite your lip, recalling Five and Six’s discussion about the effects of the drug. You also start to worry for them again, but know that Cyrus likely won’t talk about what happened with everyone until he’s mostly, if not completely free from the drug’s effects on his body.

“Do you…remember anything?” You ask him nervously. Cyrus looks at you a moment with a focused expression as if trying to recollect everything, but eventually nods.

“Pieces, I think,” he tells you, almost blushing. “But it’s probably not a good time to talk about it right now.”

“What do you mean?” Eight raises a brow, finally acknowledging Cyrus. “What happened?”

“We just had a really long talk about a variety of things the other day,” You half-lie. “It’s not important.”

The three of you grow silent, but Cyrus raises his head and looks at Eight curiously.

“Where have you been, anyway?” He asks. Eight leans his head back and stares at the ceiling again.

“Busy,” he says simply, not elaborating on his disappearance as he had with you. “You can see these bruises on my arms, it shouldn’t be that hard to figure it out.”

“Lilah’s been working you a lot, huh?” Cyrus looks down again. “She’s always difficult to deal with. Even I struggle with her sometimes for as much as I've had to. Milos too.”

“I’m aware,” Eight answers condescendingly. “But you don’t have to deal with her all the time. You have no idea what she’s like on a long-term basis.”

“I’ve been here longer than you,” Cyrus reminds him with a raised brow. “For the most part, I’m well aware of how many of the doctors are.”

“You say that as if it’s something to be proud of,” Eight scowls. “But you don’t know all of them.”

“I know who they are. It’s not a competition, Eight. If it is, it’s a lousy one to win.” Cyrus closes his eyes for a moment. “Anyway, it doesn’t much matter whether we know everyone. The important thing is dealing with their abuse and trying not to let it get to us. We can’t avoid what they do, in case you forgot.”

“All you do is talk about acceptance of the inevitable. You take things in stride while teaching others to,” Eight shoots back in offense to this statement, scoffing. “I personally think you preach a whole lot of defeatist bullshit. You of all people should be angry. Resistant. I can’t understand why you aren’t.”

“Eight!” You call out in offense on your friend’s behalf. “Stop it!”

“It’s fine,” Cyrus tells you, re-opening his eyes. “I’m pretty privy to how he is. I ‘take things in stride’, after all.”

“You think knowing things makes you so goddamned special?” Eight glowers at this sarcastic remark, crossing his legs so that one ankle is resting on his knee. “I suppose I do somewhat respect you for at least being wise to what goes on here and not being as largely annoying as everyone else in this group, but all you do is give up where you should be fighting. You’re just like the others in that way.”

“What good has fighting done for you?” Cyrus looks at Eight and speaks calmly. “Other than isolate you utterly?”

Eight widens his eyes slightly, but refuses to react otherwise. He moves his back off of the couch and leans in on his lap, glaring at Cyrus angrily.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” he tells him. “You’re no better than anyone else.”

“Neither are you.”

“Guys, stop doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing!” you call out angrily, then turn to Eight. “There’s no reason to be like this. Can you, just once, try to be a good person?”

“How do you define ‘good’?” is the only response you get from the greyly clothed young man who turns his head to look at you with a condescending glare.

“What?” This question takes you aback, and you struggle to really think of how to answer him.

“Define it.”

“Good is…” You mutter, trying to look around the room while you think. “…I…”

“You can’t even explain it, so why do you believe in the concept at all?” Eight scoffs. “There is no goodness here. It doesn’t exist. You know that, you just won’t admit it.”

“Good can be seen as numerous things,” Cyrus chimes in with a weary voice, still looking down. “You can define it as a pleasure, as a virtue, or as happiness. A good thing could be something that doesn’t deprive you of joy or cause you any kind of harm, but the definition is difficult to argue for. Suppose I say something good is merely something that makes you happy, then does that mean pain can be seen as good if you derive some kind of pleasure or happiness from it? Do you uphold that ideal standard for all living things, or just for yourself?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know, Eight. How do you define goodness?”

You glance at him with confusion, then look to Eight who seems to be staring at Cyrus with a fairly surprised expression.

“You read philosophy?” he asks curiously, and Cyrus nods. You notice that Eight has avoided the weary young man’s question, but don’t really point it out. Seeing the two interact is unusual to you, but you don’t really find yourself wanting to interrupt.

“Somewhat,” Cyrus says in response to Eight’s question. “I know bare minimum concepts, but not many. It’s not a subject I think is extremely hard to understand when many concepts can be easily grasped without studying them extensively. The hardest part is nurturing an idea and coming to understand it, growing with it and applying it. You don’t need to read philosophy that much to really do so. You can dabble and be absolutely fine otherwise. You can even live your life never touching the subject and still figure this stuff out.”

“Philosophy is more than just basic ideas, Cyrus,” Eight scowls. “If you just read it enough you might actually see the value of it. It might help you elaborate on your own ideas more.”

“I do see value in it, but I have no interest in reading it extensively if doing so turns me into you,” Cyrus half-jokes, almost laughing at his own statement.

“You think that’s fucking funny?”

“A little.”

This makes Eight visibly frustrated, but Cyrus continues to talk regardless, lightening his jabs at the grey-clothed young man now.

“Look, I don’t read nearly as much as you, Eight,” he tells him in a way that sounds like a compliment. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m fully aware that even some of the things I say and think can be taken as common sense or nonsense ramblings. If I do read, I’ll read more about certain kinds of philosophies that are in line with what I believe, but I suppose new perspectives can’t hurt either. I guess I should be more pragmatic about that. I focus on individuality, on the self, on the emotional harmony necessary to carry oneself through difficulties. You, meanwhile, focus on logic and rationale. You can’t rationally explain what I believe and so you think it’s backwards. Admittedly, beliefs like mine can be pretty opinionated or biased even if other people think they’re worth something. My way of thinking isn’t the only or the correct one. But neither is yours. We just have vastly different perspectives. I don’t agree with what you say. I don’t like how you carry yourself. But I suppose I can’t say it’s wrong to.”

He leans forward slightly.

“I do think some problems, even basic ones, are difficult to find a concrete answer to and do merit discussion. Ethics, for instance, is this way. Everyone has something different to say about it. All you can do is discuss points from existing literature, or form an opinion that can be discussed, one often shaped by experience or outside influences. I’m assuming experience is where your ethics stem from, and that it’s only been nurtured by the cynical literature you’ve accustomed yourself to and sought out explicitly to confirm or strengthen your own beliefs.”

“I don’t just read what confirms my own beliefs,” Eight looks away. “I just…choose to read what I like...”

He puts a hand to his face.

“Fuck.”

Cyrus raises a brow. “Even you can make simple mistakes. But that’s okay. You’re still human, and we’re not exactly a perfect species.”

“I never pegged you as the reading type, you know,” Eight drops his hand and narrows his eyes, not necessarily addressing Cyrus’ statements. You assume he’s still offended by the earlier jabs to his ego despite Cyrus’ attempts to soften the blows, and has decided to throw one of his own in return.

“I never said I didn’t do it,” Cyrus responds plainly, remaining unaffected by this insult. “I just don’t read everything all the time. I don’t bury my nose in books the way you do. For as much as I know about the facility, you may very well know more about the outside world than I do. What little of it we’re allowed to know about, anyway.”

Both young men sit in silence for just a moment, with Eight contemplatively looking down at the floor.

“I’ve read almost every book in that library,” he suddenly speaks up after just a moment of silence, chuckling softly. His sudden shift in demeanor surprises you. “Save for a few shelves I’m still working on, and some shelves that don’t really catch my interest.”

“I’ve really only picked from a handful myself,” Cyrus responds with a light shrug. He then turns to you. “What about you, Ten? Do you read much?”

“I haven’t had much of a chance to,” you admit sheepishly. “I’ve only read a few stories. One fantasy story and one horror story. I’ve mostly been spending time with everyone, though.”

“Literature can be an escape for the troubled mind,” Eight leans back and folds his arms again. “You should read more. You might actually learn something.”

“I always tell myself I should, but…” you shift your gaze away. “I’ve been pretty busy with a lot of other things.”

Eight frowns.

“What the hell have you been going through since we last talked?” He pecks at you. “You’re acting so weird now. It wasn’t that awfully long ago…was it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. “But I’ve been through a lot since then. I’ve met most of the doctors by now, I’ve been through a lot of embarrassing and painful encounters, and…”

You look up at Cyrus, who seems to be tiredly avoiding your gaze as he knows what you’re implying.

“…It’s just been one thing after another,” you finish explaining. “On top of everything with the other doctors, I’m dealing with my own problems, and then I’m dealing with a lot of heat from Violet.”

You turn your head toward Eight, pouting. “And then there’s you.”

“And what did I do?” the grey-clothed young man lowers a brow. “I’ve just been brutally honest. All you’ve done is elect to be offended by me. I can’t necessarily help that.”

“Eight, shut up!” you scowl. “You know how you are. You know how I’m not the only one who gets frustrated by it.”

“Is that my problem?”

You groan and press a hand to your temples.

“I thought you said you were too tired to fight me,” you grumble. Eight smirks to himself slightly, again surprising you. Seeing him smile at all, even if it is in a sly manner, is so strange for you. However, he doesn’t seem to say much else after this.

“Violet’s here?” Cyrus asks you, honing in on your earlier statement. You look at him with concern and drop your hand, giving a slight nod.

“She was in the pool when I found her,” you explain. “She sort of challenged me to a race and we talked for a bit after, but it went south pretty immediately.”

“That explains your damp hair,” Eight points out in reference to your first statement. You’d almost forgotten your hair was wet to begin with. Talking with the two young men had distracted you from the cold sensation you’re now suddenly aware of on your scalp.

“Are you going to go talk to her?” You ask Cyrus, holding your arm. Your friend looks down contemplatively, but eventually shrugs.

“Maybe I ought to see how she’s doing. Me being around might calm her down a bit.”

He moves to stand up, uncrossing his legs and pushing off of the ground while trying to steady his still-groggy body. He looks at you for a moment, then speaks up.

“Meet me in the garden when you’re done here,” he says. He then turns to Eight, trying to figure out what to really say to him, but eventually gives him a light wave. “Hope you feel better.”

“Likewise,” Eight responds, but refuses to look Cyrus in the eye as he does so. You’re surprised he’s being so, for lack of a better word, nice. You’ve not really seen him this casual or open before aside from the one time you wore him down, and even then, his demeanor was more defeated than anything else.

“That was the most unpleasant and simultaneously refreshing conversation I’ve had in a while,” Eight muses once Cyrus has completely disappeared.

“I’m surprised you even talked so much,” You almost laugh, but this makes the young man beside you sigh.

“He piqued one of my interests, that’s all,” Eight shakes his head. “And pissed me off, all in one conversation. But most things do. It doesn’t mean anything.”

You look at Eight with a bit of annoyance as he again returns to his bitter, emotionally dismissive state.

“Why does he hang around that girl so much anyway?” He finally asks you. “Violet, I mean. I’ve heard someone say that she’s a nuisance before. Even to you, it seems.”

“It’s a lot to go over,” you exhale, groaning slightly. “I don’t think you want to hear it.”

“Truthfully, I don’t,” Eight mutters. “But…if I’m going to be expected to participate, I should at least know what bullshit I’m getting myself into.”

This statement makes you widen your eyes slightly, and you turn to Eight with a hopeful expression.

“You mean you’re going to try?” You ask him eagerly. Eight avoids looking at you, but exhales slowly and heavily through his nose, frustrated by your reaction.

“I’m not making any promises,” he tells you sternly. “So don’t raise your expectations. But we’ll see. I’m not going to just suddenly be nice, but if you’re really serious about vouching for me, I might consider putting myself out there even for a little bit. For as annoying as I find everyone, I at least still owe you. After that, we should be even."

You smile at him, making Eight visibly uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” you tell him gently, pushing off of the couch then. “I’ll do what I can. You ought to as well.”

“Whatever,” Eight groans. With you finally up, he lays back down across the couch with his back flat against it, his head perched on the armrest.

“What are you going to do?” You ask curiously. Eight shrugs.

“Don’t know. Lay here. Probably die for a few hours in the hopes that my pain will subside.”

You frown at him, lowering your eyebrows. You still dislike his casual attitude about death. It’s far different than Cyrus’, you find. He sees it as an inevitability to be prepared for, whereas Eight seems to consider it insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Or at least, that’s the impression you get from him. He seems to act like he cares very little for anything, but you’re sure that’s not entirely true. You’d seen a glimpse of his capacity to act like a normal human being back in the music room, and even just now during his conversation with you and Cyrus.

“Well, get some rest then,” you sigh. “See you.”

Eight gives you no real answer, instead turning over on his side with his back facing you. He gives a bit of a grumble as he shuffles over, but ultimately tries to force himself to fall asleep again. Done with dealing with him, you decide to go meet Cyrus in the gardens, following his request. You worry about what he might try to say to you, not sure what kind of mood he’s really in after what happened between you two.

When you enter through the doors to the garden, you see Cyrus standing on the opposite side of the main area, leaning against a wall between two planters with his arms crossed. He looks up at you with his still-tired eyes and gives a slight smile, albeit a faint one.

“Are you doing okay?” He asks you as you approach him. You laugh slightly.

“I should be asking you that,” you answer him honestly. “I’ve been pretty worried about you, you know.”

“You don’t need to be,” Cyrus tells you quietly. “I can take care of myself when I need to.”

He looks down in contemplation.

“We…had sex, right?” He asks you suddenly. “I didn’t hallucinate that?”

“Y-Yeah…” You stutter, your embarrassment rising. You hadn’t expected to be asked it so straightforwardly. “Mom made us. But it got cut short, which I guess is a good thing. I’m almost afraid to think what she would have done if she had the time to make us keep going. How much of it do you really remember?”

“I can recall pieces of what happened, but it’s all pretty foggy otherwise,” Cyrus admits to you, leaning his head back against the wall and sighing tiredly. “I almost feel like Mom did this on purpose so that I wouldn’t remember it too much. She has a knack for messing with people. She does it to most people she's infatuated with, but just does it to me more often because I’m hers. I don’t even know yet whether my memory on that night is temporarily or permanently fragmented.”

“It’s not worth remembering anyway, is it?” You hold your arms and lower your eyes. “You seemed like you were struggling to deal with it. You said you felt afraid and guilty, and then you started trying to say things were fine, but I wasn’t really sure.”

Cyrus blinks at you.

“Did you…want to forget about it?” He asks curiously. You blush, but shake your head.

“It’s not that,” you assure him, concerned that you might be hurting his feelings. “I just worried about how it might have impacted you. Just like you were worried about how it might have impacted me. I…”

You shift your gaze away.

“…I thought maybe if you’d forgotten about it, you might not have felt so guilty anymore. Like maybe you wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“Ten, I’m used to feeling that kind of thing,” Cyrus tells you with a stern voice. “I won’t say I was super happy to do what I had to do to you given the circumstances, but I didn’t dislike being with you so much that it hurts to even think about it or something. I’m alright, especially knowing that you are too.”

He looks over at you and tilts his head slightly.

“…You are alright, aren’t you?”

“Mostly.”

Your companion sighs. “Look, I promise that we’re still on good terms. Is that what you’re worried about?”

You shake your head. “I’m worried about you, Cyrus. I just want you to be okay.”

“I am,” the young man confirms once more. He shifts his eyes to the side with uncertainty. “…Are we okay?”

You give him a bit of a worried look, not really answering at first. Cyrus unfolds his arms and takes your hands in his, now staring at you intently.

“Are we?”

You blush.

“Of course we are,” you promise him, your gaze unshaken. “I’m not going to stop talking to you just because of what happened. I still care about you.”

Cyrus blinks, but doesn’t respond right away. However, he smiles slightly, trying to lessen your worries.

“I care about you too,” he says sincerely. “And don’t worry. I can handle this. I can take care of myself. I’m grateful for how much you care, but you don’t have to worry over me so much.”

“I worry over everyone,” you almost laugh. “You’ve talked to me enough to know how I am.”

“I know,” Cyrus chuckles. “You give yourself more work than you need to. I appreciate that you’re trying so hard with Violet and Eight, with everyone really. But please don’t think that you have to. You should go at your own pace.”

He drops your hands gently.

“But…now that we’re on the subject, I’m pretty surprised that you were with Eight at all, actually,” he admits. “I’ve never seen him get that close to a person. It was really strange seeing him even a little enthusiastic. In his own way, I mean. And that’s really the most I’ve ever gotten him to talk to me beyond discussion about the facility. We've had a few conversations on other things before, but with how he is, they never really lasted all that long.”

“You piqued one of his interests,” You repeat Eight’s words from before. However, you furrow your brows slightly. “I wouldn’t exactly call us close, though. We had a spat in the music room a long while back, and I think I wore him down, so now he says he just ‘owes me’. He was still generally pretty nasty, trying to say that he still disliked me despite what happened and kept insulting me like he usually does. But he also said that we have my doctor in common, so we probably have to stick together for that reason. I think he wants to try being a part of our group, but he doesn’t genuinely want to admit it. As it is, I’ve barely gotten Nine to participate.”

“You’ve been talking to her more?” Cyrus looks at you curiously. “I mean, I guess I’ve never known her to be genuinely resistant to talking with anyone. She just never really does it intently. She focuses on herself and her own happiness because that's what works for her. I’m happy that she’s able to persist in an environment where it’s often hard to. She’s self-sufficient without even needing my guidance the way everyone else does. Admittedly, I really like that.”

“It’s refreshing,” you agree, laughing. “I almost wish I could be like her. I could really use that strength. But yeah, she started hanging around a little more. I talked to her a few times and I guess convinced her somehow that maybe it’s not a bad idea to try to be more open with everyone. I didn’t really say much about it, but maybe it struck a chord with her. She initially seemed to think that relying on others too much was a bad thing, or something that could really hurt you.”

“I don’t think she’s entirely wrong about that,” Cyrus admits openly. “But It’s important to have people who care about you to help support you too. If she’s worried about losing anyone, then that’s a problem because it’s not exactly something we can avoid. I know that for sure. But we all have each other. We can be there for one another in the face of all kinds of struggles. Violet and Eight are the kind of people who seem not to see that, or at least not clearly.”

You look down and frown.

“Violet’s been really mad at me lately,” you tell Cyrus. “I’m worried about her, but I really can’t get close to her right now. Every time I try, something goes wrong. When you were passed out, she was hovering over you and got really mad at me for trying to see if you were okay. And today, she got mad at me for asking about you. Maybe that was my fault, but I wanted to really know why she is the way she is. I think I just wanted to understand her so I could help her.”

You gaze up at Cyrus, locking eyes with him.

“You have to tell her how you feel, Cyrus,” you say sternly. “Before it gets even worse.”

“I know,” is the young man’s only response. “I’m just not in the right mindset for it right now. I’m still really groggy.”

“You’re talking to me just fine right now,” you call him out. “You did say this would lessen as the day went on. Plus, you were talking pretty damn clear with Eight before.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“Are you afraid of Violet? Are you just avoiding this on purpose?”

“I told you I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” Cyrus reminds you. “Or at least, I don’t want to just do it all of a sudden. I know I have to. I’m just not sure I’m ready to do it right now.”

He sighs.

“I promise, I will talk to her. Just not right this moment. But I should at least go see her and make sure she’s okay.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m pushing you on this for my own gain,” you say sheepishly, realizing how insistent you really sound. “I just want things to work out.”

“I know.” Cyrus answers you solemnly. He looks at you for a moment before putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Ten. And, uh…maybe wait till I’m gone before you go out into the hall. I don’t really want Mom seeing us together again.”

You shudder.

“Definitely not.”

The both of you see one another off, and you’re left alone in the gardens. You’re not sure what to really make of the situation right now, feeling as though everything’s just piling up on you even though you’re constantly being told things are fine. You at least hold onto the hope that Cyrus was right when he said he could handle himself. He’s dealt with everyone else for so long that you’re sure he can, and maybe you’re just undermining him by worrying so much. However, your mind flashes back to the time you spent with him in the crafts room and even afterward—Cyrus had seemed so down that day, you couldn’t believe him even when he sincerely promised he was fine. You’re certain you have the right to be concerned, but you wonder if hovering over him so much is just making it worse. You really have no idea how to feel about it anymore.

After waiting long enough for Cyrus to have disappeared entirely, you decide to head to the library, curious about the subject of philosophy after hearing about it. You admit you’re a bit hungry as well, so you opt to take a few books to the cafeteria, supposing it’s not against any rules to bring books elsewhere when Eight had done so before. You grab a random book off a shelf marked as PHILOSOPHY AND CLASSICS despite not being quite sure what “classics” refers to, then grab a novel off of another shelf in the case that the first book doesn’t much entice you. In the cafeteria, you have a small meal while trying to flip through each book. Despite being genuinely interested in what it was Eight seemed to talk about, you find that the way this particular philosophy book is written is so overly complicated that it genuinely numbs your brain and makes your eyes heavy. You give it your best, but ultimately decide you’re not ready to deal with that kind of material right now. How Eight manages to read this stuff so easily is honestly baffling to you.

Instead, you thumb through the novel you picked out, which turns out to be a science fiction story about a woman cybernetically enhanced against her will who turns her torturous transformation into a weapon to fight against her oppressors. This is, admittedly, an enticing concept, and being able to take control of a bad situation is something fantastical to you. Once you’ve finished the novel, you feel refreshed, if a bit stiff in the neck after having been hunched over for so long. After heading back to the library to return the books to their rightful places, you suddenly hear the intercom above you go off.

“Nine to the gate,” it chimes in, Mom’s voice completely overtaking your attention. You suppose you’re not shocked to learn that it was likely Lav in the gym, but your heart jumps a bit when you hear her number being called. You come to realize that you would have liked to talk to her even though the thought hadn’t explicitly crossed your mind earlier. At the very least, you know the interaction wouldn’t have been frustrating or unpleasant. That in itself would have been a welcome change of pace. You do admit that the time off from conversation hasn’t been so bad, though. Eight did have a point that literature is soothing, but you’re not certain you can like the kind of literature he does. Surely it’s only soothing when one finds something suited to their tastes.

You make your way toward the library exit after waiting a while, figuring that you’ll try to find something else to occupy your time that doesn’t require your currently strained eyes. When you enter the hall, your head instinctively turns toward the gate to see if Lav is there, but it seems she hasn’t really made her way toward it just yet. You’re surprised, since you figured you’d waited long enough for her and her doctor to be gone, or at least already leaving. Instead, you see Mom and Sven by the records office door which has its top half open. Sven is standing cross-armed before it while chatting with the woman standing just behind the doorway. The man senses your presence and turns his head toward you, but seems to frown slightly when he realizes you’re not his Number. You avoid his gaze and turn to walk away, but he doesn’t really let you.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” He calls out with a smirk on his lips. “Come here, won’t you?”

You freeze and give a light groan, regretting your decision to leave the library at all. Hesitantly, you turn to face Sven and walk toward him, noticing that Mom has bent herself forward slightly to stick her head out of the office door so that she can see you, her lengthy yellow hair hanging downward. She gives a wide, close-lipped smile when she catches sight of you, her face still bruised from before. However, she says nothing as you approach the gate begrudgingly.

“God, you look like shit,” Sven laughs. “What’s with that gloomy face?”

Gripping the gate’s bars with both hands firmly, you grumble. “It’s nothing.”

“She’s obviously lying,” Mom chimes in with a light laugh, opening the bottom portion of the door so that she can step out to see you fully. “Ten, don’t you want to talk about it?”

“Don’t, actually,” Sven frowns. “It’s not my job to listen to your problems.”

“Well you’re no fun,” Mom lowers her brows at her associate. “You’ve got to tease them, Sven. Have a little jab at their misery.”

“Okay, ‘mother’,” Sven laughs. “Look, I don’t tell you how to do your job, don’t tell me how to do mine.”

“All you do is jerk yourself off with a Number and go back to work. You’re so straightforward!” Mom pouts. “You should savor these things.”

“Uh-huh.” Sven casually acknowledges Mom but quickly begins muttering to himself, seemingly ignoring the woman’s critique. “God damn it, where is that girl? See, this is why I don’t always like summons. Takes too long. I swear she does this on purpose just to piss me off.”

“Well, Ten here is at least on time,” Mom grins at you. “She never misses a beat.”

“Yeah, that’s because she likes it,” Sven jests, chuckling. “She’s always eager for a good lay. Aren’t you, girl?”

You look down, annoyed at and embarrassed by his words, but opt to stay silent. Sven uncrosses his arms then and steps toward you, grabbing your face through the bars. He squeezes your chin and tilts your head up to face him, smirking.

“My girl’s taking too long. You wanna come with me instead?” He tilts his head. “Huh? Little slut?”

You widen your eyes and tighten your grip on the bars nervously, but continue not to respond. You feel your heart beating slightly faster now, but are suddenly let go from Sven’s grip and allowed to relax.

“God, you really got excited there,” he scoffs at you. “You keep acting like you don’t want to be fucked senseless, yet you silently do. You’re just a whore.”

“Yosuke really got lucky with her, hm?” Mom sighs, resting her cheek in her hand. She glances at you with strangely sincere eyes. “What a special little girl. I’m a little jealous.”

“What, like you’re not happy with your pick?” Sven chortles. “C’mon ‘mother’. You finally getting bored of him?”

“Of course not!” Mom scowls at the mere suggestion, whipping her head toward Sven in annoyance as she snaps her attention away from you.

“Right, you just like to play around.”

“That’s right.” A smile returns to Mom’s face, and she doesn’t even flinch a little at Sven’s intentionally crude implication that she’s a promiscuous person. She seems pleased by it, rather. “You’re one to talk, anyway. We all like to fuck. Why do you think we’re here?”

“Oh, I know why, but I still wind up asking myself that now and again,” Sven scoffs.

“And then you fuck a poor girl into her mattress until you stop thinking about it?”

“Well, what else am I going to do for fun around here?”

As the two become distracted with one another, you hear a set of doors open from somewhere behind you down the hall. You turn your body toward the noise and see Lav, who immediately freezes when she catches sight of you. She widens her eyes slightly, then glances at her doctor and Mom chatting by the gate. You give her a sheepish wave, which she subtly reciprocates with one of her own. Despite wanting to greet her verbally, you learned your lesson about doing so in front of Mom with Cyrus.

Lav slowly approaches the gate beside where you are, staring up at her doctor expectedly while crossing her arms. Both doctors finally notice her, with Mom heading back into her office while Sven turns to face the gate.

“You two gonna make out or something?” He teases with a laugh. “Not like I’d mind it. I’d just like to know so I can watch.”

Lav says nothing, but rolls her eyes in disgust.

“And what the hell took you so long?” Sven frowns at his Number. “You doing your basketball thing again? Or are you just trying to make me mad?”

“I was changing,” Lav speaks up with condescension and annoyance in her voice. “If I’m in the middle of something, I can’t just run out the door. You know that.”

“Don’t get all pissy at me, sweetheart” Her doctor smirks. “You’re only gonna rile me up more. Besides, why get all dolled up for me when I’m just gonna rip that gown right off you later?”

Lav continues to stare bitterly at her doctor and opens her mouth as if to say something, but is interrupted as the gate before her starts to open. The sudden grinding movement and vibrations of the bars makes you jump back from the thing and release your grip on it.

“I’ve got something special for you tonight, babydoll,” Sven tilts his head up and looks down at his Number with a wide smirk, moving forward and brushing the back of his hand roughly down her cheek. “So say goodbye to your pretty little friend and let’s go.”

Lav continues to scowl at her doctor and gives an audible disgusted scoff, but steps out from the gate as told. Still smiling at her, Sven guides his arm along Lav’s shoulder and pulls her in close, walking with her by his side. As the two of them round the corner, Lav turns her head slightly and looks back at you intently, but doesn’t much have a chance to do or say anything before she disappears entirely with her doctor. The entire exchange between them has left you reeling, and you’re now fairly sick to your stomach thinking of Sven abusing your friend. You hope desperately that Lav can handle herself like she seems to advertise. Again, you aren’t really sure if you’re undermining the Numbers just by worrying so much when they always seem to be okay with things and able to overcome what they deal with. Maybe it’s just you who can’t seem to yet.

You realize now that you’ve been left standing there by the open gate, but are perplexed that it hasn’t been shut just yet. You glance out into the hallway, but refrain from sticking your head out in fear of getting it stuck between the bars should the gate suddenly close. To your surprise, Mom instead comes up to the now completely open office door and leans against the frame as she had before, her arms crossed and her green eyes fixated on you.

“Do you want to step out for a bit?” She questions you with a sly smile. “Little girl?”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” you tell her, lowering your eyebrows. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure?”

You look at her with confusion, not sure what she’s getting at.

“I don’t understand,” you answer her, your voice low. “What are you talking about?”

“You could run if you like,” Mom giggles, her eyes refusing to move from their fixation on you. “You don’t want to try? I don’t have a weapon to stop you.”

“Even if that were true, you could still try to use your own strength,” you remind her, shuddering as you remember seeing her become so enraged and knocking down a worker. Mom simply gives another laugh through her throat, expelling the air from her nose.

“You remember that so clearly, hm?” She playfully teases. “Would you like to see my precious One again? I’m sure he doesn’t remember the time you spent together quite as clearly as you do. I could easily try to arrange more visits with him so he has to burn the memory of raping you into his mind. Then again, I’m sure you liked it. Certainly enough to want more. I heard every pretty little cry of pleasure from your throat while he fucked you, after all.”

You look away from her, your face growing red as she reminds you of what happened. You're not sure you'd even call what happened rape in the same vein as you would describe what the doctors do to you. You genuinely trusted Cyrus to take care of you and didn't dislike being with him in the least, nor did you hold it against him considering he didn't want to even do it in fear of hurting you. Hearing your coupling with him described this way, however, makes you feel ill. You bend your arms and grab hold of each one again, wincing slightly.

“Mom, you’d get in trouble if you did that,” you try to remind the eager woman to dissuade her. “You know that. You’d be tormenting yourself just to torment me. Besides, you’d just get interrupted again and again. I’m sure your boss doesn’t play games with that stuff.”

“I suppose so,” Mom exhales with disappointment. “But I know how to handle him. He can be a bit much, I’ll admit, but his little punishments aren’t so bad once you get used to them. They only hurt in the moment.”

She then drops her arms and shifts a hand onto her hip.

“Was that one of your little friends?” Mom inquires with a sweet voice, changing the subject now.

“They’re all my friends, Mom,” the words bitterly escape your lips. “What, are you going to make me fuck all of them?”

“Oh, my sweet princess would like that, wouldn’t she?” Mom babyishly purses her lips and makes fun of you. “Being fucked raw and senseless by nine other people—oh, you would absolutely enjoy that, sweet girl.”

She laughs in amusement as your face turns completely red.

“But no, Ten. I like you, and I like my One. It was just a perfect circumstance that you two were hanging around together. Seeing you two just drove me wild. I couldn’t not jump at the opportunity. You understand.”

“I don’t.”

Mom chuckles.

“But you loved it, didn’t you?” She teases again, winking slightly. “Anyway, I don’t like everyone, little girl. Only a few. Nine, for instance, is someone I despise. She’s much too crude for my taste. I like soft little girls. Someone like Three is more my taste, and she’s always so sensitive to me. Afraid of me, even! She always cries when I fuck her. It’s so very cute.”

“Please don’t talk about them that way, Mom,” you plead, discomforted at the thought of Three being taken advantage of while crying. You continue averting your gaze, but feel yourself welling with frustration and disgust. “Don’t talk about them like they’re just toys. They’re people I care about and who deserve respect. They’re important to me.”

“I know,” Mom giggles softly. “We’re all very aware that you’re close to one another. You have a little circle. You think you’re connected.”

She tilts her head.

“Is that why you won’t run? You don’t want to leave them behind?”

“I…” You shake your head. “I won’t run because you’ve all told me I’ll die if I do, Mom. You and the other doctors have made that very clear.”

“I mean, you could run,” Mom shrugs a shoulder casually. “You could try. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to stop you right away. Maybe you could slip right through our fingers when we try to grab you. But I can tell you this: you wouldn’t make it all that far.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

You furrow your brows at Mom, annoyed by her games. You’re certain she means someone would come and kill you, but it bugs you so much that she won’t even flat out say something that simple. Both of you remain silent for a moment, but Mom eventually lowers her hand and smiles at you.

“So do you want to try, little girl?” She questions you softly. You continue to say nothing, looking out into the hall at the closed door across from you and inhaling deeply. The metal frame has a small keypad on it, one you never really noticed before but are unsurprised it has. You know that you couldn’t make it very far even if you tried to escape, especially if most doors aside from the examination rooms have locks or keypads or anything else to keep them inaccessible to you. The satisfaction of knowing what’s down any hall, in any room, or around any corner wouldn’t be worth dying for anyway.

Without a word to the woman eyeing you intently by the records office door, you decide to turn around and walk away. Mom says nothing as you do, her eyes hawkishly following you as you make your way to the other end of the hallway again. However, when you reach the rec room doors, you find that they don’t open.

You look up at them with wide eyes, then turn back around to see Mom standing by the gate now, removing her coat and dropping the thing on the floor.

“You won’t run,” she points out with a soft smile. “But you don’t have anywhere else to go either. So there’s not really much else you can do, is there?”

“Mom, you’re crazy,” Your voice shakes as you address her, realizing what she’s trying to do. “You’re going to get in trouble!”

“I want to be fulfilled,” The woman responds to you sweetly. “I don’t care what he does to me because I’ve dealt with him for a long time. The pain is inevitable, but it doesn’t hurt for very long, and I can easily pretend that nothing's wrong if only you do the same."

You're sure she's referring to the time you reminded her about the bruise and scar on her face. She'd completely snapped at you for bringing it up then.

"Mom, why are you doing this?” You shoot out angrily. “Why can't you just leave me alone?"

“Ten, don't be rude,” Mom frowns, but doesn't seem to become enraged at your forwardness as she usually does. “Things got cut short last time. I simply want to make up for that now, for as long as I can before someone stops me.”

The woman steps forward, her heels clacking hard on the floor as she slowly makes your way toward you.

“So be a good little girl and let Mommy play with you.”

Chapter 35: Visit Sixteen - Desperate

Without having much of a chance to react, the cold hallway floor suddenly meets your back and head, your body slamming against the ground as Mom pushes you down hard. She chuckles livelily as you let out a pained grunt, then presses her heel against your stomach. She doesn’t put quite enough pressure to hurt you, but you know that if you move around more, she will. You lay your palms flat on the floor and try to support yourself as you arch your body forward just enough to see Mom’s face, fearfully looking up at her despite your earlier anger.

“Mom please sto-”

The heel digs into your stomach just slightly enough for it to stop your speech, and Mom wags a finger at you.

“Don’t make so much noise, my pretty girl,” She tells you sweetly. “You don’t want the others to hear your moans and cries, do you? These rooms aren’t exactly soundproof against noises in the hall. If you’re loud enough, they’ll know just what you’re doing.”

You avert your gaze then, still scowling but silently admitting that she has a point. You know the others wouldn’t think negatively of you for being used here, but you certainly don’t want to deal with them having to hear you. It was embarrassing enough with Cyrus when you weren’t in control of the situation.

Mom laughs softly at you as she sees that you’ve grasped the situation fully. She removes her heel from your stomach, taking her shoes off entirely and kicking them aside somewhere near you. Without another word, Mom unzips the top of her skirt and shimmies out of it as she had before, exposing her gartered legs once more. Much to your surprise, she isn’t wearing underwear this time, her crotch fully bare to you now. Still smiling eagerly, the woman kneels on top of you, straddling your lower body. Without hesitation, she rubs your closed lips with two fingers, massaging them gently while you try to keep your mouth shut.

“Don’t look so scared, baby girl,” Mom leans in and breathes in your ear. “You know I’ll make you feel good.”

She laughs then.

“And if another doctor comes and sees us, who knows? Maybe they’ll want to join in!”

This suggestion makes you feel ill. The doctors have seen you like this before, but the idea of them seeing you here with Mom in a place that she isn’t supposed to be doing this is no less displeasing to you. Whether or not they even do join in, they’d get some twisted amusement at seeing you this way and would tease you for it without question later. However, you have no time to really think about this further as Mom suddenly pushes three of her fingers into your mouth forcefully, rubbing your tongue playfully while beginning to lick your cheek. She gives a breathy moan into your ear, grinding her body against you as she toys with your mouth. You try to gasp at the sensation but only end up exhaling through your nose and making a whimper through your throat. This causes Mom to bite your earlobe and chuckle softly.

“Don’t go making noise now. We barely got started.” she chides you while still maintaining a sweet tone. “It shouldn’t be so hard for you to be quiet. You did it before, right?”

You shut your eyes as Mom teases you more about your last visit with her, but you remain helpless to her touch as she continues to slide her fingers against your tongue while licking your cheek and neck. After a while of this stimulation, Mom eventually pulls her wet fingers out of your mouth, letting your saliva trail away as she does so. Instead of focusing her attention on your neck and cheek, Mom then moves to your lips, grabbing your chin and squeezing each side of it to make your lips part. She then leans her head in and starts to suck at you hungrily with her mouth as she had before, giving more and more breathy moans through her nose and throat. You aren’t sure if she’s turned on or just trying to mess with you, but you dislike it regardless.

“Kiss me back, baby girl,” Mom pulls away and breathes heavily. “Like you want me.”

You’ve never kissed another woman willingly before. Even Lav had been the one taking charge when she kissed you, but you’re not shocked Mom wants to ruin this act for you too. She seems to have a habit of ruining things.

Despite your unease, you do as Mom instructs and kiss her back in much the same way as you had your doctor before, though you shut your eyes to avoid having to look at the woman’s blushing face and lustful green gaze. Mom occasionally pulls back to give a breathy moan as she kisses you, but stays upon your lips for the most part, sucking them in and forcing her tongue down your throat. Her taste disgusts you despite its sweetness on your tongue, but you aren’t able to fight back in fear of what the woman might do if you try to. After a while of enduring kisses from her, Mom finally pulls back and puts her hand on both your breasts, massaging them forcefully while gazing eagerly at you. Her strong grip puts too much pressure onto your chest and it actually feels uncomfortable.

“Mom, that’s too rough!” You wince while trying to keep your voice low and opening one eye to look at the woman.

“But my little princess likes it, doesn’t she?” Mom continues to play with your tits, moving and squeezing them tightly in her hands. “Besides, Mommy isn’t even touching your skin yet. We should fix that, shouldn’t we?”

She doesn’t tear your gown open as she had before. Rather, she breaks the seams around the opening of the fabric on your neck to widen and stretch it, then pulls it down until your chest and shoulders are fully exposed to her.

“There we are!” Mom sweetly says in a sing-song tone. “So pretty, my baby girl’s sweet little tits are.”

She continues to play with your breasts, squeezing and rubbing them hard while you wince at the sensation. It’s not unbearably painful, but it’s a stranger and more forceful touch than you’ve been getting used to. Despite wanting to push Mom off of your body, you keep your hands pressed firmly against the cold floor, gripping the surface with your fingertips while looking away from your assailant.

“Would my sweet girl like it better if I use my mouth?” Mom coos while pulling her hands away. You don’t really answer her, but she moves herself down until she’s able to reach your chest with her face. She grips one breast in one hand while cupping her mouth around the other, sucking in with a hungry moan as she starts to toy with you.

Mom giggles into your chest as she looks up and sees you blushing at the sensation. She then proceeds to flick her tongue around your nipple while rubbing at the other with her fingertip, squeezing the rest of the skin with her thumb and other fingers. You whimper as you feel her touch, a dreadful disgust creeping further in your body as it’s caressed and licked by such a vile woman. Mom keeps staring up at you as she works your breasts, amused by your expressions and your attempts to hold in your moans. After a while of flicking at and circling your nipple with her tongue, she eventually bites down just a little on it, making you yelp slightly. To keep yourself quiet, you bring your forearm quickly to your mouth, making noises into it to avoid alerting the others to what’s being done to you. This amuses Mom, who pulls her mouth away and giggles again.

“My princess likes it when I use my teeth, doesn’t she?” She croons. You scowl at her.

“No, Mom!” You want to yell, but continue to keep your voice low. “I don’t like it!”

“Don’t talk back to me,” Mom frowns, moving in again to bite your nipple again while pinching the other between your fingers. The sharp sensation sends shivers throughout your body despite how painful it is, and you throw your head back and wail into your arm, pressing the fingers on your other hand into the floor even harder.

Mom continues to torment you with her tongue and teeth, not biting hard enough this time for it to be absolutely painful, but just enough for it to sting and feel good all at once. You continue to moan into your arm, trying hard to stifle your voice as best you can as your breasts are played with. After a while longer of this torment, Mom finally pulls herself away and looks at you with her green eyes, smiling gently.

“Now, does my princess want Mommy’s tongue or fingers in that pretty little pussy of hers?” she questions almost babyishly despite her lusty breaths. “I’ll let you pick.”

You’re sure telling her you’d prefer neither would make Mom angry and do something drastic instead. You suppose that at least having her face between your legs will keep it away from your line of sight, so you defeatedly look at her and mutter,

“Tongue.”

Mom smirks at you, but leans into your ear.

“Beg for it, princess” she commands you firmly, yet still with an ominous sweetness in her voice. “Like a good little girl.”

You wince, annoyed by her insistency. However, you try to follow what she tells you and sigh.

“Mom, please give me your tongue,” you tell her half-heartedly, though the woman seems displeased by your low effort.

“Beg for it like you actually want it,” she frowns. “Or else I’m going to punish you. Be descriptive. Desire me.”

You shift your eyes away, your face growing more flushed at the idea of having to beg like a child. You don’t want to have to endure any crazy beatings or angry mood swings from this woman, especially knowing how she can be now. You wonder, however, if physical pain is worth the avoidance of feeling embarrassed. You don’t suppose you can help it now, so you give it your best, looking up at the expectant woman. You soften your face forcefully and try to look expressive and wide-eyed despite feeling the muscles in your face still wanting to scrunch up.

“M-Mommy, I want your tongue in my pussy,” you tell her with a forced breath, your voice shaking as you try to make it sound eager. “Please let me have it.”

Mom’s eyes slowly light up as she hears your begging. She smiles even more widely while her face grows red, her hands hovering over her cheeks now as she begins to fawn over you.

“Oh, my precious girl!” She gasps. “You beg so cutely! I just want to eat you right up!”

As Mom obliges your feigned request and moves down your body, you exhale and let your chest fall and relax. Your expression again returns to one of disgust as you reel from having to do what you were told to. Upon feeling Mom’s touch on your thighs, your heart jumps just slightly. You lay there quietly as you feel her moving the hem of your gown up to expose your panties. You shut your eyes again as her hands make their way onto the fabric there and rip it off, leaving your pussy open to the cold air.

“If you want it so bad, my pretty princess, then open your legs for Mommy,” Mom coos, rubbing your outer thighs slowly with both hands as she sits with folded knees before you. “Let Mommy fuck you with her tongue, okay? Show her that you want her with your body, as you had with your darling little voice.”

You wince again, but do as instructed and shakily spread your legs, exposing your pussy to an overly eager Mom. She gently and slowly slides a finger along your slit, trailing it delicately as she fixates her eyes on it.

“Now lay back and let Mommy take you,” she giggles, leaning in toward your clit and starting to tongue at it gleefully. As she circles it with her wet tongue, she makes a slew of eager giggling and lustful moaning noises and rubs your inner thighs with both hands slowly, occasionally squeezing them playfully. You squirm slightly at her touch, feeling pleasure coming to your body against your will as your clit is toyed with. Despite wanting to clamp your legs shut, you try to endure Mom’s tongue and keep them open, not wanting to upset her. As she continues to flick and rub her tongue against you, you press your head back against the floor and continue to try keeping yourself quiet with your arm, occasionally moaning into it as you’re helplessly licked.

After a while of playing with your clit, Mom moves into your pussy with her tongue, curling it in you while occasionally sucking at the rest of your vulva with her mouth wide open enough to do so. Now and again, she pulls out of you to continue flicking your clit, but goes back and forth between the two to make sure you receive pleasure from both places. The more she maneuvers you, the more you start to give muffled moans into your arm until you can’t take her any longer. Soon, you finally start to climax, but refuse to grind against Mom’s face as you had with others because you don’t want her to enjoy you doing so or tease you about it. Instead, you arch your back and curl your toes, your body shivering with pleasure as you orgasm and moan eagerly. Mom continues to lap you up until you’re completely finished coming. You struggle to contain your noises, but manage to do so by biting into your arm slightly, holding your skin in your teeth tightly as you finish up. Once you feel yourself coming back down from your orgasm, you drop your arm and start to pant breathily, sucking in air as you recover. You push your back off of the floor just slightly, steadying your torso on your elbows while you stare at Mom with a scowl.

“My pretty baby liked that, didn’t she?” she teases you as she pulls away from your pussy.

“Yes, Mom,” you breathe obediently, annoyed at having to respond positively to her. Mom merely laughs at you, then sits back up. Without giving you a chance to rest, she slides a few of her fingers into your pussy now, while taking a few of her other fingers and placing them over your clit.

“I think I’ll use my hands after all,” She tells you sweetly. “Mommy wants her princess to be nice and wet. So relax and enjoy it, my pretty girl.”

Although Mom starts slowly at first with rubbing your clit and thrusting her fingers into your pussy, she quickens her pace almost immediately on both areas of your vulva, making you gasp. Mom’s fingers thrust in and out of you with enough of a quick rhythm to be sensationally overwhelming, but not unpleasurable. A steady, quick pace of wet sounds emanates from your body as she works you, and on occasion, Mom leans in to kiss and lick your inner thighs, stimulating you further. The ensemble of pleasurable sensations makes you hang your head back and groan loudly, but you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth with wide eyes as you remember that you don’t want to make noise.

“That’s too fast, Mom!” You gasp as you try to compose yourself. “It feels weird!”

“Oh, that’s not true baby girl,” Mom teases you with a soft smile, glancing at you eagerly. “Mommy knows it feels good because she sees her pretty little princess trying not to cry with pleasure. You won’t admit how good she’s making you feel, but she can already tell that you like it. So lay back down and enjoy this touch, won’t you? Be a good girl for your Mommy.”

You grip the cold floor with your other hand as you continue to feel Mom’s fingers working you so quickly, but end up laying back as told, focusing on keeping yourself as quiet as possible while you breathe heavily and quickly through your nose. Periodically, you let out light whimpers and moans, but this only makes Mom laugh at you.

“Are you going to come soon, my pretty girl?” she questions, stopping her thrusting pace for a moment to curl her fingers and rub against your g-spot. Your body sucks her fingers further in, feeling pleasure through her touch. Your response greatly amuses the woman before you, her face blushing as she toys with you more. She uncurls her fingers and continues to thrust again.

“Come for Mommy, won’t you baby?” She grins hungrily. “Come on, now! And tell Mommy you like her fingers inside of you when you come, alright?”

You groan agonizingly as your body is tormented by Mom’s touch, and you can’t bring yourself to fight your pleasure. Not long after she gives her order, you come again, your pussy wrapping eagerly around the woman’s fingers and sucking them in more as you do. Unable to stop yourself, you buck slightly against Mom’s digits as you orgasm, groaning loudly but muffledly into your arm and pressing your fingers into the floor firmly as you let yourself go.

“I-I like Mommy’s fingers in my pussy!” You obediently grunt from behind your arm as you continue to ride your orgasm out.

“That’s a good, good girl!” Mom sweetly praises you while blushing in infatuation at your response. She continues moving her fingers around your vulva while you finish up. “So cute my pretty princess is when she comes for me!”

After a moment of bliss, you come back down from your climax and pant even more heavily now, dropping your arm back to your side and closing your eyes as you try to recover. While you try to re-compose yourself, Mom removes her blouse slowly, then pulls your scrunched-up gown up to force it off of you. Though you have to raise your arms for her, you press them back against the floor by your sides once you’ve been undressed. Once she’s satisfied with your nudity, Mom tosses your gown aside and moves forward a little bit, straddling one of your legs while lifting the other and bending it over her slim shoulder. The act makes you look at her with worry, but you continue to stay still nonetheless while she maneuvers you.

“Mommy wants to feel good too, you know,” the woman coyly grins. “We’ve never done this before, but it isn’t any different than being ridden by a man.”

She smiles.

“Unless, of course, you already know that.”

“I wouldn’t,” you lie and wince as Mom presses her vulva against yours, making slow, wide strides as she thrusts against you.

“Have I really been your first for everything with a woman?” Mom laughs. You grit your teeth as you feel your wet pussy being ground against by Mom’s. Despite not having touched herself once, you can feel that her crotch is already fairly soaked and sticky.

“Y…yes, Mom,” you lie again. “But I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t ask if you did, my sweet baby,” Mom giggles. “But if you don’t love your Mommy, then bad things might happen. So make sure you always listen to me, little girl.”

You wince as you feel Mom’s bare pussy pressing against you with each of her thrusts and strides. Though you did something like this with Lav before, you realize you’ve never been ridden with skin-to-skin contact by a woman. Not only that, but this position is far different than the one you were in before. The way Mom rubs up against you and moans while keeping your leg in place makes you feel dirty. Perhaps you only dislike it utterly because it’s her.

“Does it feel good?” Mom asks you again, moving her hand down your leg and rubbing the part of your ass that’s exposed. “Do you like being ridden by your Mommy, my pretty princess?”

You grunt as she thrusts against you again, your clit being stimulated by her movements and her weight.

“Y-yes, Mom,” you lie as your hands clench. You’re too afraid to really talk back to her like you do with other doctors sometimes. You still wonder if being hurt is worth mouthing off when it comes to Mom, but you’re afraid of causing a scene now since you’re so close in proximity to the other Numbers. You wonder if they even realize that something’s wrong. The more you’re fucked, the more you silently wish they would break open the doors and try to save you. But you know that they won’t.

“Now let’s pick up the pace, hmm?” Mom sweetly croons as she begins to buck faster against you. This makes you let out another moan, but when you try to move your arm back to your mouth, Mom leans over and pins both of your wrists down, leaving your leg leaning against her body as she continues to ride you. This sudden act causes your eyes to widen, and you grit your teeth again as you try to fight against the pleasure.

“No cheating this time, my pretty,” Mom laughs at you, digging her nails lightly into your skin as she feels you trying to fight back. “Either you contain your voice on your own, or you cry out and let everyone hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“That’s not fair!” You quietly shoot back at her with your brows furrowing. You give another whimper as Mom bucks against you yet again, and she merely cocks her head as she watches you struggling to contain yourself.

“Life’s not fair, little girl,” she tells you firmly, giving a moan of her own as she feels her clit rubbing against yours. “You choose how you want to react to it. You can’t change anything otherwise when you’re not the one calling the shots.”

Mom then smiles sweetly.

“Besides, don’t you like this?”

She rolls her hips around and thrusts against you again, making you grunt as you feel pleasure from the stimulation. You look at the woman scornfully, but she doesn’t seem quite phased by this reaction.

“Come now, my little girl,” Mom babyishly speaks to you while continuing to grind against your body and pin your wrists. “You liked it so much just a minute ago. You can’t tell Mommy you don’t still enjoy it.”

As you tilt your head back in defeat, Mom begins to laugh gleefully at you, quickening her thrusting pace while throwing her head back and moaning. She glances down at you with her lustful green eyes, her face red as she moves her body over yours. You’re left to be ridden by her helplessly, blushing as you lay there unable to do anything. Despite trying again to fight against the rising pleasure, you find it unavoidable as your clit and labia are stimulated and rubbed against by Mom’s. In moments, you feel yourself letting go again, bucking unwillingly against Mom and coming. You try biting your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but one loud wail escapes your lips despite your best efforts. Mom soon climaxes after you, laughing as she groans in ecstasy. She throws her head back again and moans loudly, giving a long exhale of air as she does so. You’re absolutely sure by now that someone must have heard you both, but you’re too busy dealing with the situation at hand to care at the moment.

You shut your eyes and pant as you come back down, your hands trembling as frustration wells inside of you. Mom slowly moves her hand to your leg on her shoulder and gently lowers it off of her, smiling sweetly. In anger, you try to push her off of you with your free hand, but she pins your wrist back down again, chuckling. As you open your eyes, you feel Mom’s nails digging even further into your skin with a tightening grip, the sensation making you grimace.

“Now, now, my little girl,” She chides you. “You don’t want to make Mommy angry, do you?”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” You shoot back, not trying to lower your voice anymore. Mom merely shakes her head, her smile still plastered on her face.

“You’re innocent,” she tells you simply, her sweet voice remaining in every word. “And you’re important to me. Playing with you is fun, Ten. You make it fun.”

Mom leans forward against you, her face hovering over yours as you turn your head toward the rec room doors nearby to avoid looking at her. You can feel the woman’s plump breasts pressing against yours, the lacy fabric of her bra touching your bare skin somewhat roughly. Mom places her lips delicately on your cheek and begins to kiss it, her voice murmuring and low as she moans sweetly into you.

“Doctor Weiss,” a sudden, firm voice calls out loudly from the other end of the hall, echoing against the walls. You widen your eyes at the familiarity of it, turning your head in the opposite direction only to see your doctor standing by the open gate with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t look particularly pleased.

You shift your gaze back to Mom, noting that she’s stopped dead in her tracks with her own eyes opened widely at the mention of her last name. You assume by her face that she’s far more distressed than furious, but you’re proven wrong when she grips your wrists even more firmly, drawing a bit of blood from your skin as her nails press even harder into you. The sensation makes you wince and whimper slightly, but you aren’t able to stop her from doing what she’s doing.

Despite her initial reaction, Mom’s pink lips form a crooked smile and she forces herself to remain upbeat. She looks over at Yosuke with eagerness and giggles.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon, cutie doctor!” She playfully calls out, but Yosuke remains unmoved. “But now that you’re here, wouldn’t you like to help me with her? I’m already her Mommy. You could be her daddy, right? She could be ours.”

Mom looks back down at you and grins.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Ten?”

You avoid her gaze, blushing at the idea, but disgusted by it nonetheless. You realize, then that Yosuke has said nothing else since he called Mom by her last name. However, he starts to walk toward the both of you calmly, stopping once he’s reached you. Mom begins to turn her head to look up at Yosuke, but is given no time to react before he raises his leg and kicks her side hard, pushing her off of you with enough force for her to completely fall over. Since her nails were still in your skin, she cuts across your wrists when she’s knocked down. This makes you yelp slightly in pain, and with your arms now free, you grip one wrist and hold it close to your torso, assessing the damage which looks to be just enough for the scratch to leave a bloody mark. It looks as if it might heal fine, but you’re not sure.

Mom groans as she reels from the pain in her side, her hair falling down over her face and hiding her expression from you. Seeing her like this makes you tremble in fear with how she might react, but she doesn’t appear to get angry. Instead, she strangely starts to laugh.

“Come now, Yosuke,” She calls out as your doctor begins to remove his coat. “You know we have to share. She’s not just yours.”

“I didn’t permit you to see her,” Yosuke tells her firmly, his voice grave. “I know how things are around here. But you know you have to wait your turn. You’re crossing the line.”

Yosuke kneels down with his coat in hand and lifts your torso up from the floor. He then wraps his coat snugly all around your naked body, your arms encased in it as they’re still being held by your chest. Without giving you a chance to say anything or react, he lifts you up in his arms and stands himself back up.

“You act like it’s so surprising that I would,” Mom chuckles half-heartedly, gripping her side. “You would do the same if you felt how I do. And if you keep going the way you are now, you will. But despite knowing that I’m not the only one who would take advantage of a situation before me, you let her see everyone anyway. Why is it suddenly so different with me? With her? Protocol’s not the only thing bothering you, is it, cutie doctor?”

You blush as Yosuke’s grip on your body tightens, your side pressing up against his chest more as you’re carried. Without really answering her, your doctor steps toward Mom and kicks her hard on the side again, making her gasp in pain.

“I give you a pass on everything,” Yosuke answers the woman firmly. “I’m always lenient with you. I give you everything you ask for and put up with everything you do. But this is different. I won’t be lenient on this.”

“You…keep kicking me around like that and you’re going to get in trouble…” Mom grunts, moving herself up weakly and sitting on her knees. She seems to ignore Yosuke’s statement, but you’re not sure why. As she tilts her head up and to the side to look at your doctor, you’re surprised to see that she’s still smiling.

“You’re the one who acted out of line,” Yosuke tells her without hesitation. “He’s going to get after you for this. He’s going to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

Mom laughs loudly at his statement, using her fingers to take some hair hanging in front of her right eye and moving it behind her ear now. With her bruise now more visible, she gazes at Yosuke with a wide grin.

“He already did,” she tells him with an as-a-matter-of-fact tone, making your heart beat faster as you get her implication. Mom then crawls over to Yosuke’s feet and clutches the lowermost part of his left pant leg eagerly, still looking up at him desperately.

“Come on now, Yosuke,” she fakely pleads with a babyish voice. “Don’t you want to fuck her together? We still have time. It’ll be so fun.”

Your doctor glares at her, saying nothing. When Mom refuses to let go of him, he raises his other leg and kicks her in the face, pressing the bottom of his loafer against it and shoving her back hard once more. Mom grunts in pain as she falls over, but she sits back up and looks at Yosuke with her green eyes. Her expression doesn’t seem enraged, but you can see the woman shaking as she tries to keep herself composed. This, you find, is even scarier than openly seeing her angry, perhaps because you’re anticipating her reaction.

Mom’s nose is now bleeding and slightly bruised, but she puts a hand over the area and lightly cups it.

“Yosuke,” she calls out firmly, her voice shaking with anger. “Call me ‘mother’.”

Your doctor merely looks at Mom, his narrow gaze unshaken. Without a word, he turns around, carrying you away in his arms. As he starts to make his way toward the gate, you hear Mom slam what you assume to be one of her fists against the floor, since you hear a loud THUD against the hard surface from behind your doctor.

“YOSUKE!” Mom screams furiously, her frenzied voice reverberating throughout the entire hallway. The sudden outburst makes your doctor stop, but he doesn’t seem afraid or disturbed by Mom’s tone. Instead, he gives a light sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to think. As he does so, the doors on the other end of the hallway suddenly open, and your heart jumps as you hear the mechanic whirring and the loud swoosh sounds that follow. Instantly, you whip your head toward the now open doors and see two workers standing there, with a wheeled bed in between them. Only one seems to be moving it forward, but the other is merely standing there. You notice that they have one latex glove instead of the usual black, which is striking to you since you recall being told the workers are diligent about staying in uniform. You assume that would also mean following the dress code precisely.

You realize, then, why they have a different glove at all when you really study it. In this worker’s hand is a full syringe, one you’re sure they need a free hand to work properly. You only hope that it’s the drug used to knock people out rather than something lethal. If Mom were to suddenly die now, you’re not sure what would happen to Cyrus.

The strange worker moves their head toward Yosuke to briefly stare at him, but says nothing as they proceed to walk past him. The other worker follows, ushering the wheeled bed forward. Before Yosuke whisks you away, you peek into the open doors of the other hallway now, but are disappointed to find just another plain stretch of walls, and one strangely devoid of any doors at that. However, you can see that the end of the long hall splits to the left and right, indicating more areas to explore.

Without having a chance to see past your doctor’s shoulder to peek at what’s going to happen to Mom, you’re whisked around the corner and into the hallway with all the bedroom and examination room doors. Your heart jumps again as you hear a light scuffle, with Mom letting out pained grunts as you presume she’s being held down. No words, however, can be heard from her or the workers.

As you’re taken down the hall, you look up at your doctor with worried eyes, but say nothing. He doesn’t even seem to be acknowledging you, instead focused intently on something else—wandering thoughts, you suppose. You’re sure the exchange that just took place was no less displeasing for him than it was for you, but you’re not sure why Mom reacted to Yosuke the way she did beyond just being mad at him for not respecting her. In fact, you’re not even sure why she didn’t snap at him sooner.

When Yosuke reaches your set of rooms, he stops and moves his head down to look at you.

“Ten,” he speaks softly, finally acknowledging you. “Are you alright?”

You look at him still with worry in your eyes, but give a slight nod. This makes Yosuke smile slightly, almost warmly.

“I’m glad,” he says gently, walking on and taking you to your examination room. “Now let’s get you taken care of.”

Chapter 36: Visit Seventeen - Rectify

“Ow!” You wince as Yosuke dabs peroxide on your cut wrists. You want to recoil in response to the pain, but your doctor keeps your palm-up hand firmly in his as he tends to you. Currently, you’re seated on your examination room bed, your legs hanging off the side while Yosuke sits in his stool before you. His coat is still around your body with its sleeves rolled up, and the main folds are now closed so that you’re not so nakedly exposed.

“You’re lucky these cuts weren’t too deep,” Yosuke speaks up as he continues to clean your wounds. “You could have been seriously hurt if she’d been digging her nails in hard enough. Had I seen her doing it beforehand, I might not have kicked her off you so suddenly.”

You say nothing, keeping your eyes to the floor as your doctor’s gloved hand guides a wet cotton ball across your cuts. You wince again at the painful sensation, but try to stay still as your doctor cleans you. When he’s finished, he puts the bloodied cotton ball down in his lap among a few others and picks up some rolled-up gauze and cotton squares he’d placed by you. He gently takes your hands, one by one, and places the cotton over your cuts before wrapping the mesh fabric around each wrist tightly, but not enough to be uncomfortable. He cuts the leftover material with scissors also left by your side, then makes sure that the wrappings are in place before dropping your hands entirely. When you’re free, you put both your hands in your lap, still looking down.

“Don’t read into it much, but…thank you,” you hesitantly tell your doctor with a low voice. “For saving me, I mean.”

Yosuke curls the bare fingers of one hand under your chin and lifts your head up slightly, making you look at him. He smiles warmly, gliding a thumb over your lips.

“I’ll always take care of you, my dear” he promises. “You know that.”

You blush at his words where they would have disgusted you before, but your doctor doesn’t stay where he is to interact with you further. Instead, he drops his hand and rises, taking all the materials he used on you and putting them back in the cabinets before promptly discarding the cotton balls and glove into a nearby bin.

“What happened back there?” You suddenly ask, still reeling from Mom’s interaction with your doctor. Despite everything just having happened, you still feel frazzled enough by it all to not really feel like it was even real. Yosuke inhales through his nose and gives a light sigh.

“Your mother snapped,” he tells you simply. “But I’m sure you’re already aware.”

“I’ve been seeing her angry more and more lately. But I’ve never seen her this bad,” you look away, rubbing your forearm. “I don’t know what happened. Or, I guess I just don’t know why it suddenly did.”

“I think she’s a little too obsessed with you right now,” Yosuke answers without hesitation. He then moves toward the stool he’d been sitting in and lightly drags it back toward one of the cabinets. “My apologies for promising she would take care of you. I said she was trustworthy. This is usually true, but perhaps I misjudged just how much she liked you. Your mother acts very strangely when she gets a little too infatuated with something or someone. It’s happened before with some new Numbers, but I’ve never seen her go out of her way to disobey our boss that blatantly. Or to disrespect me. Not like this, anyway.”

You look up at him suddenly, your eyes full of worry.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll hurt you?” You ask. “She’s not as frail as I thought she was.”

“I don’t like her all the time, but I’m not afraid of her in the least,” Yosuke shakes his head and crosses his arms. “If anything, I always try to avoid making her angry if I can help it merely because dealing with her is a hassle. But evidently, this wasn’t one of those times where I could.”

He shifts his gaze to you then, his olive eyes fixating on your face.

“Ten, I noticed that bruise under her eye,” Yosuke mentions with a serious tone to his voice. “She mentioned having to deal with our superior already. Is there something I should know?”

Your heart skips a beat at his question, and you look away from Yosuke nervously. However, he steps forward, unfolding his arms and grabbing your chin again to keep your face fixated on him, gripping it more firmly now.

“What happened during your last visit with her?” He questions you straightforwardly. “Did your mother do something she wasn’t supposed to when I wasn’t here to stop it?”

You look on at him somewhat fearfully, but refuse to tell him the truth. Instead of speaking, you shake your head slightly. However, Yosuke doesn’t seem pleased by this reaction. He pushes you down across the bed and presses his hands into the sheets on either side of your head, staring straight into you with focused eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Ten,” he warns you. “Look at me and tell me the truth. You have to be honest with me so that I can protect you.”

“…Protect me…?” You blush. Your hands begin to shake slightly, your heart beating much faster now. Despite being taken aback by his second statement, you remain focused on your doctor. You’re still too afraid of Mom hurting Cyrus to really tell Yosuke the truth, so you refuse to.

“Nothing happened,” you tell him point blank. “She had that bruise already. Whatever it was that happened to her, it was before she saw me.”

Yosuke continues to stare at you in assessment, but eventually closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. He pushes off of the bed and stands back up, crossing his arms again. With your heart still pounding, you sit yourself back up with your hands back in your lap. Hesitant and uncertain, you look down and start focusing on the floor.

“I don’t know what will happen to your mother,” Yosuke changes the subject rather quickly as his eyes open again, almost making you feel like he knows you were lying while refusing to acknowledge it. “But until she calms down, I won’t let you see her again. And if she tries anything like this again, tell me.”

“But you’re still going to let her see me after?” You look up at him, pouting slightly at the suggestion. Yosuke nods.

“She’s an insistent woman,” he tells you. “But for as angry as I am with her for breaking the rules and acting out on her own, I know she’s capable of treating you well. But until she stops being so frenzied and fawning over you incessantly, I won’t let her near you. I don’t particularly like that she hurt you, but I know her. She wouldn’t actively try to hurt you the way other doctors might. She likes you too much.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you frown. “Why are you defending her? You cut Milos off pretty quickly when he hurt me. How is this different?”

“It just is,” Yosuke puts his foot down. However, you continue to peck at him.

“Do you…love her or something?” You give your doctor a somewhat discomforted look as you suggest this, though you’re not sure whether it’s because the idea of them in arms disgusts you, or because it makes you just slightly jealous. However, Yosuke sighs at your persistent questioning.

“I owe her,” he explains. “And she mistakes my courtesy for pushoverness. She forgets I won’t let her take advantage of me so easily despite how lenient I have been. I let her make unexpected calls, I let her talk to you openly and often, I let her touch you and tease you as she likes. For some reason, that wasn’t enough for her.”

“What do you mean you owe her?”

Yosuke shakes his head.

“That’s not for you to know,” he says firmly.

You pout. “Then why did you tell me to begin with?”

Your doctor smirks, unfolding his arms. However, he says nothing, remaining tight-lipped. You grow somewhat frustrated by his empty bait, but decide to try appeasing him to get what you want, despite feeling a bit dirty having to act this way to get your answer. You reach over to grab his hand and hold it, looking up at your doctor with innocent eyes.

“Please, I want to know,” you beg him sweetly. Your doctor merely laughs at you and drops your hand.

“Don’t play that game with me, dear,” he rebukes your attempt at getting your way. “I know it full well. You seem to forget just who you’re dealing with.”

He puts his hand on your cheek, slowly and gently gliding it down to your neck, then your chest.

“Of course, if you’re prepared to commit to the game fully...” He teases you, making you look away with a red face. As your doctor chuckles amusedly and removes his hand, you return yours back to your lap and pout again. Despite his jest, Yosuke shakes his head.

“It’s not something I’m not allowed to say,” he admits. “I only worry that you might not like what you hear, Ten. Curiosity can be dangerous. I figured you’d have understood this by now given your situation here at the facility.”

He sighs.

“But if you want to act like a big girl and promise you can accept what I say without getting upset, then I might tell you.”

“I…” You hesitate, looking back up at him. Is he going to tell you he did care for her after all? You find his words strange. However, you try to assure him, “I can handle it. So tell me.”

Yosuke again folds his arms and stares at you a moment, once again assessing your profile and expression. The gap in conversation makes you slightly uncomfortable, but you’re relieved when Yosuke finally starts to speak again.

“Ten, we all have lived our own lives before coming here,” he tells you firmly. “Your mother and I are colleagues now, but we were before as well. We knew each other aboveground before we worked together here.”

“I don’t understand how that correlates to you owing her,” you respond, mindlessly rubbing your bandaged wrists.

“If not for her, you and I wouldn’t be here together,” Your doctor continues to explain, smiling at you slightly. This statement takes you aback, and you open your mouth slightly with surprise.

“What do you mean…?”

“My dear, all I did before I came here was work,” Yosuke tells you, beginning to elaborate on his statements. “I never even knew this operation was happening just below me, and I wasn’t exactly aware of what we were really doing aboveground until I came here. Everything was vague, but I was naïve that way and focused only on what was presented to me. Back then, all I did was focus on my job, but I started to feel as though everything I did was cyclic and insignificant. I was exhausted. I hadn’t known your mother too well at first since we worked in different parts of the facility, but she and I started working closely together on a project at some point, and it was then that I ended up getting closer to her.”

He gives a long, tired sigh in recalling the experience.

“I don’t love your mother. I never did. I was just searching for something to distract me, as I had when I was hopping between Numbers here. I picked the worst possible person to do that with because, foolishly, I hoped it would bring excitement into my life. Your mother seemed like the type who would give that to a person, and I was horribly correct. I know how obsessive that woman is because I faced her behavior firsthand. She fawned over me endlessly and went out of her way to make me miserable even after our time working together had ended. I didn’t know how to handle her back then like I do now.

“Despite the rocky start and my obvious disinterest in her, your mother vouched for me with our boss because she thought me being here would keep me close to her. She lessened her obsession with time when she realized this wasn’t the case, but it pokes through now and again. Evidently this was one of those times where it did.

“I’m not sure how long she’s been a part of this whole operation, but she’s been here since before I came, and it was because of her that I was even able to get in. I had only met my boss a few times before as an entirely different man than he really is down here, but he seemed to trust me enough to accept me. At least, I know for a fact he thought I was a good worker. He figured I’d be loyal, and so far, I have been. Save for a few minor mistakes, I try to do what I’m supposed to. Others don’t. But most of those who don’t are those who know how to get away with what they want and abuse their privileges.”

“I…” Your eyes are wide after hearing your doctor’s words, but you’re not sure how to really respond to him now with so much information being fed to you at once. Hearing the confirmation that he and Mom had a sexual relationship almost makes you angry, but you still feel mostly surprised that your doctor would even go for someone like her. He seemed as though he disliked most of the crazier doctors here.

“You…really knew her?” you finally manage to utter some string of words. Though you’re sure that’s not the right question to be asking, you’re not sure what is. You’re really too frazzled to focus on the right questions.

“Yes,” Yosuke answers you plainly. “Does that bother you, darling? You look upset. I did give you fair warning, you know.”

“No,” you somewhat lie, pouting. “You’re both crazy, of course you’d be fit for each other.”

“Ten, we’re not a couple,” Yosuke reminds you, frowning. “We’re associates. Colleagues. Nothing more. Besides, you had no qualms about knowing I was physically intimate with your friends. Why is she suddenly so different?”

“Don’t remind me,” you grimace, avoiding his question. You really don’t want to have to think of your doctor hurting the other Numbers. Instead of lingering on this, you try to change the subject, not wanting to be teased or condescended further. “So you know her name?”

“I do,” your doctor confirms with a nod. “But you don’t need to know it. In fact, knowing it might get you in trouble with her. Her surname is enough. I had only used it because I needed her to stop what she was doing.”

“Why does it affect her so much?” You question. “I know she’s so insistent on being ‘Mom’, but she seems disgusted by her name. It’s weird.”

“Your mother stopped using her real name a long time ago,” Yosuke explains. “She used to use it aboveground to keep up appearances, but she started to get very hooked on being here, playing what I can only describe as her dream role. I don’t know when she stopped being Doctor Weiss and started being Mom. She’d always wanted us to call her some variant of the title while down here, but after a while, she started being very persistent about it. Aggressively so. Those of us who know her real name don’t even use it anymore. The lines between her former self and her new self are now completely blurred and have been for a while. Your mother was always a little crazy before, but she’s really not who she used to be otherwise. I’ve been around her as she is now for so long, even I really don’t remember her old self too well. But of course, it’s not important anymore. Lingering isn’t exactly something we can afford to do here. We move forward, not backwards.”

Yosuke shakes his head.

“Anyway, I won’t tell you much more about it. I’d rather not have you knowing about what goes on up there if it can possibly get me in trouble, and even this is probably something I shouldn’t have been discussing extensively with you. I should have kept it brief. But your mother and I did have a history. As I said, if not for her, you and I never would have met. I struggled for a while to find a place for myself in the facility, but after so long of trying and failing, I finally got exactly what I wanted.”

As your doctor looks on at you with a sly smile, you wince at his words, though you don’t really discuss them otherwise. You realize now why Mom reacted to Yosuke the way she did, though you’d assumed it was merely out of anger for being called by her surname. Despite being so shaken by all this news, you start to question the validity of this story. You know how your doctor is, how most of the doctors are. They’re sneaky, and you don’t question for one moment that Yosuke is either.

“How do I know what you’re saying is true?” You ask him intently, looking on at him with your brows lowered. Yosuke smiles at you, unfolding his arms. He reaches over to pet your head, running his hand along your scalp then down to your cheek to cup it gently.

“I can’t answer that for you,” he bluntly responds. “Darling, whether you trust me is up to you. Just as I have to decide whether or not to trust you.”

Your heart jumps as he says this, but you try not to let him know you’re nervous about the possibility of him knowing what Mom did, or what you did with Cyrus. For as long as she can threaten your friend, you know you have to keep quiet.

Both of you remain silent for a while, but Yosuke continues to move his hand down your cheek and under your chin, placing his thumb against your lips gently.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He questions suddenly. You look at him with confusion, but he clarifies his meaning. “Since we’ve been in this room together, of course.”

You look away from him as you feel his warm thumb gliding along your lips, back and forth in a playful manner.

“Ten, do you remember the first time I touched you?” Yosuke asks you with a gentle smile. “It was here, wasn’t it?”

He laughs lightly.

“We’ve come so far since then, haven’t we?”

You realize what it is your doctor is trying to lead up to, so you reach your hand up and pull his away from your face, much to his surprise.

“Yosuke, I don’t want to do this right now,” you tell him with rising embarrassment. “I’ve just dealt with a lot from Mom. I’m not ready.”

Yosuke chuckles.

“My pet,” he croons. “I’d already planned to use you tonight as well. I hadn’t expected to have to rescue you from your mother, but the only change to my plan for you is the environment. We’re here, my dear. We might as well.”

He grabs your chin again, stepping closer to you as you grab his wrist in response. Despite trying to pull him away, you’re unable to catch him off guard again.

“Yosuke…” You look up at him woefully. “I…”

“The only way to put her out of your mind now,” your doctor speaks in a gentle voice as you trail off, “Is to let me play with your body until you can’t think straight enough to remember what happened at all. I want my touch to replace hers. You’re not her Number, you’re mine.”

He leans in and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll make all your troubles melt away for just a moment,” he promises with a low voice, practically whispering into your ear. “But I’m not letting you get away until I have my fun, darling.”

He smirks lightly as your face grows red at his teasing, your legs shutting tightly as you feel yourself becoming aroused just by this, much to your embarrassment. Yosuke moves his head back and directly before your face, his olive eyes gazing deeply into yours from behind the frame of his glasses.

“Now lay back on the bed, my pet,” he commands, sliding his coat slowly off of your shoulders and down your arms to fully remove it, his voice still teasing and sweet despite his order. Once the coat has been removed and your body exposed, Yosuke runs the back of his hand along your cheek, chuckling.

“I’ll make you feel all better.”

You blush more, but decide to listen to your doctor and try to convince yourself that a distraction from earlier might be good for you. Trembling slightly, you move your legs up onto the bed and shift your body back, laying down against it and looking up at the brightly lit ceiling above you. As you await Yosuke’s move, you hear him shuffling about behind you for something in the cabinets and drawers. A few metallic clinking noises and the smooth gliding sounds of drawers reverberates through the silent room, and you hold your arms as you lay on your bed in wait for whatever it is Yosuke intends to do with you.

“My dear,” he suddenly speaks up from the head of your bed. “Lift your arms for me.”

You tilt your head back and see your doctor holding a pair of metal cuffs. The sight of it makes you gasp slightly.

“It won’t hurt your wrists if you don’t move around too much,” Yosuke assures you with a smile. Hesitantly, you lift your arms for him and let the man cuff each wrist to the bars on your bed, the metal things making a loud CLICK as he pops them closed. Once you’re restrained, Yosuke lets your wrists go and moves to the foot of your bed. Rather than use any kind of external restraints on your ankles, he grabs one of the bed straps and smiles at you darlingly.

“Spread your legs, dear,” he orders you gently, gliding a hand sweetly along your left calf. You press your knees together at first, embarrassed about having to expose yourself to him. However, you hesitantly do as told, allowing your doctor to strap your ankles in and keep you open. As Yosuke looks on at your exposed pussy, he chuckles.

“My pet, you’re already soaked,” he teases you, gliding a hand along your thigh now. “I haven’t even touched you all that much. Do you crave me so desperately?”

“It’s from earlier,” you lie, looking away. “Don’t think so much of it.”

“I know that’s not true,” Yosuke chuckles again, sliding his fingers upward along your slit, flicking your clit when he reaches it. He doesn’t linger there for long, but the sensation does make you wince as it gives you a tinge of pleasure. “I know very much about your body, my pet. Enough to know when it wants me.”

With your body fully restrained, Yosuke moves toward your head and stops when he reaches the side of the bed. He then rolls up his blue sleeves and leans over you, running his fingers along your sides delicately and watching you with a sly smile as you wriggle around at his touch.

“You’re sensitive right now, my pet,” he points out with amusement. “I’m glad. It’ll make my touch even more pleasurable for you.”

“S-stop,” you moan as he continues to rub your body. You’re not sure why you’re reacting like this to him all of a sudden, but you don’t want to give your doctor the satisfaction of knowing his touch feels good. Yosuke says nothing, but gives a light moan as he leans in to kiss your cheek, continuing to grope and tease every inch of your skin. He moves his hands to your shoulders, then continues to trail them along your breasts and stomach, going slowly so that you’re forced to savor every bit of his caresses.

As he continues to go back and forth along your body, Yosuke moves his mouth over your ear, giving the outer folds a light lick before moving his tongue inside of it and flicking it around. The wet sounds and heavy breaths reverberating deep into your ear makes you whimper and recoil, your hands balling up and your legs wriggling around in response.

Yosuke moans gently into your ear with each lick of it, occasionally moving away from the area to kiss your cheek and neck. You turn your head away instinctively, but this only makes it easier for him to tease you. After a while, Yosuke moves his hands toward your breasts and gently massages them with his warm touch, going slowly as he continues to lick and suck your ear. He soon starts rubbing your nipples slowly with his thumbs, and you give another light whimper as you feel his hands against you in such a sensitive area. Yosuke chuckles softly at your reaction.

“Does it feel good, my darling?” He breathes into your ear, giving your cheek another sweet kiss. “Look at me, won’t you?”

You turn your head back toward Yosuke hesitantly, your eyes glazed over already as warmth spreads throughout your body. Without giving you a chance to say anything, Yosuke moves his mouth over yours, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you sweetly as he continues to massage your breasts and nipples gently. You shut your eyes as he takes you, moaning into his mouth as he continues to touch you. You shake your wrists around just slightly as your body instinctively tries to wriggle away. Despite the cotton padding on your cuts, the pain the pressure of the cuffs brings your freshly injured wrists makes you wince slightly. You try to keep your arms still, but Yosuke’s tormenting touch of you makes it difficult to do so.

After what feels like forever of enduring this torment, Yosuke finally pulls away from your body, looking on at you as you pant heavily, your face utterly red and hot. Your doctor smiles coyly, pleased at your reaction to him. Rather than move atop you, however, he stands back up and moves again to the counter behind it, reaching for something he’s pulled out. You don’t see what it is right away, but when Yosuke brings it closer, the object looks like some kind of white microphone. You recognize it quite quickly, recalling that Mom had used it on you once before. You blush as you catch sight of the thing, clenching your hands again.

“I’m assuming you know what this is?” Yosuke chuckles in amusement at your reaction. “Then you’ll know it’ll make you feel good, my dear.”

“You want me to forget about Mom and you’re using the same thing she did,” you point out in frustration. Yosuke merely laughs.

“Then remember how I use it instead,” he tells you, turning the thing on and letting vibrating noises echo throughout the room. “Relax, my pet. It’s a treat for you after what just happened. Consider it medicine.”

You recoil slightly at hearing the noises, but Yosuke continues to smile at you. He brings the tip of the vibrator to your neck and laughs softly as he watches you raise your shoulder instinctively.

“Stop teasing me like this and just put it where you’re going to!” You wince. “I just want to get out of here!”

“In time,” Yosuke assures you, rubbing the vibrator’s head delicately along your body, the buzzing against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t sound so eager, dear.”

“I’m not!” You grunt, feeling your pleasure rise the closer Yosuke brings the vibrator to your crotch. Just before he reaches it, he retracts the device and instead runs it along your breasts, chuckling.

“Not quite yet,” he teases, watching as you gasp and pant at the sensation coursing through your body. “My pet.”

He runs the tip of the vibrator along your nipples, making you throw your head back and groan at the strange feeling. You’ve never felt anything but fingers there, but this feels far more intense to you than just a human touch. Yosuke continues teasing your nipples with the device, gliding it along your skin as he moves between each one. After tormenting your chest long enough, he moves the toy back down your stomach slowly, trailing it delicately until he reaches your pelvis. He picks up the tip from your body for a moment, letting you recover from the teasing for a small while before he places the tip against your inner thighs, running it along each one while chuckling at your gasps.

“Do you want it on your clit, dear?” he continues to peck at you, grinning slyly. “You’re squirming so darlingly.”

You’re unable to give your doctor a proper response, gritting your teeth to control your voice and not let him know that the vibrator feels good against your body, even though it hasn’t even touched your clit yet. However, you can feel the vibrations on your thighs even in your vulva, and your lower body begins to shiver as you feel your pleasure rising.

“Very well,” Yosuke chuckles, leaning into your ear. “Here.”

He moves the vibrator’s tip onto your clit, pressing it there and forcing you to feel the vibrations more strongly now. You whimper loudly as you feel the thing stimulating your body, and your toes curl while you can do no more than take it.

“S-stop!” You plead, your chest heaving as you suck in heavy breaths. “Stop it!”

Yosuke gives a throated laugh as he sees you trying to squirm around and away from the thing, but he keeps it in place firmly. He then moves into your mouth again, pressing his lips against yours and tonguing you sweetly as you endure the torment of the vibrations against your clit. You whimper and moan muffledly into Yosuke’s mouth, but he refuses to let you go, working your lips adoringly while giving a few loving moans of his own into you.

Eventually, Yosuke pulls away and watches your face intently as you start to climax, unable to resist the vibrating thing between your legs any longer. You instinctively grind your body against the vibrator, gasping and groaning as you begin to squirt out. Yosuke chuckles again as he watches you, and he begins to pet your head lovingly while you come.

“Enjoy it, my darling,” he purrs while you begin to yelp. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I-I can’t take it!” You gasp. “Please”!

As you move your body against the thing in his hands, you hear the metal cuffs on your wrists smoothly gliding and clinking against the bars on the bed. Your orgasm almost doesn’t seem to end with how much you’re pressing yourself against the vibrator, succumbing to it and your doctor as he gently pets you. In moments, your cries soon turn into low whimpers, and you lean your head back with glossy eyes and an open mouth as you pant, trying to recover. Yosuke finally retracts the vibrator from your clit and turns it off, letting the sound of your breaths fill the room. He continues to pet you sweetly while gazing eagerly at your glazed-over expression, but you’re so frazzled by your vibrating orgasm that you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Yosuke chuckles again at you, moving the back of his hand along your cheek now as you continue to lay there in recovery.

“You’re simply darling when you can’t fight anymore,” he teases you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss. “But we’re not done yet, my pet. So please hold on just a little longer.”

He places the vibrating wand by your side somewhere and moves again to the counter behind you, grabbing something else this time. When he moves back to you, he puts down a small bottle of lube on the bed beside you, then picks the vibrator back up. In his hands, you notice a small black rope which your doctor unfurls slowly. He grins slyly at your worried expression, but says nothing as he places the vibrator against your thigh, placing the head of it against your clit again and moving in to tie the thing to you with the rope. You try to squirm around to stop him, but he keeps your leg firmly in place with one hand as he finishes tying the toy to you.

Finished with his task, Yosuke unbuckles his belt, tossing it aside before promptly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He kicks off his shoes, but doesn’t completely undress otherwise the way he usually does, instead climbing atop you now. Rather than straddle your legs, Yosuke moves to straddle your chest. You watch helplessly as he kneels atop you and pulls his pants down enough to expose his risen cock. Once he’s ready, he sits on atop you carefully so as not to knock the breath out of you. He then brings a hand back to the device against your thigh and stares at you with an expectant, sly expression. You look away from him as you know what’s coming, but are unable to do much as your doctor turns the vibrator back on and lets it torment you more. You throw your head back and gasp at the familiar sensation, gritting your teeth as you groan in pleasure.

Yosuke merely laughs at you in amusement, but says nothing as he picks the bottle of lube up and pours some of it onto your breasts. The sensation of the slick substance warms your skin, much to your surprise. It feels pleasurable, but still strange since you’re not very accustomed to it.

“W-what is that?” your voice shakes as you try to compose yourself enough to speak.

“Just a warming lubricant, my pet,” Yosuke assures you, petting your head. “Relax.”

Without another word, your doctor takes his hands and presses your breasts together, forcing cleavage to form between them. You grunt as you watch him press his cock into them, the sensation making you feel dirty. You aren’t able to think on it much, however, with the vibrator still tormenting your clit while you’re helpless to its sensation. As Yosuke keeps your breasts pressed together with his palms and fingers, he massages your nipples yet again with his thumbs, grinning as he hovers atop you and thrusts himself into your cleavage.

“This feels lovely,” he breathes, almost laughing. “My darling, your breasts are so soft.”

“B-be quiet!” you gasp, but whimper both at the pleasure from the vibrator and at the embarrassment of your doctor’s tip thrusting closer to your face. You turn your head away as you try to avoid having to face it.

“Feel free to lick it, my dear,” Yosuke teases as he thrusts more against you, a loud, wet noise emanating from his crotch slapping against your lubed-up skin. You blush and continue to endure pleasure from various parts of your body. You already can’t take the feeling of the vibrating wand against your clit, but Yosuke’s massaging of your nipples and the warmth of his thrusts against your tits only makes your pleasure stronger. As you begin to cry more loudly, groaning and gasping more as your body wells with lust, your doctor begins to pick up his pace, grunting with pleasure of his own as he yearns to spurt his cum all over you.

“Just a bit more,” he pants, bucking against you more eagerly now. “Pick your head up dear. Open your mouth.”

You hesitate, in fact you struggle to really do as he tells you with how weak all this stimulation is making you feel, but you muster enough strength to pick your head up. You open your mouth as in structed and allow your doctor’s lubed up cock to press against your tongue with each thrust into your tits that he gives. Yosuke begins to grunt and groan, firming his grip on your breasts as his pleasure reaches its peak. In moments, he spurts his cum into your open mouth, letting his semen spill out against your tongue and lips while you moan uncontrollably at the vibrations between your legs. Yosuke gives one final thrust, spurting just a little more of his cum into your mouth before he leans over you and pants heavily, dropping his hands from your chest and planting them on either side of your head. He stares eagerly at you as he recovers, watching you with a grin while his cum drips down your lips and onto your chin. In your gasping, you were unable to really swallow it, so most of his semen is still trickling down your tongue and inner cheeks.

“You look so good with my cum in your mouth, my pet,” Yosuke coos, wiping his lube-covered hands on the bed then bringing one to your cheek to cup it gently. “Come when you’re ready, but swallow my seed when you’ve finished.”

He trails his finger up your chin to collect the residue of his ejaculate on his finger, pressing it then into your tongue to wipe it there before clamping his hand entirely over your mouth. You widen your eyes as you’re unable to keep gasping, so you breathe heavily and rapidly through your nose as you feel your body succumbing again to the vibrator’s torment. You whimper and moan loudly into Yosuke’s hand, throwing your head back against the bed and rolling your hips while you come. You try desperately to get away from your doctor’s grasp to breathe, but he refuses to let you go, watching intently with an endearing smile and a cock of his head, captivated by your pleasure. You ride out your climax until you are able to stop bucking against the vibrator, eventually doing as told and swallowing the creamy cum in your mouth. Once he sees that you’ve done this, Yosuke lets go of you and moves his hand back to turn off the toy. You’re left gasping and panting heavily as you come down from the torment, and your doctor finds this no less amusing now than he had before. He again pets your head and smiles intently at you.

“Did you enjoy it, my pet?” Yosuke coos, leaning closer to your ear. “Did it make you feel good?”

You’re unable to answer him yet, but aren’t able to fight back anymore with how much you’ve endured already. Yosuke pets your head for a little longer, but eventually moves himself back so that he’s kneeling between your legs. His cock is still dripping with lube and cum, and he chuckles devilishly as he touches your slit with his fingers.

“You’ve completely soaked the bed, my dear,” he teases you while observing the wet sheets. “How very cute.”

You blush and turn away, but say nothing in response. Yosuke then undoes the rope on your thigh and removes it entirely, along with the vibrator. Much to your relief, he gently drops the thing on the floor with the rope. However, you’re sure he’s going to keep toying with you regardless.

“Ten,” he calls out as if on cue. “Stay still. I’m going to enter you now.”

You remain unable to speak, but moan weakly as you feel Yosuke’s cock push its way through the folds of your labia and into your pussy. With how wet you are and despite his size, you are able to take your doctor fairly easy. The leftover lube from his previous act only makes his entry more pleasurable, as your body feels as though it’s beginning to warm up inside.

Yosuke gasps slightly as he feels your body instinctively wrapping around his cock, and he chuckles eagerly as he begins to thrust slowly into you, going in and out gently.

“My pet,” he coos, grunting between thrusts. “You feel wonderful, as always. And this warmth…”

He laughs softly, but ends up trailing off. Yosuke then leans forward against your body as he pumps his cock inside of you, taking a hand and petting your head as he gazes into your glazed-over eyes.

“You’re already at this point with just a few vibrations,” he laughs softly as he sees how unresponsive you are. Despite being unable to form words, you do whimper at your doctor’s warm pumps into your pussy, feeling pleasure in your body again despite not wanting to. Yosuke continues to buck his hips against you slowly for a while, but soon kisses your cheek and presses the side of his head against yours, his lips directly above your ear.

“Shall I go faster, my dear?” He breathes, the vibrations of his voice right up against your ear making you blush. “Deeper?”

You don’t answer him, but he speeds his pace up more regardless. Yosuke’s crotch starts slapping wetly against yours as he goes deeper inside of your body and thrusts into you with a quickened pace. Yosuke begins to grunt and pant more now, his mouth still by your ear and his breath blowing forcibly into it with each noise. You moan helplessly as your doctor continues fucking you, breathing heavily in rhythm to Yosuke’s deep pumps. He kisses and licks your ears again as he pounds into you, making your body shiver yet again. More whimpers escape your lips the longer you’re fucked, much to your doctor’s pleasure. He chuckles slightly and moves his free hand from your hair to your upper arm, caressing your body from there all the way down to your hip and back up again as he keeps up his thrusts.

“Say my name again, darling,” he pants into your ear. “Like before. I want to hear your sweet voice while I fill you with my cum.”

You hesitate, your head dizzy and your face red. Yosuke pulls back slightly and stares into your eyes as he continues to pump into your pussy, his gasps and grunts getting rougher as he reaches his climax. Without having to be asked again, you look up at your doctor and prepare to do as told, feeling your own body letting go as you begin to climax with him.

“Yosuke!” you cry desperately, throwing your head back further and shivering endlessly in desire. Both you and your doctor climax together, with Yosuke giving a loud, pleasured grunt before he slows his wild thrusts. You feel his cum pumping into your pussy, and you can do nothing to stop it from filling you. As Yosuke continues to come, he leans again into your lips and gives you a quick, wet kiss, panting as he thrusts a few more times to make sure every bit of his semen stays inside of you. After a few blissful moments, the both of you finish up, and Yosuke hangs his head and exhales with a groan.

“Perfect,” he says, starting to pant now. “You’re perfect, my pet…”

He picks his head up and pulls himself slowly out of you, then reaches back to your ankles to undo your straps. Once he’s done this, Yosuke moves forward atop you and opens the cuffs around your wrists, freeing them. Slowly, you drop your arms back to your chest, holding one of your wrists with one hand while lying there groggily. Once you’ve been fully unbound, Yosuke lays beside you on the bed and turns your body toward him. He starts pulling you closer with one arm wrapping around you on your back, while the other moves down to your leg. Your arms are again pressed against his chest, and your eyes widen just slightly as you feel your doctor lift your leg up and position it over his hip. You realize that he’s not done yet, but you clench your fists, balling the fabric of his shirt in your hands while leaning into his chest.

“Stop…” You weakly beg him. “Please…”

Yosuke pulls his upper body away from you just barely, moving his arm up from your back and picking your head up by your hair enough to guide it upward, but not hurt you.

“Hush,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you again. He keeps your head in place, moving his hand down your scalp to the back of your head and holding you there. You whimper as you feel your doctor gently guide his hips against you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy again. However, in this position, it feels strangely good. You try to pull away despite this, but Yosuke keeps a firm grip on you as he begins to thrust again into you. With this position, he isn’t able to go incredibly fast, but the slow pace feels good nonetheless. Your doctor pumps steadily into you, breathing heavily and lustfully through his nose as he continues to kiss you.

You persist with moaning in protest, but soon find yourself enjoying the steady rhythm of Yosuke’s sweet, gentle thrusts, your pussy wetly gulping up his cock eagerly with each motion. Your protesting moans soon become pleasurable, and you clench your fists even more tightly against Yosuke’s shirt as he keeps up his rhythm, giving a few groans of his own as he continues to pump steadily and wetly into you. After a while of enduring this, your body soon reciprocates his thrusts, and you lean your head back against Yosuke’s hand helplessly as you do. Sensing your succumbing to him, Yosuke pulls away from your mouth and begins to kiss your neck, letting your sweet moans and whimpers fill the room while he works you.

The both of you continue to gently ride one another until you both reach your peak, with Yosuke coming first. He gives off a few groans as his cum pumps into you, his grip on your leg tightening as he spills his pleasure deep into you. In turn, you gasp eagerly as the last of your energy is spent on coming again, with you gasping and whimpering desperately as you push up against Yosuke’s warm cock until you finish up. Within moments of your climaxes ending, the both of you settle down once more.

Yosuke pants in deeply, but soon gives your cheek a loving kiss as he slowly pulls out of you and drops your leg. You feel cum dripping out of your creamy cunt now that your doctor has pulled away, but you’re too weary to do or say anything about it.

“You look about ready to pass out now, dear,” Yosuke chuckles lightly between breaths as he catches sight of your face, your eyes completely unfocused and your mouth agape. Without giving you a chance to respond, he turns you over on your back and gets off of the bed, going to the cabinets to towel himself off. He pulls his pants back up and closes them after doing so, then grabs his belt from the floor, wrapping it back around his waist and buckling it again. While you continue to breathe deeply, your doctor walks over to the bed and examines you.

“I’d cover you with my coat, but it’s currently a bit soaked,” he mentions, instead scooping you nakedly up in his arms as you feel too weak to protest. You don’t want to have to be whisked into the hall like this, but you’re in no position to say anything, nor do you even feel like you can think straight enough to care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The hall is fortunately empty as your doctor ushers you out and across it to the shower. You’re too weak from everything today to really stand, feeling as if your entire body is made of rubber, so Yosuke sits you on the shower floor as he cleans you off. The warmth of the water only adds to your exhaustion, making your muscles loosen up. Yosuke says nothing of interest as he cleans you, much to your surprise. You half expected him to tease you, but his jests seem to have stopped the moment you left your examination room.

Once you’re clean, Yosuke towels you off and gives you a clean gown, dressing you quietly while you’re seated on the bench by the entrance. After you’ve been completely taken care of, your doctor gently scoops you back in his arms and finally ferries you to your bedroom, laying you delicately along your rose bed as you sink comfortably into its cool sheets. Yosuke tucks you in with your comforter, then brushes the back of his hand along your cheek.

“Sweet dreams, my dearest,” he coos. You feel your eyelids drooping finally as your exhaustion takes hold, the comfort of the bed overtaking every sense and pulling you into a slumber. Again, Yosuke kisses you, this time sweetly on your lips.

“I love you,” he reminds you gently before pulling away. Your eyes finally close, only barely registering your doctor glancing at you with a smile from your bedroom door before your body completely shuts down, before your mind stops being able to process anything at all.

Chapter 37: Rest Eighteen - Consolidate

The first thing you really hear as you come back into consciousness is a soft, steady scribbling noise against a hard surface, and you know that someone’s in the room with you. When you open your eyes to see what’s going on, you notice that your doctor is sitting at your desk and scribbling something on a sheet with pen, though his back is turned toward you as he remains focused on his task. There’s a closed folder with several white sheets of paper peeking out from the bottom and side that’s resting on the metal surface somewhere to the left of him. You want to assume this is your file, but you’re not quite sure.

Groggily, you sit up, holding your head. As you slide your right hand along the sheets of the bed, you bump against a bottle of water somewhere beside you. Eagerly, you take the thing in your hands and unscrew the cap, gulping some of the stuff down without hesitation.

“Did you sleep well, my pet?” Yosuke calls out from the desk without stopping his speedy scribbling. You’ve never really seen him this focused on any kind of work before.

“I guess,” you mumble, screwing the cap back on the water bottle. “I’m still pretty tired.”

“Really? You slept the whole morning away,” Yosuke tells you, turning the sheet on the desk over to continue writing on the back. “You were supposed to have a visit, but I decided to cancel it so you could rest.”

He laughs.

“Did I really run you that ragged last night?”

You blush, tightening your grip on the water bottle, but say nothing in response to this statement. You don’t necessarily want to have to think about anything that happened yesterday after you stepped out into the hall, but your thoughts carelessly wander to these events anyway. You still feel frazzled thinking about Yosuke and Mom’s relationship together. Your doctor had promised he didn’t care about the woman, but you don’t know if that’s true. He never seemed to really think ill of Mom whenever he talked about her before, in fact he seemed to say she was just fine when she wasn’t in her bad moods. For some reason, you feel displeased knowing that they were ever together at all, provided your doctors words were true. You almost hope he was lying, but with how he interacted with her in the hall, you think he might have told you the truth. Something about how Mom reacted to him specifically was just so haunting and personal to you that you can’t safely say nothing’s happened between them.

You start to wonder what punishment will befall Mom this time for her disobedience. Since she disobeyed her superior so readily and so soon after the last time, you’re sure her punishment will be more severe. You’re not sure why it is the workers even carted her off on a bed when previously she was just summoned, or why they tried to restrain her when she likely would have gone with them willingly, if while throwing a tantrum. You’re sure this isn’t indicative of anything positive.

Strangely, the workers yesterday appeared fairly quickly, almost as if they were already waiting. Are there cameras in the halls after all? Yosuke had said there were none in the examination rooms, but with how ready the workers seemed to be to cart the woman off, you’re sure that someone had to be watching you. Were that the case, you’re almost offended they didn’t send the workers to stop the woman sooner. You’re grateful for Yosuke’s rescue of you—and only that, you tell yourself—but aren’t exactly thrilled for him to have taken advantage of you shortly after, even if it did feel good.

Suddenly, your doctor’s words from before start to resonate in your head.

You have to be honest with me so that I can protect you, he’d said. Despite the haunting implication of the first half of his words wherein you felt utter unease at the possibility of his knowing you lied about Mom’s first time acting out, it’s only the phrase protect you that begins to repeat itself over and over in your head, making you blush. You don’t like that the idea of having Yosuke take care of you makes you feel loved when you know for a fact that everything he does is because he’s obsessed with the idea of making you his. You don’t see how he’s any different than Mom, in fact. But the more you think about him, the more yesterday begins to frustrate you. Promptly, you shut your eyes and press a hand to your temples, trying to shake away the memories of prior events. You envision Eight telling you to be strong and fight against your feelings for your doctor, clinging to this and using it to distract you. Before you know it, you hear Yosuke’s voice call out again, this time from right beside you.

“Ten.”

You pick up your head toward Yosuke and open your eyes, almost jumping back with how close he is to you as he stands beside your bed. You’d been so focused on your own thoughts that you hadn’t even heard him get up.

“Are you alright?” Yosuke questions you softly, tilting his head. You notice he has a small bowl in his hands that had likely been sitting on the desk and hidden from view with his frame. You look up at the man and merely nod, making him smile.

“Here,” he offers you the bowl. In it, there’s a metal spoon sinking into some kind of creamy substance that looks like a kind of grainy pudding, but you’re not sure what exactly is in it.

“What is that?” You ask curiously, distracting yourself from your previous thoughts.

“Porridge,” Yosuke answers you simply. “It might not look like much, but it’s good the way they make it. I thought you might want something in your stomach before you head out to the hall.”

He picks up the spoon, scooping a bit of the porridge in it, then brings it toward your lips.

“Try some,” he urges gently, laughing slightly. “It won’t hurt you.”

You look away, but begrudgingly open your mouth and let Yosuke feed you, feeling unease as he slides the spoon slowly against your lips when he pulls it out. Surprisingly, the porridge is fairly sweet and creamy. It’s a bit sticky, but certainly as good as promised. And with how warm it is now, you’re assuming that your doctor brought it just before you woke up. Although the dish’s texture and sensation on your tongue is more suggestive than you’d like, you at least welcome the flavor.

“Go ahead and eat, my dear,” Yosuke urges you again, letting you take the bowl in your hands and dropping the spoon into it. “I have to finish up some work, but I’ll take you to the hall after.”

You look over at your desk curiously, but aren’t able to make out anything on the papers since it’s too far from your sight.

“Is…that my file?” You finally ask, and Yosuke nods in response.

“I had to make a few notes and alterations,” He tells you. “I was supposed to do it sooner, but like I said, you slept for quite a while. I figured I’d get it done while you were still in bed.”

He sees you still staring at the paper on your desk and pets your head.

“You can’t peek at it, my dear,” he teases. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You look down, blushing as you take a spoonful of porridge to your lips. You’re not in the mood for your doctor’s games or his touch after last night, but say nothing as he makes his way back to the desk. Able to focus on yourself again, you find enjoyment in your breakfast—or lunch, you suppose. It’s a small helping, but the graininess of the stuff fills you up just enough.

Yosuke finishes his writing just after you’ve cleaned the bowl. He opens your folder to place the written-on page face-down, indicating to you that it’s placement is toward the back. As you peek again at the now-open thing, you realize it has more than just a few papers. There’s instead a stack of pages just a little thicker than you realized, but you’re sure a lot of this is medical statistics as well as personal data. Regardless, you’re curious to know what’s on those pages, but aren’t sure you can get lucky with sneaking a peek the way Cyrus said he had.

Yosuke eventually rises and has you follow him outside your room, taking you again down the hallway while you ferry the empty bowl in your hands. You’re sure you didn’t need to bring it, but did so mindlessly since you’ve grown accustomed to returning dishes to the cafeteria counter. When you get to the hallway with all the recreational areas, your heart starts to beat faster. Being faced with the metal gate again only reminds you of everything that occurred behind it, and you hesitantly shift your gaze over to the records office door. In part, you don’t want to know if Mom is there, but you simultaneously can’t help yourself from trying to lean in subtly to see into the office more. You can make out nothing of interest beyond what you’ve seen before, nor are you able to hear any sounds from the office as you had previously.

As Yosuke makes his way toward the door, he drops the file on the lower door’s countertop, but doesn’t give his usual knocks. He almost does so instinctively, raising his hand just slightly to make his motion, but pauses for a second before promptly dropping it. You aren’t able to see his expression, so you have no idea what he might be thinking.

Despite not having to make any apparent noises, the gate eventually grinds open. This leaves you to wonder whether Mom’s even in the office at all, or if the gate is automated somehow. You don’t hear any noises coming from the office to confirm her presence, nor does your doctor seem to have any sort of indicative expression that might let you know what might have happened to her or how he’s feeling. He doesn’t even look all that concerned when you see him, rather focused. You’re sure you won’t get an answer about Mom anytime soon, however. With the possibility of cameras in the hall being very real to you now, you think it best not to ask questions right here anyway.

Yosuke gives your hair a bit of a tussle before leaving you to your day, but doesn’t really seem to say much. However, with him out of sight, you decide to go to the cafeteria to drop off the bowl in your hands. Much to your surprise, you see Lav standing by the counter and throwing back a glass of what you presume to be milk. You look on in awe as she drinks the entire thing in one gulp before putting the cup down to let the worker take it away. Despite feeling a bit awkward facing Lav again while knowing you have to talk to her about what’s been going on, you decide to try staying positive.

“You sure you don’t wanna take your time with that?” You joke, walking toward your friend. Lav looks up at you in surprise as she’s wiping her upper lip. However, she gives a light smile in response.

“I was pretty hungry,” she tells you. “But I didn’t want full on food, so I figured that was the next best thing. I actually just got here. What about you?”

“Same,” you answer honestly. “I guess I slept in today. Yesterday was pretty, um…busy.”

“I slept in too,” Lav laughs slightly. “Not because of what my doctor did, but mostly because he got pretty lazy. He didn’t schedule a visit this morning, so I just kept sleeping until he came to finally bring me over.”

“Well, the beds are pretty comfortable,” you joke, though you feel strange playing this off so casually. Truthfully, you feel bad that Lav has no idea what happened after she left, and you’re still mentally trying to recover from everything in general. But you aren’t sure it’s worth bothering her about now that she’s in a good mood.

“I was gonna head to the rec room for a bit to see who’s around,” Lav speaks up, shrugging a shoulder. “Wanna come with?”

“Sure.”

Both of you make your way out of the cafeteria after you leave your bowl behind, heading instead to the rec room. You subtly try to eye the ceiling in the hallway to see if there are any abnormal shapes or shadows behind any of the walls to indicate any sort of cameras, but you aren’t really able to see much of anything. You start to wonder whether the cameras, if present, are everywhere in the recreational areas, or just the hall. Am I just paranoid? You think to yourself. You don’t want to have to think about your privacy being invaded this way, but wouldn’t put it past these people to have some kind of surveillance system. You’d mulled it over once before.

You’re pulled away from these thoughts as both you and Lav enter the rec room, finding that most everyone is huddled by the rightmost couch in the room while Cyrus stands before it, speaking to the other Numbers diligently. The twins are sitting in front of the couch, with Three on her brother’s right side. You notice that Two’s arm and nose are still wrapped up, though there’s some writing scribbled on his white arm cast now that you can’t make out from where you are. Three also has a pen tucked into her hair and over her ear, so you assume that the group had been signing the cast before Cyrus started talking to them.

Meanwhile, the peach girlfriends and Blue are seated atop the couch, with Five and six sitting closely together while Blue is huddled on the right side of the plush thing, knees up and feet pressed into the cushions. Both Eight and Violet appear to be missing, though you’re not sure if they’re around elsewhere, or just completely busy right now.

“...What’s going on?” Lav questions Cyrus as the both of you walk in further to meet the group. The young man stops talking all of a sudden and turns his body halfway in surprise, but his eyes immediately lock onto you. He doesn’t seem to say anything, but with his expression, you’re absolutely sure he knows that something happened yesterday. Knowing that he likely heard your noises and Mom’s screams in the hall leaves you embarrassed beyond belief, but you’re certain he only wants to make sure you’re okay. Despite this silent acknowledgement, Cyrus turns his attention to Lav and answers her.

“We’re having a quick meeting about something,” he says. “You need to hear it too.”

“What’s up?” Lav looks at Cyrus almost worriedly, then shifts her gaze around the other Numbers’ faces. They all seem concerned to some degree. Five and Six seem more contemplative and focused if anything, but the twins look as though they’ve just seen a ghost. You know there’s more at stake for them with their involvement, but nobody else would really understand why they’re worried as much as they are. The only one who doesn’t seem to be utterly concerned is Blue, who is already aware of exactly what’s been going on. She glances over at you briefly, but rather than make a teasing expression at you, she just looks away.

“I’m warning everyone that we have to be more careful about who we’re seen with and when,” Cyrus explains. “I’m sure not all the doctors would pair us off for their own amusement, but mine did not too long ago. She caught me talking with someone a few times and acted out when she had an opportunity to do so.”

“What do you mean?” Lav crosses her arms. “Did she hurt you two?”

“No,” Cyrus shakes his head. “Not…physically anyway. She knocked us out and brought the both of us to my examination room. You can figure out the rest.”

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Lav scowls, catching his meaning rather immediately. “I doubt Ma’s the only one who would, either.”

“I don’t think we have to all avoid each other entirely,” Cyrus adds to his statements, addressing everyone in general now. “I think we just have to be careful about what we’re seen doing. We shouldn’t talk to each other in the hall, and we should avoid being physically intimate with one another if a doctor ever has to come into one of the rooms for any reason—no handholding or other physical closeness. We don’t want to give them a reason to do something like this again. I know Mom’s crazy, but we can’t really trust anyone in general, not even the nicer doctors. If she can do this, so could the others.”

“Peaches and I are already pretty careful,” Five speaks up from the couch. “But…this is still really bad. I don’t think her doctor would do something like that, but mine could, if he wanted to.”

“Mine too,” Lav lowers her eyes. “He saw Ten and I in the hall yesterday, but we didn’t really speak to one another. He did imply some sort of fetishistic investment in our being together though. We’ll try to be careful.”

“But what if it happens anyway?” Three’s voice shakes as she speaks up. You notice that she’s holding her brother’s free hand tightly. “What if we’re careful and they still….”

“Then we’ll just have to be there for one another,” Blue answers with a shrug as the shaky twin trails off. “Like we are already. There’s not much else we can do, right?”

“I guess not,” Six sighs. “Still, that was pretty fucking sick of Mama to do.”

“She got in trouble for it, if it makes you feel better,” you try desperately to assuage everyone, but realize that this statement makes you sound suspicious. You quickly recover, adding to your words. “I-I don’t know if you’ve seen her lately, but she had injuries on her face when I saw her. Maybe it’s because of what she did, and her boss didn’t like that she did it.”

Cyrus glances at you for a moment before lowering his eyes entirely.

“It doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it again,” he says bluntly. “I know her. I’ve never seen her do something like this, but she’s done weird stuff before.”

You shift your gaze away from him as well, remembering Mom’s words to you yesterday. You hope dearly that she doesn’t hurt Cyrus more by making him use you like she had. Certainly, she would if she could get away with it, but you’re also sure her boss is going to keep a closer eye on her after two repeat offenses. You at least hope he’s the kind of person who would put his foot down that way with someone like her. but if he is, you wonder why he didn’t do something more drastic the first time to assure Mom wouldn’t act out again.

“Have you…seen her?” You ask your friend quietly. Cyrus merely looks at you again, but shakes his head. You assume he’s been ferried over to the hall by someone else, but knowing that his doctor is absent worries you and simultaneously makes you wonder who the hell was in the office if not her.

“I think everything will be alright,” Two tries to remain optimistic, his voice shaking you from your thoughts. He tightly squeezes his sister’s hand, you notice. “If we’re careful enough, nobody will do anything. If they respect their boss even a little, I’m sure they’ll all see what she did as something really stupid and just kind of want to avoid doing the same.”

“Hopefully,” Blue exhales tiredly. “This is just another fun thing to add to the list of creepy shit the doctors do.”

“I’m sure we’ll be okay,” Five also tries to be optimistic, piggybacking off of Two’s statement. “And even if something happens, we should just be sure to stay open and comfort one another. None of you should keep it to yourselves and try to deal with it on your own. Don’t be afraid to speak up.”

Everyone silently seems to agree, but nothing more is really said on the subject while a tinge of unease settles into the room and among the crowd. You feel a bit awkward being suggested to stay open about this from Five, even if she wasn’t directly addressing you. You almost want to tell her “I know” in response since you’re already aware that you need to speak up more about what’s bothering you, but you instead remain silent. After a while of nothing else being said, it’s Cyrus who finally breaks the silence.

“I have a favor to ask too, if you guys don’t mind,” he looks up at everyone as they expectedly reciprocate his gaze. “Please don’t tell Violet about this. You know how she gets. It might make her upset to know that I was with someone.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Six tilts her head and lowers her brows. “Why would she get upset?”

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not,” Cyrus sighs. “She focuses on the most negative things when she gets riled up. She doesn’t think about her actions or her words. She isn’t rational. You know how it is. If she were to hear about this, she’d get really upset and start trying to hunt down whoever Mom paired me with, partly out of anger, partly out of curiosity despite being aware that knowing would affect her negatively. I don’t want to give her a reason to act out. I care about Violet. You all know that I do. It just is what it is.”

“But she has to know about this eventually, right?” Lav raises a brow. Cyrus merely nods, but doesn’t respond otherwise. He instead looks on at everyone hopefully. Blue doesn’t say anything, but repeats her zipping motion from her previous conversation with you to indicate she’ll stay quiet. Both twins also give slight nods to show they’ll do as asked, and Six merely shrugs.

“We’ll keep it to ourselves then,” Five agrees. “But…promise you’ll be careful with her, okay? You said we just need to avoid being seen so much together, so you should keep her out of sight too.”

“I will,” Cyrus promises, smiling slightly. “Thank you.”

He then turns his head toward Lav.

“Nine?”

The young woman scratches the back of her head and looks down, but doesn’t say no.

“I’ll do it,” She tells him. “I respect you. Plus, I guess starting drama would be pretty shitty to do. I don’t like her when she’s upset any more than anyone else does.”

She looks up at Cyrus again.

“And what about Eight?”

“He didn’t really show up to the rec room,” Five answers for Cyrus. “But he is here.”

“I don’t think he’d really care,” Blue blows some hair out of her face. “Besides, he doesn’t really interact with anyone anyway. I doubt he’s an issue.”

“I think he should still hear it,” you suggest, holding one arm. “You guys should mention it if you see him at all.”

“Well…other than all that, we’re done here,” Cyrus speaks up. “I’m sorry if I butted in or anything. I just figured I’d take the advantage since you were all here. I wasn’t really feeling up to saying anything yet since I’m still recovering from my shot, but I’m feeling a little clearer in the head more than I have been and I think it’s better that I do this now than later.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Five responds, biting her lip. “Six and I were worried about this happening. I guess this just confirms what we feared.”

She sighs and rises, with Six following.

“But I think she and I are going to go hit the pool for a while to clear our heads. Anyone want to come with?”

“Sure, I’ll bite,” Blue shrugs, rising. However, she scrunches her face up for a moment. “Seven’s not here today, is she?”

“No,” Cyrus shakes his head. “I’ll probably go see her if she shows up though.”

The peach girlfriends and Blue all give their quick goodbyes and move out of the rec room, leaving just the five of you. Nobody really seems to know what to say afterward, so to distract from the unpleasantness of the conversation, you move toward the worried twins and smile.

“Hey Two, what’s on your cast?” You ask, kneeling before the two twins. The boy looks up at you and smiles, shaking away his uneasy demeanor.

“Oh, they’re these little notes. Everyone was signing it earlier,” he explains with a light laugh. “Just for fun. It’s something people do when they break their arm, just have their friends sign their cast. I saw it in a movie, anyway.”

“Um…do you want to write something?” Three speaks up, catching onto your attempts to make the situation better and trying to play along herself despite being so shaken up by the conversation just earlier. She doesn’t say anything of it, but you can tell by the way she looks at you that she’s grateful for your assistance. You give Three a nod, taking the pen from her when she plucks it from her hair and hands it to you. On Two’s cast, you write

Feel better soon! ♡

You notice a few strange, but somewhat endearing notes from the others, such as “Make a speedy recovery!”, “Don’t be so clumsy next time!”, and “I hope you feel better~”. There’s even some small cartoony drawing of Two in a cast, which you presume is Blue’s handiwork. Seeing these notes makes you laugh to yourself. When you finish yours, you turn to Lav and Cyrus and offer them the pen. Both your friends still seem concerned about everything that’s just occurred, but try to play along as well and agree to sign Two’s cast. The pair end up sitting on the couch so they can reach Two’s arm easier and not have to make him get up to meet them.

Lav writes “You’ll be ready to slay dragons in no time!”, while Cyrus jots down “I thought the saying was ‘break a leg’, not ‘break an arm’”. Both of them laugh at each other’s notes, and seeing them smile together almost makes you happy. However, you continue to reel slightly from previous events and because of the pressure to avoid conflict between the two of them. You need to talk to Lav, but you can’t do it in front of Cyrus. Despite this intruding thought, you can see that both Twins seem amused and grateful for their friends’ silly words. After Two’s cast has been signed by everyone, Three moves to stand.

“Thanks, guys,” she smiles, helping her brother up by taking his free hand and letting him use his legs to elevate himself. “Me and my brother are gonna go do some drawing or something. I went to the crafts room earlier for the pen, so I’ve been itching to since then.”

You, Lav, and Cyrus see the pair off, watching as they exit the rec room. You almost wonder whether the twins are going off to fool around, but you don’t really want to have to think about it too much. You’re sure Two can’t do anything excessive with his cast anyway. At least, you hope this is the case and that the doctors aren’t forcing him to perform either. Jonathan seems nice enough not to overwork him, but you really have no idea what he’s like outside of his roles, beyond the few glimpses you’ve seen of him after each visit.

Once the room has been cleared, you’re left standing before Cyrus and Lav, continuing to feel an unease in your stomach and chest. You’re sure Cyrus wants to ask you about what happened yesterday, but you don’t really want to have to talk about it with Lav around and have her start worrying about you too when there’s already things you’re going to have to make her worry about. You still feel the need to be honest about being with another Number and not utterly disliking it, and about the uncertainty of your feelings toward one another. Not only would discussing the former issue make it clear that you were with Cyrus, but discussing the latter issue along with it might hurt her feelings. You don’t want Lav to think you’re dumping her for Cyrus—you care about both of them equally but you’re not even focused on relationships with how much you’ve been dealing with as of late. Thinking on it now, though, Lav has seemed so happy lately after finally starting to interact with the other Numbers. You don’t really want to have to ruin that for her by initiating such a stressful conversation despite knowing you need to.

“Ma’s a real prick, huh?” Lav mutters, folding her arms and sinking into the back of the couch. “I can totally believe she’d do something like that, but I still feel my sick to my stomach knowing that she actually did.”

“You have no idea,” Cyrus sighs slowly, half-groaning while rubbing his temples. “She’s a pain, but she’s my doctor. I really don’t have much a choice but to listen to what she says and avoid trouble. We’ve been together for so long that I know how to deal with her, but she can be pretty unpredictable regardless. She’s a bit much for most everyone here.”

“Like Milos who only Five can handle readily, I guess,” Lav pouts. “They’re not the only doctors like that, either. Sven’s pretty shitty too. He’s not as crazy, but he’s certainly as perverted as they come.”

She looks up at you then, seeing the unease in your face. She falsely assumes it’s from her mention of Milos as she gives a quick “sorry” to you for mentioning him. When you don’t really respond, she cocks her head a bit and gazes at you with concern.

“Hey…you wanna sit down?”

“I’m alright,” you shake your head, instead folding your arms where you stand and simply observing your two friends. “I’m a little shaken up by all this, really.”

“I can’t blame you,” Lav sighs. “I’m worried about the others too. But at least now they know to be more careful.”

“Right…”

Cyrus sees the unease in your face as well, but doesn’t try to address it when he already has an idea of one reason why you’re struggling—out of the many he doesn’t, anyway. You’re certain he doesn’t want to stir up whatever you’re feeling even more by addressing it, which you silently thank him for. You don’t blame Lav in the least for being direct herself since she simply doesn’t know what’s going on.

Cyrus then leans forward on his knees, letting his hands hang just over them and pressing his fingertips together.

“I guess things have just been pretty stressful for everyone lately,” he says somewhat quietly. Lav looks at him with a raised brow.

“Are you at least doing okay after the fact?” She asks him. He nods.

“It was difficult in the moment, but I’m okay now,” he tells her. However, you’re not sure if his words are true. Even though he says he doesn’t remember much from that night, you’re certain he at least remembers enough to be affected by it. He’d also said he doesn’t tell everyone the whole truth about things if he wants to avoid hurting them. You’re sure that also means you.

“But to be fair, I don’t remember a lot of it anyway,” he continues telling Lav, almost as if reading your mind. “I guess you haven’t been around to see me. I mentioned I had my shot recently, so I’ve been kinda groggy. My memory on that night is pretty spotty, actually.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not for the other person,” Cyrus drops his eyes. “They remember everything.”

“I guess that’s a good point…” Lav looks up at the ceiling, thinking on this for a moment but simultaneously not sure how to respond otherwise. You start to feel discomforted entirely now, your thoughts continuing to buzz in your head with each awkward silence. You’re not sure why you feel so stressed suddenly. Your chest wells with pressure, and your palms begin to clam up the more your anxiety builds.

“I-I gotta go,” You stammer suddenly, turning around. “I’ll be back.”

“Huh? Where are you going?” Lav calls out with concern, picking her head up and staring at you intently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you sharply try to assure her. “I’ll just be a minute.”

You exit the rec room, then press your back against a wall nearby, looking straight up. Taking a moment, you draw in a deep breath, then exhale slowly to try calming yourself down. You’re not sure why you felt so uncomfortable being there with both Lav and Cyrus, but become frustrated now knowing that you left them hanging. All you had to do was pretend everything was okay and it would have been. If not that, then maybe you should have been honest with both of your friends about how you’ve been feeling lately and what you’ve been going through. You’re sure they would have been understanding, in fact they’ve shown constantly that they are. You feel like you’re doing all the wrong things despite being guided so much about how to handle your struggles. Cyrus had said yesterday that humans were imperfect and made mistakes. You hope that means it’s okay to fuck up and be completely clueless as often as you have been.

While recovering from your frustrations, you look around the doors of the hall and spot the music room, figuring that Eight must be there if not in the library. You aren’t really sure you should bother him, but do think you ought to warn him about the issue everyone met over sometime soon, if not today. Despite wanting to talk to him again to see how he’s doing and to use his advice to keep your emotions in line, you instead wander off mindlessly to the gym. When the doors open, you’re greeted again with the familiar shiny wooden floor. You realize it’s been a while since you really came here. In fact, you had only ever really come here to play basketball with Lav the first time you met her. Thinking about it makes you want to laugh suddenly, but you only manage to give out a weak chuckle to nobody in particular. You decide then to sit on the floor and lean against the white padding lining the gym walls.

While you sit and try to come down from your earlier frustrations, you hold onto your upper arms again, looking up at the ceiling and trying to empty your mind. The white of the risen pane above you is strangely relaxing to stare at for a moment, though you find yourself becoming sick of constantly seeing nothing but white walls and white floors and white ceilings everywhere. You’re not sure how anyone can stand to look at them for so long without going utterly mad.

Suddenly, you hear the gym doors open, and you turn to face the source of the noise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, but Lav seems to have tailed after you, her frame now passing through the doors and making its way toward you. Your friend looks at you concerningly, but says nothing and instead takes a seat beside you, bringing a knee up and laying her arm on it.

“Cyrus said I should probably go check up on you,” she finally speaks, looking at the floor. “He seemed adamant that it be me for some reason. Maybe because of the whole being a girl thing, I don’t know. But he kind of stayed behind to meditate since I guess he started feeling kinda stressed out.”

She laughs, trying to lighten your mood.

“I didn’t even know he took that stuff seriously. I hadn’t really ever seen him do it. It’s pretty interesting though.”

You continue to say nothing, too mentally strained to respond. Your silence causes Lav to finally look at you.

“Ten…are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure her like before, but she doesn’t appear to buy it.

“Are you…avoiding me or something?” Lav raises a brow. “You can’t tell me you’re fine and then run off in the middle of a conversation. That just tells me you’re anything but. I told you in the showers the other day not to hold this stuff in. Hell, I even noticed that you initially avoided me in the cafeteria back when everyone was there. Obviously, something’s bothering you. So talk, young lady.”

“I’m afraid to,” you answer honestly, rubbing your arm sheepishly. “I’m worried you might get mad at me if I tell you what’s wrong.”

“Why?” Lav questions with genuine confusion. “You’re not going to insult me or something, are you?”

“No,” you weakly chuckle. “I…”

You throw your head back and exhale, deciding to try getting it over with.

“Please don’t tell Cyrus I told you this, okay?” You request of your friend, tightening your grip on your arm. “I don’t want him knowing I talked about it with you. But…I’m the one who was with him that day.”

“You?” Lav’s eyes widen slightly. “Holy shit…I’m so sorry.”

You look at Lav with confusion. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? You were forced to fuck your friend by a sex-obsessed psycho. That’s not exactly your fault.”

You drop your hand from your arm and start picking at your nails nervously, dropping your gaze and focusing it down where your hands are.

“He’s the one who was forced onto me,” you solemnly correct her, blushing at the memory of the encounter. “Mom made him use me. Cyrus was just avoiding being specific.”

“What…?” Lav looks on at you with nothing but raw concern. “Jesus, are you okay?”

“Like he said, it hurt in the moment,” you answer simply, still avoiding your friend’s gaze. “Neither of us liked being forced to, but he tried to be careful for me. Even if he was being told what to do, he still tried to be gentle. But Mom got interrupted because she wasn’t supposed to be doing anything with us together in the first place, so Cyrus and I had time to talk things over after. And even since, we’ve tried to talk it out. We’re okay now, but it was still an awful thing to have happened.”

“That’s a small positive in a sea of shit,” Lav frowns. “I’m glad he at least tried to take care of you. He’s not the kind of guy who wouldn’t. But…is that really all that’s been eating at you?”

“…No,” you sheepishly admit. “It’s not just that, Nine. I…I didn’t hate being with him. The same way I didn’t hate being with you. It’s been a long time since you and I were intimate, but I do remember it, you know. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve thought about you ever since Cyrus and I were forced together. I was worried about hurting you, and I worried about hurting his feelings too because you were my first and he wasn’t.

I didn’t tell him I was with you, but he knows he wasn’t my first Number. I told him what happened only because I felt like I had to. Being with you first helped me deal with the shock of being with a Number at all. Had I been with Cyrus first, I might have been affected so much worse than I was, especially because it wasn’t entirely consensual for either of us the way being with you was. I only told you I was with him outright because I knew you’d figure it out regardless of whether I would have said something first, or him.”

You raise both hands to your temples then, continuing to talk when you see Lav staying quiet for you and not responding.

“I’ve been running myself ragged trying to figure out when to talk to you and how to deal with this. I kept feeling like all you were gonna do was snap at me for fooling around or having genuine care for someone who wasn’t just you. You said that you liked me that day, you seemed like you really enjoyed being with me, and it’s because of how you acted toward me that I was scared I’d hurt you by being honest. I felt like I went behind your back even though I wasn’t sure how I felt about you beyond being okay with what happened. I worried that if you found out…I don’t know, you might stop talking to me or something.”

You groan in frustration, shutting your eyes and feeling more and more pressure building up in your chest and throat.

“I don’t know what else to say, I can’t rationalize this. I was just letting my mind run on and on while simultaneously juggling all this shit from my own doctor and from Violet and…”

When you open your eyes again, you’re surprised to feel drops falling from them, not even having realized you started crying. You lower your hands and watch as tears lightly splash onto your palms.

“F-fuck…” you blubber.

You suddenly feel Lav lean against you and wrap her arms around your body, hugging you tightly.

“Ten,” she almost laughs. “I do really like you, you know? I care about you and I enjoyed being with you. But I couldn’t be mad at you for feeling the way you do about anyone else, so don’t cry on my account.”

You pull away from her slightly, looking at her face through your tears. Lav’s expression seems softer than usual, her brows turned upward and her smile far gentler. She shakes her head as she places her hands on your shoulders with your body now slightly apart from hers.

“I’m really flattered that you thought so much of me,” she admits. “That you tried to be considerate of me. But it’s okay. If you really liked being with him. I won’t be mad. All I want from you is to be stronger, to be self-reliant. I want you to be able to say with confidence that you know what you want and go for it without feeling guilty. No matter if it’s an act, a thing, a person, or anything else. I feel how I feel, Ten. But I couldn’t hold a grudge against you for going for what you want, if only you actually want it. And if you’re not sure, don’t ever feel like you have to rush to make a decision. Feelings are weird, they take time to sort out. It’s easier for some than others.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize to her, feeling as though you have to despite not knowing why you’re really apologizing at all. However, Lav shakes her head.

“Ten, don’t apologize,” she tells you. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had to tiptoe around me so much. But you can be honest with me, really. I won’t go crazy if you decide you want to be around other people, as long as it’s your choice. I’ll still care about you and want to talk to you no matter what. I want you to be happy.”

“So I was just worried for no reason?” You look down, your lip quivering. “Am I just stupid?”

“Of course not,” Lav assures you. “We make mistakes, we feel things, we worry. It’s normal, Ten. But it’s important that you don’t hold it in like that, no matter how scared you are of the consequences of being honest. Lying, or holding back information, or whatever else you want to call it is only okay in specific contexts, but if it eats you inside to do so, maybe it’s better to be more forward and open. Just keep in mind that no matter what happens or how things go, you’re not stupid at all, Ten.”

You’re grateful for her assurance, but still don’t necessarily feel convinced. Your embarrassment rises at your foolishness. How could you have let yourself get so pent up? You just want everything to be okay. You don’t want to feel hurt like this, you don’t want to feel so naïve and pathetic.

You continue to dwell on these awful feelings until you look up at Lav again with still-wet eyes. Without really thinking, you lean in to kiss her, desperate for some sort of relief. Lav widens her eyes at the sudden act. At first, she seems to want to reciprocate your kiss and leans slightly into your lips, but she suddenly stops and pulls away, firmly grabbing your shoulders and gently pushing you back. You stare at her worriedly, your lips trembling.

“What’s wrong…?” You question her. “I thought…I thought you liked me.”

Lav shuts her eyes and furrows her brows, though they’re angled slightly in such a way that makes you realize she’s fighting with herself, not angry.

“Ten…,” she speaks lowly. “…I do care about you. I really do. But look at yourself.”

She opens her eyes again, her expression disheartened.

“You’re crying. You’re vulnerable. You didn’t kiss me because you wanted to. You kissed me because you’re desperate.”

Hearing this crushes you, but you say nothing and avoid Lav’s gaze, feeling foolish for having done something so reckless.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again, burying your head in your hands. “I’m fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Lav tries to reassure you once more, holding you close. “Ten, I would be fine with doing this stuff with you if only you weren’t vulnerable like this. I don’t want to do anything with you when you’re like this, and not at all because I dislike you. I’d feel like I’m taking advantage of you. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry…” you continue to apologize, shivering now. “I feel like I’m losing my mind here. Every day since I arrived, things have just been getting worse, even when they get better. Every day has brought some new frustration or pain, a new fear or problem. I don’t know how to make it better. I keep trying to. I keep trying to fix problems that aren’t mine while letting my own build up.”

You turn your hands away from you and clutch Lav’s gown.

“I feel so fucking helpless, Nine. My doctor’s confusing me, Violet’s frustrating me, and you and Cyrus…”

You trail off, unable to think of what more to say about them.

“Ten, don’t worry about me or him or anyone else,” Lav holds you closer. “Worry about yourself first. Your happiness and safety are important, as anyone else’s is. I said it already, but I’ll say it again: I want you to be happy. We all do.”

You say nothing in response, but bury your head into Lav’s chest.

“Can you at least hold me for a bit?” You ask quietly, your tears subsiding finally. “I think I need a touch that isn’t a doctor’s.”

“Sure,” your friend smiles. “I asked you last time, I can at least return the favor.”

Lav crosses her legs and lets you lean against her. Though you stay like this for a while, you eventually lay your head in her lap and let her pet you.

“Cyrus said we needed to be careful, but here we are,” Lav laughs slightly. “I guess it’s fine since we’re alone.”

“I really worry about the others,” you mumble in response, closing your eyes. “For Five and Six especially. They’re the only ones here that are actually a couple. I’m afraid of what might happen if the doctors decided to actively try to hurt them.”

“They’re sweet,” Lav smiles. “I’m worried too, but all thing’s considered, they’re pretty careful. They seem so chill and like they know how to handle things. I really respect that.”

You sort of chuckle in response, but don’t really say anything more about them. You continue to let Lav hold and pet you, feeling warm as she gently plays with your hair. You almost start to feel sleepy laying against her like this, but your mind wanders somewhat to yesterday, the thoughts intrusively bleeding into your peace.

“…Nine?”

“Yeah?”

You lower your brows.

“What keeps us here? At this facility?”

“What do you mean?” Lav suddenly stops petting your head and keeps her hand still on your scalp.

“I mean, what’s to stop us from trying to escape anyway…?” You ask more clearly. You avoid explicitly talking about what happened between you, Mom and Yosuke, but do start to clarify a few other things. “Mom tried to bait me into walking out of the gate yesterday when you left. She told me that she wasn’t even armed, that I could just try if I wanted to. But she also said I wouldn’t make it far.”

You await an answer, but Lav seems to not know what to say. You turn your head up toward her and notice that she’s narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her face, trying to think hard on how to answer you. She looks fairly confused, in fact.

“Nine?”

“…I’m not sure,” the girl finally answers, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know what keeps us here. Drug punishments, torture, or someone with guns, I’d wager. But it’s better not to risk trying to run away. You know how the doctors are. Even if they don’t have weapons themselves, they’re still capable of hurting us.”

“Do the workers have weapons?” You ask curiously, but Lav shakes her head.

“They’re just workers, Ten” she says simply. “They’re probably slaves like us. I see no reason why you’d give an oppressed group weapons when they can easily turn that against you.”

“If the doctors don’t have weapons either, does that mean they’re oppressed?”

“Fuck no,” Lav pouts. “They’re not exactly below anyone but their boss. They have power over us. I wouldn’t exactly call them victims.”

You shift your gaze aside, feeling a bit guilty for having made her mad and ruining the moment between you two. However, you persist out of curiosity.

“Has anyone ever tried to leave? Anyone you’ve seen or known?”

Lav widens her eyes slightly, then shuts them to try thinking on this for a moment. After a while of staying silent, she re-opens her eyes and shakes her head.

“I can’t remember,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to escape. But I’m not exactly holding my breath for anyone who does. I really doubt it’s a cakewalk anyway. You have doctors and workers and whatever else to deal with. Plus, nobody has any idea what’s beyond the few hallways we do see. Even our bedrooms’ hallway just bends and hides away whatever’s beyond it. This place could be small, or it could be a huge maze. We have no clue.”

“So we just stay here until we die?” You frown. “What did we do to deserve this? We must have done something.”

“Bad things happen to good people,” Lav bluntly responds, sighing. “It’s just how it is, Ten. But don’t think about that right now, okay? Just focus on me.”

She tries to smile for you, making you calm down just a little. You give a light nod, turning your head again to continue leaning in Lav’s lap. You find it strange that she didn’t know how to respond to your questions right away, but you don’t want to pester her about it further. Instead, you re-focus your attention on being comforted by her touch.

“Nine,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” your friend continues petting your head again. “I’ll do this for you anytime, you know. And don’t be so afraid of talking to me next time!”

She gives a bit of a laugh, and you smile silently in response despite Lav not being able to see your face while it’s turned in her lap. The both of you stay quiet for a while after this, remaining in arms for a long time. It isn’t until the intercom chimes in to call everyone back to the gate and shakes you awake that you realize you passed out. Lav seems to have as well, her chest rising and falling gently as she leans against the padded wall. After groggily sitting back up, you gently nudge her awake, mentioning that it’s time to go.

“You go first,” she tiredly tells you. “It might be a bad idea to be seen together right now.”

Agreeing, you give Lav another quick hug and say your goodbyes, going off to meet your doctor again in the hall. Yosuke seems happy to see you, but doesn’t really say anything before moving to take you to your room. Before turning the corner, you try to peek one last time into the records office in the hopes that you can see who might be in there, but are again disappointed when you can’t. Silently, you follow your doctor to your room and obediently enter it, letting the door shut behind you.

As you hobble into bed, still groggy from your short nap, you begin to think a little more on Lav’s words about escaping. It suddenly occurs to you that she knew what was at the end of the hallway with all the bedrooms, when even you weren’t sure. As far as you really know, the bedroom and examination room numbers just keep increasing, and you have no idea to what number. With how spaced out all the rooms are, and given that there’s four to each Number, seeing down the hallway all the way to the end isn’t exactly an easy feat unless you have good enough eyesight. The only way to really see otherwise is to walk toward the end yourself.

You remember Cyrus mentioning even he had no idea how high the numbers went. Thinking back to your conversation with him then, he also seemed to mention knowing that other Numbers had died here. It occurs to you now that although he’d listed off a few ways how, he hadn’t explicitly stated that he knew people who ran away while still knowing that running away was fatal. The question of how he’d even know this if he never tried to run away himself vexes you. In order for him to have known for sure that running away lead to death, he would have had to witness someone dying from it. Lav certainly didn’t know anyone here who tried to run, and if Cyrus ever had tried to himself, he’d have been dead right now, wouldn’t he?

Thinking of all this hurts your head even more than all the issues you’ve been dealing with already. In annoyance, you attempt to force yourself asleep despite your pestering thoughts. At the very least, you try to cling to the satisfaction you felt in getting so much off your chest today. Even with all the other problems you’re facing between the Numbers and the doctors, being able to sort something out took off quite a lot of pressure. You partly pretend you’re still being comforted in Lav’s lap, and it’s this that helps lull you back to sleep again.

Chapter 38: Visit Eighteen - Solo

It takes a while for you to fully awaken, and even when you do, your head is still fairly groggy. You presume you were drugged again with how heavy your body feels, and this is only confirmed when your eyes slowly open to the bright white ceiling of your examination room. You try to move a hand to rub your eye, but realize that both your wrists have been tied with rope. They’re strangely not above you, but rather by your sides.

Feeling this makes you shake awake just slightly more as you realize you’re not even laying on your bed as you normally do, and that you’re instead laying across it with your knees bent and hanging over the edge. When you pick your head up to look at yourself, you see that your body has been completely stripped of clothes, your skin bare and your crotch open to the cold air. You also can more clearly see that your wrists have been tied to the side of the bed on the bar with black rope, but not directly so. There’s several inches of rope between the knot on the bar and the one on your wrists, allowing for you to move your arms and hands around just a bit.

Seeing your compromising position frustrates you. What makes it even worse is hearing the voice of a familiar doctor.

“Morning, girl,” it calls out from behind you with cheekiness. You tilt your head back and see Sven standing by a set of cabinets behind you. “Miss me?”

“No,” you scowl, immediately put off by his appearance. “You’re disgusting.”

“You know you like it, baby,” Sven grins. “You moan so good when I fuck you. I wanted to see you after we met in the hall the other day, but I had to wait my turn like a good boy. Can’t say the same for dear old ‘mother’. Woman does good work, but she’s a goddamn nutjob. I heard about what happened after I left. It’s pretty fucked, I think. Even I’m not that desperate, and I love doing this stuff.”

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Is…is she alive?” You ask. Sven merely cocks his head to the side.

“What are you asking that for? I thought you hated us,” He laughs. He doesn’t really give you a clear answer, which makes you glower. Having nothing else to say, you turn your head to the side, avoiding the man’s hazel stare. Sven walks slowly around the foot of your bed and toward your legs, reaching over and patting your outer thigh with one hand casually. You wince at his touch, not particularly eager to feel it.

“Now what’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t tell me you don’t like waking up all open and ready to be fucked,” he teases. “You are a little slut, after all.”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, balling your fists. You turn your head back up and glare at the man angrily. “Anyway, where’s your boyfriend? He usually shows up by now.”

“Why? Miss him?” Sven cocks a grin, ignoring your jab. “He’s busy, girl. We’re together a lot of times, but not always, and not for everyone. I like my little solo visits too, y’know. Besides, I wanted to have you all to myself today anyway. You looked like you wanted me to whisk you off the other day instead of my Number. Hell, you probably wanted me to fuck you right through those bars.”

“You think just because I react to you that I like it?” You scoff, balling your hands into fists. Sven gives a short chuckle and promptly leans over your body, pressing his crotch against yours and grabbing your chin aggressively.

“Oh, I know you like it, baby,” he grins, speaking with a low but playful voice while staring at you, still grinning. “You just don’t know how to admit you do. But you will. You’re just a little whore who’s always hungry for cock. You want everyone to fuck you and fill your little hole right up with their cum. You know you do.”

He laughs as you furrow your brows while still glaring at him in anger.

“You wanna know how your little friend likes it when I rape her? She’s almost as noisy as you are, but she can take a pounding like there’s no goddamn tomorrow. Girl’s built for fucking. She’s perfect for me.”

“Shut up!” You yell and shut your eyes, trying to tune Sven out. Hearing him talk about Lav this way infuriates you. Hearing any doctor make fun of your friends like this is despicable. But it admittedly feels good to be able to talk back when someone like Mom wouldn’t let you, even if it does pique the interest of some doctors to see you like this. Sven merely laughs at your frustration, his amusement growing even more when he leans in closer and you try to kick him away unsuccessfully. He moves his hand over your mouth and presses down hard, forcing your head into the bed.

“That’s my line,” he says, smirking as your face flushes. “Look at you, girl. You’re blushing just by being treated this way. You’re a slut. You want my cock, but I’m not gonna give it to you just yet. I need you to do me a favor first. You do that, then I’ll give my little whore as much of my cum as she likes.”

When Sven pulls his hand back, you spit in his face angrily, hitting his cheek. He doesn’t seem to be upset by this, rather amused.

“You’re all talk now, girl,” he chortles, strangely not wiping away the saliva. “But I know you, and I’ve heard a lot about how you are. You want to be strong, but you melt as soon as you start getting fucked, moaning and crying like a child. You’re gonna be begging me to stop the moment my dick pierces into you.”

He shakes his head.

“And I’m not gonna.”

You say nothing as Sven pulls away entirely and moves to stand back up. You shut your legs as Sven stands in front of you and starts to unbuckle his belt. He then moves to undo the zipper and button on his pants, tossing off his shoes all the while. Still staring at you with a smirk, he completely removes his pants and watches as you look away in embarrassment.

“Now don’t be rude, sweetheart,” Sven frowns. “Look at me, now.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, but do as told and turn back to him. In disgust, you watch as Sven makes use of your earlier outburst and coyly wipes your spit from his cheek, instead rubbing it onto his red-tipped cock to get it wet. You scorn that you gave him something to work with, but say nothing to him about it. You’re forced to watch as Sven stimulates himself, working his shaft slowly at first while he stares at your naked body.

“Open your legs, girl,” he commands with a smirk. “Show me your slutty little pussy while I touch myself.”

You hesitate, but slowly spread your legs open as ordered, scowling at the man while he starts to pick up his jerking pace.

“That cunt looks a little soiled to me,” he pretends to frown while teasing you. “How many cocks have you taken by now, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you bitterly answer him, clenching your fists. “You think I keep count of how many times you assholes fuck me?”

“Well that depends—are we counting times during bouts of unconsciousness, or aren’t we?” Sven questions readily. He watches with titillation as your eyes widen, with you feeling both offended by his comment and fearful at the reminder of your encounter with Milos.

“Now you look all scared, huh?” he laughs. “Where’s that strength from earlier?”

You again say nothing, scowling at Sven for bringing Milos up just to fuck with you.

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you just lay there this time,” Sven moves on, still working his shaft while he watches you. “Start playing with yourself.”

You blush as you hear this order, again frustrated that you’re being asked to do something that you were supposed to use for yourself. You suppose now that this is why your wrists were tied in such a way to allow for movement, and you obediently move a hand to your vulva to begin stimulating your clit with your fingers as expected. At the very least, despite knowing how to do masturbate, you refuse to do it precisely the same way you did the first time in the hopes of saving the more pleasurable sensations for yourself.

As you continue to circle your clit, you give a light gasp, feeling pleasure starting to rise slowly inside of you. It disgusts you to have to watch Sven jerk off in front of you, but you try to avoid thinking of him and unfocus your eyes so that you’re staring past Sven, not really at him. This doesn’t really do much to help given that you can hear the skin of his hand loudly and audibly rubbing against the skin of his cock, coupled with occasional wet sounds from the saliva.

Unfortunately, your attempts to avoid Sven are foiled when the man moves toward you as if privy to what you’re trying to do. He leans over your body again as he had before, pressing his free hand on the bed somewhere beside your torso to steady himself. He chuckles as he looks on at your blushing face, still grinning slyly.

“I’m not stupid,” he says suddenly. “I know you’re trying to avoid me. But I’m not gonna let you. So lay back and watch me while I touch my cock, girl. Both of us know you’re gonna get all excited and start wanting it in you anyway.”

You grimace as Sven says this, but are forced to continue looking on at the man’s hand working his shaft, his cock risen high and hard as he continues to masturbate over your body. He leaves enough space between your bodies so that you can keep working your clit, but you can still feel his warmth as he hovers over you. Watching Sven work his cock while it’s tip drips with precum makes you ill, but you’re forced to associate the sight of it with pleasure as you touch yourself and start to feel good doing so. Sven gives a few quick breaths and light pants as he continues to masturbate over your body, his eyes not once moving away from you. You can feel the fabric of the sheets by your torso get pulled away slightly as Sven clenches his hands and grabs the cloth with it.

“Start using your fingers, girl,” he grunts as he quickens the pace on his shaft. “Moan for me too.”

You clench your teeth, half in frustration and half in pleasure. However, you do as commanded and move your hand further down to start sticking your fingers into your pussy, which has become slightly wet from the stimulation on your clit. Your fingers don’t slide in all that easily since you’re not wet enough, but you’re able to stick them in there without any discomfort. Sven merely watches with a grin as you start to play with yourself more and moan for him as ordered. Admittedly, it feels good to touch yourself, but you don’t want Sven to think your noises are intentional.

The more you work your body, the wetter you become and the easier it is to slide your fingers in and out. Although you try not to let yourself feel too much pleasure in want of not giving Sven what he craves so easily, you find yourself giving into your touch more. Though your eyes are focused on the man hovering over you, your mind focuses on the feeling of your hand, on the feeling of your fingers thrusting in and out of your vagina and the thumb circling your clit eagerly. After a while, you start to close your eyes and pant lightly between your moans, but Sven’s hand again presses against your mouth, taking you by surprise. You open your eyes wide in shock, but see nothing but Sven gritting his teeth while he shoots out his load onto your stomach and chest, his warm cum landing on different parts of your skin. You whimper at the sensation, but are helpless to it as Sven finishes up, grunting while he releases just a bit more of his semen and lets it dribble from his tip to your abdomen.

“Your turn, girl” he chuckles after finishing up entirely, letting go of your mouth and watching eagerly as your own pleasure slowly builds while you continue to play with yourself. Not too long after Sven’s climax, you begin to feel yourself letting go too. It disgusts you to have Sven hovering over your face so eagerly while you let out your moans, but you eventually let yourself come, your pussy tightening around your fingers as they continue to thrust in and out of you. A long, loud moan slips out from your lips as you come, much to your assailant’s giddy pleasure. He continues to smirk at you while your body winds down from its arousal, and you press your head back into the mattress while lightly panting.

Before you have the chance to really pull your hand away from your crotch, you feel Sven grab it and pull it forcefully away from your body for you. Without giving you a chance to react to this, you feel Sven’s cock shove itself into your pussy hard, the sudden sensation making you yelp and pick your head back up to see what your assailant is doing to you. Though you’re wet and relaxed enough to take his dick, Sven’s sudden intrusion feels too sharp and uncomfortable for you. Even worse is that he’s now grabbing your legs and lifting them up high to a point that your body is forced to contort itself to accommodate his movement of you. Your legs are pushed up quite a bit, enough for you to feel some strain against the back of your thighs as they’re forced to accommodate being pulled back so much. Once they’re high enough that your feet are dangling a bit above your head, Sven leans against you to keep your legs in place while he pushes more and more into your pussy. He steadies himself on your bed with both hands pressing firmly against the mattress, and you tug on the ropes on your wrists desperately.

“That feels weird!” You grunt as you’re forced to take him. “Put my legs down!”

Sven laughs.

“You know you like it,” he teases you, grunting more as he thrusts out and back into you once. “This’ll make your pussy feel really good. I’m doing you a favor, little slut.”

You gasp loudly as Sven thrusts in and out of you once more, slapping his crotch against yours.

“Now lay back and enjoy,” he grins, beginning to thrust in and out of you more steadily now. You grunt and whimper as you feel him enter you in this position. You’ve had your legs held up before, but this feels excessive and a bit painful with how much pulling it’s doing on the back of your thighs. With each thrust into your pussy that Sven gives, your calves and feet shake just a bit.

“My legs hurt!” You grunt between his thrusts, balling your fists. “I’ll take any other position, just put them down!”

“No,” Sven denies your begging request, staring at you with a sly smile while he thrusts into you more. “I want it like this.”

He pulls completely out of you for just a moment, but immediately pushes back in and thrusts hard against you, making you yelp with pleasure in spite of your pain. He repeats this one more time, but immediately continues to thrust steadily into you, laughing at your reactions to him.

You throw your head back and groan as you’re fucked more. The sensation of Sven’s cock pumping in and out of you while you’re angled this way feels good, but you only want desperately for it to be over so that you can get some relief. Your face becomes fairly red, both from your blushing and from your straining to keep your legs still while Sven bucks his hips eagerly against you.

“It’s starting to feel good, isn’t it?” He grins as he watches you shut your eyes and pant in rhythm to his thrusts. “Come on, baby, just let go already.”

You say nothing, still caught up in your panting and moaning to really respond. You want to beg Sven to stop, but not only do you know it’d be pointless to, but you also don’t want to hear him say “I told you so” when he predicted you’d beg. You feel utterly helpless as Sven pounds into you, his expression intense and wild as he continues to watch you struggle and whimper. After a while of steady thrusts, Sven begins to go faster and harder, panting heavily and grunting as he tightens his grip on the sheets.

“I’m gonna come,” he pants. “I’m gonna fucking come!”

Despite being nowhere near ready yourself, you lay back and endure Sven as you feel his cum spurt into your pussy, filling you readily. He continues to thrust less speedily as he finishes up inside of you, groaning loudly as he releases his load. Once he finally calms down, he hunches over your body and stares into your eyes while catching his breath. As he pants heavily, you feel his hot breath on your face which leaves you somewhat nauseous. Sven merely chuckles at your attempts to avoid eye contact with him, watching as you start to move your head to the side. He pulls his torso away just enough so that your legs can come back down, but he doesn’t pull his penis out of your body just yet. The relief you feel from being let go, however, is massively satisfying.

“If you want to come too, you better start moving your hips against me,” Sven says straightforwardly. “Show me how much of a whore you really are.”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him sharply, still breathing a bit heavy from your pounding. Despite what you say, you do feel disappointed that you didn’t get to climax too, but you don’t want to give Sven any sort of satisfaction.

“You sure?” the cocky young man teases you, pulling back and thrusting sharply into you one more time. The sudden movement makes you whimper pleasurably, much to Sven’s amusement.

“Start fucking rolling your hips,” he commands more gruffly this time. Sven wipes some of the cum on your chest from earlier and shoves his finger in your mouth, wiping the sour substance on your tongue and forcing you to taste it. “If you don’t, I won’t let you come at all today. I’ll just keep using your body so that I can get myself off. That’s why you’re here, anyway. Making you feel good is just a courtesy I can easily revoke.”

You grimace at his words, but decide feeling some pleasure and being disgusted by it is better than feeling nothing at all. Begrudgingly, you give into Sven’s orders and start to move your hips around, thrusting your body against his so that his cock slides in and out of you without him having to really move. It’s much easier to do as he asked of you with your legs now free, and you’re at least able to focus on the pleasure more than the pain in your thighs. You continue to buck against Sven’s crotch, your clit rubbing against him with each thrust and making you feel good. All the while, you avoid his sly gaze, but feel it piercing into you even when you look away. His warm cum is still resting inside of you, and so every slide you make against his cock as you roll your hips around feels and sounds sticky.

“That’s right,” Sven chuckles. “Keep going, like a good little slut.”

You grunt in annoyance at these words, but keep going against Sven until you feel your body finally responding to the pleasure. You let out a few moans while you continue to thrust against Sven, eventually feeling yourself ready to climax. In moments, you let go completely, wildly pushing your body against and away from Sven’s cock, riding it until you can’t anymore. When you’re completely done, you relax your body and close your eyes, panting in recovery.

“Now see? You really do like this shit,” Sven chortles, sliding his dick out of your wet cunt. “But I’m not done here, sweetheart. Let’s have a little more fun, mm?”

Sven then moves back a bit and reaches to undo one rope on the bar of the bed, effectively freeing your left wrist.

“Get on your knees,” He commands you, pointing to the bed. You give Sven a glare, but do what he says and move to position yourself on the bed, turning over and moving your legs over the bar so that you can kneel on top of the mattress and its sheets. It takes a bit of awkward adjusting to do so with one wrist still tied, but you eventually are able to get in the position Sven no doubt wants. The wrist that’s still tied is still able to pull back enough from the bar to let you place your hand on the bed, but you still have to stay somewhat close to the edge nonetheless.

Your eyes drop down once you’ve gotten into position, your body wincing as you anticipate Sven’s touch. Without skipping a beat, he climbs atop the bed with you, hovering over your body from behind. Chuckling, he grabs your breasts and plays with them in his hands, squeezing and pulling at the things forcefully in a way that feels uncomfortable, but nowhere near as rough as it had felt with Mom the last time she saw you.

“Damn, I almost forgot how good your tits felt,” Sven laughs slightly as he continues toying with your breasts. You can feel Sven’s cock hovering over your backside as he’s hunched over you while silently hoping he isn’t going to stick it in your ass. “You probably wish Jude was here, huh? So he could stick his dick in your mouth while I take you from here.”

“Shut up,” you grunt as you try to stay still while you’re groped. “I don’t like it. Stop trying to tell me that I do. I just do what you assholes tell me.”

“Barely,” Sven frowns, squeezing your breasts harder and making you gasp. “You’ve got a mouth on you, you know. Some of us might like it, but I can only take it for so long.”

“You sound like Micah,” you grunt again as Sven continues to be rough with his groping.

“That pretentious motherfucker?” Sven laughs. “He thinks he’s so goddamn special just because he has a few piercings and likes to play with knives. Thinks he’s a bad boy. The freak can’t even get it up without running around in latex pajamas. Him and Lilah are pretty fucked with how much they need to get off.”

“At least he fucked better in that thing than you do on your own!” you angrily shoot out without thinking. You then blush then realizing your admittance to Sven that you didn’t entirely hate Micah’s latex encounter, though you somewhat feel that hurting the man’s pride is worth it. On cue, you feel one of his hands drop from your chest and move to smack your ass hard, making you gasp.

“You trying to piss me off?” Sven questions you in annoyance. “Little bitch. You ought to be quiet.”

He moves his other hand up from your chest and toward your head, clamping it firmly over your mouth. With his free hand, he trails his fingers down your stomach and toward your vulva. Laughing lightly, Sven separates the folds of your labia and presses the head of his cock against your vagina from behind you, teasing it, but not necessarily entering you just yet.

“Let’s replace that backtalk with some moaning,” he breathes into your ear. With a heavy grunt, he pushes his cock hard into your wet pussy and makes you whimper loudly. With his dick inside of you, Sven raises his hand from your labia and places his fingers on your clit, rubbing it while he starts to ride your body with steady strides. You clench your fists at the pleasure this brings you, moaning into Sven’s hand muffledly while he chuckles in amusement.

“There’s my little slut,” he teases you, moving his hand away from your clit and spanking you hard again. “Like that, baby?”

You groan into Sven’s hand as you feel the skin on your ass start to sting from the pain, though you admit it feels strangely good. He starts massaging your ass slightly while he rides you, making the area feel even more tender. Without giving a warning, Sven moves his hand back and spanks your ass again, the sensation of the pain pairing with the feeling of your pussy being wetly pounded into from behind. You give another groan of pain and pleasure, making your assailant chuckle.

“Now don’t try to tell me you don’t like it,” he coyly remarks. “Getting fucked from behind and spanked like a little brat? You really are a whore.”

Sven continues to wetly pump his cock into your pussy, increasing his speed as his arousal grows. He eventually throws his head back, giving off a series of pants, grunts, and groans as he starts to climax.

“I’m gonna come in that pretty little cunt of yours, sweetheart,” He tells you with heavy growls and grunts. “If you don’t come with me, I’m gonna make you work for your pleasure again.”

You whimper into Sven’s hand as you feel helpless to his pounding, your fingers curling against the sheets of the bed while you continue to steady yourself. Despite not being ready, you try to force yourself to come with him, not really wanting to have to ride him yourself again. You can feel Sven’s cock starting to throb inside of you, and the sensation luckily helps to trigger your own pleasure. With a loud grunt, Sven begins to climax. He wraps his arm under your waist as he does so, making you stay close to him while he keeps pumping cum into your pussy with heavy thrusts. You begin to climax just after, bucking your body back into Sven’s dick eagerly as you feel pleasure swelling inside you. With one last bit of effort, Sven smacks your ass once more, making you cry into his hand eagerly while you continue to orgasm. After a moment of bliss, the both of you finish up and start to pant and gasp. Sven then gives a light laugh as he rubs your stomach.

“There you go, baby,” he teases you. “You like being come into huh? Getting your pretty little hole filled?”

You start to feel tired from coming again, unable to properly react to Sven’s jabs at you. You whimper once more as he sharply pulls his penis out of your body, a loud, wet noise emanating from your sopping hole as he does so. While he fully pulls away from your body and gets off of the bed, you pant more as you try to come down from your orgasm, your chest rising and falling sharply with each breath. However, despite wanting to rest, you feel Sven grab your waist and pull you off the bed, making you gasp in surprise at the sudden feeling of being swept away.

Without giving you a chance to react, he turns you face down while you’re kneeling on the floor and leans in to tie your free wrist back to the bar on the bed. When he’s done this, he picks your body back up and angles you so that you’re standing bent over with your arms ahead of you and your ass up. Sven then spreads your legs, grabbing onto your hips to keep you steady.

“You’re still not done?!” You gasp as you feel Sven thrust his cock again into your pussy. By now, with how wet you’ve become from your activity, it’s far easier to take his dick despite how forcefully he pushes it in.

“What, are you tired?” Sven laughs. “That’s too bad. I want to come in you just a bit more, so keep yourself nice and still. If you take me like a good girl and stay quiet, I’ll stop.”

“F-fine,” you grunt, defeatedly agreeing to his terms. You keep your head down and your legs open for Sven, letting him take your body for himself and silently hoping that he’ll be done soon. You wince as he presses his hands firmly against your hips to keep you in place.

As you feel his cock burrowing into you, your hands grip the bar on the bed tightly. Then, when Sven begins to pump and thrust into your body, you grit your teeth. Again, you feel your assailant smack your ass while he rides you, the noise of the contact echoing throughout the examination room. You cry out at the stinging feeling, but Sven does it again without massaging you this time. Though he spanks you less harshly than he had before, you still want to tell him to ease up as you’re starting to feel sore. However, you’re sure he’s trying to bait you into speaking so that he has a reason to keep fucking you after this. You instead hold your tongue, keeping your jaw tightly clenched as you endure more of Sven’s cock and his steady spanking. The combination of both sensations, and the constant stinging contact of flesh makes you moan and groan wildly, much to your assailant’s pleasure. He eventually stops hitting you and grips your waist again, this time more firmly as his pumping pace speeds up.

“I’m gonna come,” Sven finally grunts after a while of this. “Come with me and I’ll let you go, girl.”

You tighten your grip on the bar of the bed even more as you hear this, your ass completely sore and recovering from all the hits. You’re able to focus more on Sven’s thrusts into you now, disgusted by the sloppy, wet noises your pussy makes as the man behind you pumps into it eagerly while grunting and groaning. You give out a whimper and a moan as you feel your own body responding pleasurably to him, ready to succumb to his sex. In moments, you feel Sven’s cock spurting semen into your cunt yet again, and you give out a loud yell as you climax alongside him. As he finishes up inside of you and slows his thrusts, Sven grabs your ass firmly, massaging his fingers into your sore skin while laughing loudly.

“There, there, sweetheart,” he pants as he tries to catch his breath. “Now you’re all full of my cum, huh? Just like you like it.”

You groan loudly as you feel Sven sharply pull his dick out of you, feeling nothing but wetness spilling from your pussy now. Exhausted by his assault on your body, you finally kneel back down and breathe in and out heavily, heaving your chest as you lay your head against the bed and grip the side bar tightly. Sven chuckles at you, watching with infatuation at your defeat. He moves on to clean himself off with a towel from the cabinets, then re-does his belt and pants as per usual. When he’s finished recomposing himself, Sven moves over to where you are and grabs your hair by your scalp, forcing your head up and turning it toward him. He kneels down by you and kisses you hard on the mouth. Despite wanting to push away, you’re unable to with the rope still attached to your wrists. Even with the extra movement you’re allotted, you’re unable to adequately reach him. However, this kiss doesn’t last very long, and Sven immediately pulls back and drops your tired head back onto the mattress. Pleased with himself, he pats your cheek playfully.

“I’m done with you now,” he says bluntly, standing back up. “Until next time.”

You grip the bar of the bed even more tightly, frustrated by Sven’s behavior and use of you. However, you say nothing as the man walks off, leaving you to the mercy of the drug you’re sure is being pumped into the room now. You wish the Numbers didn’t have to deal with doctors like these. Hearing all the other doctors talk about their Numbers like they’re just playthings infuriates you.

This isn’t fair! You think to yourself, shutting your eyes. This just isn’t fucking fair!

You wonder why it had to be you and your friends plucked from the world to service perverted doctors. You wouldn’t wish anything like this on your worst enemy. A part of you questions whether remembering who you used to be would make your captivity better or worse. You try hard to remember even one single thing from your life, anything that isn’t just basic information about the world. Every part of you that you try to reach is blocked off by static, every attempt to recollect your real self is met with numbness in your brain. You’re not sure how everyone else can remember things like skills they used to have or songs or anything else, whereas you can’t remember anything at all about who you might have been, not even a little bit.

Despite your rising anger, you eventually start to feel the drug taking its effect on your body and are unable to fight it. You soon let yourself fall to its lull until nothing seems comprehensible anymore.

Chapter 39: Rest Nineteen - Convergence

When your mind is able to comprehend things again and your senses return, you come to realize you’re being toweled off by your doctor in the showers and that you’re sitting on the floor. Your body still feels a bit sluggish as the drug is wearing off in you, but Yosuke offers his hand to you to help you up. Begrudgingly, you stick yours out and let him take it, feeling your body be raised by your doctor gently and almost inviting the warmth his touch brings you after your discomforting encounter with Sven. You almost trip trying to stand up, stumbling against Yosuke groggily. However, he helps you walk over to the entrance and seats you on the bench there while he moves to dress you again.

“Sven did a number on you,” Yosuke notes as he puts both your legs into the holes of a fresh pair of panties and pulls them up toward your trunk. You grip his shoulders and lift your bottom just enough for him to slide the things completely on you, but drop your hands from his shoulders promptly after. “But luckily that mark on you will heal fairly soon. I’m not too concerned about it.”

“I’ll just add it to the list of my other injuries,” you mutter as your grogginess slowly starts to fade. You look down at your chest and notice that your scar from before is starting to close up. This makes your stomach churl as you realize you might have to see Micah again sometime soon. “I thought you guys wanted us to look pretty. I feel kind of ugly with all this damage to my body.”

“Most all injuries fade with time, my pet,” Yosuke smiles as he motions for you to lift your arms up so that he can dress you with a fresh gown. You obey, too tired to really argue. Your doctor continues to talk while he tugs the flimsy thing over you. When his head reaches the same level as yours, he gives your cheek a quick peck. “And you’re beautiful, dear. Don’t be so self-conscious. The human body is something special, even when it is battered and broken. In fact, you know very well that there are people here who prefer it that way.”

You say nothing to this, assuaged by neither his compliments nor his reminding you of people like Lilah. However, you feel somewhat better with a fresh set of clothes and a clean body, so you suppose it’s better to focus on that. Once you’re ready, Yosuke takes you out to the hall and toward the recreational areas. You notice that the records office door is now completely closed this time, but the gate still opens when you approach it as it usually does. Despite wondering about Mom before, you find yourself trying to push her out of your mind entirely this time.

Yosuke gives your cheek a quick rub with the back of his hand before he lets you go. This doesn’t necessarily please you, but you start to feel heaps better the moment he disappears from your sight. Now fully awake from the drug, you decide to try seeing if Eight’s around, thinking he has the right to know about the dangers of being seen with other Numbers around the doctors. You first check the library, noting that there’s the noise of muffled talking and bouncing rubber coming from behind the doors of the gym as you pass them. You’re sure that the others are there today, but you decide to set your sights on Eight first. When you don’t see him in the library, you know to check the music room instead, and so you head over promptly.

As if on cue, you hear the somber sounds of the violin as soon as the doors open, smiling slightly at the thought of Eight doing what he loves now that his strength is no doubt regained. Quietly, you head inside. When you pass the large, long cabinet of instruments, you see Eight gliding his bow across his violin gently, producing a sorrowful melody that you haven’t heard before. Since he’s not facing away from the shelves as he had been last time, Eight sees that you’ve entered the room and glances up at you with his light green eyes from his instrument just barely enough to get a good look at you. However, he continues to play, saying nothing and remaining focused on his song. Respectfully, you sit silently on the floor, leaning against the wall across from him with your knees up and your arms folded over them. You watch the young man intently with a slight smile as he plays. Though the music is sad, you feel as though you could use a sad melody now, still a bit low in mood from recent events. You find yourself enjoying the violin’s lull, and are almost disappointed when the song ends.

“That was lovely,” you compliment Eight softly as he lowers his instrument and drops his hands to the side. He looks at you with focused eyes, but says nothing for a good while. In confusion, you reciprocate his gaze. “…Is something wrong?”

“I heard what happened,” he says suddenly and fairly bluntly. He lowers his eyes but gives a light scowl. “You and ‘Mother’ woke me up.”

Your heart drops as he says this. Your smile fades then, and you look away in embarrassment with your cheeks becoming slightly red.

“Oh…” is all you can really say. However, Eight looks back up at you for a moment, then inhales and exhales slowly.

“She’s despicable,” he says simply before dropping the subject entirely. You remain sitting on the floor, looking down and feeling flustered. Being reminded about the other day’s events leaves you frustrated yet again, and for some reason you feel this even more strongly now despite having held on fairly okay otherwise previously. You almost want to cry with how shameful you feel now, but you try to hold it in.

“What do you want to hear?” Eight’s voice suddenly shakes you from your thoughts. You pick up your head and look up at him once more with confusion, but he doesn’t seem to be looking at you. He’s instead focusing on the floor and avoiding eye contact with you while his violin sits perched on his shoulder, ready to be played. You realize that this Eight’s attempt at being sympathetic to you without him having to explicitly admit that it is. Your heart flutters at this understanding gesture, but you say nothing about it so as not to upset the young man or make him feel uncomfortable.

“Something sweet,” you answer him simply. Eight thinks a moment, but eventually picks up his bow and begins to play again. You’re not familiar with this song either, but it sounds charming and soft, its mild and sweet sounds flowing gently into your ears. This proves to be soothing, influencing your sour mood and molding it into something more pleasant. When the song eventually ends, you look up at Eight and smile.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t really say anything in response, but slightly furrows his brows and keeps looking away as he drops his violin again. You suddenly remember why you came here at all and decide to try talking to Eight about what happened.

“I know you were here yesterday, but I don’t know if you heard the news,” you speak up, making Eight glance over at you curiously.

“What news?”

“Cyrus just said we have to be more careful about being seen with other Numbers in front of the doctors,” you explain. “Mom drugged him and another Number a while ago and put them together. I know you don’t really talk to anyone, but…I thought you should know.”

“I’m not the one who should,” Eight responds almost sharply. You sigh and suppose he isn’t wholly wrong, but you can’t say you didn’t try to warn him. “Anyway, I’m not that stupid. I know I need to be careful. That’s not news to me.”

“I guess not,” you frown. “You…um….”

“I what?” Eight lightly snaps at you when you begin to trail off.

“You don’t think less of him for that, do you?” Your eyes wander hopefully to Eight’s as you ask him this, but he seems unmoved.

“I suppose it wasn’t his fault,” He answers bluntly. “Nor the other person’s. Whether they enjoyed it is another story, but that’s not necessarily my business. I don’t really care.”

“I guess I’m not surprised you wouldn’t,” you almost laugh. Not having Eight speak ill of what happened is extremely relieving. You’d half expected him to be rude and reprimanding about it.

“I don’t actively involve myself in gossip about Numbers,” Eight notes, lowering a brow. “I only overhear what I can’t tune out. I can avoid people all I want, but I can’t turn my ears off. I know about Five and Six for that reason alone, though they’re beside one another so much that it’d be hard not to notice they were together anyway. At least they’re diligent about being safe. They’re not completely brainless in that regard.”

You open your mouth to speak as Eight prepares to ignore you by positioning his violin back on his left shoulder. When you see this, you don’t bother to say anything more, letting the young man play another song. This particular somber and gentle tune is familiar to you, and you recognize it as one he played the first time you were here with him. In fact, it’s the same one he seemed to play after you forced him to pick up his violin again, and you wonder whether Eight played it subconsciously or intently. Regardless, you let yourself sway to the lull of this song as you had the other, feeling at peace. However, in the midst of Eight’s playing, you hear the music room doors open.

With the violin so close to his ears, Eight doesn’t seem to notice the door’s sounds at first. You turn to the opening between the wall and the shelf to your right only to see Lav creeping in slowly, as if tiptoeing and trying not to make noise. Evidently, she hadn’t expected to hear the refined sounds of music from a practiced violinist, as she seems to have a fairly confused expression on her face. She doesn’t even seem to acknowledge you at first when she comes forward, instead looking at Eight with surprise as she watches him from the corner of the shelf. The young man doesn’t see her at first given that his eyes are closed in his focus of the music, but he promptly opens them in surprise when Lav finally speaks up.

“Holy shit, you play the violin?!” She almost laughs, both astonished and amused by this fact. Her sudden interruption catches Eight completely off guard, and he almost drops his instrument entirely. Stumbling and catching both the violin and the bow in his hands, he shoots Lav an angry glare.

“Get out!” He yells defensively at her.

“Not only do you play the violin, but you’re really not bad,” Lav chuckles, ignoring his angry jabs. “I didn’t know that about you, damn.”

“I said get out!” Eight repeats himself, scowling. “I don’t want you here!”

Lav folds her arms, glancing at you with a raised brow.

“You’re playing for Ten,” she points out, then walks forward. She leans against the wall, taking her places standing beside you. “If you can play for her, you can play for me. What makes her so different?”

“I am not doing this shit again,” Eight puts a hand to his temples, still gripping the bow in a few of his curled fingers. “Why the fuck do I keep attracting such bossy women?”

“Who said I was attracted to you?” Lav tilts her head in jest. “Anyway, I only came in to see if Ten was here. We’re all in the gym right now and I heard the gate open earlier, so I wanted to look for her to invite her over.”

“Then take her and leave.”

Lav persists despite Eight’s protests, tilting her head up and leaning it against the wall. “Finish your song first, then maybe we’ll go.”

You glance at Eight and give a sheepish smile and shrug as if apologizing, but the young man just gives an exasperated, long sigh.

“Whatever, fuck!” he groans, re-positioning his violin again. Rather than start the song he was playing from the beginning, Eight picks up where he left off. You’re sure this is because he wants to get you and Lav out of the room faster. You look up at your friend beside you and watch as her expression becomes soft and enamored, her eyebrows raising as she hears how Eight gracefully plays his instrument. As he continues to focus on the music, his frustrated demeanor lessens, and his scowling expression eases up. Lav tries to say something quietly to you in the middle of his playing, but you raise a finger to your lips politely with a smile to hush her, an act which Lav follows by remaining silent and continuing to listen intently.

Once Eight finally finishes playing the somber melody, he lowers his instrument and looks at Lav, almost expectantly.

“That was really good,” She compliments him, smiling lightly. “You’re really gifted, you know.”

“You can leave now,” Eight persists, this time with far less anger in his voice. He looks away, pouting slightly. You’re assuming he took Lav’s compliment positively, but doesn’t seem to know how to say something as simple as “thank you”. You almost want to laugh seeing him genuinely uncomfortable with a straightforward word of kindness toward something he’s passionate about.

“How long have you practiced?” Lav persists, ignoring his light demand. “Have you just been here every day?”

“No,” Eight answers her begrudgingly. He knows as well as you that she’s not going to leave yet, so he seems to defeatedly indulge her. “I’m here a lot, but not always. But when I am here, I don’t really like being barged in on. Especially not in the middle of a song.”

“I mean sorry, but that was just incidental,” Lav shrugs. “Anyway, I’m a little jealous, you know. I’d love to be able to play an instrument like that. I really like the viola, but…”

Eight raises a brow when Lav trails off. “But what?”

“I dunno, I just don’t know how to play it,” Lav shrugs, looking down. “I feel strongly about the thing if you really wanna know, but I’ve never been able to figure out how to play.”

“You’ve been in here?” You widen your eyes at her, surprised by this information. You realize she never really spoke up about music back when the other Numbers were discussing instruments in the cafeteria.

“I mean, a few times,” your lavender companion shrugs again. “I tried the viola and I sucked at it. But I know how to hold it and use the bow, sorta.”

Eight glances at Lav and lowers his brows contemplatively.

“Maybe you knew how to play once,” he suggests, mumbling. “It’s unfortunate that you don’t.”

“Well, I’m more of an athlete anyway,” Lav sighs. “It’s not that important.”

“It is,” Eight almost sounds sympathetic, much to your surprise. “I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself if I couldn’t play anymore, or if I suddenly forgot how to.”

He then shakes away his sympathetic tone and regains his usual cynical, biting one.

“But the violin is a superior string instrument. Certainly more refined and dignified than the viola. Those things are too clunky and are largely insignificant when accompanied by other, more important instruments. If you knew or could remember anything about music, you’d know that.”

“Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Lav frowns. “The viola isn’t clunky, it’s just bigger and stronger than that paperweight you call a violin. It sounds low and it sounds good. Violins are just screechy and whiny. Like their players.”

Eight scowls slightly and in annoyance at Lav, much to her amusement.

“Anyway, I’m sure I could play circles around you if I could remember how to. Or if I learned.”

“Then try,” Eight challenges her with a smirk. This makes Lav look at him with a red and almost offended face, but she pushes off the wall and goes toward the entrance of the music room. You hear shuffling from behind the shelf, and when Lav returns, she has a viola in her hand.

“Fine, asshole. But don’t laugh,” she points her bow at Eight sharply. “I’m at a disadvantage.”

“Don’t talk shit if you can’t follow up, then,” Eight teases her coyly, making the young woman’s face grow redder. She gives a light scoff and groan, but positions the viola on her right shoulder in preparation to play. Before she can even touch the bow to the viola’s strings, Eight stops her.

“Your form is wrong,” he chides the young woman. “You’re slouching. If you’re such an athlete, you should know how to keep your back straight. I’d expect you to have bodily awareness.”

Lav says nothing, but corrects her mistake while giving Eight a bit of a glare, pouting all the while. She continues to try playing the instrument in her hand. At first, she’s able to produce a rich, low sound, one you find is equally as soothing as that of the violin, if only in a different way than the higher-pitched instrument. However, despite Lav’s best efforts, she doesn’t really seem to know what notes to play. After a few moments of good, random notes, she starts to play flatly. Eight then raises his hand to stop her, and Lav drops the viola from her shoulder, still pouting.

“Told you.”

“It wasn’t initially awful for someone who has no idea how to play,” Eight says simply. Though his words are kind, his tone is still condescending and upfront. “Practice. You’ll never be as good as me, but maybe you won’t suck so bad if you try.”

“Geez, hotshot, why don’t you try it then?” Lav furrows her brows, sticking the viola out toward Eight. However, he shakes his head.

“I can’t play that thing,” he remarks without hesitation. “They’re not interchangeable. It’s possible to learn the other, but it’s not an immediate transition. The technique is different—you can’t just pick up and go. The violin is mine, Nine. The viola is, to some bare extent, yours. If you knew how to play it, you’d find it difficult to adjust to the violin.”

He chuckles lightly in some uppity amusement. “Plus you’d probably fling it right off your shoulder with how much of a ‘paperweight’ it is. Someone with shoulders like yours is more suited to the viola anyway.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” Lav raises a brow, but Eight merely smirks to himself. Before anything else can be said, you again hear the music room doors open. All three of you turn your heads toward the opening between the shelves and the wall, but you notice from the corner of your eye that Eight is now holding his violin behind his back, evidently not wanting anyone else to remark on it. From the area beside the shelf emerges a confused Six, her eyes widening when she sees you and Lav.

“Damn, I wasn’t actually expecting to find you guys here,” She almost laughs. “Nine, you’ve been gone for a while. We were waiting on you to come back so we can start a game. I had to go looking for you when you didn’t return.”

She then looks at the viola in Lav’s hands, then at Eight.

“Um, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lav tells her, laughing. “I was about to head out anyway. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Six gives a bit of a nod, then waves slightly before leaving again. When she’s gone, Lav turns to you.

“So, I guess I can formally ask you now if you’d like to play basketball with us,” She invites, putting her viola down on a nearby chair. “Or watch, if you don’t want to.”

“I’d be fine watching,” you tell her with a smile. However, you frown thinking about Sven earlier. “I’m a little tired from my visit, actually. I…saw your doctor.”

Lav seems to understand, biting her lip a bit and looking away, but not really saying anything in comment to your statement. However, she glances over at Eight who seems to be watching intently and waiting for both of you to leave.

“Um…Wanna come with, Eight?” She asks almost hesitantly. “Might be fun.”

“Not interested,” Eight answers rather quickly, unmoved. “I don’t like sports.”

“Well, I only ask because you coaxed me into something you obviously like to do,” Lav responds, rolling her eyes around. “I thought you might want to give something I like a try. Plus, you did make a fool of me. It’s only fair I do the same to you.”

“Not. Interested.” Eight firmly repeats himself, turning away and preparing to play his violin again. However, you start to stand up and call out to him.

“Eight, wait!” You interrupt him as he’s bringing his bow to the instrument. “You still owe me, right? If you do this, we’ll be even.”

“Owe her?” Lav raises a brow, but neither you nor Eight acknowledge this, focused now on one another.

“You seriously want to waste your one free ticket on a basketball game?” He scoffs. “I expected you to choose something better. And something that wouldn’t make me feel foolish.”

“I mean, Nine’s right. It might be fun,” you try to coax him, giving a light smile. “Please? I won’t ask anything else of you after.”

Eight looks at both you and Lav with furrowed brows, but eventually sighs and drops his instrument again to his side.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, evidently annoyed by the both of you pestering him about it. Unlike Lav, he moves back to the shelf by the entrance to put his instrument away, though your lavender companion politely follows his lead soon after and takes the viola off the chair she’d set it on and back to its case. Eight doesn’t take the lead out of the music room, rather letting you and Lav head out first while he drags his feet behind you in silence, his arms folded, and his face scrunched up slightly.

“You wanna explain the whole owing him thing?” Lav speaks lowly in your ear, but you give a sheepish shrug.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” you answer with almost a chuckle, finally reaching the gym doors now. As they open, you catch sight of Cyrus and Six on the court playing against each other. Cyrus has a basketball in his hands, but when he turns to look at the three of you by the door, Six knocks it out of his grasp with a laugh, then proceeds to run past him and shoot into the leftmost basket.

“You can’t get distracted like that!” She teases Cyrus when he seems bewildered by the move. “That’s three for me. You lose.”

“I could have caught up if we went on longer,” Cyrus laughs. He then looks at Eight from behind you and drops his smile slightly, rather looking on with confusion. However, he doesn’t really say anything about this unexpected presence, not wanting to make it a big deal. To your right, you see the other Numbers sitting around, with Two and Three sitting on one of the metal benches, while Five and Blue are on another one beside it. Violet is huddled up in the far-right corner of the gym with her knees up, watching everyone intently but not really participating with them otherwise. She doesn’t seem upset, but rather just focused and observant. She catches sight of you rather immediately, with both of you locking eyes for a split second before she looks away almost in frustration. You wonder whether she’d heard what happened in the hall too, but don’t want to have to think about it now.

As you and Lav walk forward, you’re able to more clearly see how sweaty Six and Cyrus are, and you assume they’ve been playing for a bit. The other Numbers seem eager to see you both, giving their usual greetings with kind smiles. However, when they catch sight of Eight, everything seems to stop. Nobody really knows what to say, though you notice a few eyes wandering to the bruises on Eight’s arms before wandering back to you and Lav in search of an explanation as to why Eight’s here. Meanwhile, your unwilling tagalong avoids meeting everyone’s gaze, and you can see him getting visibly uncomfortable with the silent attention, his eyes flickering around to anything but the others.

“Eight’s gonna join for a bit,” You tell everyone. “Try not to make it a big deal, okay?”

“Um…sure?” Six raises a brow. Two and Three both look at one another with confusion, but then give light shrugs to you. Blue says nothing, simply observing Eight with a light pout while the peachy Five gives an inviting smile. You can’t really read Violet’s expression from her corner, but she doesn’t seem particularly moved either way by Eight’s appearance.

“Is he actually gonna play?” Six asks after a moment of hesitation. Eight gives a light shrug despite not being directly addressed.

“Is anyone else?” he asks. Even a simple question as this sounds bitter coming from him.

“The twins don’t feel like playing and Five wanted to watch,” Cyrus speaks up finally. “It was mostly just me, Nine, and Six tossing the ball around. If we had another player, we could do two on two.”

He turns his head toward you. “Were you going to play, Ten?”

“No, I was gonna watch,” You answer him, lightly waving your hand back and forth in front of your body. “I’m not feeling up to being super active right now.”

Cyrus’ eyes flicker to the floor for just a moment, but still tries to remain cheery for you.

“You can keep score for us, then,” he says with a smile. “We’ll do first to ten.”

“Sure, that shouldn’t be too hard.” You give a light nod, but keep an eye out for Violet from the corner of your eye. She seems to be avoiding looking your way entirely now, but you can’t make out her expression from where she is.

“Hey, if it’s us four that are gonna play, how do you wanna split the teams?” Lav asks Cyrus and Six, folding her arms.

“You could do boys versus girls,” Three suggests from the bench with a giggle. “It might be fun!”

“Fun for you all to watch maybe,” Eight pouts. “But I’ll take whatever.”

“I’ll kick your ass either way,” Six smirks. “You better put your all into it.”

Eight merely gives a subtle roll of his eyes, then looks at you with annoyance for making him put up with this. For as bad as you feel, it also amuses you to see him this way. Much to your surprise, the grey-clothed young man moves his hands toward his face and gently slides his glasses off, folding them and handing them to you. Seeing his eyes open this way without the thick frames around them makes his face look softer than usual, which you admit suits him better. Unfortunately, seeing him without his glasses doesn’t help the fact that some of his facial features still look somewhat like Yosuke’s, and you instinctively blush when you notice it. Eight frowns when he sees this, but doesn’t have to warn you about it before you try to shake the thought away. You take his glasses in your hands and move to sit on the bench beside the twins, waving at Five and Blue to your right when you do.

“That work for you, Nine?” Cyrus asks Lav while Six trots back toward the left side of the court to grab the basketball from the ground. The lavender-dressed young woman gives a smirk and a nod.

“You don’t stand a chance against me, Cyrus,” She boasts with a wink. Lav then turns her head to Eight and gives him a pat on the back. “As for you? Just try your best. ‘Kay?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Eight frowns before trudging onto the court to meet with Cyrus.

“You know how to play, don’t you?” He teases the ever-begrudging Eight who gives his teammate a glare.

“I’m not stupid. Of course I know how to play,” he says simply. “It’s the physical aspect that bugs me. Plus, I’m at a disadvantage without my glasses, but I’m not about to break them just so I can see where I’m going.”

“We’re all a little disadvantaged,” Lav calls out. “I’m playing with clothes, and the other two are already worn out from earlier.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Cyrus laughs, then addresses the girls. “You guys ready yet?”

Six and Lav make their way toward the middle of the court, and both they and the other team stand opposite to one another. Three offers to help start everyone off, taking the basketball from Six’s hands and tossing it into the air in the middle of the area. Without hesitation, both Lav and Cyrus reach for the thing, but it’s Lav who grabs a hold of it first. Committed to your role as the scorekeeper, you watch each Number’s movements diligently, keeping a sharp eye out for every play and shot made. The twins each cheer for the teams comprised of their own sexes, but Five merely cheers on her girlfriend while Blue remains completely unamused by the sport. She does, however, give a few claps when someone makes a basket just to be participative. You’re unable to see how Violet’s reacting to the game since she’s just barely out of sight from the corner of your eye, but you’re sure she’s just watching like a hawk.

As you eye the game, you notice that it’s mainly Lav and Cyrus going neck and neck with one another and shooting baskets. Though, even Six manages to put up a good enough fight in grabbing the ball and making shots. Eight, however, seems to lag behind physically speaking. Not only is his reaction time less keen than the other three Numbers without him being able to see properly, but he seems to become easily winded when running across the court to catch up with his teammate.

“Keep up, Eight!” Cyrus laughs at him, tossing the young man the ball. Eight pants and just barely avoids a swipe from Six, shooting the ball into the air only to watch it bounce off the side of the rim.

“Easy for you to say!” Eight continues to pant. “I’m not a goddamned athlete!”

“Neither is Six but she’s doing better than you are!” Lav teases, grabbing the ball and tossing it to Six who runs across the court and shoots her shot into the rim.

“You guys are five to three now!” You call out observantly. Despite how genuinely awful you know you are with numbers, you’re able to keep track of the shots fairly okay. Strangely, picturing your friends while you keep count helps.

“They’re only halfway there?!” Eight seems almost offended as he breathes heavily while getting these words out, but he continues to try playing with the others nonetheless. It seems he is already completely aware of the fact that he and Cyrus aren’t going to win with Eight holding their team back, but you appreciate him still trying and not giving up despite being absolutely sure he would have by now if not for your agreement.

As expected, Six and Lav completely demolish their opposing team, reaching a score of ten before Cyrus and Eight can progress beyond a score of five points. In the midst of the game, Three had gotten up to go somewhere, but she returns once the game is over, carrying water bottles in her arms and now handing them to each player. Though Eight is completely winded, he takes one from her and gives a slight nod, though doesn’t seem well enough to speak yet. Two at first seems hesitant to approach him, but she gives a light smile when he takes the bottle from her before heading back to her brother’s side.

“How the hell do you expect anyone to keep up with you?” Eight gasps between sips as he addresses Lav. The young woman gives a sly wink and a grin.

“Practice,” she says teasingly, repeating Eight’s words from earlier. “You’ll never be as good as me, but maybe you won’t suck so bad if you try.”

“Very funny,” Eight pouts, looking away from Lav as he sips his water more in bitter silence.

“You didn’t do too bad all things considered,” Six laughs. She then fans herself, letting the wafted air hit her skin that’s wet with sweat. “Anyway, I think I’m done here. I’ve been at this a while.”

“Same,” Cyrus remarks, wiping some sweat from his forehead. “I could use a shower. Ladies first, though.”

Both Lav and Six head off to get cleaned up while Eight tussles his hair around to unstick the wet ends from his skin.

“I’ve never gotten this sweaty before,” He notes with disgust in his voice, then turns his head toward Cyrus. “But I’m not about to shower in front of you. I’d rather sit in my filth.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Eight,” Cyrus raises a brow. “Anyway, just turn around or go to another shower. Not a big deal. But do whatever you want, I won’t stop you.”

This, for some reason, makes Two laugh uncontrollably, much to Eight’s disdain.

The girls return after a while, leaving Cyrus and a begrudging Eight to go off and clean themselves up. Evidently, Eight weighed the option of being filthy the rest of the day and being clean if a bit embarrassed, and opted for the latter. You sit around while everyone chats, but after a while you remember you’re holding Eight’s glasses. Out of curiosity, you try them on only to find that Eight’s sight is less awful than Violet’s, but certainly bad. Peering through his frames makes everything look warped and enveloped by some thin veil of blurriness.

“You look almost as nerdy as he does,” Blue snickers as she notices the glasses on your face. “But you don’t look too bad.”

“I certainly see really bad with these on,” You answer jokingly. Not too long after your bit of fun, Eight and Cyrus emerge from the showers and return to everyone. In annoyance, Eight silently plucks the glasses from your face and brings them back to his own, looking down at you with an utterly unamused expression before taking a seat on the floor behind you.

With most everyone regrouped, the Numbers on benches turn around to face the wall while all the players sit on the floor with their backs against the wall’s padding. Cyrus doesn’t immediately rejoin everyone, rather going up to Violet and asking her something that you’re not able to hear from so far away. However, he seems to convince her to come join the group, and so Violet takes a seat silently beside him while still avoiding eye contact with you or anyone else in particular. You notice for just a moment that Blue glances at Violet with a slight sneer, but says nothing about her presence in particular and keeps her feelings to herself.

“So, I’m a little surprised that you were all in the music room earlier,” Six speaks up, wiping away a drop of water that’s started trailing from her hair down her neck. “Eight’s always been known to shoo people away when he’s in there.”

“I prefer my privacy,” Eight answers sharply, folding his arms.

“So why were they in there at all?” Two raises a brow.

“Not important.”

Lav gives a light smirk and refuses to let the grey-clothed young man hide his talents away.

“Eight plays the violin,” she says point blank. Hearing her say this outright makes Eight look at Lav with a severely frustrated scowling expression, but he doesn’t verbally respond to it. “I went looking for Ten in the music room, but I got caught off guard by him playing. He’s pretty good, actually.”

“Wait, seriously?!” Six widens her eyes and grabs Five’s hand with eagerness. “Why didn’t you say anything? That’s actually really cool!”

“He never says anything,” Blue remarks bluntly. “Unless he’s got another insult to throw out or something.”

“Or wants to act all holier-than-thou about how smart he is,” Two chimes in with a loud chuckle. This even makes Cyrus laugh slightly, and seeing the others amused by this teasing of him makes Eight’s face red. He looks away toward the door, but when you see him preparing to rise, you call out to stop him.

“Don’t go!” You beg, making Eight stop where he is to look at you. “Stay, please? They’re just teasing, not trying to be mean.”

“Does that seriously bother you?” Two raises a brow. “We joke around like that all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

“Besides, you kind of have it coming anyway,” adds Blue without any hesitation. She smiles coyly. “You are kind of a jerk, you know.”

Eight gives a light scowl, but Blue merely shrugs in response to him.

“But, if you’re willing to put your feelings aside to be here, I guess we’ll be nice.”

“We’re not actively trying to hurt you, Eight,” Five adds with a light smile. “I hope you can understand.”

“I honestly don’t,” Eight lowers his brows. “But fine.” He proceeds to lean back against the wall again, keeping his arms folded and looking away from everyone.

Despite the light tension from Eight’s reactions to the Numbers’ teasing, everyone manages to calm down again and keep the mood light.

“So like, about the music thing…” Six speaks up again, looking down at the floor as she tries to figure out how to put her words together. “…You wouldn’t happen to be willing to teach music, would you?”

“I’m not a teacher,” Eight answers bluntly. However, Six persists.

“But you can read music, can’t you?”

“Yes.” Eight shrugs. “What of it?”

“Do you think you could teach me and Peaches?” Five requests of the young man, putting a hand on Six’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying to learn how to play music, but we’ve been struggling to get it right. Maybe if we could read the music notes even a little, we’d be able to play better. It would really mean a lot if you could.”

“I just barely got here and you’re already asking me favors,” Eight critically points out with a light furrowing of his eyebrows. “I can see where your priorities lie.”

“Eight…” you warn, frowning.

“Don’t ‘Eight’ me. I said I’d be here, not that I’d be happy about it.”

“Woah, huh?” Blue lowers a brow. “Do you guys have some kind of a pact?”

She grins.

“Are you involved?”

“We’re not anything,” Eight scowls. “Don’t be so fucking presumptuous.”

“It’s not important,” You assure Blue, not wanting to upset Eight by being blunt about what happened between you two, especially with how riled up he already seems to be. “He just owes me, nothing more to it.”

“Anyway, I think it’s fascinating that you like the violin,” Cyrus changes the subject, catching what you’re trying to do. “It suits you.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Eight scrunches his face up, but Cyrus shakes his head.

“It’s a compliment, Eight. The violin has a nice sound. I personally don’t know that much about music. Or philosophy, apparently.”

He almost laughs as he refers to the previous conversation they had the other day.

“How long have you played for?” Three chimes in with curiosity in her eyes. She leans in just slightly, but Eight doesn’t really know how to answer her since he has no idea himself how long he’s actually played.

“I’ve just done it ever since I can remember,” he admits, his expression softer now and his voice a little lower. “I knew how to play already and just honed in on the violin pretty immediately after coming here.”

“But why are you so adamant on hiding it from everyone?” Lav questions with a tilt of her head. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Eight answers sharply, shutting his eyes. “I just don’t feel like anyone else would understand what it means to me or appreciate it the way I do. I didn’t want to have to share.”

Lav refuses to accept this.

“That makes no sense,” she says with a shake of her head. “I love basketball. Nobody could really understand just how much, nor could they ever be at the level I’m at. Even then, I still wanted to share a game with everyone or at least have them around. I even invited you despite knowing you’d hate it because you were nice enough to share something you liked with me. I was just returning the favor.”

“You did also want to see me embarrass myself,” Eight points out with a frown as he re-opens his eyes and glares at Lav. “Which you successfully got to do. Congratulations.”

“Okay, I was only teasing you about that,” she defends herself. “But you’re never gonna look perfect all the time. We make little fuckups and look stupid sometimes, then just move on. But my main point is, you shouldn’t feel hesitant to share your talents or interests with other people because you don’t think they’ll get it.”

“Yeah, I mean I like drawing and stuff around everyone else,” Blue adds with a twirl of her hair around her finger. “Nobody is able to do it like me, but I still appreciate having others around drawing with me.”

“And my brother and I like having people in the theater with us,” Three agrees, giving a light smile.

“You feel about the things you do very differently than I feel about what I do,” Eight refuses to budge. “I prefer to be alone. I prefer to keep my interests to myself where possible. I’ve indulged a few of them before, but music is special to me. I don’t want to give that up. I figured you all would understand since you pride yourselves in being so accepting.”

“We just want you to participate a little more, or at least just be less arrogant,” you tell him honestly. “You’re still one of us. Even if you don’t want to admit it. If you really wanna be by yourself, then okay, we’ll give you space. But you can’t just be a dick about it all the time. You have to be open.”

“Plus, it’s not exactly healthy to isolate yourself,” Cyrus adds, looking at the ground. “Believe me when I say that much.”

“The people who fall from isolation are the people who are too weak to handle it in the first place. It’s no surprise that they eventually crumble,” Eight continues to rebuke all attempts at understanding. However, this statement seems to strike a nerve with Cyrus, as he immediately rises from the bench and scowls at Eight.

“You don’t know anything at all!” He yells out, startling everyone at once. “I’m so, so patient with you, but all you do is undermine everyone without really knowing anything about what’s happened here. You don’t know what I know. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. If you were in my place, if you’d have lived long enough to get to know other Numbers only to watch them disappear, to die, to get sick and tired of living, you wouldn’t be so goddamn resentful of their weaknesses!”

“Wait, Cyrus!” Violet calls out after the frustrated young man as he storms off, getting up to follow him. You’re assuming by everyone’s rather horrified and disturbed expressions that they’ve never seen him blow up this way.

Before Cyrus reaches the gym doors, Eight calls his name, making him and Violet stop in their tracks.

“I’m sorry,” is all Eight says at first, his eyes fixated on the floor and his brows lowered. “I know. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what this means to you. I don’t think I could ever understand what anything means to any of you.”

“That’s hardly an apology,” Cyrus frowns, turning to face his aggressor. However, Eight moves his legs and shifts around in preparation to stand. As he moves toward the door and past Violet to meet with Cyrus, every other Number merely watches with focused eyes, refusing to move from where they are or speak up any further.

“I’m not good at this sentimental shit, alright?” Eight speaks up. “I don’t understand what you feel, and I can’t understand why you feel it. But obviously you have some kind of connection to everyone. You’re compassionate and thoughtful. For as annoying as you can be, you’re noble. You’re wise. I didn’t mean to disrespect that part of you.”

“Don’t be selective and apologize only to me. You disrespect everybody,” Cyrus points out sharply, lowering his brows. “You’re so goddamned stubborn, Eight. But not only are you stubborn, you’re completely unable to resonate with what we call human connection, so much so that even I can’t seem to reach you. Even when I think you’re doing better, you aren’t.”

“I’m of flesh and blood, Cyrus. I can’t be all that inhuman, as convenient as that would be for me,” Eight responds with a raised brow. “I know I’m an asshole. I’m aware of it and use it to my advantage in order to get people away from me because I prefer my space. But I suppose even I’m capable of sympathy, or else I wouldn’t be here. I came because of Ten.”

“And why did you stay?”

Eight shuts his eyes. “I don’t know. But whatever, I’m here. I might as well try to stay. So, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know why you’re sorry?” Cyrus asks while folding his arms.

“I hurt your feelings, not mine,” Eight answers without hesitation. “But I suppose mine aren’t the ones that matter right now. Is that a sufficient answer?”

The blue young man looks at Eight a moment in contemplation, but eventually exhales and almost laughs.

“That’s…a very you answer, Eight.” He then unfolds his arms and sticks one out, slightly bent and angled away from himself with his palm open and awaiting Eight’s. The grey-clothed young man exhales heavily through his nose, but reciprocates Cyrus’ invitation and grabs his hand. Both young men give each other a firm shake before retracting their arms entirely.

“Apology accepted.” Cyrus flashes a light smile to Eight before turning around and heading out the gym doors. Violet, confused but not wanting to be left behind, follows after him and disappears as well. The rest of the Numbers continue to look on at Eight in utter confusion, but are surprised when he turns slightly and gives a light sigh.

“Five, Six,” he speaks up. “I’ll consider teaching you how to read music after all.”

“W-what?” Six stammers, still shaken by whatever it is that just occurred. “You will?”

“Yes. But as a teacher, you’ll respect me and listen to what I tell you,” Eight picks his head up, his eyes fixated on both peach girlfriends. “No gossiping or girlish laughing. Purely professional. And by that, I mean just don’t piss me off. Got it?”

“Sure,” Five smiles. “Thank you, Eight.”

Eight merely scoffs in response, but doesn’t say much else on it. He looks at you then.

“I’m done here. We’re even,” he tells you simply before walking away and exiting the gym.

“What the actual fuck was that about?” Lav seems hopelessly lost. You chuckle slightly, but answer,

“I think Cyrus got to him.”

“Yeah, sure, you see one guy’s dick in a locker room and you’re suddenly best buddies,” Two remarks sarcastically, making Blue howl with laughter. However, his sister remains unamused and lightly smacks her brother’s uninjured arm In a chastising manner.

“What on earth did you say to him when you snapped at him before, Ten?” Five asks with a confused tilt of her head. You merely shrug.

“I don’t know, I just yelled at him. Evidently, he responds to pushiness more than compassion. He came here because of me and Nine, and then he only apologized and backed off when Cyrus snapped himself.”

“Well you three must be some kind of special then,” Blue speaks up. “Because he never got like that with any of us even when we spoke up.”

“I think it’s more because we went specifically after his interests,” Lav laughs. “At least me and Ten did. Dunno about Cyrus.”

“He already respected Cyrus a little,” You point out with a smile. “They talked a bit about philosophy too, which seemed to make Eight think even better of him. Maybe that helped him see the consequences of his words more.”

“I’ve never seen Cyrus get mad like that,” Lav chimes in with surprise. “He’s always been really relaxed about things, or at least tries to present himself that way. I wonder what set him off.”

Two and Three look at one another with worried eyes, but it’s Three who chimes in to suggest a reason.

“My brother and I haven’t been here as long as him, but we did know a lot of the other Numbers before you all.” She says. “Cyrus really did care about them. Plus, Jade…”

She trails off as the name escapes her lips, not wanting to have to talk about the girl herself. However, she allows her twin brother to continue speaking about Jade in her stead.

“Most of us know how she was before,” he tells Lav. “You and Eight weren’t around to watch her fall that hard. I don't even think Violet got to see it happen entirely, or at least she might not have paid attention. Jade used to be really happy and nice.”

“I guess Eight didn’t realize he was being a dick about her,” Lav supposes. “Then again, if he really respected Cyrus, he wouldn’t have said what he did. I’m glad he at least apologized. Obviously he cares a little.”

She then sighs.

“Anyway, I figured Jade wasn’t okay when I met her, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t get to know her that terribly long anyway. Neither did Eight.”

“It’s okay,” Three tries to smile. “I’m sure it might have been hard to approach her if you didn’t know her before. I don’t blame you for it. But…Eight could have been a little more considerate.”

Everything goes quiet after this statement, and you can tell the Numbers want to move on from this topic. Six is the first to try switching gears back to an earlier topic.

“Do you think he’s gonna actually be all friendly with us now?” She ponders the idea.

Blue shrugs, finally chiming in despite remaining absolutely silent during the previous exchange. You’re not sure if she didn’t want to have to reminisce, or if she just didn’t know what to add.

“Probably not right away,” she says. “But this is progress, I guess. It’s awkward as hell, but I never thought he’d actually be a part of our group.”

You smile at this idea, glad at the possibility of Eight opening up more even if only bit by bit. You hope he can be a little more compassionate as well.

For the rest of the day, you stay in the gym with the others, chatting about this and that. You’re finally able to explain to Lav and everyone else what happened between you and Eight, though leave out a few specific details so as not to completely invade the sanctity of privacy between the both of you.

Despite the rockiness of today, it admittedly did make you feel far better in the long run. You almost regret that the day has to end, but know that you’ll eventually have to return to Yosuke. For now, though, you’re able to forget about him and the other doctors completely, able to feel at peace with the other Numbers for just a little while longer.

Chapter 40: Visit Nineteen - Miss

Returning back to your room and sliding into your bed almost felt like a dream to you yesterday. When you finally open your eyes, you’re not sure it wasn’t with how foggy things are. Your head is a bit muddled as you slowly awaken from your slumber, but when your eyes finally adjust to the bright lights, you realize you’re again in your main examination room, laying atop your bed which is currently angled as it’s been several times before. You’re almost completely sitting up because of the tilt, but you’re still fairly comfortable all things considered.

Luckily, you feel no restraints of any kind on your limbs or body, so you’re freely able to rub your eyes. However, you’re caught off guard by the strange feeling of slightly puffed sleeves on your shoulders, and when you finally examine yourself, you realize you’re dressed very differently than usual. On your torso is a thin white shirt with a collar that extends up to the neck. It’s tight in the chest with small black buttons, but puffed at the sleeves which are just long enough to cover your shoulders. Unexpectedly, you can also feel a bra underneath your shirt. You hadn’t expected to be dressed in one ever, having grown accustomed to not wearing one at all. It’s a bit tight and hugs at your breasts, even lifting them. When you put your hand over your chest to feel through the thin fabric of your shirt, you realize that the thing is even lacy. Feeling it reminds you of Mom, despite how little you’d like to think of her right now. The idea of wearing the same kind of clothes as her doesn’t particularly excite you.

Over your shirt, you feel a corset hugging your body. It’s placed and starts just under your chest. Much to your dismay, the garment greatly accentuates the curvature of your breasts, but you admit that it looks nice. The corset is actually affixed to a wide, lacy skirt that’s black in color. The hem hangs just at your knees, with the rest of your legs completely bare except for some black flat shoes on your feet. This strikes you as highly unusual—you’ve not worn shoes of any kind since you arrived at the facility, and this is the first time you’ve ever really felt any kind of clothing on your feet.

More unusual than your clothing is that the room around you seems to be void of people. You’re in fact completely alone, unrestricted and unsupervised. You swing your legs off the side of the bed then, standing up and almost falling over at the strangeness of feeling a surface on your feet that isn’t the cold hard facility floor. However, you examine your corset dress more closely now and spin around in the thing, almost enjoying how it looks on you despite knowing that it’s likely just a garment meant to fetishize you.

Your heart suddenly jumps as you hear the room door slide open, and when you whip yourself around to face it, you see Jonathan standing there with a sweet smile on his face. He seems to be wearing a different set of clothes as well, dressed in something of a black suit with a matching coat and set of slacks. His coat is closed, but underneath it you can see a grey vest followed by a white dress shirt. Upon his neck is some kind of loose bowtie, and both of his hands are covered with sleek white gloves that hide under his sleeves.

“Oh Miss, you’re awake!” Jonathan seems to be surprised, but gives a gentle smile. You’re not entirely sure what role he’s trying to play, but assume it’s another servile one. It weirds you out how much he likes to play this role, but thinking of this suddenly makes you realize Nathaniel isn’t present.

“…Where’s the other one?” You ask hesitantly, referring to the man. “You’re usually together.”

“He’s a bit occupied, I’m afraid,” Jonathan answers you honestly. “He’s always such a busy man. He’s asked me to watch over you while he’s away, Miss.”

“I see.” You look down. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Anything you like, Miss,” Jonathan continues to smile. “I’m yours for today.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you pick your head up. “Mine…?”

“Yes, Miss. I’ve been asked to service you,” Jonathan explains, stepping toward you. He kneels before you and takes your hand gently in his, making you blush. “You can tell me to do anything you like, so long as it’s within this room. My master was fairly clear about that. He’d prefer it if you stayed here.”

“He won’t come back, will he?” You pull away from his gentle grasp and raise both hands to each forearm, gripping them firmly. Feeling Jonathan’s touch flusters you. With a reaction like this to just him, you’re not really sure you want to suddenly have Nathaniel show up in the middle of whatever it is Jonathan wants to do with you.

“No, Miss,” he simply replies, still kneeling before you. “It’ll just be us for a while.”

This comes somewhat to your relief, though you remain in discomfort at whatever’s happening now. Jonathan then stands up and places his hands by his side.

“What would you like me to do?”

This question makes you uneasy. You’re not sure how to handle being in charge, even if it’s all mostly a façade. You’re sure Jonathan won’t let you leave without doing something to you, but you wonder how far you can push avoiding the inevitable.

“I’d like to just stand here and do nothing,” You pout, avoiding his warm gaze.

“If Miss likes,” Jonathan’s smile remains unwavering. However, with the silence now filling the room, you start to grow utterly uncomfortable. You’re not exactly sure what to do other than quite literally stand there and stay silent. Having Jonathan remain motionless while looking on at you doesn’t help in the least. You eventually give a light, frustrated groan and shake your head.

“This is weird. I can’t do this,” You tell him as yourself, moving a hand to your forehead now. “I’m really not used to being given a choice. I guess that must be funny to hear knowing how much I fight everyone.”

“It’s alright if you’re afraid, Miss,” Jonathan chuckles gently, almost boyishly while taking your other hand in his and stepping closer to you. Despite not playing a character of your own now, Jonathan refuses to break his. “I’ll do anything you want me to, even if you’d just like to stand here.”

You blush and avoid his amber gaze from behind his glasses, but the heat of his body now that it’s so close makes you even woozier.

“Standing here is just going to make it awkward,” You admit, your face growing red. “I-I don’t know. I feel strange asking for something.”

“I only want to take good care of you, Miss,” Jonathan assures you with a smile. “Please, don’t be afraid. It’ll stay between us, I promise.”

You look at him then, remembering your doctor promising the same to you the day you two had what you could loosely call consensual sex. You wonder if this is Jonathan’s way of telling you he won’t tell anyone what you asked for, but you’re not wholly sure. Still, a part of you trusts him to at least not to be wholly shitty to you even though you’re aware he’s still a doctor. Though he and Nathaniel have always lorded over your body, they’ve admittedly been gentle with you more than any of the other doctors, even yours when he chooses to be gentle. You dislike having to admit you don’t wholly hate being with the two, but suppose this helps make it less frustrating to deal with them. At the very least, you’re sure Jonathan won’t hurt you.

“Okay,” you speak with a low voice, almost defeatedly. You’re still wholly unsure on how this is supposed to go or whether you really even want to openly say you want something from your visitor, but you try nonetheless. “But please be patient with me.”

“Of course,” Jonathan promises, still holding your hand.

“C-could you kiss me?” You request of him, looking up into his eyes. “Like you love me. Not forcefully or in a dirty way. I want to feel cherished. Even if it is by a doctor.”

Jonathan laughs gently.

“Of course, Miss,” he answers sweetly. “If that’s what you’d like.”

Is it?

Jonathan wraps an arm around your waist and gently moves your body closer to his. The heat of it makes you blush more, and you find yourself holding onto Jonathan’s chest as you’re pressed against him. He then takes his other hand and softly grips your chin, tilting your head upward so he can move in to press his lips warmly against yours. As you asked, Jonathan takes his time working your lips, moving around them softly and not forcing his tongue down your throat or pressing against you too hard. He occasionally pulls back only to move back in to suck against your lips, pecking endearingly at them while your face grows even redder. You can’t help but moan slightly at how Jonathan kisses you, your hands balling against his chest and your knees feeling weak with how gently and lovingly he’s going about it. You hadn’t expected to get exactly what you asked for, but being kissed this way makes you melt in Jonathan’s arms utterly.

“M-my neck,” you ask next, still slightly embarrassed to be open about what you want with a doctor but feeling too good to stop yourself now. Jonathan simply smiles.

“Yes, Miss,” he obliges you while moving his lips onto your neck next. The sensation of his warmth upon your skin makes you whimper slightly, and you end up leaning more into Jonathan while he continues to kiss the area you requested him to. In the midst of his kisses, he gives a few loving moans of his own, making you feel even more woozy and weak. You shut your legs tightly at the feeling of being fawned over this way, wanting more by this point but too afraid to admit it.

“C…could you lick my ears as well?” You ask sheepishly. You refuse to make it known that you’ve grown accustomed to this practice because of Yosuke, but you do admittedly enjoy the sensation of it even if you don’t want him to know that. Since your doctor isn’t here, though, you feel less guilty about asking for it. So long as you don’t let on why you want it, you assume you’ll be fine.

“At once, Miss,” Jonathan breathes, moving in to lick at your ears. He does It far differently than your doctor, yet in such a way that’s so gentle and sweet that you wholly enjoy it. Feeling Jonathan’s tongue against your ears makes you whimper and moan more. In response to this, Jonathan drops his free hand and wraps it around you, holding your head gently while he continues to lick and suck at your ear. After a while of this, he finally pulls his head away and looks at your blushing face with a sweet smile. You hadn’t realized that you started breathing so heavily, but when all the sensations of his touch stop, you notice it quite clearly. With how woozy you feel, you almost fall to the floor, but Jonathan catches you and begins to look worried.

“Oh dear. Are you alright Miss?” He asks kindly. “Perhaps I’d better sit you down.”

Without being able to respond, you suddenly feel Jonathan pick you up in his arms, surprised that he’s stronger than he looks despite knowing this already from your first visit with him and Jonathan. You gasp slightly as he holds you, and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself steady. You blush thinking of your own doctor holding you this way, but try to stay concentrated on your current visit.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” Jonathan laughs livelily as he senses your flustered state. “I’ll take care of you.”

He seats you on the side of the bed, and you put both your hands in your lap, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down nervously while pressing your legs together. Jonathan then kneels down to remove your flat shoes one by one, gently cusping each ankle in one gloved hand as he slides each shoe away with the other. Holding your right foot, he hesitates a moment, but then leans in to kiss it. The unexpected sensation makes you gasp lightly and pull away.

“W-what are you doing?” You question him with embarrassment. Jonathan merely smiles.

“My apologies, Miss,” he says, dropping your foot and standing back up. “I couldn’t resist it.”

He then removes one of his gloves and presses the back of his hand against your cheek, then forehead.

“Oh, Miss, you’re very warm,” he notes with a light frown. “Perhaps you’d better lay down now.”

“I feel fine,” you refuse, blushing while still keeping your legs pressed tightly together. This is somewhat of a lie. You feel too embarrassed to admit openly to him that you’re turned on from the earlier activity.

“I insist, Miss,” Jonathan beseeches you as he re-gloves his hand. “At the very least, we should let you get some air.”

He puts a hand under your chin and sweetly guides you to face him.

“It’ll be alright, Miss. I promise.”

You feel your cheeks growing red again at his words, but eventually give into him and nod quietly, allowing your servant to do what he thinks is best for you. Gently, he unbuttons your shirt and undoes your corset, opening each article of clothing to completely expose your breasts with the lacy bra on them. The cool air hits your warm skin then, though it feels a little refreshing. Embarrassed, you avoid Jonathan’s endearing gaze as he continues to spread the cloth open to completely free your torso, though the skirt remains in place. Hesitantly, you lie back on the tilted bed and clutch your arms, feeling strangely more exposed now despite not being entirely naked.

“Is that better, Miss?” Jonathan asks sweetly, putting a hand to your cheek. You continue to blush, but say nothing in response. Sensing your hesitancy, your servant coaxes you again. “Would you like me to do something else?”

“I…” You shut your eyes. “I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“That’s alright. I want only to please my Miss,” the young man assures you kindly, petting your head. Hearing this makes the wooziness in your body grow. You don’t want to have to admit you’re rather horny now, but you don’t think you can stand to just lie there either.

“Y-your fingers, maybe?” You ask with embarrassment in your voice, still avoiding Jonathan’s gaze. Your servant merely giggles lightly, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“As Miss likes,” he says before pulling away entirely and moving to the foot of the bed. Since he had only undone the top half of your clothes, your skirt is still placed delicately over your legs. So, Jonathan pulls it up by the hem and exposes your lower body. You gasp as you feel his gloved hands sweetly spread your legs, whimpering as his fingers slide delicately along your slit from behind your panties, gliding up and down it playfully.

“Miss, you’re so wet already,” Jonathan chuckles with a sweetness to his voice. “How lovely. Now please lie back and let me do as told. I’ll be sure to pleasure you just as you like.”

With one hand, Jonathan rubs delicately along your left thigh, making your body shiver in anticipation for his fingers. Your servant merely keeps his amber eyes warmly fixated on you as he brings his other hand to his lips and removes his glove with his teeth, pulling at the fingertips until his hand is completely bare. He places his glove delicately aside and moves in to pull your panties away, temporarily removing the one gloved hand from your thighs to do so. Once they’re off, he returns to his previous task and uses his bare hand to start stimulating your clit, making sure to be gentle and careful with it.

“Is this comfortable, Miss?” He asks sweetly as he watches you start to squirm around where you are. You want to enjoy the pleasure, but you also feel wrong giving into it all the same. However, you merely give Jonathan a simple “yes” as you continue to let him tease you. After a while of this, Jonathan moves away from the foot of the bed and instead comes toward your side, reaching over with his bare hand to keep stimulating you. He leans into you, steadying himself with his other hand on the bed while moving toward your face.

“Will it help if I kiss you, Miss?” He asks sweetly. Although you feel awkward being asked this way, you agree to let him do so. Without another word, Jonathan presses warmly against your lips, closing his eyes while you let him take you. Pleasure begins to build up in you the more he stimulates your clit, and this is only heightened immensely when he starts to press his fingers into your wet pussy. He continues to try stimulating you with his thumb, but otherwise begins to slowly thrust and curl his fingers inside of you. Since his face is atop yours, you weren’t able to see him do this. Feeling his fingers inside you now causes you to whimper with pleasure as a result. Feeling the young man’s digits curling and sliding inside of you makes it hard to control yourself. Your hands grip the sheets of the bed tightly as you let your pleasure build, and you start moaning into Jonathan’s mouth as he takes you gently.

“You feel good against my fingers, Miss,” Jonathan breathes between kisses, giggling sweetly as he hears you moan more in response. He picks up his pace playfully then and watches with infatuation as you wriggle around helplessly, turning your head away and starting to gasp and whimper. Eagerly, Jonathan moves in to kiss your neck, adding to your pleasure even more until you can’t take it any longer. With one big heave, you finally reach your climax and start to come, your pussy desperately sucking in Jonathan’s fingers as you do. Jonathan goes a bit more quickly with his fingers as you cum, but keeps at a steady rhythm otherwise so that you can ride out your climax. After a while of this, your pleasure soon subsides, and you are able to relax again. You pant lightly as you lay on the bed in your juices, but notice that Jonathan is now blushing heavily as he watches you.

“You come so beautifully,” he compliments you, though these words only bring embarrassment. However, he persists. “How else can I service you, Miss?”

You’re not sure what more to make him do, but admittedly are still eager for more pleasure. It takes a moment for you to really think, but you eventually answer him,

“Use your tongue, please.” You’re not sure you need to even use polite words, but for some reason can’t bring yourself not to do so with him.

“Of course,” Jonathan smiles, though he moves into your ears and begins to lick them for a bit, much to your surprise.

“I-I didn’t mean…!” You cry at the sudden pleasurable sensation. However, Jonathan pulls away slightly and chuckles.

“My apologies, Miss,” he says simply. “I know what you mean, but I wanted to make it special for you before I get there. I am here to please you, after all. I only want to make sure I do it well.”

He continues to run his tongue along your ear, but then moves down to lick your neck sweetly, making you whimper. Slowly, he moves his head down your body, licking different areas delicately while trailing his hands down your sides in unison. After working your neck, Jonathan then moves to your breasts. For a moment, he laps at the skin around them, groping each one in between his tonguing. However, he eventually moves on to your stomach, where he lingers solely to kiss it playfully.

Jonathan eventually reaches your crotch, moving now to the foot of the bed and leaning forward to reach you. He then begins to rub your outer thighs while kissing the innermost parts of them. Once he’s finished teasing you, Jonathan looks up to see your chest rising and falling sharply as you breathe in and out eagerly, anticipant of his tongue. Without waiting a moment longer, your servant begins to lick lovingly at your clit, pressing his palms against each inner thigh to keep you spread open. You gasp at the warmth of his tongue, moaning with each lapping it gives you.

Jonathan doesn’t once bother to enter your pussy with his tongue or fingers, instead solely focusing on your clit the entire time. He uses a variety of motions, going slowly at first but soon flicking his tongue around more rapidly after a while. You reach your hands down without knowing why, pressing against Jonathan’s scalp eagerly and digging your fingers in his hair as you endure his licking. He occasionally gives a few moans and breaths of his own, but primarily stays fixated on your clit as he continues to tongue at it enthusiastically.

You try to squirm your legs around instinctively, but Jonathan does well to keep you in place as he pleasures you. The longer you endure him, the more you press your head back against your pillow while gasping and whimpering. Your hands again curl around the sheets beneath you as your body responds eagerly to Jonathan’s touch, your hips beginning to grind up against him as you feel yourself ready to come again. Without trying to fight it, you let yourself buck your body eagerly against Jonathan’s face, crying out girlishly with pleasure as you climax. Jonathan helps you finish up and continues to tongue your clit until you finally do, all the while letting a few groans slip past your lips.

Once you’ve finally finished, Jonathan pulls away from your clit and smiles sweetly at you.

“You sound lovely when you come, Miss,” he compliments you more. You notice that he’s heaving his breath and blushing wildly like before. “If it’s not too much to ask, may I please use my body to pleasure you? You’ve made me quite excited, Miss. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Hearing Jonathan ask you this way makes you blush, but you’re still aroused and don’t exactly refuse him.

“Y…yes,” you permit, closing your eyes. “It’s alright.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan says with a lively tone. “I’ll do my best for you, Miss.”

Your legs begin to tremble as you feel Jonathan climbing atop the bed and hear him unzipping his pants, but you don’t open your eyes until you suddenly feel his hands raising your legs up so that they bend at the knee, with your feet pressing into the mattress. Once Jonathan has you in the position he wants, he begins to lean in and hover over you. To your surprise, he’s removed his glasses and placed them elsewhere on the bed, and you’re now faced with his amber gaze more closely than before. Jonathan then leans in to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll take good care of you, Miss,” He says sweetly with a smile. “Please enjoy me thoroughly.”

You gasp lightly as you feel Jonathan’s cock pressing its way slowly into your wet pussy. As promised, he takes it slow with you, going gently into your body and lightly rubbing against you when he’s fully inside. You moan at the sensation of his sex inside of you, throwing your head back and gasping as Jonathan begins to pull out and push back in delicately.

“Is this alright, Miss?” He asks as he watches your body respond to his.

“Y-yes…” you whimper, feeling your face hot with warmth as Jonathan continues to sweetly thrust against you. He then leans in to kiss your lips again, giving long, slow sucks while moaning pleasurably into you. After a while of going slowly, Jonathan soon begins to pick up his pace to a steadier rhythm, gasping as he takes you, and as the walls of your vagina press against his cock eagerly.

“Miss, you’re so warm…!” Jonathan croons, giving you another kiss. “You feel so darling!”

You blush more as you hear the steady wet sounds of thrusts with each pump of Jonathan’s dick inside of you.

“May I go faster, Miss?” Jonathan sweetly begs, kissing your neck. “Please?”

You say nothing, but rather nod as another whimper escapes your lips. With this permission, Jonathan then begins to thrust faster into you, his moans and gasps becoming louder now as he feels pure pleasure inside of your body. He continues to lean in and kiss you, and the more you endure his quickened thrusts, the more you want to feel Jonathan’s cum inside you. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and grip him tightly while you’re ridden, giving loud cries now the more you feel Jonathan’s cock pressing in and pulling out of your pussy. After a while, your servant speaks up between his panting,

“I’m going to come soon, Miss. May I?”

This question embarrasses you, but you nod. In response, Jonathan gives you a quick, wet kiss on your mouth before thrusting more and more into you to reach his climax. You find yourself giving into Jonathan entirely, letting out pants and grunts in rhythm to his pumps. In moments, the both of you climax together, but Jonathan places his lips again against yours to keep you quiet while he spurts his warm cum inside of you, filling your cunt with it readily. He continues to buck against you as he finishes up while moaning adoringly into your mouth, though goes more slowly now and with wider, more loving strides. You clench your hands on his back as you finish up as well, reciprocating his thrusts eagerly until your pleasure subsides.

“Oh Miss…” Jonathan murmurs as he pulls away from your lips. He runs a hand along your cheek and smiles warmly. “You’re so precious, my Miss…”

He doesn’t pull out of you yet, however. He instead leans in to beg you for more.

“May I please come some more, Miss?” He breathes, kissing your neck relentlessly. “Please, please? I want to give my Miss more of my love. I promise I’ll be good to you.”

“That’s too much!” You blush as Jonathan begins to kiss your ear again while he continues to moan and beg for more. You end up shutting your eyes and turning your head away while continuing to endure Jonathan’s begging kisses, blushing wildly as he pleads.

“Oh please, Miss?” He persists, rubbing his hands along your sides. “You’re so very darling, I only want to please you. Please let me come, Miss.”

He gives your ear another lick, making you whimper and again clench your hands over his back.

“O…okay,” you give in, your body trembling. “Just please be gentle like before, alright?”

“Yes, Miss,” Jonathan happily obliges with a light voice, smiling eagerly at you. “Thank you!”

He kisses your cheek, then proceeds to move his hands toward his pants to pull them down just a bit more so that he can more easily thrust into you again. He continues to pump inside of your pussy afterward, his skin loudly and wetly slapping against yours as your body openly lets him in. Jonathan never really pulled out to begin with, but you don’t feel discomforted feeling him continue to fuck you. As he does so, you continue to hold onto him desperately, groaning as you take more of his thrusts.

“J-Jonathan!” You yelp, tightening your grasp around his neck as he begins to go faster without warning you. However, your servant merely laughs lightly between his panting.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss,” he breathes. “You just feel so good! Should I stop?”

You groan loudly as his pace quickens, but ultimately find that it brings you pleasure more than it really offends you.

“N-no,” you gasp. “It’s…fine!”

You’re not entirely sure if it is, but you can’t bring yourself to stop it now.

Jonathan giggles and gives your lips another wet, moaning kiss before focusing heavily on his fast, long strides. He pants heavily atop you, breathing into your face while he begins to sweat just slightly. As he does, you can smell his familiar, somewhat spiced odor more strongly as it wafts into the air.

Jonathan continues to pump in and out, in and out of your body. Each thrust produces loud slapping sounds that echo throughout the room. Hearing your servant’s boyish, loving moans only makes your pleasure stronger, and after a while of being thrust against, you start to feel yourself letting go. Almost as if sensing this, your servant begins to moan more loudly, indicating to you that he’s almost reached his peak.

“Miss, may I please come inside of you now?” He begs you darlingly, breathily kissing your cheek. “I’m almost there. Oh, please, Miss!”

You’re too enamored with pleasure to respond, but you end up clutching Jonathan tighter as he rides you. In response to his question, you gasp and pant more, and start to reciprocate Jonathan’s thrusts, bucking your hips against him with the desire to come. After a while of you two grinding against one another, you finally start to release and let out a loud wail, your body shivering and your head being thrown back as you come. Jonathan in turn continues to pump into you until he gives one hearty grunt and pumps his cum into you once more. In his ecstasy, he takes an arm and wraps it around you, holding your torso close to him as he continues to thrust more slowly into you. After a moment, his grunts turn to heavy breaths, and his pace slows more and more until Jonathan stops completely. When the both of you finally settle down, you merely lie there with a wave of grogginess washing over you. Though, you’re not wholly exhausted like you usually are after an encounter. Merely, you feel warm and dizzy.

Jonathan continues to kiss you, though he finally breaks his role to indicate that he’s done with your visit.

“As ever, you were a delight,” He laughs gently between his recovering breaths. “Ten, you’re doing so well with these visits. Maybe with more practice, you can play your roles with even more ease.”

You blush as he continues to kiss you, feeling so lost in your comfort that you’re almost disappointed when he finally stops. Slowly, Jonathan pulls himself out of your body and moves off of the bed, then grabs his glasses and puts them back on. Dissatisfied with your flesh being open to the air now despite it having felt good earlier, you loosely re-dress your torso and move your skirt back down over your legs. As you do, Jonathan moves to one of the cabinets to grab a towel and clean himself off of his sweat and both your juices.

When you’ve been clothed again, you sit up further and try to breathe in recovery from your visit. You end up holding your arms again, your sheepishness and hesitancy returning now that you’ve completely come down from your pleasure. After a moment, you hear Jonathan pull and zip his pants back up before eventually stepping toward a different set of cabinets behind you.

“Is Nathaniel really busy?” You ask curiously, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and sitting there. Your crotch is extremely wet, making this task feel slippery, much to your embarrassment.

“Yes,” Jonathan answers while he fishes for something. Now that you can see him from where you are, it’s strange to watch him act normally while still dressed as some kind of a servant. “He and I aren’t always together, but we still like to have our fun each time we have to do separate visits. We love doing this.”

“Doing what…?”

“Playing a role,” the young man laughs. He suddenly starts to sound disappointed when he fails to find what he’s looking form mumbling to himself about it. “Hm, it seems they forgot to restock the anesthetic in this room. Unless somebody took it because they were out in their room and didn’t bother to say anything.”

“Why not just leave and let me pass out like everyone else?” You raise a brow, supposing he meant to inject you with the drug again.

“I prefer to do this and lull my guests to sleep at times,” Jonathan answers honestly as he continues to mindlessly shuffle through the cabinet shelves, likely to double-check that the drug hasn’t just been misplaced. “I don’t always, and neither does Nathaniel. But injections let us have a little extra time with our guests without having to stay too long and waste time when we might have other things to do. For the gas, we have to leave the room entirely. But that leaves little room for aftercare.”

He pauses a moment and turns his head to you, smiling.

“Why do you ask? Don’t you enjoy spending time with me?”

You refuse to answer, glowering slightly. Jonathan then turns back to his hunt until he seems pleased by a different find. You hear him give a light, eager “ah!” and pull something out from the cabinets that you can’t quite see with him in the way. Promptly after, the sounds of liquid pouring against plastic fills the room. To your surprise, Jonathan returns to your side with a small clear cup of some kind of almost translucent fluid, though you can see just a tinge of green color to it, one so faint that you almost don’t notice it at all. Seeing this, however, makes you extremely nervous.

“W-what is that?” You ask, tightening your grip on your arms. “I don’t want it!”

“Ten, please don’t panic,” Jonathan frowns, his brows upturning. He seems genuinely concerned. “It’s only a different form of the drug. Please drink it. I don’t want to have to force you to.”

You widen your eyes slightly at this light threat, but take the cup shakily in your hand as instructed anyway. You bring it to your face and smell its contents, noting that the liquid has no odor. Safely assessing that it isn’t alcohol, you feel only a little better about the substance. However, it still seems strange to you.

“I didn’t know they had that drug in this form,” you remark, your shaky hands slowly stabilizing. Although you hesitate, you finally take the liquid into your mouth. It’s strangely as tasteless as it is odorless. Perhaps this isn’t too unusual given that you can’t really smell the gaseous form of the drug at all when it’s used.

“We have it in just a few forms,” Jonathan responds, the cheeriness in his voice strangely still present. “The gaseous and injectable liquid form are more commonly used, though the direct injection is often more effective because it’s put directly into the body via a vein. I don’t suppose you’d notice, but it takes more time for the gas to work. However, the consumable liquid form takes the longest to work and is the least effective, but we still use it when we need to. I’ve not had to use it in a while, actually. But I suppose today’s an exception. I do have things to get done, but if this is the option I’m left with, I guess I don’t mind.”

“I’m shocked nobody ever bothered to use this,” you muse, moving your tongue around in your mouth after saying this. There’s no aftertaste to the drug either, it seems.

“Like I said, we don’t usually,” Jonathan points out. “But we stock it just in case. It’s way easier to use a low dose of the injectable form or a high dose of the gaseous form than it is to use the ingestible, or potable form of the drug. It takes too long to work, though it does produce the same effect. The dosage is strangely never really the same either. Several milliliters of the drug in a syringe seems to be far more potent than a good spoonful of it in a cup. And even if the measurement turns out to be the same, the liquid form metabolizes far slower and works later than it does when the drug is put directly into the veins.”

“Medicine is weird,” you mumble, looking away.

“Really weird,” Jonathan sighs in agreement. “But I’m not much of an expert in pharmaceutics. I know more about the human body than I do medicine. That’s more the specialty of others, certainly not me.”

Your eyes shift again to Jonathan in confusion. “But, isn’t this a pharmaceutical facility?”

Your visitor looks at you with slightly wide eyes, pausing as if taken aback by your question. However, he soon smiles again.

“I suppose Yosuke told you that?” He laughs. “In a sense, yes. He wasn’t lying when he said that kind of work is done here. But that’s not important for you to dwell on anyway.”

“Why are you all so secretive of this place?” You pout. “I don’t understand what’s so important that it has to be kept under wraps. It’s not like we’re going anywhere to tell the world about you. You wouldn’t let us anyway.”

Jonathan chuckles.

“It’s what my boss prefers,” he says simply. “He doesn’t want you knowing certain things. His reasons aren’t always clear, but we do what he asks when we have to. Admittedly information has slipped through the cracks here and there because some doctors babble a bit more than they should, but it’s largely harmless from what I’ve noticed. Of course, I’d never go out of my way to blab about things I shouldn’t just because I don’t personally take offense to our guests knowing things. I still know my place here.”

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

Jonathan tilts his head.

“Does what bother me?”

“I don’t know, all these rules and restrictions,” you suppose. “If it’s women you want, you could easily be with any one if you’re so popular with them here. Maybe even men. I don’t see why you have to be a part of this.”

“Everyone has their reasons,” is all the doctor tells you with a casual smile. “Besides, I still do a job here and I still get paid. It’s a living. Going out and dating would be fine and dandy, but it’s not exactly profitable. Plus, I’m happy here.”

You frown. “I’m assuming Nathaniel would say the same?”

“Naturally,” Jonathan gives a laugh. “We’re close, he and I.”

“Close as in…dating?”

This makes the doctor shrug.

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily,” he answers without hesitation. “Not to say he’s not a good man. But we’ve always had a very casual partnership. We’ve been close for a long time and have worked together for a long time. We enjoy working together even here.”

“And what about the whole acting thing? Where does that come from?” You question with a lowering of your brow. Jonathan merely looks up in contemplation.

“I’m not sure exactly where it began,” he muses. “We’ve always been entertained by it. We like the variety it brings to the bedroom, and it gives us a chance to have a little fun playing a role. We like our medical work, but even doctors have hobbies, Ten.”

Jonathan stops a moment to fold his arms.

“I actually used to enjoy things like the theater when I was much younger, but I’d never really thought of myself much as an actor. I’d always let Nathaniel take the lead in that front. But he wanted me to try it myself, so I eventually did. I won’t say I’m any good, but I’m certainly better than I used to be.”

He chuckles.

“Besides, our guests seem very receptive to it nonetheless. I’d assume that means I’m doing something right. You did enjoy me, didn’t you?”

You don’t really respond to this question, both in embarrassment and in being distracted by his earlier statements. You find it strange to hear Jonathan talking casually about himself and Nathaniel. You struggle to wrap your head around the concept that they live some kind of lives beyond the facility, or rather that they once did. You wonder what everyone was like before all this. Could they have been better people in another life, had they not ever come to the facility? A part of you wants to say no, of course not. But you’re not sure.

You don’t know if you believe in second chances, even if they were to transcend realities. Were you to suddenly meet another version of the doctors from a reality where they’re actually nice and sane people, you would be hard-pressed to accept them after everything they’ve put you through here.

In your thoughts, you let a long silence slip between the both of you. Jonathan doesn’t seem to mind this, but you eventually grow uncomfortable without having anything else to say. You’re none too pleased now after discussing the sexual interests of your visitor, so you decide to change the topic.

“Jonathan?”

“Yes?” The thin-bodied doctor looks at you with curiosity in his amber eyes.

“Can you promise me you won’t tell Yosuke what I asked for?” You somewhat beg, looking up at the man before you desperately. “I…I don’t want him to hear about it.”

“Are you ashamed, Ten?” Jonathan gently laughs with amusement. “There’s no need to be ashamed of what you like. In fact, it helps those of us who actually care about you cater to your interests.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for instance, Nathaniel and I like to structure our little roles around each Number’s interests. If they don’t make it apparent, we figure it out with time.”

You widen your eyes. “So, everything you’ve done with me…?”

“It’s been especially for you,” Jonathan smiles, finishing your statement. “Though like I mentioned, many of the guests here really like this kind of stuff, so it’s not too hard to interchange between you all. This is mostly true of the girls, but it’s even applicable to some of the boys, with some tweaking. If your interests ever change, so will our little games of pretend. We really do adore all the Numbers, Ten. Even someone like Eight, for as stubborn as he can be.”

You blush, not able to comprehend either doctor in roles suitable to someone like Eight. You’ve only ever seen them as gentlemen, in a manner of speaking. You can’t at all imagine them in rougher roles, if they ever have to play them with more stubborn people. Despite this strange news, however, you remain focused on your earlier question.

“So…you won’t tell him, right?”

Jonathan looks at you a moment with his amber eyes and smiles yet again.

“Of course,” he promises sweetly, unfolding his arms and moving a hand to lift your chin delicately. “I’ll keep it between us, just for you little doll.”

Feeling his touch again makes you woozy like before, or at least you think it’s from his touch. You suddenly realize the drug is starting to hit you ever so slowly.

“Please don’t call me that,” you mutter, looking away. “I don’t like all these pet names you doctors give me.”

“I think you do,” Jonathan responds teasingly. “Yosuke uses them often, doesn’t he? He’s mentioned you’re very receptive to them.”

This statement causes you to glower slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’ll be seeing him in a little bit anyway,” your visitor points out with a raise of his brow. He then releases your chin. “You really have no choice but to rely on your doctor, since he’s your caretaker and all. You can’t really forget about him.”

“I wish I could,” you frown, blushing as you think of your doctor. “You don’t know what it’s like to be here, as a Number. You never could. All you get to see of us is when we’re locked in these rooms with you. You don’t know how we feel unless we tell you, but even then, we keep it from you because we’re afraid of what you might do to us. Even if some of the Numbers are okay with letting go and being open, that doesn’t mean all of us are.”

“I understand that it must be hard,” Jonathan croons. “But believe me, Nathaniel and I do our best to make it fun. For us, of course, but even for you as well. We enjoy being here, and we want you all to be comfortable with us. But we do still have to abide by the rules and be firm with you where necessary.”

You want to protest in response to these words, but your head starts to feel even groggier now, and you soon can’t even keep your body up. You fall slightly forward, but Jonathan catches you by your shoulders.

“Perhaps you’d better lie down, miss,” he teases you, mimicking his earlier character. You’re unable to really respond to this as your mind remains focused on your deteriorating state of consciousness. Gently, Jonathan takes your hand in his and guides your other shoulder to help lie you back down on the angled bed. With care, he moves your legs over the side bar and onto the mattress, and adjusts your body so that you’re comfortable against the sheets.

“Our time seems to be up, Ten” Jonathan sweetly chimes, kissing your cheek. “Have a good rest, little doll. I’ll see you another day.”

You aren’t able to respond anymore after this, watching as Jonathan walks off and leaves you alone on the bed. You don’t know how long you lie there for, but you’re awake just long enough to hear the room door open. A blur of black and white that you presume to be a worker walks in to do their job, though you’re so far gone by this point that you can’t clearly see them even when they hover atop your limp body, watching you. You’re able to hear your doctor’s voice from somewhere as they do, but before you know it, you’re unable to process anything further and fall into another sleep.

Chapter 41: Rest Twenty - Quiet

“Hey, wake up already.”

You blink, and suddenly become aware of your dim surroundings. You’re strangely in the hall, sitting up on the floor in the middle of the corridor while Lilah towers above you.

“Man, you’re annoying,” She spits out, putting a hand to her hip. "Took too long."

“Wh-what am I doing here?” You question, looking around the hall for any signs of life other than Lilah. However, you see nothing but the same dim lighting and the usual room doors.

“Dunno,” Lilah shrugs a shoulder. “You’re just here. You know, wasting my time.”

You widen your eyes when you realize a cigarette is suddenly between her lips.

“When did you become a smoker?”

“Just now I guess,” Lilah puffs out a bit of smoke, pulling the cigarette away. You then finally realize what’s happening.

“This is a dream…” You mutter, moving forward to push off the floor and stand. “You’re not real.”

“No, but this is,” Lilah casually flicks your cheek hard, which you are strangely able to feel. In response, you bring a hand to the area she hit and cry out in pain, then scowl at the woman while questioning,

“Why the fuck are you here, anyway?”

“You tell me, kid,” Lilah lowers a painted brow, taking another drag in the process before promptly exhaling. “Maybe you’re dead or something. I did say we’d meet then. But who knows? I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

“You sound like Eight.”

“Only because you’re projecting again, you mentally unsound little shit. Why don’t you do us both a favor and actually wake up? Away from this. I don't want to be here anymore than you do.”

These words greatly annoy you, even if they’re not really from Lilah herself. They do sound like something she might say, but accuracy isn’t exactly what you’re focused on right now.

“Just shut the fuck up,” You mutter, much to dream Lilah’s utter disdain. She drops her cigarette and scuffs it out under the soles of her boots.

“You can’t talk to me that way!”

“You’re just a figment of my imagination,” you point out in response. “I can talk to you how I like.”

You then shut your eyes and try to focus on waking up, but Lilah pushes you back down to the ground. You open your eyes wide suddenly when you feel her hands wrapping around your neck. In a panic, you begin to fight against the woman, crying out desperately for her to stop. Before you know it, your eyes shut again, and you hear Yosuke’s voice calling out to you.

“Ten, calm down!” He tells you firmly. You feel his hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them against a wall. When you open your eyes again, you realize you’re sitting on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall with your doctor kneeling before you. Given that he’s pinned you down, you assume you were moving your arms about relentlessly. Your chest rises and falls sharply as you pant rapidly while coming back to full awareness. When you’re finally able to comprehend the fact that you’re not in danger and stop fighting your doctor, he drops his hands and lets you relax your body.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Yosuke questions, his voice softening now as he cups your cheek. “You started struggling in my arms quite a bit, Ten. I had to put you down just to avoid dropping you.”

“I’m…” you shift your eyes around, still alert, but starting to calm down now. “…I had a nightmare. I’m safe, right?”

Yosuke looks at you a moment, but then smiles warmly.

“Of course, my dear,” he promises. “You’re completely fine. I hope you didn’t get nightmares because of the drug. Jonathan told me he had to administer a potable dose. It took me a while to come get you, though. I was in the middle of something important and got sidetracked.”

“I don’t know if it was because of the drug,” you admit, holding your head in one hand. “But I didn’t like what I felt.”

Yosuke rises to his feet and offers his hand, which you readily take to let him help you up.

“You’re alright, Ten,” he promises, petting your head. “You’re going to see your friends for the day. So please don’t worry.”

Despite the messy transition into an awakened state, you try to forget about your discomforting dream and follow Yosuke to the usual hallway, walking by his side rather than behind him. You didn’t pay attention to what room you were by when you became conscious, but you notice it takes a little while to reach the familiar corner. Based on this observation, you assume Yosuke had just taken you out of the shower before you woke.

When you do round the corner, your heart almost skips a beat when you catch sight of Mom leaning against the doorframe of the records office with her arms folded. She seems fairly tired, resting her head against the frame with her eyes closed. When she hears you and Yosuke shuffling by, she slowly opens them, her green eyes piercingly staring at the both of you while her pink lips, still with the remnants of her earlier scar on them, curve into a sweet smile. Yosuke, however, remains completely unmoved by her appearance before him.

“Yosuke,” Mom croons weakly, but happily. “I’ve been waiting to see you again. I knew you’d show up eventually. I’m sure you knew the same of me as well.”

Upon eyeing the woman, you don’t see any other damage to her beyond what she had previously, and this strikes you as utterly strange. However, when she reaches a hand over to rub under Yosuke’s chin, you catch sight of several thick stitches on her palm and let out a short, audible gasp. Yosuke doesn’t notice them at first, but pulls back slightly when he feels the rough things on his skin.

“Oh, right,” Mom frowns, retracting her hand. She then puts both palms up before her, showing her stitches to the both of you. They extend diagonally along the whole palm of her hand, from the right of the wrist to the bottom of her pinky finger. Whatever cuts she received on her palms have left her flesh fairly red, but the wounds are nonetheless dried over and closed up with the thick, dark stitches.

“There’s more on my back and stomach,” Mom almost chuckles as she catches sight of your shocked expression. Even Yosuke seems to widen his eyes just barely more than usual, but he doesn’t react otherwise. “Our little overseer gave me quite a few deep lacerations for being naughty. I’ve been in quite a lot of pain since. I can’t even pleasure myself without it hurting. It’s rather unfortunate.”

Mom sighs.

“If not for my sweet old Simanek, I would have bled out. But between you and me, I don’t think the boss was going to just let me die.”

She pouts then, dropping her hands.

“Yosuke, see what you did?” Mom babyishly chides him, playfully wagging a finger at the man as if scolding him like a child.

“You did that to yourself,” Yosuke says simply, his tone grave. Mom’s eyes flash and flicker just slightly as if in a fury in response to this accusation, and her hands begin to shake slightly. However, she refuses to drop her sweet façade despite the evident offense she’s taken.

“Now Yosuke, you hurt my feelings back there, you know,” She tells him. “And he didn’t seem pleased that you hurt me either. He told me to tell you not to act out on your own again, even if he thought I deserved it.”

“Then don’t make me,” Yosuke warns her in response. This makes Mom start to scowl, but she shakes her head and tries to remain lively with a bright smile.

“Do you remember what I asked?” Mom questions, changing the subject. “The other day?”

Yosuke smirks, but says nothing at first. He instead moves behind you and leans his lips in toward your cheek, pressing both hands on your shoulders while staring up at Mom as he kisses you. You grimace at his gesture, but shudder when you see Mom’s eyes widen and her smile fade. Yosuke then pulls away from you and stands back up straight.

“Goodbye, Mother,” he says with a low voice. He then turns around and walks back down the hall from where you came, giving the woman no chances to respond to him further. Mom’s hands begin to clench and tense up, but she’s promptly reminded of her stitches and stops herself to avoid getting hurt. She shuts her eyes and exhales frustratedly through her nose, but soon regains her cheery demeanor and smiles just for you.

“My little girl,” She calls out sweetly, sending shivers down your spine. “Let’s not make a fuss over this, okay?”

She puts a finger to her lips. “You know I don’t like being reminded of things like this. Let’s just move on and pretend it’s all fine. Eventually, it will be, won’t it?”

“Y-yes, Mom,” you stammer obediently, looking down at the floor. Having to face her again makes you appreciate the brief respite you had from her, but it seems that’s now over. The woman before you gives a bit of a giggle and cups your cheek for a moment before sliding her hand down it. The rough edges of her stitches lightly scratch against your skin and make you wince.

“Now go on. Mommy needs some time alone,” the doctor tells you in a sing-song tone. Despite the uncomfortable sensation of her stitches on your skin, Mom thankfully drops her hand and retreats back into her office, shortly after opening the gate for you. In part, you want to ask her who had been in the office while she was away, but don’t really think it’s worth interacting with her further. Although the interaction you just had left you with an unpleasantness in your gut, you admit at least knowing what happened to the woman assuages your curiosity somewhat. Without a word, you enter the now-open gate and feel relieved when it shuts behind you. Exhaling heavily, you decide to walk toward the rec room to see who’s around.

Upon entering, you’re surprised to find everyone together again. Or at least, they’re in the same room, if only just paired off In their own separate groups. To your very right by a few game tables, you notice Cyrus and Violet chatting about something casually, not really focusing on the table they’re by which looks to be a pool table. You don’t think you know how to play the game personally, but you can see a few glossy colored and numbered balls strewn around the white felt, indicating to you that the two had been playing, but stopped to talk. Cyrus’ back is toward you, so he doesn’t necessarily see nor acknowledge you when you enter the room. You notice, however, that Violet glances at you just slightly as you stand near the entrance of the rec room, her intense, dark-eyed gaze lingering unhappily for just a few discomforting seconds before she immediately turns her attention back to the chatting Cyrus.

Somewhere beside the two, Eight’s curled up on the rightmost couch, leaning against the armrest closest to the others while reading a book with a white hardcover with a title you can't quite make out from where you are. He doesn’t seem to be participating with anyone else, but you’re happy that he at least bothered to show up and be present. He briefly notices your entrance into the room and glances up at you for just a moment with flickering eyes, but promptly returns to his book and ignores you utterly. You’re certain he won’t want to make a fuss about what happened yesterday and that asking him about it, especially while he’s engrossed in literature, would cause any progress you’ve made with him to regress. By now, you have a pretty good idea on how to work him. Hopefully, so will everyone else. And if not now, certainly in time.

Five and Six are on the floor near the couch and to its left, playing a card game against the twins while using a fairly worn out deck of playing cards with some kind of intricate black-and-white diamond pattern on the backs of each card. On the leftmost couch by the television, you notice Lav and Blue sitting on either side of the plush thing, leaning against each armrest while staring intently at the TV screen. You lean in a little closer to see what it is they’re watching, and it looks to be some kind of old drama film with washed out colors and light film grain. It doesn’t particularly interest you, though you do give a quick wave to your friends on the couch so as not to be rude. Ultimately, you decide to join the others in the circle on the floor to observe their strange card game without really participating in it.

“What’s this?” You ask with a raise of your brow. Despite feeling a little shaken up from earlier, your mood lightens somewhat just by being around everyone again.

“It’s this game where you try to get rid of every card in your hand, but lie about what cards you’re getting rid of when it’s your turn to discard some,” Six explains. “And if you’re caught lying, you have to take the whole pile of discarded cards.”

You glance at Two and Three who both have a rather large array of cards in their hands, comparable in size to the others who have just a few remaining. This makes you laugh.

“I’m guessing you two aren’t that good at this game.”

“They can’t stop laughing when they put down cards,” Six pouts. “But that’s fine. It just means it’s me against Five.”

“Don’t think you have the upper hand just yet sweetie,” Five winks at her. “We’ve got the same number of cards left.”

“I didn’t even know there were cards here,” You mention with a raise of your brow. Three nods, giving a lively mm-hm noise.

“They’re in the library on a shelf in the back,” She tells you cheerily. “There’s a few other board games in there too.”

“I never really looked at all the shelves,” you admit with a chuckle, supposing that these are some of the shelves Eight had mentioned he doesn’t really pay attention to. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You continue to observe this peculiar card game, watching as each Number places down different cards face down and claims they’re discarding specific suits. Five and Six continue to watch each other intently, keeping an eye on any signs of falsehood in their words and expressions. Meanwhile, it’s extremely easy for them to gang up on the twins, since they both keep bursting out into laughter before they can even finish saying what they’re discarding. At some point, Two even drops his whole deck on accident and reveals his hand to everyone, since he’s holding them in his free hand while the other remains in its signed cast. These setbacks allow both peach girlfriends to call the twins out on their lies, forcing them to pick up the discard pile each time. From then on, you watch in astonishment as Five and Six go head to head, discarding their cards equally, getting called out and having to re-collect those cards again, and so on until it’s almost cyclic.

“How long is this gonna go on?!” Two almost whines. “You two are ridiculous. You’re just recycling each other’s cards by now, so it’s obvious when you’re lying.”

Three giggles. “Plus, you guys know each other well enough to tell when the other is lying anyway.”

“So we’re in a rut,” Six pouts again. “Should we quit?”

Five shakes her head and motions to Three.

“No way. Give me half your cards and give her the other half. I’m gonna win this.”

“You’re serious?” Six raises a brow, but smirks when Three enthusiastically does as asked, eager to see where this game is going to go. “If you say so.”

This amuses you somewhat, though you’re not sure you’re in much a mood to watch a never-ending card game right now. You stay politely seated on the floor, however, watching nonetheless and getting startled when both girlfriends start to loudly call each other out more and more often. Eight, you notice, is especially bothered by this rising level of noise, as he scoots over to the other end of the couch he’s on and brings his book even closer to his face, trying to tune everyone out as if regretting his decision to show up at all.

After a while of going back and forth, it’s Six who eventually wins, finally completely discarding her pile and successfully fooling Five. In excitement, she raises her hand up and cheers out, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

“Hey, keep it down, will you?” Blue calls out. She doesn’t seem genuinely angry, but rather straightforward. “We’re at a really, really sad part right now.”

“My bad,” Six laughs, putting a hand to her mouth. She then looks at Five and grins. “Better luck next time.”

“Don’t give me that!” Five giggles, moving forward to hug her peachy girlfriend. The two young women end up rolling on the floor in laughter, while Two and Three pick up the cards in assumption that their game is over completely now.

You notice Cyrus turning around at all the noise behind him and walking over in curiosity. Violet seems to realize that he’s going to notice you on the floor when he goes over, so she reaches out to stop him when he turns. However, she stops herself when he walks off anyway with obliviousness to her gesture. She instead follows behind him, folding her arms and avoiding your gaze.

“What’s going on over here?” Cyrus questions with a bit of a laugh. “You guys are really loud.”

He finally catches sight of you on the floor once he’s moved closer. You’re surprised he hadn’t noticed you at all before, all things considered.

“Oh, hey. When did you come in?” the young man questions curiously. “I hadn’t even heard the door open. I guess I was pretty distracted by my talk with Vi.”

This seems to offend the young woman who’s taken a place beside him. Violet widens her eyes slightly and looks at Cyrus in offense.

“Distracted?!”

You flush with embarrassment, feeling awkward now that she’s clearly getting riled up. Cyrus seems to ignore this, however. You’re not sure if he’s doing it willingly or accidentally in his focus of you, but it still makes you reel slightly nonetheless. Perhaps even a guy like him is naïve enough not to notice such awkward changes in tone in a conversation, but you can tell right away that things are going sour.

“I got in a little bit ago,” You admit quietly, sheepishly rubbing your arm. “I didn’t wanna bother you guys.”

“That’s a good instinct,” Violet mutters, but Cyrus lowers his brows as he glances to the side at the girl. He says nothing otherwise, but you're sure he's none too pleased that she's starting up again.

“It’s no trouble,” he tells you, trying to remain upbeat. “Don’t worry about it. But…”

He looks down.

“I kind of need to talk to you about what happened the other day, when you have the chance.”

You’re sure he means talking about what happened with Mom, since he didn’t get to yesterday nor the day before. This only confirms to you that he knows she had pulled something. Despite being a bit sheepish about talking openly about it at all, you admit after your conversation with Lav that you ought to be more open. So, you answer in agreement,

“Yeah, I guess I ought to talk about it with you…”

This statement makes Violet even more frustrated, and she grabs Cyrus’ arm. You realize then that she might have misinterpreted both yours and Cyrus’ words as something of a romantic gesture. Even though that isn’t the case, you’re sure it looks suspicious that you two are speaking this way with one another.

“But…you and I were gonna go swimming, remember?” Violet reminds him, almost pleading with her voice.

“Well, yeah,” Cyrus answers with a half-smile. “We can still go. I was just letting her know in general.”

He looks over at you and shrugs.

“Wanna come with? We can invite everyone else too.”

“Why?” Violet scowls. “It was supposed to be just-“

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, not wanting to let Violet get her words out. You’re already sure of what she’s going to say. “I don’t mind staying around here for a while.”

Cyrus seems disheartened, realizing quite quickly what you’re doing without you having to say a word about it.

“Ten…” He mumbles almost in a slightly reprimanding tone. “You don’t have to stay behind if you really don’t want to. You’re free to do whatever you like here.”

You sigh. “Believe me, I want to. I just…”

“What do you mean you want to?” Violet lets go of Cyrus and glares at you intensely. “Just what are you getting at?”

“Nothing!” You speak defensively, raising a hand somewhat. “Violet, I’m not trying to-“

“Yes, you are!” She doesn’t let you finish. Evidently, she’s set her mind on her little assumption and has elected to be utterly offended by it. You feel pressured because of this, your frustration growing. Today was supposed to be relaxed, but now you’re being attacked just because you’re you.

“I’m just sitting here, doing nothing,” you try to tell her. “Violet, you’re getting worked up over nothing. I already said I won’t go, so it’s fine. You’re just being excessive.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m crazy!” Violet shoots back angrily. “You keep acting like you’re so much better than me. Just stop! You do nothing but make me look stupid. Ever since you came here you’ve been undermining me and trying to ruin everything I had!”

“Vi, calm down!” Cyrus tries to snap her back, but Violet refuses to budge, her eyes wild, wide, and fiery.

“All you do is play innocent and get everyone’s attention. All anyone talks about is you. Every time I try to make things work, you come along and ruin it! Why?”

By now, you can see that everyone’s turned their attention to your and Violet’s interaction, and this only makes you even more uncomfortable. You’re not sure what to do now. If even Cyrus can’t calm Violet down, then she’s evidently far gone. At this point, he’s begun to press a hand to his forehead, subtly rubbing his fingers against it in frustration.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” You blurt out, genuinely distraught and confused by this accusation. You’d like to work with the girl, but she seems to persist in being difficult with you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Violet. I’m not trying to be hurtful to you!”

“Yes you are!” The bitter girl spits out again, hellbent on her delusions and letting her mouth run without holding back anymore. “You just try to be nice to make everyone fall for you, to get everything you think you deserve. You don’t care who you hurt in the process!”

“You’re the one who’s being mean to me for no reason!” You bark back. Her accusation here offends you most of all. You didn't ask for all the attention you get. “What the hell did I do wrong? I just wanted to be a friend to you and all you’re doing is treating me like shit!”

Violet clenches her fists, scowling. “I don’t need you to be my friend, I don’t want you in my life! You’re just a fucking pain and all you do is take away or ruin the few good things I have to cling to! Why do you have to tag along so much? Why can’t you just do your own things and leave us alone? Why do you have to care so fucking much?”

“Violet, that’s enough!” Cyrus shouts out, his voice firm and commanding. He almost sounds like he had the other day when yelling at Eight. As before, this shakes most everyone in the room, and all the other Numbers, even Eight, are intently staring at the two. Nobody seems to want to speak up, afraid of what might happen if they do.

Hearing this tone being used with her, Violet finally stops talking and looks at Cyrus with upturned brows, looking hurt. You don’t suppose Cyrus has ever snapped at her before. Has he really been that much of a pushover for the girl? He even seems to be struggling with himself now, hesitating to speak further and looking down as if trying to gather what else to say. You pity that he has to put up with this, but suppose you can’t help it now.

“Vi…you can’t just treat people that way,” Cyrus finally musters up his words, his voice still firm. “Ten is still a part of this group and you can’t really change that. Everyone here is a part of this. I don’t like that you do this to people. I don’t want you to do it to her or anyone else.”

“She’s the one who’s hurting me!” Violet persists, though her tone is less barking than before. In fact, it sounds far more desperate. “You just don’t understand.”

She then changes her tone completely, utterly ignoring you now and taking Cyrus’ hand while trying to smile.

“Look, I’m sorry. Let’s just go, okay?” She practically begs, her voice shaking. “I just want to go.”

Without another word, she begins to walk away toward the rec room doors, still clutching the young man’s hand. However, she stops upon realizing that he’s not moving with her. She’s stepped far enough away that her arm has extended behind her, while Cyrus’ has extended ahead of him. When she feels him refusing to budge, Violet turns around, her expression twisted with hurt. Cyrus looks down a moment, but promptly drops his hand away from the girl.

“Cyrus, please,” Violet fully begs now, still trying hard to smile despite looking like she’s going to cry. “Please come with me.”

Silence fills the room for a moment, with Cyrus not bothering to respond immediately. He seems to be standing there contemplatively, but avoiding Violet’s gaze all the while. You’re not sure whether speaking up now would be wise, so you merely sit back and let things play out. Eventually, Cyrus speaks, his tone less firm and instead far more solemn.

“Vi…” he mumbles. “I can’t be for you what you want me to be. You’re my friend.”

“Come on,” Violet almost laughs with her shaky voice, ignoring this statement. “Let’s just get out of here already. Like always. I said I was sorry.”

Cyrus steps closer to Violet and puts his hands on her shoulders, looking directly into her dark eyes.

“Violet, I really, really care about you,” he says. “But you’re becoming more and more delusional and biting. You’re letting yourself turn into this resentful, bitter person. You didn’t used to be this bad. I’m really worried about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Violet shakes her head. You’re not sure if she’s willfully ignoring this, or genuinely unable to process what’s being told to her. “I don’t understand. Why you’re saying all this?”

Cyrus shuts his eyes and exhales, but eventually musters up the words.

“Vi, I love you. You’re important to me. But…I don’t love you the way you want me to. Whatever it is you’re doing…it needs to stop.”

Violet pauses a moment as these statements are forced to sink in. After a brief silence, tears finally begin to stream down the girl’s cheeks as she struggles to take in Cyrus’ words. For just a moment, all she does is stare back at the young man with hurt eyes.

“Y-you hate me, don’t you?” She finally concludes, her voice even shakier now that she’s started to cry. Cyrus rapidly and shortly shakes his head, re-opening his eyes and focusing again on the girl before him.

“I don’t hate you, Vi,” he promises her with a softer voice. “I promise I don’t. But you’ve been acting out so much lately, even before this too. I know how much I mean to you, but I don’t...”

He sighs, trailing off.

“There’s just nothing there, Violet. I’m sorry. You’re just hurting yourself.”

Beginning to blubber, Violet picks up her hands and brings them to her face, removing her glasses with one while starting to weep violently into the other. She gives loud gasps as she tries to breathe, her sobs filling the room and echoing against its walls. Cyrus shifts his gaze away solemnly. He says nothing, but doesn’t pull away from the girl either.

“I know,” Violet finally manages to squeak between her sobs. “I know you don’t like me, Cyrus. I just thought if I tried hard enough…”

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentence, beginning to sob loudly again. Cyrus, despite looking hurt himself, tries his best to remain composed. He brings his hands to Violet’s wrists, gently pulling down her arms and uncovering her face so that she’ll look at him. He then cups his hands around hers and shifts his gaze again on the weeping girl who looks up at him with a wet, flushed face.

“Violet, you mean a lot to me,” Cyrus finally admits, trying to smile despite his face still being wrought with sorrow. “I enjoy spending time with you. I really do care about you, but…I don’t feel the same way you do. I just want to be a good friend. I still want to see you, I do. But…”

He squeezes her hands.

“I’m sorry that I have to tell you this now. I didn’t want to hurt you, believe me. It was something I struggled with for a while. But maybe it’s because I never said anything and kept indulging you that you became this way.”

Violet tries to compose herself, though tears still continue to fall from her eyes and onto the floor.

“I’m so stupid for caring in the first place, aren’t I?” She questions, still blubbering. “This is just all my fault, isn’t it?”

“No, you’re not stupid at all,” Cyrus promises her, shaking his head. “And I don’t want to place the blame on you, so please don’t make so many assumptions. I’m the one responsible for letting things get to this point. I tried too hard to protect you from having to feel bad. But…when you have feelings for people, sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”

He winces as he utters these words as they strike a personal chord, but tries to remain composed.

“It hurts, I know. Believe me when I say that. But it won’t forever. I promise it’ll be okay. It’ll just take time before it is.”

Violet hangs her head, shutting her eyes to try taking everything in again. After a while, she picks her head back up and looks at Cyrus desperately.

“What am I supposed to do now, then?” She demands, though her tone isn’t particularly angry. “Cyrus, you were all I had to keep me afloat. Nobody here even likes me. Nobody wants me around. What am I supposed to do without you?!”

Cyrus slowly drops Violet’s hands and opens his mouth as if to speak, but says nothing for a few seconds, unable to figure out what to tell her.

“I don’t know,” he eventually admits. “But it’s not true that nobody likes you, Violet. You matter. You have a place here with us. A home. I know there have been a few spats, and that sometimes things haven’t exactly worked out. But I promise we all want what’s best for you.”

He gives a deep sigh.

“I don’t have answers for you about what’s next. I can’t tell you how to feel or what to do. It’s something you have to try figuring out for yourself. All I can do is tell you what I feel and what I want for you. And the way you’ve been, the way you’ve let your thoughts and feelings run and lead your actions and assumptions? It just isn’t healthy, Vi. You’re hurting yourself, and it hurts me to see you this way. I should have done this so much sooner, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t.”

“So what now?” Violet demands woefully, holding her arms and still sobbing. “What happens now?”

Cyrus hesitates a moment, but forces himself to try speaking.

“I think…” He trails off for just a moment, shutting his eyes. “…I think we need to take some time to sort things through.”

He again opens his eyes and looks at the tearful Violet a moment. Neither of the two say anything for a while, standing there in silence. By the way each of them looks away from one another, you can tell they’re fighting to figure out what more can be said, but ultimately, they come up blank. After a brief silence, Cyrus finally puts his hands gently on each of Violet’s shoulders, and the two Numbers’ gazes meet once more. Quietly, he leans in to give Violet a single kiss, catching her off guard. When Cyrus finally pulls away, Violet looks longingly at him through her tears despite knowing that this is the only kiss she’ll ever receive from him.

Cyrus then gives a half-hearted smile, though his eyes still remain sorrowful.

“I’m sorry.” He says nothing more before completely dropping his hands from Violet’s shoulder and leaving her side.

With nothing else to be said, Cyrus walks out of the rec room alone and heads to the right side of the hall somewhere, leaving a shaking, sobbing Violet by herself in the middle of the room. Despite being so wrapped up in her misery, she seems to be fully aware of all the eyes that are on her and glances over at you just briefly through her tears. The sobbing girl looks as if she wants to scowl in anger, but she merely looks at you woefully, as if hurt. It's not until you reach out a hand and try speaking to her that she shakes her head angrily and storms off, still with tears in her eyes. She doesn’t seem to follow Cyrus from what you can see, instead going to the opposite end of the hallway toward the gardens. When the doors shut, everything goes silent for a while, with absolutely nobody knowing what to say about what just happened.

Eight, despite having been completely attentive of the scene before him, now quietly returns to his book. He seems a bit disturbed by the spectacle, but evidently doesn’t want to have to address it openly.

“S-should we go talk to her?” Three finally speaks up, still holding the deck of cards in her hands. She never really put it down the whole time Cyrus and Violet had been speaking. You sigh, rubbing your temples a moment.

“We should, but I don’t think she needs it right now,” you mull it over. “She’s going to be stubborn for a bit in her misery. I can tell that much. She just might need some time to recover from what happened before anyone can intervene. But she really ought to talk to someone. I hope she won’t hold this in.”

“I’ve never seen her like that before,” Blue speaks up from somewhere behind you. When you turn your head, you realize she and Lav have risen from the couch and made their way toward you, though you’re not sure when they did. Both girls take a seat on the floor near Five and Six, who have since sat back up from their rolling on the floor during the whole debacle with Violet and Cyrus. “Not that bad, anyway. I actually feel bad for her.”

You frown. “You did kind of put it in her head that nobody likes her and all.

This statement takes Blue aback, as she blinks at you. “I did?”

You’re shocked she doesn’t even remember the hurtful thing she’d said the other day while Violet was watching over Cyrus. You’re certain she didn’t willfully forget on purpose. Perhaps she wasn’t aware of what she was saying at all, much like Violet herself often isn’t.

“I feel bad myself” Six lowers her eyes, leaning on her now-crossed legs. “Poor girl. She’s always struggled, since she came here even. But maybe it’s for the best that this happened.”

“I think so too,” Lav agrees solemnly. “If things had kept going, not only would she have continued to hurt others, but she would have really hurt herself even more.”

“It probably doesn’t help that she threw a tantrum in front of everyone,” Two ponders, looking up in contemplation. “I mean…I’d imagine that doesn’t make anyone feel good.”

“You’re certainly not doing her favors by gossiping about her precisely the way she expects you to,” Eight finally speaks up with a stern voice, defending the girl. He lightly licks the tip of a few fingers so that he can turn a stubborn page. His sudden decision to contribute to the conversation makes everyone glance at him.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to avoid,” Six responsively chimes in. “We saw it right in front of us.”

“No, he does have a bit of a point,” Five finally adds with a scratch of her head. “Maybe we should just let it be for now. Just keep an eye on Violet if you guys see her. But don’t be too pushy so you don’t make her mad. She tends to push people away.”

Lav raises a brow. “And what about Cyrus? He looked pretty torn up about having to hurt her like that. I feel bad for the both of them.”

“God, I don’t think we’re qualified to talk to men about their problems,” Blue scoffs. “He needs another guy to do it.”

“Think so?” Six smirks slightly, and all eyes suddenly turn back to Eight. He, however, pretends to ignore everyone in response until Lav finally pushes him directly.

“Hey Eight, why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Why?” He shoots back with annoyance, dropping his book and glaring at everyone. “Do you suddenly think we’re good friends after what happened yesterday?”

“I mean, you guys did sort of talk a few times already,” You sheepishly suggest. “And maybe he’ll listen to you if you help him rationalize his feelings with, I don’t know, logic or something.”

“Yeah, like male solidarity or whatever,” Blue adds with a shrug. “That exists, right?”

“Emotions are illogical,” Eight persists in refusing, responding to your statement while ignoring Blue’s. “I’m not equipped to deal with them upfront. Ergo, not my problem.”

“Okay, listen buddy,” Lav half-laughs, pushing past Blue and stepping over you toward the young man. “If you don’t go console him right now, I’m going to bother you every day from now on as punishment.”

“What?!”

The other Numbers give a bit of a chuckle at this reaction, and Eight merely looks at them with wide, frustrated eyes before giving a light growl.

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbles while loudly shutting his book and tossing it aside. He gets up from the couch and walks past Lav, but moves toward Two and lifts him up by his shirt collar.

“You too, fucker,” He mutters. Three seems concerned that the grey-clothed young man is dragging her brother away, but she still merely watches with confusion as this happens.

“Ow! What?!” Two winces as he’s raised up on his feet. “Why do I have to go?”

“Because you have a dick, apparently,” Eight answers loudly, beginning to walk toward the rec room doors while still tugging the red-shirted boy along by his collar. “And I’m not about to talk to Cyrus about his feelings by myself. I’m not good with that sentimental stuff, so you’re gonna help.”

“Alright, alright!” Two again winces as he hobbles along with Eight. “Geez, you’re way stronger than I thought you were for someone who can’t even run that long!”

“Shut up!”

The two young men eventually disappear, leaving all the other girls except for you to laugh at what just occurred. Admittedly, this moment has been a nice change of pace from the previous tense conversation, though you don’t necessarily feel like laughing right now yourself. You’re sure the others are able to move on from serious things more easily with how long they’ve been here, but you still struggle to. After a moment of contemplation, you slowly rise to your feet and move a few stray hairs out of your face.

“You okay, Ten?” Lav asks as she watches your crestfallen face. However, you look at her with a half-hearted smile and nod.

“I think I just need time myself,” you answer.

“Talk when you feel ready, okay hon?” Five speaks up, raising her arm up to touch your hand. “I’m sure this affects you just as much as it does them.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you almost laugh, squeezing the sweet girl’s hand in reciprocation. “I promise, I’ll be fine.”

You don’t really give anyone else the chance to respond. Despite Lav opening her mouth in want of protest, she lets you go this time and allows you to clear your head alone. As you head into the hall, you’re not sure where to really go. You don’t want to have to risk running into anyone right now, and you certainly don’t want to go see Violet. You’re still somewhat mad at her for everything, but also disheartened utterly that you had to watch her suffer. Certainly, it was as embarrassing for her to stand there in front of everyone as it was for you to be yelled at by her in front of everyone. You partially hold yourself responsible for what happened even though all you did was coax Cyrus into doing what he had to. Eagerly, you hope things can settle down later. But for now, you’re aware that everything’s utterly out of your hands.

Rather than enter a room, you mindlessly wander to the gate toward the entrance of the hall and wrap your hands around the bars, glowering slightly at the memory of what happened here a while ago. This hallway was, incidentally, a place everyone would use to stop and talk. In fact, you are able to remember chatting with several of the other Numbers here. You’re not even sure how long you’ve been at the facility without any sense of time instilled in you, but you feel as though it’s been a long while since you came. So much has happened between these rooms that it almost rattles you to think of it.

Despite the fondness remembering your friends brings you, being in this hallway now leaves you in a somewhat scornful state. Though you know you shouldn’t let it get to you, you feel as though Mom’s ruined even this for you. The gate, the hall, the infirmary, and most every other place you know outside of the recreational rooms has been tainted by her.

Yosuke is a handful as it is. It’s bad enough you’re dealing with your doctor, wanting him more and more while trying desperately to say you don’t. You don’t want to have to deal with Mom too. However, you’re sure you’re going to have to. She’s always there, even when you don’t want her to be. And, even if you had the choice to pluck her from your existence, doing so could mean losing Cyrus entirely. Though it’s highly likely he won’t disappear, you’re still worried something bad might happen if Mom were to suddenly go away.

Frustrated, you slide slowly down on your knees, dropping your hands and now grabbing the bottommost bars of the large gate. The metal it’s made of feels cold against your palms and fingers, and the floor mimics this sensation in your legs as you press against it defeatedly. Silently, you hang your head and close your eyes, trying to make sense of your frazzled thoughts. You’re suddenly starting to feel exhausted thinking so much, but admittedly being by yourself in just this moment is helping to drift you away from the earlier unpleasantness of today, even if only temporarily.

It's only the opening of a metal door that shakes you back into awareness, making you realize you’d completely blanked out for an unknown amount of time. For just a moment, you think it’s one of the double doors behind you and turn your head to see who might be stepping out. However, you see no open doors, nor any people. Realizing that the noise came from somewhere beyond the gate, you instead turn your head quickly back to it with wide eyes as you see the door of the left hallway, from where you’re facing, completely open. From behind it backs out a nervous, thin figure of someone who doesn’t notice you at first, as their head immediately focuses on the shut door across from you.

You’re not sure if this person is male or female at first in your focus of their head. Looking down now, they have a more feminine curvature to their body despite having a boyish hair style with a reddish-brown tone to it. To your shock, they’re also dressed in a gown like yours, one light orange in color. Though this person’s back turns to you as they focus on the closed door, you’re able to see gauze wrapped around their left arm just under their sleeve.

“...Fuck!” The figure whispers to themselves in a panic upon seeing the door before them, their voice fairly feminine, if a bit on the raspier side. They turn their head slightly toward the right hallway with all the rooms, and you are able to make out a bandage on their right cheek and a bright blue color in their eyes.

“H-hello?” You call out, almost desperately. However, you keep your voice low so as not to let Mom hear you in the office. You’re not sure if she’s even there right now since she tends to pop in and out, but you sure as hell don’t want to chance alarming her now should she be. Slowly, the figure at the crossroad of hallways fully turns toward you when they hear your voice, their eyes widening as they see you on the floor. This person has a slightly rounded chin, and on the right of her neck from your perspective, you note that they have a few stitches and an aged wound that you assume is still healing.

“Oh god…” the, you presume, girl gasps in shock when she sees you. “…Are you a prisoner?!”

Hearing the loud volume of her voice, You promptly raise your finger to your lips to quiet he girl, shifting your eyes to the records office. The young woman seems to catch your meaning, so she nods slowly and kneels before the gate to meet you. It’s strange to you that Mom didn’t come out to begin with given how loud the hallway door opening was, but you’re not exactly complaining. You never expected to see anyone new, and though you’re not sure how to take it, the opportunity causes many questions to arise.

“W-who are you?” You shakily ask the young woman while still keeping your voice low, not sure how to process seeing an entirely different person outside the gate, and a prisoner like yourself, no less.

“I…” The girl tries to gather her thoughts. “I’m Jay. My friends call me that because my letter is J. What’s your letter?”

“I don’t have one,” you shake your head, finding it strange that this other group uses letters. “We have numbers here. I’m Ten.”

Jay shuts her eyes.

“I can’t believe they have more people here,” she mutters scornfully, shutting her eyes in frustration despite her voice resonating a hint of disappointment. “I…never knew…”

“Are you trying to run away?” You ask desperately, staring intently at Jay. She nods, opening her eyes again to look at you.

“I was. I started paying attention to my doctor every time they entered my bedroom code,” She explains with a hushed voice, gripping the bars just outside of the ones your hands are on. Correctly, she assumes you understand what she’s talking about. “I was able to listen to each noise the keys made every time my doctor would punch it in. They always did it so forcefully out of habit that each tap made a distinct sound. I spent so long trying to figure it out, so many days just listening. I just wanted to get out of here…”

Jay almost looks as though she’s about to cry in frustration, you notice. However, she seems to try keeping herself together enough to explain things to you, perhaps in some hope that it might help you.

“I-I pushed my doctor as hard as I could into my room. I tricked them into getting close to me so that I could do it, and then I locked the door behind them. After that, I just ran. There was nobody in the hall when I left, and then there were a lot of doors I couldn’t open on my way here. I wasn’t even expecting this door to open.”

She tightens her grip on the bars.

“Ten, I don’t think I’m going to make it,” her voice trembles. “I have no idea where the fuck to go. I’ve been down several hallways already and I have no idea how many more there are, or if that code is going to get me anywhere near the exit, wherever it is. I know for a fact someone’s going to catch me sooner or later.”

Jay then brings her hand to her eyes and wipes away stray tears that have started to form. She scowls at her weakness, frustration evidently welling more within her.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid!”

She then shakes her head and tries to recompose herself, sucking in a sharp breath as she does.

“Look, just listen to me closely, okay? I know the code now, so I’ll give it to you to use. It’s a bit long, but if you can remember it, maybe you can escape too. I don’t know how far it’ll really get you, but maybe…”

Jay trails off, but you eagerly nod to let her know you’re paying attention despite feeling anxious about having to remember a jumble of numbers. However, you try your best to listen eagerly given the dire situation. Having your say-so, Jay shakily begins to recite the code.

“One, zero, five, nine-“

Jay isn’t able to make it much farther before the doors behind her promptly open, making a loud metallic whirring noise as they do and causing the both of you to jump in alarm. Jay turns slightly toward the door, her face wrought with horror as she realizes she’s been caught.

When you look up at the open hall, you half-expect to see more workers standing at the entrance of it like before. Instead, you see a man you’ve never met, but for some reason seem to feel familiar with. You’re certain it’s not the doctors’ superior since his hair isn’t blond like you remember from when you first arrived. Rather, this man seems to have fairly wavy, dark hair loosely held and bunched up on his head, with loose strands falling along his pale cheeks, ears, and neck. Without giving Jay a single moment to react, the man rapidly reaches toward his left armpit where you notice a gun holster attached to what looks like black suspenders. In fact, he has one on each side of his body.

Seeing this, Jay gasps and immediately tries to rise, letting her hand drop from the bar she’d been holding. Before she takes a single step to run away, the man quickly takes aim of a silver pistol toward her. In a flash, he shoots the young girl square in the side of the head, the shot causing a loud bang to echo violently through the halls. Jay lets out a loud cry, though this doesn’t last long as she suddenly and promptly falls to the floor. Though she seems somewhat aware of what’s happening, she doesn’t seem to be able to react to it. Instead, she starts to twitch slightly on the floor, her mouth opening without producing sound as the wounded area on the side of her cranium begins to bleed. Seeing this makes you sit back in horror and bring a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide and your teeth slightly chattering. You feel as though your heart is about to beat right out of your chest with how suddenly it’s started to pump. You can’t bring yourself to scream despite wanting to, with your throat completely tightened up now.

The man walks slowly toward Jay’s twitching body while the doors of the hall close behind him. He then narrows his eyes and frowns as he assesses the injury from above her. Once he does, he then takes his foot and presses the bottom of his black shoe onto her head, moving the thing so that her neck is fully exposed to him. Without hesitation, he shoots again, this time into the back of her skull. It’s this that causes the girl to stop moving entirely.

Once his kill is confirmed and blood begins to more readily pool from Jay’s head and around it, your eyes trail from the man’s black slacks and loose, white dress shirt to his face. His dark eyes dart sharply from Jay’s body to you, focusing intently on your fearful expression. Now facing the man directly, you notice that he has a remnant of some old scar on his cheek, and that a part of his right eyebrow has a gap in it as if to indicate another scar. Though his expression is focused, he soon gives a bit of a slight, calm smile. Seeing this just after having watched him murder a girl chills you utterly. In a desperate attempt to keep yourself from panicking, you begin to focus on a small, looped silver earring the man has attached to his left ear.

Round. Silver. Small. You try to rapidly repeat its physical qualities in your head over and over. However, your thoughts are disturbed when the man points his pistol directly at you from behind the bars, his gentle smile unwavering. You shut your eyes a moment in fear while whimpering, expecting him to pull the trigger. However, he seems to stand in wait instead. His stark refraining from pulling the trigger of his gun causes you to look up at him again while your hands start to tremble.

From the records office, you finally begin to hear shuffling. In moments, a groggy-eyed Mom emerges from the door, holding her head.

“What the hell is going on out here?” She mutters as she comes out. “I was in the middle of-“

However, when she catches sight of the man with the pistol, she stops, her eyes slightly widening. Her eyes flicker toward you just a moment, though she doesn’t linger on you. She then shifts her focus to the floor, taking note of the dead girl on the ground and merely letting out a casual, unconcerned,

“Oh my.”

Without taking the pistol away from its pointed position, the man before you turns his head slightly to Mom and opens his mouth as if to say something. However, he’s promptly interrupted by the door behind him opening again. From the other hall emerges another man with a somewhat thin but still average frame. In his fingers is a full syringe of, you assume, anesthetic. The size of the thing seems different than what you’ve seen, but not excessively so.

He’s followed by two workers—one is merely standing behind the man, but the other looks to be ferrying some array of unusual supplies and chemicals on a wheeled cart. This man in front of the workers is another person you feel a familiarity with, but you’re not sure why. You’ve not officially met him nor the first man once in your life that you know of. The only thing you can safely proclaim as something you recognize is the light blond color of the second man’s hair, the ends of which bend and wave just slightly at the tips. By the way his cool grey eyes stare coldly at you, and by just how unhappily you can see Mom acting toward him when she sees him, you’re able to tell just who this man is.

This blond man lifts his hand to stop the workers from following him as he steps closer to the first man with the pistol. With his grey eyes, he gazes down at the motionless, dead Jay, completely unmoved by the sight of her. As you watch him lightly nudge the girl’s lifeless body with the sole of one of his long, black boots in assessment of her, you look up at his frame intently, trying to understand why you recognize him by examining his body in the hopes that something on his person will help you do so. On his legs are black, fitting pants, and his torso is covered in a white dress shirt similar in style to the other man’s with differences in its sleeves and collar. His sleeves, rolled up to his elbows, are far less loose, while his collar spreads over a grey vest atop his shirt.

Looking more intensely at this man’s face, you can see lines under his eyes that indicate prior exhaustion, the kind of lines that only a sleepless individual would ever have, though he looks wholly composed and alert now despite having them. Strangely, he has the same style of earring as the first man, only it’s in his right ear. You can make out nothing else of note on him, however, and are unable to find the answers you’re looking for by examining him. You know who he is now, but he is familiar in a way you can’t quite make sense of. It doesn’t wholly hurt your head to think about it or cause the familiar static feeing to emerge. Merely, you can’t place it. A memory at the cusp of your grasp is somehow even more frustrating to you than a blocked-off one.

“We could have salvaged her,” he tells the man with the pistol, his voice smooth and deep. Though his face and body aren’t at all familiar to you in recollection, you recognize his voice right away despite how long ago you heard it.

“She was reciting a code,” the dark-haired man finally speaks, answering his superior. His voice is only slightly airier than that of his light-haired counterpart, deceptively gentle but similarly deep otherwise.

“That could easily have been changed out,” Responds the superior bluntly. “I could have it done in a few measly minutes. You’re being careless again.”

“My apologies,” Is the strangely casual response he gets from his associate. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

The superior thinks on this statement a moment, exhaling heavily through his nose. After a brief contemplation, he ultimately accepts it.

“What’s done is done. This one wasn’t of any significance anyway.”

You shudder as he again moves his eyes toward you, his expression remaining utterly unemotive.

“Vanessa,” He speaks up sharply, his tone firm and commanding. You’re not sure who he’s addressing until you again catch sight of Mom still at the office door, her face wrought with a stifled fury. Her eyes are wild and wide, her brows slightly angled downward while struggling to remain in a neutral position. Despite her distance from you, you’re able to see that she’s tensed up, trembling like she had before during her talk with Yosuke. You’re sure her hesitance isn’t coming from a fear she has of the man, as she seemed unafraid of him in general. Rather, you realize it’s the name her superior uttered that’s causing her to become so enraged, though she’s attempting to contain herself so as to avoid trouble just after having been punished for earlier transgressions.

“Lock the doors. Open the gate.” The man continues to command Mom, not even looking at her or addressing her reaction to him. Mom’s fury builds in response to this, but she stands where she is a moment for a reason you’re not sure of. This delay causes her superior to finally turn his head and flick his eyes sharply toward her. Not once does his expression change, though his voice becomes much louder.

“Now.”

Mom fights with herself, but ultimately bites her tongue and sucks up her anger. Not giving a verbal answer, the woman merely retreats back into the office to do as told with her heels clacking loudly against the hard floor. In just a moment, the gate before you drags slowly open, and your heart now sinks as your one veil of shelter from the men before you slides away.

Without having to say anything, the superior merely gestures his hand loosely toward you. His pistol-yielding associate seems to understand this motion, and he calmly walks toward you before knocking your body to the floor with a kick of his heel to your chest. Some of Jay’s blood remains on the soles of his shoe, and so he stains your gown with a few red splotches when he does this. In addition, the sudden kick knocks some air out of your lungs, and so you take a moment to recollect yourself while laying with your back to the cold floor. Before you realize what’s happening, you feel the dark-haired man kneel atop you, straddling your chest and keeping your arms at your side with his legs. You begin to breathe in and out sharply, struggling to take in heavy breaths with the man’s weight on your body, but able to get just enough air not to suffocate.

“A-are you going to kill me?” You fearfully question, practically squeaking the words out. The man atop you merely grins widely and chuckles through his throat.

“Would you like me to?” He asks back with a haunting sweetness to his voice as he addresses you. You gasp and widen your eyes as he points his pistol directly at your face, though he merely keeps it hovering there as a threat. Silently, your assailant’s superior steps into the hallway with his soles clacking slowly against the hard floor. He goes to where you are and moves to stand by your head.

“What is your name?” The superior asks, his stern voice booming from above. You hesitate, your body trembling and your mind still trying to recover from the sight of watching Jay get shot to death.

“I-I don’t know my name,” you tell him honestly, misinterpreting his question in a panic. You can’t bring yourself to focus on much of anything anymore with how quickly things are happening. This answer seems to displease the superior, as he kicks the side of your head hard enough for it to hurt immensely and to make you yelp out in response to the pain, but not enough to wholly rattle you.

“Your name.” He demands again sharply, his expression unwavering from its cold, focused state. You groan slightly at the pain of his hit, but are able to force yourself to make a correction to your answer, avoiding looking up at him all the while.

“Ten…” you weakly tell him. “…My name is Ten.”

The superior stays silent a moment, closing his eyes as he contemplates something to himself.

“Ten,” he repeats quietly before re-opening his eyes and staring again at you. With his booming voice returning, he speaks up sharply. “I highly suggest you forget what you saw here.”

He gives no other warning to you, instead handing his partner the syringe he’s been holding.

“Take her to her room when she’s out,” he orders him. “And contact Lilah. She has work to do.”

The man atop you finally reholsters his pistol and accepts the syringe from his superior. Without waiting for a verbal response, the blond man above you walks away, stepping casually over Jay’s dead body while avoiding the pool of her blood that’s continuing to grow. Despite no longer having a pistol in your face, you continue to feel your body trembling and your heart beating wildly.

The dark-haired man lightly flicks the syringe in his hands, and you’re left to assume that it had originally been meant for Jay. You’re not sure either of the men had expected your presence, though they didn’t seem to give any indication of being surprised by it.

A whimper escapes your lips then as your assailant roughly grabs your head with one hand and forces it to the side, exposing your neck.

“Now don’t move,” he continues to speak in a sweet tone, but grins devilishly. “Or I might accidentally hit an artery and kill you.”

You stay obediently still in response to this, but continue to whimper and grit your teeth as the needle enters your neck. While you’re injected, your eyes flicker to the blond man across from the gate, watching as he stands still and gives orders to the workers before retreating back into the hallway across from you. Almost as quickly as he came, the man disappears in a flash, and the hallway doors shut and consume his frame from your sight.

In moments, the man above you finishes administering the drug and promptly pulls the syringe out of your flesh, releasing you and discarding the needle somewhere to the side. With your head free, you turn it toward your assailant and stare up at him with fearful eyes.

“W-who are-”

The man promptly moves to grab your face and clamps his hand over your mouth before you can finish asking your question. While you continue to tremble fearfully, he leans in close to your ear, still smiling calmly through his forceful gesture.

“There’s no need for so many questions,” he speaks low into your ear, but still with a sly tone. “As far as you know, this is all just a bad dream. Everything you just saw never happened. Do you understand?”

Your head is starting to feel woozy now, but you nod in response. With this, the man atop you peels away his hand and moves to get off of your chest, standing back up after a moment while giving a light grunt. Despite feeling relief in being able to breathe easily again, you’re given no real chance to recover. Promptly, you feel the man grab your arms and lift you up until you’re standing again on your own feet. However, in your growing exhaustion, you stumble against his body and clutch his shirt to try steadying yourself. You’re sure what you were given was the usual drug you’ve been getting, but somehow it feels even stronger now than it did before. You assume that you were given a higher dose this time since the syringe looked somewhat bigger when you saw it, but with panicked thoughts still lingering in your groggy head, you start to falsely assume that you’re dying. Any ability you have to think rationally deteriorates as the drug rapidly and strongly takes its effect on you.

You then feel the man’s hand grab your chin and lift it up so that you’re forced to gaze again upon his face. With how little control you have over your eyes now, he looks blurry, and it’s hard for you to focus on him entirely despite knowing that he’s observing you.

“We didn’t give you too much, did we?” The dark-haired man asks almost playfully, though his voice sounds muffled with how fast you’re fading.

“I…don’t want to die…” you wearily and mindlessly mumble, suddenly realizing that there are tears streaming down your face as you feel warmth along your cheek. This seems to amuse the man who’s now clutching your body entirely to keep you from falling. Though you hear him chuckle, he says absolutely nothing else in response.

As your body begins to shut down, you feel your head falling back, hanging without support as you slowly lose consciousness. Your eyes move slowly again to the gate, only making out the crumpled white color of the workers’ uniforms as they hover over a pool of red and orange. You suddenly feel sadness in your heart, but can’t focus anymore on why as your eyes slowly start to close. The splash of warm colors you see surrounded by a sea of whites and greys soon fades, until nothing but black consumes you.

Chapter 42: Rest Twenty One - Evaluation

Heaviness and numbness are the only sensations you really feel in your body as you start to awaken. Whether your limbs are moving, or if they even can, you’re not sure. Whereas you sometimes feel weightless when passing out, waking up now makes your muscles feel as though they’ve been locked up entirely. You’re almost inclined to believe someone is on top of you, but when your eyes slowly open, you can’t catch anything of note in sight other than a peach wall. This quite immediately strikes you as strange, but you’re still too mentally drained to really think hard about it.

In an attempt to regain control of your body, you clench up a hand, and it’s this you’re able to feel more clearly. As your fingers curl, you feel soft sheets beneath one of your palms. When your eyes wearily shift around, you are relieved to find you’re not in an examination room bed. However, this bed is strangely not yours. Underneath your turned body are cream-colored sheets, but they’re tinted more with a peach color than the sheets you’re familiar with. You’re able to gather that this bed belongs to one of your friends, but you’re not sure why anyone brought you to their bedroom rather than yours. In fact, you’re not even sure if it’s nighttime or morning. With how heavy everything feels, you’d believe you slept for days.

As your body slowly starts to regain its ability to move, you begin to twitch your toes and shuffle your legs around just slightly. The heaviness in you starts to lift, though your head remains fogged up just enough for you not to try getting out of bed yet. Much to your surprise, however, you feel a hand start to pet your head gently from somewhere behind you.

“Yosuke…?” You weakly mumble, almost mindlessly so. However, you realize immediately after calling out that this touch is not your doctor’s, though your ability to distinguish it from others by this point no doubt bothers you immensely. No, this touch feels far lighter.

In your curiosity, your head turns weakly to the left. Unexpectedly, you catch sight of Gale hovering over you, and when they notice you’ve awoken completely, the young doctor gives a calm, reassuring smile.

“How are you feeling, Ten?” They ask sweetly. You’re not sure you can really give a coherent answer at this point, but you do let out a light groan and turn away again. This makes Gale laugh softly.

“I suppose the drug is still wearing off,” they mention. “Here.”

They then move their hands along your shoulders and gently turn your body, facing it so that you’re lying flat with your back on the mattress. When they’ve finished repositioning you on the bed, you raise an arm to your head and cover your eyes with your forearm, not really in the mood to be faced with the brightness of the entire room just yet.

“What happened to me…?” You finally mutter, at least grateful you can still talk in complete sentences. Gale, who you can now see has elected to dress in their corduroy pants and dress shirt again, sits back down in a peach desk chair by the corner of the room, but wheels it toward the bed to sit beside you. You’re not surprised that the bedrooms seem to all have the same furniture in them. You are, however, surprised that the people here go out of their way to decorate each room in accordance with each prisoner’s color. You’re sure it’s not hard to refurbish these, though. They’re simple enough to replace each colored item.

“You were put out for a while,” The calm doctor beside you answers simply. As you shift your eyes toward them, you can see that they’re still smiling calmly. Gale has started to sit back in their chair, folding one leg over their knee and putting both hands in their lap. “You had quite a lot going on for you yesterday.”

You struggle to remember just what Gale means at first since your head is still foggy from the anesthetic. The only thing you can more distinctly remember at this point is what happened with Cyrus and Violet, and thinking about it makes your heart sink. You’re sure, though, that this isn’t something Gale would have known about, nor that it’s what they’re referring to.

“Whose room is this?”

“My Number’s,” Gale answers honestly. “Yosuke asked me to take care of you today since he got called away for something very important. He watched over you for a while before bringing you here, after I’d taken Six to the hall. Yosuke said you seemed stressed lately and thought you might need some time away from things.”

“Why?”

Gale shrugs a shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot with Momma, haven’t you? I’ve been made aware of what happened. We don’t have to discuss that openly if it bothers you, though.”

You’re not sure why Yosuke would have had you stay behind just for what happened with Mom in the hall a while back. He didn’t do this for you when you encountered Milos, nor anyone else for that matter. He took it upon himself, in fact, to take care of you those times. Just not with words.

“Why isn’t he here?” You question.

“As I said, he’s busy,” Gale reminds you. The lack of their teasing you for supposedly missing your doctor is highly appreciated. “He trusted me to take care of you today. He didn’t think anyone else other than perhaps Nathaniel or Jonathan would be able to do it, but they’re pretty busy too. I was the only one available.”

“The last time he entrusted someone with me, it didn’t go well,” You pout. However, Gale gives a chuckle at this statement, clearly amused by it.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you, Ten,” they say assuredly. “You may not end up liking being stuck with me, but I’m taking care of you in Yosuke’s stead. For his own personal reasons, I suppose he didn’t want me in your bedroom. I personally had no qualms about housing you myself, so I was given permission to have you here.”

“Permission…” you repeat this word mindlessly aloud. This causes your mind to trail to the thought of Gale’s boss, and it’s then that you more clearly remember everything that happened recently—the sight of Jay’s dead body, the booming sound of the pistol being fired, the haunting stare of the doctors’ superior…

Upon the memory of earlier completely returning to you, you jolt up with a loud gasp, your eyes wide and your hands now firmly gripping the sheets beneath you at your sides.

“What’s wrong?” Gale asks with a tilt of their head, looking concerned by your sudden outburst. You begin to bury your head in your hands and tremble, recalling the encounter with the superior vividly.

“I…” You almost want to explain it to Gale, but struggle to get the words out. Instead, you ask shakily, “Is Jay dead?”

“Jay?” Gale raises a brow. “Is that a friend of yours?”

“Jay, a girl from another part of the facility,” you clarify, dropping your hands to look up at Gale. “I watched her die. I-I don’t…”

“Ten, are you alright?” Gale asks with a frown. “Maybe you’re still being affected by the drug. There’s no such person here.”

“Yes, there is!” You persist, then look down. “Or…was. I watched a girl die, Gale. You can’t tell me I didn’t!”

“Ten, don’t get so upset,” Your temporary caretaker laughs gently. “You just had a bad dream. There were no deaths yesterday. Word would have gotten around if there had been.”

You look at Gale with frustrated, wide eyes, realizing that they’re trying to sweep Jay’s existence under the rug. Promptly, you chide yourself for being open to them in the first place, though you admittedly couldn’t help yourself with your panicked state. Even now, you’re not sure you can keep this memory to yourself. You only wish you had the Numbers here to talk to instead.

“You’re welcome to tell me what you think happened,” Gale tells you, still with a calm smile. “Maybe getting it off your chest will make you feel better.”

“I told you already,” you scowl, frustrated that Gale seems to have read your mind. “I watched someone die. Someone who was just trying to get away from all of this.”

You sigh, pressing a hand to your temple.

“I think…I think I met him too.”

“Him?” Gale again tilts their head. “Who?”

You shut your eyes. “Your boss. I recognized him from when I first woke up here with Yosuke. I saw and heard him so briefly back then. I…”

You shake your head and drop your hand. Opening your eyes again, you look directly at Gale.

“Gale, who is he? And who is the man that was with him?”

“A man?” The doctor repeats, looking up in thought. “Hm, I’m not sure. What did he look like, this man?”

“He had dark hair and an earring,” you recount, shuddering at the memory. “A-and…and he had guns. He’s the one who shot Jay. He came through the other hall and shot her before she could even try to run.”

“How did you meet this Jay?” Gale asks calmly, redirecting the conversation.

“She came out of the hall. She didn’t see me at first, but she started talking to me when she did.”

“Was she nice?”

You look at Gale with lowered brows.

“What does that matter?” You question them. “I mean…she was scared. I don’t know.”

“You seem fond of this specter,” Gale answers you with a polite smile. “I only ask because she seems important to you.”

“She was real. You can’t convince me otherwise. Are you going to also tell me that the man and your boss weren’t real?”

Gale gives another shrug. “Hard to say.”

They then fold their arms and look at you with another smile.

“Ten, could you do me a favor?” They ask you. This question confuses you, but you oblige the doctor nonetheless. “You’re telling me what happened in fragments, but I’d like to hear you recount it more closely and in more detail. From the beginning of your day, in fact. I’d like you to tell me everything you can remember in your own words. Can you do that for me?”

“Huh?” You blink. “But why?”

“I want to understand what you saw,” is the reply you receive. “Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to dismiss your feelings so readily. Besides, recounting it thoroughly might help you make sense of things as well.”

You admit this isn’t entirely untrue. Speaking to Gale just a minute ago about everything felt jumbled and confusing, but it helped to at least say something. With a heavy sigh, you decide to oblige them and do your best to recollect what happened as best you can.

“I…had a bad dream yesterday,” you begin, moving your hands into your lap and looking down. “A nightmare. I was in the hallway with Lilah and she started berating me. Since I was aware she wasn’t real, I talked back to her a little and then tried to wake myself up, but she started choking me like…”

You refuse to finish this sentence, wincing. However, you continue to speak.

“I didn’t wake up until after that, but Yosuke was there when I did, trying to calm me down since I’d started to panic. He helped me come down a bit before taking me to the hall, and Mom was waiting there for us when we rounded the corner. I hadn’t seen her in a little while, but she had these cuts on her hands that were stitched up. She said her boss hurt her for what she did to me, and then she started blaming my doctor for letting it happen. I remember them having a pretty unpleasant interaction, and Mom got really mad at Yosuke for dismissing her so much. She looked ready to burst, but she tried to be the same way she always is.”

You shudder.

“She’s so creepy, I can’t stand it sometimes.”

You look back at Gale and notice them watching you intently, but they don’t seem to be responding like before, rather waiting for you to keep going. They have one of their thumbs to their mouth, and you can see them mindlessly chewing at their nail while they observe you. This makes your nervousness rise slightly, but you don’t comment on it.

“…After that I just hung around my friends for the day,” you continue, feeling a bit strange now that you have to talk about the group. “We didn’t do anything in particular, we just hung around a while. But then I had to deal with C-“

You stop yourself, trying to avoid saying his name.

“I had to watch two of the Numbers have a difficult discussion,” you say instead. “But I didn’t do much else with everyone otherwise. I went into the hall after to clear my head.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but could you tell me more about that conversation?” Gale inquires. “I need you to be thorough.”

You hesitate, but try nonetheless. Sheepishly, you admit,

“It was between One and Seven.”

Gale then speaks up once more. “And what did they discuss that upset you enough for you to need to clear your head?”

“I don’t know,” you lie, looking back down. “I can’t remember. I just remember it made me feel bad for them and bad in general. I’d already been dealing with a lot, so that really didn’t help.”

Gale looks at you a moment in contemplation, but then nods and allows you to continue.

“I went to the gate in the hall because I didn’t know where else to go,” you keep talking. “And after a while, I heard the hall door open. I thought it was a door behind me, but it wasn’t. I hadn’t expected to see Jay at all, but she was there looking panicked. She came to me when she saw me, and we started to talk.”

“And what did she say, exactly?”

You close your eyes, fighting with yourself on whether or not you should explain it.

“I…” you hesitate. However, you again lie instead. “I don’t remember much. She was just trying to escape, and that’s all I really know. She told me her name was Jay, since her letter was J in her group. I didn’t realize there were even other people around here, but I hadn’t ruled the possibility out either. Jay told me she was trying to get out of here, but she seemed torn up about it. She wasn’t sure where she was going. She even seemed to know someone was going to come for her.”

“Can you tell me what she looked like?”

“She had blue eyes,” you answer honestly, strangely without hesitation. “And brown hair that almost looked red. She wore this light orange gown, and I guess she had a few injuries since there was a bandage on her face and gauze around her arm. I remember seeing a scar on her neck too.”

You sigh.

“That’s when everything happened. The hall door across from the gate opened up and the man I told you about came to shoot her. He shot her twice in the head.”

“Where?”

You wince at recollecting this information, balling your hands into fists now and gripping the comforter in your lap.

“He hit her on the side, then turned her head with his shoe to shoot her in the back of her head. I saw her twitching at first, but she stopped moving immediately after. She kept bleeding the entire time everything else happened.

“After that man shot Jay, he smiled at me. It…it terrified me. He pointed his gun at me, and I was afraid he was going to kill me. But he didn’t. Mom came out of the office just after, and she didn’t seem at all worried about Jay being dead. She didn’t even seem to care.”

You hesitate to keep talking as you suddenly feel tears streaming down your face. In surprise, you raise a hand to your cheeks and touch its wet surface, pulling back your hand after to look at the residue on your fingers.

“W-why am I…”

Gale smiles calmly, but gets up off their chair and heads to the restroom door. They disappear for just a moment, but emerge again with tissue in their hand. Kindly, they hand it to you.

“Here,” they coo, patting your back after you take the paper and use it to wipe your face. “It’s alright if you cry, Ten. But please, I’d like you to finish.”

“I don’t want to,” you shut your eyes. “I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

“It’s important to let these things out while you can,” Gale urges you gently. “There’s no consequence in doing so in this room with me. I promise.”

“So, you’re affirming that all this was real?” You look up at the doctor, opening your eyes and staring hopefully at Gale. They merely shake their head at you.

“Finish first,” they urge, returning to their chair and again assuming their previous leg position. “We can talk afterward. I want you to take the lead for now.”

You sigh in frustration, but suppose that you don’t have much of an option here. So, you continue on with your recounting, trying to remain composed and wiping away more tears.

“Your boss showed up after, with two workers. They had some cart full of chemicals and other supplies I didn’t recognize, but I assume they were there to clean up the body. The man with the pistol pinned me down and threatened me. Your boss kicked me in the head and told me to forget what I saw, and I assume he told you to make sure I forgot what I saw too.”

You look at Gale with still-wet eyes, but they say nothing, merely watching you. This makes you frustrated again, but you still don’t address it. Instead, you continue on.

“He had the man with the gun drug me. I don’t really remember much else after that. Everything went blurry. I felt like I was dreaming. Even the man who drugged me had said it was a bad dream before I started feeling tired. But after all that happened, I don’t know what I was feeling or thinking or even seeing. I don’t remember.”

This, for once, is the truth. The drug started to affect you rapidly after you were dosed with it, and so a lot of your memory from when it took its hold on you is horribly spotty. You even had forgotten a bulk of what happened when you were waking up in recovery from the drug, though maybe you just wanted to forget about it all in general.

“I see,” Gale again bites their thumbnail contemplatively. “Thank you, Ten. Do you feel better having explained it to me?”

“I don’t know,” you tell them honestly. By now, your tears have subsided. “I didn’t want to hold it in, but I didn’t exactly want to have to talk to a doctor about it. I’d rather talk to my friends. I know they could help me better than any of you could.”

“Your dependency on the other Numbers is concerning, but I suppose I can’t blame you for putting your trust in them,” Gale softly laughs. “Proximity and sameness are, after all, very big factors in attachment. They guide many feelings. You’re bound to get that way.”

Gale then drops their thumb, returning their hand to their corduroyed lap. “I’m sure you’d like me to tell you that what happened wasn’t all a dream now, right?”

“I know it wasn’t,” you pout. “I’m not stupid. You all don’t want me to talk about what happened. You want it to be buried. Why that is, I don’t know. But I know that that’s what you’re doing.”

“It’s in your best interest to do as you’re told,” Gale nods. “You saw how dangerous it is to disobey. I’d be very sad if you disappeared, Ten. As would Yosuke.”

“Do you think I give a single fuck about what Yosuke feels?” You scowl at Gale, your offense growing. “Or any of you?! I can’t really see you as people when you do these awful things to us.”

“I apologize for making you angry,” Gale looks hurt, though you don’t believe they really are. “But it is true that you ought to be good. I had said once before that a good girl knows her place, and this is true here. But that’s all I have to say about that matter.”

“And what about the men?” You demand sharply. “Who were they?”

“It’s not important to know, Ten,” Gale shakes their head. You refuse to accept this.

“Why?! Am I not allowed to know your boss exists? Or that other man?”

“Oh, no,” Gale laughs again. “It’s not that. Merely, it’s just that anytime you have to see my superior or the man who was with him, It’s never for a good reason. It’s hardly indicative of positive things. In this case, you can consider it a warning. You said my superior told you to forget about what you saw, and it’s in your best interest to listen to that. When you leave this room, it’s better you pretend it never happened.”

“So why are you not trying to still convince me it was a dream, then?” You question confusedly. “Why are you now telling me it was real?”

“I was trying to give you a hint,” Gale smiles calmly. “But you didn’t take it, so here we are.”

“I can’t just willingly forget about it,” you frown. “I’m going to have to live with it forever. I saw what I saw. I watched Jay bleed out. That man even got some of her blood on-“

You widen your eyes then and promptly move the comforter away from your body to look down at yourself. Unsurprisingly, you’ve been changed into a new gown. You’re not sure what it is you expected.

“No, he didn’t,” Gale continues to smile warmly. “You’re just not feeling yourself, Ten. How about I get you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” you mutter, dropping the comforter back in your lap.

“You were asleep all morning,” Gale persists. “You passed out pretty early in the day yesterday too. Even if you’re not feeling hungry, I guarantee your body needs some nourishment.”

Gale then rises from their chair and moves a hand over to pet your head slightly.

“I’ll go get you something,” they invite kindly. “Would you like anything particular? This is your chance to ask for whatever you want, so do let me know.”

“I don’t know,” you look away. “Something light.”

“Is that as extravagant as you can be?” Gale laughs in amusement. “Alright, Ten. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Without letting you respond, the white-haired doctor heads out of the room, and you hear the door lock behind them shortly after they’ve gone. Now left in silence, you lay back on the bed and exhale through your mouth. You’re not sure what to make of all of this right now. You don’t really want to be here, but you’re sure Gale’s not about to let you go anytime soon. You’re not sure if it’s any better to be with them than it is to be with Yosuke when Gale’s still as insistent and unsettling as any other doctor, regardless of their more consistent bouts of kindness. Unfortunately, this isn’t a situation you can exactly help either way.

You’d like to put all this behind you, but Jay’s death will continue to linger in your mind incessantly like all other things. You wish you could be happy knowing there are others here than the Numbers you know that you can relate to, who share your plights and understand you. However, knowing that there are others here who are suffering like you are only makes you ill. Hopefully, there’s not more than two groups, but you couldn’t possibly know unless other runaways start sporadically appearing. You’re not really sure if staying a prisoner is any better than failing to escape and being met with a bullet to the head.

You then end up turning to the left to face Six’s desk, noting its closed drawer. You hadn’t really ever had the chance or the time to sit at your desk before, aside from the one time you broke down. Remembering this doesn’t help make you feel any better, but you decide to try examining the drawer’s contents in curiosity, hoping that it will distract you from your vexing memories.

The metal thing slides open surprisingly with ease. Smoothly, all things considered. In the drawer, there are a few loose pens and a rather small black notebook. You aren’t sure if you have one in your desk as well or if this journal was brought in from the outside especially for Six. Unless, of course, it belongs to Gale.

Curious, you pick the thing up in your hands and open the cover. There are handwritten notes on the first page, etched in black ink. Although it’s a little hard to read, you’re able to discern that it’s Six’s writing, not Gale’s. The first line reads,

It makes you want to laugh to think of Six saying this aloud, but you don’t necessarily. You’re hardly in any mood for laughter. Rather than linger page by page, you decide to start flipping through pages of the journal curiously. You’re sure diaries and journals like this have dates on each entry, but since nobody in this place really has a sense of time other than the doctors, the pages don’t have any. Instead, everything bleeds together, and it’s hard to discern what was written when.

Another page further on reads,

You flip through a bit more and find another section to read through.You lower a brow while reading this. You’re sure the Eight mentioned isn’t the same Eight you know now. You’ve never known him to be timid. The first statement is also one that takes you aback. You wonder who Six was referring to, so you turn a page back and read toward the bottom of the previous one.Olive?

The name only serves to remind you further that others were here before your group, though you find it striking that Six was so open about the girl’s nickname despite vowing to hide certain details from Gale. You wonder just what the Numbers before the ones you know now had been like, but don’t know who to really ask about it other than Cyrus. He’d be the only one to know everyone from the previous group, but you’re not sure bringing it up with him would be pleasant for your friend.

The reminder of Violet also causes you to become somewhat crestfallen. You’re strangely not surprised to learn she’s always been fairly the same way she is now, but you do sympathize with her somewhat more after reading this part of Six’s journal entry. You remember being confused and afraid when learning about where you were and why. Not only that, but utterly angry as well. Perhaps Violet and your group’s Eight really channeled the latter emotion more strongly. You really wonder how she got to the point she’s at now. From what you’re reading here, she seemed scared and pushed others away. Now, she’s just spiteful and biting, if still distant.

You flip a bit further, closer toward the back of the journal which you’re surprised to find is completely full of writing, without any spare pages left. On the final page, the following is written:

The entry stops there at the end of the page, and no more follow it afterward. In frustration, you look down at the desk drawer, hunting eagerly for any other journals or pages, but there don’t seem to be any.

Promptly and in annoyance, you shut the journal and put the thing back in its drawer before sealing it away. Not wanting to stand around much more, you return back to the bed and sit upon it, looking mindlessly at the peach comforter while you await the inevitable return of Gale. You’d rather they not catch you snooping.

You’re unsure of how to react to these entries. You’re also not entirely certain why there’s a full journal here at all if Six still writes. Had she stopped writing at some point? That would explain the lack of another journal. But if she did stop, Six would had to have done so a long while ago if the previous Ten was being mentioned. You’re not able to discern how long it’s been between his disappearance and your arrival, but you assume it was a while.

It continues to vex you that the page cut off where it did, but you’re almost certain it’s for reasons of censorship. What concerns you most is why they’d censor him, but not others. Jade is gone, but is still known and fondly remembered. The same likely applies for this Olive person Six mentioned, and questionably, the previous Eight. So why censor the previous Ten?

Before you have a chance to ponder on this further, you hear the room door open again. From it emerges Gale with a small bowl and a bottle of water in each of their hands respectively. Tucked under their arm, you notice, is a journal like the one in the drawer. This makes you raise a brow, but you don’t bother to comment on it just yet.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long” They cheerily greet you. The young doctor walks over to you by your side and sets both the bowl and water down for you to take in your hands. You instinctively do, leaving the water between your calves while eyeing the bowl before you. It looks to be some kind of rice dish with fruit in it. The color and texture aren’t much to speak of, but when you bring a forkful of the stuff to your lips and taste a warm sweetness, you find it isn’t unappealing. The flavor is light all things considered. You suppose Gale took your request literally.

“Taste good?” They ask sweetly. You nod, but don’t really respond verbally. You’re still not at all hungry, but figure Gale isn’t entirely wrong that it’s important to eat something. As you eat, you watch Gale intently, eyeing them as they casually move to the desk in the corner of the room. Though their back is turned to you, the sound of the desk drawer sliding open is unmistakable. Gale pulls out the other notebook and sets it on the desk, then replaces it with the new one. Once the switch is made, they push the drawer back in.

“What are you doing…?” You question with unease. Gale merely turns back to you and smiles.

“I needed to replace this notebook for my Number,” they say without hesitation. “I’ve been having her write in it so that she can express herself and not hold things in. She doesn’t like talking to me upfront, so this is a way for her to do so indirectly. I’ve been noticing it’s getting rather full, so I figured it’s time to bring her a new one.”

You’re certain Gale knows that you looked at the thing. In fact, they probably counted on it entirely. This causes you to drop your fork back in the bowl, but you try to pick it up again and hide your shock. You have no idea why Gale might have allowed you to read Six’s journal at all. What game are they playing with you? Are they just trying to scare you?

Trying to remain calm, you continue to eat, avoiding Gale’s calm stare as they watch you.

“Writing in a journal is a practice I used to use growing up, you know,” The young doctor casually explains, sitting back on the chair by your bed. “I’d always kept to myself back then, and writing was the only chance I had to speak my mind.”

You say nothing, continuing to eat slowly. You’re not sure whether Gale’s being honest with you or not now, but you’re starting to feel too confused about what’s happening to really care. Instead, you try to focus on your meal while simply listening on.

“I never much cared to be in the spotlight,” they continue with a light laugh. “Others in my grade always liked to have their fun, interacting with one another. I merely watched from afar, writing, observing. I learned a lot about people that way. I was always too shy to talk to anyone, but still I continued to watch them from a distance. The older I got, the more that really played into my interests. Seeing how people respond to their environment fascinated me—How they interact, how they feel and think and are. Even now, it fascinates me.”

Gale chuckles.

“Well, I bring this all up mainly to note that writing things out really helped me through a lot of difficult times. I think it’s a useful hobby that can truly shape the individual for the better. I’ve seen a lot of awful things impact people in awful ways. Believe me when I say openness is important. It’s imperative that you be honest about how you feel. That’s why I encourage the writing to begin with, at least with my Number. And if not writing, then perhaps talking, or drawing, or any other kind of activity. That’s why I had you recount what happened yesterday.

“Six very much needs someone to guide her like this. She used to hold back so much, but eventually started being far more honest about how things made her feel and why, even if only in text with me and otherwise with you Numbers. Even though she doesn’t always trust me, she knows how to handle herself better than she used to. She’s a very level-headed young woman.”

You admit this is a strange change of pace. Not once have you heard any doctor talk about their Number in such a kind way, but you certainly aren’t complaining about it now. Though, you find yourself bothered by Gale’s other statements about their interests and can’t place just why.

When you look down at your bowl again, you find that you’ve almost entirely finished its contents. So, you put it down between your calves and pick up the water bottle instead, unscrewing the cap and taking a light swig. Once you close it up again, you let the thing linger in your hands and run your thumb along the plastic, looking at it intently to avoid staring up at Gale. Although you don’t really want to have to indulge them, you can’t help but bring up Six while the topic is in focus.

“Do you care about her?” You ask, almost mumbling. Gale smiles and gives a light nod.

“She’s a decent girl,” they answer simply. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her. Enough to want her to be happy. But, of course, I still have to be disciplinary where necessary. I can’t afford to forget where I am and what I have to do, even when I sometimes wouldn’t like to resort to being that way.”

“Right…” You mutter, tightening your grip on the bottle. Five had said that no matter how nice Gale could be, they were still a doctor in the end. The same applies to people like Jonathan or Nathaniel who both try to be kind. Nathaniel had even given you a light threat the first time you met him. And no matter how kindly he, his partner, or Gale treat you, they’re still just doctors keeping you here against your will, just like yours. However, with him, you feel that things are different. Even when Yosuke is awful to you, a part of you looks forward to the times he isn’t. You guess it’s easy enough to tell yourself that the doctors are just using you only when they’re not yours.

You try to move on from this thought in annoyance and continue on with talking about your friend. You’re not sure what else to really ask, so you think of an old point you heard from Five and Six before.

“Did you know that there was another girl with the same color gown before you gave Six hers?” You ask curiously. “I thought it was strange she and Five were dressed the same. With the twins it at least made sense.”

Gale laughs.

“Of course not,” they assure you with a light wave of their hand. “I suppose I didn’t pay much mind to it then. I picked a color at random and decided I’d associate her with it. Nobody really bothered to correct me. But it’s a nice color, I think.”

“I guess so,” You don’t wholly disagree. However, being in this room only really makes you think of the light orange color of Jay’s gown, and remembering her lifeless body again makes you shut your eyes and grimace.

“Are you alright, Ten?” Gale asks, noticing this gesture. You recollect yourself again and look at the doctor beside you hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “But I guess I can’t afford not to be. Can we please not bring it up again?”

“If you like,” Gale smiles. “I suppose we’ve said enough on it.”

“Do you talk to Five too?” You change the subject yourself in desperation to think of anything else, then take a quick sip of your water again. “Since she’s also peach-colored and all?”

“Yes,” the young doctor by your side answers, switching the position of their legs. “She’s practically a second Number to me at times. I often help take care of her when Milos is unable to. I sometimes even take charge of helping her myself entirely since he isn’t always the greatest with being what you’d call caring. The man knows the scalpel better than the individual.”

“That isn’t much of a surprise,” you mumble bitterly.

“He’s not so bad, Ten,” Gale tries to stick up for him, but you absolutely don’t believe it. “Granted, he’s not the greatest man. Like everyone else, he has his problems, his little vices and negative behaviors. But he’s good at what he does and he’s a kind man when he’s clean.”

“I really don’t care,” you frown, tightening your grip on the water bottle. Seeing your discomfort, Gale switches the topic back to Milos’ Number.

“Well, Five’s a sweet girl,” they mention fondly. “I see her fairly often. Like I said, I’m fond of most of the girls here. They’re quite lovely. Even before Six came I’d been acquainted with them.”

Despite being relieved by the earlier kindness Gale showed in referring to Six, it’s these statements now that make you feel the same way you did with other doctors who have spoken of their Numbers. Their statements aren’t explicitly sexual, but are implicit and discomfort you nonetheless. You’re promptly reminded yet again of how you and your friends are only seen as playthings.

“Please just be quiet,” you beg, looking down as Gale rises from their chair and picks up both the bottle in your hands that you’ve stopped drinking from entirely, and the dish from where you placed it. They take both things to the desk and leave them there by Six’s old notebook, then turn to you.

“Ten, I don’t mean to make you upset,” they try to assure you. “I promise I’m doing what I can to make you feel better.”

“Then let me go,” you demand sharply. “I want to see my friends. I didn’t ask for this and I certainly don’t want it.”

Gale shakes their head.

“I was asked to keep you for the whole day,” they remind you. “So, I’m going to do as asked. I don’t want to get Yosuke mad at me. I do respect him.”

You glower. “He won’t do anything if you make him mad. Mom made him really mad and he’s still going to let me see her.”

“Well, that’s between the two of them,” Gale sighs. “He’s a patient man, but he’s still imperfect. Like any of us, really. Everyone has their limit. The difference lies in where that limit is. Different things make different people tick. I’d assume you know this from your time with the other Numbers. There must be some conflict now and again, right?”

You’re again reminded of Violet, but you don’t even have to respond for Gale to know their statement is correct. Promptly, the young doctor sits on the side of your bed, just beside your thighs.

“Ten, you still seem very stressed,” They note with a soft tone. “I suppose I couldn’t alleviate your tension with words.”

“It’s not words with a doctor that I need,” you look away. However, Gale merely chuckles and slides their hand gently under your chin.

“Then what can I do to make you feel better?”

You blush and swat their hand away.

“Not this,” your voice shakes in embarrassment. “Not now.”

Gale smiles again and takes your hand delicately with the one you denied, holding it now in their palm with their fingers curled against yours.

“I can at least give you a brief respite from your misery,” they coo, lifting your chin with their other hand and leaning in closer to you. Before you can answer, you feel Gale kiss you gently, the sensation of warmth upon your lips making your face grow even redder. After just a moment, your body is softly guided down against the bed. Soon, you’re faced with Gale right above you, their hand turning in yours to hold it lightly against the mattress. With their other hand, Gale steadies themself on the bed. They continue to kiss you until you’re dizzy, but you try to regain your senses and pull away from their lips, turning your head away when Gale tries to move back to them.

“I know you’re going to do this no matter what,” you breathe, still blushing from being kissed. “I don’t want it right now. But if you’re going to use me, at least don’t do it here. This is Six’s room. I don’t feel right doing this where she sleeps.”

Gale looks at you a moment without reacting. You’re not sure what it is they might be thinking, and laying here with them atop you doesn’t necessarily do much to assuage your frazzled feelings. But after a short pause, Gale eventually gives a sweet smile.

“Come with me.”

Chapter 43: Visit Twenty - Treatment

“Sit there a moment, kitten.”

Gale motions toward your examination room bed. Your feet feel strange on the cold floor after having had them tucked warmly under Six’s comforter for so long. However, you do as told and sit on the side of the bed patiently with your hands in your lap. You look down while Gale goes to the cabinets behind the head of your bed in search of something, humming casually to themself as if nothing’s wrong despite your evident discomfort and melancholic state.

You don’t want to do this, but you’re not in much a mood to fight it either. Although you know you have to be resilient, even envisioning Eight reprimanding you for being sullen and letting things get to you isn’t enough to keep you afloat in this moment. The previous conversation with Gale, the events from yesterday, and everything else that preceded it are still taking their toll on your mind. You’re not sure whether you feel so physically exhausted because of all the drugging, because of the mental strain, or both.

Using sex to make you forget about your problems is hardly effective. Admittedly, the respites you’ve had from your worries when your doctor used you have felt good, but you’re aware that they’re of little help in the long run. You can’t really convince yourself that it’s going to be okay just with a few moments of pleasure. As it is, you almost gave into the mindset that it could help when you talked to Lav. But even if Gale might possibly be less rough with your body, they definitely aren’t going to make things any better. Their attempt is no more effective than Yosuke’s.

You hear a sudden shutting of a cabinet, and this shakes you out of your thoughts for a moment. Looking to the left, you notice Gale’s grabbed another toy—no doubt for their harness—and a bottle of something translucent and slightly tinted yellow. You’re not sure what it is. The bottle is too large to really be lube.

Gale smiles gently at you and proceeds to walk toward the bed while holding the bottle in one hand, though they leave the flesh-colored toy on the counter. With their other hand, they cup the underside of your chin softly and lift up your head so that you’re facing them directly.

“Please don’t look so upset, kitten,” they croon. “I want to help how I can. I promise I’ll be gentle. We can take things slow if you like.”

You say nothing. Gale drops their hand and puts the bottle down by your pillow. They then step back just a bit, moving to roll their sleeves up to their elbows.

“But I am going to need you to remove your clothes for this,” they mention with a light laugh.

So much for slow.

Despite your sheepish, averting gaze, Gale continues to try working with you to some extent.

“Turn around if you like while you undress, so you don’t feel so uncomfortable. I want you to be face down on the bed anyway. On your stomach.”

You then look up at Gale confusedly. “Why?”

“Please just trust me.”

The smile Gale follows with this statement leaves you uneasy. After the discomfort of their game with the notebooks and the unnerving conversation you had, you’re certain you can’t trust Gale. Even if they were being honest and kind with you, they’re still a doctor.

Although your mind continues to run with everything that’s happened, you give in and do what Gale expects of you. Quietly, you get off the bed and turn around, moving your hands to the bottom of your gown to lift it up by its hem and pull the thing completely off your body. You stand motionless as your skin is exposed to the cold air. However, you hear Gale speak up, their voice still soft.

“Your panties too, kitten. Won’t you?”

This “request” makes you wince, but you slowly move your hands down your hips and pull your underwear off, completely exposing every inch of your body to the doctor behind you.

“Lovely,” is the only thing they say in response to your bareness. You proceed to get on the bed, laying on your stomach with your arms folded underneath your head to support it. As you lay there completely exposed, Gale collects the bottle from by your pillow and lightly drizzles its contents on your back. Because the bottle had been sitting there in the cabinet, whatever drips onto your skin feels slightly cool. The sensation almost makes your body twitch in response, but you’re able to remain still.

“Sorry,” Gale apologizes kindly as you feel their fingertips start to roll and press on your shoulders, followed by their palms. “It works best when it’s warm, but I didn’t exactly have the luxury of preparing it for you beforehand.”

Although the stuff felt cold initially, Gale’s warm touch helps to lessen the frigid feeling on your back now. They continue to work your shoulders and neck with firm rolls and presses, but it’s not the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, it makes your face instinctively flush to be touched like this. You hadn’t expected to feel this whatsoever.

“If you like, you’re welcome to close your eyes and imagine I’m someone else,” Gale invites you with a light laugh, though you’re sure they mean your doctor. You don’t think Yosuke would ever really be the kind of person to give you a massage. This feels too intimate, like some romantic gesture of sorts. For as good as he can feel sometimes, you hardly think of him as romantic. Most of his attempts at being that way have come off as unnerving, even if they had made you stupidly flutter at times.

“Why are you doing this?” You question. It strikes you as strange that Gale’s massaging you like this. You’ve not had any doctor do anything similar to you. Gale presses slightly down your shoulders and back, and the sensation of their rubbing makes you moan just slightly enough for you to feel embarrassed by it.

“Doesn’t it feel good, Kitten?” Gale croons sweetly. “I wanted to relax you first. You seemed tense.”

“Where did you even…learn to do this?” You half-moan, half-grunt as you ask this, blushing as your visitor moves down your back more.

Gale giggles boyishly. “I used to do this for old girlfriends of mine. I actually studied a lot of anatomy and physiology in my off time so I could do it a little better, but I’m far from being a professional masseur.”

You widen your eyes slightly, wanting to turn your head to look at Gale, but feeling too comfortable now to move.

“You used to date…?” This strikes you as odd. You never really thought of the doctors as real people who live their own lives. As it is, you found it odd when Jonathan spoke to you about him and Nathaniel. For some reason, you couldn’t wrap your head around the possibility of the doctors being real people. You’ve only ever known your captors to be as they are here in the facility, so you’re not inclined to see them in any other light. You sometimes don’t even see some of the doctors as human with how they treat you and your friends.

“I dabbled,” Gale answers you openly, though you’re still not sure they’re being genuinely honest with you. Simultaneously, you have no idea what they’d have to gain from lying about themselves. At least, not for details that don’t matter. “I wasn’t really that much of a ladykiller, though. I just got lucky enough to meet a few nice girls. One as a teenager, and two around my early college years.”

“But then you decided you’d rather fuck people without their consent,” you scowl.

“Unfortunate as that may be, I do try to treat you well.”

You grimace at this statement. Jonathan had said something similar about how he and Nathaniel handle you and the other Numbers. You suppose it’s no wonder the three of these doctors seem to get along well enough—they appear to have shared qualities.

Gale presses their hands playfully against a low point on the middle of your back. The motion takes you out of your thoughts and makes you moan slightly again at the sensation of touch in a sensitive area. They then lean in toward your ear and kiss your cheek, causing you to blush more.

“Now don’t talk so much, kitten. I want you to enjoy this.”

You’re left at the mercy of Gale’s touch as they continue to massage your body, rolling their fingers and palms along different parts of your back and shoulders. Despite your earlier hesitancy and lack of desire to go through with your visit, you now find yourself melting in Gale’s hands, unable to think properly as your body is caressed. At some point, you close your eyes and let the doctor work you, too comfortable in their touch to protest further. You almost wish Yosuke would do this with you, but chide yourself for even wanting it.

After a dizzying period of being touched and massaged, Gale soon begins to kiss your cheek more as they hover atop you, occasionally going to your nape as well. With each peck, they go slowly, their lips making soft sucking noises as they pull away from your skin each time. Periodically, Gale breathes and moans subtly in your ear, nipping at its bottom lobe in an attempt to arouse you further. You clench your hands up on the bed as you’re touched and kissed, feeling warmth build in your body with each motion. Your cheeks by now feel almost numb with how furiously blood has rushed to them, and Gale giggles softly in reaction to your evident enjoyment of their touch.

“Relax, kitten,” they coo, giving another sweet kiss of your neck. After making your body melt in their hands, Gale then moves to start massaging even lower down it, moving toward your legs and pressing firmly against your butt and thighs. This sensation causes you to shut your legs, but Gale continues to work you nonetheless.

“Are you shy?” They question sweetly. You say nothing, but shut your eyes and continue to blush. After a moment, Gale finally presses their finger between your legs and slides it along your slit, chuckling when they do.

“Oh kitten, did just my massage make you wet?” They tease you observantly. “You’re so very precious.”

Gale then retracts their hand and leans into your ear, speaking with a low, gentle voice.

“Now wait here, alright? I need to get ready for you.”

You almost miss Gale’s touch when they stop massaging you. You’d rather the whole visit be nothing else but this, though you know that’s an unrealistic desire to have. Still blushing and utterly dizzy, you almost end up falling asleep where you are. It’s not until Gale returns and gently touches your cheek that you notice your mind slipped away from awareness for just a brief moment.

“I know it feels good,” Gale chuckles softly. “But please don’t pass out on me. Okay, kitten?”

As Gale climbs atop the bed and straddles your legs, you remain silent. This is both out of a growing unease, and because your body is far too relaxed for you to even bother protesting. In embarrassment, you feel Gale’s hands starting to spread your thighs, but you don’t try to shut them again when you’ve been opened up for the doctor. Even if you wanted to, they’ve begun to place their body in such a way that their knees are between each leg, blocking any ability to close them anyway. You tremble slightly as their hands trail along your inner thighs lovingly, moving up and down your skin in a sweet way.

Gale says nothing, merely laughing softly at watching you anticipate their penetration. Despite half-expecting their dildo to worm its way inside of you, you’re surprised to find that Gale’s fingers touch you first, but don’t yet enter your body. The white-haired doctor starts to massage your vulva now while gently squeezing your thighs with their other hand. Gale runs their fingers along your slit, then makes gentle circles around the skin of your crotch and labia that somehow feel good and create a titillating sensation in your lower body despite Gale not directly touching your pussy. After you give a light moan in response to this teasing, they finally chuckle again and reach down to toy with your clit.

You’re not at all able to see anything they do, so each strange touch excites you more than it should. This particular touch is no exception, and with your body already feeling so relaxed, you can’t help but moan and clench your fists at the pleasure you’re being given. After a while of circling your clit, Gale then retracts their hand entirely and spreads the folds of your labia open to examine you. Your embarrassment rises exponentially when you hear the wet sounds coming from the skin being toyed with. Even worse is that the doctor is continuing to release and separate your folds playfully as they observe your wetness, making the sound even more prominent.

“You look adorable like this,” Gale teases. “It’s been a while since we got to play alone together, hasn’t it?”

Again, you don’t answer. However, you gasp at the sudden rubbery feeling of the head of Gale’s cock pressing against the entrance of your vagina, though they don’t push it in just yet. Instead, they tease you further by wiggling it around slightly and rubbing your outer thighs. After a moment, Gale trails a finger lightly up your spine, the sensation making you tremble just slightly in response. Once they reach your neck, you feel Gale’s cock push its way into you, though slowly. With how wet you are, you’re able to take the thing without any trouble, though your pussy squeezes tightly around it.

Something about this position makes Gale’s long-drawn and sweet penetration of you feel better than it should, and you end up letting out a lengthy moan and gasp as you take the rubbery cock inside of you. This makes Gale chuckle delightfully, again with a more boyish tone.

“Feel good, kitten?” They tease while your fingers curl more at the sensation of their cock. “I’m glad. I find that people are far more honest when they feel good.”

When the phallus is finally completely in, Gale pulls back slowly before pushing into you again. With how wet your juices have made the thing, it produces a sopping loud noise when it pumps back into you. This again embarrasses you, but you try to bear it.

As promised, the doctor atop you goes slow, bucking their hips with long, sweet strides while you grit your teeth and try to contain your noises. Despite kneeling atop you before, Gale now lays over your body. They steady themself on the bed with one arm bent, their forearm pressed against the mattress. The other arm, however, wraps delicately under your stomach and holds you in place warmly but firmly as you’re pumped into. Gale’s head is now right by yours, and you hear them breathing in your left ear as they thrust gently into you. Occasionally, they let out eager, but subtle moans into your ear. You’re unsure if it’s because they’re deriving pleasure from taking you, or if they’re trying to turn you on.

You whimper with each thrust of Gale’s cock into your pussy, trying to keep your head down and your voice low as you’re ridden with long strides. Every thrust of the rubbery thing into you makes a wet noise that you don’t want to hear, and every stride, despite being gentle, ends with a bit of force. Eventually, Gale’s pace begins to quicken to more of an average one. After a while, you feel the doctor’s hand from between your body and the mattress worm its way further down until their fingers reach your clit. Eagerly, they begin to circle it while continuing to buck against your body, and this causes your noises to grow louder and hard to hide. You groan as you’re taken, making Gale breathe almost as if to laugh.

“Oh, kitten,” they purr, making you blush more. “Do you want to come?”

Your hands clench more as you hear this question, but you can’t bring yourself to deny its implication. You hate admitting that you do want to come, and you know Gale’s going to make you.

As if on cue, the white-haired doctor begins to quicken their pumping pace to a point that the light sopping noises become loud wet slaps against your skin. This sudden increase in speed makes your moans turn into groans and gasps. You end up lifting your head up to breathe better, but doing this causes Gale to take their free arm and move it up to your face. Using nothing but their elbow to steady themself, Gale starts to stick their fingers in your mouth, caressing your wet tongue and toying with it between their digits while you endure the wet sensations of their thrusting into your body.

“Oh, sweet little kitten,” Gale moans into your ear, breathing as they do. “Won’t you come for me?”

They give your ear a little lick, making your entire body shiver with more pleasure. You can’t bring yourself to take any more of this, and soon you find yourself giving into Gale entirely. The walls of your pussy tighten around the doctor’s rubbery cock as you start to climax, and your fists tighten around the sheets beneath you. You let out a loud series of gasps as you continue to be pumped into, letting your body take a pounding while you come desperately. In the midst of your pleasure, you yelp and yell loudly into Gale’s fingers on your tongue, your noises somewhat muffled and distorted as they vibrate into the doctor’s hand.

Once your climax ends, Gale merely giggles and kisses your nape. They retract their hand from your clit and mouth entirely before pulling out of you. As everything slows down, you let your head fall back onto your arms, sucking in air as you take large, long breaths.

“Did I make you feel good, kitten?” Gale questions with a sweet voice, speaking low into your ear. You want to respond bitterly to them, but can’t bring yourself to answer right now. Your expression scrunches and morphs into one of frustration as your face remains hidden in your folded arms. You only want to be let go. Everything you felt earlier will return to you the moment this visit ends, no matter how relaxed your body feels now. You know this for certain.

Suddenly, you feel Gale’s hands place themselves gently on your shoulders. The start pulling to you the side slightly to guide you on your back. As you turn, the doctor moves their legs around so that they can reposition you more easily without having to get up. Once you’re completely flat on your back, Gale again straddles you, their rubbery cock pressing against your slit as they press their weight against your body.

“You’re looking at me like you’re upset,” they pretend to frown as if offended. “If you’re still feeling that way, I’ll have to keep going until you calm down.”

“Then I’m fine,” you lie, pouting as you regain your senses. Gale’s fake frown turns back into a smile as they give a bit of an amused laugh. Without hesitation, they lean forward and kiss you gently on your lips before pulling away.

“You’re a bad liar, Ten,” they coo. “But that’s okay. I’ll work with you until you’re better.”

“You can’t make me feel better,” you assert, shaking your head. “Even if my body reacts, that’s only temporary.”

“Then you should enjoy it while you can, kitten,” Gale giggles as they take your chin in their fingers and press again against your mouth to stop you from talking further. Any attempts you make to turn your head are met with firm resistance from the doctor’s grip on you. As your lips are made theirs, you feel Gale slowly thrusting their cock against your slit, moving gently back and forth with the tip pressing against your clit at the end of each forward push. You whimper into their mouth as they buck and hump against you sweetly, all the while curling your fingers around the sheets as you endure each motion.

After a while, Gale’s kisses begin to make you feel dizzy. Before you have a chance to bask in the bliss it brings you in conjunction to the stimulation of your clit as you’re lightly humped, you endure an unexpected sensation. After Gale pulls away as if to thrust against you again, they instead decide to move their cock down and into your hole. Though you’re able to take it without issue with how wet you already are from your previous use, the sudden entry still makes you gasp, with breath entering and exiting through your nose. In response to this penetration and trying to remember that you don’t want to deal with this, you try to push Gale away with your hands. However, they stop you.

The white-haired doctor wraps their hands around your wrists and gently pins you down, not being too physically forceful while simultaneously asserting their place above you. Again, Gale giggles in amusement as you begin to struggle. You find quite quickly that their grasp is far stronger than you’d expected. You start to muffledly moan in protest and frustration, causing Gale to pull away from your lips for just a moment.

“Oh, Kitten…” They coo. “I promise I’m not trying to hurt you. There’s no need to fight so much. You were so very relaxed just before, weren’t you?”

“Please, just let go,” you beg with a low voice, looking at Gale eagerly. They merely smile sweetly at you and lean into your ear.

“You first.”

After saying this, the doctor begins to buck their hips against you, beginning to fuck you yet again in a way you’re familiar with. You let out whimpers as they ride you, your hands tightening as if grasping at nothing in particular. Not wanting to have to look at Gale atop your body, you shut your eyes and try to pretend they’re not there watching you while you’re taken. Periodically, you hear light moans and grunts escape their lips, though you try to contain your noises yourself as you had tried to before.

Gale goes at a sweet, steady pace, but thrusts deeply into you with each motion. Although you do a good job at keeping quiet at first, you eventually start to gasp with each pump into your pussy, embarrassed yet again by the loud, wet noises each meeting of skin produces.

“It’s alright to cry out if you really want to,” Gale speaks up between their thrusts and pants. “You’re free to do as you like.”

“That’s…not true!” you grunt. “You people hardly ever give me a choice!”

Despite your biting words, you immediately gasp after speaking them as Gale presses their cock deeper into you in another sopping thrust. You tilt your head back and try to grit your teeth, groaning as you’re fucked more and more and feeling your toes curl slowly as Gale’s pace starts to pick up. You refuse to open your eyes again, fearing that you’ll only see the doctor’s icy blue eyes staring intently back at you.

In spite of your persistent stubbornness, you eventually can’t take the pleasure any longer, and soon your noises become far more vocal and evident than they were prior. Your moans and groans become louder, your pants more forceful, and your whimpers far higher. Gale giggles boyishly yet again as they observe your reactions, their fingers curling firmly around your wrists as they begin to quicken their pace even more.

You feel nothing but Gale’s cock sliding in and out, in and out of you eagerly. They don’t fuck you anywhere near as forcefully as others, but they’re still firm enough with your body for you to feel like you’re losing control of it entirely. When Gale finds just the right spot, speed, and pace to pump into you with, you begin to yelp between your slew of other noises. Noticing this, the doctor continues to use the same motions to please you. Between their panting, they lean in and speak gently in your ear,

“I’m going to count down from ten, kitten. When I reach one, I want you to let go. Okay?”

You can only continue to gasp and whimper in response, but Gale assumes you understand them and begins to count, using a low, sweet voice.

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”

Your fists begin to clench as your pleasure builds incrementally. Something about this countdown is guiding your body to react in tune with it, even though you don’t know why.

“…Six…five…four…”

Gale leans even closer now, their breath hitting the side of your face as you’re forced to hear every bit of their pants and moans.

“…three…two…”

They kiss your cheek and whisper,

“…one.”

Your body can no longer take any more of Gale’s pumps. A high pleasure wells within you, one you can’t seem to control. You eventually find yourself letting go and reciprocating Gale’s thrusts, panting and crying out wildly, and opening your eyes wide as you’re taken. Your fists tighten, and you throw your head back in delightful agony as you’re ridden while the white-haired doctor laughs gently at you. Evidently, your pleasurable reactions amuse Gale atop you, as they give a wide, coy smile while still breathing in sharply and heavily. However, you’re unable to react to this negatively now. You mindlessly want to beg Gale to stop in reaction to feeling something you hadn’t wanted to earlier, but can only produce more cries and gasps as you finish up, eventually slowing down into a silent whimper. When you can’t endure any more, you sink back into the bed, sucking in air through your mouth while your bare chest rises and falls.

Despite it having felt good to be fucked, a frustration starts to well in you now, replacing the pleasure you just held moments ago. Your face scrunches up and grows hot and red as you continue to let your negative emotions rise. Not once did you want to deal with this now when everything had hit you at once just before. You’re scared of dying, angry at yourself for letting your body and all the sensations brought upon it take control of everything, and mournful of all the people who have to suffer through this like you. You’re tired of doing this. You don’t want to face this sadness, this fear, this anger. You just want to go home, but you don’t even know where that is or if you have one.

In moments, tears begin to stream from your eyes and end up falling down the sides of your face toward your ears and neck, since you’re still laying on your back. You want to wipe them away, but your wrists are still pinned to the mattress. However, when Gale sees you starting to sob, they smile warmly at you and release your wrists entirely. You don’t immediately move, still too wrapped up in your crying to react right away. Seeing this, Gale gently raises a hand to your face and wipes away some of your tears with the backs of a few fingers.

“Very good,” They speak lowly with a sweet smile still on their lips. “You did very good, Ten. What do you feel now?”

“I don’t know,” you sob, shutting your eyes. The feeling you have is hard to accurately place, but you’re left in a state of utter helplessness as you lay there. “I’m angry and sad and tired all at once.”

Gale presses their palm against your cheek, cupping it warmly and not seeming to mind that your tears are falling into their fingers as they linger on your skin.

“Despair,” they say without hesitation. “What you’re feeling is despair.”

“What does knowing do to alleviate it?” You demand to know, your voice shaking. You open your eyes again and look straight at Gale’s icy gaze. “All it does is make me self-aware of it. It makes it worse.”

“If you can name it, you can work toward overcoming it,” the doctor atop you answers gently. “You can learn to accept it.”

“I don’t want to.”

Gale laughs lightly. “You have to, kitten. You ought to listen to me. I’m only trying to help.”

They then slowly pull out of your body, making you whimper slightly. You’d almost forgotten they were even still inside you to begin with.

“Now, now, it seems you’ve made a mess,” Gale teases gently, looking down at your wet pussy. “I’d better clean it up.”

You’re shaken from your tears as you feel Gale move themselves back down the bed. They move to lift your legs, spreading them open with each of your ankles in their hands.

“Please stop,” your voice shakes as you beg. “You see me crying, yet you’re going to do this anyway?”

Gale smiles.

“I’m doing this because you’re crying, Ten,” they explain. “I want to make you feel good by bowing my head to you now. Think of it as a reward for your little breakthrough. You understand how you feel now. But if you just let me, I can replace that despair with pleasure, even if only for a moment.”

“You already tried that and all it did was make me feel worse,” you shoot back angrily. “If you really respected me and cared about me, you’d stop.”

“Shall I tell you I don’t respect you?” Gale frowns, sincerely this time. “Is that what you want to hear?”

"Of course not. But I know it’s the truth.”

Gale’s frown again turns upward into a smile. “Do you? You must be so delusional to think that I hate you, Ten.”

They then give your thigh a kiss.

“You’re fascinating,” they boyishly chuckle. “You Numbers really are something.”

Without letting you speak further, Gale leans in to start tonguing at your clit, occasionally moving downward toward your pussy to lap up your juices from earlier. Though your tears had started to slow, they now completely halt as you’re forced to endure another bout of pleasure. You try to reach over to push Gale away, but with how they’ve angled your legs, you can’t quite reach. Knowing that you can’t do anything to stop this from happening, you lay back and close your eyes, woefully awaiting your body to respond to the stimulation so that you can be freed for the day.

Gale continues to circle and flick at your clit with their warm, wet tongue, holding your body hostage in its touch while cupping your ankles in their hands. You clench your fists, which are still raised by the side of your head, and start to moan again as your lust builds against your will. Occasionally, the doctor moves their mouth downward to suck and lick at your juices inside your pussy, but remains primarily affixed to your clit to make sure you feel good. With each moan you let slip out of your mouth, Gale giggles breathily, knowing that they’re making you squirm with their touch.

Soon, your body responds to the wet tonguing eagerly, and you feel a jolt of pleasure strike your lower half. Despite not wanting to come again, you start to. Your hanging feet start to curl their toes, your fists clench even more, and your voice loudens. You start to pant and whimper more and more as you come until your throat lets out long, loud moans and groans. Gale picks up their tonguing pace as you come, making sure that you feel every ounce of ecstasy. After giving one final grunt, your body finally calms down, and you’re left lying breathless on the bed with your legs trembling.

Smiling in satisfaction at your reaction, Gale drops your legs and finally lets you rest. They move to climb off the bed, going back to the counter to clean themselves off and change out the dildo on their harness while you recover from everything physically. You end up closing your eyes as you lay on the bed, embarrassed, frustrated, and tired all at once. Though you’re no longer crying, you still feel what you had before, even if to a lesser extent with the bodily distraction.

After a moment of reprieve, you soon feel Gale’s presence hovering over you. When you wearily open your eyes again, you see a syringe in their hand. You suppose by this sight that the drug in your room has been restocked since your visit with Jonathan. This doesn’t necessarily please you, though. Needles aren’t exactly something you look forward to.

Despite the cold color in their icy eyes as they watch you on the bed, Gale continues to smile warmly. And, despite your hesitance to feel another needle in your body, you gladly welcome this one when you actually think on it a moment. Ever since this day started, you wanted only to leave it behind and return to your friends. So, you obediently let yourself be guided by Gale’s hands so that they can inject you with the anesthetic. At first, they hover over your neck with the syringe’s needle, but pause a moment when assessing your slightly hesitant reaction toward it, one you don’t even realize you’re giving off. So, rather than using your neck, Gale moves toward your arm and opts to inject the drug into it instead.

“Why there?” You mindlessly ask, wincing as you feel Gale’s fingers massage the area on your arm and stick the needle in just after.

“It’s a feasible injection site,” they explain casually. “Injecting this into the neck is a fairly common practice, but it’s also a dangerous place to do it and really is only done by people who know what they’re doing. I know the body enough to do it there, but some of us don’t or still worry we’ll mess it up. But, you can put it in the arm too. The point is to get it into a vein.”

They finish plunging the drug into your body and pull the needle out of your flesh. You recall feeling your arm sore once after waking up in the gardens, and that you’d assumed Yosuke injected you there. You again mindlessly mention this to Gale, who looks at you with a thoughtful face.

“Hm, I suppose Yosuke wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you,” They mumble aloud, pondering the idea. “Doctor Chisaka really likes you enough not to want to hurt you much, Ten. But I’m sure you already know.”

Much?

“Why did it have to be him I was stuck with?” You question, clutching your now-sore upper arm. “Why is he so fascinated with me?”

“Because you’re fascinating,” Gale compliments you while smiling warmly. Their demeanor has seemed to change from what it was just before. For the better, you admit. Their uncomfortable assertiveness during their use of you almost reminded you of Yosuke’s.

After discarding the used syringe into a nearby trashcan, Gale promptly returns to the side of your bed. They extend a hand to your head and begin to caress your cheek with the back of it.

“Now, Ten, I want you to think very hard about what happened today,” they prompt you. “And everything I told you. I want you to feel better, but it’s imperative that you take to heart what I said and what you experienced.”

“You said a lot of things,” you mutter. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“I want you to remember my warnings,” Gale clarifies with a slightly firmer voice. “Everything will return to normal if you take them and any other warnings you’ve been given seriously.”

They smile and give a light laugh.

“But, you’re welcome to remember everything else I said if you like.”

You frown, but suppose that you have no choice but to keep quiet about what you experienced. You want to tell your friends at least, but aren’t sure how you’d go about doing so without sparking any suspicion. You’re certain they can keep secrets, but you start to wonder whether the doctors’ boss has cameras around the recreational areas as well as in the hallways. You aren’t even sure they’re in the halls to begin with, but you can’t bring yourself to say there aren’t after the incident with Mom.

“Gale,” you suddenly call out with a weakening voice. “Why are you here? You seemed to have had a better life before this. You were in school, dating, enjoying yourself. Why come here at all?”

The white-haired doctor stops petting your cheek a moment, almost frowning as they do.

“Kitten, I didn’t exactly have the best of times out there,” they explain, dropping their hand. “I suppose I don’t blame you for not knowing, but it’s not exactly easy to blend in out in the real world when you’re someone like me. I was good at what I did, but I had to play a role I didn’t want to. Here, I can be who I want to be. Myself. Without consequence or hindrances.”

They sigh.

“But I didn’t know this place existed. I can at least say that much without repercussions. I wasn’t explicitly seeking this out. I was brought here.”

You widen your eyes.

“Do you mean…kidnapped?” You ask with concern. Gale stops talking a moment, looking at you with focus as if thinking on this unusual question. Their hesitance puts you off, but Gale does not let the silence linger long before eventually shaking their head subtly as if to recollect their thoughts. Their casually joyful expression returns, and they laugh slightly at your suggestion.

“What a silly thing to say. No, Ten. I was sought out,” they clarify, now moving to pet your head. “But that’s all you get to know. I won’t have my boss breathing down my neck for misspeaking. He has a few times in the past. Most of us make little mistakes when we’re new here. And some of us make mistakes on purpose, like Momma.”

“How would your boss even find out about what you say in here if there aren’t cameras in these rooms?” You question, remembering Yosuke telling you there weren’t any in the examination rooms. You’re hoping Gale affirms this for you, but they seem to ignore the bait.

“He always finds things out,” they explain. “One way or another. He oversees most everything, you know. But don’t think about it too much. You’ve got enough to deal with at the moment. You should focus on yourself for once and work toward overcoming these feelings of yours. I think we made progress toward helping your stress about what happened, but it’s clear you still have a bit of hesitancy toward the whole thing. Unsurprisingly so. You’ll come around though. I promise.”

“And what if I don’t?” you ask worriedly, feeling your head growing lighter but wanting to keep focused now that you’re in the midst of a conversation. “I watched a girl die. Even if I can accept that fact and keep quiet, I still have to remember it. Unless you’d like to make me forget. I know for sure you people have the means to make that happen.”

“It’s not that simple,” Gale shakes their head. “I wish I could be open with you about these things. I personally believe it would make life much easier. But it’s not something I’m at liberty to talk about. I honestly don’t even know much about how it works myself. I’m not a drug expert.”

“But you’re a doctor.” You’re again reminded of Jonathan saying the same thing. It’s strange to you that some doctors don’t know much about the very thing this facility is meant to be used for.

Gale shrugs. “There are many kinds of doctors, you know. Some of us are weak in certain fields where others excel.”

They pause a brief moment as if thinking on something, then sigh.

“Well, if you’re so adamant on being open about this with someone and won’t listen to me, perhaps you ought to ask One about how he’s dealt with this on a long-term basis. I’m only trying to help you in the now. What you experienced was difficult enough and new enough to you that you needed something immediately.”

You raise a brow, hyperfocused on the mention of Cyrus. “You know about him…?”

“I know a little bit about everybody,” Gale answers honestly. “But then again, most doctors know a little bit about everybody. Me, I prefer girls, but every so often I may see a boy as well. If I’m so inclined. I’m very familiar with One for that reason.”

You look away after hearing this, but the doctor before you tries to be reassuring.

“He’s a kindhearted young man, Ten. Like my Six, he’s very grounded. That’s partly why I mentioned him at all.”

Gale again pauses for a moment, trying to gather their thoughts, or perhaps contemplating something. You’re unable to tell. They eventually continue speaking.

“…You’re dependent on the other Numbers, Ten. So, if you’re going to be that way and won’t be as open with us, look to him for advice on this particular issue you’re dealing with.”

They lower their brows.

“Just be careful. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

You take in these words carefully, but say nothing more after this. The anesthetic soon starts to affect you further and further until you’re woozy and unresponsive. Seeing your exhausted state, Gale leans down to kiss you again.

“Take care, kitten. I’ll see you some other time.”

This statement is all you hear before you stop processing anything more.

---

You’re not sure for how long you sleep, but your body still feels somewhat sleepy when you finally come back into consciousness. Immediately, you notice that you’ve been returned to the bedroom. Yours, this time. The rose color is unmistakable.

Despite your grievances with everything that’s happened, you sink eagerly into the cool, light sheets, happy to be in some kind of comfort. However, you’re taken aback suddenly by muffled sounds coming from somewhere you can’t yet discern. Trying to find the source, you sit up attentively and move your head about until you’re able to gather that they’re coming from outside your door.

Curious, you step out of the comfort of your bed and creep quietly toward the bedroom entrance. Unsurprisingly, the metal door doesn’t open, but your suspicions are confirmed when you hear the muffled voices a little more clearly now. It’s hard to make out what’s being said from where you are, but you end up pressing your ear to the door in the hopes that you can hear better. Doing this helps immensely, though you end up having to strain and think hard to make out everything clearly. You’re able to gather, however, that there are two distinct voices. One is Gale’s, and the other is Yosuke’s.

“…A bit jumbled at the moment, but she should be fine in time,” you hear Gale mentioning. You assume, then, that the two are talking about you. “I’d like more time, but I guess that’s not practical. She knows not to say anything at least.”

“To us,” Yosuke’s muffled voice answers them. “We can’t help what happens among the others. But I suppose we’ll see how things go.”

“I also showed her the journal,” Gale mentions. “She read it as expected. She pries a bit more than she should, I think.”

“Not surprising. Should I be concerned about any reaction in particular?”

“No. I think she understood the consequences. Maybe I scared her a little, but enough to possibly lead her in the right direction. Keep an eye on her though. I tried to do a few small things you would have for familiarity’s sake, but she was very vehemently resistant against me regardless. There’s a few things she held from me as well, but I’m not too concerned.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Yosuke gives his gratitude. “I’m sure it wasn’t exactly fun for you to do.”

Gale sighs. “Not precisely, but I didn’t do too much like you. I respect you, Yosuke, but I’m not fond of your methods. Though, I know that’s hardly my business.”

“There are far worse methods.”

“I’m aware. Still, it almost scares me to think I could even pull them off,” Gale sighs.

Hearing this shakes you slightly. Gale tried to mimic your doctor? You’d thought so during your visit when they started acting strangely, but you didn’t think it was on purpose. This doesn’t really sit well with you, but admittedly it almost makes you feel better knowing that Gale didn’t even want to wholly be the way they were with you. Even so, you know they’re still untrustworthy. If they really hadn’t wanted to do it, they wouldn’t have, right?

“But you’re a good actor, aren’t you?”

“Watch that,” Gale’s tone becomes slightly firmer as they say this, but they lighten up just after. “Blame our thespians for my knack in mimicry. In any case, I may have failed to reach your Number as much as I intended. She seems at least to know to behave and watch herself, but she was unsurprisingly adamant that she only open up wholly to her friends. Granted, she’s a bit on edge after what happened, so I don’t expect her to ease into this all. Boss is pretty uptight about it himself, I’m sure.”

You hear Yosuke give a subtle laugh, brushing this off. “I’ve never known him to be scared. He knows what to do.”

“I guess so,” Gale gives a sigh. “But I’m not fond of all the paperwork even after doing it for so long. I don’t know how you manage.”

“Stress can easily be relieved here,” is Yosuke’s only reply. “Have you forgotten?”

This makes Gale laugh lightly. “I suppose. Anyway, what did he say to you?”

“He told me everything that happened. Not much else to speak of.”

“What, no small talk?”

“Hardly,” Yosuke gives a chuckle of his own. “We talked briefly about other things, but I’d hardly consider our meeting a friendly conversation.”

“He ought to loosen up,” Gale jokingly remarks. “Anyway, I have work to do, and so do you. I’d better go. If you need me to help you deal with her, let me know. You know where I’ll be.”

They pause a moment.

“And do be careful. Whatever it is you’re going to do. You didn’t exactly look thrilled when you came back.”

“I’ll handle it. I know how to work her.”

You hear silence for a moment, followed by a sigh from Gale.

“Just don’t do anything stupid. You’ve seen where that gets you.”

Yosuke says nothing at all in response, continuing to stay where he is while you hear Gale’s footsteps start up and promptly fade away. Hearing this indication of the conversation’s end, you quietly and briefly gasp, then rush to hurry back to your bed in the case that your doctor tries to enter your room. You’d prefer he not see you eavesdropping.

There’s hardly any time to reflect on this conversation. As expected, you hear your room door open shortly after you’ve settled back under your comforter. You try to pretend you’re asleep, and in moments you feel your doctor’s familiar hand gently petting your head. It displeases you to have to endure this without reacting, but you remain motionless and let the man touch you.

“I don’t much like being spied on, Ten,” Yosuke’s voice shakes you so suddenly as you hear it right in your ear. Your eyes open wide, and this lets you notice that your doctor has leaned forward with his mouth hovering just above your ear. When you’ve revealed your awareness to him, Yosuke pulls away and looks down at you with his olive eyes, his face stern and unamused. “You weren’t supposed to be awake this soon.”

“I didn’t hear much,” you try to promise him, fearing any repercussions. You’re in no mood to deal with any right now. “I just heard the end of it.”

Yosuke says nothing at first, merely looking on at you observantly with his expression locked in its stern state. However, he eventually speaks up.

“Did you enjoy today?” Despite this light question, your doctor’s tone remains firm and unpleasant. You move to sit up and hold your arms. Unsure of how to answer in a cohesive way, you merely shake your head slowly.

“How unfortunate,” Yosuke closes his eyes a moment as if in contemplation, then opens them again. “I can’t say I’m shocked that you disliked it. But, I highly suggest you listen to what you were told.”

Your doctor seems strangely cold right now, you notice. You look up at him hesitantly and still see him staring with his focused look. He’s not being the least bit playful the way he usually is. Even though Yosuke had such a light conversation with Gale just a moment ago, he seems completely different now that he’s alone with you. You wonder whether he’s been genuinely put off by your eavesdropping, but you simultaneously recall seeing him brush off worse. You’re not sure what to make of this.

“Are…are you mad at me?” You directly question in hurt, though you have no clue why your doctor being upset with you makes you feel this way. Yosuke merely laughs subtly to himself, just barely enough for it to put you off entirely. Despite this, he remains silent and does not answer your question. He instead walks off toward your bedroom door, but lingers in front of it for just a moment while you look on at him with concern.

“Go to sleep,” Yosuke tells you. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yosuke, why-“ You try to reach out to him for answers, but your doctor leaves you without letting you finish. You hear the door lock shortly after he’s left your sight, though you don’t feel any better now that he’s gone like you often do.

In frustration, you put a hand to your forehead and give a long, tired exhale. You then begin to worry about why your doctor might be mad at all. You almost wish he’d tried to console you after what happened, but it seems something’s set him off, unless he’s toying with you like he usually does. You’re too frazzled to think properly about it now. It also disheartens you to know that he’s likely going to keep you from your friends as well—you’d so hoped to return to them tomorrow.

Annoyed with this thought, your mind instead wanders back to today and the unpleasantness of dealing with Gale. Having overheard them and Yosuke in the hall didn’t do much to make you feel any better either. You suppose it was right to think that Gale was playing some kind of game by letting you read Six’s old journal. You’re insulted that they said you pried too much. It shouldn’t be surprising that you would when there’s so much to understand that you just can’t. Certainly, you’re not the only curious person there.

Beyond that, hearing that their gesture was meant to be seen as a warning initially struck you as odd, though you admit now that reading the unfinished entry about Jade that mentioned the previous Ten did put you off. Should you persist in asking the wrong questions, you presume that you’ll end up just like him—a redacted memory. Perhaps you already knew this was a risk, but seeing evidence of it so blatantly only makes it worse, and the risk far more real.

You’d suspected the Numbers’ memory of the previous Ten was altered, but the journal only confirms it. The reason this was done at all, though, is one you can’t fathom. Still, you admit you’re afraid of the possibility of being forgotten. If Gale was trying to scare you by showing you the consequences of being careless, they succeeded. You’re afraid to die, but equally as horrifying is the idea of being left behind and lost to time, with nobody to remember you. As it is, you don’t remember anything about who you were, and nobody else here does either. If anyone in the world outside of the facility misses you, you’d never know. This place and the Numbers are all you have left. Memories of people once known are all you can keep in a place like this. It’s horrid to think that can be lost.

You wonder if the other Letters will get to remember Jay. Had they known she planned to run? Do they feel abandoned by her leaving on her own like that? What she was like with her group, and what were the others in her group like? Are there a lot of them? Even not knowing a thing about them, simply having something in common with this group of people as someone victimized by the facility like them makes you feel connected. You wonder if you and Jay would have been friends, should you have been taken to that group rather than the one you know now. What would your letter have been? Would the others have named each other by color as well as by letter? You’re not sure.

Thinking of Jay only reminds you of both men you saw in the hall, and envisioning them now makes you shudder. You hope you never have to see them again. Gale had mentioned it’s never a good sign when they have to show up, so you’re certain now more than ever that it’s in your best interest to avoid being met with them again. Even then, this was all just incidental. If not for the confrontation between Violet and Cyrus, you’d never have walked into that hallway to begin with. If not for Violet…

No, it’s wrong of you to blame her for what happened. It was all just chance. Thinking on her now, however, makes you wonder how she got to where she is currently. Reading Six’s entry about her only confirmed Violet has always been somewhat negative, and the kind of person to push others away. Even in small moments where she displayed kindness and gratitude, she would always return to her negative state. You’ve been told that she isn’t too bad, but everything you’ve seen of her lately has been purely awful, especially since her insecurities have led her to believe you’re intentionally stealing someone away from her that she cherishes. You have no idea how she came to attach herself to Cyrus, nor when or why. You’re sure you won’t know anytime soon. For all you know, she’s still sulking and trying to make sense of what happened. In spite of your anger at her treating you poorly, you really sympathize with her and wish for her to recover from this. Ultimately, you hope she’ll be okay. Perhaps you’ll find out tomorrow, assuming Yosuke takes you to the hall at all after whatever it is he plans to do. Even if she refuses to speak to you for a long while, at least seeing her around once will be enough to assuage you.

As you remember Six’s notebook again, you look over at your desk curiously. You shift out of your bed, swinging your legs over the side of it so that you can stand up. After rising, you head to the desk and push the chair aside, ignoring the memory of Yosuke sitting in it that pops up in your mind as you do so. As you reach over to open the drawer of the desk, your heart begins to beat faster for reasons you’re not sure, and your hand trembles just slightly until it meets the handle. But, almost to your relief, there is nothing in the drawer whatsoever.

Perhaps Gale gave the notebook to Six themself. You'd almost thought they gave them to everyone given how they spoke of writing and being open. Though, the fact that they read your friend’s thoughts and feelings is horrendously invasive. You’re glad Six at least became wise to it fairly quickly and started being careful of what she said—to a point, anyway. Despite vowing to be careful, she seemed to fling around nicknames and feelings far more casually toward the last entry. Perhaps she became too accustomed to Gale in a way you wouldn’t since they aren’t your doctor. You personally couldn’t bear to know that you were being spied on like that. Cameras are one thing, but to prey on the thoughts of someone through the words they write for themselves, for the things they do for themselves…that’s horrible. The fact that Six even handled it so easily makes you a little jealous that she’s able to be so casual about these things.

Admittedly, though, it was strangely not hard to be open with Gale even if you hadn’t wanted to be. With your own doctor, you are ever-biting, always hesitant even when you eventually give into him. At least, in Six’s room, you seemed to be far too honest about how you felt and what you experienced, even if you did tell half-truths for some things. For as nice as Gale tries to be, you know they can’t be trusted any more than any other doctor. It vexes you to think that they were being tricky with you the way Yosuke often is. Perhaps the two share similar interests. With the way they interacted in the hall, it could be possible. It’s also strange how Gale mentioned their interest in seeing how people respond to their environments. You wonder whether that means they keep an eye on all the other Numbers somehow. Is it their job to do so? Or do they merely do it out of fascination?

This thought makes your mind linger back to Gale’s mention of Five and Six. You suppose it’s interesting to know that Gale didn’t pay attention to their colors. However, you remember the doctor also mentioning they’d been acquainted with the other girls before Six ever came. This strikes you as highly strange now. Did they mean to say everyone but Five? If Gale had known Five beforehand, then they wouldn’t have chosen the same color for Six. Perhaps Gale merely misspoke before or was being too literal. You try to remember Five and Six discussing the supposed mixup back in the pool, and it’s when you really think hard on it that you realize they’d implied Gale must have just forgotten that someone was already wearing the color the doctor used. You realize then that if this means they knew, it also means Gale lied to you entirely about it. You know this shouldn’t surprise you, but it’s not the lying that causes your unease to rise.

You backpedal in your earlier conversation with the doctor and remember them mentioning something strange before in remark to your supposed dependency on the numbers.

“Proximity and sameness are, after all, very big factors in attachment”, they’d said

This causes you freeze up, unable to move. You realize with certainty then that Gale had known about Five and Six from the very beginning. You don’t suppose that they’d be motivated enough to hurt the girls by pairing them off fetishistically like Mom had with you and Cyrus, but you realize quite quickly that it’s likely not a sexual interest they’re after. Gale had mentioned their fascination with people’s reaction to their environment. Perhaps they found pleasure in watching you today, or any other day they’d seen you. If so, then they could very easily find the same pleasure in watching the two girls interact.

A hand slowly reaches up to your mouth as you start to think that Gale not only knew about Five’s color, and not only likely knows that she and Six are a couple, but that it’s possible the doctor even counted on the two becoming closer by giving them the same color.

You want to believe that this is just you overthinking things, but after having spoken to Gale today and having dealt with their strange games and words, you can’t shake the thought at all. Are they really so cruel as to set this up just to observe the girls’ behavior? Gale had mentioned they’re always around Five, almost as often as they are their own number. It seems they’re always close to both girls, then. Close enough to keep an eye on them, always.

You shut your eyes thinking of this. If it’s really possible that Five and Six’s relationship is only some kind of setup for the sake of fulfilling some fascination or curiosity, then it’s in your best interest never to let the girls know about it. You’re sure they deserve to know, but telling them would only spoil what they have. You suppose, like Cyrus, you have to sacrifice the truth just a little bit so that they can be happy. As it is, you still have to live with knowing about Two and Three’s relationship, but even that you were able to accept in time. You wonder, though, if Gale had something to do with them too or not. Even if they didn’t, they’d certainly still find fascination in observing it. They’d even said the Numbers were fascinating.

If this is all truly part of Gale’s little game, you wonder whether they’d intentionally said everything just to mess with you. Did they count on you coming to this conclusion? With what they did using Six’s notebook, with mimicking your doctor, and with getting you to open up to them, you have no idea what to think anymore. You can’t place any of this properly. You have too much to think of as it is.

Despite clinging somewhat to the hope that Gale wasn’t so awful after you heard them say how uncomfortable acting like Yosuke made them, coming to this realization now further tarnishes your image of them. You’d believe they’re that evil in spite of their kind and gentle demeanor.

All of the doctors are.

Chapter 44: Visit Twenty One - Discovered

It was difficult to fall back asleep easily after coming to terms with everything that happened in your conversation with Gale previously, and with what happened the day before then. Now, you find yourself shaking awake suddenly. You hadn’t really even realized you fell asleep to begin with. To some extent, it feels as though you blinked and transported to another room.

As you come back to awareness, you feel a pain in your shoulders. When you focus on your body and move it around, you realize your arms are up in the air above you, tied at the wrists by black rope. Moreover, you’ve been stripped down yet again, with nothing but your panties remaining. Without the bright white light piercing your eyes immediately when you open them, it dawns on you that you’re not in your usual examination room. No, you’re back in the strange dungeon-esque room like before. Your body isn’t wholly suspended, though you’re just barely able to touch the floor with the bottoms of your feet to support some of your weight.

It’s unclear for how long you’ve been in this position, but your shoulders and upper arms are already a tinge sore. Seeing the familiar dark floor beneath you and the bright white lights of the ceiling makes your heart beat faster. You try to look down at the scar on your chest, and notice that it’s still fairly evident upon your skin, but certainly almost closed up and faded by now. You’re sure that it still being present wouldn’t stop Micah anyway, but you’re almost relieved to find that it’s not him in the room with you when you hear a familiar voice call out from somewhere behind you.

“You slept in again, Ten,” it says. “You have a knack for doing so, it seems.”

You shudder suddenly when you recognize the voice as your doctor’s. You start wondering why you’re in this room with Yosuke when he hardly takes you outside of your bedroom anymore. With how coldly he treated you before you passed out again, you’re sure that he has to have brought you here because he’s angry at you.

“Are you going to stay quiet?” Yosuke asks dryly, still from somewhere behind you. You can hear the sounds of something being put down on the counter that you can’t identify, and for some reason this makes you even more fearful of what might be coming. You’re not sure what to really say, but you don’t want to make Yosuke any more upset than he might be.

“Why am I here?” Is all you manage to ask, your voice shaking. You can’t understand why you feel so nervous. Perhaps it’s the memory of being here that’s putting you off, or the coldness in your doctor’s eyes from yesterday coupled with his coldness now. Even as he approaches you from behind and makes his way in front of your body, leaving just a few inches of space between it and his, Yosuke looks none too pleased. Certainly, nowhere near as angry as he seemed with Mom, but not at all lively like he usually is. By now, he’d have teased you and addressed you warmly.

Your eyes flicker nervously from your doctor’s uncoated frame and rolled up sleeves to his hand, where a syringe is held. It’s one you’re able to tell is far smaller than the ones typically used on you, but it still makes you uneasy to see it nonetheless. Whatever’s in the thing is translucent, but has a tint of color you can’t make out from here.

“W-what is that?” You question nervously while beginning to shift your legs around.

“If you don’t stay still, I’m going to have to tie your legs together,” Yosuke ignores your question. You gulp slightly, but do as told and try to relax your body. Saying nothing, your doctor grabs one of your legs and raises it up just enough for your thigh to be at his stomach level and easy to reach. He brings his other hand to your outer thigh, using his thumb and forefinger to firmly squeeze and massage the area.

“I-is it going to hurt?” You ask hesitantly.

“No,’ is the sudden response you receive. “I won’t physically hurt you unless I have to.”

Physically…?

When he’s finished prepping the area, Yosuke pricks your thigh with the needle and pushes the plunger of the syringe down to pump its contents into you. Now that you’re able to see the thing more clearly, you notice that whatever is inside the syringe has a translucent red tint to it, one so barely noticeable you almost don’t catch it right away. The shot stings as usual, but you feel yourself welling with too much fear at what your doctor is going to do for the sensation to bother you now.

Once the injection is done, Yosuke pulls the needle out of your flesh and discards the thing somewhere on the floor. As he drops your leg, you don’t immediately feel any different beyond sore at the injection site, but you’re not sure what to expect.

“Y-Yosuke, what was that?” You ask again, your body trembling.

“Did Gale treat you well?” Yosuke again avoids your question, his olive eyes steadfast in their focus on you. This blatant disregard makes your heart sink, but you try to play along.

“They didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you mean,” you answer honestly. “They just talked to me. I…”

You shake your head, frustrated and failing to concentrate on anything but what’s happening now.

“Yosuke, you’re acting weird. What’s going on?” You persist, looking up at him. “You’re scaring me.”

“You overheard that I spoke with my boss yesterday, correct?” Your doctor continues to be vague with you. Normally you’d be annoyed by this, but right now you’re feeling too anxious to react in this way. Hesitant to speak again in response, you merely nod.

“Then you know we spoke extensively about you,” Yosuke continues, stepping back from your body and leaning against the wall by the entrance of the room. He folds his arms and watches you from afar, his olive eyes focused intensely on you from behind their square frames. “I am sorry you’ve been feeling so awful as of late. You do worry me.”

His tone remains frigid even as he says this. You’re not at all inclined to believe he actually cares right now.

“…You talked about Jay, right?” You ask hesitantly. “You couldn’t have just talked about me.”

Yosuke’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“No such person exists. Do you understand?”

You look away, realizing that your time with Gale was the only time you had to talk openly about Jay’s death without repercussion. Quietly, you nod at your doctor.

“I’d have talked to you myself about how you’ve been feeling,” Yosuke goes on. “But I was summoned to go over some things with my boss. He seemed adamant about having me speak with him as soon as possible. I was with him for a long while, in fact.”

He frowns, finally giving off an expression you can interpret easily.

“We talked a little bit about your mother, you know. You must know her name by now.”

“Vanessa,” you recount, mumbling. You recall seeing Mom’s fury at being called by her real name by her boss. You hope she won’t act strangely toward you since she knows you know her full name. She hadn’t really seemed to react to you after her initial glance toward the gate, focused only on the two men before her. But you’re sure she won’t have forgotten either.

Hearing this name spoken aloud, Yosuke tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily through his nose. Promptly after, he re-opens his eyes, but remains with his gaze fixated on the ceiling as if in thought.

“Indulge me, Ten,” he speaks up. “What exactly happened between you two while I was away?”

This question makes your heart beat faster. You’re unmistakably certain he now knows what happened between you, Mom, and Cyrus. This also means he knows you lied straight to his face. Your lips tremble as you look on at Yosuke, unable to produce an answer right away. You watch, frozen, as your doctor tilts his head back down to its normal position and shifts his gaze back at you. He says nothing in wait of an answer, and so you try as best you can to tell him. Even if being honest now won’t make him less upset with you, perhaps telling him why you lied might.

“Mom acted out,” you shakily tell him. “S-she drugged me and my friend and brought us to his examination room.”

“And?”

“…And she made him use me. She told me not to tell you. She said she’d hurt my friend if I said anything. Please, Yosuke. I was scared of losing him.”

“Why?” Yosuke raises a brow. “Is he important to you?”

This question takes you aback, but you try to stay focused despite your rising fear.

“They’re all important to me. I don’t want to lose them.”

Yosuke almost laughs, his frown twisting halfway into an amused smirk.

“You think she’d really give him up like that?” He chides your assumption as if thinking it foolish. “He is her Number, after all. Your mother adores that boy. He’s been hers for a long time. She wouldn’t abandon him so easily. Nor you.”

“She seemed adamant on at least hurting him if she had to,” you correct him, painfully recalling the sight of Mom choking Cyrus. You avoid Yosuke’s stare then, and focus on the floor. “I didn’t want him to suffer because of me.”

“And how exactly would she have found out that you told me, Ten?” Yosuke moves one arm up and rests the side of his head against his hand, steadying his elbow in his other hand.

“Because she assumed you’d get after her for it,” You answer him honestly. “She didn’t want you to bar her from seeing me. You got mad at her for what she did in the hall, Yosuke. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have gone after her for this too.”

“Don’t make assumptions of me,” Your doctor sharply retorts. However, he starts to smirk again, almost as if amused. “Stupid woman still ended up being punished by what she wanted to avoid. That’s actually laughable.”

He chuckles.

“And you, my dear, are as foolish as you are undeniably precious.”

You look at Yosuke with confusion, but simultaneously feel hurt by his dressed-up insult.

“Of course I’d have been upset knowing then what she did to you,” he goes on. “But, had you only been honest with me from the beginning, back when I asked you directly to be so, I’d have protected you and that boy from your mother’s wrath. I would have remained silent about my knowing about what happened if only for you.”

He then drops his arms and begins to slowly step toward you. When he reaches your body, he grabs your chin firmly and forces you to face him.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he speaks gravely, his voice low and firm. “Now, you can lie about your feelings all you want, my dear. I expect that you’ll hold them in and fight against them until you break for me. But it’s the dishonesty here in particular that irks me. I vowed I’d protect you, but I can’t do that without your complete trust in me to do so.”

Feeling Yosuke’s body heat this close to you strangely sends chills throughout you, but they don’t feel like they’re from your fear. It dawns on you then that you’re starting to enjoy this closeness, that your body Is responding eagerly to it. You can’t understand why.

“Did you enjoy being with him, Ten?” Yosuke casually questions you as he toys with your bottom lip using his thumb. “Or did he make you cry?”

You blush thinking about Cyrus touching you again. You’re not sure why the memory flusters you so much right now. However, you try to respond.

“He treated me carefully,” you say, trying to be cautiously vague with your words. “My body only responded to him like it does anyone else. Please, don’t bring him into this.”

“Are you fond of him?”

“I-I don’t know. He’s a friend,” you try to assure your doctor, avoiding looking into his olive eyes as they watch your every reaction. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Yosuke stares at you contemplatively, but doesn’t seem pleased. This causes you to look directly and direly at him.

“I swear it’s the truth!” You try to assure him once more, your voice weary and almost pleading. “You couldn’t possibly be jealous of…of a friend?”

Your doctor says nothing for a moment, simply looking on at your fearful face. However, he eventually gives you his answer.

“I have no reason to be jealous of someone so insignificant. My only focus is you,” Yosuke presses his thumb against both your lips firmly then. “After all, I have to share you with the other doctors. But I can have you when I want anyway. Remember that much. You belong to me. You always will.”

For some reason, this touch against your lips makes you moan and blush ever so slightly. Hearing this makes your doctor smile gently and cock his head a bit.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” He asks sweetly, but with a light, teasing tone. “You look a bit flustered.”

You try to hold in your strange excitement at his most simple touch, but Yosuke releases your chin and glides his hand down your neck and chest slowly. Despite having felt nothing from this act before, this time the trailing sensation of his warm skin makes you lightly whimper, your body shaking desperately as pleasure rises inside of you. By now, you’re able to pinpoint the strange sensations as being caused by whatever you were given a dose of earlier.

“W-what the fuck did you inject me with?” You demand upon realizing this, clenching your fists as your voice shakes. Yosuke merely chuckles at you and continues to glide his hand along your skin, moving up toward your cheek again and cupping it warmly.

“I was given permission to use a low dose of a particular drug on you,” he explains sweetly. “Just enough for you to get a good taste of it.”

He leans into your ear and speaks lowly.

“You were dishonest with me, so I need to punish you, my pet. If I just let this slip by, you’d think it was okay to betray my trust all the time.”

Your eyes widen as he says these words, though his voice reverberating into your ear sends even more pleasurable chills down your spine. They’re even stronger this time, and you end up gasping with your mouth widely agape. Yosuke moves his hands down your body and chuckles devilishly.

“You lied to me,” He says more firmly. “But you’re going to be honest with me now, whether you want to be or not. You’d asked me earlier if this drug was going to hurt you, but you shouldn’t worry. It won’t hurt one little bit.”

You gasp and whimper again as you feel Yosuke’s warm hands trail down your waist, your body burning with lust as he touches you. You try to press your legs together desperately, almost out of instinct, but that does little to stop what you’re feeling.

“In fact, you’re going to feel so good, my dear…” Your doctor kisses your cheek as he pauses in his sentence. “…that you’re not going to be able to understand why this is a punishment until it’s all over.”

“Wh-why would you do this to me?” You grunt as Yosuke continues to kiss your neck and rub your body. “Why are you so cruel?”

“I could have easily just hit you or locked you up,” Yosuke reminds you, breathing and sighing between kisses. “This is the least painful way to punish you, my pet. I know how hard you try to avoid submitting to me. Forcing you to do so will only make you want to avoid future punishments of any kind.”

“I can still control myself,” you try to tell him, gasping as you feel Yosuke lightly bite your neck now. Your fists continue to clench as you endure these strangely pleasurable sensations, but you try to hold steadfast to your will. “I’m still able to focus on hating what you’re doing.”

“It’ll take a moment for the drug to fully work,” Yosuke chuckles. “You’ll lose that ability to fight soon, my pet. Don’t you worry.”

He leans into your ear.

“Besides, you’re already getting this worked up on a little foreplay.”

Yosuke then nips at your earlobe, making you moan loudly. You try to shake your head away, but your efforts do little to stop him. Your doctor hungrily licks at your ear now, still running his warm hands along your body all the while. You grit your teeth at the sensation, feeling yourself growing utterly aroused by it more than you usually do.

“Why take the time to do this for me at all if you’re just going to use me anyway?!” You question angrily as your frustration toward your arousal grows. You’re starting to struggle to contain yourself, but you cling desperately to your ability to still speak and think properly about how disgusted you are by this.

“I told you that I love you, Ten,” Yosuke answers simply, moving his hands toward your chest to start groping you. “It’s because I love you that I have to be firm with you and work hard to keep you in line. But I want you to feel good too. As I said, I could very easily make you suffer in worse ways.”

You struggle to respond for a moment as your doctor paws at your breasts, toying with them in his fingers while he continues to kiss, lick, and bite your ear. You can feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter with each act, your body disobeying your mind as it falls for Yosuke’s touch. Unable to help it, you let out loud moans as you’re helplessly fondled and licked. A part of you is starting to want to be fucked, but you try as best you can to hold yourself together.

“Nothing more to say, dear?” Yosuke teases you with another lick of your inner ear. “Or are you afraid of what you might tell me?”

He chuckles as he pulls back from your head to look at you.

“You’re blushing very hard, my pet. How cute.”

You try to avoid looking at him, but tremble as you feel a hand drop from your breast and to your crotch. Sweetly, Yosuke runs two fingers up and down your vulva from behind your panties, laughing in amusement as he does.

“You’re dripping wet, my dear,” he observes while grinning. “You may be trying to contain yourself, but your body has betrayed you.”

You whimper as his fingertips reach upward toward your clit and linger there, starting to tease it playfully. Yosuke watches as you squirm around in your bonds at his touch.

“It’s of no use to struggle, my pet,” Yosuke chuckles again. “You’re going to endure what I have to give you.”

Still with a grin, he moves both his hands onto the top of your panties and rips them to expose your crotch fully to him, then lets the cloth fall to the floor. When the cold air hits the area between your legs, you realize just how wet you’ve really become. Yosuke merely laughs as he continues to play with your labia using his fingers, rubbing and poking at and inside your folds playfully like some curious child. Every movement of his fingers causes you to gasp and whimper, and you shudder as you hear wet noises emanating from between your legs with each playful touch. You desperately start to want your doctor’s fingers inside of you, but try to keep quiet about it as best you can. If you can at least do that, it’ll rob him of the satisfaction he craves in making you succumb to him.

Yosuke merely watches as you squirm in your bonds and continue to whimper at his warm touch. Without warning, he gives a sly smirk and presses several of his fingers into your pussy, sliding them in with ease and beginning to toy with your body.

“My, you accepted them so readily,” He points out teasingly, watching as you throw your head back and loudly moan. “You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

You want to shut your legs, but for some reason aren’t able to bring yourself to. Your body wants this pleasure, and now you can’t seem to get it to do what you want it to. As Yosuke slides his digits in and out of your pussy while stimulating your clit with his thumb, he leans in to give a few more playful licks of your ear, making you groan and cry with desire.

“It’s alright to let go, my pet,” he tells you readily. His voice in your ear makes you shiver more than it had before, and your pussy ends up tightening around his curling fingers more.

“Y-Yosuke please…!” You try to tell him to stop, but your voice trails off as the stimulation of your pussy and clit makes your words turn back into moans almost immediately. This causes your doctor to laugh through his throat into your ear, the breath from his nose hitting your skin as he continues to lick you.

Yosuke soon picks up his fingering pace, sliding his fingers in and out of you more rapidly while sopping wet noises continue to fill the air. This would normally embarrass you, but it only makes you more self-aware that he’s pleasuring you which strangely enhances the sensations you’re feeling in your body. The thought of Yosuke gleefully forcing his cock upon you floats into your mind as he continues to relentlessly finger you, and this makes you even hornier. You groan loudly again, your heart beating faster as you want to come.

Sensing this, Yosuke begins to moan into your ear to further your pleasure, and the vibrations of his voice against it are just strong enough to send you into ecstasy. Eagerly, your pussy squeezes around his fingers and you start to let go, crying loudly into the air while you’re touched and licked. Yosuke refuses to let up his toying of you until you finish up completely. Once you do, he pulls away and watches your face eagerly with a grin.

When everything is over, your chest rises and falls, and you begin to pant with long, loud breaths. Your face is utterly hot and red now, and your body wells with lust. Even now, you want more and more. Yosuke quickly pulls his fingers out of your body, making you yelp slightly. You wish all this didn’t feel so good. If you’re reacting this way to just his fingers, you fear how you might respond to his cock.

As if reading your mind, you watch nervously as your doctor steps back and unbuckles his belt, watching you intently with a calm smile on his face all the while. You shudder as he begins to unbutton and unzip his pants, opening himself up just enough for his cock to be exposed through his boxers. You can see it dripping with precum, and this excites you despite knowing in part that it shouldn’t. You’re slowly starting to forget you don’t want Yosuke with how much the drug is affecting you.

“You’re shaking, my pet,” your doctor points out with a smirk. He comes closer to you now and runs his hands lovingly down your sides, making you whimper. “You want this, don’t you?”

You refuse to answer, despite wanting to tell him yes. Your lips almost open to do so, in fact, but you grit your teeth and press your lips back together to stop yourself. Yosuke notices this and chuckles through his throat and nose, then grabs one of your thighs. He lifts up the leg he didn’t inject, again to his stomach level as with the one before. As your pussy is exposed, Yosuke slides his shaft against your slit, teasing you. He watches with amusement as you start to squirm and shiver at his touch. You’re not sure why you’re even fighting it anymore with how good it feels.

With his other hand, Yosuke grabs your chin and massages your lips with his thumb, toying with your mouth playfully. You almost end up leaning into his hand eagerly as he does this, enjoying his warmth. You continue to whimper as your doctor humps against you, rubbing your vulva with his cock teasingly.

“How much longer do you think you can avoid giving in?” he laughs deeply. “You’re going to beg sooner or later, my pet.”

He then pushes his thumb into your mouth and against your tongue, wetly sliding it back and forth against it and your lips while you shut your eyes and moan. After a while of toying with your body, Yosuke eventually stops his thrusts against your slit and gives a light chuckle before shoving his way into your pussy. The sudden penetration, although slick and easy to take, is unexpected and causes you to yelp with pleasure. Under the influence of this strange drug, being entered is almost enough to send you into ecstasy alone. You end up gasping loudly and widening your eyes as you throw your head back, your mouth now utterly agape with your doctor’s thumb still inside of it and pressing against your tongue.

Yosuke begins to thrust up against you, dropping his hand from your mouth and using it to steady your waist while he continues to hold your bent leg in his other hand. He grunts as he pumps into you, going at a steady pace at first to adjust his body to yours.

“You’re so warm, my pet,” he breathes, giving another grunt as he pushes in again. He then laughs. “I can’t wait to fill your pretty little body with my cum.”

With how wet you are, each meeting of Yosuke’s crotch against yours results in a loud, sopping wet noise that pierces your ears and makes you blush. Every thrust of his cock into your pussy makes you gasp heavily, and makes you want more and more of him. Something about feeling him fuck you while drugged is so unbearably satisfying that you begin to forget you’re supposed to be fighting him. However, you’re so enamored by the sensation of being thrust into forcefully that you can’t produce words right now either, and this amuses Yosuke greatly as he continues to laugh while he fucks you. His pace starts to quicken as he lets out more grunts and pants, his lips curled into a twisted smile all the while as he watches your wide-eyed, pleasured expression from above you.

“Does it feel good, my dear?” He croons breathily. “You can’t even bring yourself to fight me anymore, can you? My darling pet…”

You give no real response, instead crying out as Yosuke pumps harder into you.

“Now relax,” your doctor goes on, continuing his steady pumping pace. “You’re mine right now. You ought to enjoy how good it feels to be taken.”

You continue to gasp and cry as you endure Yosuke’s eager thrusts, wriggling around in your bonds which only hurts your wrists. Despite the pain, your mind only focuses on the pleasure you feel with Yosuke’s sex in your body. The more of it you get, the more of it you want. You start to wonder whether this is so bad if it feels this good, but a part of you still tries to remind you that you don’t want this. That part of you, however, seems to be fading fast.

Soon, you feel yourself ready to come, but you refrain from announcing it despite feeling your lips wanting to let the words out. Your doctor doesn’t give you much of a warning either, though you hear him give one last loud grunt before he spurts his cum into your pussy, still thrusting against you as he climaxes. Feeling his semen flowing into your body makes you start to roll your hip against Yosuke eagerly, and you end up riding him instinctively as your cunt fills with his warm, milky seed. Seeing your body respond eagerly makes the man hovering over you laugh while he keeps coming into you.

Despite wanting more and more of him now more than ever, you for some reason start to try kicking Yosuke away with your free leg. Perhaps some subconscious part of you is still resisting the drug and your doctor’s advances, but now that you want to be fucked by him, you’re almost mad at yourself for even reacting this way. When Yosuke gets pushed back and pulls out of your body, you find yourself missing him inside of you.

“Still trying to hold on to even an ounce of your dignity, I see,” Yosuke smirks. He doesn’t seem particularly offended by your resistant gesture, sure of himself that you’re going to slip up. You’re far too busy recovering from your orgasm and waiting in want of another to really react to his statement. “If you can’t stay still like a good girl, I’ll have to tie up your legs too.”

You watch helplessly as your doctor walks away from you, moving back to the cabinets behind you to grab whatever he’d left out. Your toes begin to curl against the hard floor now that your leg has been dropped, your pussy aching for more cum. Perhaps Yosuke’s right about letting go in this moment. Whatever’s happening to you feels too good. You wonder why this drug was never used before if it’s this pleasurable. It could have made everything so much easier. Nobody would have had to suffer at all. Everyone could have been happy.

You continue to breathe heavily through your mouth while you await your doctor’s return. Your eyes light up slightly when you finally do see Yosuke come back toward the front of you with more black rope in hand. Seeing him leads you to realize it was this he left on the counter earlier. You don’t know why you were so afraid of it before. Now, it excites you.

Yosuke smiles at you, clearly pleased by your reaction to him. You’re sure he knows the drug is working completely now, but you don’t care. You look forward to whatever it is he wants to do to you next, so long as he makes it feel good.

“Are you happy, my pet?” He asks, raising one of your legs again and wrapping the rope around it to keep it in a bent position. “Your eyes are practically glazed over. You should see yourself. It’s an endearing sight.”

You nod in response to your doctor’s question while still staring eagerly at him while breathing heavily. Your heart races more as Yosuke’s skin brushes warmly against yours. You’re not responding verbally, but you don’t know why anymore. So, you question,

“What are you going to do now?” You ask this far more readily and with less unease than you would have before. In fact, finally hearing your voice now, you sound surprisingly enthused. Yosuke chuckles to himself as he ties your other leg now, amused by your change in tone.

“Eager, are we?”

You give a bit of a moan as your doctor tightens the rope on your legs, making it firmly wrap around you and press into your skin. He then stands on something you can’t quite make out from where you are, but assume is some kind of a stool. Yosuke grabs some leftover rope that he left dangling from your legs and now brings it up to the ceiling, tying each rope onto a separate hook. You gasp as you feel your legs being spread wide open by this action, the ropes above you tugging your body open as their ends are parted. The way your doctor has you now, you’re practically a puppet on strings. Not only are your arms restrained, but your legs are now too, and with how wide they’re spread open, your creamy cunt is completely exposed. Feeling this arouses you more, your chest rising and falling as you pant heavily in your flustered state.

Done with his preparations, Yosuke heads back down from his stool and stands before you, eyeing your body with titillation in his olive eyes as he rubs his chin thoughtfully and smirks.

“You look perfect like this, my pet,” he compliments coolly. “Perhaps I should do this more often.”

You turn your head back toward him hopefully, your eyes wide and your mouth sucking in panting breaths as you await your doctor’s cock. As if heeding your silent request, Yosuke steps toward you and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek endearingly as he examines your desperate expression. Happy to feel his touch, you lean into his hand and blush, still breathing heavily as your body yearns to feel your doctor inside of it. You know he’ll make you feel good.

Without much more being said, Yosuke drops his hand. He instead puts one on each of your thighs and starts rubbing them while looking intently at you, his olive gaze focused, but eager. You continue to stay quiet for a moment as you bask in the bliss of Yosuke’s fingers curling and rubbing gently along your thighs. After a while of this, though, you immediately start to gasp and moan wildly again once you feel the head of your doctor’s cock pressing against the entrance of your vagina. Presented to him so openly, you’re taken without question. And, with how much your body is burning with the desire to be fucked, you’re happy to let him do it. You can’t imagine why you ever hated his touch before. It seems he knows just how to work you.

Yosuke chuckles at you, then moves his hands under your body to support your weight and ease the tension of being held only by tight rope. You feel the warmth of his palms and fingers pressing firmly into the skin beneath your thighs and butt, and continue to blush wildly at his touch. A loud whimper escapes your lips then as you feel Yosuke pressing his middle more against you, easing his cock more and more into your pussy until it’s fully in.

With a smirk, Yosuke then begins to thrust against you. He goes at a steady pace for a little while, breathing heavily through his nose while his olive eyes fixate on your glazed-over expression. Your mouth is completely agape, your breaths loud and hot as they float upward toward the man above you. The fabric of his shirt and pants rubs against your thighs and calves with each thrust, and you can feel his warmth against them through the clothing. This drives you wilder. Every sensation, no matter how small, makes you want to stay here and be fucked forever and ever.

Yosuke’s cock feels so warm and wet, a perfect thing just for you. Every gasping breath he takes reverberates in your ears and makes you shudder. Your heart flutters at his touch and your toes curl as you feel Yosuke taking you for himself, like you’re some kind of thing to be used. You continue to wail pleasurably into the air with your head tilted back as you’re pounded into, your entire being succumbing utterly to your doctor as he makes you his. Why had you ever fought him before? This feels too wonderful for you to ever say you hate it. Every touch sends you into ecstasy, every breath and pump and groan drives you wild. You can’t take how good it feels, yet you don’t want it to ever stop.

“Y…osuke…!” you cry, feeling yourself ready to accept more of his cum. “…I’m almost…!”

Your doctor remains so focused on pumping his dick in and out of you while still staring into your eyes that he doesn’t quite respond. All he musters are focused grunts and pants as his pace quickens. You can see his forehead and the sides of his face starting to pick up a sweat as he concentrates on burrowing his cock in and out of your cunt wetly and forcefully, but he refuses to stop to catch his breath now after hearing how close you are. You try to wait for him to come before you let go in want of him enjoying you, but you’re starting to feel more and more impatient the longer he takes to ejaculate. However, he soon grits his teeth and gives one last loud grunt and powerful thrust, and it’s this that signals you to ride his cock eagerly so that you can come with him.

Your panting becomes more shallow and rapid, your moans and whines much louder as you start to climax. In your pleasure, you relentlessly call your doctor’s name over and over, looking at him with glazed eyes and feeling yourself starting to drool a bit from the corner of your mouth as every inch of you drips with lust. You can’t believe how good this feels! You just want to burst with how much every sensation knocks the breath out of you.

Your pleasure eventually settles back down as your orgasm ends, and even now you can feel Yosuke’s cum resting inside you. He doesn’t pull himself out just yet, though. Instead, your doctor gives a bit of a laugh and leans in toward your lips.

“Good girl,” he coos, licking up your saliva from your chin before kissing you roughly. You end up reciprocating his kisses as he moves his tongue into your mouth, moaning eagerly into him as you wrap your tongue around his, and balling your fists as you continue to hang helplessly from the ceiling. Yosuke squeezes your thighs a bit as he’s still holding you, and this only makes your reactions to his kissing you stronger. You feel your pussy wrapping around Yosuke’s cock even though he’s doing nothing to it, and feeling this makes him chuckle while still over your mouth.

Sensing that you’re still eager for more of his seed, Yosuke starts to thrust against you more as he continues kissing you. The sudden motion of your doctor’s beginning to fuck you again makes you yelp into his mouth, though your noises sound nothing but lustful now. They’re almost exaggerated, but you feel too good to contain yourself anymore. You want more and more. You can’t bear to stay still or quiet now.

Hungry for your doctor’s warmth, you begin to move your body against him as best you can while he holds and fucks you. The loud, wet, slopping sounds again begin to fill the room as Yosuke pumps in and out of you, his crotch constantly meeting yours. It only turns you on more to hear him and feel him dominating you this way. With his mouth atop yours, though, every noise that comes from your throat is muffled. Both you and Yosuke end up breathing heavily through your noses as you continue to sloppily and fiercely kiss one another.

After a short while, you feel one of Yosuke’s hands drop from one of your thighs and move to your lower back as he wraps his arm around you to pull you closer to him. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin even there makes you tremble eagerly. You begin to moan more into your doctor’s mouth, and after a while longer of being wetly thrust into by his cock, you start to feel yourself ready to come again. You moan a little more eagerly this time into Yosuke’s lips to let him know you’re ready, and in response the man gives a long, lustful groan against you as his own pleasure rises. He picks up his pace just a bit more as he starts to reach his peak, keeping this pumping rhythm up for a little while longer.

In a few more moments, Yosuke finally ejaculates more of his cum into your warm, sopping hole, filling every bit of you up. He continues to buck his hips against you as he comes, still spurting out a bit more cum as he’s utterly turned on by you enough to want to give you more. In turn, you cry and whimper into his mouth as you ride his cock, using your pussy to milk it readily. The more you feel his semen flowing into you, the more of it you want.

Though you’d have been tired of being fucked by this point any other time before this, with how much you still burn with lust now, you want to keep going no matter what. If your body is tired, you sure can’t tell now. You wouldn’t really stop anyway. You couldn’t.

Once Yosuke pulls his mouth away from yours, leaving a trail of saliva between you two that eventually falls and breaks, you start to pant heavily. Your doctor looks at you with his olive gaze, his glasses slightly fogged up from all the hot breath that had hit against it for so long. As he breathes in and out heavily while coming down from his climax, he watches your red, captivated face and glazed eyes. Finally able to speak again, you start to look up at him with trembling lips.

“Yosuke, please…” you beg wearily in your ecstasy. “Please give me more!”

You for some reason start to feel tears running down your cheeks, but you’re not really able to focus much on them or understand why you’re even crying, unless it’s because you’re so happy. Really, all you want is Yosuke.

Your doctor hovers over your face a moment, watching with slight surprise at your reaction. You aren’t much focusing on how he’s feeling anyway. All you can think about is being taken by him. As you pant more, your lips finally curve upward, and you begin to smile sweetly at the man. Your face becomes softer now, happier.

Seeing this makes your doctor widen his eyes and look at you intensely.

“Yosuke, please fuck me,” you beg more, your voice shaking with eager delight. “I want to feel more of you. Everything you’re doing makes me so happy. Everything feels so good…!”

Your doctor seems frozen where he is, looking on at you with his wide-eyed expression as he continues to breathe heavily in recovery from his activity. The sweat on his face has started to bead up and roll down the sides of his cheeks, and his body is so hot that it feels comfortable resting against yours.

You eagerly want him to fuck you more, but are put off when he doesn’t move. Disappointed, even.

“…Yosuke?” You call out worriedly. “You’re not mad at me, are you? Please…”

You move your head and neck forward in an attempt to reach Yosuke’s lips, coming close but not quite able to get to them.

“Yosuke…” You plead. “Don’t you want me? Isn’t that why you tied me up? Please, I just want to feel you. I want to feel good.”

Your doctor still refuses to move. You’re not sure what he might be thinking while he’s staring at you so intensely like this. You continue to call his name a few more times, enduring a long silence before he finally and calmly shuts his eyes a moment. Promptly, Yosuke pulls out of you, the wet sensation making you moan slightly. However, you watch with disappointment as the man moves to untie your legs, letting your body hang again from only your wrists as your lower half drops back down toward the floor. You steady yourself on your feet again, looking on at your doctor worriedly but woefully as you remain unfulfilled.

“Yosuke, did I do something wrong?” You question breathily, still feeling your body welling with lust. “Why won’t you touch me?”

Your doctor looks at you a moment, his eyes calm once again. He gives your lips a quick kiss before he pulls away and murmurs,

“That’s enough, now.”

He unties both your wrists then and lets you stand on your own. The juices inside of you from earlier now drip down your leg, though you don’t much mind it. The remaining rope stays hanging on the hooks above you, though they start to pull away from you all of a sudden. While it only takes a split second, you realize that you’re falling over, with your legs too weak to support your weight after so long of being restrained. Promptly, Yosuke catches you in his arms, then cradles you.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently. You look up at him still with a smile and give a light nod. This makes the man softly chuckle and kiss you again, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away. He then moves away from all the ropes now and starts to lay you down on a black, low table nearby that looks familiar to you for some reason. You lay there eagerly, your face still blushing and your body still burning for more activity. Yosuke merely looks at you with a calm expression, gently smiling at you all the while.

“Be a good girl for me and stay there, alright?” He coos, giving your cheek a quick rub. You look on at him, still with your lips curved into a loving, playful smile, and nod again with the promise to stay still. Despite how weak your body feels right now, you refuse to listen to it. Laying here in anticipation for your doctor, however, keeps you going. You can only imagine what he has in store for you.

Yosuke eventually returns with a syringe in his hand, and this causes you to look up at him with a frown.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. Your doctor kneels down slightly, steadying himself on one knee by your side. He then smiles and cups your cheek with his free hand.

“If you take it, I’ll play with you until you pass out,” he bargains. “Would you like that, my pet?”

Without hesitation at the promise of being fucked more, you nod eagerly and allow Yosuke to do what he means to. Gently, he takes your arm and sticks the needle into you where Gale had previously. It strangely doesn’t hurt you at all. It even feels a bit titillating to experience a new sensation against your skin in the state you’re in, but you seem to giggle in response to it rather than moan. Once Yosuke has finished pumping your vein with the anesthetic, he retracts the empty syringe and lets it fall to the floor. As promised, your doctor then moves atop you on the table and spreads open the top of his pants again to expose himself to you. Readily, you spread your legs for him, anticipant of and eager for more of his warm cock.

Yosuke looks down at you a moment with a focused expression you can’t place, though his olive eyes again remain fixated on your face. Gently, he brushes some stray hair away from your cheeks and watches intently as you smile and breathe heavily, hungry for more of his touch.

You don’t even have to ask him to take you. Despite lingering for a moment, Yosuke does precisely as you want him to, pushing his way through the folds of your labia and starting to pump his cock in and out of your pussy again. He groans and breaths sweetly as he does, leaning closer against you and kissing your neck as he takes your body once more. You want to grind against him yourself, but soon realize you’re far weaker than you thought, to a point even your desires can’t keep you going. Instead, you wrap your arms around Yosuke’s neck and back. You simply lay there otherwise, letting the man use your body with an enamored smile plastered on your flushed, hot face.

You’re past the point of moaning now, merely letting out a few weak whimpers from your throat as you melt at Yosuke’s pleasuring of you. He seems to have a far quicker pace now than before, having started off fairly quick to begin with the moment he entered you in this position. His breathing is far shallower now as he pants quickly with each rapid thrust, sucking his breaths in from both his nose and his mouth. He’s being far more forceful this time with your body, pressing hard against you with each inward pump of your cunt. The wet, squelching noises you’re familiar with are far louder and sloppier now than before, but something about this pace feels absolutely exhilarating. You can do no more than lie there and be your doctor’s little fuckdoll while you start to succumb to the effects of the anesthetic and remain motionless in your dwindling consciousness. You eventually feel your limbs slide off of Yosuke and drop loudly back onto the table as you fail to keep them held up in your weakening state, but this doesn’t hinder your doctor’s eager pace.

You stop being able to fully think of anything else but your pleasure as your body melts. Yosuke pulls himself back from your neck and looks at you with his face flushed. His focused expression is really the only thing you can see before you finally succumb to the anesthetic. Your body eventually goes completely numb, but you continue to hear the sounds of eager, wet thrusts while you close your eyes and fade away.

---

There’s a soreness in your arms that you become aware of first as your mind starts to drift again into consciousness. Trying to move them even slightly produces an uncomfortable tinge of pain, but not one that’s at all unbearable. At the very least, you can feel that you’ve been clothed again. You have this to be thankful of, if nothing much else.

As you lie on your side, your eyes flutter weakly open to the familiar rose color of your bedroom walls, though you can see your desk in the corner as well, indicating that you’re turned on an opposite side than you were when you woke up here last time. Though you’re aware of where you are, your mind is still foggy enough for you not to wholly recall how you got here.

A few fingers can be felt gently tussling around bits of your hair then, massaging your scalp slowly. The warm sensation is comforting on your head, but you remember then just who’s with you. Your eyes shift upward toward the wall that your bed frame is up against, and it’s there that you catch sight of your doctor standing against the rose surface, looking off to the side and not yet aware of your awakened state. In fact, he seems distracted by something else entirely and is just mindlessly pawing at your head, petting you without really paying attention to you.

It’s not until you shift weakly up from your mattress that he’s forced to realize you’re awake, and so he turns his head toward you and drops his hand to the side. The man merely smiles at you and pushes off the wall, standing by your bed. He offers a hand to help you up when he sees you struggling to sit up yourself since you suppose you’re still groggy from the anesthetic. However, you manage on your own and swing your legs off the side of the bed so that you can sit and face your doctor.

When you more clearly see Yosuke’s face, your eyes slowly start to widen. Despite the lingering exhaustion, you now remember everything that’s just happened between you two. Now that the strange drug from your visit has worn off, your anger starts to rise while any ounce of pleasure you’d felt before completely diminishes. Whatever it is you were given did not hinder your memory whatsoever. You now clearly recall every sensation you felt and every word you said.

All at once, you feel embarrassed, angry, ashamed, and hurt. With this amalgamation of horrid feelings, your face scrunches up as you stare at your doctor, and you begin to clench your teeth and cry in frustration. Angrily, you start to beat your fists into Yosuke’s stomach, though your fight is hardly noteworthy against him as you’re still weak right now. Your doctor merely stands there and looks down at you, though with your eyes full of tears, you can’t see his expression. You wouldn’t want to anyway.

You continue to beat against him angrily while wailing loudly until you can’t bring yourself to keep up the motion. Helplessly, you begin to sob and lean against Yosuke with your head buried in his shirt while your hands grip the cloth furiously.

“How fucking could you?!” You cry, gritting your teeth. “Why did you do that to me?”

Yosuke calmly reaches his hand up to pet your head gently, almost as if attempting to comfort you despite your complete lack of feeling assuaged by this gesture. You’re furious now, but can’t even bring yourself to pull away from him with your sobbing state.

“I told you why, Ten,” he answers calmly. “I needed you to learn a lesson. It hurt me to see you struggle, really.”

“That’s a goddamn lie!” You shoot back angrily, still with your head down. “I saw you. You enjoyed every bit of that encounter. You got off on watching me beg for you!”

“I do love being with you, my dear,” Yosuke answers without any indication of tone to his voice. You can’t tell what he’s thinking now. “But you understand now that there are consequences to going against me, don’t you?”

Your tears slowly start to subside, though your sinuses feel utterly clogged and pressurized now. You’re shocked Yosuke isn’t teasing you about how you reacted to him under the influence of the strange drug. Granted, you’re not exactly complaining that he isn’t either, but it still strikes you as strange that he didn’t immediately toy with your feelings about the whole thing.

“I can’t exactly say no,” you weakly admit, tightening your grip on your doctor’s now-wet shirt. “Either I have to tell you the truth in fear of this happening again, or I have to become a better liar, like you.”

You gasp as Yosuke suddenly pushes you back on the bed and pins your wrists on either side of you. He steadies himself on his knees, placing one between yours while staring intently at you with his olive eyes. Your heart beats faster at the feeling of his touch, and it makes you think that the effects of the drug might still be lingering in your body after all. You have no clue why you’re reacting this way really, but you hate feeling this flustered and are frustratingly unable to stop yourself from blushing with how close to your face your doctor is.

Yosuke continues to examine your expression intensely, but says nothing and makes no other moves. In return, your expression morphs from surprise to disgust. You scowl at him and demand with a low, bitter voice,

“Get off of me.”

Seeing this gesture and hearing your words makes Yosuke exhale heavily through his nose and pull away from you. Without giving a response, the man stands back up and rubs his face from under his glasses a moment before folding both his arms and looking at you again.

“What do you feel now, Ten? Physically speaking?” He questions you, recomposing himself from whatever it is he just did—or tried to do. You don’t understand why he did it, but are relieved that he let you go when you told him to. Though, you admit it’s still strange. He’d never have done so before. Knowing him, he would have lingered and teased you endlessly for secretly wanting him after all.

Regardless of this, your bitter state returns now that you’re not being hovered over, and you continue to scowl while looking at the floor. However, when you really think about it enough, you admit you want to keep feeling good. A part of you wants more of what you were given if only it would make you stop feeling badly. This only confirms further that the effects of the drug Yosuke gave you are still lingering somewhat even if the drug itself isn’t affecting you anymore. And, realizing this makes your expression soften as you concentrate on the strangeness of this feeling. Why do you want more of this?

“I’m just tired,” you vaguely respond. However, Yosuke frowns.

“I just got done teaching you not to lie to me,” he scolds you. “Tell me the truth, Ten.”

You wince at his stern tone, but give into this demand.

“I wish I could go back to feeling good,” you say bluntly. “I hated being with you that way now that I can think clearly about it. But I can’t help but admit that I’d rather feel pleasure than misery. Is that enough of an answer for you?”

When Yosuke doesn’t respond, you look up at him finally with your brows upturned. He seems to hesitate slightly, but eventually exhales as if to sigh.

“You’re still feeling that even now?” He muses. This confuses you.

“What do you mean?”

“You slept the entire day after my visit,” Yosuke answers honestly. “I watched over you, monitored your body and gave you some more shots, did my paperwork, waited hours for you to wake up. You never did.”

“…What?” You’re taken aback by this. You’d thought your prior exhaustion was from the anesthetic, but that would have worn off a while ago, before you even woke up if what Yosuke’s saying is true. Was your body run that ragged? Or were you just tired from all the things you’ve been dealing with at once? You’re not sure, but would believe both.

“It’s the next day, Ten,” is Yosuke’s blunt answer. “I left to take care of things, I came back, and I waited again for you to awaken. Even after all that time sleeping off everything, you still admit you have some semblance of want for more pleasure. Even after that small a dose and with time off, you’re still so affected.”

Your body freezes, and your eyes widen.

“…What the fuck did you give me?” you demand shakily, your anger rising.

“There’s still things about it I’m not allowed to say,” Your doctor admits. “Unless my superior decides it’s acceptable to. But evidently it was a pleasure drug—one we make in-house. It heightens sexual ecstasy and causes uncontrollable and uninhibited arousal, more intensely than other kinds of drugs used for the same purpose. And, unlike drugs that may inhibit memory to achieve this effect, users can completely recall everything that they go through. They are absolutely conscious of what they’re going through and feeling and saying. Only, they can’t control it.”

He points to you slightly.

“You felt its effects firsthand. You should have gathered at least that much. What I gave you was a very low dose. It’s a fairly potent drug, impeccably strong in higher doses. But it’s also very dangerous. It’s because of this I had to even ask permission to use it.”

You raise your brows, your eyes widening further.

“What do you mean dangerous?” Your voice trembles. “What is it going to do to me?”

Yosuke shakes his head.

“One dose won’t kill you, Ten,” he promises. “But you must know by now that you want more of it, even if you can’t explain why, and even after time has passed to ensure there’s no more of it in your system. It’s an addictive substance, and one that can kill the user if it’s abused. One single low dose is insignificant enough to be of no harm beyond a short period of lingering cravings. But if I were to continue giving it to you…”

He closes his eyes.

“Even if you disobey me further, I won’t give you any more of that drug,” Yosuke says firmly. “I’ll have to be more creative with my punishments should there be a need for me to give them to you in the future. But do remember that I know exactly what makes you tick. What you’re afraid of and what you hate most. But after what you endured, you should know from now on never to lie to me again, nor to disobey me so blatantly.”

Your doctor again opens his eyes and fixates his olive gaze on you sharply. “Do you understand?”

Your hands begin to tremble then, your heartbeat increasing to a rapid pace at this news.

“Why would you give me something so awful?” You demand, though your voice sounds weary now. “You keep saying you love me, then you constantly do things like this. That’s not love.”

Yosuke looks at you a moment as if in contemplation, but then chuckles.

“Don’t act like you didn’t have a good time. Shall I bring up how you acted while I played with you?” He asks coyly, though strangely seems to dodge your second statement. Hearing this makes you scowl and clench your fists.

“You mean when you raped me,” you correct assertively. Yosuke does not seem phased by this accusation, instead grabbing your chin and leaning into your ear.

“When I raped you,” Yosuke pretends to correct himself, speaking lowly and with a lustful tone before kissing your cheek. The feeling of his voice reverberating against your ear, coupled with his touch, makes you blush and shiver despite the words he’s saying. Angrily, you push the man away in an attempt to refute his advances. Unmoved by this, Yosuke steps back and straightens his body back up while laughing slightly to himself. Despite his strange, distant attitude earlier, your doctor seems to be acting like himself again now. You’re not exactly thrilled by this, though.

“Please, just let me go,” you look down and beg. “I’ve been through so much bullshit and I just want to see my friends again. I keep waking up and passing out and suffering all in a cycle. I can’t stand this! I was even hoping that…”

You stop yourself a moment, wondering whether or not to admit to Yosuke that you wanted him to at least try comforting you. When you woke up with Gale, even then you’d expected to see him.

“Why didn’t you even try to talk to me about what happened?” You finally choose your words, though you’re not sure they’re very careful once you’ve said them.

Yosuke’s sly demeanor lessens as he hears this question. He sighs then, tussling some of his hair around while in thought. The man eventually recomposes himself and answers,

“I said I was called away. I had no time to really see you. Besides, would you really have listened to anything I had to say? Really think on how that conversation would have gone.”

He frowns.

“You’re so very adamant on fighting against me that you’d have remained stubborn even in my attempts to genuinely console you. It’s far better that Gale took care of you. They’re a doctor who you seem to hate less than some of the rest of us.”

“I did,” you mutter, correcting him. “In the end they treated me just like everyone else does. They’re just like the rest of you.”

“Are you certain?” Yosuke tilts his head. You’re not sure why he’s questioning your statement, but you’re far too exhausted by everything now to discuss it further. You then persist in your begging from just before, wanting to move on from the topic. Wearily, you look up at your doctor and plead,

“Yosuke…I just want to go. Please. You got what you wanted. Please just let me have one thing that I want.”

Despite you having begged so many times before for things you desired, hearing you beg now seems to take your doctor slightly aback for reasons you don’t know. He doesn’t much react in a way that’s super obvious at first, but you can tell by the way his eyes just barely widen and flicker more than usual that he’s taken this differently. You’ve been with him long enough to notice even this subtle change, it seems.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Yosuke finally returns to a neutral expression and sighs.

“I’d really like to keep you longer, my dear,” he finally seems to reach a desired response. “I fully intended it, in fact. But I’ll allow this. For you. Perhaps as a treat for making it through everything recently—everything that didn’t happen.”

You’re sure his statement about doing this for you is bullshit, but you don’t much care now. If it means he’ll finally take you to the hall, you’re fine with accepting his words. However, you’re taken aback by your doctor again grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and forcing your face upward.

“Just as a show of good faith, I’ll keep that secret from before between us as well,” he promises with a slight smile. “Your mother will never know that I know what she did.”

His tone then becomes firmer, and his smile fades.

“However, you need to be reminded of this one last time, my pet: know your place. I know you. I know that you’re not going to just forget about all that’s happened, and that you’re going to tell your friends. I can’t quite stop you from doing so. But, you had better damn well be sure you know what you’re doing and how to behave when it’s imperative that you do so a certain way. Don’t get yourself into trouble. Leave that kind of thing to me.”

You look at your doctor with trembling lips and wide eyes. You remember even Gale telling you to be careful if you intended to be open about what happened, even though they had insisted you stay quiet beforehand.

“Why are you telling me this…?”

“Because I can handle the worst of my superior’s beating punishments. You can’t. You’re still weak enough to where he could break you if he wanted to.” Yosuke refuses to shake his fixated gaze from you.

This statement frightens you, but you end up scowling instead. “If it’s such a big deal, why don’t you people make me forget what I saw? Like you did with the boy before me? None of my friends can remember anything about him. Any trace of him is practically gone.”

“Don’t pry.” Yosuke’s eyes narrow. “Your stubbornness may sometimes amuse me, but it can get you killed when it’s used with the wrong people. And I’d very much hate to see you go, my dear.”

He glides a thumb over your lips.

“I do love you.”

“Don’t say that like you really mean it!” You cry out angrily in offense, pushing your doctor away and rising sharply from the bed. Frustrated, you turn away from Yosuke toward your bedroom door, holding your arms and shutting your eyes. “Just take me to my friends. Please. That’s all I want.”

You feel Yosuke’s hand on your shoulder then and wince, expecting him to do something to you. Before he has the chance, you move away from him and turn back around, scowling at the man in anger. However, he doesn’t appear to be trying anything at all. Instead, your doctor smiles sweetly and extends his hand out to you gently, his mannerisms contradicting his strict tone just a moment ago.

You look at him worriedly, but Yosuke continues to smile gently at you.

“Then let’s go, Ten. I’ll take you to them. Just like always.”

Looking straight into his olive eyes, you ponder on this statement. Is he really just going to let you go? You don’t know why he’s suddenly shifted his tone. You don’t know if it’s a game he’s playing or if he has something to gain from doing this now, but you’re still so eager to see your friends that you almost don’t care. In your silence, you try to convince yourself that you don’t trust Yosuke, and that accepting his offer would mean nothing. Merely, it would just be you accepting the invitation to go back to who you want to be with.

You don’t really know why you do it. Everything he’s done to you has left you livid, left you in a state of despair. However, even after you hesitate for a long while to do it, you slowly reach out to Yosuke and take his hand.

It feels warm in yours.

After gazing upon your doctor a moment with your hand in his, your eyes unwavering, you nod at him just slightly. Seeing his face pisses you off now more than ever, yet you keep yourself focused despite everything you’ve endured and felt. Brushing everything aside only in this moment as you concentrate purely on what’s happening now, you acceptedly answer with a grave tone,

“Okay.”

Chapter 45: Rest Twenty Two - Disclosure

The long stretch of hallway seems almost alien to you as you walk down it beside your doctor. You’re sure it’s only been a few days, yet it feels like it’s been even longer with how much you’ve gone through. A part of you wants to turn back, but you know it’s imperative that you see your friends now more than ever. You’re not sure why Gale assumed you were so dependent on the Numbers at all. Is it wrong to count on people you love to help you? Are you leaning that hard on them? Is that selfish to depend on them at all? You’re not sure. It’s been said to you before that relying on everyone isn’t the best of approaches when it could just end up being a temporary fix, but you want to believe it’s okay to have people you care about help you through something too.

As you let your doctor lead you down the hall while you walk by his side, you start to almost regret taking his hand. It feels nice to have someone hold yours, but perhaps you were a bit too overzealous in accepting his hand to begin with. Maybe you really wanted some kind of warm touch, enough that you let it be Yosuke’s even after what he did. You’d like not to think this is the case. Certainly, you could pull back anytime you like and just endure the man’s teasing of you, but you’re not sure what you want right now and so you just let him guide you. He at least seems to be cupping your hand gently, his fingers curled in your palms carefully.

You’d been looking at the floor this whole time while walking forward, but now that Yosuke, and subsequently you, suddenly stop, you’re forced to look up at the familiar white metal gate. Yosuke promptly drops your hand, and your eyes flicker nervously to the hallway doors around you. Your heart starts to pick up its rhythm, and you can feel your legs trembling where you stand.

Being reminded of the scene that took place here, letting the memory play out in your head more vividly now that you’re at the place it happened, makes you want to vomit. Reflexively, you hold your stomach and put a hand to your mouth, but nothing really comes out. Merely, your stomach continues to churn incessantly, your mouth salivating with the threat to throw up without actually delivering. You feel Yosuke’s hand warmly touch your shoulder as you try to recover from your physical reaction to being here again, but it doesn’t really do much to make you feel better in the long run. You’re not sure why he’s suddenly attempting to be sweet to you after your previous encounter with him. The ease he has in shifting his attitude makes you just as sick as being in the hall again, but you suppose the warmth is more preferable than the unsettling and disgusting acts.

Dropping your hand from your mouth, you instead place it on one of the bars of the gate while looking at the floor. Yosuke moves in to pet your head and asks with a low voice,

“Shall I take you back?”

It takes you a moment to respond to this question, with your legs still shaking slightly and the rhythm of your heart still at a quick pace. However, you’re able to calm yourself down and shake your head slowly.

“I’ll stay,” you tell him firmly, refusing to look up at the man. “I want to.”

Yosuke promptly drops his hand from you and nods. Your eyes shift to his shoes as you watch your doctor walk away from you, but he strangely doesn’t knock on the records office door frame as usual. Instead, he reaches over to reach the handle of the still-closed, bottommost portion of the door and swings it open while preparing to walk in. You stand up straight immediately at seeing this and widen your eyes.

“What are you doing?” You question him with unease “Why are you going in there?”

Yosuke seems to understand quickly that you’re worried he’ll start talking to Mom about what he promised not to, so he turns slightly to face you and gives a light smile.

“I won’t say a word about you know what,” he promises again. “But I have to discuss something with her either way.”

You’re not sure you believe him after what happened yesterday. You never wholly trusted him to begin with, though. And if you ever did, you’d like not to think so. Although you’re uncertain about what Yosuke intends to do now, you also know you can’t really stop him from doing it. So, you turn your attention back to the floor and stand straight before the gate, awaiting its opening. In moments, you hear the thing loudly drag open as expected. Once you’re able to, you step into the hallway again and try to keep yourself calm and collected. Being here doesn’t exactly make you feel good, but perhaps finally having the chance to get things off your chest will make it less awful. You don’t exactly know if the doctors’ superior will know that you’re opting to do exactly what he told you not to. Then again, he never said you couldn’t discuss it. He merely said to forget about it. But in order to do so, you’d have to be open first, right?

No, you’re sure a stupid excuse like that wouldn’t work on him.

Your eyes flicker nervously upward toward the ceiling as you walk forward, still trying to find where there might be cameras, if any. With such a stern word of warning from the superior as you’d received, you’re sure he has some way of keeping tabs on you and the others. Gale had said he always finds things out one way or another, but you have no idea how he might. Cameras would have to be the only option outside of word-of-mouth. You’re sure of it.

As you approach the rec room doors, you do start to second guess your want to be open despite just yearning to be a moment ago and the whole time you were kept away from here. Perhaps it’s a bad idea. However, you also start to wonder: Would you really be killed for blabbing? Why is it even a big deal? And anyway, Gale said to talk to Cyrus about this. Were they playing another game with you by suggesting you do so to see whether you would? Or were they genuinely implying that you ought to defy their superior’s word and be open about the whole thing? Both Gale and Yosuke seemed to know you were going to talk to the others about what happened while still warning you against it. They’d only said to be careful if you did. Yosuke sounded even more sincere when he said it. This all starts to confuse you even more now, but you aren’t able to think further on it before the doors in front of you open.

Nobody is really around except for a meditating Cyrus seated on the floor by the rightmost couch. Seeing him makes your heart jump. In part this is because it’s been a little while since you have seen him at all, but it's also because seeing him reminds you of the interaction between him and Violet. You’re sure he doesn’t want to be bothered now, but you can’t help but watch him as he sits there with his back straight and his shoulders balanced and relaxed. His eyes are closed, and his chest lightly rises and falls at a steady pace. The backs of Cyrus’ pale hands are resting on either knee. As you step closer, you can see that his index fingers are bent slightly with his thumbs pressing on the sides of them while the rest of his fingers remain open and straight.

Cyrus seems too focused on his own thoughts to really notice you at all, but you don’t bother to interrupt him. Instead, you sit before the young man and mimic his stance, closing your eyes once you’ve gotten into position. It’s been a while since you did this kind of thing with him, and even then, it wasn’t a wholly pleasant experience since Violet was there alongside you, acting passive aggressively. If you recall, it happened at a time you needed peace. After Milos.

Thinking of him now unsettles you, but perhaps your issue with him is merely a drop in the bucket compared to what you’ve endured recently. Being in this position and in silence after your long and hostile break from the group, however, feels soothing to you. As previously instructed, you try to focus your mind, but it still feels slightly jumbled after your recent experiences. It’s not really wrong to think this much when you’re supposed to be connecting with your inner self, is it? Perhaps it’s better that you try to come to terms with this on your own as well as with others. Admittedly, being here is far more effective for you than sex or discussion with a doctor, no matter how kind they are to you on a surface level. However, you still find it hard to wholly concentrate when you have so much information, so many questions buzzing around in your head. You wonder if peace ever will come to you doing something like this. How long does it have to be done before you can come to terms with all the awful things you face? It must depend on the person, right?

“Ten?”

Your eyes shoot open at your name being called. In your long silence, and after having been shielded from the bright light of the room for so long a time by the dark of your closed eyes, you almost see Jay in front of you before your vision can completely refocus. You gasp lightly as this hallucination briefly flashes in your mind, but when you finally do focus again, you instead see a concerned Cyrus sitting there with worry in his wide, bright eyes. He’s dropped his hands by now, and you realize he’d started to reach over to you as he called you. Though, his hand has halted its progress now that you’ve shaken back to awareness.

You’re not sure what to say to Cyrus now, despite being happy to see a familiar, trusted face after everything that’s happened. The only thing you can really muster is a low, sheepish,

“…Hi.”

You end up looking away nervously as you say it. You’re not sure why you’re so hesitant all of a sudden.

“Is that all you have to say…?” Cyrus doesn’t sound particularly upset, rather still utterly worried. “Ten, what happened to you? You’ve been gone a few days. Just before you left, we all heard a loud bang in the hallway. I didn’t want to assume the worst but…”

His eyes drop as he trails off.

“We were worried. I didn’t know you were in the hall then until the girls told me. When I found out I didn’t know what the hell to think.”

“I’m sorry,” you mindlessly apologize for reasons you don’t know. It isn’t your fault that it all happened, but perhaps this is just a bad habit of yours you can’t shake. You’d done the same with Lav.

“Don’t apologize,” Cyrus exhales as if to laugh, but he doesn’t muster one. He seems to want to remain upbeat, but you can tell in his weary voice that he’s shaken up himself. Unsure of what else to say, he reaches his hand over toward one of yours. He hesitates a moment before letting his skin make contact, but eventually settles his hand atop yours.

“I’m really glad you’re safe, Ten,” he says honestly, his fingers curling slightly on your skin. He then looks up at your sullen face and frowns slightly.

“What happened?”

“A lot,” you respond bluntly. You’re finding it hard to speak more than a few words at a time right now, but try nonetheless. “I want to tell you, but…”

Your eyes then dart around the room’s ceiling nervously. You’re not sure whether or not you should be open right now. The earlier thoughts you had just a moment ago are amplified now that you’re actually confronted with the opportunity to be open rather than willfully waiting for it to happen. Are there cameras? Are you being watched? Are you going to be killed if you open your mouth about what you saw?

Mindlessly, you turn your hand around and squeeze Cyrus’ a little too hard, and he pulls back slightly while wincing and making a light, pained grunt.

“Sorry,” you apologize again. “I…I’m just really nervous.”

“Why?” Your companion looks at you with a raised brow. His tone remains gentle, though his face is still wrought with concern.

“I’m worried we’re being watched,” You admit, holding onto your arms and keeping your voice a bit low. “I was told to stay quiet but…”

Cyrus frowns again.

“Were you threatened?”

“Yes,” you admit. “Well…I was and wasn’t all at once. I was given a warning. I can’t explain it but maybe you know what I mean. If we had somewhere private to talk, maybe…”

You trail off again and scowl, finding it hard to get the words out.

“You’re scared to,” Cyrus makes a quick connection. “It’s alright if you are. What’s important now is that you’re safe. But I’m sure it’s better you don’t hold whatever you have to say in so much either…”

You ponder where you could possibly cheat the eyes of any potential cameras. You’re sure you’re just paranoid for no reason, but you can’t shake the idea of it after the warning you received from the doctors’ superior and after hearing Gale’s note about how he finds things out eventually. Would you also be endangering others by telling them? That scares you even more.

Most all the rooms are wide open to any potential cameras. The only ones you can think of that might be safe are the theater, with its awning-laden beds, and the crafts room, with its tables. Thinking of the latter causes you to conclude that cameras wouldn’t be able to see under the tables at all, and sound from a conversation might be easier to hide. With the beds, there may still be a chance that any cameras in the theater would be facing against the awnings and still leave you exposed. And even if it’s going to be obvious what you intend to discuss under the table, there wouldn’t be any proof that you said it. Perhaps that would protect you even a little.

Promptly, you straighten your back up at the possibility of a safe space to talk being made aware to you. This reaction makes your friend more alert, as he didn’t seem to expect this from you.

“I have an idea,” you tell him, grabbing his hand. “Come with me.”

Cyrus looks at you a moment, but you quickly stand up and bring him with you before he has a chance to really react. Unsure of what you’re doing, your friend lets you lead him out of the rec room by his hand. As you walk out of the room and into the hallway, the uneasiness in your stomach rises again, but you try to remain focused on your task. However, you’re taken aback severely by the cafeteria doors opening loudly as you pass them. This causes you to jump slightly and drop Cyrus’ hand as you stop walking. Cyrus turns his head toward the doors, but you glance just briefly at the corridor crossroad from beyond the gate just before shaking yourself back to your senses and looking on at the actual source of the noise. At the entrance to the cafeteria is Lav, whose amber eyes immediately lock onto you the moment she recognizes your profile.

Her eyes widen greatly as she sees you, and without giving you a chance to react, Lav moves quickly toward you and wraps her arms around you in a tight hug. Your hands remain at your sides for a moment as she embraces you, but you soon reciprocate her hug with one of your own, leaning your head forward with your chin resting against her shoulder.

“I knew it had to be you,” She speaks lowly, her voice almost shaking. After a moment, she pulls back. “I heard the gate open and started looking for you. I-’ve been keeping an ear out every day since you left.”

She looks at you with saddened eyes, but remains composed otherwise. She even tries to smile somewhat. You’re unsure if she’s holding back, or if she just isn’t able to bring herself to fully cry.

“You scared the shit out of me, Ten. I was so worried that…”

She shakes her head and refuses to finish her thought, letting her sentence trail off. “I didn’t want to believe it. I tried to hold on to the hope that you were okay. After you left and we heard gunshots, I-“

Suddenly, the three of you hear loud but somewhat muffled yelling coming from down the hall by the gate, and you realize it’s coming from your doctor. His voice gradually starts to become clearer, and it dawns on you that he had been talking with Mom this entire time but is now starting to exit the office. Lav lets you go entirely as she watches the gate intently.

In moments, you see your doctor’s frame partially from the office door, and this causes you to panic. Without letting your friends react, you grab both Lav and Cyrus’ hands and lead them toward the crafts room. They both seem surprised by your gesture, but you push them into the room once the doors are open and stand by yourself in the hall, letting the doors shut again.

You turn your head toward the gate and see Yosuke more clearly as he’s trying to end the conversation. Whatever it is he’s saying you can’t quite make out, but he sounds genuinely angry. Even though you can’t hear his words, you can definitely hear his barking tone. It’s one you’ve never heard him use before. You can almost hear Mom shouting something out herself, but evidently she’s far further into the office, enough for you to only hear the vague muffled sounds of her furious voice. In a huff, Yosuke turns himself around and exits the office, but stops when he catches sight of you standing by yourself. He doesn’t bother to smile at you, merely looking on with a focused face before shifting his eyes away. He says nothing before walking off entirely.

This spectacle confuses you utterly. You can’t imagine what could possibly have set your doctor off so much, but you know for certain you never want to piss him off that bad yourself. You already upset him once by lying, and that didn’t go particularly well for you. Strangely though, he seems to have gotten verbal with Mom this time whereas he’s always been silent in his seething. You’re not sure which kind of anger is worse.

However, now that this moment has passed, you turn your attention back to the crafts room and enter it. There, you’re faced with a patiently waiting Lav and Cyrus. They both seem to understand why you ushered them so quickly into the room, at least.

Being faced with the area now sends a rush of discomfort through your body. It’s been a while since you were here, and it feel strange to come back to the room after what happened with Cyrus. Mindlessly, your eyes wander to the cardboard dolls on the wall and, you immediately lock onto the one of Jade. A part of you is glad it’s still there. While it makes you uncomfortable to be here again, seeing the silly-looking doll almost makes you want to smile at the memory of building it with Three and Cyrus.

Despite the strange feeling returning to the crafts room again brings you, you think it’s likely the best place to get some privacy from any possible looming cameras. When your eyes shift around the rest of the room, you’re surprised to catch sight of Eight at one of the furthest tables from you, his back turned to the three of you by the door and his left arm moving around as if to indicate that he’s writing something. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you three yet, unless he’s choosing not to acknowledge that others are here with him.

Both Lav and Cyrus look at you as if awaiting a reaction or a word of some sort, but all you end up doing is walking slowly toward Eight. Hesitantly, you call out his Number, and it’s this that makes him sit up and turn his head slightly until he can clearly see you from the corner of his eye. Seeing a part of his profile makes you uneasy as it reminds you again of Yosuke, but you try to remind yourself once more that they’re completely separate people. You notice that Eight’s eye widens ever so slightly as he sees you, but the young man returns to his work immediately after his slight reaction to your presence. From over his shoulder, you can see him writing text notes on an oversized piece of paper that has had musical notes drawn onto it. He seems to be referencing a music book that’s open and placed by the corner of the paper.

“I figured you’d turn up,” Eight says simply, trying to remain composed and focused. He appears not to want to make your appearance a big deal, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s being sincere with his statement. If only in his own way.

“I’m glad to see you too,” you almost laugh weakly. “All of you.”

Cyrus and Lav join your side and look over Eight’s shoulder as well.

“What are you doing?” Lav questions, folding her arms. “I’ve never known you to come to the crafts room of all places.”

“I wasn’t even aware you were here,” Cyrus chimes in admittedly. “I kind of didn’t stop to see who was around, really. I’ve been meditating for a long while.”

“I saw,” Lav slightly chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “You were so focused you didn’t even see me when I came in, so I just let you do your thing.”

You feel happy hearing your friends talking casually again, though you continue to eye the ceiling incessantly in your lingering nervousness.

“Anyway, you wanna tell us where you’ve been? And why we’re in here?” Lav addresses you now. “I saw you leading Cyrus around. You okay?”

“I needed to talk to him,” you sheepishly admit, rubbing your arm. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone else.”

“Did you want me to leave?”

“No!” You raise your hand slightly, trying not to offend the girl even if she hadn’t sounded particularly hurt and was merely asking a genuine question. “You can stay. I don’t mind. I’m really glad to see you, honestly. You guys really have no idea.”

You sigh.

“But, for as much as I want to explain what happened, I’m a bit worried about being open right now. I want to be, really. I’m just scared about saying what I need to.”

“What happened must have been important if you’re this afraid of consequence,” Eight points out as he continues to scribble on the paper in ink, his strokes meticulous and slow. “I can figure out what happened just by that alone.”

“No, you can’t,” you respond with a frown. “Please, Eight, I don’t need your snideness right now. I have a lot to deal with. You can’t possibly know what I’ve been through.”

“Fair enough,” Eight seems to shrug this off, but you can tell he’s gotten the message. Lav merely looks over his shoulder again and raises a brow.

“…What’s with the chart, anyway?” She questions, now moving around the table and sitting across from Eight. This gesture makes him pout.

“Did I say you could sit with me?” He asks condescendingly. Lav merely places an elbow on the table and rests her head in her hand.

“Nope.”

Her casual brushing of Eight’s statement off causes the grey-clothed young man to sigh, but he doesn’t bother to fight the girl.

“I’m writing up musical notation and some text notes for my first lesson,” he explains, returning to his work. “I stupidly told Five and Six I’d teach them music, so I’m going to stick to my word.”

Hearing the mention of the girls saddens you suddenly. Knowing that there’s a possibility their relationship was a setup only hurts you knowing how much they really do care about one another. But, like the relationship the twins have, it’s yet another thing you have to deal with knowing.

“When did he say that?” Cyrus’ voice shakes you from your thoughts as he questions Lav.

“After you left the gym the other day,” the lavender girl explains with a light laugh, then addresses Eight again. “I didn’t think you were actually gonna go through with it.

Eight sighs. “Well, as much as I’d like not to bother, I’d equally like to keep my word and not be seen as selective by refusing to do what I said I would for them when I kept my bargain with Ten. I said what I said in the moment like a fool, but it can’t be helped now. So, I’m doing this. At least it’s something that actually interests me.”

Lav laughs slightly in amusement at this, while Cyrus, who’s still standing by you, turns his head toward you and grabs your hand gently. He looks at you with focus and asks,

“Do you still want to talk here?”

You nod. “Yes. It has to be here. It’s okay if they’re here too. Maybe I need it.”

“As long as you aren’t loud, I suppose you can stay,” Eight chimes in while still scribbling on the paper. Lav looks up at you from where she’s sitting, but does not bother to blink an eye when she glances at Cyrus’ hand holding yours. You’re happy she isn’t reacting strangely to it despite knowing about him what she does now. You know she’d said she was okay with you being around others in any way you wanted to be, but you still feel a bit bad out of habit. Cyrus’ gesture now is merely casual and comforting, but even then, you still feel like you have to remain in guilt for being anywhere near him. The situation with Violet didn’t necessarily make you feel confident about it. Having Lav, who you know deeply cares for you, treat it casually is a strange but welcome change of pace.

“Why specifically here?” she asks curiously. “I mean it’s fine, but it’s strange.”

You look down a bit and walk toward the table. Cyrus lets your hand go and follows, sitting to Lav’s left while you sit to her right. Once everyone’s been positioned, you surprise them by instead moving under the table, motioning for them to follow. All three Numbers raise a brow to this gesture, and even Eight stops what he’s doing to look at you strangely.

You lay on your stomach and duck your head under the table. Hesitantly, Lav and Cyrus follow. The two look at you with confusion as they join you under the table. Before anyone has the chance to ask, you promptly explain to them what you need to.

“I’m afraid there might be cameras around.” You look down at the pink floor before you and frown. “I don’t know if there really are, but after what happened to me and after I was told to keep my mouth shut, I’m really not sure I trust it.”

Before Lav and Cyrus can respond, they’re surprised by Eight sighing from above them and begrudgingly joining everyone under the table.

“I can’t work with you three at my feet,” he grumbles. “It’s weird.”

“Then welcome,” Lav chuckles. “This isn’t too bad though. The floor’s a bit cold, but it is actually pretty private under here.”

“And even if it isn’t really, it makes me feel a bit better to be covered somehow,” you admit, looking away. “I’m sure if anyone’s watching, they’ll know what I’m going to say. But if they can’t hear it or see it, then maybe…I don’t know, maybe it’ll keep me a little safe.”

You sigh.

“I don’t even know where to begin with what happened, though. Everything went so fast. Parts of my mind don’t even want to believe it really happened.”

“Start wherever you feel most comfortable,” Lav answers with a light smile. “No pressure or anything. If you need to switch topics or take a break, you absolutely can.”

You glance at Cyrus.

“Is it okay if I bring up what happened with Mom? I think I should start there. I never got to talk to you about it.”

This question makes the young man blink at you, but he nods in response. You had only wanted to discuss that with him, but since you have a lot to get off your chest anyway, you suppose it’s best to do it while you can. You turn your head to look at Lav then.

“They know something happened, but you don’t,” you explain. “The day we saw each other in the hall, something happened with Mom. I really don’t want to go into detail about it, but she did exactly what you think she would. She was really aggressive about it too, and she locked all the doors so nobody would bother us.”

“Of course she would,” Lav looks down, glowering slightly. “It was disgusting enough hearing what she did with Cyrus and another Number, but that’s…”

She trails off a moment. “She’s an awful woman that way. I’m so sorry you had to deal with her.”

“She tried to bait me out of the gate too,” you add, shuddering as you recall the encounter with the woman. “She kept telling me to just run, but I didn’t fall for it. And that entire time she had me there she kept teasing me about…”

You glance at Cyrus without saying it, but he seems to understand what you’re referring to. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes drop to the floor. Eight seems to catch sight of this silent exchange and immediately frowns and lowers a brow.

“So it was you two,” he gathers quite quickly. This causes both you and Cyrus to look at him nervously, but your royal blue companion slowly and subtly nods, confirming this. His cheeks grow ever so slightly red at having this fact pointed out to him, though he remains composed otherwise. Lav rolls her eyes around as if debating on whether to add to this, but ultimately holds her tongue and pretends she didn’t know to begin with because of what you told her.

“Is it that obvious…?” Cyrus asks the brown-haired young man. Eight merely smirks.

“For as much as you two seem to want to keep it a secret, you do give off far too many clues in your body language,” he mentions. It strikes you as strange that he’d pick up on this easily. Then again, you’ve always known him to be in the background, observing others…almost like Gale. Perhaps the doctor was able to read your body language too, though this thought upsets you. You’re reminded as well about Gale’s discussion with Yosuke, how they’d mentioned knowing you were hiding things from them. Are you that easy to read?

“Anyway, it means nothing to me,” Eight waves his hand around slightly, and his voice snaps you out of your questioning thoughts. “Nor do I care to gossip about it to others. It’s not a big deal. Though you have my condolences regarding how that disgusting woman treats you. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” you express your gratitude, then clench your fists slightly. “It wasn’t a good experience for me, but I suppose it never is with her. After what she did in the hall, my doctor came and saved me. He was really mad at her for what she did, and he even rattled her up a bit before taking me away. I said she was punished for it after. But at the time, I saw workers going to pick her up before I stopped seeing her entirely for a while. I didn’t know what happened to her until a while later.”

“I thought it was strange that she disappeared so suddenly,” Cyrus muses, sounding almost eager to move on from the previous topic. “After I heard you two from the pool, I was brought to my room and back here later by Lilah. I didn’t even know she was able to open my door, unless someone opened it for her or she was given a temporary code. But I thought it was strange. I had no idea what to really think at the time. Still, Mom’s acted out before. Enough to get a slap on the wrist once or twice.”

“Has she always been like that?” Lav asks curiously. “You would know more than anyone.”

“Yes, she has,” Cyrus confirms. “But not nearly as bad before. I think it’s gotten worse with time. Still, she was always crazy and weird, always obsessing over something, always toying with people. She gets off on being how she is. There’s definitely spottiness in my memories of her from way back when I first came here, but from what I know, she has always been pretty despicable. She’s even gotten into trouble a few times for messing with other Numbers in ways she shouldn’t. Her boss is very keen on whatever system he has here. He doesn’t seem to like surprises from her, yet she never listens no matter what he does to her. I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten rid of her if he doesn’t seem to tolerate a lot of things she does.”

“She acted strangely with me as well,” Eight adds, scowling at the memory. “For a while, anyway. I’m not sure if it was because of Yosuke, or if it’s because she saw him in me. She was attached to me for a while, though. She tried to play her stupid little mind games with me, had her disgusting physical fun with me. I didn’t fall for anything she pulled, but she seemed to find my stubbornness almost entertaining. She was never bored by it. Even Yosuke got tired of it after a while. But it wasn’t until after he left me that the woman started to lessen her tricks. She still acts strange with me because it entertains her, but she’s far less adamant about doing so than she used to be.”

“So…will Yosuke get tired of me if I keep being stubborn…?” You ask hesitantly. Eight looks at you sternly with his green eyes and shakes his head.

“I was stubborn in a way far different than you. I was stubborn and unreceptive. You’re not. He toys with your feelings and gets far more successful results than he had with me. I refused to budge at all. Because he couldn’t reach me even a little, he got bored quickly. But from what you’ve told me, he’s managed to worm his way into your heart and your mind. That’s why I tell you to keep fighting as much as you can.”

You look down.

“Am I that pathetic?”

Eight remains fixated on you, his face unemotive as he speaks. “Do you want my honest answer? Or do you want the one that will make you feel better?”

“Knock that off, Eight,” Lav frowns, sensing your growing disappointment. “Now’s not the time.”

“I’m not much of a people person, but I wasn’t going to be hurtful without reason,” The young man grumbles in response. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have to repeat myself about what I think you should do.”

“It’s not like I don’t try,” you sigh. “I really do. But…”

“It’s not your fault if you have a hard time doing so,” Cyrus tries to assure you. “We all know how hard it is.”

“Don’t mind Eight, really,” Lav chuckles subtly while joking. “You know how he is.”

Eight pouts, but he doesn’t comment further on Mom or Yosuke, nor does he respond to Lav’s statement. You look up at everyone and frown again.

“Mom and Yosuke have constantly been a thorn in my side,” you mention, trying to refocus the topic. “And the longer I stay here, the more I think maybe there’s some truth to something my doctor told me. When he tried to deal with me after what happened with Mom, he mentioned that they had a light fling before he came here. He told me that it’s because of her that he even came here to begin with.”

Both your hands ball up tighter.

“I didn’t want to believe what he said was true, but the more I see of them, the more I’m starting to think it is.”

Cyrus shakes his head. “I wouldn’t doubt it. She hung around him now and again a while back. I didn’t think much of it, but I wasn’t really focused on them anyway. There was a lot going on back then.”

“I’d personally be surprised if the doctors weren’t all just fucking each other,” Lav mentions bitterly. “Either we’re not enough to satiate their desires and they go at it, or we’re just an addition to what they already do together.”

“I don’t think they’re all fond of one another,” Eight points out. “Mother and Lilah never seem to get along too well despite having to work together here. I dislike their periodic cattiness when they catch each other by the office. I always have to stand there and listen to it.”

“Really?” Lav seems taken aback by this. “With how fucked Lilah is, I’m surprised she and Ma aren’t good friends.”

“I’d rather they weren’t,” Eight scrunches up his face in disgust. “They’re terrible individually as it is.”

“It’s not really just the women that are catty, you know,” Cyrus chimes in. “Violet’s told me that Micah and Sven don’t really get along either.”

“I gathered that much,” You add with a scoff, disgusted at the mention of Sven. “He badmouthed Micah on a visit with me recently.”

Your mind then shifts to the mention of Violet, and you start to feel heaviness in your heart again. You look at Cyrus worriedly.

“Have you talked to Vi since that day? Do you know how she’s doing?”

Cyrus drops his eyes to the side but shakes his head.

“I haven’t seen her around,” He admits sullenly. “I don’t know what else I can say to her if and when she decides to talk to me again. I’m worried about her, though. I just want her to be okay again. I want to talk to her like I usually do. For as much of a frustration she could be, she’s still a good friend who I care about.”

“She’s just avoiding everyone,” Lav tries to explain assuredly. “A few of the girls saw her the other day in the hall but they didn’t know whether to approach her. She didn’t really give anyone a chance to say anything anyway and just went off to another room. I think right now she’s just trying to isolate herself, but she’s at least still around.”

“I feel bad that I had to hurt her like that,” Cyrus lightly shakes his head. “But I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I don’t even know if I did the right thing.”

“What? Exactly what was the point of me and Two talking to you, then?” Eight raises a brow. “We spent all that time making you feel better and you go right back into your self-pitying spiel. You and your goddamn feelings.”

“Hey, I can’t help how I respond to things,” Cyrus almost laughs. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You went on a while trying to explain the way you feel about things to try showing us how she might be feeling.”

“That wasn’t supposed to leave the room,” Eight scowls again, his cheeks growing slightly red.

Cyrus casually shrugs a shoulder. “Whoops.”

Hearing that Cyrus and Eight have a bit of closeness now makes you happy, though you only muster a weak, half-hearted smile.

“So even you have a soul,” Lav teases, laughing at this news. “You really tried to stick up for her, huh?”

Eight sighs and closes his eyes. “We have similarities to some extent. I can see where she’s coming from about certain things, though that doesn’t mean I can wholly rationalize her reactions to them. Unlike her, I’m not exactly the emotional type.”

“Well, I’m glad you at least care a little,” Cyrus smiles slightly. “And I did talk to Nine later too, so I didn’t just lay things out with you and Two.”

“You two talked?” Your attention turns to this statement. Cyrus nods.

“Well…after you disappeared, we were pretty stressed,” he explains. “Yesterday, we just sort of happened to be around together and we started really talking a lot.”

“Yeah, we even meditated a little together,” Lav adds happily. “I never really tried it before. It was super relaxing. I’m never the kind of person who likes to sit still for too long. I always prefer to do something.”

“I mean, you could always practice the more physical aspects of yoga,” Cyrus shrugs. “You get to move around a little that way. Meditation is more for concentration and sorting out your own thoughts and your spiritual energy. I prefer it myself because I always have something on my mind.”

“If you get to move your body a little, I’m all for it,” Lav enthusiastically responds. She then turns her attention back to you. “Sorry, we’re not here to talk about stuff like this, are we?”

“It’s alright,” you assure her, trying to smile slightly. “I’m glad you guys are getting along.”

Lav pauses a moment and frowns, but reaches her hand over to touch yours.

“Hey…I know I sound super casual about all of this, but believe me when I say we were really worried about you. Everyone was. Nobody really knew what to expect after we heard those noises. The boys had no idea you were in the hall, but because most of us girls did, we were seriously scared that you…”

She doesn’t finish her statement, but you understand completely what she meant to say.

“But if it wasn’t you, then obviously it was someone else,” Eight speaks up, his tone now grave. He remains with his gaze fixated on the floor as if in thought. “I’m assuming you saw something terrible, in that case.”

Despite the brief distraction from your feelings about everything that happened, you’re now faced with them once again. It pains you to have to think about it now, but you’re also sure that holding it in will only cause you to suffer further.

“Are you okay?” Cyrus asks, seeing your distraught face. You look up at him hesitantly but try to assure him that you are.

“Everything was a mess that day,” you mention, removing your hand from Lav’s and brushing some hair nervously behind your ear. “I’ve been sick to my stomach since I saw what I saw. After what happened with Violet, I was so frustrated and I just needed time to think. I went to the hall just to get some time to breathe on my own. I was going to go to a room, but at the time I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to run into anyone. I didn’t want to have to face anyone.”

“I should have gone after you,” Lav chides herself stubbornly. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to suffer alone.”

“No,” you shake your head and speak firmly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to drag you into this too. As it is, I sort of am just by mentioning it. I don’t know if I’ll get in trouble for this. I know for a fact they’re going to at least notice what we’re doing.”

“They?” Cyrus questions, staring intently at you with his aqua eyes. You hang your head slightly and let your hair fall along your cheeks as you face the floor.

“I…met the doctors’ boss,” you admit. “I didn’t think I would. After I got into the hall, one of the other doors opened and there was a girl there. Someone like us.”

“What?” Lav is taken aback by this, though the boys merely look on at you with widening eyes. Even Eight seems focused on what you have to say.

“Her name was Jay,” you explain. “She was a part of some other group. One that uses letters instead of numbers. She said she got her doctor’s door code by spending a long time listening to the sounds each key made when they pressed them. She didn’t get to explain everything in detail, but she said she managed to escape that way and started trying to find a way out.”

“What did she look like?” Cyrus asks curiously.

“She wore orange. She was a little thin, she had this red and brown hair and eyes almost as blue as yours. She had a few injuries too, but she seemed fine otherwise.”

“Orange…?” Cyrus mumbles to himself, but shakes his head from a thought.

“So there are other groups for sure, then,” Eight mutters, looking away and biting his thumbnail. “I don’t really like that.”

“But we figured that was the case to begin with,” Cyrus adds as he focuses again on the topic at hand. “Ten, did she say anything else?”

“No,” you look up again, eyeing the other three Numbers before you. “She didn’t have time to. All she said was what she did to try escaping. She seemed to think she wasn’t going to make it out alive, and she was right. Jay tried to tell me the code, but a man came through the other hall and shot her. Twice.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you say this, but you try to contain yourself.

“Was it him?” Eight questions, his voice firm and low. His face is tensed up, but you can’t tell what exactly he’s feeling. You shake your head.

“It was someone else,” you continue to explain. “But I recognized him for some reason. I still don’t know why. And after he killed Jay, Mom came out of the office and saw her on the floor. She noticed me, but she didn’t really acknowledge me. Before anyone could really say anything, their boss showed up too with a few workers. Nobody seemed the least bit concerned that Jay was dead. I watched her bleed out on the floor and all they did was just talk about how to handle her. The men spoke about Jay like she was some kind of a nuisance or thing instead of a person.”

You shut your eyes and ball your fists, tightening your grip.

“The man with guns knocked me over and pinned me down,” you recount, trying to keep yourself composed despite hating having to relive this again. “The boss asked me my name, but I was so scared I said something stupid and he kicked me. He didn’t try to kill me. He didn’t even tell me anything at all other than to forget what I saw. He just walked away after that. I didn’t have the chance to ask questions or anything either. All I could do was let the man pinning me down put me out. Everything happened so quickly, yet it was all so fucking awful.”

Your eyes begin to grow wet, though you don’t necessarily start to bawl. Tears subtly stream down your face, rather. In frustration, you wipe them away, but they continue to flow slowly regardless. You then look up at Cyrus and ask him desperately,

“Have you seen anything like this before? You said you’ve seen people die, right?”

The young man looks at you with wide, but sympathetic eyes. Lav and Eight remain silent meanwhile, simply looking on between you and Cyrus now.

“I have,” is his initial, sullen response. He looks away from you as he says this, almost as if nervous about bringing it up. “Two witnessed, one discovered, and two implicit. I don’t know if you want to hear how. Still, I’ve never caught anyone running away like that. I’ve only known of one person who kept talking about making plans to run in desperation after losing someone they cared about, but they disappeared immediately after they talked about it. They never said what their plan was, but they seemed adamant on escaping nonetheless. They were scared. I don’t know if they were found out, or if they tried something and were killed. But I never saw them again. I very much doubt the people here brush that kind of thing off. And with what you’ve witnessed, I know that’s certain.”

He sighs.

“It’s been a long time since then. But a ‘long time’ can mean anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, or even years. We’d never know the difference with how much time blends together here. We can only ever keep track of a few days at a time. And even then, it’s better not to think about it.”

“What about Olive? And the other Eight?” You question Cyrus suddenly as you’re reminded of the journal entries about the previous group from Six’s perspective. Your gaze remains focused intensely on him as your heart begins to beat faster. Cyrus widens his eyes slightly as he seems taken aback by this question.

“…They…disappeared suddenly a long time ago,” he answers hesitantly. “Eight’s the one who said she wanted to run. How do you even know about them?”

“I read about them briefly in a journal,” you answer promptly. By now, your tears have slowed their pace. “After what happened in the hall, I was put out and I woke up with Gale in Six’s room. Yosuke took me there to have Gale watch over me because his boss called him to talk about what happened. But the whole time I was there, Gale kept trying to get me to talk about what I saw and felt, and when I did, they left the room for a bit. I found a journal in Six’s desk and it was full of entries from when she was in the previous group.”

“Hold on,” Eight interrupts you and Cyrus before either of you can say anything more. “You told them everything?”

“No, of course not,” you shake your head. “I held some things in.”

“But you explained what happened in the hall openly? Why?”

“I don’t know.” This is the truth. You wanted to get everything off your chest so eagerly you even let yourself be somewhat honest with Gale. Even knowing that they couldn’t be trusted, you found it far too easy to talk to them at first. “But they seemed to just want me to explain myself. They kept warning me to be quiet, but they also seemed to know I would talk to some of you regardless.”

“They were trying to fish for information,” Eight scowls. “They wanted to figure you out and you let them. You shouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“What was I supposed to do, then?!” You raise your voice angrily. “I was scared! I wasn’t able to think clearly about anything. I didn’t even want to think about it to begin with, but I couldn’t just hold it in.”

“Eight, people don’t always think rationally when they’re afraid or upset,” Cyrus reminds the grey-clothed young man. “You should know that by now. It’s hardly practical to place such high expectations on people. Even if it might be considered common sense, that all tends to be thrown out in certain moments. I speak from experience and observation alike.”

“Besides, you should know,” Lav adds with a frown. “You defended Violet, you offered to teach Five and Six, you helped Ten. None of that was necessary, but you did it anyway even if it wasn’t in line with your oh-so practical methods. Do you know exactly why you did those things?”

“Don’t remind me,” Eight scowls. “But fine. I can accept that you feel what you feel, Ten, but it still stands that you need to be far more careful about these things when you can afford to think clearly about it.”

“What about the journal?” Cyrus asks you in want of refocusing the topic. “I didn’t even know Six kept one. She never really mentioned it before.”

“She tells Five everything more than us,” Lav points out, moving some stray hair behind her ear. “You know how those two are and how often they’re together.”

You wince slightly hearing this, but don’t comment on it.

“Gale gave it to her,” you explain in answer to Cyrus’ question. “They said it was because they wanted her to be more open, but I guess it was ultimately just to keep tabs on her. Maybe even others. Six seemed to know right away that Gale was reading her entries, but even though she said she’d refrain from opening up, she was open enough to use people’s nicknames and talk about how she felt. Especially in later entries. Her words felt so casual.”

“Gale’s easy to talk to,” Cyrus admits, looking down. “They’re still a doctor, but sometimes you wind up explaining more than you mean to around them. And even then, they seem very good at reading people.”

“I personally wouldn’t know,” Eight retorts with a light scoff. “Gale doesn’t much see me. I’ve met them before, but they don’t seem fond of me.”

“You two have a similar habit though,” You say aloud despite only having thought it earlier. “Gale had said they’d always observed others, that they enjoyed it. In their case, it was willingly. I don’t know about you.”

“I only observe others because I don’t have much else to do at times,” The green-eyed young man pouts. But observing others does teach you a lot about people. I’m assuming they said the same thing?”

You frown. “Exactly the same.”

“Their specialty is likely psychology in that case. I’d hardly care anyway,” Eight responds bitterly. “We’re not the least bit similar. In fact, I really doubt there’s a doctor here that I’m like. The only reason I know more about these kinds of interests is because of how much I study. Anyway, like I said, Gale doesn’t much seem to care for me. Perhaps it’s because of my attitude. I don't know, but I don’t much want to bother to.”

“A lot of people don’t like your attitude,” Lav points out. She almost sounds like she’s joking, but you think she’s being sincere. “Maybe in your case, that’s a good thing. They’ll leave you alone that way.”

This makes Eight glower, as if finding the statement outlandish and stupid. “No, not necessarily.”

You hesitate to continue speaking about the journal, but with this lapse in the conversation now ending, you try to be as open as possible about what you found. Continuing on with the topic at hand, you keep speaking.

“I didn’t read everything in that journal, but I did read one mention of a girl named Olive, and of the previous Eight. That’s the only reason I knew about them. And one of the last entries mentioned Jade and the previous Ten, but the page was cut off before more could be said about either of them.”

“What did the entry say…?” Cyrus asks with a low voice. You’re sure he wants to know about Jade, but you shake your head in response.

“Hardly anything of use. It mentioned that Jade had just disappeared and that Ten was growing more distant. Nothing else.”

You refrain from bringing up the mention of Cyrus in the entry. You’re not sure he’d really like hearing that Six spoke of him or how he’d even react to knowing she did.

“They don’t want us knowing about him,” Lav sighs. “Truthfully, none of us really remember him well. Blue thinks he doesn’t exist. I hardly knew him to begin with. Any memory I have of him is just as if he were a shadow. I know nothing other than that he was one of us.”

“I’m the same way,” Eight nods in agreement. “I don’t remember a thing about him. I only know that he was and is no longer.”

“I don’t want to pry,” Cyrus shakes his head. “I want to know why we can’t know about him. Why I struggle to remember his face or who he was, why it hurts my head to even think about it. But maybe it’s better we don’t know. Like I said before, trying to get information we’re not supposed to know about can be dangerous. There are obviously instances where it can’t be helped, but I wouldn’t push my luck on trying to understand things.”

“Even Yosuke had said to be careful.” Remembering your doctor and speaking of him makes you grimace. “He knew I was going to talk to you guys. He knew it was risky. I don’t know why he and Gale seemed adamant on telling me not to be open about this while simultaneously accepting it would happen. Gale had even told me to talk to you, Cyrus. They thought you’d understand how to help me.”

“Did Yosuke even try to console you himself after what happened?” Lav questions, balling her fists. You again shake your head, though you wince as you recall what happened.

“He said he figured I wouldn’t have listened to anything he’d have to say,” you answer honestly. “He might have been right. I was stupidly open with Gale, but I would have been bitter and hushed had I been with Yosuke, maybe because I’m mad about all the things he does to me. I didn’t see him until after that day I was stuck with Gale. But he didn’t exactly treat me nicely.”

You shut your eyes again.

“He used me. But it was different this time around. He was mad at me. You guys know by now what Mom had me and Cyrus do. But she also made me promise not to tell Yosuke, even threatened Cyrus herself. So when my doctor confronted me after the second time she acted out in the hall with me, he made me promise to be honest with him. He wanted to know why she had already been injured. He told me not to lie to him, but I did. I was too afraid of what might happen if I didn’t.”

Eight looks as though he wants to reprimand you again, but he doesn’t, instead holding his tongue.

“I know it was stupid,” you self-reflect for him. “I figured out how stupid I was after Yosuke tried to punish me for lying. He found out about what happened through his boss, and so he did something awful to me after he got back. He didn’t just fuck me. He drugged me too. He made me enjoy it.”

Hearing this makes Lav bitterly furrow her brows. “I’ve never known a doctor other than Milos to use substances during sex. That’s just cruel.”

This statement takes you aback. You hadn’t once considered comparing what both men did. Milos’ treatment of you was horrific, painful, and rough. You didn’t enjoy it whatsoever, you even begged for it to stop. With Yosuke, it seemed opposite. He brought you a pleasure you’d never felt before. Everything about him felt good, and all of your misery melted away. However, you were completely at his mercy and the drug’s. Both men were cruel, if merely in different ways. Yosuke used you the same way as Milos had, even if his intentions were different and even if he hadn’t physically hurt you. You aren’t even sure if he kept going when you passed out, but the thought that he might have only sickens you. It would surprise you very little, then, if Yosuke had used you in your sleep at any point in time despite promising he wouldn’t. You have no way of knowing, but you’d rather not know anyway.

“It wasn’t just any kind of drug,” You shake your head, trying to focus again. “It was something Yosuke said was made here. Some kind of weird, disgusting sex drug that makes you lose all control. You have no idea how horrifying it was to be unable to fight at all. I was completely aware of what was happening, but halfway in, I stopped hating it. I…I wasn’t myself at all. I even stupidly begged him to fuck me!”

You bury your head in your hands.

“It felt so fucking good to be on that drug,” you frustratedly admit. “I even wanted more of it after everything was over, even after it had passed through me. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but when I realized what had happened, I hated myself for acting like I did, but I couldn’t help it. Whatever he gave me just threw out every ounce of resistance I had.”

“There’s…really a drug like that?” Cyrus seems shocked. “I’ve never heard of anything like it before. If they had this to begin with, then why-”

“They won’t use it on you,” you cut him off, lowering your hands and giving a deep sigh. “Yosuke said it was something he had to ask to use because it was a dangerous drug. He said it was addictive. As it is, he gave me a small dose of it and it still fucked me up that bad. Unless he lied like he usually does. But even now I almost want to go back to feeling good because, at least then, I didn’t have to think or suffer. I don’t want to suffer. But Yosuke said he wouldn’t give me anymore because of how addictive it is. That’s all I know about it. He didn’t explain much and said he couldn’t anyway. I was too angry at him to think properly enough to ask him a million questions.”

“Why would they even make a drug like that to begin with if they aren’t going to use it here?” Eight ponders, looking down in thought. “I almost can’t believe they’d manufacture something so vile. I’d always figured they’d made things like the anesthetic they use on us here, but I never thought something like this existed.”

“So, none of you have ever experienced this before?” You question worriedly. All three Numbers shake their heads.

“I’m hardly surprised Yosuke would go that far,” Eight speaks up after a brief silence. “But it’s still disgusting that he hurt you that way. To lose control is a terrible thing. I can’t imagine how horrifying it must have been for you.”

You’re surprised he’s acting so sympathetically to you about this, certainly more readily than he typically does.

“Yosuke acted strangely after all of it happened, too,” you recall. “He kept looking at me so weirdly. He’s been getting easily distracted and even stopped teasing me so much. He hardly did the entire time we talked after what happened. He seemed more focused and straightforward. Strangest of all was that he let me come here to begin with. He was going to hold onto me longer, but when I started begging to see you all again, he let me. He wouldn’t have before. I know he wouldn’t have.”

Eight takes in these words and thinks on them a moment. You’re not sure he knows what to make of all of this, but he seems displeased with it nonetheless. After a brief period of contemplation, he looks up at you with his light green eyes and says gravely,

“Be careful. I don’t know what to make of his behavior, but that’s not exactly something I’d take lightly.”

You nod, but say nothing more to him about your doctor. Eight almost seems genuinely worried for you, in a way he’s never clearly shown before.

You turn your head to Cyrus and Lav, who both don’t appear to know what to say to you after everything you’ve just laid out. Again, you hang your head and contemplate what else it is you should say to everyone. Admittedly, being open with them has helped you somewhat, but your heart still feels heavy over everything that’s happened since you stepped out into the hall several days ago. Still, your mind wanders back to your conversation with Gale, and you decide perhaps you ought to mention your discovery. You never would tell anyone about Two and Three because you were asked to keep it quiet. But this? Maybe it’s different. You can’t ever explain it to the girls, but perhaps it’s necessary that someone know.

“There’s something else…” You mumble, hesitating slightly. The three Numbers look attentively at you at hearing this statement. Sucking in a deep breath, you continue. “After I spoke with Gale, I realized something. But I need you to promise me you won’t ever say a word about it to anyone else. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone by saying it.”

“Everything that’s being said under this table will stay under this table,” Lav promises with a nod.

“The others will probably want to know about where you’ve been,” Cyrus adds, “but we can leave a lot of details out. Everything else, we can easily keep quiet.”

Your eyes flicker nervously toward Eight, who merely nods as well, agreeing with the other Numbers. With a sigh, you continue.

“I think Gale knows about Five and Six,” you mention. “And not only that, but I think they set them up from the beginning. I want to believe they just messed up their words, but Gale kept going on about how they found people’s reactions to their environment interesting and then went on so much about being close to Five. They even said they knew about most of the other girls before Six came, and so I thought…I don’t know.”

You sigh.

“They said they had no idea that Five’s color was the same when they chose Six’s. But I think that’s not true since Five had seemed to imply a while ago that they’d known, and Gale even mentioned that they spent a lot of time with Five in general. There’s no way they couldn’t have known. I think they set up Five and Six’s relationship just so they could observe it. I have no idea why they might have done so or what they’d have to gain from it, but none of the doctors here are sane. They’re all sick.”

“And you don’t want the girls to know about this because you want them to be happy,” Cyrus mumbles, supposing your intentions. It surprises you very little that he’d conclude this, knowing that he’s had to keep his own secrets from others just to keep them from feeling awful. However, you almost wonder if he knew about this too with the tone he’s using.

“Gale hasn’t really done anything to them, I don’t think,” Lav mulls it over, though her expression seems sullen as she takes in your words. Perhaps she’s trying to be hopeful. “If all they want to do is watch them, then is that really so bad? It’s despicable that they set them up to begin with, but they seem so happy.”

“If a doctor wants something, we can’t safely say it’s for a harmless reason,” Eight retorts negatively. “We have to be wary of everything they do.”

“I know, just…” Lav looks down and trails off. You look at her worriedly, but it’s Cyrus who speaks up before you can.

“It’s okay to want them to be happy,” He assures Lav. “I don’t think Eight’s wrong either, but in the end there’s nothing we can do but keep an eye on things and be there for the two if they ever need help.”

“So what if they were to find out?” Eight raises a brow. “Would they be disappointed?”

“Anyone would be,” you answer him, almost condescendingly, as if the answer were obvious. “But I’m sure they’re strong enough to handle that kind of news. I just don’t want to have to tell them. They’re sweet girls. And I can tell they really do care about one another. I wouldn’t want to break that with bad news. Especially since they made a big deal about how bonding over their similar colors was what led to them dating to begin with.”

You sigh.

“I don’t know how you guys manage to move on so easily. I’ve had a hard time with everything that’s been happening.”

“Well, it’s all sort of happening at once, Ten,” Lav points out with a frown. “It’s no wonder you’re overwhelmed. “And anyway, not everyone gets used to it with time. Things still hurt us. They still make us feel badly when they’re bad things that happen. You should hold on to your ability to grieve because that means you’re still human. The doctors, acting like we’re not even real people sometimes? They’re the ones who aren’t human.”

This statement makes you stare at Lav with your brows turned upward.

“When did they stop being that way?” You demand of her, despite knowing she doesn’t have the answer. “I don’t know how much of what they tell me is the truth, but lately some of the doctors have talked to me about who they used to be. The way they talked about themselves, it sounded almost like they were normal people once. When did they become this way? Why? I just don’t understand.”

Lav remains motionless with no real answer to give. Even Cyrus doesn’t know what to say about it himself, as he simply lays there looking mindlessly at the floor. However, Eight gives a light disgusted scoff and glares straight at you.

“There’s nothing to understand,” he says. “They’re horrible, sex-obsessed people. Disturbed people. Maybe they had some qualms about coming here, maybe they didn’t. But they let themselves fall into this operation one way or another and started to enjoy it enough to let any ounce of moral judgement just fall through the cracks. They don’t care because it feels good to be here, even when it doesn’t. These people are intelligent, but they squander all their worth, all their potential on their sexual desires because they think it’s fun. And even if that isn’t the case, that’s exactly how it looks.”

“There’s a lot we probably don’t know,” Cyrus finally chimes in with sincerity, though his eyes remain affixed to the floor as he speaks. “I don’t think we’ll ever have the full picture. I don’t understand why we’re here anymore than anyone else, but we can’t do much to stop what’s happening. Now you know precisely why. Our only choices are to live and endure it, or give up entirely.”

“…How do you live with this sort of thing, Cyrus?” You ask him desperately, staring at the young man’s aqua eyes despite his gaze remaining on the floor. “Are you and I the only ones who have really seen people die?”

“I had hoped nobody else would have to,” The young man answers you hesitantly. “But maybe we are. If anyone’s ever seen it happen, I don’t know about it because nobody’s ever opened up about it to me. I only know that they found out about those who did die, or those who simply disappeared. There were even times I didn’t know someone had disappeared until I was told, but I’ve always been the messenger for the most part. I don’t know why it happened to always be me. I don’t like that it did. But that’s how it was. It hurt everyone to hear about the losses either way, but nobody else has ever had to see death up close. Not that I know of or can remember.”

“I don’t think Eight and I really even know a lot about the old group to begin with, so neither of us have had to deal with it so straightforwardly before” Lav adds. “The previous Eight and Nine were already gone by the time he and I showed up. We only knew this group, the previous Ten, and Jade. But even then, we don’t know if they’re dead. I feel more for Jade than I do for the previous Ten because I knew her most. It still hurt to see someone disappear that way even if I didn’t know them well. But, I admit, the possibility of losing someone hit strongly with you because I actually had the time to get to know you.”

She then stammers and blinks quickly as if realizing her statement might hurt Cyrus. “Not to say I don’t feel bad for Jade.”

“I understand,” is the young man’s response, though he seems a little crestfallen now with Jade being brought up more. He doesn’t much say anything else after. Once the conversation lulls slightly, you feel your heart sinking with everything that’s been said. Being able to get everything out helps more than anyone could ever know, but you still worry in the back of your mind what will happen to you and everyone else the longer you stay here. Again, you ask yourself if telling them everything was a good idea. You know they can be quiet, but you don’t know if the doctors’ superior can see you in any way. You tried to be careful as advised. There’s not much else you could have done without holding everything in and letting yourself crumble utterly.

All this talk of death has done you no favors, but you feel it necessary to try confronting it somehow. Gale could do very little to assuage you—if that was even their intent. They’d said so, but you have no idea what to think with how much their games terrorized and hurt you. Eight mentioned they were just trying to get information out of you, and perhaps you were stupid enough to give it to them. Still, you weren’t really thinking straight then, and even now you aren’t sure what to really do about everything. It’s strange to think things are just supposed to go on as normal. Is death just a hiccup here? Everyone in the group has seemed to move emotionally past their previous grievances without entirely forgetting them, and perhaps this is no different. You hope to learn this skill one day without sacrificing your sense of sympathy and kindness. Although, you don’t think people who can be upfront like Eight and Violet are entirely wrong to be so despite how much it can often hurt to deal with these kinds of people. They’re merely misguided and use their strengths in negative ways.

You then grow curious about the other Numbers, but aren’t entirely sure if asking Cyrus about them now is wise. He seems to have spoken about the things he’s dealt with casually, yet the glimpse of him you saw here last time you were in the crafts room only proves to you that he’s struggling like anyone else might be. But perhaps being more open about death can help shake you back to reality and make you stronger. You don’t want to feel afraid and sad all the time. You want to be able to look at death realistically without sacrificing the pain you do feel from losing someone and the part of doing so that makes you human. Even if you hadn’t known Jay personally or even all that long, you still feel horrible for her. You don’t cry just because you’re afraid, though that certainly seems to be a huge part of it. You cry because you don’t like the idea of people having to suffer this way.

Hesitantly, you look at the young man across from you and make your decision.

“Cyrus,” you call, causing him to finally look up at you. “I know you’ve seen a lot, and I’m sorry. But…please tell me how the other Numbers died.”

Cyrus looks at you with slightly wide eyes, and the sudden request makes both Lav and even Eight look at him expectantly.

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to,” you add sympathetically, but remain fixated on Cyrus nonetheless. “I just…”

Your voice trails off, and the boy in front of you looks away for a moment, thinking.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to hear it now,” he admits. “You’re still dealing with Jay’s death. You’re new to this. I actually hope you never have to face that kind of thing again. Once is enough to hurt you for a long time.”

“I’m hoping hearing about it will remind me further how real the threat of death is and make me stronger,” you almost guess as you say this. Does your reasoning make sense? “Maybe hearing it will make me appreciate living a little more. This whole thing will hurt for a while like you said, but maybe I can learn to deal with it and move on. I don’t know. If it hurts to talk about all the other Numbers, then you don’t have to.”

“Even for as much as I am able to hold on, It’s never easy,” Cyrus answers bluntly. “I still care about them. They were my first family here, even if they were a little dysfunctional at times.”

He almost laughs, but doesn’t quite do so. “Like us, even. Being together for so long is bound to bring out the worst in people at times. But…do you really want to hear it?”

“Yes,” you promise him, though you’re not sure it’s true. You really don’t know what you’re doing anymore, but you want to believe hearing it will help you somehow. “You can be brief if you want, but I’d like to know. If it’s too much trouble, then don’t.”

“It might be a first for all of you to hear about it, actually,” Cyrus muses. “I never really talked openly about what happened except to explain it to others, and even then, I hardly detailed everything. When people want to know who’s died or disappeared, I have to say in general what might have happened. I feel often like I owe people at least that much, unless I think it’s important they not know. But I don’t particularly think it’s good to be grim about it. I spare details because I don’t want to scare people more than I already might have to just by telling them who died. I always try to be vague.”

“Don’t be,” you request of him, balling your fists. “I watched an innocent girl get shot and bleed out, I watched her twisted face as she writhed in silent pain. I don’t know what to do with that image in my head other than be afraid and sad. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to mourn her, but I want to keep living. I don’t want to die like that, Cyrus. I don’t want to die at all. So please, tell me. I don’t know if it’ll do anything for me, but I have to try.”

From the corner of your eye as you remain fixated on Cyrus, you can see Lav shift her gaze back at you, her mouth slightly open as if she wants to speak. She remains silent, however. Perhaps she has no idea what to say. Even Eight seems to have pulled back on his commentary, lying contemplatively in wait to hear everything and assess it.

Cyrus stares at you for a while with hesitation, deciding whether or not to do as you asked of him. You refuse to shake your fixated gaze, remaining silent in patience as you await his decision. After a long time without anything being said, Cyrus eventually closes his eyes and lowers his eyebrows just slightly, exhaling heavily through his nose.

“I’ll talk about who I can, but I don’t know what happened to a few of the Numbers so I won’t really discuss them” Cyrus tells you. “Is that going to be okay?”

You nod.

“The first to disappear was a girl who got pregnant,” Cyrus begins to explain. “Her Number was Two, but we called her Sienna. I told you about her once before, briefly. It was the first time I saw someone actually deal with a pregnancy, and she was the only one to come back from it. But when she did, she remembered nothing about us or her time here or anything at all. It was like she was just completely reset, but she wasn’t the same person either. She used to be fairly hardheaded and spoke her mind, but she seemed to be more distant and far quieter after the fact. I didn’t consider back then that they’d ever erase memories of this place as well as of our previous lives, but it appeared that they did. Sienna seemed fine for a while, but one day she just suddenly stopped showing up. I don’t know if she died or not.

“The person who I said was implicitly dead was Four. Three, who we called Jet, disappeared after Sienna did for reasons I don’t know, and he was someone Four really cared about. Four had been close friends with Sienna too, so after losing the both of them, he just snapped. He was afraid of death. He was angry about losing people. He’d always been so level-headed and relaxed, but something just changed in him. He started destroying things around the rooms in anger. I had heard all the noise and went to see what was happening. I even tried to stop him. But he wouldn’t. He was eventually dragged away. It was so long ago I don’t quite remember by who, but I know it was a doctor. Not his, though.

“The first death I saw wasn’t even grotesque or violent. It was a girl in our group who was fairly level-headed and had a casual attitude about things. She was Number Five, and we called her Penny. She wasn’t stupid about what happened here, and she seemed to figure out right away that she had to deal with it or else sink like the others. She didn’t expect to die so suddenly. I have no idea why or how she really died myself. She was resting in the rec room after a visit. We even talked a bit, but she suddenly got tired and just stopped responding. She fell asleep and just never woke up. I didn’t know what to do about it, but I was taken away, and I’m assuming workers came to pick her up. I didn’t know what to think of it then. It was the first time I actually saw a death. Even as peaceful as it was, I…”

Cyrus then shuts his eyes, and Lav reaches out a hand to him sympathetically.

“Are you okay?” She asks him with a low voice. Cyrus hesitates a moment, but nods before re-opening his eyes. He watches you for a reaction, but you’re not sure what to think about this. You’re admittedly horrified to hear about these things, but also start to feel guilty watching Cyrus almost squirm having to recount these experiences. Was it wrong of you to make him think about it all again so suddenly?

Despite this setback, the young man tries his best to continue. He doesn’t seem to move away from Lav’s hand, so it merely stays upon him as he speaks. Perhaps he finds comfort in touch as you do, even a little.

“The second death was fairly bloody,” he continues, his eyes lowering now. “It happened here, with the previous Six, who we called Amber. She was a bit rough around the edges when she got upset, and could even be a bit snobby at times, but she was otherwise a sweet girl and was capable of kindness even if she didn’t want to admit it openly. She started to lose herself after everyone started disappearing. She held on for so long, but eventually it was too much. I was stupid enough not to see the signs then. Maybe I could have stopped it. Why the people here don’t stop us from doing this I won’t know. We’re expendable to them, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. But when I came in here, Amber was already dead, and there were scissors by her hand. Her arms, the floor, her gown…all of it was covered in blood. It made me so sick, so afraid. Like you, Ten.”

Cyrus looks back up at you, his brows turned upward.

“I’d never seen it before,” he tells you. “Watching a girl just never wake up wasn’t any better, but this was the first time I had to face the reality of death of the mind and its effect on people in such a blatant way. I tried so hard to find peace after what I saw. Nobody ever knew just how she died, only that she had. So, I was the only one who had to shoulder the burden of seeing it.”

You widen your eyes, but aren’t able to bring yourself to say anything. Your hands begin to tremble. Could Jade have ended up this way? Could you? Could anyone you know?

“I never wanted to bring Amber up at all to anyone because it's not exactly a pretty picture. Jade wasn’t the only one to feel badly enough to let herself slip away,” Cyrus sighs heavily. “But she was the only one to survive it as long as she had. She struggled, but she never completely lost herself like Amber. After her, I paid so much more attention to people. Tried adamantly to keep them in check. But the thing about Amber was that she'd been even better at hiding her suffering than Jade—nothing about her drastically changed. Everything seemed to silently creep up at once. After she did die, after I started to pay more attention to that kind of thing, what was happening to Jade then became that much more obvious. I didn’t want her to fall that way. Nor anyone. Our group had already lost so many. Jade slipped hard even with my and everyone else's attempts to help her. I don't know if she'd have gone the same route as Amber, or if my help did anything to keep her afloat just barely enough. She left far before I could know for certain.

“I was able to help the Numbers who replaced the old ones come to terms with this kind of thing. And the remaining numbers from my first group were by that point stable enough not to let all the losses and disappearances ruin their minds because they started trying to find something to cling to knowing how important it was immediately after losing the first few Numbers. Olive was always a tough girl who could take quite a lot despite looking gentle. And Eight was only okay so long as Nine was since she really liked her. But that didn’t exactly last.”

He pauses for a moment, grimacing as he recalls his next memory.

“Nine’s death was the last I witnessed,” he moves on, evidently not wanting to linger on the memories for too long. For as composed as he’s always been, he seems to be struggling now. He looks the same way he had the day you were in the crafts room together. Even the same way he had with Violet the other day. “Another girl, equally as sweet as all the others. She was actually a lot like Blue with how she spoke and acted. The two were even friends for a while. Nine knew how to smile in the face of awfulness, but she was a little more reserved than Blue. She died of a drug overdose, but I don’t know what kind. I remember watching her start to choke while trying to rest, to a point that her face turned blue. She started convulsing a lot, having a seizure. Her face was twisted up, suffering and awful. I didn’t know how to help her, so I tried to get a doctor. By the time Mom came out, Nine was already dead. I remember things moved quickly after that. I was taken away again while someone came to clean up the mess.”

“Did they send someone to talk to you like they did with Ten?” Eight asks him straightforwardly. You wonder if it’s appropriate to suddenly ask questions like this when Cyrus is struggling to recount everything, but you know Eight’s not doing it because he doesn’t care. He simply wants to understand. Perhaps even like you.

“I talked to Gale a few times,” Cyrus admits. “But not in the same way as Ten. They didn’t do anything weird, merely asked me to be open about everything. Asked a lot of questions. I’ve never had them or anyone else tell me never to think about what I saw.”

“I don’t understand why that is,” You frown, finally speaking after so long of listening to Cyrus’ awful memories. Hearing it all hasn’t assuaged anything but your curiosity, but you now understand the young man’s motivations far more now than you had before. Why he’s so adamant on keeping everyone together, why he finds it important to find a way to cope with things. You’d thought it had been primarily because of Jade, though you’re sure losing her made that need stronger in him. You’d been so naïve about it all. When you first met Cyrus, you never would have guessed he’d suffered this much.

“Even when I was with Gale, I asked myself about it,” you continue on, shaking your thoughts away for a moment. “They were so quick to make you forget about the previous Ten, and everyone’s been adamant that I forget about Jay. But they drugged you and didn’t with me. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t do that for me.”

You close your eyes and hang your head.

“I don’t want to remember this. But they won’t let me forget it despite them clearly wanting me to. I can’t understand it.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, but it’s Lav who finally speaks up.

“Do…you guys need a hug?” She asks. You shake your head at her.

“This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“I wasn’t joking. I’m being sincere,” Lav assures you. “You guys have dealt with way more than I expected. I…I’m really sorry.”

“I’m just so tired,” you admit. “I’ve never dealt with this before. I knew for a long while that there was a risk of death here, but maybe I never thought too hard about it because I never had to face it. Maybe I quietly thought and hoped I’d never have to. Plus, everything’s just been happening all at once lately, and I’ve had so few chances to accept it. I’m honestly starting to miss the days when I didn’t know anything at all. I’m starting to envy people like Blue and the twins who can smile even knowing that all this is a reality. I guess being as stupid as I was then, it was better than knowing what I do now.”

“I’ve been there before,” Cyrus sympathizes with you. “But you’re not stupid. We’re not prepared for this kind of thing, and then when it happens, it hurts. It’s horrifying. It makes us remember how mortal we are.”

“That’s just it. I don’t want to die,” Your voice shakes. Again, you feel your chest welling up and your eyes start to water. “I hate it here, but I don’t want to die. I’m so fucking afraid of dying. But…I also just don’t want to leave any of you behind. And I don’t want any of you to lose me. If I do something stupid, they might erase me from your memory too, and I don’t want to be forgotten.”

You try to wipe your tears away.

“I don’t know why I’m even crying,” you blubber. “I’m not the one who should. I’m just crying over one girl, and you’re the one who’s had to watch so many more die.”

You’re unable to keep yourself composed and start to bawl. Embarrassed to be seen this way in front of everyone at once, you bury your head in your arms on the floor, letting your shallow, quick breaths fill the space between them with condensation.

“It’s okay to cry,” Lav tries to be assuring. You feel her hand gently touch your back, bringing a warmth to your skin from behind your gown. “It’s important that you do. As many times as you need to.”

“And it’s okay to feel strongly about something even if others have dealt with more or worse things,” Cyrus adds. “Don’t feel guilty about how you feel. Our experiences and the circumstances they happened under are entirely different. Comparing the two doesn’t do anything.”

To your surprise, you feel him grab your hand and hold it tightly. This causes your head to pick up, and you look at Cyrus with wide, wet eyes.

“Ten, I’m sorry you had to deal with this,” he tells you. “It’s not easy. It hurts me to think about my own experiences again, but I’ve had so much time to come to terms with it. It hurts far more to see someone else go through the same motions. You haven’t lived through this before, and it’s okay to feel the way you do now. We’re here for you. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m proud of both of you,” Lav lightly smiles, looking over at Cyrus now who almost seems confused by this statement. “I’m glad you could be honest about what you went through and how it made you feel. You know how important that is.”

“I…guess I never was open about it before,” Cyrus looks down, realizing this. “At least, not that open.”

“So why now?” Eight raises a brow. He seems unmoved by the emotional display, but isn’t taking a condescending tone as usual. Rather, he sounds genuinely curious. “And why us?”

“Circumstance, I suppose,” Cyrus answers, squeezing your hand slightly. “But in part because I know you and Lav are stubborn enough to handle it. You’re grounded in a way only a few people I’ve known have been before. And with Ten, maybe she did need to know.”

He turns to you then.

“You’re not alone, okay?”

You smile slightly through your tears, but say nothing more and simply nod.

“This is why you snapped at me, huh?” Eight mulls it over, almost scoffing. “The other day?”

“Yes,” Responds Cyrus simply, eyeing Eight’s face. “You’re smart, Eight. But you don’t know what it’s like to deal with this. Not yet. I don’t doubt you can compose yourself easily. You’re stubborn, and in some instances that’s a good trait to have. But you just don’t know. You’ve been getting to know us more and more with time. Think about how losing any one of us would really make you feel.”

“I’d likely have my own regrets,” Eight admits, but he doesn’t shake his focus on Cyrus. “I didn’t know then why I upset you. I know now. I’m sorry.”

Cyrus laughs weakly, though his voice still sounds somewhat sullen. “Thank you.”

“So what’s going to happen now…?” You ask everyone, your tears finally starting to slow. “Are things just supposed to go back to normal?”

“Pretty much,” Lav sighs. “Other than the stuff that’s happening between us Numbers, but that’s another matter entirely. You definitely can’t change how you feel about everything that’s gone on, but…obviously they want this to be over. So, it’ll be over. We just keep doing what we have been. And if we need to talk about it again, the tables are always here. We can even have our own little club, all four of us.”

She chuckles slightly and pats your back.

“Come on, Ten. All of you. My legs are getting restless with me just laying here.”

Wiping away the residue of your tears, you nod and give a light smile. With everything now said and done, the four of you get out from under the table and sit down before it. Eight goes back to his work, as if nothing had even happened. However, Lav scoots in closer to you and gives you a tight hug, making you gasp slightly.

“Everything will be fine, alright?” She tries to assure you. Finding yourself happy with this gesture of kindness, you return Lav’s hug and bury your head in her shoulder. The embrace lasts a while, but Lav notices Cyrus sitting across from you and waves him over.

“You too, okay?” She laughs. “I asked if you guys needed a hug and you never said anything. I think you do. So, come here.”

Cyrus pauses a moment and blinks at you two, but eventually gives a light chortle despite his earlier hesitance and solemnness.

“Alright, alright.” He moves himself over to where you and Lav are and lets the young woman add him to her embrace. Being surrounded by their warmth leaves you almost at peace after everything that you’ve endured.

“T-thank you,” you almost tear up again, but ultimately close your eyes for a moment. “I needed this. Even for just a little bit.”

“Anytime,” Cyrus answers you with a gentle voice. “Thank you for talking to us. I’d have hated for you to keep everything in. The stuff with Mom and all that.”

You’re sure he’s said this to hide what was discussed under the table under the watchful eye of any possible cameras, but you wonder how effective your method really is. Even if there are cameras watching you, the person, or people behind them would be suspicious about seeing you all hide under a table for so long a time. You’d figured this much, but did it anyway. You wonder if you did the right thing.

After a while, Lav and Cyrus pull away from you. Lav looks on at Eight, who’s been completely avoiding looking at this display of affection and has focused himself again on his scribbling.

“You want a hug too, Eight?” Lav teases.

“Absolutely not,” Eight answers sharply without even looking up. “I don’t want people touching me like that. I’ll show my appreciation from a distance.”

“You sure?” Cyrus adds to the teasing, smirking slightly. Eight glances up at him and narrows his eyes. With a heavy exhale, he sticks out his hand and awaits Cyrus to take it.

“A handshake?” Lav lowers a brow. “Are you serious?”

Eight remains firm. “I don’t know what else you want from me, but I’m not doing the whole hugging thing.”

Lav and Cyrus both give amused laughs, with Lav putting a hand on her forehead.

“Oh my god, you really are a dork,” She jests, almost snorting as she laughs. “Fine, shake his hand, Cyrus.”

Both Numbers end up cackling as Cyrus does exactly that. The grey young man seems unamused by this teasing and immediately retracts his hand the moment Cyrus’ leaves it.

“So much for being understanding,” he mutters while eyeing the book by his paper for reference. “I try to be nice and this is what I get?”

“You know we care about you,” Lav assures him. “It’s because of that we treat you like a person. Jokes and all. Don’t knock it.”

Eight blushes slightly at this remark, but says nothing otherwise and continues to work.

For the rest of the day, the four of you remain in the crafts room, chatting casually as if none of the previous conversation had happened. In the back of your mind, you still worry about Cyrus knowing that he’s still hurting from everything he’s gone through and witnessed. You had no idea he had dealt with so much. Rather, you had always thought of it at a surface level and didn’t dwell on it beyond what you were told. There were things he never bothered to tell you in detail perhaps to keep you from being sad, though maybe that was unavoidable in the end.

It’s strange to know about the other Numbers a little more now. You still have no idea who they really were as people, but you’d rather not talk to Cyrus further about them now. Hearing how they died and that they disappeared is bad enough. You had understood with Jay and with the previous Ten that there was so much at stake, but hearing the grim details about what happened to everyone else only makes that understanding stronger.

Cyrus had said once that he didn’t want to die needlessly. He felt he had to stay here to keep the doctors here and to avoid others from being dragged into a place like this. Him saying this unsettled you deeply before, but now you think the perspective is completely understandable. You’d never want anyone else to feel this way either. To suffer this way. To die here.

Not too much time seems to go by before you’re eventually called back to your rooms for the day. This almost surprises you since it didn’t feel like you hung around with everyone nearly long enough for it to have been a whole day, but then you suppose you’d slept long enough to have missed a lot of time. After all, your doctor apparently hadn’t even planned to let you go today and let you sleep as long as you had to. It still bothers you to think why he might have let you go at all, but you don’t want to question it any more now. You just want to accept it for once, happy to have had a chance to get out your grievances, even if you might end up going right back to feeling bad later. Knowing about the other Numbers has scared you, but you feel better knowing that Cyrus is someone who can understand what you’re going through. Lav and Eight might not wholly get it themselves, but they’re still able to help in ways you didn’t think they ever could. For as stubborn and dry as Eight can be, he’s smart about things you don’t consider. He thinks practically where you wouldn’t. Lav is someone who does something of the same sometimes, but she seems to be someone you can turn to for emotional comfort like Cyrus, even if in a way different than him. She doesn’t shy away from being straightforward, but she knows when to back off and merely be present.

Admittedly, you're somewhat disheartened that Cyrus didn't tell you everything from the beginning when he first said he trusted you. Like with the rest of the group, he told you a lot of things, just not everything. But, after hearing the truth now and seeing how much it's affected Cyrus, you understand his reasons for holding this from you and everyone else. You can't imagine it's an easy thing to deal with. It's hard to blame him for not wanting to be open about it. Hopefully his discussing what he's dealt with somewhat more openly has helped him even a little, even if it hurt him to do so at first.

You almost wish today wouldn’t end with how much you appreciated returning to the Numbers again. But the moment you hear the intercom go off in a way you haven’t in a while, you’re reminded just where you are and what you’re dealing with. It disheartens you greatly, it invades your thoughts and snaps you back to reality as if it were some hypnotist waking you from a spell or pleasant dream.

Cyrus stays behind since his doctor has to do the same in order to let everyone else out. Lav and Eight are the first to go, and you follow. You don’t want to have to say your goodbyes, but you do, knowing you can’t really afford to stay put. Once you go out into the hall to meet your doctor, you again feel an unease at being where you were when you witnessed what you did. However, you try to keep yourself together and press forward. Yosuke again seems distant when you meet with him. He doesn’t even necessarily greet you, but he does notice you promptly when you arrive at the gate.

In silence, he leads you through the hall, but you glance over at the records room door and see Mom standing inside with her arms crossed, her green eyes trailing both you and Yosuke as the both of you pass by. She doesn’t quite look angry, but rather observant. Focused, even. Even if she isn’t outwardly mad, her presence and her gaze both shake you slightly. You hope she isn’t going to hound you since you know her name. It wasn’t your fault that you found out, and it’s not as though you’d take the advice never to use it around her lightly after how you’ve seen her behave when angry. For as stubborn as you can be with other doctors, you’re afraid of her as much as you are people like Lilah or Milos.

You shake these thoughts away and slowly continue to follow Yosuke down the hall, though you can’t help but break the silence between you when it becomes uncomfortable. Despite still being mad at him for what he did to you, his behavior is strange enough for you to want to understand the reason behind it.

“Yosuke…?” You hesitantly call out. This makes him turn his head just slightly as he keeps walking, giving off a light “hm?” in response.

“What did you and Mom talk about back there that made you so mad?” You question, remembering his unusual outburst in the office. Your doctor suddenly stops walking, almost making you bump into him. Yosuke merely turns to you and frowns slightly.

“Nothing important,” he tells you. “I’m assuming you’re curious because you heard me yelling?”

You nod lightly, but avoid your doctor’s olive gaze.

“Your mother tried to move in on me,” is the man’s final answer. “I was only trying to have a quick discussion and she became desperate. But I don’t exactly want anything to do with her. Even if I do owe her, I’m not the least bit interested in succumbing to her now. I draw the line with you, and with myself. She pissed me off, that’s all.”

“Oh…” you almost sound disappointed to hear this answer, but it mostly just confuses you. You’re not the slightest bit certain if it’s the truth, but it surprises you very little that Mom would try to do something like that. She’s always been clingy and strange in general. Hearing about her from Cyrus and Eight only adds to what your own personal experience has told you about the woman.

Suddenly, you’re taken out of your thoughts as Yosuke curls his fingers under your chin and rubs your lips gently with his thumb.

“I don’t want her, Ten. I want you,” he assures you, his voice soft. “Maybe she’s forgotten that. She sometimes does.”

Nothing else is said between you two, though Yosuke notices you avoiding looking into his eyes. He gives a light half-laugh, exhaling his breath through his nostrils before dropping your chin. The both of you continue on to your room, where Yosuke unlocks the door for you and lets you go in. When your eyes adjust to the brightness, you catch sight of something on your desk. You instantly freeze when you realize what it is.

On your desk is a journal, one similar in shape, size, and color to the one in Six’s room. When you finally decide to step closer to get a better look at it, you notice some kind of note on square paper stuck to the surface of the thing. With shaking hands and wide eyes, you pick the journal up and read the note, which looks messily handwritten in ink.

Thought you might like one of your own.

-G.

Your heart skips a beat as you read this and begins to pump faster, your hands continuing to tremble as you hold the notebook in them. From behind you, Yosuke’s hand perches itself on your shoulder. You hadn’t even realized he followed you in, but you can’t much bring yourself to concentrate on his presence now with what you’re currently occupied with.

You don’t react at first, but your head begins to grow dizzy as your heart continues to race faster and faster. For a moment, your eyes squeeze shut as you try to process this sudden “gift”. Yosuke continues to say nothing behind you, but all at once, fury and sadness creep up over you. Without saying a word, you start to angrily tear up again, letting out a frustrated groan as you slam the journal onto the desk and start to rip into it. The note drops onto the floor as you work furiously on the thing, and once you have the cover open, you begin to rip blank pages out of the journal in anger. You care very little about making a mess now, throwing paper wherever you can just to get rid of it.

After a while of massacring the journal’s pages, you finally stop and instead bring your hands to your face and sob violently into them. You’d just wanted to get over all of this. After finally feeling good just for a little while, you immediately have returned to your state of misery. You don’t even quite know why you’re reacting this way, but you can’t think about it right now with how angry you are.

Yosuke, despite having said nothing this whole time, turns you slowly around and looks intently at you through his square frames. You can’t discern what he’s feeling or thinking, and right now, you can’t bring yourself to care. Eager to lean on anything at all, even someone like him, you move in and clutch his shirt. Your head bows as you sob against your doctor, but he doesn’t bother to tease you or laugh as he may have before. He instead wraps his arms around you and lets you cry. You just don’t know what to think right now. You don’t even know why you’re relying on him in this moment despite knowing he deserves nothing from you. But now, you’re here in his arms, sobbing relentlessly.

You’re not sure how long you let Yosuke hold you for, but eventually you feel yourself growing exhausted as you had the last time you broke down in your room. Shuffling your feet through all the torn paper on the floor, you let yourself be guided to your bed by your doctor. Yosuke helps you up onto the mattress, and for a moment you half expect him to start playing with you. However, he doesn’t.

Instead, your doctor lays you down and pulls your comforter over your body. Without a word, he lets you continue to weakly tremble and sob, though by now your face and sinuses are so swollen that it’s becoming hard to let any more tears fall. While everything slowly grinds to a halt and your feelings dull, Yosuke pets you, waiting until you're calm again. When you’ve finally given up and go silent, he leans in to kiss your head and says nothing more before leaving you to rest.

Once you’ve finally been left alone and can more properly think, your eyes wearily wander toward all the paper on the floor. You ask yourself whether Gale had given this journal to you as another warning or reminder, as a threat, or as a genuine gift. Was this just another test? Were they actually trying to help you? Right now, you don’t really care. You don’t even want to have to look at the mess you’ve made any longer.

Angrily, you turn your body over and instead face the wall.

Chapter 46: Visit Twenty Two - Weak

You didn’t much sleep that night.

Even after crying excessively and becoming so exhausted, your mind refused to let you sleep. You remember thinking of a million things at once. Your main question at that moment was only “why?”. Even now as you start to groggily come to, the question repeats itself in your mind, among others. Why did Gale do that to you? What do they have to gain? Are they doing it on purpose, or are they being told to? Did Yosuke plan this? Did he expect you to react this way? Why did you?

When you become slightly more aware, you realize your body is somewhat sluggish. Not only from being, you presume, drugged, but equally from how little you really slept. You have no clue when your body finally shut down, but you’re sure it took a long while to. You don’t really bother to open your eyes right now. In fact, black is all you see for a while. The other bunch of your senses are what you rely on to discern where you are. For certain, this place is not your bedroom. It’s unclear what room you’re in right now, but you know you’re right in the middle of a visit at this point.

Business as usual…

It’s vexing that you’re expected to return to your regular visits. Perhaps the routine is something that is meant to shake you out of what you’ve been feeling. But, if it didn’t at all work when Yosuke and Gale did it, then surely it won’t work now. You feel better having talked to your friends, yet simultaneously worse knowing you have to live with what you do while pretending it never happened. How on earth do they expect you to focus on a regular visit now? A part of you would like to say you wish Yosuke had let you rest a while before making you return to visitations, but it’s already been a few days. You’re not sure how many, but you at least know it’s been a while. Certainly, it takes more time to get over something this awful. Even Gale had seemed to think you needed more time, but evidently the people here don’t care to give you that time. You suppose you have little choice in the matter.

As your mind wanders back to your surroundings and your body and mind fully awaken, it dawns on you that there’s a coldness on your skin, running along the side of your body. Paying closer attention to this frigidity leaves you to realize you’re naked again. Not only that, but your hands have been cuffed behind your back. When you try to shuffle them around, you hear metal clinking. From this, you gather that the thing you’re on top of is absolutely not a bed. It feels smooth and metallic. When you shuffle around on the thing, it sways just slightly and scrapes its legs against the hard floor, but it’s otherwise fairly large enough for you to wriggle around on, and stable enough to support your weight.

You try to open your eyes then, but see only blackness. No, they’ve been open this whole time. There’s something over your eyes that has been since you woke up. A blindfold? But why?

It’s then that you also notice your mouth has been gagged with some kind of knotted cloth. The fabric isn’t too uncomfortable all things considered, but the knot is quite large in your mouth and is layered well enough to be hard to shape or bite down on. With how condensed the fabric is, the knot almost feels solid.

You feel unease in your chest as you realize you’ve been rendered helpless. Even your ankles have been bound by something, but you’re unsure what. The only thing you can gather from feeling alone is that they’ve been wrapped tight in something that’s durable enough to hold your legs in place, but smooth to the touch.

Your heart begins to beat slightly faster as you’re unsure what to expect from here. In your blinded discomfort, you try to raise your body up to sit. Unexpectedly, you feel a coarse, warm hand from in front of you firmly press against your chest and push you back down on the table. Your cuffs are the first thing to hit the metal surface as your body is forced to lay on its back, so you immediately hear more of the clinking noises from before. You give a muffled grunt as the back of your head hits the table, but it’s luckily not a painful sensation, merely one that takes you aback as you hadn’t expected it.

“I’d stay still if I were you, honey,” a sly voice calls out from above you. Unable to move and deprived of a sense, you remain in a silent panic. This is furthered by the sensation of a smooth metallic blade being run flatly along the skin of your stomach. You gasp muffledly as you feel this, your body now trembling in response to it.

“Miss me?” Micah’s low, teasing voice reverberates in your left ear unexpectedly, causing you to jump just slightly. As he asks this, the wily man finishes running his blade along your skin and lets the tip of it just barely scratch above your navel as he lifts it away. The sensation isn’t painful, merely discomforting. He’s not trying to hurt you, you don’t think. Or at least, you hope not. Yosuke wouldn’t let him, right?

Micah gives a deep chuckle.

“Trying to ask yourself if I’ll hurt you right?” He questions with cheekiness, almost as if reading your mind. “Well, let me tell you how this is gonna work.”

Micah then slides his blade flatly under your chin and lifts your head back with it. You whimper as the cold metal thing slides against your neck as it’s positioned. The sly doctor leans in closer to you, enough to where you can feel his hot breath hitting your cheeks.

“I’m going to use you,” Micah explains with a casual voice. “And you’re going to be a good girl and take whatever I give you. No complaints. I don’t want to hear it. If you can be a good little girl, I’ll give you a reward. Got it? You do that for me, and you won’t have any-thing to worry about, because I won’t hurt you.”

He exhales quickly as if to laugh.

“But, if you don’t do what I want, I’ll have to be a little more forceful,” he warns, lightly pressing the blade into the skin on your neck. “However I see fit.”

Even if Yosuke intends to make sure you’re not severely hurt, you’re certain Micah would still hurt you somehow. With how shaken up you are from everything that’s been happening, you let yourself believe he’d hurt you badly. In fact, even now the blade feels like it’s going too deeply into your skin. As it continues to linger firmly against your flesh, you start whimper and wince. This causes Micah to scoff.

“It’s not even going in that deep,” he chides you, pressing the flat portion of the blade more firmly against your chin to pull your head back. As you continue to breathe heavily through your nose, you feel the blade eventually retract entirely from your neck. This relief is only temporary, however, as Micah begins to run the tip firmly along your cheek now. It scrapes audibly against the skin, but you again assume that he’s cutting into your flesh deeply. You have no clue if he is, no way of really knowing, but your body responds in a panic nonetheless. Once more, you whimper and tremble, and your wrists attempt to separate from their cuffs instinctively. You shift slightly on the table, but are unable to get away from Micah’s knife. Seeing your reaction, however, makes him laugh loudly in amusement, his snarky voice echoing throughout the room as he speaks.

“What’s the matter, honey?” He teases you, lifting the knife off your skin with a light, audible flick that makes you whimper yet again from behind your gag. “You scared?”

He then laughs again.

“Come the fuck on, now. All I did was leave a little red trail on that delicate skin of yours. Are you seriously that much of a fucking child?”

You try to break from your bonds in response, but are unable to move too much. This apparently displeases Micah, as gives a light growl before he promptly slaps your cheek hard, causing your head to move the opposite way and the skin on your cheek to sting.

“Now that was supposed to hurt,” he tells you firmly. “Don’t go and start struggling now. I just got done telling you to be good.”

Despite this aggressive gesture, you hear the man make a light tsk, tsk noise when your breathing begins to quicken its pace in your rising fear.

“Such a scared little thing,” Micah teases you babyishly. You then feel his knife run coldly up your thigh. You tremble more as you feel it, still interpreting the sensation as painful even if you were told otherwise. Micah’s voice then returns to normal.

“You’re really feeling everything as painful, huh?” He chuckles again. “Maybe it’s because you expect to be hurt, expect the worst in things. You’re just a pretty little pessimist who gets off on her own misery, aren’t you?”

The blade again retracts from your skin before being placed once more on your neck. Micah runs the thing up and down the side of your neck, reaching from your shoulder to your earlobe as he teases your skin with the sharp object. When you again react fearfully, Micah gives a loud laugh.

“That’s probably completely true, in fact,” he continues to make fun of you, his voice piercing your ear as the insults keep coming. “You like being tied up like this. You like being used. If I recall, you seem to get the most excited when you can’t do anything to stop us from toying with you.”

He leans in and breathes his laughing breath into your ear. You continue to shudder the more you’re forced to feel from him. You don’t want this right now. It’s not at all shocking that Micah would show up after you’d seen your scar almost healed the other day. Still, it disappoints you to know it’s him. You’re not ready for him after what’s happened. A visit from anyone else might have been more tolerable. But evidently, you’re expected to move on quickly. You wonder how Violet manages to deal with him so much, even if she sometimes talks back to the man. She seems to always have something on her mind, yet has said she’s managed to obey him for the most part just to get things over with.

“A few little birdies have told me you like being pounded into against your will,” Micah continues to tease you. “You just don’t want to admit it, do you? But you react so strongly when you’re rendered helpless, restricted by rope or leather or cuffs or anything else at all. It doesn’t matter what, does it? As long as you get played with like the little fuck toy you are.”

Micah chuckles as he starts to run the tip of the knife along the curvature of your outer ear, making your light trembles turn to full shivers. You gasp and exhale muffledly again into the cloth as you’re touched here, but your heart remains in its panicked rhythm. You try to turn away, but Micah presses the blade against your cheek again, harder this time so that you’ll stay still to avoid being cut by moving.

“There’s something you’re scared of, isn’t there?” He observes, practically grinning with his voice as he says this. “Something that isn’t just me. You react strongly to every little nick, every little touch of my blade because you’re always afraid of something. What, I don’t know. I don’t much care. But let me tell you a fun little fact.”

He then grabs your neck in one of his hands and presses more firmly against your cheek with his knife. The feeling of having any kind of grip around your neck again sends you into another panic, and you begin to whimper and cry muffledly into the cloth. While your head is forced to stay still, your body shifts and wriggles around fruitlessly in your bonds.

“Fear reminds us that we’re alive,” Micah says, using a far colder tone than before. His warm breath continues to hit your face as he, you assume, hovers atop you and leans in close enough for his upper body to almost touch yours. “When you’re afraid, your blood is pumping, and your heart is racing. You feel it now, don’t you? Your body is responding exactly that way to me. That’s a part of being alive. You should be grateful for that sensation. It means you still have something to look forward to.”

He chuckles, regaining his sly tone again.

“Now, you can either give into that fear and crumble like a weak little nothing, or you can control it. Do you want to be a broken little doll?”

You make a muffled “no” noise as you continue to tremble. By now, you’ve become still again, but your body remains in its trembling state as Micah’s hand keeps itself firmly on your neck. You’re able to accept that he isn’t choking you, but still aren’t whatsoever okay with the sensation. You only wish Micah would allow you to see again. For as little as you’d like to have to be faced with him, you’d rather do so than remain in the dark now.

Your restrained verbal response amuses the man atop you, and he lets out a deep laugh before changing his attitude and letting his voice get gruff again.

“Then stop letting everyone baby you so much, you absolute fucking child,” he insults you, tightening his grip on your neck just slightly as he curls his fingers around it. “Accept your fear and grow up.”

In moments, Micah releases his grip and retracts the knife from your flesh.

“Get on your stomach,” he commands. “Just don’t fall off the table. You’ll hurt yourself if you do. I’d be pretty upset if you went and deprived me of my time with you by being that phenomenally stupid.”

Able to breathe more easily now without the discomforting sensations, you do as told and try to turn your body around. You move a bit slowly, but carefully enough to not teeter over the edge as you turn. With both your arms and legs bound, you’d be unable to catch yourself if you fell. After a little while, you’ve fully shifted yourself onto your stomach as ordered.

“Good,” Micah’s low voice compliments your obedience. “Now wait there.”

You hear the sound of something clasping shut, followed by the sound of solid footsteps against the hard floor as Micah walks elsewhere. Once he’s reached what you presume to be a cabinet, he grabs something metallic off of the counter in front of it which jingles just slightly as it moves about in his hand. Again, you hear the footsteps making their way back toward you, this time ending right behind you at the end of the table by your feet.

“I’ll be teasing that body of yours now,” Micah tells you firmly. “This will feel good and somewhat painful all at once. How painful it is depends on you. It’s perfect for a fucked little thing like yourself, really.”

At once, you feel a prickly sensation rolling along your lower back, and immediately you jerk around slightly in response to the unusual touch. Promptly, you feel whatever’s touching you prick your flesh just enough for it to hurt. It almost feels like a needle with how sharp it is, and you whimper at the sudden pain it brings you. Micah makes a loud “tch” noise at this and retracts whatever device he’s using from you.

“What the fuck did I just say?” He chides you. “You’re really bad at taking hints, aren’t you? Stupid girl. You squirm around so much and this thing’s going to make you bleed all over. Unless you like that kind of thing, stay still.”

You try to do as told this time, now aware of what to expect. The only issue remaining is discerning where and when to expect it. Promptly, Micah returns whatever metallic device he has in his hands back to your skin, this time running it along your sides, going from where your breasts are all the way down to your waist. Whatever Micah’s using feels like some kind of a wheel as it pricks along your skin. The cold sharp metal provides a strange pleasure to your body that you don’t want to feel, though your mind still interprets it partly as painful after you just got pricked by it. You end up wincing and twitching a few times, but clench your fists to try to keep yourself from flinching and moving around otherwise. You’d prefer not to feel the actual pain. Perceiving it is bad enough. Though, for as uncomfortable as it feels to be pricked along your body like this, a part of it does also send an unusual shiver down your spine. You don’t want to think you like this.

Micah then chuckles and runs the wheel along the other side of your body, using a similar motion. The cold of the metal is starting to lessen as it warms to your body heat the longer your visitor uses it on you. As he continues to run it along your skin, you shiver more and more.

Though your hands are cuffed behind your back, Micah is still able to run the spiked wheel along your lower back, which he does so promptly while watching your legs twitch in response. When he reaches your butt, he presses just a little harder on the wheel as he runs it on your skin. It’s not enough to pierce the skin wholly, but the spikes do feel as though they’re indenting into your flesh. The sensation of firm pricking in such a sensitive place makes you whimper and squeeze your knees together, much to Micah’s amusement.

“That too much?” He teases you, lifting the device from you again before attacking your thighs next. “Or does that feel good?”

You turn your head and lay your cheek on the metal table, breathing heavily into your gag while you’re pricked more and more. After a while of this and of having the time to get accustomed to the sensation, you no longer perceive it as entirely painful. Rather, it stimulates your nerves in a way that almost feels good. Why?

You whimper again as you feel the spiked metal object being rolled up and down your thighs from different sides. You press your legs together more firmly this time as you start to respond to this unusually titillating sensation. After just a while longer, Micah gives a light, cocky laugh and retracts the wheel entirely from you.

“Starting to enjoy that, huh?” He mocks you babyishly. “Guess it’s time to switch gears then. Let’s try something a little more forceful. Just for fun.”

Your heartbeat quickens as you hear this, but you’re not sure what it is to expect. You hear Micah step forward as if to head to a set of cabinets in front of you somewhere, but he playfully runs the wheel along your neck as he passes by. You gasp at the unexpected pricking sensation, and once the wheel’s removed again, you instinctively raise your shoulder up to your neck while your face flushes. You’re not sure what it is about being touched there that makes you react this way.

Eventually, you relax your shoulder again and listen as the sound of something solid sliding off the counter is made. You presume Micah’s picked something else up, and you’re forced to listen as his footsteps come back toward you, slowly this time. The man makes his way somewhere behind you again and scoffs.

“Geez, you should see yourself,” He remarks casually. “Your skin’s pretty red just from a few little pricks.”

You’re a little prick! You want to tell him, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Even if it had, all that you can produce now are muffled noises.

Micah stays silent a moment, likely examining your body, before suddenly and aggressively grabbing your cuffs. He gives a light grunt as he starts to pull you forcefully down the table. Your skin slides and squeaks against the thing as you’re dragged down just enough so that your body is bent over, with your legs forced to hang on the edge. You’re able to touch the hard floor with the soles of your feet, but aren’t able to place them flatly on it.

“That comfortable?” Micah questions you with a light, falsely sweet tone to his voice. As he speaks, you hear a thick, sturdy object get bobbed around in his hands at a slow pace. Hearing it makes you shudder and clench your fists again, and this reaction causes the doctor behind you to chuckle slyly. “You thought a bit of pleasurable pricks was painful, so maybe you’ll find this pain pleasurable. You’re a little weird that way. But who am I to judge? You’ve seen what I like.”

Suddenly, you feel a smooth, flat pane get rubbed gently up and down your left butt cheek. It’s made of what feels like leather, but it’s stiff and solid nonetheless. Not to mention, the surface is a tad cold because of the air. You wince when you feel it, unfamiliar with what it is Micah’s doing but starting to get a fairly good idea of it the more he teases your bottom.

“Now don’t move, sweetheart,” Micah’s sly voice advises you. Something about the way he calls you this only reminds you of Sven. For as much as Sven seemed to dislike Micah, the man acts fairly similar to him, if only to some small degree. “You take what I do like a good girl and you get a reward, remember?”

Even though you’re blindfolded, you still instinctively shut your eyes as you await the stinging sensation you know is coming. You’re not sure when to expect it, but it’s as you start to wonder when Micah will actually strike you that he actually does. The unexpected hard spank from the, you presume, paddle in his hands makes you yelp into your gag. Even Sven had hit you a little lighter.

Micah laughs as your lower body starts to tremble in response to this hit.

“You gonna start crying, little girl?” He chides you while still sounding utterly amused. “I told you not to complain.”

He retracts the paddle again and comes in for another hit, the loud sound of your skin and the leather meeting echoing throughout the room. Again, you yelp and whimper. You don’t want to make noise and upset the man, but you can’t help but react to the feeling of being harshly spanked.

“You really don’t like to listen, do you?” Micah chastises you again. However, he gives a bit of a chuckle. “Fine. I’ll just have to keep this up. This other side’s looking a little lonely anyway.”

He begins to rub the paddle in large circles around your other cheek, teasing you. He gives a bit of a boyish giggle before pulling back and smacking you again, this time on the untouched side of your ass. Despite trying to hold in your noises, you again give a whimper, but also accidentally moan as well.

“Oh, you’re starting to like it, huh?” Micah catches onto your pleasured noise quite quickly, again rubbing your bottom with his paddle while your skin stings from the hit. “No wonder you’re making so many noises. You really like this stuff, don’t you? Little slut.”

Micah spanks you yet again, a little harder this time. You clench your fists and yelp once more, your legs trembling as your bottom continues to feel sore and sting with pain. You try to muffledly beg him to stop, but Micah merely makes a “hm?” noise when he hears you.

“What’s that?” He questions with a light mocking tone to his voice. “You want me to stop hitting you?”

You don’t get the chance to respond before he smacks his paddle across your ass yet again, causing a loud THWACK noise to reverberate in the room.

“That sounds like a complaint,” Micah points out with displeasure. “I told you not to make any. You’re supposed to be a good girl for me. Do you want to piss me off?”

He again spanks you with his toy, making you cry out beggingly from behind your cloth gag.

“Man, your ass is red,” Micah laughs as he observes your marked skin. “You’ve got trails and splotches of red all over. I admit, not a bad look for a girl like you.”

You feel Micah run a finger along your slit next, trailing it slowly. He begins to laugh again, making deep guffaws from his throat.

“God damn, you’re already this wet,” He makes fun of you with an almost eagerness to his voice. “You really liked it, didn’t you?”

Again, he smacks you hard across the ass and makes you cry out. After this, though, he says nothing else. With the temporary reprieve from being spanked, the stinging pain only grows worse. You no longer have the distraction of being hit, and now your bottom starts to feel sore and raw while you lie there breathing in heavily through your nose and trembling. Luckily, Micah seems to stop hitting you entirely.

“Still, you made noise when I said not to.” He sounds displeased as he points this out. “So…”

You hear him throw the paddle onto the floor, then feel him as he grabs you by your cuffs again and shifts your body so that you’re lying, you think, across the width of it rather than longways. Your legs still dangle just slightly, but he positions you in such a way that your head hangs just slightly off the side as well.

You hear him take hold of something and snap it open, then are shaken slightly as you feel the cold blade of his knife again on your cheek. This time, Micah digs it under the gag you have and twists the knife so that the sharp end is facing outward. He begins to cut the cloth around your head, and even though it’s uncomfortable to feel the metal and his coarse hand rub against your cheek as he does this, it also brings you tremendous amounts of relief when you’re finally freed. Promptly after he cuts the cloth, the remnants of your gag fall down and hit the floor with a brief little patter. You end up sucking in a huge breath of air and expelling it quickly, finally able to breathe again and taking advantage of every bit of freedom you have. You remain blindfolded, but are at least happy to have some restriction of your body lifted, even if you’re sure it won’t last long. Despite knowing you shouldn’t, you grit your teeth and bark at Micah.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I let you loose for a little bit and that’s what you choose to say?” Micah takes a displeased tone yet again, scoffing. “Just shut up.”

You feel his knife trail briefly and quickly across your right shoulder in a swift swiping motion, and what follows after is a stinging sensation. Realizing that you’ve been cut, you wince and grunt in pain. The cut doesn’t really seem to feel as deep as what you’d gotten before, but it still hurts immensely. Although it surprises you little that Micah would do this, you weren’t exactly expecting to be cut again after Yosuke seemed displeased that you were the last time. Either he’s allowing it now, or Micah merely doesn’t care. Right now, you can do no more than continue whimpering at the pain. Something about being unable to see your shoulder to assure it’s not as hurt as it could be only makes the pain stronger. You’re forced to focus only on it with your body bound and your blindfold still on.

“It hurts,” you manage to get out, though the words sound restrained when you speak them. Once more, the metal click from before can be heard, and you presume Micah’s started to put his knife away again. Instead, you now hear him unbuckle his belt, and you scowl more as you figure what he’s intending to do. Unease rises in you as you hear the man slowly unzip his pants, the act followed by the sounds of shuffling cloth. Once he’s finished exposing himself, you feel Micah firmly grab your chin and force your head up. He squeezes your jaw and cheeks with his fingers and thumb, forcing your lips to part.

“You don’t want to stop whining? Fine,” Micah says lowly. “Be that way. I’ll just have to put that stupid little mouth of yours to better use.”

Without hesitation, he forces the tip of his warm cock past your lips and shoves the rest of himself down past your tongue. You gasp and whimper as you’re forced to take it, tasting the disgusting, fleshy thing as it pushes more into you. Micah then drops his hand from your chin and instead wraps your hair around it, then pulls your head up to keep it steady.

“Been a while since you got a taste of me, huh?” He chuckles gleefully as he begins to thrust wetly into your mouth with a light grunt. “This is what you get for being noisy.”

You breathe heavily through your nose as Micah begins to go faster into your throat, not bothering to take his time as he forces you to suck him off, using your head as if it were a cocksleeve. Once he’s gotten himself wet enough in your mouth, he starts to pump himself faster into you, using sharp, violent motions that give you little time to breathe adequately. You begin to make gurgling noises as you feel his dick ram in and out of your mouth and against your tongue. Your fists clench as you’re forced to take this, but Micah doesn’t bother to let up. You’re not sure he’s doing this to get himself off, or if he’s trying to embarrass and shame you. Whichever it might be, you can’t focus too hard on it now as you try to keep up with his pace so that you can still breathe. You don’t like having to be facefucked like this again.

Your neck and jaw start to hurt immensely as you’re forced to stay still and let your mouth be used by Micah. He continues to grunt and growl as he takes you, but laughs as he does it when he sees tears start to frustratedly stream down your cheeks. The pain of being held up like this is unbearable, but so is the stress of being used like a toy again.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Micah babyishly teases you between his thrusts. “You crying because you don’t want this?”

His voice then returns to its normal, rough state.

“Well, that’s too bad. Should have thought of that before you decided to talk back like a bad girl. You should know the consequences by now. We went through this before.”

Micah then laughs. “But I guess you can’t really help yourself, can you?”

He continues to buck and thrust against your face and into your mouth, forcing his cock deeper into your throat while he groans and grunts. You whimper into his dick a few times, but otherwise can do no more than make muffled and gurgled cries while trying to breathe through your nose. After a while of enduring this, Micah finally grunts loudly and gasps rapidly.

“Fuck…” He growls lowly. “I’m gonna come right into that throat of yours. You better damn well swallow every bit of my load.”

He shakes your head slightly in his grip of you.

“Got it?”

You whimper in response, unable to give any other indication of a “yes”. Micah continues to pump his cock into your mouth, in and out rapidly while growling,

“Come on…come on…Fuck!”

In an instant, he finally gives a loud, growling cry and presses his cock deep into your throat while he spurts his load down it. You’re forced to gulp down every bit of his warm thick cum, your throat instinctively sucking it down with how deep into it Micah’s cock is. The man continues to give long, breathy moans as he recovers from his orgasm, continuing to spurt out the last of his semen into your throat, feeding you readily. Once he’s fully finished, you feel Micah slide his wet member out of your mouth, the tip brushing against your lips and leaving a residue comprised of saliva and cum.

Once he’s out of you, Micah drops his hand from your hair and again grabs your chin and jaw like before. He forces your head upward again and presses his fingers firmly against your skin.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands you. “Show me that you swallowed it all.”

Still panting and gasping lightly for air, you shakily open your maw and show the man what’s inside. Micah remains silent a moment, likely as he examines you.

“Lift your tongue,” he tells you. Again, you obey in silence and do as told. When your visitor safely assesses you’ve done as he wants, he drops your head entirely and lets it fall back down to hang slightly over the table.

“Good girl.” He sounds genuinely satisfied for once. “You take cock better than you take orders, though. Maybe you like what happens when you don’t listen. But I’ll tell you what—I’m still feeling pretty fucking horny for that mouth of yours. if you do what I tell you to next, you’ll get your reward. If not, I’ll just have to punish you. Now, that can mean a lot of things, but none of those things are gonna be particularly fun for you. Understand?”

You nod, but Micah again grabs your hair and pulls your head up, making you grunt in pain.

“No, no. Say it.”

You grit your teeth again, hesitating a moment but eventually giving in.

“I understand,” you tell him bitterly, your voice shaking.

“Good,” Micah chuckles when he has the reaction he wants and drops your head again, giving you immense relief. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, you feel him reach over to your head and undo the blindfold around your eyes. Promptly, he yanks the loosened cloth away and exposes you to the light of the room. The sudden shift from dark to light practically blinds you as you’re faced with nothing but white, and it takes a moment for you to fully adjust to the lighting. You squint slightly, but once your eyes do adjust, you’re hardly surprised to find that you’re in the dungeon-esque room. Being here again only reminds you of Yosuke, and you’re none too pleased to reminisce the feeling of losing control.

You look up at Micah finally, gazing up at his red hair and dark eyes again after so long of having gone without seeing him. You’d almost forgotten what he even looked like with how focused on other things and people you’ve been. He smirks at you, but says nothing as he leans forward. You shut your eyes in fear of what he might do, but he doesn’t touch your face at all. Instead, you feel him reach for your cuffs and start to unlock them. The vibrations of his picking at them are felt through the skin by your hands and wrists, and in moments the metal things pop open. Finally free, you bring your hands away from your back and place them on the table. It feels much better to move now. You almost want to reach up and hit Micah in anger at his antics, but you know that’ll bring you nothing but trouble. Maybe you’d just like to hit him to take out your frustrations about everything that’s happened. Still, you know your place enough not to act out so blatantly. Instead, you stare at him with a scowl. He doesn’t seem much moved by your expression, merely staring at you with his cocky little grin that makes you want to spit in his face. Something about his cockiness really does remind you of Sven. You wonder why the man dislikes Micah so much.

“What’s with that face?” your visitor laughs deeply in amusement. “You look like you want to deck me.”

“You’re right, I do,” You mutter bitterly. “But you know I won’t.”

“That’s real cute,” is Micah’s only reply as he lowers his thick, pierced eyebrows. “But don’t get too comfortable with that attitude.”

“So what do you want me to do?” You demand of him while moving on, your voice still somewhat low and grumbling. “I know you didn’t just let me loose for nothing.”

“What did I just fucking say?” Micah scolds you. He then regains his smugness and gestures to his cock. “You know what I want and what you’re good for, honey. So be a good girl and give it to me. No questions. And do a good job. I wanna see how much of cock-hungry little whore you are without having to force my way in.”

Supposing you have no choice but to do as asked, you try to push yourself up to move off the table, but Micah raises a hand and snaps at you again. He then points his finger downward.

“Uh-uh. Stay down,” he commands. “All you need are your hands and your mouth. You can still milk my cock from there.”

You scowl at the redheaded doctor, but say nothing and stay where you are. At the very least, you try to reposition yourself across the table so that you can reach the man without much issue. Staring at his wet cock makes you uneasy, but you’re not really about to fight him about it now. You’d rather not get cut again. Or worse.

With a somewhat shaky hand, you grip Micah’s warm dick, the flesh slick and sloppy from both your saliva and his cum. For as little as you’d like to stare at it, you don’t want to have to look up at the man. So, you fixate your gaze on the thing, trying to separate the image of it and the image of Micah in your head to make it easier to deal with. You glide one of your thumbs along the underside of his tip, massaging it lightly before starting to move your lips gently over him. Gently, you tongue at the man’s tip, circling its circumference and his urethra, and tasting leftover cum on your tongue. You hear the man give a light nasally exhale from above you, and you gather that you’re doing just what he wants. You kiss his head a few times before using your tongue more. The salty flavor disgusts you, yet you try to keep going just to get it over with. Whether you do a good or bad job now doesn’t much matter, though. You’re not going to be done here even when you finish with Micah’s cock.

You gently curl your fingers around the fleshy member, close to its base, while continuing to lick around the head. After a while, you start to take the thing in your mouth, shutting your eyes as you do and wincing slightly at the feeling of it gliding along your tongue and on your cheeks. You start to breathe heavily through your nose as you suck Micah’s dick, moaning ever so lightly into it as you attempt to keep him aroused. The thing is hard inside of your mouth, eager to feel your tongue wrapped around it. Micah lets out a few light groans as he feels you working him, and in turn, he reaches a hand over and grips your scalp firmly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, pressing his fingers into your flesh. “You done this before?”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you move your head back and forth. Yosuke was the only one you did this with on your own, though you’ve taken a lot of dicks in your mouth in your time here in general. You remember Yosuke telling you that he wouldn’t be the only one to want this from you. Thinking of his voice now only upsets you, but you’re in no position to stop what you’re doing to Micah right now. You have to focus.

“Go faster already, stupid girl,” Micah grunts as you take another mouthful of his cock. “You’ve savored it enough.”

Your eyes open slightly as you scowl. However, you do as told and begin to quicken your jerking pace on his shaft and your bobbing motion. After a while, Micah grabs your wrist with his free hand and pulls your grip away from his cock. You pause a moment to look up at him finally in confusion, but he seems to be frowning while glaring back down at you with his dark eyes.

“The whole thing,” he commands you, tightening his grip on your wrist. “Down your throat. Now.”

A part of you hesitates as you glare up at the man with disdain, but Micah merely gives a chuckle now as he watches your expression.

“You want me to force it in or not?” He teases you. “Get to it. Relax your throat and gulp down my cock.”

Exhaling through your nose heavily, you try to relax your throat as instructed and slowly move your head forward even further. Your free hand, now gripping the metal table under you, presses against the flat surface harder as you endure more of Micah’s dick and let it slide into your throat fully, until you reach the base of his shaft. Your head lingers there a moment as you breathe into Micah’s crotch, but you eventually start to move your head back and forth more. You go slowly at first, but soon pick up your pace and breathe even more strongly through your nose as you deepthroat the man on your own. You again end up making gurgled moans as you endure it, but you’re unable to stop what you’re doing now. Even if you could, Micah would probably shove your head back in anyway.

As you keep working him, Micah lets out more and more groans and growls, letting his head fall back as he blissfully enjoys the feeling of his cock going deep into your mouth and throat. After a while of sucking him off, your jaw begins to tighten, but you try to keep going until Micah’s fully through with you. In moments, you feel his cock pulse and quiver against your tongue and cheeks before the doctor lets out one final grunt and spurts his cum into your throat. His fingers tighten more around your scalp as he fills you up with his warm ejaculate. A part of you wants to gag and retch, but you merely stay there with your lips and tongue pressing firmly against the man’s warm dick as he pumps his load into you, feeding you with it while you instinctively swallow with how far into your throat his fleshy member is.

Micah continues to groan and growl as he finishes up inside of you, even giving a few subtle thrusts as his pleasure overcomes him. He eventually calms down after a while, but he doesn’t let you go just yet.

“Good, good girl,” he praises you with a sly, low voice. “Now suck it clean.”

You blush and keep your eyes down, but do as told and suck on Micah’s dick as you slowly pull it out of your mouth, letting his juices linger on your tongue as your lips, tightened around his shaft, keep them inside of you. As you reach the man’s tip and suck the last bits of it clean, you feel one last little dribble of cum on your lips which leaves a light trail as you pull away.

Finally free, you gasp and breathe heavily, keeping your head down as you suck in air. Micah eventually lets your head and wrist go, letting you recover a moment before he gives a deep laugh.

“Alright, you did good,” he praises you once more. “For as stubborn as you are, you can sure milk a cock when you have to. So, lay back on that table and let me reward you.”

You refrain from looking back up at Micah after he says this, but do as instructed and shift your body around. You again lie longways on the metal table, pressing your back against the thing. Feeling the metal on your ass once you do manage to lay back makes your skin sting intensely. After having been spanked, it’s unsurprising you’d feel this. Still, you hadn’t expected to feel it so strongly just by laying down. You wonder how hard Micah had hit you in that case. Even Sven hadn’t hurt you bad enough for it to sting that long or that intensely after he spanked you.

Regardless, you continue to lay there and watch as Micah moves toward your feet. With a smirk plastered on his beige face, he undoes the binding around your ankles, which you realize is like what he used on you the first visit you had with him. He then lifts both your legs up with both his hands and cups the underside of your thighs firmly, letting the lowermost parts of your legs hang loosely. You gasp lightly as you feel your self being spread wide open with your pussy exposed to Micah.

“You’re really fucking wet,” He laughs as he observes you. “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t like all that shit I did. You can pretend you’re a big girl all you want, but in the end your body just begs to be fucked.”

You look away with your eyebrows still furrowed, but you say nothing. Being insulted like this always pisses you off, but you’d rather deal with being eaten out than roughly treated now.

“Now lie there and don’t be a little cunt,” Micah tells you firmly. “You do anything to upset me now and this’ll stop in a heartbeat. Got it?”

The sly man takes no time to let you respond before he leans in and starts to relentlessly tongue and suck at your clit. You whimper at the warmth of his lips and tongue as they swarm your lower body, wetly and forcefully lapping you up. You moan slightly at the sensation and end up pressing your palms flatly against the metal table, curling your fingers against the smooth surface as you endure being eaten out.

Micah doesn’t bother to pull away to make any comments about you. Rather, he remains focused on lapping up your pussy and clit eagerly while wrapping his rough fingers tightly around your thighs to keep you open for him. You end up gasping a few times when he uses different forceful motions of his tongue on you. Whether you want it to or not, your pleasure begins to build as Micah licks you up. You’re able to feel the roughness of his face against your crotch, and occasionally feel the small patch of hair he has on his chin brushing against you as he moves around on your lower body. Your face grows flushed and hot as you’re licked and sucked on, your hands now balling into fists and your toes curling at your rising pleasure. After so long of dealing with Micah’s rougher toying of you, feeling this now is unbearably satisfying.

Your chest begins to rise and fall sharply as you take in quick breaths in between your girlish moans. You almost can’t take any more of it and want to come in his face, but the moment you feel yourself just about to hit your peak, Micah suddenly pulls away from you and breathes in for air while groaning. Despite expecting to ride out your orgasm, you are unable to as the man refrains from touching his lips to you again after this. Instead, Micah watches you with a cocky grin on his face as you lay there after being denied the chance to come. A part of you almost feels disappointed at a lack of climax, despite being disgusted by the man overall.

“I think I changed my mind,” he tells you coyly, licking his lips of your juices. “Don’t get me wrong, you taste pretty fucking good. But I want to have a little fun too. Besides, you were only good for half the visit. So, you don’t get to finish with my tongue.”

You continue to lie there, breathing heavily while staring at Micah expectantly. Seeing you remain in silence, he lets your legs go and frowns at you, glaring at you with his dark eyes.

“You look disappointed,” he observes. With a cock of his head, Micah trails his rough palms slowly along your inner thighs. “What’s the matter? Didn’t want me to stop?”

The feeling of his touch doesn’t directly affect your pussy, but you end up letting a whimper escape your lips as your body starts anticipating being touched there. This makes the doctor by your feet cackle slightly.

“What a little whore,” he teases you further. “You can’t handle being on the brink. You just want to let go. But that’s too bad. You’ll get to come when I say you do. Even if I’m being nice, I’m still in charge. Remember?”

Again, you refrain from responding. You instead look away and let your legs uncontrollably tremble at being caressed. Even now, your body still wants to orgasm.

“I don’t wanna look at your stupid face,” Micah casually insults you. “Turn around. I’ll fuck your little cunt that way.”

Annoyed by being constantly insulted, you furrow your brows at the man but eventually follow his order and turn your body around. You end up leaning on both your forearms, pressing them against the metal table and folding them under you to steady yourself. Once your body is completely turned over, Micah again drags you down the table to make your legs dangle over the edge, but he pulls you down even further this time to allow your feet to fully touch the floor. His rough hands firmly grip your hips, and the sudden warmth on them makes you blush as you’re tugged away.

“Spread your legs,” Micah commands you once you’ve been positioned, tightening his grip on your flesh at the same time. Still red in the face, you do as told and part both your legs for the doctor. The moment that you’re exposed for him, Micah forces himself into you and makes you yelp.

“I don’t know why you’re making so much noise,” Micah grunts as he pushes into you and pulls back to repeat his motion. “That went in pretty easy. You just like playing this up, huh?”

You give no verbal response and instead moan and gasp loudly as the doctor starts to fuck you. He doesn’t go slow now that you’re wet enough to take him, rather immediately starting off with a steady, rhythmic thrusting pace and going deeply into you with each pump of his cock. Your hands once more ball into fists as you’re ridden, and each gasping, heavy breath you make leaves a pool of condensation and fog on the metal table beneath you.

Something about being penetrated after being denied the chance to come feels strangely good, and you can’t bring yourself to think anymore the longer you’re ridden. You eventually let your head drop to the table, your cheek pressed against the metal surface while Micah’s cock continues to pump in and out of you forcefully while his rough hands keep you firmly in place. Seeing your head fall from where he is makes him laugh.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He teases you with a sly voice between his rough grunts and heavy pants. “You like being fucked like this, huh? Like a good little slut?”

You can’t bring yourself to respond even if you want to. Your body is now welling with lust at finally being fucked after so long of being teased and abused. Even though your ass stings with each contact between it and Micah’s crotch, with every deep thrust he makes into your sopping hole, you can only focus on the pleasure now. Your inability to answer makes Micah chuckle again, and he ends up removing his hands from your waist. Instead, he leans forward and presses one palm against the table while wrapping his other hand around your chin, cupping it and pressing his fingers firmly against it. You shiver at the sensation of his warmth along your back and on your neck, but continue to whimper as Micah continues thrusting into you.

The redheaded young man worms his face’s way toward your right ear and somewhat giggles with a low voice into it, his rough skin brushing against your cheek and his breath hitting your face.

“I can be a little slutty myself, princess,” he purrs. “You like this better?”

He gives your cheek a bit of a long lick and promptly nips at your earlobe while giving a pleasured groan and makes you whimper. Before you can make any other noises, Micah moves his hand from your chin to your mouth and clamps it shut.

Micah continues to thrust into your pussy, pumping his cock deeply into it until you can’t take the sensation any longer. Coupled with the man’s warmth and his teasing, you find yourself letting go entirely. Your toes curl again, pressing into that hard examination floor while your fingers curl simultaneously into your palms.

“Can’t take it anymore, can you?” Micah gruffly laughs into your ear, his voice low and his breath hot. “You gonna come?”

You whimper and pant into his mouth, your saliva dripping from your lips and into his palm and fingers. Micah gives a deep chuckle and kisses your cheek hard.

“Then come, stupid girl,” he tells you firmly. “So that I can fill that cunt of yours up, just like you want. I told you I’d reward you, didn’t I?”

All at once, you feel pain on your ass, pleasure in your pussy, and warmth along your back. You can’t take the sensation of Micah’s thrusts any longer and feel the walls of your vagina tighten and wrap around the man’s dick as you yearn to let go and slip into your orgasmic bliss. Micah continues to grunt and growl slightly as he keeps bucking his hips against you, and soon you find yourself letting go entirely.

In moments, your eyes widen, and your breath quickens. You let your body grind back against the man as you come, your pleasure only heightened when you feel Micah’s cock pulsing and welling inside of you as it prepares to releases its load into your cunt. Promptly, Micah lets out a loud growling groan right into your ear, his fingers pressing firmly against your flesh as he lets go and spills his warmth into you.

“Fuck!” He growls, hanging his head and pumping deeper, but more slowly into your pussy as he continues to come. Your body trembles as you ride out the last of your orgasm, your breaths heavy and loud as you let them loose into Micah’s hand. After a while of bliss, you eventually calm yourself down and slow your breaths.

The doctor atop you gives a deep laugh from within his chest that you can feel vibrating against your back as he makes it. You half expect Micah to keep fucking you, but he strangely doesn’t. In fact, he seems finished entirely as his next move is to pull away and out of you completely. Your pussy makes a loud wet noise as the man tugs himself out of it, and you can feel his cum dripping out of you as you’re freed.

“You’re not going to just keep going?” You breathe, keeping your head low as you watch the leftover saliva fall from your lips to the table. You give your chin a quick wipe with the back of your hand, but don’t move otherwise. “Like everyone always does?”

“If you were a little nicer to me, I might have,” Micah answers you bluntly, moving to a cabinet to find a towel to clean himself off. “Stupid girl. I said I’d treat you nice if you were good and you went and acted up. So no, you don’t get more. Once is enough.”

He zips himself back up once he finishes cleaning his crotch of both your juices.

“Besides, I got my fill toying with you and fucking your mouth,” he goes on. “The rest was just me being courteous. You should be thankful I even bothered.”

His back is turned toward you as he readjusts his clothing. In the meantime, you weakly sit yourself up on the table and wince at the pain in your ass, but are a little more accustomed to it now than you were before. You angrily wipe your cheek of Micah’s saliva from where he licked you, but feel a wet sensation still on your skin somewhere that you can’t quite place and hadn’t noticed before with all the other sensations keeping your body busy. You tap around the right side of your face and feel for it until you reach a little lower and catch just where it is.

You place your palm on your shoulder and pull it back in front of you only to catch sight of a good bit of blood coating your upper palm and fingers. You’d practically forgotten Micah cut you at all with everything that had been going on, but seeing the blood now only makes you freeze up. Your mind flashes back to seeing Jay’s blood all over the hallway floor, and you again relive seeing her get shot to death by the strange dark-haired man. Remembering this makes you feel like puking like it had when Yosuke took you to the hall again after a while of being held in your rooms. But this time, you seem to be unable to hold it in. Your eyes go wide, and you immediately turn to the side a bit and vomit onto the floor, your stomach churning, and your throat retching.

Your sudden sick outburst causes Micah to turn around and look at you with a slightly downturned brow and partially widened eyes. A mixture of disgust and surprise, you assume, but you can’t focus on him now. With the contents of your stomach now all over the floor, you begin to spit out to clear your mouth of the disgusting, raw and acidic taste of your bile. If Micah chides you for making a mess, so be it.

Strangely, the man does nothing but sigh and return to the cabinets. You end up holding your head in your clean hand and try to mentally and physically recover from what just happened. Before you can think too much on it, Micah steps closer to where you are, standing in front of you. The first thing you notice are his black loafers and white pants, but you immediately feel his rough hand cup under your chin and tilt your head back. With wide eyes, you look at him in surprise as he takes a small towel and begins to dab your mouth to clean it of any residue.

“Now I have to stand here and baby your stupid ass,” He grumbles, furrowing his red brows. “What the fuck’s got you so worked up anyway? You didn’t act this way when I cut your chest.”

You shift your eyes away as you’re cleaned off.

“I don’t know,” you lie, your voice a bit scratchy from your throat being burned by vomiting. You wonder if Micah really has no idea what happened to you, or if he’s just pretending it didn’t as per some order. The doctor doesn’t seem to buy this, as he scoffs at you and pulls the towel and his hands away from your mouth.

“If you’re going to lie to someone, you could at least look them in the eye, stupid.”

With a cleaner end of the towel, Micah wipes off your shoulder of blood. He then grabs your wrist roughly and forces your bloody palm face up so that he can wipe it off as well. Once he’s done, he promptly tosses the towel away. Without lingering, the man moves back to the cabinets behind you and fishes for something.

“So you know what happened,” You mutter, trying to be vague.

“Yeah, I got a footnote about it,” Micah answers you from afar. “But I don’t exactly care. It’s not my job to console people, and I don’t really ask questions or get involved if I don’t have to. But we’re not supposed to talk about it, so shut the fuck up and don’t get yourself in trouble.”

He returns to you with a bottle of peroxide, a smaller hand towel that’s been twisted and tightened, and some cotton balls in his hands.

“Playtime’s over, but I can still hurt you if I need to,” Micah continues, prepping a cotton ball with the peroxide. “I’m not gonna coddle you and talk about your feelings or something. You listen to orders and you shut up. That’s it.”

With the thing prepped, Micah sticks the hand towel in your face and looks at you with his dark eyes.

“Bite.”

You don’t bother to ask what he means. You’re able to gather easily what he’s about to do, so you obey and open your mouth enough to let the man stuff the towel into it. Biting on the cloth now, you take a deep breath and raise your hands up to Micah’s dark shirt to grip it firmly. Seeing that you’re ready, the doctor dabs the cut on your shoulder with peroxide. You hadn’t realized just how long and deep the cut really was, but feeling a singing, burning pain in your shoulder now as the peroxide is brushed against your skin makes you utterly aware of it now. Maybe you misjudged its severity when it happened, but you make no mistake anymore as everything begins to burn. You whimper and groan agonizingly into the towel in your mouth while clenching your teeth down onto it.

You end up slightly hunching over and gripping Micah’s shirt tightly at the excruciating sensation, but for as painful as it is, it ends fairly quickly. You hadn’t experienced this sensation when Mom cleaned you before, but perhaps because the cut is far fresher this time, it hurts so much more. You’re not sure. Nonetheless, you’re relieved once it’s over, and you promptly release your visitor’s shirt and drop your hands.

“You really are fragile as fuck,” Micah scoffs, retracting his hand and dropping the bloodied cotton ball onto the floor with the rest of everything that’s already there. Perhaps he figures making a mess doesn’t matter now anyway. “That cut’s not much worse than what I gave you before. But you seem to be more sensitive to pain today.”

“If it’s such a damn issue for you to take care of me, then why do it when I’m awake?” You question after angrily pulling the cloth out of your mouth. The redheaded doctor’s utter disdain at having to deal with you pisses you off. You don’t like being blatantly seen as a mere inconvenience or a burden any more than you like being seen as an object.

“Look, you’re clearly still messed up by that thing that didn’t happen,” Micah spits out, running his fingers lightly along your shoulder by the cut to assess it while he speaks. “I don’t want you puking in your sleep or something. You could die, and that’d be a pretty pathetic way to go after everything you’ve dealt with so far.”

Hearing these words makes you scowl, but you say nothing of them. Your reaction was only emotionally induced. You doubt you’d throw up in your sleep in that case. Mom had said Micah could be soft on people. If this is what she meant, you’re none too pleased by it. Even when he tries to give a shit, he’s still an asshole. However, Micah’s words make you think back to your earlier conversation with him.

“Did you tell me what you did before because you were trying to make me feel better?” You ask, recalling Micah’s words on fear. “Why look out for me if you don’t even like me? Why take care of me at all?”

“I don’t do it for you, stupid ass,” Micah frowns, retracting his hand. His reaction makes you believe the answer to your question is positive, even if he doesn’t explicitly say it. “Making sure you’re okay enough for us to keep doing what we do is just part of the job. I hate babying you fucks, but I have to sometimes.”

Micah moves his eyes away for a moment, disdainful.

“Besides, I don’t want you completely broken. I’ve dealt with enough dead fishes before. Even my Number acts like one sometimes when she’s in one of her stupid little moods.”

This remark takes you aback as you’re forced to think of Violet laying utterly in defeat at her doctor’s mercy. Has she been this way since Cyrus spoke with her?

Micah merely glowers at you.

“You ought to toughen up, girl,” he chides. “You won’t last here if you don’t grow up.”

The implication that you’re weak again frustrates you, but Micah’s words also make you think of your first meeting with Lilah. She’d said something akin to this herself—girls like you hardly last long here.

“Lilah had said the same thing,” you mutter mindlessly. “You sound just like her.”

“She isn’t wrong,” Micah looks away as if in thought, his expression softening slightly. “That woman’s some kind of a demon. A real bitch. But she knows what she’s talking about.”

He then re-shifts his focus on you.

“You’ll never get to know because your doctor’s a protective schmuck who doesn’t want you getting hurt too much, but Lilah feels the same way about pain that I do about fear. She’s crazy, but not like, ‘Mommy’ crazy. She’s not too bad a person when you really get to know her.”

“Gale implied the same about Milos, but I don’t really believe that any more than I believe this,” you glower. “Lilah seemed to hate most everyone when I spoke with her.”

“Gale sees a lot of things in people that others don’t,” Micah responds to your first statement and folds his arms. “I don’t really like their pansy approaches to things. They’re too soft, but I guess it's good they're willing to hear all sides of things. Milos, on the other hand, is a bit too much at times. Fucker can drink himself into next week without a scratch though. It’s almost impressive. He’s known Lilah a little longer than me and they get along from what I hear. So don’t go thinking she hates everybody. She just doesn’t show gratitude or kindness like normal people. Like I said, she’s a real bitch. Some people just don’t know how to tell the difference between her being casual and her being legitimately upset unless some kind of verbal threat is involved to make it more clear.”

“You talk about her like you know her so well,” you observe, scoffing bitterly. “You preach about fear and she preaches about pain. You two must really be made for each other.”

This statement seems to upset Micah, as he raises his hand and slaps you across the cheek as he had before. Your face stings deeply afterward, and you hold it as you recover from being hit. As you look back at the man before you, he points a finger at you angrily.

“Don’t be such a goddamned smart mouth!” he spits out. “I took care of you instead of leaving you like I should have, for fuck’s sake. You gonna thank me by being a cunt?”

You furrow your brows at Micah. “Do you expect me to apologize? I am terrified of you. Of all of you. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to me, and every day that goes by I’m terrified. I’m hurt. I’m tired.”

Micah says nothing for a moment, merely looking down at you with a cocked head and a lowered brow. After a brief silence, he pushes you hard back on the table and pins one of your wrists down firmly. With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket and grabs his knife again, opening it up swiftly and shoving the cold blade into your mouth. He presses the sharp edge against your tongue. Your eyes widen and your heart again begins to beat quickly, but you don’t attempt to fight Micah this time.

“You’re weak,” the man corrects you with a low, firm voice. “You don’t know anything, and you don’t know how to deal with anything. All you do is whine and pretend you’re tough, but you crumble over every little thing. You want to survive here? Then listen when I say you need to stop being a fucking child. Understand, girl?”

You are unable to answer. Your hands begin to tremble, but you refuse to avert your gaze from Micah’s face. Even in the midst of your shaking, you stare the man down. Even as you feel him press his knife more against your tongue, you try to keep yourself focused. The doctor assesses you a moment, but eventually smirks and removes his knife from your mouth.

“Nice try,” he tells you, “but I can still see the fear in your eyes. But don’t worry. You’ll learn eventually.”

“To hide it, or to stop having it at all?” You question him uncertainly. Micah cocks his head to the side just slightly and frowns.

“That depends on you, doesn’t it?”

He then puts his knife away. Before he moves completely off of you, Micah leans in and kisses your cheek somewhat roughly. Without another word, he finally lets you go, rising and heading toward the room door while leaving you lying on the table. Despite being free to get back up, you refrain from doing so and merely stay where you are even after Micah has left the room.

After another torturous visit, you breathe a sigh of relief now that you’re alone, and let yourself close your eyes. Whether it’s the exhaustion from earlier, or the anesthetic hits you first, you don’t know. You welcome the wave of sleep nonetheless, wanting only to get away from this room. Even now, you still uncomfortably remember the events that took place in it before today. Laying on this table only brings back the memory of Yosuke fucking you on one before you passed out, and you’d rather not have to relive that anymore. Luckily, it doesn’t take very long before your consciousness fades, and soon you're no longer able to think about anything.

Chapter 47: Rest Twenty Three - Settle

Water pours atop your skin as your mind and body shake back into awareness. The shower wall is married to the side of your wet head as you’re taken care of once more by your doctor while sitting on the floor. Even when you’re back to your state of awareness wherein you can clearly comprehend what’s going on, you don’t bother to open your eyes just yet. Parts of your body still ache from Micah’s treatment of it, with your butt and shoulder still slightly stinging. The small nap also did very little to relieve your exhaustion. It might be a good idea to try sleeping everything off on one of the theater beds, but you’d also not like to waste your precious time without seeing anyone you actually care about. You ought to make the most of your time here while you still can.

Yosuke’s fingers can be lightly felt trailing your shoulder where Micah cut you, and you figure your doctor is examining the injury. You hear him give a light sigh, but continue to feel the man wash your body, carrying on since he has nothing else he can do.

“I hope he isn’t going to mark you up every time you see him,” Yosuke’s low voice suddenly calls out to you. How does he always seem to know you’re awake? He didn’t used to be able to tell, did he? Perhaps he’s grown more accustomed to your small gestures as you have with his. This doesn’t necessarily make you feel good to know.

You open your eyes slowly and flicker them toward the man hovering above you, your eyebrows turning downward just slightly when you see his face. You make no attempts to move otherwise. Even though letting your doctor touch you now doesn’t make you feel particularly good, you’re too tired to fight him. You merely go limp and make it hard for the man to deal with you just because you’re still upset.

“Micah likes to be a bit of a pain at times,” Yosuke continues speaking as he lifts one of your arms to clean it. He doesn’t appear at all bothered by your silence, nor your lack of cooperation. You guess you shouldn’t be surprised. “I’d say he likes to push people’s buttons, but he can be more well behaved than he looks, if he feels like it. But he doesn’t like being told ‘no’ sometimes. I explicitly told him not to do anything excessive.”

He lowers your arm after cleaning it and trails the back of his hand along your cheek.

“You’re delicate, after all. But he figured a nick or two wouldn’t be much of a big deal. Still, he’s less of a handful than Lilah or Milos. But he’s young. Like Lilah, he thinks he’s invincible. The rest of us know full well that we aren’t. If we decide to act out, it’s often because we’ve already weighed the consequences and have chosen to act anyway. Sometimes we do outlandish things despite knowing they’re wrong.”

You continue to say nothing, looking down at the shower floor and remaining purposefully limp while Yosuke continues to clean you up. You're not sure why he's telling you all of this. After a while of him maneuvering you, the doctor finally gets up to reach toward the shower door where his coat is hanging. When you glance up at it, you notice a few light stains on the collar that look to be blood. You’re assuming Micah didn’t bother dressing your wound and that it ended up bleeding just a bit more before Yosuke came to collect you. Seeing his coat now also leads you to assume the man was “nice” enough to at least cover you before ferrying your body over. You look away from it again after thinking about this image and continue to sit quietly.

When Yosuke kneels back down to your level, he grips your chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifts your head up. Surprised, you look forward and see a toothbrush loaded with toothpaste being held before you.

“You’ll want your mouth clean after all that vomiting you did,” He notes with a light tone. He tries to get you to part your lips, but you finally opt to move. You pull away and grab the toothbrush from your doctor, snatching it out of his hand before he can react.

“I’ll do that myself,” you tell him firmly. You can handle being bathed by the man when you at least have the option of looking away from him, but having him brush your teeth would force you to look straight at Yosuke. You’d rather not.

Your doctor doesn’t bat an eye at this gesture, merely watching you as you clean yourself of the sour residue on your tongue and cheeks.

“Why did you throw up, dear?” Yosuke questions you with a light tilt of his head. “Did Micah do that to you?”

“No,” you muffledly respond between brushes, keeping your eyes fixated on the floor. You eventually finish up and spit out, using shower water that you pool in your hand to rinse your mouth out. Not knowing what to do with the brush, you place it on the floor and keep your eyes away from Yosuke.

“I saw blood,” you admit bluntly. “It freaked me out a little.”

“Is that all?” Yosuke chuckles. “My, you really are so sensitive.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You scowl. Yosuke then moves his hand up to the faucet to turn the water off, then returns it down to your level. He again takes hold of your chin and leans in to kiss you once he’s forced your head forward again. Luckily, he doesn’t linger long. He rises once he’s pulled away and looks down at you with a gentle expression.

“Get dressed, won’t you?”

As per usual when you’re not unconscious for these showers, you dry yourself off and reach for the fresh set of clothes left out for you by the benches at the entrance. Yosuke holds his coat in one arm while you start uncomfortably dressing in front of your observant doctor, refusing to look up at him all the while. Unnerved by the silence now, you think back to your outburst last time you were with Yosuke. You had been upset about the notebook when you saw it, but now that you’ve gotten your frustrations out, you’re able to recall it without reacting outwardly too much. Or maybe you’re too tired to really react.

“Yosuke, why did Gale give me a journal?” You ask.

“Hm?” Your doctor makes a low noise, raising an eyebrow. “Not sure. I don’t always know what their motivations are. They merely asked that I give it to you and said you might genuinely need it. I’m under the impression it was a gesture of kindness. They want you to be open. Like me, they want what’s best for you.”

“I don’t genuinely believe that,” You respond bluntly, shaking your head slightly while tugging down the hem of your fresh gown.

“You reacted very strongly the other day,” Yosuke observes, calling you out on your prior actions. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I wasn’t exactly expecting it. Gale didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised at the gesture either. But they do worry about you.”

“Glad to know you two are so buddy-buddy about toying with my feelings,” you sneer. This bitter remark causes Yosuke to lightly tilt his head.

“Ten, do you hate them?”

This question takes you aback slightly. You’re not entirely sure how to answer. A “yes” isn’t enough. There’s more to it. You undoubtedly hate the things the doctors do to you, but Gale isn’t always mean to you. Still, when they choose to act cruelly, they are very good at it.

“I don’t particularly like any of you,” You choose to answer. “No matter how kindly some of you treat me, It just hurts to be here. But you should know how I feel about it already.”

Yosuke doesn’t seem moved by this statement whatsoever. Merely, he looks on at you silently while you finish dressing. Once you’ve managed to refresh yourself, you’re surprised to see Yosuke pull out a wide-toothed comb from his coat pocket. He drops the lightly bloodied garment on the bench, then moves in toward you to start running the comb through your hair. Seeing this, however, makes you pull away nervously and look up at him with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

Yosuke laughs lightly. “Your hair’s a bit of a mess after that visit. I wanted to sort it out for you. I do it now and then when you’re not awake.”

You blush while still turning your brows downward, but end up reaching over to try grabbing the comb. However, Yosuke retracts it before you can.

“I’d like to do this for you,” he insists gently. “It's my job to care for you, after all. So stay still for me, my dear.”

You glower slightly, but again shift your gaze away from the man and let him comb your damp hair. Yosuke runs the plastic thing along your ends and scalp ever so gently, and you can feel him watching you with his olive eyes even though you’re not looking at him. The both of you stay in an uncomfortable silence as you’re taken care of. Even though the moment hardly lasts long, it feels like an eternity before Yosuke finishes with you.

“There,” he remarks happily, as if pleased with his work. “Now we can go.”

You’re not sure why Yosuke is acting so strangely toward you. More than usual, anyway. He’s still teased you a little, he’s still acting uncomfortably toward you in the name of being your “caretaker”. But this feels off. You don’t much want to linger on the thought, but Eight had said to be careful and so you know you should try being more alert. It’s not certain what your doctor is trying to do beyond what he usually does. Maybe it’s just been a while since he’s acted like this rather than how he has been as of late. You’ve seen him angry, you’ve seen him hesitant. Now, maybe he’s just back to his old self. With everything that’s happened, maybe you just forgot what that old self even was. Some sick part of you even missed his kinder tendencies, even if they’re motivated by disgusting desires.

The both of you step out into the hall. You linger behind Yosuke as he walks you down it, but when you look up, your heart drops. Quite a few doors down, you’re able to catch sight of two familiar bodies. To the left is the unmistakably large frame of Milos with his arms folded, and to the right, standing in front of him, is Lilah with a hand on her hip and another hand casually waving around in the air. The two appear to be lost in their own conversation, not having noticed you and your doctor whatsoever with how far away you are.

Compared to the hulking man, Lilah looks paper thin and miniscule. Her pale skin seems almost ghostly like Cyrus’ when it’s compared with Milos’ sandier tone. As you and your doctor slowly step forward, you can see that Lilah’s wearing some kind of safety goggles on her head, and her white coat is closed. Knowing her profession now, you’re absolutely certain that she was working within it. Your mind begins to run as fast as your heart after this consideration is given. Was she working on Jay? Was she touching and tearing apart that poor girl’s limp, cold body?

You stop again with a now-churning stomach and tightly grip Yosuke’s arm from in front of you out of instinct, not necessarily because you meant to. Your other hand again reaches up to your mouth, but no vomit comes out this time. You’d have been a little annoyed if it did after just cleaning yourself up. It vexes you that you’re still reacting so horribly to this whole thing despite wanting to overcome it and move on. First you couldn’t stop crying, now you can’t stop wanting to vomit. You just want it to stop entirely.

Being grabbed causes Yosuke to stop walking and turn himself toward you with one of his eyebrows slightly raised. He reaches over to you with his other hand, and once you’re able to asses that you’re not going to hurl again, you mindlessly take your hand away from your mouth and let it cup over your doctor’s extended palm. You’d not realized it in your light panic, but you had hunched over slightly when you started to feel the sensation of wanting to vomit. You straighten yourself back up now. After gathering yourself a moment, you realize you’re holding your doctor’s hands and promptly retract them. Yosuke says nothing, but you can see by his coy smile that he’s amused by your reaction.

With the brief interruption over, Yosuke again turns and continues on down the hall. Lingering behind him, you start to wonder whether you should just ask him to take you back for a little bit. You don’t want to have to face these two doctors right now, and you’re sure they’ll inevitably start a conversation with Yosuke when they see him. You’d rather wait until they’re gone.

Unfortunately, you’re given little choice but to follow your doctor to them. Silently, you pray that he won’t stop, but he naturally does. Now that you’re close enough to hear the two doctors, both Milos and Lilah seem to be laughing over something. This is surprising. It’s not strange because they’re being jovial with one another—Micah had mentioned the two were on some good terms. Merely, you’ve not seen Lilah genuinely smile before. However, she returns to her usual bitter expression once she catches sight of you. Her icy eyes flicker your way unpleasantly, her painted brows furrowing as she looks disgusted by your mere presence. Seeing her reminds you of your dream, where she appeared to you before Jay’s death. As it is, you weren’t at all happy to have met her the first time. But that dream only furthered your association of her with death. You likely have no reason to be scared now, but your heart is still beating wildly. Micah had said fear means you’re alive, but you don’t exactly want to be so in this moment, facing her. You wish you’d stayed unconscious long enough for your doctor to bring you somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

Milos glances at you with his dark eyes next, though he grins and gives a light chuckle before turning to Yosuke.

“And how are you two doing?” He questions, his gruff, loud voice piercing your ears and making you tremble. “I don’t believe I’ve had the luxury of seeing you two together before.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it one,” Lilah spits out before Yosuke can respond. Though, he’s apparently waited before answering, as if knowing she’d make a remark first. You’re unsure if she’s bitter because she dislikes you, or because you’ve interrupted a conversation. You’d believe either with how crude a person she is in general. Yosuke doesn’t seem at all phased by either doctor’s reactions, merely smiling.

“Everything’s been just fine,” he casually remarks, as if it were true. You find yourself slightly hiding behind him, but both the other doctors notice this. Milos watches you intently with a smirk on his lips. He finds your hesitant gesture amusing. Lilah does not, evidenced by the disgust her face is wrought with.

“It’s wonderful to see my little pup again,” Milos chuckles, stepping forward just slightly so that you have to see him. “Are you well?”

You say nothing, merely staring at the floor now and trying to keep yourself calm.

“Well, are you going to answer him or not?” Lilah bitterly questions you, staring you down with a scowl. “Stop hiding behind your doctor like a coward.”

“She’s a little shaken, don’t worry about her,” Yosuke laughs politely. “She’s still not used to everyone yet.”

Milos moves more toward you now, causing your heart to jump. Unexpectedly, he bends his body just slightly until his head is levelled with yours. With his rough, coarse hands, he cups the underside of your chin and playfully rubs it. Your body starts to tremble as he does so. Even Yosuke looks somewhat displeased at this gesture, as he looks down at the large man with a light frown.

“Yosuke, tell me,” Milos speaks up, still eyeing you while he uncomfortably caresses your skin. “When will you let me see my little pup again?”

This remark causes Lilah to smirk lightly to herself in amusement, but she remains silent and observant of the scene before her.

“You know the answer to that, Simanek,” Yosuke answers back at the man with a firmer tone. Milos drops his hand and chuckles, then pushes off his knee and stands back up straight. Taking his attention away from you, the gruff man turns and steps toward Yosuke, then stares him down with a light smile plastered on his face. For as taller than you as Yosuke is, Milos stands a good bit above him. Even so, your doctor continues to stare up at him without batting an eye. Even when green-shirted man places his large hand assertively on Yosuke’s shoulder, your doctor does not stir.

“Is that so?” Milos questions him with a polite tone, but you’re able to tell there’s more behind this statement than there seems to be at face value. You continue to tremble slightly, but stay still and look at Yosuke worriedly. He doesn’t seem moved whatsoever, rather firm and grounded.

“Yes,” he casually tells Milos without hesitation. “I said what I said, Simanek. I still respect your work and your skill, but I prefer to handle these things my way. At least respect that.”

Milos pauses a moment, assessing Yosuke while still smiling politely. After a while, he gives a bellowing laugh and pats Yosuke’s cheek casually.

“As you like, then,” he jovially remarks. “Chisaka.”

“Why bother anyway?” Lilah questions Milos with a scoff as she watches the man shift himself away from Yosuke and by her side. She no longer seems amused by this display, reverting back to her barking, annoyed tone. “She’s worthless.”

“That depends on what your definition of worth is, doesn’t it?” Yosuke glances at the thin woman.

This makes Lilah give a throated, exaggerated laugh. “I can’t help it if your standards are low.”

Milos laughs bellowingly. “Now Lilah, are you implying my standards are low as well?

“Are you implying I wouldn't?” Lilah smirks at the large man, making him smile.

“Why are you two here chatting instead of working, anyway?” Yosuke quickly changes the subject. Even though he doesn’t sound it, you can tell he’s genuinely getting annoyed. Perhaps he’s saving face by hiding it. For as little as you care for the man, you don’t much blame him for doing so.

Milos merely gives a light shrug.

“What can we say? The conversation got interesting,” he casually remarks. “I was actually on my way to pick up Jonathan’s boy before I stopped.”

“For as fragile as he is, that little runt took a hit to the face like a champ, I’ll give him that,” Lilah remarks. She almost sounds amused, though she immediately frowns. “But then he went and fell like an idiot. I’m convinced he did it on purpose.”

You’re insulted on Two’s behalf by the young woman’s words, but keep yourself quiet and your head low.

“I still need to look his injuries over to make sure they’re healing properly,” Milos continues. “I only happened to stumble across my little Valentine here and we stopped to catch up.”

He moves a large hand over to Lilah’s cheek runs the back of it along her flesh sweetly. The woman doesn’t bother to flinch at this gesture, but she isn’t particularly pleased by it as she gives an annoyed scoff and looks away in, you assume, embarrassment. Milos chuckles as he watches her reaction.

“She has been busy lately.”

He glances over at you knowingly and lightly grins when he sees your eyes widen as you understand what he’s referring to. Not only does he seem to be aware of what happened, but he’s now making light of it just to mess with you. This subtle exchange makes you simultaneously angry and frightened, but Yosuke subtly reaches behind him and grabs one of your shaking hands before you can react to Milos’ words. Despite not wanting to rely on your doctor, you accept his hand now and grip it firmly, desperate for some kind of relief from this discomfort. Both of you seem to know to keep this gesture hidden, so you remain with your arm behind your doctor’s back.

“I had to stop and drop off some paperwork myself,” Lilah adds to the conversation, explaining her presence to Yosuke but not really addressing him directly or even looking at him. “I was going between places and caught Milos heading here. We only stopped for a minute or two. I don’t see how it’s a big deal.”

She glances at you again and frowns.

“What the fuck are you so shaken up by anyway? She spits at you. “You look like you’re about to piss yourself. Fucking baby.”

“Now Lilah, give the girl some credit,” Milos laughs. “She’s still new.”

“New my ass,” The purple-haired woman gives a half-laugh. She then looks at you and points a sharp, painted fingernail toward you. “I’m sure you’ve been around long enough to know how this works. You’re just a little bitch.”

She steps forward and raises her hand as if to strike you, and you instinctively flinch. When Lilah gets the reaction she expects, she scoffs.

“Told you.”

“Now that’s enough,” Yosuke calls out firmly, lowering his brows slightly. He lightly squeezes your hand in his. “Your tactics aren’t welcome on my Number. I’d prefer you stop.”

“Whatever.” Lilah gives a roll of her eyes and lowers her hand. She huffs and readjusts the band of her goggles slightly.

“I ought to get back to work anyway. Boss is being pushy with me again like an asshole,” she grumbles. “Like we have deadlines or something. Geez.”

Not bothering with any kind of formal goodbye, she pushes past everyone and walks off down the hall toward the higher room numbers. Though, neither Milos nor Yosuke seem particularly phased by her gesture.

“She is a free spirit, that one,” Milos chuckles, rubbing his lightly bearded chin thoughtfully between his fingers. “Her fire is admirable.”

“If you like that kind of thing,” Yosuke shrugs slightly. Despite his earlier annoyance, he appears to have regained himself and returned to his polite demeanor. “She and Micah both are too hotheaded for their own good. They can get excessive.”

This statement amuses Milos, and he gives another bellowing laugh. “The young are often this way. But you’re not at the point where you can reminisce about that yet. Perhaps when you get to be like me, you’ll find yourself far less inclined to be upset by it.”

Yosuke then glances up at Milos with his olive eyes, his gaze still firm and unamused. He tugs at your hand and signals you to keep walking.

“If you’ll excuse me, doctor.”

“Another time, then, Chisaka,” Milos nods. Despite saying that he needed to go collect Two, meaning that he likely should follow you and Yosuke to the gate, Milos doesn’t move from where he is. Instead, he watches you and your doctor as you walk down the hall, observing with a smile. You turn your head slightly to see him, but immediately turn away when you lock eyes with the man.

“Are you alright, Ten?” Yosuke asks you while continuing to walk. You’d like to let go of his hand now, but he’s gripping it firmly as he leads you and you’re unable to pull away. “I know they can be a bit of a handful for you.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter half-heartedly. Your heart is still racing and your legs and hands still shaking somewhat, but you’re otherwise doing much better now that you’ve been taken away from Milos and Lilah. “Do you dislike them?”

“Of course not,” Yosuke says simply, almost sharply. “But like anyone, they can be a handful at times. Even so, it’d be unprofessional to start a fight needlessly upon disagreement.”

You find this statement odd given the earlier spat he and Mom had. Why is she the exception?

Yosuke says nothing after this, so you don’t bother to question it anymore. Instead, you focus on your own train of thought. You have no idea what the hell Micah and Milos seem to see in Lilah that they treat or speak of her with genuine kindness. Even Yosuke appears to get worn out by her attitude despite accepting that it’s a part of her. You didn’t at all enjoy being insulted or looked down on by someone who doesn’t even know you well enough to judge you properly. As it is, you’re mad that Micah called you weak, and now Lilah has too. Even Yosuke said you were sensitive. Are you really that pathetic? You’re still fighting as best you can. But how could anyone expect you not to be fearful after everything you’ve been going through since you came here?

Micah wasn’t wrong to say you need to toughen up. But how can you? You want to be as strong as someone like Lav is, as forward and unapologetic as her. But that’s not exactly a role you can just slip into. Cyrus has made it apparent that these things take time. Even just seeing the other Numbers has shown you that it takes a while to reach their level of acceptance. Yet…people like Violet and Three haven’t quite accepted things yet, even if they are able to go along with it because they know they have to.

Both girls merely cover their displeasure, their fear, with individual people. They cling to others. Violet losing her outlet only means she’s at risk to losing herself too. And should the twins ever be separated, Three would crumble as well. She already seemed to when she thought her brother had disappeared. Instead, she clung to you. Hopefully you don’t end up this way, and hopefully both girls can learn to overcome their dependencies. You aren’t sure just how long they’ve been here, but if Three’s been here even longer than Violet and still crumbles easily, you’re sure the risk of being eternally broken is always there. You suppose it depends on the person. Still, after what Cyrus had mentioned happened with some of the previous Numbers, it’s horrifying to think you could be lost to your own fear, succumbing to it utterly to a point of numbness or self-destruction.

You’re not sure if it’s worse to live long and suffer, or to die painfully in either a mental or physical sense, yet be freed of your mortal misery. You can’t fathom wanting to die. Even though you suffer now, you still want to live. Maybe you’re just naïvely hopeful, even through all the misery you’re brought.

“Ten, where are you going?” Yosuke’s voice shakes you from your thoughts. You realize you’ve been mindlessly walking forward, and have continued to walk forward even after your doctor stopped by the gate. Shaken back to reality, you notice that he’s behind you now, and that you’ve almost walked into the door leading to the hallway that Jay emerged from. You gaze up at the metal thing with wide eyes, but ultimately step away from it and back toward your doctor. His hand is no longer holding yours, you notice. You don’t really even know when he let go.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Yosuke questions you when you return to him. He runs his fingers through your hair and smiles gently. “You didn’t get too scared, did you?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble, looking down. “I just got distracted. Stop babying me.”

This takes your doctor aback slightly. “You never complained before.”

“I complain all the goddamn time and you don’t listen to me!” You shoot back with a scowl. “Yosuke, stop acting like this! I’m not in the mood! I don’t understand anything anymore and I don’t want it!”

You put a hand to your forehead and sigh.

“I-I’m just tired,” you admit. “I don’t know what to think.”

“It’s better that you don’t right now,” Your doctor tells you firmly. “Focus on what will keep you happy. Even if it isn’t me. I won’t be offended.”

He chuckles and lifts your chin, swiping a thumb gently along your lips. You look up at him with moroseness in your eyes. Seeing your expression, Yosuke smiles again and leans in to kiss you. Before you have a chance to protest, a set of doors to your right from behind the gate opens, and from it emerges Cyrus. Both of you lock eyes immediately as you glance over to look at him worriedly. Seeing you interacting with your doctor, Cyrus tries to walk away and leave you alone, but Yosuke catches sight of him before he has a chance to walk off.

“One,” he calls out, dropping your chin and pulling away. “Where are you going?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Cyrus answers your doctor. You see Yosuke step directly in front of the gate, and even though you try to grab him to stop him, he doesn’t acknowledge you. “I was just-“

“Come here,” Yosuke interrupts him with a command. Cyrus looks at the man with unease. He doesn’t seem to know how to interact with him, but he does as told and approaches the gate. From behind it, Yosuke reaches over and grabs the young man’s jaw, lifting his head up to examine him.

“I remember you,” Yosuke mumbles, tilting his head slightly. “You weren’t much for me.”

Cyrus says nothing, merely looking up at Yosuke, still with uncertainty in his eyes. He remains motionless otherwise, keeping his hands still by his sides and letting the man observe him. Yosuke pulls the young man's head to the left and right, examining his profile thoroughly.

“Your mother takes good care of you, I see,” Yosuke continues, frowning. “Tell me, are you happy here?”

“I have no strong opinions,” Cyrus says openly, his voice low. He remains vague in his answer, with good reason. “Even if I’m not, I can’t afford not to be.”

Yosuke tightens his grip on Cyrus’ jaw as he continues to stare into the young man’s aqua eyes. He seems to be trying to gather something, but you’re not sure what. After a moment, he opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s interrupted.

“Yosuke,” Mom’s voice firmly calls from the records office. All three of you turn your heads to the door, having been so focused that none of you noticed the woman emerging. She glowers at the man. “I’d very much appreciate it if you let my baby boy go.”

Your doctor does so promptly, retracting his hand and turning his head toward the woman without an expression on his face. Mom, however, smiles once Cyrus has been released and returns to her chipper self. She sounded almost normal talking to Yosuke just now, but she immediately regains her lively, lusty tone.

“You never told me you were interested in him,” She teases, giggling. Despite her having been upset at him before when you last saw her, she seems absolutely fine now. You’d say she’s trying to save face, but you’ve also known the woman to flip through moods quickly in general. “Yosuke, you can always ask if you want to see him again. All you have to do is say ‘mother, may I?’.”

“You know that I don’t,” The man glowers just slightly. “Mother. In any case, I was here to drop off my Number. I only happened to catch yours.”

“Isn’t he just precious?” Mom questions with another giggle. She walks closer to the gate and reaches over to pet Cyrus’ head. He doesn’t appear to react to the attention, instead staying perfectly still and allowing everything to run its course. “I’ve been having trouble with outside visits lately because of you know what. But he knows just how to make his Mommy happy. Don’t you, One?”

“Yes, Mom,” Cyrus responds obediently. You notice he’s been avoiding looking at you.

“Tell Yosuke how much you like fucking me,” Mom sweetly requests. Cyrus sighs lightly, but doesn’t hesitate.

“I like it a lot,” He says aloud. He gives a light smile, though you can tell it’s forced.

Mom’s lips curve sweetly into a wide smile, and she touches a finger to Cyrus’ nose. “Good boy.”

“An obedient lapdog,” Yosuke observes with a smirk, rubbing his chin all the while. “I see.”

Cyrus merely glances at him with slightly lowered brows as his smile fades, but he remains unexpressive otherwise and does not bother to respond to him. Yosuke then turns himself toward you and makes his way over. Again, he grips your chin between his finger and thumb, and leans in to kiss you as he intended to before. He ends up lingering on your lips for a little while. Your cheeks grow red with embarrassment at being watched by Mom and Cyrus, but Yosuke doesn’t let you get away from him until he’s finished. When he pulls away, he chuckles.

“Have a good day, my pet,” he coos, petting your head gently. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He turns away from you then and looks at Mom, who has now brought her hand to her face and started to bite the side of her curled index finger as if turned on by the display.

“Yosuke, don’t go teasing me like that!” She breathes. “Honestly.”

“Don’t start with me,” Your doctor bluntly responds to her, his expression now slightly glowering and his voice firm. “I’m off.”

He gives Mom no time to respond, nor does the woman seem displeased to see him go despite his blatant rudeness. She merely stands there a moment as he brushes past her and leaves you at her mercy. You’re hoping she won’t touch you when she knows that she’ll get in trouble for it, and likely would struggle to anyway with her hands still stitched up and painful to use. Regardless, the blonde doctor looks at you with her green eyes, dropping her hands and smiling at you with her pink lips.

“Ten,” she croons, stepping toward you. “What’s my name?”

This sudden question makes your heart skip a beat, and you stop breathing for just a moment. The woman’s gaze does not once flicker from its fixation on your face as she awaits your answer.

“M-Mom,” you answer her as expected to, though your hands and jaw tremble slightly. “Your name is Mom.”

“That’s right.” Mom smiles sweetly at you, though her sweet voice sounds far more haunting than usual as she says this. She extends a hand and runs its palm along your cheek, scratching at it with her stitches and making you wince. Cyrus merely looks on at you worriedly, but remains motionless where he is to avoid attracting attention or possibly upsetting the woman.

“I suppose I’ll let you in now, little girl” Mom croons, changing the subject and lightening her tone more. She drops her hand and steps back, pointing at the floor by your feet commandingly. “Stand there. I’ll be a moment.”

Despite it being risky to leave you alone, you know that Mom knows you won’t bother to try running. Once she’s entered her office again, you look at Cyrus, your face still blushing after being embarrassed in front of him. You’re sure he feels the same, but he’s holding himself together a little better than you are.

The gate before you finally drags open, grinding loudly as it does so. Once the passage to the hall has been opened, you step inside and listen as the thing promptly shuts behind you. Both you and Cyrus glance at each other briefly, but know not to linger in the hall. Instead, Cyrus points his head nudgingly toward the rec room, and you silently nod in response to acknowledge him. He goes first, while you trail behind. When you turn your head to look back at the gate, you notice Milos rounding the corner, apparently having finally decided to come by now that everyone’s dispersed. You hear him call out to Mom with his jovial “Mamulya!”, greeting the woman who has just popped out of the office herself. She glances over at you with a sweet smile still plastered on her face, but remains fixated on Milos otherwise. You shudder slightly at the sight of them together again, but are at least glad the woman didn’t bother to tease you about Cyrus or your doctor. With the ordeal now left behind, your attention turns back to the young man in front of you, and both of you watch as the rec room doors slide open.

In the room, you see a few bodies, but not very many. Nowhere near the same amount as last time you were here with everyone. There are only three people this time, all huddled together near the leftmost couch and chatting with one another. There, both twins are sitting on the floor in front of and facing it, with Two crossing his legs and Three sitting on her folded knees. The only one on the couch before them is Five. Seeing her makes your heart jump slightly. While you know this is because of everything you’ve learned about her relationship with Six, it’s also in part because of your association of her with Milos, after just having seen him again. Still, you’re glad to see the group again. Even with the discomforting exchanges that took place in the hall, you’re just relieved to be here now. Despite the brief spark of unease, you’re able to settle yourself again and remind yourself you’re safe now. You lightly smile when everyone glances over toward the rec room doors and sees you and Cyrus standing there.

Both the twins’ eyes grow wide, while Five looks on at you while blinking as if to try confirming that what she’s seeing is real. When she gathers herself again, she gives you a gentle, wide smile. Before she can do or say anything else, it’s the twins who energetically spring up. Two struggles slightly with his wrist still in a cast, but Three wastes no time in jumping to her feet and running toward you. She tackles you just slightly, though her skinny and light frame is hardly weighty enough to knock you over. Three gives a few happy giggles and hugs you tightly, nearly jumping off the ground to wrap her harms around your neck.

“I’m so relieved!” She exclaims joyfully. “I’m so happy you’re safe!”

“Yeah, we were super worried,” Two laughs lightly, “I can’t exactly hug you or anything, but believe me when I say I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Maybe you can’t hug her, but I can,” Five chuckles. She stands up and extends her arms outward, motioning for you to come forward. “Come here, hon.”

When Three finally lets you go, you follow Five’s gesture and come toward her, letting her embrace you sweetly. She’s even warmer than you expected. Perhaps even moreso than the people you’ve embraced before.

“You had us scared, Ten,” She almost laughs, though you can hear genuine relief in her voice. “I’m happy you’re here. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“What happened to you?” Two’s question makes you freeze slightly. You can’t tell them everything now, nor do you really want to at the moment after finally settling down just a little bit. You wish you could be open with them too. But maybe it’s better they not fuss about it now.

Cyrus glances at you with a worried expression, but you don’t let him answer for you. Instead, you find a way to explain on your own. Rather than hide things, you want to make it known that you shouldn’t talk about it. You pull slowly away from Five’s embrace and opt to speak.

“I…was picked up,” you tell them. “I saw something I shouldn’t have and was kept for a while until they could be sure I wouldn’t speak about it. I went through a lot, but…I’m okay. Really.”

“So…it’s not that you don’t want to talk. You just can’t?” Five questions with a concerned expression. You nod at her, and she assesses you briefly before sighing.

“We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” she says simply. “So if you can’t explain it, that’s okay. Have you at least talked to someone about it? I’d hate for you to hold things in.”

You look at her a moment before really responding, but lie anyway. “No, I haven’t.”

The peachy young woman looks back at you, then glances just briefly over to Cyrus before giving a knowing smile. She seems to already have gathered you two discussed what happened. You’re glad you don’t have to explain yourself.

“The important thing is that you’re here,” Three chimes in with a smile while reaching over to grab your hand. A girl like her has many secrets of her own. It’s hardly surprising she doesn’t bat an eye to your own secrecy. “I’m sure the others will be happy to see you too.”

You flash her a light smile, but then glance over at Five and ask her,

“Where’s Six?”

“Still with her doctor, I think,” Five answers with a light brush of some stray hair away from her face. “I haven’t seen her today. My doctor dropped me off first thing this morning, so I’ve been here a while.”

This answer makes you uneasy, knowing what you do now about the relationship between Gale and their Number. You’re not sure why it does, though. Gale seems to have taken good enough care of Six beyond watching her intently and possibly even tricking her into being open with them. Perhaps your own experience with the doctor has put you off entirely. Yosuke had said Gale was trying to be nice with you. Even the journal was said to be a genuine gesture of kindness. You’re not entirely sure that’s the truth, but…

“The others are out too,” Two adds, interrupting your thoughts and assuming you were merely going to ask about the others anyway. “Other than maybe Eight, but I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone right now and is doing his dumb little music isolation thing.”

“He does love that violin,” You joke lightly. It’s admittedly a little bit easier to try acting this way around everyone now that you’ve gotten out so much of your grief. “How’d your talk with him go, anyway?”

Two laughs loudly. “Eight’s not as bad as I thought, but he’s still a stick-in-the-mud who doesn’t like to acknowledge his humanity.”

He leans in slightly.

“Between us, he kept trying to vouch for Violet in his own way. And then he tried to tell Cyrus that everything would be fine, but he couldn’t just give a ‘there, there’. He went and started bringing in something about the nature of human emotion and yadda, yadda. That guy really doesn’t know how to talk to people normally.”

“If I’m being honest, he did most of the talking,” Cyrus lightly chuckles, his earlier tenseness now dissipating. “I didn’t want to say anything about it, but he brought Two for support and didn’t even really let him talk much. You’d know since you two have talked a few times, but Eight really does have the capacity to care. If in his own way.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Five giggles, putting a hand lightly to her mouth. “He’s not as bad a guy as he seems. I’ll give you a full report on our music lesson with him whenever it happens.”

This makes you smile. You’re glad that everyone’s slowly starting to get accustomed to Eight. However, you start to wonder about the others. You’re sure you have more quick reunions to get through.

“What about everyone else?” You ask. “Are they here?”

“Haven’t really seen anyone else around,” Two shrugs. “Blue and Lav are out too. But, uh…”

Cyrus shifts his eyes away slightly.

“Violet’s here,” he says bluntly, his voice low. “But I don’t think she wants to talk to me or anyone else yet. I saw her in the hall earlier, before you came. I was going to the gardens for a bit to clear my head, but I happened to catch her. She immediately went to the pool and avoided eye contact with me. I think she’s mad.”

“Mad?” You question him. “I assumed she’d still be torn up about what happened, but not angry. Not at you, anyway.”

“Either way, I don’t think she wants to see me,” Cyrus lightly sighs. “And I don’t want to pry or force anything since I’m the one who hurt her to begin with. Being too forward now with how sensitive she is might do more harm than good. She’s not like Eight where imposing can get him to wear down. Sometimes being pushy can make her push back. It always depends.”

“I’m sure she would still care about you even after what happened,” Five chimes in, frowning slightly. “I doubt she’s entirely mad. But you’d be right to think she’s upset in general.”

Cyrus opens his mouth to respond, but the intercom chimes in before he can say anything.

“Two to the gate, please,” Mom’s voice calls out. She sounds slightly chipper all things considered. This call causes the twins to freeze just slightly, but moreso Three than her brother. The girl with the red gown merely retracts back to him and holds his free hand.

“I’ll go with you,” she says, gathering herself again. However, you reach an arm out and stop them before they can walk away.

“Don’t,” you warn them. “Milos is there.”

Three looks at you with a tinge of fear in her eyes, but Two manages to keep composed and merely squeezes his sister’s hand and turns his head toward her.

“It’ll be fine,” he assures her, his voice soft. “He’s probably just going to give me a look-over. But maybe you should stay for now. I’ll be back later, ‘kay?”

“O-okay,” Three begrudgingly accepts this and looks down, blushing. “Be safe.”

“Can do,” her brother gives a smile. He waves to everyone in the room before walking out. The doors close almost as quickly as they opened once Two is gone, and soon he’s completely hidden from your sight.

“You alright, hon?” Five asks Three, moving toward her and putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. The separated twin gives a light nod.

“He can handle himself,” she tries to assure both herself and her companion. “A-Anyway…”

“If you want, we can go hang around in the crafts room and make stuff together,” Five continues to try reassuring and comforting the girl. “Maybe do some drawings or something. You wanna do that?”

“Y-yeah, I’d love to,” Three tries to regain her cheery self and gives a light smile. “Once he’s gone, I mean.”

“He is just going in to be checked,” you try to reassure her. “In the hall, I overheard some of the doctors talking. He mentioned just needing to check up on him. So he’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

With both you and Five consoling her, Three is able to regain her usual chipper mood and is distracted enough to let go of her worries for the moment. After a brief moment of waiting, both her and Five get ready to make their way to the crafts room.

“You’re welcome to join if you like,” Five invites the both of you.

“Maybe later,” Cyrus politely declines. “I’d like to get some meditation done before it starts getting noisier around here with more people showing. But I’ll see you after.”

“I might pass too,” You add. “Just for now.”

“Don’t be strangers, alright?” Is Five’s cheeky response. She gives the both of you a wink before taking Three’s hand and guiding her out of the room. Once you and Cyrus are alone, he wanders mindlessly over to the game tables on one side of the room.

“Thanks for warning Three,” he speaks up with gratitude. “She’s not really partial to Milos any more than the others.”

“Why is she afraid of him? Does he see her?” You step in the same direction as Cyrus and lean your hand on the edge of the pool table that Cyrus and Violet had been by. Your companion, on the other hand, mindlessly twiddles a purple ball marked with the number four, rolling it back and forth using his index finger.

“Nobody needs a reason to be afraid of that man. Milos has always been scary,” he answers truthfully. “Besides, she’s fragile enough for him to seriously hurt her. From what Two's told me, the guy's only ever seen her a handful of times, but he doesn’t see her very much because of that fragility. I don’t think her doctor wants Milos visiting her much anyway. But Three’s aware of what Milos can do. She’s seen him hurt people. Or at least, she’s seen the aftermath. As it is, Mom’s too much for her. Milos is even worse.”

“Even worse than Lilah?”

“I find they’re on par, but she can be,” Cyrus sighs. “But she doesn’t visit Three. Still, she’s a real bitch. She’s mean. She seems like she wouldn’t do much damage, but she can. If you play your cards right, you can get through her encounters with the least amount of damage possible.”

You think back to the conversation in the hall, and how Milos interacted with Lilah. Mindlessly, you cup your own cheek and rub it a little, recalling Milos touching the woman this way.

“Are they close?” You ask Cyrus. He’s been looking down at the white felt on the table for a while, but he finally looks up at you now with a raised brow.

“Milos and Lilah?” He questions. “I don’t know, really. A lot of the doctors seem to know each other to an extent. I just don’t know how long they have. I don’t really see them together much, but I’ve never noticed her being friendly with him. Did you see them?”

“In the hall,” you confirm. “They’re who I saw. They were chatting, and then Yosuke got in on the conversation. He didn’t really seem to like them making fun of me. He even tried to get me out of there, which I found weird.”

“I guess he doesn't like them,” Cyrus supposes. “I don’t think he likes me either.”

“He said he didn’t care about you,” you admit, now clutching your arms. “But seeing him touch you like that…It worried me.”

“I don’t know him well enough to know how to act around him. But that was really weird for me. Does he do that sort of thing with you regularly?”

“Kind of.” You frown. “He’s perverted and creepy all in one. He touches me like that all the time.”

“And what was that all about with Mom?” Cyrus seems to sense your discomfort and moves on quickly.

This question makes you freeze up slightly, but you immediately shake back to your normal self and sigh.

“I know her name,” you say. “Her full name. Vanessa Weiss. She knows that I know it. She was just trying to make sure I ‘know my place’, probably. For as angry as some doctors make me, she’s one I wouldn’t really fuck with that way. I’d never say her name to her face.”

“Probably a good idea,” Cyrus furrows his brows. “But she never looked like a ‘Vanessa’ to me. Then again, I’m not sure what I expected.”

You don’t respond to this statement, and so a silence falls between you for a little while. Cyrus ends up leaning on the pool table slightly, placing his elbows on the felt and picking up the purple ball he was fiddling with. He examines the glossy thing in his hand and lightly sighs, but doesn’t speak. You shift your eyes over to the young man and examine him as he seems to lose himself in his thoughts.

“You should talk to her,” you finally break the silence, able to guess what the young man is thinking without having to ask. “I’m sure she wants to make things better too.”

“I don’t know…” Cyrus shakes his head and closes his eyes. He starts to clutch the ball in his hand. “I don’t think she’s in a good place right now.”

“Which is exactly why she needs you,” you retort, dropping your hands back to your sides. “Cyrus, first you won’t talk to her about your issues, now you won’t help her through hers?”

You then start to laugh lightly, taking the dark-haired young man aback. He opens his eyes and looks at you with his mouth slightly agape, but says nothing. Rather one of his brows raise as if questioning you silently.

“Are you afraid of talking to women?” You tease him.

“No,” Cyrus pouts, evidently embarrassed by the playful accusation. “I talk to people all the time. I’m talking to you. I talked to Nine.”

“Yeah, you mentioned yesterday.”

Cyrus examines your profile with a concerned look on his face.

“You’re not…weirded out by that, are you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m glad you two are getting close,” you admit with a light smile. “I’m glad everyone’s been getting close. Things were so different when I first came.”

“Not everyone’s close,” Cyrus sighs. “But Violet’s always been stubborn. Hell, I never thought Eight would open up before she did.”

He drops the purple four-ball back on the table and stands back up, folding his arms.

“What happened back then, anyway?” You question him. “How was she like? How did you two even get close?”

“I just did what I usually do,” Cyrus shrugs, looking down at the floor. “I tried to be a peacemaker, tried to approach her and be open. For some reason I resonated with her, but she refused everyone else. She did kind of resist at first, but she accepted me pretty quickly. After that, she just sort of stuck to me all the time. I let her because I thought it’d keep her afloat.”

He sighs again.

“I guess it did, but maybe it was stupid to do that for her. I didn’t think she’d fall this hard. She got too attached. I was just oblivious to an extent. Or maybe I just wanted to be to avoid hurting her.”

“If you don’t make peace with her soon, you will hurt her,” You advise him. “But…if you’re really that worried about it, I could go check on her myself. Maybe I can figure out how mad she might be. Give you some insight.”

“I can’t ask you to do that for me.” Cyrus shakes his head. “Ten, you’re not responsible for her. I am. I’m just…hesitating, that’s all.”

“I want to help,” you insist. “I feel bad for her, Cyrus. I want her to smile again. I’ve seen her when she’s happy, even if just a little. I want her to be happy like that all the time. I want her to be a part of the rest of us and to feel like she’s welcomed and loved. And…”

You put a hand on the back of your neck.

“I don’t know. For as mad as I am about her attitude toward me, I do sympathize with her a little, and I do want us to be on good terms. Maybe if she makes peace with me and we settle our differences, she’ll be inclined to seek you out herself and won’t be afraid to talk to you. And if you see her doing a little better, maybe you won’t be afraid of approaching her either.”

“I don’t want to say ‘yes’ and make you shoulder a responsibility that’s supposed to be mine,” Cyrus shakes his head.

“It’s not your responsibility,” You refute his statement. “It’s both of yours. Maybe even partly mine because of how much I insisted you talk to her. Just let me try, okay? The worst that can happen is that she just gets snappy with me. Besides, maybe doing this will help get my mind off of things. Today already hasn’t exactly been pleasant, and it’s just started.”

Cyrus looks at you a moment as if unsure of what to say. Or, perhaps he’s debating with himself. Despite a brief moment of silence, he finally sighs and tells you “okay”.

“After what I’ve been through, handling her won’t be too hard,” you half-joke. “Look, I promise I’ll do what I can. And I’ll let you know what happens. Alright?”

You want to add more, but you end up letting out a loud yawn that suddenly creeps up on you.

“Tired?” Cyrus teases with a gentle laugh.

“Kind of,” you exhale, wiping away some tears that came to your eyes reflexively from your yawn. “I didn’t really sleep last night. And then Micah kind of ran me ragged.”

“…Violet’s doctor?” Cyrus raises a brow. “I’ve heard he’s an asshole. I’ve only seen him around a handful of times, but he doesn’t really visit me.”

“He is an asshole.” You scowl, then pull away a part of your gown to show Cyrus your cut shoulder. “He did this to me. He did the same to my chest before, too. He’s one of the few doctors I find it easy to be openly mad at, even if this is the consequence. People like Mom, Milos, or Lilah are those who I can’t do that with. They scare me too much. Even Micah seems to hold back a little.”

Your royal blue companion winces slightly and sucks in some air through his teeth.

“Yikes,” he remarks as he eyes the red, closed-up wound. “That looks bad. I’ve known him to do the same to her. I’ve…seen his work.”

“I can’t imagine how bad he is with Violet,” you mutter, letting go of the neck of your rose gown. “She said that even she sometimes lashes out at him, and he really doesn’t like it. Speaking of which, maybe I ought to go now.”

Cyrus puts his hand on your uncut shoulder and looks at you with his aqua eyes.

“Ten, you don’t have to do this for me.”

You smile lightly at him to try giving off an air of reassurance.

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Besides, you need to meditate anyway. It’s better that I go.”

Seeing that you’re not going to budge, Cyrus gives a light sigh.

“Just make sure to take care of yourself at some point too,” he tells you. The young man then smiles back at you and drops his hand. “Good luck. I’ll see you around.”

With this, you leave Cyrus to his practice and exit the rec room. The hall is empty now, and you’re none too eager to linger in it longer than you have to. Shuffling forward, you make your way to the room marked POOL and stop before the doors. Your heart beats slightly faster for reasons you’re not sure. You have plenty you’re afraid of. Plenty to be afraid of. A talk with someone like Violet is nothing compared to what you’ve endured, right?

Heaving a heavy sigh, you try to compose yourself fully before entering the area. After a brief pause, you step forward and let the doors slide open. The moment you step into the large room, your eyes are assaulted by its bright light and take a minute to readjust from being in the hall. Once they have, you notice Violet in the pool as expected. However, she’s face-down in the water, floating there with her limbs dipping into the clear liquid and freely bobbing about. Seeing this makes you loudly gasp, but rather than stand there frozen, you try to jump into the pool and help her.

Without any hesitation, you let your body crash into the water and swim toward the motionless Violet. You quickly head her way and grab the girl by the shoulders to pull her toward the edge of the pool, but the moment you do, Violet perks her head up. Her eyes had been closed, but she opens them wide as she catches sight of you. Even knowing that she’s okay, you still drag the girl toward one of the ends of the pool and shove her against the stairs leading out of it.

“Ow!” She cries out angrily at being practically thrown. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

This question angers you.

“What am I doing?” You bark at her. “Violet, what the fuck are you doing?! I thought you were drowning or something!”

“Well I’m not!” The stubborn girl scowls at you. “I didn’t need you to rescue me!”

“Then what the hell were you-” You hesitate suddenly when you finally notice that Violet is completely naked. In your panic and subsequent anger, you hadn’t even given it a second thought. You end up looking away in embarrassment, avoiding direct eye contact with the girl. Seeing your reaction only causes Violet to shamefully cover herself up with her arms and pout.

“I thought it might make me more confident,” She explains sheepishly. “Anyway, I wasn’t going to try to kill myself or something. I just…I dunno, I wanted to see how it felt to be motionless like that. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not at risk of doing something like it,” you point out firmly. “You’re avoiding everyone, you’re sad, you’re angry. I have every reason to be worried.”

“You think I’d kill myself by drowning?!” Violet spits out, clenching her fists. “You can’t just force yourself to drown willfully. It’s harder than you’d think. And don’t go asking me how I know. I just do. Anyway, I don’t need you worrying over me. I don’t need you around at all. So leave me alone!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you stand your ground. Violet pouts and blushes.

“Well can you at least go get me a fucking towel or something if you’re gonna be hovering? I wasn’t expecting anyone to follow me in here. I don’t like being like this in front of people.”

Sighing, you oblige the girl’s request and head to the showers. While you’re there, you move over to Violet’s designated area on the shelves and pluck both her glasses and a fresh towel from it that she’s laid out under her clothes. You’re angry that she’s still being stubborn with you, but you want adamantly to do your part to repair your relationship so that she can make up with Cyrus too.

After fetching these items, you return to the naked Violet, who has reseated herself on the topmost stair to avoid being in the water. She has not budged an inch since you left otherwise.

Violet snatches the towel from you when you hand it to her, eager to hide her nudity away. She mostly lets the thing drape over her shoulders and fall all over her body, and this seems to be enough to calm her down even a little. Once she’s covered, you hand Violet her glasses, which she takes a little less aggressively. She slides the things on her face and looks down, folding her arms while grabbing either end of the towel around her shoulders in order to close the thing over herself better. Silently, you rejoin her, sitting by her side and letting your feet touch the water a few steps beneath you.

“Thanks,” Violet grumbles. “I guess. But I’m still mad at you.”

“Why?” You question her. “For trying to make sure you’re okay?”

Violet refuses to look at you, instead keeping her eyes glued to the water before her. “No. You know why. Don’t make me say it.”

“I told you, he and I are just friends,” you try to assure her, though you remain firm. “Violet, I wasn’t trying to take Cyrus away from you. I don’t act the way I do because I want to gain things from people. I just wanted everyone to get along. I care about all of you. I don’t want us to be trapped in this place hating each other, because that would just make the hell that is being here just that much worse. I wanted us all to be happy together.”

“Except me, because I piss you off, right?” The girl mutters. “All you’re doing by trying to console me is making me feel more like shit than I already do. I know you don’t like me. Nobody really does.”

“That’s not true,” You shake your head and glance at Violet. “Look, I know what Blue said the other day might have hurt you, but I promise she was just speaking out of anger the way you do. When you left the other day, she didn’t even remember saying it. I pointed it out to her, and she’d just completely forgotten.”

“Of course she’d conveniently forget,” Violet’s stubbornness refuses to budge. “And if I say ‘well, she still said it and it hurt’, you’ll self-righteously tell me that’s how everyone feels about me and what I say to them, right?”

You sigh, but hold steadfast to your desire to help the girl.

“They’re all just worried about you. Every time we talk about you, it’s because we’re worried about what will happen with you. We don’t want you to be this way. We want you join us and be happy. We don’t like seeing other Numbers suffer.”

“I just don’t feel like I have a place here,” Violet admits, mumbling. “I don’t really belong with the others. They get along better with each other than with me. Every time I’m there, I’m just in the background unless Cyrus is with me. And even then, I hardly have much to say.”

“Eight’s in the background a lot too and he doesn’t much see a problem with it.”

Violet scoffs.

“Yeah, well I’m not Eight. We’re nothing alike. I guess he would get why I push people away, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel the way I do. He’s an emotionless prick and he’s happy with that.”

“Don’t look down on him that way,” you frown, putting your hands in your lap and fiddling with your sopping gown. You’re admittedly starting to feel cold now that you’re out of the water. “You’ve not really been paying attention, but even for as stubborn as he’s been, he’s been slowly getting to know us better. And it’s not like you’re not a thing alike. He’s as resilient as you are, and everyone always seemed to speak about how rude he could be the way they spoke about how stubborn you could be. But they let him in anyway. I’m sure they could do the same with you. You’re a flawed person, but so is everyone. You’re not a lost cause, Violet. You could still be part of this.”

“It’s not that easy,” Violet sighs, lowering her head into her folded arms and bunching her knees up at her chest. “I see things in people nobody else does because I’m always alone. I notice every little tick, every little gesture that they make. I can tell quickly when people are mad at me or uncomfortable around me. But that just makes me angry. I want to be cared about, but I also can’t stand knowing that I’m not liked even a little. I don’t like the feeling it gives me.”

“You have a bit of low self-esteem, that’s all,” you point out. “Of course not everyone’s going to like you all the time. I get upset with some of the Numbers sometimes for things they say, but I’m still friends with them. And I’m sure that a lot of people struggle with their self-worth too. People like Nine or Blue are always so confident about who they are. But not everyone is, and that’s okay.”

You glance over at Violet, and seeing her still somewhat naked clicks for you.

“You were trying to be more like Nine, weren’t you?”

“I guess,” Violet admits with a mutter. “I want to feel good. I thought maybe doing what she does would help.”

You half-laugh. “But you still can’t do it like she can. Violet, you don’t have to copy other people entirely to make yourself feel better. You have to find something that works best for you. Or even alter other methods to fit with what you’re comfortable with. I don’t blame you for trying it, and maybe she’ll appreciate knowing that you did if you ever tell her. But...”

You sigh.

“Who am I kidding, I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. But I still want to try. And I’d really like you to try too. I don’t think you can ever completely get rid of negative thoughts, and it’s not exactly healthy to just shove them away. You just have to find a balance for that kind of thing. When you feel down, find something that might help you out of it in the moment so that you can think more clearly about what it is you need and want. You just have to focus on yourself without overdoing it. And, you have to be more open about your feelings too rather than hiding behind a veil of stubbornness.”

“You sound like Cyrus,” Violet slowly picks her head up, though her eyelids drop slightly as she adopts a far softer, more sullen expression. “I’m assuming you’ve been talking to him a lot since I stopped seeing him?”

Hearing this question only hurts your heart, but you don’t want to lie to Violet either.

“Yeah,” you answer. “But only yesterday and today. I was gone for a few days.”

“What?” She finally glances over at you. “I didn’t even notice since I’ve been avoiding everyone. I remember hearing a loud noise the day Cyrus talked to me, but…I was so frustrated I didn’t even think hard about it. What happened?”

“I can’t say,” you tell her honestly, glowering as you recall everything briefly. You have to stay diligent in being the more responsible figure in this moment, so you try not to react too much to it all. Violet could never understand what you went through, but you’d be stupid to say her problems don’t matter.

“It was a difficult time for me though,” you go on. “A lot happened in those few days. I’ve been feeling down myself. Confused, tired, angry. But the whole time I was away, you kept popping up in my mind, Violet. I was really worried about you. I was sad for you. I wanted you to be okay. I saw how hurt you were when Cyrus said what he said, and it hurt me to see you that way. Even after all the things you said about me, I still cared.”

Violet looks at you a moment with her eyes slightly widened. Her lips are slightly parted as if she wants to respond to this statement. She almost looks ready to melt at your kind words, however she holds steadfast to her bitterness and scowls again. You can’t say you’re not disappointed, but you figured it wouldn’t be so easy to reach her.

“You don’t need to be so worried about someone like me.” She grumbles and looks away again. “I’m awful.”

“You can be a bit much, but you’re not awful,” you try to reassure her. “All you have to do is be more careful with how you talk to people and remember that they might get hurt the same way you do. Just be mindful.”

“I am awful,” Violet insists. She hesitates a moment, trying to keep herself composed. However, her scowl softens then. Despite her best attempts to hide it, the expression on the girl’s face instead morphs into one brimming with sorrow. Violet’s lips tremble lightly, and her eyebrows turn upward as she tries her best not to start crying. You’re not sure why she’s reacting this way, but remain patient and let her do what she has to. When Violet speaks up again, her voice almost shakes. She grips the towel around her body more fiercely now as she continues to talk.

“All I do is get so anxious that I get angry and push people away. I know how defensive I can be. I know I’m stubborn. I don’t believe anyone when they say they care about me because I have it in my head that they don’t and never will. I’m selfish. I’m mean. I can’t help it, and I can’t stop being who I am. Because of that, nobody wants me around. And…”

She shuts her eyes.

“You don’t know what the fuck I’ve thought about. You don’t know how awful I really am.”

“What are you talking about?” You look at her with worry.

“Ten, I know Cyrus likes you,” the young woman shoots out. “I know because I can see how he acts around you. I know because I always focus on things people do that hurt me. I can tell what others can’t. I can see when you get sad or angry before you even make it clear that you are. When you’re as anxious as I am, as pathetically desperate and sad as I am, you notice these things. I had to watch Cyrus slowly attach himself to you. Even when he was by my side, he started to feel distant from me. He changed. I don’t know when he started to care so much about you, but he did. It tore me up so much. You could never understand just what it felt like.”

“He just cares about me like everyone else, Violet,” You try to reassure her. However, she opens her eyes to look at you and scowls again. Despite her attempt at resonating visually with anger, she comes across as desperate to maintain a specific appearance. Almost like Eight, you find, only he’s far better at it than she.

“No. You don’t see it because you don’t see the way I do,” she spits out. “I know how it is because I’ve seen this happen before.”

You widen your eyes slightly as you realize what she’s talking about.

“He loved Jade,” Violet continues, looking away again and down at the water of the pool. She continues to glower, though her voice now sounds less angry and more on the weary side. “He never had to tell me. He never had to say it. I could see that he did. She was already getting sadder and more distant by the time I came, but I remember her smiling a little bit. I didn’t think anything of it at first. We hardly really even talked, and I focused on myself for a while before I even got to know anyone else more openly.

“Cyrus hung around me a lot to try helping me out. He made me feel like a person where others failed to. Maybe I was just being stubborn, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept kindness from anyone in the state I was in then. He was different, and he affected me the way nobody else did. From the very beginning, I really liked him. I always thought he was good looking and sweet, but it wasn’t just that. He made me feel special. He was patient with me the way nobody else really was. He took care of me.”

Violet clenches her fists.

“But the more Jade fell, the more Cyrus tried to save her. He clung to her so often in his attempt to save her that he left me alone to go deal with her. She was more of a priority at some point, and I was just left in the dust. I didn’t want to look like an asshole by telling him to stay, so I let him. But I knew he loved her. I could see it in his eyes.”

Violet brings a hand to her forehead and rests the top of her head in her palm, planting an elbow on her knee.

“Ten, when she disappeared, a part of me was almost glad,” She breaks down finally. “I was so fucking selfish to think it. I knew it was wrong, but it crossed my mind anyway. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll finally have a chance with him’. I didn’t even think to cry about Jade once. I never bothered to think about how she might have been feeling because I was so focused on myself and my own problems. I’m so fucking awful.”

She furiously yanks her glasses off with her other hand, resting the folded frames in her lap as she tries to wipe away incessant tears that have started to fall.

“I knew it was wrong to think that way,” she blubbers. “But I still thought it anyway. And if I’d known you disappeared too…maybe that thought would have popped up again, even if I didn’t want it to. I knew you were trying to be nice to me. I was grateful for it. But I was simultaneously so mad at you that it didn’t even matter. You were just another Jade in my eyes. I didn’t want to go through this again, so I fought even harder against it. I just didn’t want to lose.”

You look on at the sobbing Violet with wide eyes. Your heart drops hearing all of this now. You don’t know how it makes you feel. Shocked, if anything. You’d always thought Violet was just a bitter person toward you out of jealousy, but you never expected it to be this bad. You don’t want to outright be angry at her for it, but you know that her motivation hardly excuses possibly benefitting, or even hoping to benefit off of someone’s disappearance. Still, you try to maintain composed. You don’t want to rile her up by being unnecessarily harsh, so you try to be understanding.

“…It’s…okay,” you tell her quietly reaching over to touch the girl’s shoulder. “Violet…I don’t blame you for that. You got attached and it messed with you. But…”

You sigh. Undoubtedly this attitude, this thought of hers was wrong to have, but you can’t say she isn’t trying to change. You can see her now, crying her eyes out for no other reason than remorse. She’s not begging for attention or selfishly trying to manipulate your emotions. You can tell she’s being genuine.

“…You realized it was wrong,” you continue after realizing you’ve paused for too long, trying to assure the sobbing Violet. “You’re aware of the fact that things like that are wrong. So, that must mean you’re doing something right. You still have the capacity to care and be kind. I won’t lie and say a thought like that isn’t phenomenally selfish, but…you know it wasn’t a good thought to have. So I can believe that you’re not an awful person. That you can change.”

“You wouldn’t say that about the doctors,” Violet points out between her shaking sobs. “You’d never forgive them for the things they do, would you? So why forgive this? Why say some people can change while refusing to believe the same about others?”

You lower your eyes slightly and wince at this criticism. It’s admittedly a difficult thing to answer. Of course you’d never forgive the doctors for anything they’ve done to you. How could you? But they’ve long since fallen past being forgivable. She hasn’t.

“Well...what you do isn’t entirely comparable to what they do,” You try to answer her. “You just had a dark thought. Everyone has them. We think about death, about killing, about all sorts of dark things. But you didn’t act out on the thing you thought. You didn’t cause Jade to disappear, you just thought you could benefit off of her disappearing. It’s still dirty, but think about it this way: All you do is get after people. You don’t actively try to hurt them otherwise. You’d never actively try to sabotage someone who made you mad, right?”

“No,” Violet tells you, sniffling and trying to recompose herself. “I’m a piece of shit, but I’m not that cruel.”

“Don’t put yourself down so much, Violet,” you frown. “Besides, knowing that you wouldn’t act out means you still have a conscience, then.”

At least you seem to have a direction now. You wonder if your words are doing any good.

“You’re still capable of saying ‘no, I don’t want to do this, and I don’t want to be like this’. You can still be redeemable,” you go on. “The doctors…not so much. They continue to toy with us for their amusement despite knowing, despite being absolutely aware that what they’re doing is wrong. They know this is evil, but they let it happen anyway. They’re unapologetic. That’s hardly redeemable. So, don’t you dare compare yourself to them.”

“You can’t just tell me you forgive all the other stuff, though,” Violet’s voice continues to shake despite her finally controlling her sobs. “I was still a bitch to you. Even now, you still hurt me, and I still feel angry.”

“You just have to let go.” Is this good advice? You’re not sure. You weren’t very certain about dealing with Three, and this is definitely no easier. The concept of “letting go” doesn’t really make you feel any better either. Gale had said the same thing to you during your last visit with them. Their treatment of you hurt, but you don’t want to think that your use of these words is comparable to theirs.

“By ‘let go’, I don’t mean push all of it aside,” you elaborate, mainly to assuage yourself. “But you have to be willing to move on from your hurt to learn to get better. You have to accept that what you did and thought was wrong before you can work toward changing. You have to confront those that you hurt to make amends for your actions. I can’t tell you how to feel, but…I can tell you that it’s not healthy to feel the way you do and act the way you do all the time. I can understand why you feel that way. But it doesn’t excuse your behavior. And don’t think that means I hate you. A criticism isn’t the same as hatred. Eight criticizes me all the fucking time and we’re still on somewhat okay terms, even if he won’t admit it. I just had to learn to understand how he does things. He had to learn the same of me. Or he’s trying to, anyway.”

You look at Violet, who glances back at you with her wet, dark eyes.

“I want to understand you too,” you continue when she doesn’t respond. “I want you to be okay. And even when you hurt me, I still want what’s best for you because I do care about you. I want you to care about me too.”

Violet finally drops her eyes and exhales.

“I still love Cyrus,” she admits. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop. At least, not for a while. I tried so hard to stay by his side, to be there for him. Maybe I was just being pushy.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on taking care of him before?” You question

“Yeah…” Violet mumbles. “I’m always afraid that he won’t wake up, you know. I don’t want to be left alone. I need him. I don’t like knowing that he doesn’t feel the same.”

Violet then clutches a hand to her chest tightly.

“It feels like genuine physical pain, the way I’m suffering without him,” she continues. “My body has been aching, my chest tight. I want to see him again, but I can’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. I can’t face him or anyone else after what happened. I’m a selfish person. I’m shitty. I silently hoped my taking care of him would make up for all the awful things I did and thought. But I know that’s not enough. I don’t deserve to be with anyone. The other Numbers are good people. I’m not.”

She furrows her brows.

“So hate me if you want. Tell him what I told you so he can hate me too, because when he finds out I disrespected Jade so badly, he’ll turn on me. I just don’t care anymore. Or I just don’t want to. I don’t deserve anything.”

“I didn’t say I hate you,” you remain firm despite her wild assumptions. You don’t blame her for being this way when she’s already shown she’s stubborn in her negative thoughts. Without hesitating, you turn your body slightly and bring your hand to Violet’s cheek, guiding her to look at you.

“Violet, you’re important,” you assure her, looking straight into her still-wet eyes. “You matter to all of us. And Cyrus would never hate you, okay? He loves you. And…so do I. But know that sometimes, when you deal with people you love, you also have to deal with their feelings or emotions conflicting with yours. You don’t just give up when you face a few problems. You work through those problems. You work with the people you love. That’s why I’m here. If I didn’t love you, if I didn’t respect you, I’d have never bothered to see how you were doing, and never once thought to try mending things with you.”

“If he loves me, then why didn’t he come?” Violet begs to know, a stray tear falling down her other cheek. She doesn’t burst into tears again, though she looks as though she wants to. “Why wasn’t he the one to come save me?”

“He thinks you’re mad at him,” You explain briefly. “But he does care. Before I came to check on you, all he could think about was you. He’s been feeling guilty about hurting your feelings. He keeps saying he wants you to be okay, and that he’s wanted to see you. But he thinks you’re avoiding him. He’s afraid of hurting you more by coming to you now.”

You drop your hand from Violet’s cheek and turn back toward the pool. You end up leaning your hands on the floor behind you, watching the water bob around as you shuffle your feet.

“You can’t just sit there wishing for someone to make your problems go away, Vi,” you continue on since Violet isn’t responding again. She looks down as you talk, but listens nonetheless. “It’s hard to be responsible for yourself, but it’s important that you are. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ever rely on others or be open with them. Like I said earlier, it’s about balance. You just have to find something that works for you. It might take a while to get, but I know you can do it. And there’s no shame in asking for help if you’re struggling. Besides, I’m no good at this stuff myself. We could easily learn from one another in that regard.”

“It’s not just something I can just easily get over,” Violet tells you, somewhat mumbling. “I can’t just let this go. It’s going to hurt for a while. I’m still going to be upset at you for a while too. But…”

She sighs, then looks up at you again.

“I’m sorry for being shitty,” she apologizes finally. “I’m not stupid about how I am. It’s not like I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see my own bullshit, to be made aware of how I can be from others.”

She sighs.

“I know I’m a bitch. I often can’t help myself. I get defensive. I don’t want to be hurt, so I guess I just hurt others before they can hurt me, or often because they hurt me. I don’t want to be left behind, but I push everyone away when I sense an inkling of negativity in their perspective of me. Everything confuses me. Everything’s hard.

“I’ve tried to be better. Cyrus has always tried to help me be. But I’m so goddamn stubborn I just can’t do it. It’s too hard. The only reason I’m even bothering to listen now is because it took him hurting me to realize I fucked up as bad as I did. I always tried to ignore it, but now I have no choice but to listen.”

“It’s not an easy transition,” you assure her again. “And it’s easier for some people than others.”

“You mean people like Four,” Violet sighs. “I don’t get how people like her can move on from things so quickly. I’m a little jealous of it.”

“Well, like I said. It’s kind of different for everyone,” you repeat yourself. “Eight’s still struggling even if he’s showing glimpses of kindness. He still hurts people’s feelings at times, but he has also been learning when to hold his tongue, or when to think about what he’s saying to people. I think a guy like him is so focused on being logical and rational that he often forgets about the emotional aspects of problem solving. And you? You kind of have the opposite problem. You’re emotional. You’re an emotional person, and that’s okay. But you need to be more mindful of others, and think before you speak. Consider how your words might hurt people, and consider the consequences to the things you say and do. Not only how they might affect others, but how they might even impact you.”

“I guess,” the dark-haired girl sighs. You stop kicking your feet and watch as the waves in the pool slowly start to subside, with the surface still flowing and ebbing slightly now. Violet quietly brings a few fingers to her lips and closes her eyes. “I’m never gonna get another kiss from him, am I?”

“Probably not,” you answer honestly, looking at the ceiling. “I think he just wanted to show you his good faith. Show that he still cared and that he sympathized with you. Cyrus really does want the best for you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. He still wants to be around you, it’s just that he wants you to also understand that he can’t -”

“Okay, I get it,” Violet interrupts you, lightly scowling. “I don’t want to relive that day too hard.”

You look away. “Honestly, neither do I. But I have to live with it anyway.”

“I’m assuming it was bad?” Violet glances at you.

“Very.”

Both of you go silent for a moment, listening to the water mindlessly as it pushes against the edges of the pool. It’s Violet who breaks the silence.

“Do you really think I can change?”

“I do,” you nod. “And even if you still hate me, I still want to be there for you. All of us do.”

“I don’t hate you,” Violet murmurs weakly. “I don’t want to, anyway. You’re nice. But I’m still not happy with you either. Like I said, I still need time. When I’m ready, I’ll talk to him again. So If you see him again, tell him to be patient, and tell him that I’m not upset with him. I just...I just need to think.”

“Will you tell him how you feel?”

“Yeah. I will.”

The water remains still as the both of you again fall silent. Violet stares at the clear liquid, thinking on things. You, in turn, continue to look up at the ceiling and breathe steadily. Despite the earlier spat, the both of you bask in silence now. You’re not quite sure how long it lasts, but eventually you almost find yourself falling asleep just sitting there. It’s only the voice of your violet companion that shakes you back to awareness.

“We should get changed,” she tells you, tucking some thick clump of wet hair behind her ear. “It’s not as cold in here, but it’s still not a good idea to stay dripping wet in the air.”

“I guess not.” You smile lightly. “But, don’t you wanna swim some more or something?”

“No. I think I’m done.”

You stand and offer your hand to Violet, but she refuses it and picks herself back up. The both of you then head to the showers and clean off before changing back into fresh clothes. Despite being so bothered by nudity before, you’re able to casually change in front of the girl without issue now, though neither of you really face one another. Only once do you really turn to look at her, but seeing remnants of healed-over scars along her back and upper arms only scares you enough not to turn around to look at her again. When you tried to pull her out of the pool earlier, you hadn’t quite noticed them. Even when you’d swam with her once before, they seemed to escape your focus. It pains you to think of Micah hurting her so much without remorse.

Once the both of you finish, Violet cleans her glasses off with the cloth of her gown and slides the frames over her eyes and nose. She then follows you out of the shower, and the both of you stand at the end of the pool for a moment, watching the still water. Though it remains motionless, there’s still light reflecting on its surface that gleams slightly.

“Why’d you almost fall asleep at the end of that talk, anyway?” Violet questions you, her eyes still affixed to the water. Despite her earlier saddened state, she returns to her snide tone. “I didn’t bore you or something, did I?”

“No,” you promise her. “I’m just super tired. I hardly slept last night, and then I had to deal with your doctor this morning.”

“He didn’t want to see me today,” is the violet girl’s bitter response. “He dropped me off pretty early. Micah’s been a bit bored of me since what happened with Cyrus. He tends to do that when I’m upset, but he’ll eventually want me again when I come around. If I do.”

Violet pouts. “Still, glad to know you stole another man from me too.”

“Violet, come on,” you groan. “I’m not ‘stealing’ anyone away. Besides, you don’t even like Micah.”

“Yeah…I don’t,” your companion sighs heavily. “Just my brain doing its thing again. Don’t think anything of it.”

She glances your way, but still remains pouting

“He cut you again, didn’t he? I couldn’t help but look over in the showers. I saw your shoulder.”

“Why were you looking?” You raise a brow and tease the girl, making her weakly laugh.

“Why were you?,” she calls you out, apparently having been completely aware that you saw all her scars. “Look, I’m sorry he hurt you. He’s an asshole.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you say in agreement. You’re a little relieved she’s acting more casually now, even if she’s still somewhat bitter. You’d at least call it progress.

“Hey Ten?”

Violet’s voice causes you to blink in surprise as you shake back to the conversation. You turn your head toward her and give a “hm?” noise, but she doesn’t bother to look up at you again. She instead remains focused on the water.

“You know…I don’t hate Jade,” Violet tells you honestly, her voice a bit low. “Maybe I did back then, but…she wasn’t really at fault. She suffered like the rest of us do. Maybe I should have at least talked to her. Maybe if I had and took the time to know her, I wouldn’t have been so bitter toward her. I never even got to apologize for thinking what I did. She never got to know me that well in general.”

“I’m sure she would have forgiven you,” you tell her assuredly. “The way everyone’s talked of her, she seems like the kind of person to do so.”

“Like you?”

This takes you aback, and you freeze a moment while not sure how to respond. Since you remain silent, the dark-haired girl moves on.

“I guess it’s good that I got to apologize to someone, at least,” She muses, almost muttering. “Anyway, I know I said I saw you as another 'her', but…you’re not entirely like her like some people seem to think. She was too sweet for her own good. You're sweet too, but, you're a different person. Besides, even you can be a bitch if you wanna be.”

“H-Hey!” You stammer, embarrassed and offended by this declaration. This makes Violet almost laugh, but she tries to regain her bitter tone.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m still mad at you,” she pouts yet again. “But…um…do you forgive me?”

You huff lightly. This conversation hasn’t been pleasant all things considered. Dealing with Violet has been a rocky ride for you, but of course you’d never be mean-spirited on purpose.

“I have every right to be upset with how you treated me,” you tell her bluntly. “But…yes. I forgive you, Violet.”

The girl beside you doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet, as she begins to nervously fiddle with her hands and look down.

“…Do you think Cyrus will forgive me?”

Confused by this, you look at Violet with your mouth slightly agape and with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you plan to tell him what you told me? All of it?”

Violet hesitates a moment, shifting her eyes around as if searching for a good enough answer. However, she has no chance to speak before the doors of the pool open up. From them emerges Blue, whose bright eyes immediately lock onto you and light up.

“Ten!” She cries out happily. The light blonde young woman wastes no time in running toward you, though she almost stumbles over and trips on some water on the floor. Still, she is able to make her way toward you unharmed, and wastes no time in embracing you as Five and Three had.

“Ooh, I’m so glad to see you’re safe!” She gleefully exclaims. “The others said you were back! I just had to see for myself!”

When Blue pulls away, she glances at Violet and freezes slightly, frowning. However, she turns your attention back to you, which causes Violet to fold her arms and scowl. She avoids looking at the both of you and turns her body slightly, not wanting to be seen now.

“Anyway, you should come to the crafts room with us!” Blue goes on, trying to avoid addressing Violet now. “Everyone’s there. Cyrus told me not to come see you now, but I couldn’t help it. He knows I’m a little pushy.”

She cups your hand with hers and tries to drag you away, but you remain with your feet firmly planted on the floor and refuse to budge. Seeing this, Blue looks back at you. When she notices your face still stern as you watch her, she lets your hand go and gives a sigh. You don’t have to say much for her to get what you want from her. Hesitantly, she folds her arms and walks back beside you.

“Um, hey…Violet.” she calls out. This causes the dark-haired girl’s eyes to widen slightly, her expression softening and changing from a scowl to a look of light shock. She picks her head up to glance at Blue, then turns her body to face her.

“You…said my name?” She questions sheepishly, her brows upturned.

“Uh, yeah, kind of,” Blue rolls her eyes around in clear discomfort while twirling the ends of her hair slightly. “I just…you know, we’re worried about you and all. I guess. No big deal.”

“You guess…?”

Blue sighs then, dropping her hesitance and forcing herself to be forward. She drops her hand and puts both on either hip, leaning forward and giving a pouted face.

“Look, you’ve been a real bitch lately,” she says bluntly. “You’ve been out of control and you hurt Ten by shitting on her. I can handle you most times, but enough is enough, okay?”

Violet looks away and lowers her brows, not quite scowling, but not at all pleased by this forwardness. Blue persists, however she drops her rude tone and gives yet another sigh.

“However,” she continues, “we were worried about you. We feel bad. So…you know. Are you doing okay? You’ve been kind of off on your own this whole time. We don’t know what to do and we have no idea how you’ve been doing with how much you've been isolating yourself.”

Violet still refuses to look up, but she speaks nonetheless, slightly grumbling and blushing.

“I’ve been better.”

“God, you’re infuriating! Just look at me already!” Blue huffs, lightly stomping her foot on the ground. Violet continues to look displeased, but she does as told and looks Blue straight in the eyes.

“Look, I don’t hate you. And…I’m sorry if I like, hurt your feelings and stuff. I just get so mad at you sometimes. You’re so stubborn!”

Blue then lightly shrugs and softens her tone.

“But that’s kind of the thing. I am too. You’re a little bit like me, even if you don’t really wanna think that’s the case. Granted, I don’t like dealing with people as stubborn as you, for as stubborn as I am myself. It was annoying enough to deal with Eight.”

She pauses a moment and rolls her eyes around as if hesitating to say what she means to.

“…But he’s not so bad, I guess,” she shrugs. “I still don’t get his whole brooding thing, but he’s at least not being as shitty as he was before. So maybe you can do the same. And maybe I can try not to be so harsh on you in the future. We just gotta keep each other in check, that’s all. ‘Kay?”

Violet says nothing a moment, hesitating to speak up and likely assessing Blue’s words. After a brief silence, she nods subtly.

“Okay…Blue,” Violet mutters, still keeping her eyes down. “I’ll try.”

“Great!” The chipper young blonde chirps, straightening herself back up. She doesn't bat an eye at her preferred name being used, unlike Violet who was utterly taken aback by it. Then again, Blue is the kind of person who moves on quickly, even if she does care.

“Hey, Cyrus said not to be too harsh,” You tell the baby blue girl disapprovingly. You hadn’t expected her to show up and be so straightforward after you took the time to wear Violet down slowly. The chipper Blue skips back and heads toward the doors, then turns playfully around to look at you.

“C'mon, think of it as good cop, bad cop, okay?” She says with a wink. “Make a great team, don’t we? Anyway, you coming?”

You give an exasperated sigh at her snatching up part of the credit for something you did a lot of work on. You then turn to Violet a moment and look at her with a bit of concern. Softly, you ask,

“You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll find out,” Violet shrugs. “Go. Be with your friends. I’ll talk to Cyrus soon.”

You smile slightly and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder again.

“They’re your friends too.”

“For how long, though?” Violet looks up at you with upturned brows. “I have to tell him what I said. I-I’m going to. I just don’t know how it’ll be when I do. I don’t want him to hate me.”

For a moment, you stare at Violet with worry, but you try to keep composed and gentle.

“He won’t,” you promise her. “Just be honest about how you want to be better. But actually make the effort to be better. Not just for me or for him, but for you. Showing us that you’re trying will mean more than you know.”

Violet says nothing, but merely nods and lets you quietly detach from the conversation. Neither of you really say goodbye, but you figure it doesn’t need to be said. You hope direly that your words reached Violet enough for her to be better and to feel a little bit better. At the very least, if you don’t do much for her, Cyrus can. All she needs now is to take the opportunity to approach him.

You head toward where Blue is patiently waiting, but you don’t much get a chance to speak to her before she chimes in herself.

“So, you gonna come hang out with us or what?” She questions. You give another long yawn in response and rub your eye again.

“I want to,” you tell her sincerely, “I really do. But I think I ought to try to catch up on some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, I guess you do look pretty tired,” Blue laughs, then points just under one of her eyes. “You’ve got these bags on you, after all. So fine. Get some sleep, princess. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t call me that,” you grumble, lowering your brows. “Like, ever.”

You’ve got more than enough reservations about the pet name. Blue doesn’t bother to question this, but she gives you a little shrug and a wave before leaving the room. After taking a brief moment to allow her to clear the hall, you exit as well and make your way to the theater.

The area is fairly quiet and peaceful. Lav has the right idea about coming here to rest, you admit. A nice bed seems far more inviting than the rec room couches, no matter how plush they might be. The two really can’t be compared.

It’s admittedly been a while since you were last here, so seeing he burgundy sheets and grey metal wave-like awnings strikes you as alien for a moment, until you’re able to recollect your memories of the area.

Wanting to be as far away from noise as possible, you move toward the first bedded row and take your place along it, laying longways on the thing and facing the stage which seems to almost tower above you since you’re not sitting upright and are closer to the floor. You almost wish you had a blanket, but unfortunately, you’ll have to make do with what you have now. Even then, the bed’s pretty comfortable with how tired you are. Admittedly, you might have even passed out on the rec room couches with how fast you seem to be fading. Now that you’ve finally been left alone and don’t have to think anymore, you really do just want to collapse.

A part of you wants to be suspicious of your exhaustion after how many times you’ve been drugged to sleep, and especially after what Cyrus had told you about Penny. But you’re certain this time it’s just you. You think you can tell the difference now, though that’s hardly a noteworthy skill. Falling asleep on your own, though, is almost a luxury by this point. If not for Cyrus’ being here long enough to show that it’s not the case, you’d almost believe constantly being anesthetized would give you brain damage or something.

Thinking back on Violet in your last few moments of awareness, you start to wonder if what you told her did any good. Her reactions led you to believe she’d become remorseful of her words and actions, but the fact that it took being snapped at and talked down to by someone she really loved to make her see how wrong she was only shows you how stubborn she really is. Perhaps even more than Eight. Even he gradually got better far quicker than Violet. However, he seems to sympathize with her in a way you didn’t expect. Perhaps weaning Violet off of Cyrus can help her in the long run, but you’re sure the transition is going to be extremely awkward. You also hold steadfast to the hope that she really wasn’t intending to die like she said she wasn’t. You’d never forgive yourself if she tried to and succeeded.

Violet needs to be watched over, yet hovering her now would likely do more harm than good. Like Eight, all you can do is watch her from afar and hope for the best. You had to take a more sympathetic and kinder approach to her, one more of understanding. Admittedly, hearing the things she said to you made you upset. It was enough to hear that Five and Six thought Jade might have been better off dead, even if it was for a positive reason. But Violet...you never expected her to think something that horrible. You’re glad she apologized and showed genuine grief about the thought, but you wonder whether Cyrus really will forgive her when she tells him about it.

For as much as you hate the doctors, even, you’d still find it difficult to process their deaths or any sudden disappearances. Violet said she’d never act upon a thought she had, and like her, you’re not sure you could ever really bring yourself to do so. The only way to truly be rid of the doctors is for them to die, but you doubt you could kill another person even if they hurt you. It’d be strange to will them to die so openly, even though you have the right to after everything you’ve endured. They’re bad people who deserve nothing, after all. You admit you’d not be sour if the doctors randomly disappeared, but disappearances are different from death, even if the death may be implicit. Out of sight, out of mind, you suppose.

Still, you feel pretty awful for Violet. It must have been horrible to lose someone you love to another. But, going about it the way she did isn’t exactly a good approach. You wish people didn’t compare you to Jade so much. At the very least, Violet seemed to say you two were distinct. For as disrespectful as she can be, she’s the first person to say that about you. Even in her earlier association of you with Jade, she ultimately acknowledged that you’re really your own person. You’re genuinely grateful for it. You love the other Numbers, but Three wants you to be like Jade, it seems. And even Cyrus possibly sees something in you that might remind him of her. Perhaps that’s the only reason he’s bothered to get so close to you, but you don’t want to believe that’s the case.

Everyone’s been telling you he cares about you, possibly more than just as a friend. You are hardly an expert at reading signs of attraction, and you’ve never once considered even initiating a relationship with anyone here. With everything that’s going on with the doctors, with how confused you always feel, a relationship isn’t anything you care to pursue right now. And even so, you’d feel pretty bad for Lav if you decided you wanted to be that way with Cyrus. She assured you it wouldn’t bother her, but you admit that even you’d be disappointed if you really loved someone that way and had to watch them slip through your fingers, no matter how happy you did want them to be.

Do you even love Cyrus that way? You love him just as much as you love Lav, but you’re not sure what kind of love that is anymore. You admit the amorous concept has been violently skewed with how long you’ve been here with Yosuke. Cyrus had told you about what it means to feel love for others, and then the peachy Five and Six discussed relationships with you. But with how often you hear the familiar phrase from your doctor, you aren’t sure you could handle hearing it from anyone else right now. It would have little meaning. If not for him, it might be easier to say you love others in a romantic sense. To say it aloud like him now would feel alien to you. As it is, sex between both your friends was strange enough to deal with. It felt good and they made you happy. But…

You sigh.

It would be pretty shitty of you to go after Cyrus immediately after Violet lost him, anyway. You'd look petty. You really don’t play those kinds of games, and you’d prefer not to be seen as someone who would. For now, it’s best to just let things be. You’re sure that your feelings will come organically in time, and that you’ll eventually be able to sort them out more clearly. But now, you need to focus on yourself.

You’d like to think you could pursue a relationship. Perhaps there’s a universe out there, a version of you that’s left the facility and finally tasted freedom. Maybe that version of you is happy with someone who actually loves you. But, you know that’s never going to happen in your time. Not to you. You’ll die here. So, you figure you either live up this place as best you can, or you crumble and wither. You’re too tired to pick a side right now, despite knowing the answer should be obvious. The last few moments of your exhaustion impede your ability to think to clearly or stay aware, and so your eyelids heavily close. Like curtains, they fall until the stage is no longer in your sight.

Chapter 48: Rest Twenty Four - Date

Your eyes gently and slowly open.

Sleeping on your own rather than while under the influence of the anesthetic is utterly refreshing to you. You’re not sure when the last time was that you went to sleep and woke up entirely on your own, without the influence of drugs or total emotional exhaustion. From what you know and can remember, you’ve been drugged on and off so regularly that you’ve not genuinely slept like this. Even if what you took might have been a small nap, it felt good.

You didn’t dream, or at least not that you can recall. For a moment, you wonder whether you’re dreaming now with how strangely dim everything around you is. Your eyes hardly have to adjust to the bare minimum light before you’re able to see everything in the room, though admittedly you half-expected to wake up in your room or in one of your examination rooms. Instead, you can see that you’re still in the theater, with the stage still towering above you and the metal overhead of the burgundy bed still curling over and above you, almost as if cradling your body.

How long has it been since you fell asleep? And why is it so dim? The lights haven’t been entirely shut off, merely it looks as though they’ve been significantly lowered. You can still generally make things out, but have to concentrate to see everything properly. You almost think that maybe a movie has started to play in here, but the screen isn’t down like it has been before.

After sitting back up, you yawn lightly as your body continues to fully shake itself from its previous slumbering state. Deciding to see who might still be around, you push yourself off of the burgundy bed and head down the theater aisle and toward the room’s exit. You’re not sure whether the others are still in the crafts room, but decide to try heading there to check. To your surprise, the doors to the room part to reveal that it’s just as dim as the lighting in the theater. To boot, nobody appears to be there. Whatever mess everyone made in here isn’t evident either—it looks as though the area has been untouched. Or perhaps already cleaned.

You’re somewhat put off by this sight and opt to try going into another room. Every one that you look into appears as untouched as the crafts room, and every one of them is also dim. The only exception seems to be the gardens, which have lights only slightly less bright than usual, but definitely more targeted upon the rows of planters. You assume it’s to imitate sunlight and keep the plants healthy, though it looks wildly different in here now. There are spots between the planters that are just slightly darker than others, and there are shadows being cast underneath the planters that are stronger than they usually are. Still, the room is fairly well illuminated all things considered, and even with darker spots between planters, there are pools of light still lightly bleeding into the aisles.

Even in the unsettling quiet, the area is still beautiful. Being here in the light almost helps to relieve your worries, but you don’t bother to stop and take the scenery in. You’re still unsure what’s going on and why you’re here alone, so you exit the gardens and again go into the hall.

You don’t go into the rec room just yet, but rather head to the gate and curl your fingers around the bars. Your heart beats slightly faster at the sight of the crossroads of all the hallways, but you try to remind yourself that you’re not in any danger right now. Or at least, you hope not. Nobody appears to be around, and the dim emptiness of the recreational areas is almost haunting to you. It’s too quiet here. You don’t like it.

“Hello?!” You call out, hoping that someone will hear you. Your eyes flicker to the records office room door, but it appears to be closed. Starting to grow a little more uneasy now, you tug at the gate to see if it’ll budge, but it naturally does not. Sighing, you drop your head and lean it against the bars for a moment, defeated. What’s going on? Why are you alone? Why is it so dark? The rooms almost have the same lighting as the hall by this point, if somewhat darker.

You give a deep inhale and exhale, trying to keep yourself calm. No good will come out of panicking right now, and there’s nobody around to help you if you start. Actually, you should be enjoying the brief respite from everything you’ve dealt with recently. Being alone here should excite you, give you a chance to do things on your own that you wouldn’t be able to otherwise. Read, draw, practice music so that you’re not utterly bad at it. Maybe even meditate or exercise somewhat like Cyrus and Lav. Unfortunately, this predicament amuses you very little. Of all the things you could do to make the best of a bad situation, you end up doing nothing but feeling confused and somewhat frightened. Something about the silence and the darkness now is just unnerving and surreal.

More questions run through your head now. Has Yosuke forgotten to pick you up? Did something happen to him to impede his doing so? Wouldn’t someone have noticed you’re still here and that you were never collected? Mom certainly would have had to notice you weren’t picked up, right? And if workers had come to clean up, they would have noticed you around, wouldn’t they have? Were they not checking every room if they were cleaning them up? Why not?

You scowl slightly at all these questions buzzing in your head, but you continue to ponder your predicament nonetheless. If there were cameras around, surely the doctors’ boss would have seen you. But now that he seems to have let this happen, either he doesn’t care, or he hasn’t at all noticed. The way the man has been spoken of by his employees, and the way you remember him acting even in that brief moment of seeing him yourself, you really don’t take him as someone who would just “let” this happen. This all seems strange. Could this have been orchestrated? For what reason? Is it somehow just another one of Gale’s little behavioral experiments? You’re not sure.

After a brief moment, you pick your head up from the bars and turn it toward your left. You catch sight of the infirmary door, and subsequently the keypad with the CALL DOCTOR button just beneath it. You’d seen both of these once or twice before, but never thought much of them. Perhaps it’s best that you do try the bottommost button once. You’re certain Mom’s the one that’d be called in this case, since she’s closest to you—that is, assuming she’s even in the office. If it’s after hours, you have no reason to believe she would be, but it’s worth a shot. The thought of seeing the woman again doesn’t quite excite you, but you’re sure Mom wouldn’t possibly do anything strange to you now with her hands the way they are. Right? She’d have to just make sure you were okay, and nothing more.

Sighing, you walk slowly toward the keypad and hit the button to call a doctor. It makes no noise other than a light tapping sound that emits from your skin’s contact with the smooth, square surface. It’s so quiet in the hall now, you can hear the tapping fairly clearly. Still, with no indication that a doctor has been called, you wonder whether or not the button even worked. You half-expected a buzz or a prompt on the keypad to indicate that you pressed it, but nothing seems to happen. The power to it certainly isn’t off since the keypad is displaying a single digitized dot on its screen’s rightmost side as if awaiting an input.

You turn your head to look behind you, toward the office door past the gate. You even wait a good while with your gaze fixated on the thing, but nothing happens. You don’t even hear anyone bothering to come through the hall from elsewhere.

Your worry grows, yet you remain defeated knowing that you’re stuck here. You turn your attention back to the keypad before you and sigh. Mindlessly, you tap a few of the numbers on it. The first time you do, the screen on the keypad flashes a message that merely says ERROR in square lettering. Quietly, you hit a few more keys and notice that there are nine digits that you can fully enter before the message pops up again. At the very least, now you know that much. But it hardly helps you.

Still, you try to remember the code that Jay had recited to you once before. Despite being adamant about listening to her then, so much has happened since to distract you that it hardly stuck in your mind. You try your best to recollect it, but the only numbers you more clearly remember are one and nine, though you don’t remember the order they were in. You then start to recall that Jay had recited only four numbers, right before—

No, you’d rather not relive it again.

You step away from the keypad, refusing to even try entering a code now and just dropping everything you were doing entirely to avoid unwillingly reminiscing Jay’s death. You’ve been sick enough having to remember it all these days. You have to push past it as best you can. As it is, everyone keeps undermining you for being weak about it. If you can’t get over it soon, the doctors won’t stop teasing you, fucking with you, reminding you of everything you lived through without explicitly having to say a single thing.

Thinking of all this makes you angry, so you decide to walk away and head toward the rec room. Unsurprisingly, the area is as empty as the other rooms. It’s strange to see it so dim now. Even the television displaying nature scenes isn’t on. You had no idea they turned most things off at all once all the Numbers went to their rooms. It shouldn’t surprise you, yet you still find it strange. You half-expected everything to just look the same, for everything to remain as it is when you’re here. Having everything void of life would be one thing, but being here in incessant dim light on top of it is entirely different.

A part of you wants to believe this is all just some crazy dream. It’s no stranger than anything else you’ve dreamt. Some scenarios in your dreams were far shorter than others, but it’s possible this could just be a long one. Perhaps like the wedding.

You shudder thinking of it again. You’d not imagine any woman in her right mind would marry a man like Yosuke. Well, maybe someone like Mom who seems so obsessed with him at times, but you’d hardly call their relationship a loving one. A part of you still can’t even believe the two were involved, but it really seems like it’s true the more you see them interact. Maybe in some other universe, they’re perfectly happy together. Maybe in that universe, they were never doctors to begin with. Never part of all of this. Maybe the version of you in that universe never had to meet them. Maybe that version of you is genuinely happy.

You sigh and hold a hand to your head. What a stupid thought. Not only stupid, but unrealistic. You’re starting to get so desperate to taste freedom that you’re envisioning scenarios in which you might actually have been anywhere but here. Still, perhaps daydreaming in small enough doses for you not to become blind to reality helps to relieve your tension. What would that happy version of you be like? Maybe you have your own house, maybe you have a nice job and a hobby that you’re really good at. Maybe you have a brother or sister who sometimes visits you. Maybe a mother and father who are proud of you.

These thoughts lead you to wonder again whether you had any of these things to begin with, and trying to recall it makes your head hurt once more, with the static feeling you’re familiar with again invading your brain. You grumble in frustration and drop your hand, walking now to the far-right end of the rec room to the bottom right corner relative to where the room’s entrance is, past all the game tables where there’s a restroom door. Unlike the bathroom doors in your room that are only accessible to you, this one has a lock on it to prevent unwanted entry. You slide the door open now and enter the restroom, instinctively turning the door’s metal lock to the right until a small pane of color above it flashes from green to red, to signify that the room is occupied. Even if there’s nobody around, you still feel compelled to do this.

After giving the restroom a quick use and heading to wash off, you lean against the sink and start looking at yourself in the mirror, exhaling as you recover from the uncomfortable sensation in your head. Staring at yourself now, you realize that your hair’s gotten much longer than you remember it being. You don’t even remember when the last time was that you looked at yourself like this.

No—you do.

The last time you saw yourself was when you woke up in your own room once, before you fell back asleep again and had to face Yosuke after not having seen him for a while. Back then, your neck was fairly green as your bruises from Milos’ choking of you were still in the process of healing. Looking at the skin on your neck now, your bruises are almost entirely gone. You can hardly even see them.

Despite the unease you feel in general right now, seeing that your bruises are practically healed almost makes you breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, you still reel at the memory of being choked and handled roughly, as evidenced by your incessant hesitance toward Milos and your negative reactions to being grabbed by the neck by anyone at all after him. Mom and Micah had both touched your neck and made you squirm. Even if that does make you weak, you’re still not entirely able to help how you feel. You wonder if you’ll continue to react to the death you witnessed in much the same way. Even if Milos’ abuse of you was so long ago, its effect on you has remained.

If Gale weren’t so shady a person, you might be inclined to ask Yosuke to see them again just so they can help you get over it, among other things. Unfortunately, all you have to rely on is yourself and your friends. Even if the prospect of writing in a journal to get your feelings out might be of some interest, you refuse to touch the thing Gale gave you. Though, you wonder if it’s even still there in your room after what you did.

You touch a few fingers to your neck and glide them along the skin as you watch the motion reflected in the mirror. Your fingers eventually trail to your right shoulder and pull away the upper portion of your gown. The scar Micah left you is still fairly red, but closed up by now. Touching it lightly stings, but nowhere near as much as it did when the cut was fresh. Curious, you also pull your gown down slightly to expose the upper part of your chest. The first scar Micah gave you has since healed over, though it’s left a subtle, discolored mark that you suppose is now permanent on your skin. This doesn’t make you feel any better, but you start to grow curious about the rest of your body as well.

Knowing that nobody’s around and that the door is locked, you don’t find it discomforting to undress. You lift up the hem of your rose gown and pull the whole thing off of your body, then turn around and try to look over your shoulder at your back. The mirror is low enough to where you can at least see your upper back. Looking at it now, you notice that Micah’s left a few rolling knicks on your flesh from his use of the strange spiky wheel on your body. Even so, it’s only barely noticeable. There are still some red trails along parts of your skin, though they’re not as bad as they could be. You’re sure by tomorrow, they’ll be completely faded, even if the pricks from the wheel will still be visible. Still, they’ll likely only be visible to you, and certainly known to Violet who saw you just earlier. She did give the impression she’d looked back at you in the shower, anyway.

Clutching your rose gown in your left hand, you lightly rub your bottom with the other hand and feel a sore sensation in your skin as you do. It doesn’t sting as badly as it had when your injuries were fresh, but it isn’t necessarily comfortable either. You’re sure Yosuke wasn’t the least bit pleased by this injury any more than he was with the cut. Hopefully the skin heals as quickly as it did when Sven was the one hitting you. You don’t recall the area hurting too badly after the fact.

Having finished assessing your body, you re-dress yourself, tugging the rose gown back over your frame. You quickly run your fingers through your slightly messied hair to smooth it out, but don’t really bother to do much else to yourself.

In the midst of your lazy grooming, you hear a distant grinding noise that makes you freeze up and widen your eyes. You tilt your head slightly to raise your ear up, as if to try hearing the noise better. As quickly as it began, it ends. In no time, you are able to gather just what the noise was. For some reason, hearing it now makes your heart beat as fast as it had when you first realized you were alone.

It’s not clear who might be here now, but you wonder whether your pushing of the CALL DOCTOR button didn’t go unnoticed after all. Still, you don’t bother to move. Despite wanting to get out of this place and back to your room, you’re unnerved enough to not want to see who’s outside. Instead, you press your back against the wall across from the bathroom door and stare at the lock, hoping that whoever’s here won’t bother to come by or notice you’re in here.

Your ears remain ever focused on any little noise that they can pick up. You stand in silence, trying to keep your breath steady and quiet so that you can hear better. For some reason, your fear increases the moment you hear the rec room doors open. You should be happy you won’t be stuck here, but you aren’t the least bit focused on that now. Perhaps you feel like you’re going to be punished for being here when you shouldn’t, even though it’s not at all your fault. Clutching both your arms, you continue to sink back into the wall enough that you start to slide down it, until you’re sitting on top of the floor with your knees bent.

There’s a brief silence that you almost want to be grateful for, but it’s immediately followed by a light attempting tug of the door before you. The thing makes a few jiggling noises as whoever it is behind it tries to pry it open, but it refuses to budge otherwise. You watch the door just barely move as it’s fiddled with, but in moments, the movement stops.

“Ten?”

You let out a light gasp at hearing this familiar voice, then immediately clamp a hand over your mouth, mad at yourself for making noise. You’re still shaken slightly, even knowing that it’s only Yosuke and not someone else who might try to physically hurt you. Still, you don’t respond. After the jiggling of the door comes a series of heavy knocks upon it. Slow in rhythm, disturbingly expectant.

“My pet, if you don’t let me in, I’ll have to force my way in,” Yosuke warns you, his voice lightly muffled from behind the door. These words deeply unsettle you, and for as little as you’d like to face your doctor in general now, you’d also rather avoid too much trouble. Hesitantly, you reach an arm up toward the door lock and twist it to the left to unlock it. Almost immediately, the door slides open, and there at the doorway stands your doctor. His coat is missing, and his blue sleeves are rolled down. Your heart skips a beat when you see him, but he luckily doesn’t look too upset with you. Rather, he smiles gently the moment his olive eyes settle upon your folded, trembling frame.

“Dear, are you alright?” He questions sweetly. “You’re shaking. Are you scared?”

“I’m not exactly thrilled right now,” You mumble, trying to re-compose yourself now that you’re not in any apparent danger. “I’m just unnerved.”

“Mm, you have been fairly skittish since then,” Yosuke points out. Though he avoids being specific, you’re able to gather what he means. He then reaches out a hand and offers it to you. “But it’s alright. I’m here now. So come with me. I’ll take you to your room.”

You look up at your doctor with unease in your eyes, hesitating to take his offered hand right away. You’re sure he means to do something to you that you won’t like when he’s brought you to bed. Still, you know you have little choice. Hesitantly, you reach over and take his hand. His fingers curl delicately around your flesh, and Yosuke helps lift your body off of the ground without much trouble. For a moment, you stand before him without moving, with your hand still in his. You look up at Yosuke and frown.

“Why did you leave me here?” You question adamantly. “Where have you been? Are you even allowed to-”

Yosuke cups his other hand along your cheek, and the act makes you stop talking and look away. Your doctor continues to smile gently at you.

“My apologies, pet,” he coos. “I got fairly caught up with some work, as ever. I guess I lost track of the hour even moreso this time around.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for this?” You ask, still avoiding Yosuke’s gaze. “Your boss seems to expect order. Routine. A mistake like that…”

“I told you I could handle his painful punishments,” Your doctor assures you as you trail off. He rubs your cheek lightly before dropping both hands from you. “I’m no stranger to physical scuffles or injuries. I’ll make do.”

He laughs lightly.

“My dear, don’t think about it so much. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?”

You blush hearing this, and again hold your upper arms in each hand, enclosing yourself in your own embrace. You say nothing in response to your doctor, but rather let him lead you onward. It’s not like you can really say no.

As you step out of the bathroom, both you and your doctor almost jump at the sound of the gate outside shutting. You look up at Yosuke with worry, but he merely walks quickly out of the rec room to head to the hall. Quietly, you follow, but even your pace is quickened as you fear what’s just happened.

When the both of you are out of the room, you stop. Your heart sink as you notice that the gate has now been shut, precisely as you expected. Yosuke walks toward the thing and wraps a hand around one of the bars, attempting to pry the door open. When he fails, he sighs.

“Well, this certainly complicates things.”

You look on at him and shake your head. “Please, please tell me there’s a way to open the gate from here.”

“Do you think we’d just leave one accessible to you?” Yosuke turns his body back to you and lowers a brow. “It’d be foolish to leave a failsafe like that so close to you.”

“But it’d be foolish not to have one at all,” You shoot back. “Yosuke, I don’t want to be stuck here with you. Please.”

“My pet, what do you expect me to do?” Your doctor laughs in amusement at your worry. He seems far less disturbed by being here than you do, but this surprises you very little. “Really, now. We’ll just have to make do.”

You grumble and hold your head, reprimanding yourself.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I could have been out of here.”

“Even if you hadn’t, I still wouldn’t have gotten you since I was distracted,” Your doctor points out, moving to the keypad by the infirmary now and entering a code. In the silence of the hall, you can hear him pressing just a few of the buttons lightly, but every tap that’s actually audible sounds the same to you. You wonder how Jay was ever able to distinct them.

“…What are you doing?”

“Looking for a light source,” Yosuke explains, letting the infirmary door slide open. You’d rather not be left alone again, so you merely follow your doctor into the room. Even in here, it’s dim.

“Is there no way to turn the lights on?” You ask him.

“They turn on and off automatically depending on the time of day,” is the answer you receive from your doctor. Yosuke begins to fish through a few of the drawers in the room for something you’re not sure of. He seems somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t find it. As he continues to look around, you start to feel strange being in here again. Last time you were here, it was with Mom and Cyrus. Last time, Mom…

You shudder slightly at the memory. You’d rather not think about it now.

Eventually, Yosuke finds something of some worth—a small metal object, rectangular in shape with a line separating the top and bottom halves of the thing. It looks glossy, coated with a deep blue color, and certainly well kept. The ends are trimmed in gold, and one side has a lengthy cylindrical fixture with grooves in it. The thing looks overall regal in appearance. Your doctor opens the top of the object only to reveal that it’s a lighter of some sort, and its interior is as golden as its trim. The metal clicks open as the top pops off, and Yosuke uses his thumb, pressing it down on the grooved cylindrical wheel on the side of the lighter and flicking it in one direction to ignite the thing. It makes light scratchy noise before a flame emerges from the tip of the middlemost portion of the lighter.

Instantly, the dim room brightens just a little more with orange flickering hues. Shadows surround the upper part of your doctor’s head as the flame on the lighter dances about. Despite feeling unnerved about being her with Yosuke, you admit the flame is pretty.

Promptly, Yosuke flicks the wheel back into its original position, causing the flame to go out and the orange light to dissipate. Even without the fire, you can still see the room well enough. Still, you almost miss the orange light when it’s gone.

Yosuke closes the lighter and sighs.

“Not the light source I’d prefer,” he mulls over aloud, “But I’ll hold onto it. I suppose it’ll be of use, but it’s also not even supposed to be here. I’ve no idea whose it might be, but I know for certain it isn’t your mother’s.”

“Does the other doctors smoke? Isn’t that bad for you?”

“Even professionals do things they shouldn’t, Ten,” Yosuke frowns as he tucks the lighter into his pants pocket and moves closer toward you. “In any case, some do, but they certainly aren’t supposed to be smoking down here. Either someone’s left it here accidentally, or they abandoned it after being scolded for smoking where they shouldn’t, because there’s no way they wouldn’t be caught doing so in a room this small where the evidence of smoking would be difficult to ignore, nor would anyone leave a lighter of this quality behind for no reason. Still, maybe it’s good that they did leave it here. It’s of some use to us now.”

You hold a few fingers to your lips. You’ve never kissed anyone here who smelled or tasted of smoke. Perhaps they’re good at hiding some of their vices that way. Aside from Milos, whom you’ve only known to smell and taste of alcohol, the doctors all do well to smell good. You suppose you’re grateful not to have gotten a mouthful of some disgusting tobacco flavor, at least. You don’t know why, but you’re familiar with what it smells like and can recall it almost vividly.

Suddenly, your stomach begins to growl. The noise takes you aback, and you drop your hand to the area where it’s coming from.

“Have you eaten, my pet?” Yosuke questions you, putting a hand on your left shoulder. You shake your head.

“No. I guess I didn’t eat at all today.” You think back on earlier, remembering that you’d emptied your stomach and talked a while before merely passing out. Perhaps it was dumb of you not to at least put something back in your stomach.

“You ought to,” Your doctor frowns. He sounds genuinely concerned, but you’re not inclined to believe he is. “I’m sure I can bother the cafeteria worker enough to wake him and get you something.”

Hearing his statement makes you look up at Yosuke somewhat worriedly.

“Does…he stay there all day?” You ask him. “Does he live there?”

“That’s not anything to worry your precious head about now, is it? The workers are hardly important.” Yosuke chuckles, dodging your question. He raises his hand slightly to run the back of it down your cheek, then brings a few fingers to your lips and gently places them there. “Be glad that he’s here. Otherwise, I’d have to find something else to nourish you with.”

You blush and look down, not exactly happy about this cheeky innuendo. You’ve had enough in your mouth today already.

Yosuke laughs lightly at your reaction, then drops his hand.

“Darling, why don’t you take a minute to yourself while I bother him?” He suggests. “Perhaps you’d like to take the opportunity to see what you can find in the theater. There are costumes there you’re welcome to. Why not find something nicer to wear other than that old gown?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, avoiding Yosuke’s olive gaze. “I’ll stay in this.”

“It’d give you a chance to get away from me for a little bit,” he tries to entice you, smirking. “I’m sure you’d like that. Besides, I’ll need a bit of time to try getting you something to eat. I can always come fetch you when I’m ready.”

You sigh lightly. You’re sure he just wants to toy with you, dress you up like some doll so he can ogle you, among other things. Even if you fight him, he’ll find a way to force you to do what he wants anyway. At the very least, doing it on your own might make you feel less awful about it.

“Okay,” you tell him with a low voice. You give your doctor no chance to respond, merely walking out of the infirmary yourself and heading to the theater. For a moment, you stop in the hall and look toward the metal gate again. While you’re alone, you walk toward the white thing and try seeing whether you can pry it open yourself, tugging at one of the bars with one of your hands. It’s not surprising that the gate doesn’t budge, but you wanted to be sure Yosuke wasn’t bullshitting you about it being locked.

Giving up, you head to the theater and exhale heavily once you’re in there again. You truly wish that you could just go back to sleep and wake up away from this. Maybe if you try, you’ll realize it was all a bad dream after all. You pinch your hand just to be sure, but it doesn’t much seem to jolt you awake. In silence, you defeatedly head toward the stage and climb atop it from the front, rather than using the stage entrance on the left. Once on top and back on your feet, you make your way toward the back wall where all the cabinets and cubbies are.

Although Yosuke told you to find something to wear, you can’t help but first fish through the props out of curiosity. There appear to be a variety of unsorted things. The way everything’s set up, it’s an unorganized mess comparable to a child’s toy chest. There are things like little decorative knickknacks meant to be placed in a set, but there are also handheld props like fans, books, dolls, torches, microphones, different kinds of currency, and more. It surprises you very little that they’re able to at all, but how the twins manage to shuffle through this all without much problem, you’ll never know.

After a brief time spent examining the props, you finally make your way to a cabinet somewhere on the right. It’s got two doors, and it’s made of metal like most other storage units here are. The thing creaks open when you tug on the grey handles, and in the cabinet are an assortment of cubbies for small garments of clothes like belts, fake jewelry, or shoes, and one long and wide cubby where larger articles of clothing are hanging on a metal rod. This particular cabinet seems to house more feminine clothing, and so you gather that one nearby is for men’s clothes.

As you run a hand along a long sleeve of a random dress shirt, you’re surprised to find how nice a quality the material really is. Even the stitching on the fabric is phenomenally tight and precise. You’d half-expected the clothing to be as cheap as the fake props, but these seem fairly well made. You wonder whether Jonathan and Nathaniel had something to do with this. Perhaps they even donated these clothes themselves. Really, you’d imagine the theater was their choice to implement in the recreational areas to begin with. You can hardly visualize any of the Numbers really utilizing it outside of Two or Three, though. Maybe the Numbers before the ones you know now had played around in here before. You wouldn’t know.

You’d like to ask Cyrus more about them, but you know it’s not your place to. Only in that moment was it really appropriate. Hell, even then, maybe it wasn’t. A part of you feels like you overstepped by demanding Cyrus tell you about the others at all.

Thinking of them now hurts your heart again. You can’t imagine how much they must have suffered losing one another. Certainly, it must have hurt Cyrus to lose them too. He’d referred to his other group as his first family, after all. You hope that he doesn’t have to deal with that kind of loss ever again, but perhaps that’s an unrealistic view to have. He’d said the doctors are far more careful about taking care of the Numbers now than they had been before, so maybe they actually want to make sure you’re okay. Or at least, not just dying needlessly.

Even Micah had said the doctors do what’s necessary to make sure they can all keep doing what it is they’re doing with you. It’s strange to think he’d imply this when you’ve been made aware you’re expendable. But you suppose that even if it’s easy to replace a Number, it’d be foolish to go through them intently or needlessly. For as little as you’d like to recall him and that day more, you do recall that even the doctors’ boss had seemed displeased about his employee’s killing of Jay. He had to remind himself that she was of little importance and got over losing her quickly. You feel sorry for anyone he does deem genuinely important.

Maybe it’s best you not linger on this memory of him.

In any case, even if it’s hardly a big deal to lose a prisoner, you’re certain there’s still work involved in replacing them. Maybe even money. You don’t remember much about the outside world, but you can certainly remember money being important.

After mindlessly thumbing through the ladies clothing in the cabinet, you finally start to pull out a few dresses. Admittedly, you like the idea of dressing up a little. If only clothing wasn’t used here to pretty you up for sex, maybe you’d like it a little more. Still, a lot of these dresses are garnish and flowing, well made and beautiful. Some are more obviously meant to be period dresses, but a few seem more casual and perhaps modern. A nice cocktail dress, a slip dress, a—

Wedding dress…?

You widen your eyes slightly when you see the thing, white and lacy. It’s nothing like the one you remember wearing in your dream, though it still takes you aback to see. You’d rather not think about marrying your doctor again. Back then, you had started to fall for him hard without meaning to. You even let him have you and asked for him yourself despite still being unsure whether you should. Yosuke being gentle with you, loving, kind, in a way you’d never known him to be…that felt good. But after what he did to you recently…

You shut your eyes. You don’t know how you feel anymore. He feels good, yet he’s awful and you’re aware of this. That’s really all there is to it. So long as you can remember that he’s evil, you can focus on hating him. Even if you periodically lose yourself to his touch, you couldn’t possibly let yourself be his willingly.

You try to shake your thoughts away and open your eyes again. You settle on and pick out a gown with a wide skirt, one made with thicker but still soft material. Though you’d rather not expose all that much leg in front of your doctor, knowing it’ll entice him, there are hardly any “modern” dresses that have skirts that cover very well. The only one that does has a slit on the side to expose one leg anyway.

The dress you’ve picked has medium-length sleeves, but an open shoulder cut. The top of it is somewhat lacy and decorative, but not overly so. Though it’s not the best choice, it’s, you figure, better than nothing. All things considered, the deep, rich black color on the thing you picked looks nice and uniform. Besides, you admit it’d be nice to wear something other than rose pink. Even during your visit with Jonathan, you admittedly didn’t mind wearing something new to some extent. It was disgusting to be dressed for sex, but you’d rather it be lace than latex. Though, thinking of the slick material surrounding your body again makes you blush.

Distancing yourself from the thought, you look hesitantly to the theater exit and make sure Yosuke isn’t coming through the doors. When you can assess you’re safely alone, you disrobe, dropping your rose gown on the stage floor. Being nude here feels strange, especially in front of the rows of beds. You can easily see them being full of people, and this makes your nervousness rise. You dress yourself in the black, flowing gown a bit quickly after this, slipping into it without an issue. It takes a bit of adjusting on the sleeves and chest area, but you manage to ease into the thing fairly well.

It’s strangely a good fit for you. The sleeves cover your upper arms, and the hem hangs a good bit under your knees. Though, it curves upward at the front, showing off most of your calves. You wanted to avoid this, but it’s the longest dress out of the more casual costumes. Anything else is an excessively fabric-laden historical gown or a short, sleeveless dress.

You’re not sure what to do with your rose gown, but prefer not to leave it crumpled on the floor. Instead, you grab it and stuff it in one of the little cubbies in the cabinet, then close the doors. Still facing it, you mindlessly look down and grab the large skirt portion of your dress, picking it up a little to see how wide it can extend before letting it fall back over the skin on your legs. It’s a fairly comfortable thing, and one you admittedly don’t dislike.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Yosuke’s voice echoes from afar. The sudden intrusion of his dialogue causes you to gasp and promptly turn around to face the front of the stage, and subsequently the theater entrance. You’d not even heard the doors to the theater open.

Your doctor stands at the entrance with a hand in his left pocket, while the other hangs at his side. He slowly walks down the middle aisle, toward you. Though, he doesn’t stop at the foot of the stage. Instead, he walks upstairs on the left of the stage and makes his way directly to where you are. Your heart beats quicker as he approaches you, but you don’t bother to try running now. You’d have nowhere to go, besides.

Yosuke gently takes one of your hands and holds it above you.

“Twirl for me, won’t you?” He sweetly requests. This puts you off, but you oblige the man anyway and move around in your dress, letting it spin around your body as your doctor keeps you balanced and watches you intently.

“How graceful,” he remarks happily with a light smile. “I’ve never seen you like this. Are you usually this light on your feet?”

You say nothing, but aren’t really able to look away as Yosuke takes his hand away from yours and curls his fingers under your chin to lift it.

“There’s no need to be shy, my pet. I adore you this way,” he murmurs. “Now, let’s get you down from here, hm?”

He moves toward the front of the stage and jumps down to the ground, then turns back and motions for you to follow. Being slightly higher than your doctor’s height now, you are able to look down at him for once. It feels strange to do so.

Yosuke motions with both hands for you to jump down, but you hesitate for a moment to. You don’t want to let your dress open up with the rush of air, but your doctor seems to insist that you come down. Sighing, you let the man catch your waist as you hop off the stage, his grip on you strong and firm as he helps lower you to your feet.

The man luckily does not linger on your waist, instead letting you go and gesturing forward, toward the theater exit.

“Ladies first,” he says politely with an endearing smile. You again refuse to respond and merely walk forward, holding your arms and hoping that tonight can end sooner. Still, your stomach continues to make its hungering, growling noises, and you can’t help but look forward to putting something in your stomach.

For once, you lead Yosuke. Or rather, he follows you closely under the guise of being polite and letting you go first. Still, it’s another strange occurrence for you, and you’re not sure what to make of it. You head out of the theater and start to make your way to the cafeteria. When the doors open, your eyes immediately catch sight of a familiar orange light flickering about. You realize that it’s fire, but it’s where the fire is coming from that strikes you as odd.

On the table closest to and directly before you, there’s two plates of food, and two strange spindly-stemmed glasses beside each one, filled with a liquid you can’t make out from where you are. There are two smaller plates between the dishes that have what look to be white crayons melted into the surface. Their tips are what are being burnt, it seems.

“What is this?” You ask Yosuke, who you can feel standing fairly close from behind you. Close enough to feel his body heat. The man gives a light laugh.

“I suppose it’s hardly romantic,” he lightheartedly jokes. “But it’ll have to do. I made do with what we had here to create makeshift candles. Leaving the lighter on would be too dangerous with the gas inside. And besides, eating in such dim light is hardly favorable. I thought you might prefer a bit more light, even if it’s from improvised candles.”

You step slowly forward to look more clearly at the table setup. Whatever’s in the spindly-stemmed glasses looks translucent, but you can’t make out any apparent color with the candlelight. Perhaps it has a yellowish tint, but it’s not super obvious in this light. The food on each plate looks to be some kind of pre-cut steak, scallops, and asparagus. It’s not an overwhelming amount of food, but certainly savory enough in appearance for you to know it’ll be just filling enough to satisfy you. Even from here, you can smell the rich aroma of the stuff. It practically makes your mouth water.

Yosuke puts his hand on your left shoulder again.

“Is this too much for you, darling?”

“It’s strange,” you respond bluntly, shaking the man’s grip of you and moving forward. You don’t understand what he’s doing or why, other than to torment you for his own amusement. Still, you’re willing to endure this much just to get something to eat. Quietly, you take your seat on the side of the table closest to the door, while your doctor sits opposite to you.

You refuse to look up at Yosuke, but do take a fork that’s been laid out by your plate and use it to start pecking at your food. You pop a scallop in your mouth and are met with a savory and somewhat buttery flavor that you admittedly enjoy. Though, you might just enjoy it much more than you usually would because of how hungry you are.

“Is it good?” Your doctor questions, taking his glass of whatever-it-is and sipping at it while watching you. “It’s leftover from today, but I figured it was feasible enough.”

You don’t verbally respond, but give a light nod while still avoiding your doctor’s eyes. Though, you do start to feel awkward when silence falls too long between you two. Yosuke occasionally pecks at his own plate, but even he takes his time more than you. It embarrasses you slightly to be eating so eagerly before him, so you soon slow your pace. You move onto tasting the steak, lightly nudging at a piece of it with your fork.

“Don’t people usually cut their own steak at the dinner table?” You mindlessly ask, popping the meat into your mouth. It’s equally as savory, with a light subtle flavor of salt.

“Usually, yes,” Yosuke answers you casually after another light sip of his drink. You’re starting to wonder if it’s liquor, and this makes you far less willing to try it yourself. “But that would require me letting you use a knife. I’d rather you not have one. I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Do you really think I’d try to kill you?” You frown, finally glancing up at the man and his olive eyes from behind his glasses. “You know that I wouldn’t. I’m not stupid. Even if I could, I’m still stuck here. Someone would eventually notice, and I’d get killed as well.”

“It’s interesting that you immediately gravitate toward the word ‘kill’ rather than ‘hurt’,” Yosuke observes, smirking. He then chuckles. “I suppose it is foolish to think you have the strength to kill me anyway. Unless, of course, you’d like to tell me that you could do it without issue. You seem to have no problem fighting back with your fists to some extent, for as physically weak as you are to really be of any threat that way. But killing is an entirely different game.”

This casual delivery of such a grim statement makes you stop for a moment and stare at your doctor with unease.

“You say that like you know what it’s like to do it,” you note, your voice shaking just slightly. Yosuke merely smiles.

“I don’t,” he tells you. “I’ve never needed to. Besides, there’s people here to do the killing for me if I ever do need it. You’ve already met them. Whether they do, however, depends on them. I don’t exactly call the shots.”

You’re severely put off by this.

“How could you just say all this so easily?” You question him. “Do you care if other people die? Do you even care if you die?”

“Most everyone does, my pet,” Yosuke answers you bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. You notice he evades your first question, but you’re sure you already know the answer to it.

The light of the candles causes gradients of shadow to bob and bounce along the top of Yosuke’s forehead and along parts of his neck and shoulders.

“The trick is really knowing when to let go of your fear of dying and look forward to something else,” he tells you. “Existential dread is truly something fierce. We often live our lives trying to avoid facing it. Distractions, personal connections, hobbies, substance abuse—whether healthy or unhealthy, all are methods of achieving this.”

“So you do know what it’s like to be afraid, then?” You narrow your eyes and look down while gripping your fork tightly. Yosuke merely chuckles.

“Of course I do,” he tells you as-a-matter-of-factly, looking on at the flame dancing before him “Especially when I was younger, I had considered grim topics like this. Even in my adult life, the thought of death and dying had crossed my mind. Many of us have faced this conversation. This problem, if you will. Still, your outlook may change when you lose someone you love, when you read about death in a book or see it media.”

He shifts his gaze toward you, giving a knowing glance.

“When you watch someone die. It all depends on the person and the circumstance, Ten.”

Yosuke then takes another quiet and polite bite of his food, and you continue to glower slightly in his silence. You’re sure he’s hinting at your dealing with Jay’s death, but this makes you want to drop the topic entirely now. Maybe discussing death with Yosuke isn’t exactly the best idea.

Despite the pause in your dining, you silently take a few more bites of your scallops before finishing them off entirely and moving onto your greens.

“Yosuke,” you speak up after a brief quiet. Your doctor merely flickers his eyes in your direction when you say his name, but says nothing. You feel strange asking him this question, but the topic of Yosuke when he was young strangely prods at your curiosity. “…What exactly were you even like back then?”

“Back when, dear?”

You sigh. “I guess when you were younger. I don’t know. Forget it.”

You shove another bit of asparagus in your mouth to shut yourself up, but Yosuke chuckles at the embarrassed gesture in amusement. He sips his drink once more and sets it on the table.

“There’s a lot I prefer not to say,” he admits. “And a lot I should probably avoid talking about. Even so, what exactly are you expecting to hear? A tragic childhood? A sob story? Come, now.”

“I don’t know, alright?” You scowl. “I just…I don’t know who you are. You at least owe me some kind of explanation if I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life. With you, anyway.”

“I owe you now?” Yosuke smirks to himself. “How bold of you to say. I think you just want to know because you’re either hoping to cling to something positive in order to justify any positive reactions you’ve had to me in some meager attempt at self-assurance, or reaffirm a negative belief of me you have in order to justify your hatred of me.”

“That’s…” You blush in embarrassment at this analysis. He isn’t exactly wrong that you might end up doing so, even though neither option was your original intention. Still, seeing as you’re not going to get anywhere, you drop this subject as well.

“Fine, I have another question then,” you mutter. “One not so personal.”

“Mm?” Your doctor continues to smirk as he drinks a little bit more and stares at you from behind his glass. You look up at Yosuke straightforwardly and furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are you doing this for me?” You demand of him. “You said just before that this ‘wasn’t exactly romantic’. So obviously you want it to be. Why?”

Yosuke laughs deeply.

“My pet, I do adore your naiveite,” he teases. “I only wanted to make our time together special. After all, we’re stuck here. We might as well make do, have a little fun. Don’t you prefer to do so?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call being with you fun,” you mutter, taking another bite of asparagus. Still, Yosuke remains unmoved by this statement and continues to speak.

“I wanted you to experience being on a date, my dear,” he explains with a smile. “I figured it was a good opportunity to give it a try. You do know what a date is, right?”

“Of course I do!” you shoot back, blushing between bites. “I just don’t know if I’ve ever…”

You sigh and don’t bother to finish your statement. You certainly hope Yosuke isn’t your first date.

“I suppose things like going to the movies or taking an evening stroll are more traditional,” Yosuke ponders, lightly waving around his fork. “Still, dinner dates are fairly common. There are really a multitude of ways to enjoy time with those you love out in the real world.”

“Doesn’t that imply both parties have to mutually love one another?” You ask without hesitation, hoping that this will upset Yosuke. Unfortunately, it does little to affect him. He merely smiles gently at you.

“My pet, you know very little about love and romance,” he criticizes. Even his lulling tone does little to soften the blow. “And even less about dating. You’re still young and inexperienced. But I suppose that’s what I find so charming about you. You’re an endearing little thing.”

You stay still a moment, staring down at the table and watching the light of the flames dance around and lick at the surface of it. You hate being spoken to like this. You don’t want to acknowledge your doctor’s comments now.

“Yosuke, why do you treat me the way you do?” You ask, still watching the dancing light and shadows. “Why do you always hurt me? If you had at least tried to be kinder…”

“You’d have fallen for me?” Yosuke chuckles, finishing your sentence for you when you refuse to finish it yourself. “You don’t realize just how kindly I’ve treated you, my pet. I could easily hurt you, as I’ve said before. I could treat you like Milos or Lilah treat others. Even the way Micah does. Would you prefer that?”

“Of course not.” You drop your fork slightly. “I don’t trust people like Jonathan or Nathaniel, but even they seem to care more about me than you do. And even Gale did for a while.”

“Gale still does care about you, despite what you may think,” Yosuke corrects, taking another bite of his food. He seems to remain unmolested by this conversation. The topics are just casual banter to him. It’s disgusting.

“And, well, I can’t help you playing favorites,” the man goes on. “Most of the girls here are fond of those two. Something about gentlemen like them drives women wild. But you forget that they’re not your doctors. And even they aren’t perfect. They still use you, dear. They still enjoy it.”

“I know that.” Your fingers tighten on the handle of your fork, despite you remaining still otherwise. “I don’t trust any of you. But why can’t you just be kind to me? If you really cared about me, you’d show it to me more. All you ever do is take advantage of me.”

“Because your role is to be taken advantage of.” Yosuke glances at you and smiles. “I have my reasons for what I do. Fascination, perhaps. I get enjoyment out of it. But remember that I can easily completely hurt you if I so choose. You underestimate me. You overlook the kindness I do show you. I could easily have let you get hurt by Milos and Lilah. I could very easily have hit or beat you myself. Even when I have to remind you that you’re mine in some instances, I do try to comfort you in certain times of distress when I can. You don’t think I take care of you, pet? You’re very wrong to think so.”

Yosuke chuckles.

“You want desperately to villainize me just so you can avoid feeling the way you do about me. But I see how you act. I notice every movement you make, every expression, every tremble. You recoil from my touch because you don’t want to melt in it, yet you often do anyway.”

Your eyes widen slightly as your doctor explains this to you, teases you with his observations. Are you really so predictable? Still, your shock turns quickly to anger as you clench your free hand atop the table and scowl.

“Fine,” you give in, your tone sharp and furious. “You want me to be honest? Then yes. You do make my body feel good. I can’t help but react to everything you do, but that doesn’t mean a single fucking thing because I do the same with everyone. And even then, just because I feel good physically doesn’t mean I want to. I don’t want to like the things you do, and I don’t want to like you. I don’t love you. I don’t care about you at all. You can have my body all you like, but I’m never going to let you have the rest of me.”

Yosuke remains unshaken by your reaction to him and merely smiles as he sips his glass again. By now, the thing is half empty.

“You say all these things in an attempt to seem confident, yet I can tell you don’t really know how you feel,” He remarks knowingly. “You merely want to feel that way. But it’s more than that for you, isn’t it? You’re very reactive to me, my pet. Even when you want to believe you hate me, you can’t help but blush and swoon over the little things I do for you that aren’t despicable in your eyes. You want me to take care of you. You probably think about me even when I’m not around, don’t you?”

You merely stare at the man with upturned brows, your eyes wet but not threatening to cry. You’re not sad, but tense and frustrated. Perhaps even frightened.

Yosuke chuckles.

“You don’t even have to answer,” he says with amusement, swirling the liquid in his glass mindlessly. “I can see by the look on your face that I’m right.”

You don’t know how to respond to this, and your face merely grows red as you sit in frustrated silence and avoid Yosuke’s focus of you. You hate how much he seems to be able to tell. You can’t stand him knowing your vulnerabilities. You really are pathetic.

Yosuke doesn’t appear at all bothered by the silence, continuing to dine on his dish while allowing you the opportunity to reflect on things. You can’t stand being with him right now, yet you don’t know what to do about it. You wish you could just run away, but there’s nowhere to go.

Perhaps Yosuke made sure of that.

This thought makes your heart skip a beat, and your eyes again go slightly wide at realizing this.

“Yosuke,” you call again, “Did you do this on purpose? Did you lock us in here on purpose just to torment me?”

You look up at him then, furrowing your brows and scowling.

“Are you really that goddam desperate?”

“I didn’t do it out of desperation, my pet,” Yosuke answers you plainly, though this appears to be a blatant confirmation of your suggestion. “I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted you to have a romantic evening with me. I wanted to let you experience at least that much. I can’t exactly take you out of here, besides.”

“Don’t act like you did this for me!” You spit out, tightening your fist. “You did this for you!”

“Come, now,” your doctor chuckles. “You don’t have to be so dramatic. You get to wear a pretty dress and spend time with a man who loves you. I’m treating you like a princess. I’m risking my own safety just to make you happy. Any other girl would swoon over something like this, yet you seem adamant on fighting me.”

“Is Mom even here?” You demand, ignoring Yosuke’s comments. “Is she helping you do this?”

“Your mother has no idea what I’m doing,” is your doctor’s brief response. Despite your outburst and panicked state, he remains ever calm, sipping at his glass. “She’s asleep right now. She will be for a good while.”

Your eyes go wide. “What did you do to her?”

“Are you saying you suddenly care about her?” Yosuke chuckles. “You didn’t before. Still, she’s fine. Like I said, she’s just asleep. I didn’t hurt her. I never would unless I really had to. I merely put her to sleep. But like a gentleman ought to, I brought the woman to her bed. I’m not that heartless.”

“Bed…? Does she sleep here?” Your voice trembles. You’re shocked by this possibility, disturbed by it as much as you are by your doctor’s actions. You’re unsurprised he’d act against Mom despite saying he was grateful to her for getting him into the facility, especially since he's been crude and retaliative toward her before. But you're still taken aback by the fact that he’d do this in particular. Why go to such lengths just for you anyway? You can’t bring yourself to understand why he’d act so stupidly knowing how great a risk it poses, even when he’s cited being able to take the punishment as his sole defense for doing so.

“Yes,” is Yosuke’s mere, affirming response from behind his glass. “She has a place to go, but she much prefers to stay here. Not only because it’s easier, of course. As I’ve said before, she likes it here.”

He smiles.

“Now relax, Ten. You’re not in any danger. Just enjoy your time with me. You don’t have much of a choice anyway.”

You sigh. Technically, he’s correct. But you’re still upset and have every right to be. Even so, you try to calm yourself down and continue eating, still not entirely satiated yet. You do wonder what will happen to Yosuke now that he’s chosen to act out. He’d said he could handle his boss’ punishments, but you’re not sure whether that man will take Yosuke’s blatantly disrespectful actions lightly enough to do something simple, or harshly enough to do something drastic. Would Yosuke be killed for something like this? Even Mom with her blatantly disrespectful actions manages to get away with only physically painful retaliations. Your doctor had always said he followed orders and worked hard. Is that enough to save him from a harsher punishment?

“My pet, you’ve hardly touched your drink,” Yosuke comments, interrupting your thoughts. You glance over at the glass beside you upon hearing this, and pout.

“If it’s alcohol, I don’t want it,” you say firmly. “You know how I feel about it.”

“Liquor isn’t inherently evil, Ten,” Yosuke chides you. “It’s fine in moderation. Your experience with it wasn’t exactly favorable, I’m sure. But a little bit of sipping now and then hardly hurts. Some even say it’s good for your heart to do it in small amounts.”

“I don’t want it,” you repeat again, angrily shoving more asparagus in your mouth and keeping your eyes fixated on the table. Yosuke merely laughs lightly.

“Dear, at least give it a try,” he urges gently. “It’s not as strong as what you had. It’s light, and won’t at all affect you the way you think it will. It’s white wine. It’s meant to pair nicely with the food, after all.”

“Why is there even wine here to begin with?” you question, hoping to distract your doctor from his insistence. “We don’t get any, do we?”

“It’s not for our guests,” Is the man’s simple response. “The kitchen isn’t merely just for you, either. We have to eat too.”

“I figured you had some kind of dining hall upstairs or something,” you grumble, taking another bit of your food.

“We do have something like it for our employees aboveground,” Yosuke retorts with a nod. “But we also have a small little place here for those of us who have to work underground. It’s no grand cafeteria, but it’s feasible. See, maintaining this place takes a lot of work. I personally do things aboveground, but some of the doctors here work explicitly underground. Lilah, for instance.”

“Don’t remind me.” You glower. Thinking of her only vexes you. You’d rather not be reminded of Jay again, as you had been when you saw Lilah earlier.

“It’s just easier to have some nourishment closer to your workplace,” Yosuke continues with a chuckle. “But the wine is for us. Sometimes we need something to relax us. A glass now and then won’t get you drunk enough to impede your ability to work.”

“Your job’s hardly stressful,” you shoot out bitterly. “All you do is rape people and write a report about it.”

Yosuke sips his wine again and shrugs a shoulder. “Mm, I suppose I can’t blame you for seeing it that way. But there’s more to it than you could ever know. It’s hardly your business, though. In any case, Ten, please drink with me. I promise it’s fine.”

You sigh lightly. Your attempt to divert the conversation has evidently failed. Hesitantly, you unclench your fist and reach your hand over to the glass beside you. You grab it by its spindly, glass stem and bring it to your face. When you give the liquid a light sniff, you find it’s fairly sweet, though you can still slightly smell the alcohol. Certainly, it’s not as strong nor as unpleasant as whatever it is Milos gave you.

“Sip it just slightly,” Yosuke instructs you. “You don’t gulp down this sort of thing. You savor it. Of course, some people do drink it practically like water. I personally wouldn’t.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips. It’s a fragile thing, thin and delicate. You’re sure that if you accidentally bumped it against your teeth hard enough, or set the glass on the table too roughly, you’d break it so quickly.

Yosuke merely watches in amusement at your hesitation. Perhaps he finds it funny that you’re struggling to drink again after what happened, or maybe he thinks it’s amusing how naïve you are at things he sees as common knowledge. You know nothing of liquor, of dating, of anything really. It embarrasses you that you’re so stupid, but it makes you feel worse knowing that your doctor finds your lack of experience so entertaining. All he does is treat you like a child. But, thinking on it and on everything said to you by the other doctors you encountered today, maybe it’s because you act too much like one.

After hesitating so much, you finally let a bit of the wine into your mouth, sipping the drink as instructed. You immediately taste a sweetness you didn’t expect. Perhaps even a hint of fruitiness. Despite the viscosity of the drink, it has a tinge of dryness to it that you can’t exactly explain, but isn’t despicable or unpleasant. You almost like this. Certainly, it’s far better than whatever you had before.

“Is it good, my dear?” Yosuke smiles kindly. You blush slightly and look away, but nod. You’d rather not openly admit that you enjoy it, but suppose you’ll at least tell your doctor it’s not awful.

“I’ve always enjoyed a light drink now and again,” Your doctor admits, sipping his wine. “I’d hardly consider myself a connoisseur of wine, though. It’s not exactly a hobby of mine.”

Supposing that the wine is harmless now, you decide to continue drinking it, being careful to sip the stuff like Yosuke so as not to gulp it down too quickly. After a few sips, you hardly even really taste the alcohol in it at all. The sweetness is overpowering to you. You much prefer it this way.

“Do you have any hobbies outside of sex?” You bitterly question. This makes Yosuke laugh.

“Of course,” he answers honestly. “I used to love a lot of things when I was a boy. Baseball, music, literature. I may not look the type, but I played in a baseball team for one of my schools once. I hardly ever thought I’d become a doctor then.”

“What were you expecting to become?”

“I don’t quite know,” Yosuke ponders this. “I was in so many different programs, did so many different things. I practically had my pick of the litter. I could have been anything I liked. Strangely, I settled on the medical field.”

“And when exactly did you settle on ‘psycho rapist doctor’?” You lower a brow, sipping more of your wine.

“Oh, my dear,” Yosuke laughs, completely unbothered by this biting statement. “You think I became who I am now overnight? Of course it took time. I told you that I was a lot more adamant about my work before coming here. So much so that it was droll. Routine. I’d dated a few times as a younger boy, but my social life dwindled the moment I dedicated myself to studying. But I don’t necessarily regret who I became. I enjoy being here. Again, I partially have your mother to thank. Had we never dated, I’d never have transitioned into who I am now. Others may disagree, but I find I’m far less stiff and stressed than I used to be.”

You pause in the middle of another drink.

“You dated?” You’re not sure why this shocks you, but you don’t’ remember Yosuke ever mentioning they’d done anything more than engage one another sexually. As if confirming this, your doctor answers,

“I never said what exactly we did, dear.” He sips his wine as well. By now, the both of you seem to have finished eating entirely. “I merely said we got closer. Even then, it wasn’t a romantic thing. It was purely sexual. You can date people you don’t love, Ten. You can be attracted to people in ways other than romantic. That’s why I consider you so naïve on the matter.”

He laughs deeply when you stare at him with a concerned expression. You’re not sure why the idea of him and Mom together is so strange and difficult to process. To think of them going on casual dates together is almost unthinkable. Sex is one thing, but that’s something else. Even if you’re being told it wasn’t romantic, there’s something intimate about the concept of dating that makes you wary of what you’re being told, even if it is true.

“I brought her home once or twice,” Yosuke raises a brow. “If you must know. It was exciting for a while, but it hardly lasted. I grew sick of it fairly quickly. Your mother was and still is a respectable doctor who does good work, but she’s clingy and overbearing. I couldn’t bring myself to like it.”

“You seem to grow sick of people easily,” you note, scowling now. “Eight too. Maybe even me someday, right? If I fight back against you enough, or if I just act like a stupid little obedient lapdog long enough for my behavior to be routine and predictable, you’ll eventually get tired of me.”

“Of course I won’t, my pet,” Yosuke chuckles. You sip your wine more, drinking it bitterly as you look away from him again. Nothing you can say will get under his skin, it seems. Nothing you do changes him.

“You entice me,” Yosuke continues with a smirk. “You’re able to give me what nobody else has been able to. Were you anyone else, I might not find your resistance so charming. I might even find your childish outbursts annoying. But something about you is far different. I want to take care of you just as you want me to take care of you. I don’t find it troublesome to have you by my side. Eight was someone who was too stubborn for his own good. You are not. Even if you’d like to be.”

“You and Eight are alike in too many ways,” you point out, avoiding focusing on your doctor’s other remarks. “I don’t understand how he wasn’t perfect for you.”

“He’s nothing like me,” Yosuke shakes his head. “I thought so too, to be honest. Consider my decision to take him under my wing narcissism if you like. Perhaps I had hopes for him. But I’ve found we’re very different. He’s far too resilient anyway. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t just been tossed aside by this point. Nobody seems to like him much.”

“Don’t say that!” You shout back. “You wouldn’t just get rid of him. There are a few people who still like him, right? Even Jonathan had said…”

“Do you care about him, Ten?” Yosuke laughs in amusement as you trail off, swirling the rest of the wine in his glass before taking another light sip. “Naturally, a sweet girl like you would have a big heart. He’s not the kind of person to really care about others himself, though.”

“That’s not true.”

Yosuke raises a brow. “Isn’t it? You say this as if you know him well. Are you getting along with him? Bonding with him?”

You lower your eyes and say nothing, but your doctor chuckles when he reads your face.

“I see,” he says with a knowing smile. “Is there something in particular that drew you to him, my pet?”

“Don’t start with me,” You grip your wine glass firmly, but make the effort not to shatter it. “I know what you’re going to say. But you don’t understand. He’s a victim of all of this like me. Like all the Numbers. I want him to be a good friend to us. And you’re right—he’s not a thing like you. You’re vile. Despicable. Even he is capable of kindness in a way you could never be.”

“Is he another young man you’ve fallen for, dear?” Yosuke teases. “Are you truly so selfish that one isn’t enough?”

“Stop it,” you wince. “I don’t like him that way. He’s a friend.”

“Is One ‘a friend’ as well? Are there even others you love that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t lo-”

“Are you truly so selfish that you want everyone’s attention?” Yosuke interrupts you, chuckling from behind his glass as he watches you intently. This remark makes you slam your glass onto the table, but you luckily don’t break the thing.

“Yosuke, enough!” You cry, shutting your eyes. “Please, just stop!”

The both of you go silent for a moment, and you pant lightly as you recover from your furious outburst. When you open your eyes again, all you can focus on are the flickering orange hues along the table. By now, the makeshift candles are almost completely burnt down to the base. It won’t be long before you have to return to the dim light of the room. Despite the inviting warmness of the candlelight, you’d rather be back in the darkness anyway after this entire conversation.

You continue to say nothing, but rise to your feet and pick up your wine glass. Angrily, you slam down the rest of the substance, sucking it into your mouth and gulping it down. In moments, you empty your cup entirely, not caring to take your time with it any longer.

“There, I’m done,” you bitterly tell Yosuke. You wipe your lips of the wine using your bare forearm, then turn to leave. However, Yosuke rises as well and calls your name. Despite your anger, you stop and await what he has to say. Your doctor makes his way to you and places his hands on your upper arms, holding you gently.

“I apologize for hurting you,” he says softly. “I suppose I can be a bit straightforward in my observations. But understand that I do care about you. You worry me, Ten. That’s all.”

“Don’t try to act like you suddenly care,” you scowl, whipping yourself around and staring your doctor down angrily. “You can’t just say those things about me and pretend an apology makes it fine. And it’s not even a real apology. For as much as you know about me from spending time with me, I can sense things of you too. I know that your words are empty. You just want to keep a hold on me. You want to break me, and I’m not going to let you.”

“Resist as much as you like, Ten,” Yosuke chuckles, making no attempts to refute your claim. He leans in and kisses your forehead. “It doesn’t change what I know is true of you.”

At once, the candles on the table snuff out, the once plentiful supply of wax and burnable paper exhausted by now. You and your doctor are again left in the dim dark of the room.

“Just shut up,” You mutter, finally opting to break away from your doctor, yanking your body away from his touch. “Some ‘date’ this was. All you did was hurt me. There’s no romance in that.”

“Well, the date’s not over yet, is it?” Yosuke questions, persisting in touching you. He curls a finger under your chin and smiles. “There’s still time to make it right, surely.”

Despite your frustration, you look at Yosuke with confusion. However, your doctor continues.

“Head to the music room for me, dear, and wait for me,” he instructs, gently touching your lower lip with his thumb. “I’ll clean up here and meet you there shortly.”

You’d rather not, but figure Yosuke will probably force you there himself if he so pleases. You’re in no mood. You say nothing, but walk out of the cafeteria the moment your doctor drops his hand, feigning obedience to his word when you merely just want to get away from him, even if it’s only for a bit. You can take his incessant teasing, but every time he brings up your friends, you can’t help but be furious. Not only that, but for him to insinuate that you’re desperate for attention makes you feel like shit. You aren’t selfish, you aren’t cruel, you aren’t desperate. You’ve fought about this with yourself too many times before. You just want things to be okay. Even if Yosuke can tell this much of you, he still insists on making his horrible comments, knowing full well that it bothers you and only finding delight in teasing you.

In the hall, you again look at the metal gate and scowl. Angrily, you storm toward it and grab a bar with both hands. You attempt to furiously pry at the thing, groaning and grunting with each stubborn tug. Still, the gate does not budge, and so you slam your fist on the metal surface. You feel tears threatening to drip down from your eyes, but they don’t yet. No, you don’t want to cry again. You’re so tired of crying. At once, you try to envision Eight’s reaction to seeing you. What would he even say?

“Don’t be such a baby”? Or perhaps “Don’t let him take control of you”?

You can’t think straight. You’re far too frustrated now. Still, even if it would feel good to cry, you suppose it’s better not to let Yosuke see you doing it. He might find it entertaining, or use your tears against you. Angrily, you try to wipe your eyes of any stray forming drops with your forearm and do what you can to compose yourself. In moments, you are able to stifle your feelings and stop your tears. Not wanting to linger here now, you continue on to the music room.

You half-expect to see Eight there like you usually do, but the area is entirely empty. It’s lifeless and cold.

Quietly, you mosey over to the backmost shelves, looking at a few of the instrument accessories. They’re things you absolutely don’t recognize, and if anyone asked you to pinpoint which instruments needed what device, you wouldn’t be able to.

After a moment of fiddling with random objects, you hear the music room doors open again, and you drop your hands from the cabinets while heaving a deep sigh. You have to focus now. Whatever you do, it’s in your best interest to stay strong and steadfast in your resistance of the man. Be bitter, be crude if you have to. Don’t let him see your weaknesses. He’s done nothing but read you openly this whole night, after all. Even before today, he’s managed to do so with ease.

“Is there something specific that interests you?” Yosuke’s voice calls out from behind you, followed by the sounds of his slow, steady steps as he makes his way further into the room. “Do you know how to play any of the instruments here?”

“No,” you answer bluntly, refusing to turn around. “I don’t have the same musical talent others do.”

“Has any instrument interested you?”

Again, you answer “no”, even though that’s not entirely accurate. You just insist on being difficult, though you’re sure Yosuke will catch onto this quickly. Truthfully, you’re not sure what instrument fancies you. You’ve rather liked the sound of most you’ve heard, but aren’t sure about others that are available here.

Yosuke chuckles as he approaches you. Rather than stand behind you, he stands to your left and mindlessly picks up a random accessory from the shelf. You can’t avoid glancing at him from the corner of your eye, which is likely what he intended.

“My dear, is there a single thing you know how to do?” He questions lightly, trying not to offend you by accidentally implying you’re stupid. You’re sure he wouldn’t outwardly refer to you this way, but you also wouldn’t put it past yourself to interpret his straightforwardness that way either. The man does baby you, after all. But he’s no stranger to insult, as he’s clearly shown.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, refusing to turn your head to look at Yosuke blatantly. “But even if I was good at something, I don’t exactly remember it. You people took that away from me.”

“Are you still upset by that?” Yosuke laughs, putting the object in his hands back in its place. “You seem to have cultivated a nice circle of friends here, even amidst all that’s been done to you. Do you really want to go back?”

“I at least have the right to know who I was,” You shoot back, gripping an object that looks like some kind of a clamp. It’s marked as CAPO, but you have no idea what that means. You’re not sure what it’s for, but it feels good in your hand now that you’re mad enough to grip something so tightly.

“I just want the option, Yosuke,” you tell your doctor with weariness in your voice. “Of course I wouldn’t give up the good relationships I’ve fostered here. But I just want to know. Was I a good person? Was I happy? I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to know.”

“The answer to that isn’t mine to give, really,” your doctor says bluntly as he walks away from you. “Besides, you’d be even more upset knowing you can’t go back to your old life, should it have happened to be good or have good in it. The old you died the moment you woke up here. You’ve been repurposed. You know this.”

“Why?” Your voice becomes sullen now, and you let your grip on the clamp-like object loose before tossing it back into where you found it, among other accessories.

“Asking isn’t going to get you anywhere,” is your doctor’s only reply. “Now why don’t you relax, my pet? We have all night to be here. As I’ve said, we might as well enjoy ourselves a little.”

You then turn your head to where Yosuke is and raise a brow when you see him. He’s standing by the piano, and has already removed the cloth cover that had been placed over the thing to protect it. Now, he’s trying to open the beast of an instrument. You’d not had a chance to really ogle it before, but it’s magnificent looking. Glossy and black. Grand. It’s in the name, after all.

“You know how to play…?” You’re almost guessing when you ask this. You’re caught off guard by the possibility entirely, even though it had been mentioned Yosuke had some affinity for music just a little while ago.

“Mm? Yes, I do,” Your doctor mindlessly answers you as he preps the piano. “I said I was into music at some point. I played orchestral instruments. Dabbled briefly in a small variety, but always had an affinity for the piano. It was the one instrument that stuck with me. I admit, I’m a tad out of practice. With the work I do, there’s not often time to. But I still enjoy it.”

“…You really are like him,” You frown. Despite not wanting to bring it up again, you can’t help but observe and comment on this.

“I suppose we did share a few common interests,” Yosuke looks up in thought as he finishes preparing the piano. He seems to know who you’re referring to without you having to explicitly say who. “I remember seeing a slight glint in his eye when I brought music into the conversation. It wasn’t often, but even someone as stubborn as him is easy to read if you know just what to look for. Of all the things he refused to talk to me about, he let it slip that he knew how to play the violin. I suppose I admire that much about him. He’s a smart young man. It would be unsurprising that he’d have talent as well. But I’ve never heard him play, and I don’t suppose I’ll get to.”

You don’t bother to respond to this, not wanting to get riled up again. You continue to look away from your doctor, staring instead at the rich purple floor. In the dim light, it looks even darker, its rich tones almost lost entirely.

You’re taken aback as You hear light metal scraping along the floor, the sound of a chair being dragged, you suppose. When you glance toward the source of the noise, you can catch sight of Yosuke bringing a lone chair closer to the steps leading up to the raised platform where the piano is. He doesn’t position it very close, but certainly close enough. Once he’s put the chair in its place, Yosuke moves towards you and sweetly curls his fingers under your chin, lifting it gently and smiling endearingly at you.

“Come, my dear,” he coos. “Sit for me, won’t you? You’ll be my audience.”

You move your head away and say nothing, but let the man take your hand in his and gently lead you to the chair. Smoothing out the hanging skirt of your dress, you sit down and keep your knees pressed together so as to avoid showing anything unwanted off.

Yosuke smiles at you while running his hand along your cheek, then turns to make his way toward the piano. As he takes his place on the bench, you place your hands in your lap and curl your fingers in your palms. Your doctor’s ruining everything for you by being in this place. The same way Mom tainted several of the places you knew of, Yosuke is starting to do the same. You no doubt will feel uncomfortable coming back here later. Hopefully the discomfort won’t last too long.

Suddenly, you’re shaken out of your thoughts by the loud sounds of piano keys being hit. You jump in fear at the sudden instrumental intrusion and end up putting a hand over your quick-beating heart. Yosuke plays a quick lively melody, his fingers working along the keys of the piano quickly and his feet pressing against the gold pedals on the floor every so often. After his brief warm-up melody ends, he turns his head toward you and laughs. His laughter is almost genuine, and not unnerving as it tends to be.

“Did I scare you, dear?” He asks from slightly above you.

“I-I wasn’t expecting it to be so loud,” you admit, flustered as you try to calm your heart down. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a piano up close before.”

“The room could be a bit bigger for such a grand thing,” Yosuke notes, smiling to himself. “But it’s feasible.”

He straightens his back up and repositions his hands along the white keys again, hovering over them. Without hesitation, he begins to play yet again. However, this time he tries a softer piece of music. As with many songs you’ve heard in this room, it’s not one you’re familiar with. The melody he plays is gentle, but almost sad. You can’t help but feel moved by it. Something about the tone of it resonates in your heart. The booming sound of the instrument reverberating against the walls even feels as though it’s invading your body.

As you watch your doctor shift his hands and fingers along the keys, you’re shocked to find how gracefully he moves. Every change in position is poised. It’s controlled and precise, but flowing and harmonious. Yosuke’s olive eyes remain fixated on the keys as he plays, and you watch as his feet press against the piano’s pedals sweetly. You can’t help but close your eyes hearing this music. It’s lulling, despite the strong sounds of the instrument bouncing off the walls. You almost feel yourself nodding off in the strange peace it brings you.

You aren’t sure just how long the song really is, but after a good while, Yosuke brings it to a close and plays the final notes of the melody. When it’s over, you open your eyes and look up at him, your mouth slightly open as if you intend to speak. Though, you’re not sure what to really say. The man doesn’t deserve your compliments. Even if the song was lovely, it was produced by such a despicable person.

“I hadn’t expected to pull it off so accurately,” Yosuke muses. “But it is familiar. I used to play this song quite often as practice, but enjoyed the melody in general.”

“Why didn’t you just become a musician instead?” You question. Rather than complimenting the man, you remain adamant on being difficult and snappy with him. You won’t give him a reason to tease you. “Or a baseball player? Or anything other than what you are now?”

“I told you that I enjoy what I do, Ten,” is your doctor’s quick response. Despite your tone toward him, Yosuke’s smile remains unwavering as he stares at you from the piano bench. Not once does he remove his hands from the keys. “I’m sure you’d like to ask if I ever thought what we were doing here was wrong.”

“Yes, I would.”

Yosuke turns back to the piano and begins to play once more, though he merely tinkers lightly with the keys as he finishes speaking with you, so that he doesn’t wholly interrupt the conversation.

“The thought crossed my mind once or twice,” He admits without breaking his smile. “But I found myself enjoying it here. Even if I struggled to find my place, I felt it was far better than whatever I was doing before. And now that I have you, I have no reason to ever want to go back to my old life. Even if I did, it’s a fruitless desire.”

“Does your boss threaten you?” You ask intently, almost leaning in as you await the answer. Yosuke merely chuckles.

“In a manner of speaking, you can consider his disallowance of leaving this place behind a threat,” he tells you bluntly. “He wants to be sure we’ll stay silent about this place and obedient to him. Even so, most of us are happy here. Grateful for what it gives. We have everything we need and want. I see no reason why anyone would want out.”

“…Most?” Your eyes widen. “There are doctors who don’t want to be here?”

“Some people have regrets, Ten,” Yosuke says bluntly, his voice low. He hits another key before halting in his light playing. “Those people hardly last, especially when they’re stubborn and don’t let go of their feelings. But life is difficult that way. We often have to live with our choices, or at least pretend that we’re able to. That’s that.”

He turns to you and smiles sweetly, stopping his playing a moment.

“Now that’s enough of that talk, my pet,” he coos. “You shouldn’t pry. Besides, it’s hardly a conversation to have on a date with a beautiful girl. Shall I play another song for you? Something gentler and sweeter, perhaps?”

His cutting off of the conversation upsets you, but you know it’s foolish to try pressing for more information. Instead of answering, you remain silent and sit there expectantly while refusing to look up again. You’re starting to feel exhausted by all of this. Even though you don’t want to hear a beautiful song from a man like Yosuke, you admit that maybe it’ll help alleviate your stress just for a little bit. If anything, you can try focusing only on the music, not anything else. It seems to work for Eight.

Seeing that you’re opting to remain in silence now, Yosuke assumes he’s free to play again and begins to do so. As with the previous song, he makes gentle movements, though they’re slower this time as the melody he plays is not only gentle, but peaceful and slow. Serene, even. Despite the earlier loudness of the piano’s notes, Yosuke manages to churn out a pretty song that’s lighter than air. You admit, it’s beautiful.

You end up closing your eyes once more, taking in the song and attempting to separate its beauty from your doctor. After a while of sitting there in musical bliss, you find yourself so lulled that you almost feel as though you’re ready to pass out.

You don’t understand why you’re so tired all of a sudden when you just napped. No—this feels far more intense than mere tiredness, you think. You open your eyes again and find that you struggle to do so easily. Your head starts to feel groggy, and your body heavy.

It occurs to you now that you’ve been drugged.

Your heart beats faster upon realizing this, but you can’t bring yourself to react outwardly with how weak you’re starting to feel. You try to figure out if you’re being drugged with gas, but when you shift your gaze up at Yosuke, he seems completely unaffected the way you are. His piano playing continues, the sweet notes of the instrument now haunting you as you silently fight your urge to pass out. Why are you feeling this now? Did Yosuke poison your food? No, he had to have put something in your drink, you figure. He’d been adamant about you trying it.

You shut your eyes again and scorn yourself for drinking the wine at all. Still, you’re sure Yosuke would have forced you to drink it if he really wanted you to. You’re absolutely certain by now that the man put something in there. The liquid form of the anesthetic, maybe? You do feel the way you did before with Jonathan, and you recall it taking a while for the drug to work. With the drug’s lack of flavor or odor, it’s no wonder you couldn’t detect it.

You’re such a fucking idiot. You even gulped the entire glass down in anger. Maybe you could have avoided this if you hadn’t. Maybe if you’d broken the glass instead…

With your eyes closed now and you fading fast, it’s become difficult to stay sitting up. Still, you open your eyes slowly and try to rise. It’s not until you finally do that you realize just how badly you’re being affected by the drug. In moments of rising, you promptly fall to the floor, your legs too weak to support you. Despite your panicked heartbeat, you feel yourself going completely numb, unable to move, unable to focus. You want to call out to your doctor in anger, but you can’t even bring yourself to speak. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you suck in panicked, shallow breaths, with your cheek pressed against the floor as you try to stay awake. However, you are soon unable to keep your eyes open. Your body slowly succumbs to its slumber, with all senses dulled. Only your hearing remains in your last moments of consciousness, though everything’s starting to sound utterly muffled now.

The last thing you can hear before fading away is the sweet sounds of the piano’s lull.

Chapter 49: Visit Twenty Three - Enamored

Unexpectedly, you awake back in the theater, in the position you’d been in when you last fell asleep here. Unlike before where you awoke peacefully, you immediately shoot up, gasping for air and feeling a cold sweat on your skin. Have you been dreaming this whole time like you’d initially hoped?

You turn your head to the right, toward the stage. The lights are bright as ever. Nothing seems to have changed. Except…

You can see Lav and Cyrus up on stage, strangely. Both have the prop swords you remember seeing used by the twins when you watched them perform. Neither of the two appear to acknowledge you, in fact it looks as though they’re focused on engaging in a playful battle with one another, trying to maneuver their legs and arms, watching each another intently to find the right time to jab and strike one another with their pretend swords. They’re both smiling and laughing at their game, saying something to each other that you can’t hear. The only audible noise between them that you can distinguish from where you are is the sound of their laughter together.

This sight confuses you. Have you just been asleep this whole time? Was Yosuke’s discomforting attempts at romancing you just a figment of your twisted imagination? You don’t know what to make of it now. In part, you’d like to believe you just fell asleep too hard and that everyone opted to come find you in your slumber. But where are the other Numbers in that case? Did they stay behind?

“You sleep too much,” a voice calls from behind you, somewhere on the long bed. Jumping at the familiar chiding voice, you turn your body to face the stage and look to your right. Sitting there with one knee up and one arm resting upon it is Eight. He appears to be staring off into the distance in the direction of the stage, intently watching Cyrus and Lav’s play battle. “But I guess there’s not much else to do right now.”

“What’s going on?” You question the young man, placing your hands in your lap and extending your legs out on the bed. “How long was I asleep?”

“You think I know?” Eight scoffs. “I have no awareness of time here. Nobody really does.”

“I guess maybe Cyrus did at some point,” You mull it over, recalling being told by the twins that he’d counted his days in the facility for a short while before ceasing. “Speaking of which, why did you guys come over here?”

“Don’t know,” Eight shrugs a shoulder, his gaze still focused on the stage. “You know how they are. They like to make sure you’re okay.”

“Don’t you?” You half-laugh. Eight scowls.

“Don’t ask me that kind of thing. You know how it makes me feel.”

“I guess I do,” you admit with a weak smile. “Anyway, I’m really glad to be here. I had a shitty dream.”

“About Yosuke again?” Eight guesses. He finally glances over at you, flickering his green eyes in your direction. You give a light “yeah”, frowning.

“He trapped me here and tried to take me on some ‘date’. It was pretty disgusting.”

You sigh.

“I don’t know why he’d do something like that. I mean, I don’t know why he does a lot of the things he does.”

“Because he’s obsessed with you, Ten,” Eight sharply responds, flickering his eyes back to the stage. “You know far better than to ask why.”

“I know, just…”

You trail off, not sure how to finish your sentence. You heave a heavy sigh and lean back against the angled portion of the bed.

“Eight, am I stupid?” You question with weariness in your voice. “Am I a selfish or bad person? I’ve asked myself this before. Sometimes I end up thinking that I must have done something wrong to deserve this. I don’t understand why I or anyone else have to suffer like this. Here.”

“No,” is the young man’s simple response. His tone is far less bitter now. “You haven’t done anything wrong, and you’re not stupid. You’re smarter than that, Ten. Don’t lower yourself so much. You know where that gets you.”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a frown. “I’m getting tired of being here. It feels like it’s been forever. So much has happened, so much has hurt me. I don’t know…”

“You just have to try to stay afloat, that’s all,” Eight answers you without hesitation. He’s being unusually kind now, if still a bit straightforward and stern with his tone. He then nods his head up toward the stage, motioning to it. “Besides, both of them would prefer to see you smile. To see you survive.”

You look up at the stage and continue to watch Lav and Cyrus jovially battle one another, still smiling and laughing all the while. They seem happy together.

“What about you, Eight?” You ask the Number beside you. “What would you prefer?”

Eight pouts and grumbles. “Don’t make me say it.”

The both of you fall silent for just a moment, watching the two Numbers on stage. However, you’re soon taken by surprise by Eight as he pushes you down and lightly pins your wrists to the bed, making your eyes go wide and your face slightly redden.

“W-what are you doing?” You stammer, unsure of how to feel about this action. Eight looks down at you with intense focus and lowers his brows.

“It’s not me,” he tells you, narrowing his eyes and looking away. “It’s him.”

Your mouth opens slightly in shock as you realize what’s going on now.

“This is a dream,” your voice shakes. No, you wanted this to be real. You don’t want to have to go back to Yosuke now.

“You should wake up,” Eight tells you, his voice firm. “You’ll have to eventually.”

“I don’t want to!” You shoot back, a tear streaming down your cheek. You don’t feel as though you’ll start crying fully, but you’re so frustrated now that the drop merely spills out. “He’s just going to use me!”

“Of course he is,” Eight glances back at you now, still holding your wrists. “You just have to hold on as best you can and not let your stupid pleasure take over your sense of individuality. There’s not much else you can do.”

“Eight, please…” You beg. “I don’t want to wake up.”

Eight stares at you for a moment, assessing your face. He seems stern, yet his eyes almost reflect worriedness. It’s subtle, but it comforts you to know he cares. Even if this version of Eight isn’t real, you’re sure the real version of him isn’t as detached as he seemed when you first met him.

“You don’t really have much of a choice,” he finally tells you, lightly shaking his head. You lay there a moment, your heart beating rapidly as Eight hovers atop you. However, you blink slowly and find yourself surrounded by bright light, with the bed’s awning, Eight, and everything else around you now completely gone.

You squint your eyes in reaction to the light shining in them, but find that you can’t move your arm up to shield yourself from it. Your heart’s quickened pace does not once falter as you try to assess where you are, unsure of what to expect after being drugged by your doctor.

Eventually, your eyes adjust to the light, and you’re able to gather that you’re in the gardens. The planters tower above you, meaning you’re on the floor. Laying on…what?

You’re unable to move your body. You don’t really feel any sort of restraints holding you back or still, rather you merely can’t move. Likely because of the drug. Assessing this causes your breathing to quicken, your mind subsequently going into a light panic now. Desperately, you try to make sense of what you can feel and see and hear. You try to list off what you can gather:

You’re in the gardens. You’ve been drugged by your doctor and he’s brought you here, likely to rape you. You can’t move your body. Your left arm is bent outward and slightly above you, and the back of your hand is pressed into a cushion of some sort.

What about your right arm?

It’s bent over your body, with your hand resting over your stomach. You can feel that you’re still clothed in what you were wearing when you passed out, at least. Your head is resting on something cushioned. There’s a wet sensation on your cheek—

Huh?

You realize then that you’d teared up a bit in reality as well as in your dream. You’re not even entirely sure why you teared up to begin with. Was it frustration or fear?

Despair.

You shut your eyes hearing Gale’s voice resonate the word in your head. You don’t want to have to think about this or them. Not now.

Suddenly, you hear a set of doors opening, and your eyes shoot open. Correctly, you assume it’s the garden entrance. Yosuke emerges in moments, stepping slowly down the row of planters to reach you. He stops once he’s standing before your feet, and you look up upon him with a horrified expression.

Your doctor smiles gently at you, trying to be reassuring, but knowing full well that you know what’s going to happen soon.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?” He questions sweetly. “You were out for quite a bit. I had intended for you to sleep just long enough for me to set this up for you. I do hope it’s comfortable enough.”

He laughs to himself.

“I wasn’t expecting you to gulp down all the wine in your glass so suddenly. I told you to take sips, after all. I didn’t want it to hit you as suddenly and as strongly as it did.”

You try to open your mouth to speak, but find that you can’t. In fact, you feel much like you did the first time you came to the facility, if a bit worse. This familiar sensation and scenario only horrifies you more.

“My pet, you’re going to be a bit numb for a while,” Yosuke tells you gently. He takes a knee beside you, his leg pressing into the cushiony thing underneath your body. You’re starting to assume it’s some of the couch cushions from the rec room. “Perhaps you’ll regain your speech soon, but you may not be mobile again until much later.”

Yosuke rubs the back of his hand along the cheek your stray tear had been on, though your skin has dried by this point.

“I gave you a very strong dose of the anesthetic,” Your doctor continues, keeping his voice low and gentle. Not once does his smile falter. “I wanted to make sure you’d be nice and still for me, my pet. Just like when you first came. Do you remember?”

Your lip trembles. You want to scream, to hit him, something. But you can do no more than lay there at the mercy of your doctor.

“I’m sure you do,” he goes on with a half-chuckle. “You’ll never be able to forget it. I’ll never let you. In any case, I didn’t much want you to fight back anyway. I wanted you to let me take care of things, but I know full well how resistant you can be, my darling.”

You again begin to feel tears slowly push through from between your lashes and run down your cheeks. You don’t want to cry, but you feel so frustrated now, so afraid, so hopeless that you can’t help yourself. You chide your inability to hold yourself together like you had wanted. Even now, you’re acting like a child. Fearful, pathetic. You’re so stupid.

Yosuke lowers his eyes, fixating them upon your cheeks, and sweetly wipes your tears away with the backs of his fingers.

“My dear, don’t cry,” he coos. “Even though I had to render you immobile, know that I wanted to make this special for you. I did everything I could to make this work because you’re precious to me.”

He moves his hand away from your face and instead places it over the hand you have resting on your stomach.

“You don’t have to be afraid, my pet,” he continues to speak gently. “I’m your doctor. I’ll take good care of you. And I’ll be a bit gentler and sweeter this time just to make you happy. All you have to do is take me. You’ve had no trouble doing so a few times before, after all.”

You shift your eyes away, trying to force yourself to stop crying while Yosuke stares at you, his gaze soft.

“You look beautiful, Ten,” He says. “Having you this way is different than any other way I’ve had you before our last encounter. It’s endearing.”

Before our last encounter…?

Yosuke chuckles.

“Of course, there’s something missing.”

Your doctor stands back up and walks to a nearby planter. You’re almost glad that he’s gone, but he wastes no time in returning to you. As you continue to lay motionless on your makeshift bed, Yosuke again kneels down and sweetly brings something close to your head, cupping it in both his hands to show it to you before doing anything else. Your eyes flicker toward the object and see that he’s plucked a beautiful pink rose for you.

“A rose for a rose,” Yosuke gently croons. “That’s your color, isn’t it? I’d chosen it myself.”

You widen your eyes slightly, but you can say nothing in protest. Yosuke places the plucked rose in your hair, adjusting it carefully until he’s satisfied with its placement. When he’s done, he pulls his hands away and smiles.

“Perfect,” he remarks with a low voice. “You’re simply precious, my pet. Shall I call you Rose?”

You furrow your brows at this suggestion, unable to give much other indication of a blatant “no”. You don’t want to be called anything by him. His incessant pet names are bad enough, but to be given a genuine name by someone like him…

You don’t want him to claim you as his.

A finger on your left hand involuntarily twitches as you try desperately to move again. You remain motionless otherwise. At the very least, any grogginess you felt upon waking has lifted. You’re hoping you can speak again soon.

Yosuke laughs gently through his throat, expelling air through his nose lightly as he watches your expression.

“Just for tonight, you’ll be my Rose,” he affirms, not budging on his desire to name you. “After this, you’ll continue to be Ten. If you like.”

Yosuke then removes his shoes and places them at the foot of your makeshift bed. The aisles between the planters aren’t drastically large, but are so enough for Yosuke to settle on the cushions with you. He lays by your side, but positions himself so that his torso is hovering atop you, his palms pressed into the cushions on either side of your head as he steadies himself. He watches you with a tender gaze as you look on at him with unease, with anger, with all awful emotions. He knows as well as you do that you can’t fight back or get away from him, and it delights him to know this. For you, however, it’s nothing but horrible.

Yosuke wastes no time with you, leaning in now to start kissing you sweetly. You can do no more than take his lips in yours, taste every bit of him while you lay there motionless. You close your eyes, your brows upturned and your body trembling as you’re kissed. Yosuke does not once say a word as he works you, focused solely on your lips. He pulls away a few times to breathe and moan subtly, but otherwise the man remains attached to your mouth sucking at your lips longingly. His kisses now are far less sloppy and forceful than they sometimes have tended to be, and are instead sweet and gentle. You don’t want to use the word romantic, but, perhaps even that adequately describes it as well.

Your doctor runs a hand along your cheek as he kisses you, keeping his eyes closed and working you delicately. Even for as warm as being kissed this way makes you feel, you still hold steadfast to your feelings of anger at your doctor doing this to you.

This is all too much. Surely, you could have eventually learned to accept Yosuke’s constant use of you over time if only he didn’t obsess over you so adamantly. He treats you so differently than the other doctors treat their Numbers. It’s abysmal. Were it any other doctor, maybe you could have come to handle your role here with more ease. It wouldn’t have been personal, in fact it would have been far easier to detach yourself from your doctor in that case. Far easier to focus on yourself and your friends. But because it’s Yosuke…

The man pulls away from you slowly after a while, watching your flushed face with an endeared smile.

“Even a kiss flusters you, my dear,” he notes with a polite chuckle. “Your face is very red. It’s darling.”

He again moves into you, this time kissing your neck and ear. He turns your head slightly to make it easier to access these areas, exposing your shoulder and neck fully for him to take. You’re forced to feel the warmth of his lips pressing and pulling away from your skin slowly. Shivers trail down your spine as Yosuke works your neck, trailing his mouth to your ear with pecking kisses that make you blush even harder.

Yosuke pets and rubs at your scalp with his fingers as he holds it, adding to the sensation of his kisses. You wish you could push him away, but no matter how hard you try to move, you remain motionless. A doll, just as he wants you. At least when you get your voice back you can yell at him.

You grit your teeth as you feel Yosuke’s tongue against your ear, making a gasping noise without the voice to back it up as usual. Your eyes widen at this sensation, your face growing hot as your doctor sweetly tongues at your ear. He goes slowly this time, sucking at and licking every fold and crease, making your body shiver and your chest tight.

“You’ve always liked this sort of thing, haven’t you Rose?” Yosuke teases you with a low, gentle voice, pausing his lapping of you. “You respond so preciously to it.”

Hearing him call you Rose sickens you, but you can’t focus on your frustration now as the man continues to relentlessly flick his tongue around your ear, occasionally stopping to nip at your lobe and outer fold. You can’t take much more of this. Your body feels warm, comforted, eager. You can’t do anything to quell your physiological responses.

Eventually, your doctor pulls away and turns your head back upward, watching your flushed face with a sweet, enamored smile. He says nothing at first. Rather, he gently rubs the back of his fingers along your cheek, going up and down it slowly while he watches you breathe in and out heavily through your mouth.

“You’re precious, Rose,” he chuckles. “For as much as you’ve tried to fight me, you’re melting now, aren’t you? And we’ve only barely begun.”

Despite feeling weary at being touched, kissed, and licked, you try your hardest to protest. While you are able to finally make noise, right now it comes out as no more than a light, crackling whisper. This makes your doctor chuckle again, and he moves his hand from your cheek. Instead, he places a few fingers over your lips and rubs them subtly.

“Not quite yet, my darling,” he coos. “Let me enjoy your sweet quiet just a little longer.”

Yosuke drops his hand, and again, he leans in to kiss you sweetly. He lingers for far shorter a time than just before. Still, he moans just slightly as he kisses you, exhaling through his nose as if utterly enamored and aroused by you. Once he pulls away, he moves his hand over your clothed breast and gently gropes it, feeling the thing in his palm and rolling his fingers against it gently. He watches you intently as he works it, smiling all the while as your breaths remain heavy.

“Your body is ever delicate,” he teases you, gripping your breast eagerly and toying with it. “Truly like a rose. Without proper care, such a flower wilts easily. Like you. You want to seem in control of things. Perhaps with other doctors you’re able to fight back somewhat. Yet, you’re so fragile, you fall at the slightest of my touches. With the other doctors, it’s begrudging compliance. But with me, it’s something more than that. Even when you fight back, you fall. Yet, without me to care for you, you’ll wither.”

He chuckles as he watches you shut your eyes and try to avoid him.

“You can’t will me away, my pet,” he coos, removing his hand and now slipping it through the topmost opening of your dress. He again reaches for your breast and paws at the bare flesh with his fingers, lightly rubbing your nipple and making you gasp lightly.

“Rose, you’re mine.”

These words linger in your mind, haunting you. For him to name you then declare this is too much. Still, you can’t fight back now. No matter how much you try to move, the most you can possibly do is twitch a finger or two.

Since your eyes are closed, you’re taken slightly by surprise by Yosuke again pressing his lips against you as he toys with your breast and nipple. With the tip of his finger, he teases the sensitive thing, going between circling it gently and flicking it playfully and quickly to make you blush and shiver. After a while, he moves his other hand in your dress as well, pawing at your other breast with his other hand. He chuckles against your mouth as he continues to kiss you. After a while of this torment, he pulls his lips away from yours and moves to pull the top of your dress down just enough so that your breasts are fully exposed to him.

Yosuke shuffles down slightly and leans his torso again over you, sucking upon your left breast with his mouth now while still teasing your nipple with his finger on the rightmost one. Your breaths quicken as you try to cry out, but again, you can only produce fragments of noise. Yosuke finds this amusing and begins to smirk as he tongues at your skin, lapping up the area and teasing your nipple with the tip of his wet tongue. He laughs when he feels both of them getting harder, and nips at you just a little with his teeth. Not enough to hurt you whatsoever, but certainly enough to make you audibly gasp. Again, this reaction makes him laugh, and he forcefully sucks at your breast before popping it out of his mouth with a loud, wet smack following the act.

Once he’s pulled away, Yosuke breathes heavily through his mouth and murmurs.

“Beautiful…”

He then glances at you and smiles while still playing with your nipple using his finger.

“Your body is just beautiful, my dear Rose,” he says gently. “I could do this forever. But of course, there’s more to be done.”

You continue to breathe and give crackling, fragmented whimpers, disgusted yet unable to stop your doctor. Again, you try to speak up, but find that you can only produce a “y…y…” before you give up entirely. Hearing you makes Yosuke smirk to himself, but he says nothing of it. Instead, he leaves your breasts alone and again takes his place beside you, moving close to your head now. Steadying his weight on his right elbow, he worms his right hand beneath your head, grasping gently at your hair as before. He then takes his other hand and playfully trails his fingers along your stomach. Even through the fabric of the dress, you can feel his touch clearly. Your eyes glance downward as your nervousness rises. You know where he means to go, but you can’t stop him from going there.

As expected, Yosuke moves down until he’s reached your crotch, though he doesn’t immediately try to touch you there. Instead, he gently lifts your skirt up to completely expose your legs and underwear, then begins to rub your thigh lovingly.

“You’re trembling,” he croons. “My dear, there’s no need to be afraid. I’ll take good care of your body. I told you I’d be gentle this time, didn’t I? You’ve always seemed to look forward to my sweeter touches. So relax for me. Enjoy this.”

You look away, shifting your gaze to the right while Yosuke stares intently at you with his olive eyes. Even though you can’t see him, you can completely feel his focus on you. At his mercy, you can only lay there and wish fruitlessly for him to stop. Even if you could verbalize your begging, you’re sure the man would only get more aroused by it.

Yosuke continues to trail his hand lightly up and down your thigh, caressing the skin there sweetly while he watches you happily. After a while, you feel your doctor’s fingers move to your crotch, and he lightly rubs at your slit, trailing it upward toward your clit in a long, slow motion before fiddling with it just slightly from behind your panties. He laughs as he does this, amused.

“My, Rose,” he breathes in your ear, making you shut your eyes. “You’re quite wet. Even when you don’t want to admit it, this entices you. Makes you want to be touched more and more.”

He purrs as he says the last few words of this statement, then moans and sweetly pecks at your cheek with a loud kiss.

“You do love it, don’t you dear?”

You can’t say no, so you merely breathe quickly, your heart fluttering as you’re teased and your body responding to Yosuke desirously despite you mentally wanting all this to stop. Your entire body feels warm now. Your legs are weak, and your lips continue to tremble. Unable to resist him, you’re left lying there as Yosuke slips his hand into your panties and worms his fingers toward your vulva. Gently, he massages your clit, making you half-whimper even more. To make matters worse, Yosuke gives a light chuckle before moving in to suck and lick at your ear once more, turning your head so that you’re forced to endure every bit of his wet tongue. He moans darlingly into your ear as he takes you, flicking and rubbing your clit sweetly.

After a while of toying with you there, Yosuke then slips his fingers down lower, separating your labia with his fingers and subsequently rubbing your entrance playfully. He chuckles in your ear, expelling breath through his noise and hitting your skin with its heat as he finds more amusement in your aroused state. After hovering his fingers over your vagina a moment, he finally presses them into your pussy sweetly, taking your body for his own enjoyment and watching as you fail to squirm and writhe at his assault of you. Your fingers lightly twitch in response to this pleasure, but you can do no more than whimper otherwise. Your noises are slowly starting to sound less crackly and restrained, so you know you’re on the cusp of finally being able to speak. Still, you’re certain it’ll do little good with your body still completely helpless to your doctor’s rape of it.

“You sing so beautifully, Rose,” Yosuke breathes in your ear, playing with your clit with his thumb while his fingers begin to push in and out of you lovingly. “I’m very glad you’re mine.”

You continue to breathe and gasp heavily, your voice slowly growing louder and making more noise as you whimper and moan at Yosuke’s warm touch. Even though he’s not being forceful, you still can’t help but react this way to his fingers inside of you. Something about the slowness of it drives you wild, yet you try desperately to fight against the pleasure. You don’t want to feel good. You don’t want your doctor to think he can keep doing this to you and make you eventually want him. But..

You finally let out a loud gasp as Yosuke begins to pick up his pace, both with his fingers and his tongue against your ear. He nips at your earlobe again, moaning aloud in an attempt to arouse you further. He chuckles when your gasps become irregular in rhythm, almost sounding shaky as you endure more of his touch. Your eyes open wide, your mouth utterly agape as Yosuke continuously slips his fingers in and out of you. The wetness from between your legs is only more apparent now with how much your pussy is squelching with each fingering rhythm. You don’t want to hear it at all, but it remains loud and present nonetheless.

“You look like you’re about to come, Rose” Yosuke teases you, giving your ear another little lick. “I can see you trying to fight it, but you can’t hold on forever. So, please come for me, dear.”

“N…no…” you finally manage to get out a word, but utter it in between your whimpers and gasps. Yosuke chuckles lightly at this poor attempt at resisting him. Instantly, he retracts his fingers and pushes them in immediately, going deeply into you while still circling your clit with his thumb. As he moves to curl his fingers inside of you and stimulate your g-spot for a moment, he gives your ear another long lick before whispering,

“Come, my pet…”

You try to fight him further, but find it difficult to as your body wells with pleasure at Yosuke’s touch. Despite trying so hard to not do as he says, you are unable to keep up your fight and find yourself moaning loudly into the air. Yosuke watches your face intently as you come, smiling all the while, and continuing to finger you until you completely stop orgasming. Finally able to speak, you let out loud vocal breaths as your chest heaves.

“Beautiful,” is your doctor’s murmuring response. Enamored, he kisses your cheek sweetly, and he lightly laughs. “My dear Rose, you make such darling faces for me. You’re beautiful.”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” You finally cry, shutting your eyes and almost begging to start tearing up again without actually doing so. If anything, you’re purely frustrated. Angry. “Why didn’t you just fuck me in my sleep so I wouldn’t have to watch you do this?! It’s enough that you constantly use me. Why do you have to antagonize me this way? I never asked for this to happen!”

Yosuke slowly pulls his fingers out of you and smiles as you whimper at the sensation of his digits sliding out of you.

“I wanted you to experience this while you were aware,” He tells you, his voice still low. “I wanted you to watch me take you. Like before. Our first time together was special, wasn’t it?”

He chuckles.

“As for the other ‘why’, I can’t say because no answer will satisfy you. You ask me this every time, my pet. There’s no reason to ask why anymore. You don’t seem to believe anything I do makes any sense anyway.”

“I just can’t understand why you don’t treat me like the other doctors do,” you respond in frustration. Even though the man turns your head toward him so that you can face him, you refuse to look him in the eye. “You’re treating me like more than a prisoner. You’re treating me like a thing you want to own under the guise of taking care of me. I can’t stand it. You’re getting crazier and crazier, and it’s scaring me. I can only take so much of this.”

You scowl.

“I really do believe now that you’ve spent time with Mom like you said,” you continue when Yosuke says nothing. He merely watches you quietly, still with a smile on his face. Much to your dismay, he begins to rub your stomach sweetly now, just underneath where your right hand is resting. He merely begins petting you while you speak.

“Had you been lying about it, you wouldn’t be acting so much like her,” you continue, trying not to pay attention to this disturbing act. “She’s rubbed off on you, Yosuke. Do you even realize that you’re doing something so outlandish in your obsession of me? The way she does?”

“I suppose so,” Yosuke lightly laughs, not at all bothered by this accusation for some reason. “But I’m nowhere near her level, my dear. Your mother acts out regularly because she’s not quite, for lack of a better term, mentally stable. She has been here a long time, after all.”

“You aren’t disturbed by how right she was?” You question him, finally looking the man in the eyes. Much to your dismay, he continues to watch you warmly. “She said you’d do the same things she does. She knew.”

Yosuke retracts his hand from your stomach and shifts himself up, removing himself from you entirely. He instead moves down on the cushion and positions himself so that he’s between your legs. You’re forced to watch him with unease as he lifts your skirt more and pulls down your underwear entirely.

“You really do think I’m like her, don’t you Rose?” He chuckles. This makes you scowl again.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You bark at him. Yosuke merely smiles.

“You prefer the other name?” He questions you cheekily. “The name that isn’t even your original one? A mere number you’ve been given? Come, now. Rose is a special name, just for you.”

You growl at the man. “I’d rather be called Ten than Rose. I don’t want to be named by you. I’m not an animal.”

“But you are mine, pet” Yosuke chuckles again. With your pussy exposed to him, he begins to spread your legs and rubs both of your inner thighs gently. “You’ll be mine for the rest of your days. For some reason you seem to forget this fact. All you can do is get comfortable and let me have you.”

“You can’t,” you look away. “I’m not yours to take.”

“It’s unfortunate that you truly believe that, darling.” Your doctor smirks, removing his glasses and setting them aside. “Like a princess, you’ve been captured, and you have no choice but to accept what befalls you. You’re at the mercy of the sovereignty that stands high above you. Now, if you’ll stay quiet a moment, my dear Rose, I’ll make you feel like a princess yet. Don’t be afraid to cry and scream if you like now that you’re able. Nobody’s going to hear us. And nobody is coming to save you.”

Yosuke says nothing more after this and gives you no chance to protest. Immediately following this statement, he shifts himself back a bit and leans forward to begin tonguing lovingly at your clit, starting off slow. You gasp and blush at this, unable to wriggle away with your body still motionless, immobilized. You try your best to keep quiet, but Yosuke tongues at you sweetly, circling and flicking your clit lovingly while occasionally making bold, long strokes with his tongue. He watches you closely as you whimper and moan, his olive eyes flickering up toward you as you’re unable to keep yourself silent with the sensations of his wet tongue toying with you down there.

Occasionally, he stops to suck gently at your clit before continuing to tongue it without mercy. His pace eventually quickens the more you whimper and gasp, which only makes you react even more strongly to your doctor. You want to beg him to stop, yet know full well he’ll find it amusing. No matter what you do, it will excite him. Instead, you merely lie there and make your noises, having no other option than to take your doctor.

Yosuke rubs one of your inner thighs, caressing it sweetly as he tongues at you. With his other hand, he brings his fingers toward your pussy and pushes his way into you with them. You can hear the man give an amused chuckle through his nose at the loud squelching sound his entry makes. The vibrations of his noise resonating against your clit and send shivers down your spine. You can’t stand this, so you close your eyes and try to avoid looking at your doctor as he pleasures you with his mouth and fingers.

After a while of toying with your pussy and relentlessly tonguing you, Yosuke begins to curl his fingers inside your vagina, stimulating your g-spot once more. This makes you yelp with pleasure as you feel the sensation of it coupled with Yosuke’s tongue flicking. You don’t know for how long he does this to you, but you find yourself melting at his touch despite trying not to. Your noises become far more constant, with your chest heaving breaths and your voice resonating loud moans which slip unapologetically past your lips. Yosuke continues to repeat his motions, finding just the right ones to make you sing for him.

You try desperately to hold yourself together, but you can’t for very much longer. Both you and your doctor know this. Again, Yosuke laughs handsomely through his throat and sends another shiver down your spine. He doesn’t bother to pull back to comment on your futile resistance, but you can tell he wants you to come for him by the way he’s furiously playing with you and responding with throated amusement. Even in your best attempts to stall your pleasure, you can’t help but give in. Your pussy is squelching relentlessly as Yosuke’s fingers curl, dig, and thrust powerfully inside of it, your clit is firm in its full arousal as it’s wriggled around by your doctor’s wet, strong tongue. You’re helpless to him. No matter what, you’re just helpless.

At once, you feel yourself ready to let go again. With no way to stop your climax, you start to cry aloud and come.

“Y-Yosuke!” You wail carelessly, your voice weary and gasping as you utter his name. You have no idea why you said it at all, but you silently chide yourself for letting it slip out despite your best attempts to detach yourself from the man. Even so, you can’t properly think with your pleasure at its peak, and you’re forced to come in Yosuke’s face. He laps you up eagerly, refusing to stop until you can’t make any more noise and are only left breathing heavily through your open mouth as the last of your pleasure ebbs.

Once it’s over, Yosuke pulls away just slightly and breathes deeply, recovering from being smothered in your juices. He chuckles as he licks his lips and wipes the rest of his face off, staring at you with a satisfied look in his eyes.

“You tasted lovely, my dear Rose,” he compliments you slyly. “And I can see that I’ve made you feel terribly good. Haven’t I, darling?”

Kneeling back up and shifting himself closer, he reaches a hand over to your upper chest and feels as it rises and falls. You hate to admit his warmth feels good there after you’ve just come, but you’re still trying to recover from your orgasm and have no chance to protest his touch like you know you should. Instead, your eyes flicker over to the man’s hand, and you furrow your brows despite still gasping for breath.

“Don’t give me that look, pet,” Yosuke lightly reprimands you, smiling gently. He raises his hand to your chin and curls his fingers against and underneath it, then presses his thumb against your lower lip. He rubs it a little, teasing you while you continue to suck in air.

“You can admit to me it felt good,” he goes on, still smiling. “I won’t hold it against you. Merely, your cooperation will satisfy me.”

“Yosuke…” You finally compose yourself enough to speak. Even so, your doctor keeps his thumb against your lip, tilting his head as he listens to you. “…You’re going to get in trouble for this. You said you weren’t afraid of your boss, but how can you just be so reckless?”

“Are you worried about me, dear?” Yosuke chuckles, then swipes his thumb along your lips again. “How sweet.”

“You know what I mean!” you answer him firmly. “Why are you so unafraid of the consequences of doing this?”

Yosuke frowns slightly.

“Because I calculated the risk, Rose,” he explains, dropping his hand. “I know that I’ll get in trouble. I know that there’s going to be tremendous consequence. But, as we all do one way or another, I decided to act after weighing my options. I don’t much care if my superior decides to break my limbs, cut me open, hurt me with his tools. I’ll handle it. In any case, it’s unavoidable. He will find out what I’ve done. Only, he won’t find out for a little while.”

“Why?” You demand.

“Back when I spoke with my boss, he let it slip that he’d be out for a while dealing with an outside matter,” Yosuke explains. “Financial business. Nothing I have to concern myself with, but something I know takes a good little while to deal with. Meetings, paperwork, the like. As we speak, he’s out with his partner. He’ll continue to pop in and out for a while. Perhaps he trusted me with that information because he expected that I wouldn’t abuse it. It’s my fault for breaking that trust, I admit. I won’t attempt to shirk the fact that I behaved poorly, to avoid taking responsibility. Nonetheless, I found the information useful. But there’s another matter that will hold his attention as well.”

He chuckles, his smile returning.

“Rose, in addition to his meetings, he’s going to be busy with you. Your injection is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen, but you find yourself speechless at this statement. You knew this was coming, but for the time to already have arrived…it feels so sudden. You know you’ve been here a while, but you were expecting just to wake up in recovery after falling asleep one day. You hadn’t expected everything that’s been happening to just hit you all at once. Then again…even Mom did something outlandish before Cyrus’ shot. You’re sure the other doctors don’t hold back on visits before then either. You guess there’s no great prepwork necessary for the procedure.

Hearing that you’re due only brings you more questions, more worries. More fear. Even so, you can hardly trust Yosuke to answer anything about it now. Just on this, you’ll have to let him take care of things. Right now, you’re focused on what he’s doing with you.

“Did you even plan this out or are you just improvising?” You question him angrily.

“I told you, I’m taking advantage of a chance,” your doctor reminds you. “In a sense it is a bit improvised given my limited timeframe, but I was acutely aware of my need to act quickly. After my last visit with you, I thought about doing this for you. While you slept, I contemplated what exactly I could do. I had the means, after all. I had a chance to. All I needed was to figure out what to do and how.

“That day you asked me to take you to the hall, I agreed partly as a favor to you, but it also presented me with an opportunity. I only visited your mother that day so that I could get a better look at the gate controls and figure out just how to work them in the brief time I spent talking to her. Some of us don’t know how they work because we’ve never fiddled with them. I’ve had little reason to need to use them myself. I don’t usually just waltz in there, after all.”

This takes you aback. You knew your doctor was sly about manipulating you, but to go this far just to do it is ridiculous. He’s acting so strangely. In the end, you were right to think something was off earlier today. It wasn’t just return to form. Yosuke’s obsession has driven him to act out where he wouldn’t have before. Or would he have?

“I wasn’t lying when I said your mother tried to get fresh with me,” Yosuke adds, glancing down at you as you return a look of fear back at him. “She took my visitation as me attempting to rekindle something we never really had. With everything that’s happened lately, I can’t say I’m not surprised that she’d become desperate. She does have her moments. Still, I refused her, we argued, she had an episode. She doesn’t much like rejection. She never really did.”

He smiles.

“I went back to her tonight. I admit, I tricked her a little bit to get what I wanted, but I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

“What exactly did you do to her, Yosuke?” You demand, furrowing your brows. You don’t know why you even care. A part of you almost feels sorry for the woman, even if she’s an awful person. You should never feel bad for any of the doctors. But to be tricked by a man you once cared even an inkling for must make it sting that much more when he betrays you.

Yosuke chuckles and proceeds to brush his hand delicately along your cheek, petting you like an animal. He seems to find your frustration amusing.

“I drugged her, Rose,” he answers without hesitation. “I arrived late to the office and told her what I told you: that I’d just lost track of time. But, I said I wanted to make amends for earlier before I got you, and so we chatted for a while. It was still early enough not to be much of an issue, and she’d already taken her own Number to his room in my lateness, so she had nothing to lose. All I did was pretend to make an offering of peace and slip a pill into her drink. Not unlike what I did with you, only I just gave you anesthetic. What I gave her was a tranquilizer. It’s not anything we use on you, but rather a strong medication meant for restlessness. It’s something I used to have to take myself. The anesthetic lasts a short while unless we continuously give it to you. This was explicitly a drug meant to keep the user under for a while.”

Yosuke then smiles and rests his palm against your cheek, cupping it warmly.

“Now Rose, don’t be so jealous when I tell you this, but I had to flirt with her a little bit to draw out the drug’s effects. It does take time to work, after all. Even so, she was out faster than expected. But like I already told you, she’s safe. There’s no need to worry. I stayed with her until it was time to get you. All I had to do was listen and wait for your call.”

“You’re crazy,” you tell your doctor firmly, your mouth agape in shock. “You did all this just to get to me…What’s wrong with you?”

“I hadn’t expected to want to do this at all, I admit,” your doctor goes on, sweetly rubbing your lips with his thumb and watching in amusement as you shut your eyes in embarrassment at his gesture. “Had it not been for what happened last time with you, I might not have been so brash. But what happened happened, and so I acted.”

“What are you talking abou-” You’re cut off mid-sentence, your eyes opening wide and your throat letting out a whimper as Yosuke leans in and pecks at your neck sweetly and suddenly with his lips. Between your noises, you try to stay focused.

“Stop that!” you cry. “I’m trying to talk to you!”

“Now Rose, I’ve humored your precious curiosity quite enough. This is really no time for conversation,” Yosuke teases before kissing your neck again. “We’re in the middle of a date, aren’t we? I just made you come, after all. Twice. I’m only trying to pleasure you, my pet.”

“I told you I don’t like this!” You shoot back, gasping lightly as Yosuke continues to peck at your flesh sweetly. “This isn’t romantic, and this isn’t pleasure! It’s-”

“Rape?” Yosuke questions before you can finish your statement, his voice whispering softly in your ear, as if he finds the word enticing. He laughs through his throat when you shift your eyes away and tremble, then kisses your cheek. “My dear Rose, you react so sweetly to that word now. You want to find it disgusting, but you really do like being taken advantage of.”

He reaches a hand down and again swipes gently along your still-wet slit with two fingers. He then brings his fingers up to show you just how coated in your juices they are, his smirk still plastered on his face.

“Do you want to tell me this isn’t from you?” He teases with a low, crooning voice. “That these aren’t the juices of a girl who dislikes being touched by her doctor?”

You grimace in disgust as the man cleans his fingers of the stuff, sucking them slightly.

“Of course that’s not from me! I told you-”

“It is from you, Rose,” Yosuke interrupts you insistently. Again, he spreads your legs, opening your body up to him. Without hesitation, he moves to kneel between them. “Don’t act like it isn’t, now.”

Slowly, he moves to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You tremble as you hear the audible, slow zip.

“My dear, there’s no reason to be afraid,” Yosuke coos in his observance of you. Still avoiding looking toward him, you continue to tremble involuntarily as you feel his cock press against your slit. He rubs himself against you, teasing you sweetly. “Your body’s been toyed with many times before. This shouldn’t surprise you anymore.”

“It’s not the sex that scares me,” you admit shakily. “Yosuke, you’re acting worse than you used to. What happened to you?”

Yosuke grinds slowly against you, rubbing his cock back and forth against your vulva and pressing his tip against your clit with each sweet thrust.

“I expected you to act especially slutty that day,” your doctor says, placing his hands on either side of your head now and watching you as he hovers atop your body. “I expected you to beg for me. The drug erased all your inhibitions and made you lust for me. It’s a normal reaction. Everyone who uses it becomes uncontrollably lusty, desperate to feel good. So desperate that they’ll jump at whoever they can just to get a taste of pleasure.”

He grunts slightly as he pushes his cock against you further. By now he’s dribbling precum, but he remains where he is and doesn’t penetrate you yet. He almost seems as though he’s fighting against himself, and you’re not sure you like this any more than you do seeing him lust for you. Not wanting to look upon him more, you again shut your eyes.

“Seeing you desperate has never been strange to me,” Yosuke continues, giving a few focused breaths as he continues his motions against you. “From the very beginning, you clung to me. The first time you did it in the shower, I almost wanted to take you right then and there. Your desire to have someone care for you, that’s your weakness, Rose. You want to be cherished, comforted. It didn’t take long for me to learn that.

“I was happy to hear you beg for me after what happened with Milos. It was enticing. But I could still sense you fighting with yourself. Your desire for me was in question then. Perhaps I knew it was disingenuous, yet I enjoyed myself regardless, as you no doubt did.”

You wish you could remind him of his promise, but by now, you’re sure it hardly matters. You lightly gasp and whimper as Yosuke continues to grind against you, blushing hard with every push and rub. You feel utterly wet between your legs, slimy and disgusting. Yosuke’s movements only make the wetness more apparent.

Despite being flustered by this rubbing, you’re surprised when it suddenly stops. Hesitating, you open your eyes and shift your gaze toward Yosuke, watching him with unease as his olive eyes stare back at you. He watches you intently, his smirk now softened to a sweet, knowing smile.

“I still don’t get it. What happened that day to make you like this?” You question him worriedly. “What did I do that I haven’t done before? You’ve seen me cry, beg, and come. I don’t understand what changed.”

Yosuke chuckles.

“Rose, I’ve always wanted you to be mine, but you’ve always resisted me,” he tells you, leaning in closer to your face. Enough for you to feel his breath. “I’ve known for a while how attached you were to me despite wanting desperately not to be. I knew you were going to let your body give into me. I anticipated it. Admittedly, I was surprised to see you start crying even through the drug’s effects. But most of all…I didn’t expect you to smile.”

Hearing this, your eyes widen.

“I’ve known many smiles, Rose,” Yosuke tells you. “None have ever made me feel the way yours did. Faces like your mother’s are merely lustful, hungry visages. Yours…it was sweet. Innocent. Beautiful. Even through the lust the drug brought out in you, that smile was genuine. Even through your tears, you just couldn’t help yourself. Could you?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, Yosuke gives a throated laugh, then immediately moves his cock back and presses it into your pussy, making you grunt as he pushes it in slowly. You can feel the walls of your vagina wrapping around him as he makes his way deeper.

“Even after all this time, you still wrap beautifully around my cock,” your doctor amusedly points out. “How very precious.”

“D-don’t change the subject!” You cry as Yosuke pulls back and pushes in again, still keeping a slow pace. He’s taking his sweet time with you now. You can’t stand it. “Why should me smiling for you have done anything?! You know it wasn’t really me! I would never-”

You’re unable to finish your statement as Yosuke again burrows himself deeply into your cunt, making you groan.

“It was you,” he insists, murmuring into your ear as he takes you. “I’ve known you for a good while, my pet. Enough to tell the difference between your bodily lust and your silent longing. That smile you gave me, the begging you did for me, the sweet, precious desire you had for me to make you yours…that was genuine. I could see it in your eyes. I know them well.”

He grunts lightly as he again pumps his cock inside of you. His going slow forces you to feel every motion, take every inch of him fully. Somehow, it’s even worse than just being treated like a fucktoy. You don’t want this.

“I know you, Rose,” Yosuke continues, breathing into your ear. “You’ve always been reactive to me. You’ve always fought me because you started to fall for me. Depend on me. You hated yourself for it. But your reaction to me that day didn’t come from just the drug. Any other person would have acted as badly your mother does, if not worse. Slutty, hungry. Crazy. The reactions of those under the drug’s influence is unmistakable. The effects are always constant. Emotions are mere variables in this case. The veil of resistance you have, that heavy yet utterly transparent curtain of defiance covering your real desires—it was entirely lifted that day. That begging you did wasn’t just from lust alone. That came from you. I hadn’t expected it to be that way.”

“Stop it…” You shut your eyes again. You don’t want to hear this. You should never have asked. You-

Yosuke again pumps into you more forcefully now that your pussy is starting to take him more easily. His strong, slow thrusts make your gasps turn into whimpers and light moans.

“Everything I wanted was in that smile,” Yosuke goes on, grinning slightly. “For that moment, you were truly mine. I didn’t have to force you to admit you wanted me. All I did was force you to enjoy letting me fuck you, but I had nothing to do with your emotions then. In that moment, your hesitation, your fear, your doubt—all of it was gone. You felt everything on your own. You showed me then just how attached to me you really were.”

He takes your right hand from its place atop your stomach and worms his fingers between yours. Holding you now, he presses your hand against the cushion, letting its back slide against the fabric as he holds you in place.

“I was taken aback by your reaction to me, in honesty,” he admits, grunting pleasurably as he thrusts into you again, expelling air through his nostrils as he does so. “You went so beyond my expectations that I had to stop myself. Without restraint, one can easily become like your mother. Without limitation, it’s very easy to fall.”

He laughs.

“But then you just kept begging for me…I couldn’t not take care of my dear pet. I had to make her happy.”

“Yosuke stop…” You again beg between your gasps and moans. “I don’t want to hear this anymore. Please…”

“You can fight me all you like, my pet,” your doctor coos, breathily kissing your cheek as he continues bucking his hips steadily against you, making long but forceful strides. “But I know that everything I’ve done to you has slowly been affecting you just the way I expected. You’ve shown me the fruits of my labor, my dearest Rose.”

Again, he kisses you, sucking at your neck this time and touching his tongue against your skin before retracting his lips. You blush and moan at his touch, losing your ability to think properly the more he stimulates you.

“But there’s still more work to be done with you,” Yosuke says breathily. “I’m not surprised your body has given into me. Your heart and mind are trickier, but I’ll have them in time, dear. And even if you are able to resist me forever, I’ll still love you. No matter what, you’re mine. You can never leave, and I will always have you just the way I want. Even when you try hard to get away from me, I’m always there. And I will always be. I will always take care of you, love you, fuck you.”

Yosuke chuckles devilishly into your ear. You’re unable to respond now, horrified by what you’re being told and feeling frozen by your doctor’s words. Your heart refuses to stop beating at a quick pace, your body incessantly trembles as you’re taken against your will, and your throat refuses to cease its shaking gasps and loud moans as you’re fucked. Perhaps Yosuke prefers you this way anyway. Unable to resist, to think, to fight. Maybe it is better just to let go. You can’t win.

“Now Rose, get ready for me,” Yosuke murmurs gently, squeezing the hand he’s holding. “I’m going to go faster. I want you to feel good, my dear, so please enjoy it.”

He smiles gently before moving in to kiss you, his lips soft and warm against yours. Once he pulls away, his grip on your hand tightens, and he moves his body against yours in a faster rhythm as promised. Unable move, you grunt and cry as you’re raped further, laying there helplessly, and taking Yosuke’s cock inside of you. Your body continues to shiver, its entirety wrapped in your doctor’s warmth as he pumps quickly inside of you. He moans, pants, and grunts heavily into your ear, his breath hitting your skin with every exhale. The wet sloppy noises from his fucking of you continue to fill the air, their pace rapid as Yosuke continues to pump in and out, in and out incessantly into you.

You can’t take it. You can’t even bring yourself to speak anymore as your body is forcibly pleasured. All you can do is lay there and let your doctor “take good care of you”, just like he wants. You cry out, moaning and yelping as you’re fucked. After a while, Yosuke leans in to briefly hush your wails with his mouth, locking his lips with yours and kissing you adoringly. He lingers there for a while as he continues to use you, but eventually pulls away.

“I’m almost there, Rose,” he murmurs breathily. “I’ll fill you with my seed yet.”

Your doctor continues to buck and thrust against you, pumping his cock in and out of your pussy eagerly while he watches your flushed, pleasure-laden face. You can’t help but react to the man, moaning and yelping as you’re furiously ridden, dominated against your will as always. You grit your teeth and continue to endure the boring of Yosuke’s cock in and out of your cunt, the warm flesh of his crotch meeting yours with every thrust. After a while, it’s too much to bear, even for him.

Yosuke promptly tightens his grip on your hand and hangs his head, panting and grunting eagerly as his dick begins to throb, indicating his readiness to spurt his cum inside of you. Before he lets go entirely, he kisses your cheek roughly and breathes into your ear, forcing you to hear every bit of his pleasure as he finally releases his load. As he fills your cunt, more of your wails begin to fill the air, your own pleasure reaching its peak as your body remains helpless to being dominated by your doctor. You can’t even grind against him involuntarily, still immobilized. You’re truly nothing but a fuckdoll now. One that talks and breathes. One that’s left moaning and whimpering as its pleasure eventually subsides.

Yosuke’s pumping pace into your pussy slows gradually, and his noises soon dwindle until all he’s able to do is breathe in and out heavily. When your doctor has finished, he chuckles, but does not pull out of you.

“Your face is just precious, my Rose,” he murmurs, removing his hand from yours and gently brushing some stray strands of your hair away from your cheeks. You continue to lay there, panting, letting your chest rise and fall as you recover from your own pleasure. You remain with your eyes closed, not wanting to look Yosuke in the eye now. You already know he’s staring at you, enamored. You already know he’s grinning at his dominance of you.

Suddenly, you feel Yosuke gently maneuver both himself and your body, shifting both so that he and you are lying on your sides and facing one another. Not once does he pull out of you.

Your eyes hesitantly open as you feel Yosuke bring both your arms to his chest, and once he’s positioned you as he likes, he holds you close to him, wrapping one arm over your waist, and the other underneath you to cradle your upper body and press it against him.

“You’re warm, my pet,” he coos. “Every bit of you is full of warmth. I do love being like this with you.”

“Get out of me,” you wearily beg, still feeling your doctor’s cock inside of your body. “Please…You got what you wanted.”

“Not precisely,” Yosuke refutes this claim. “But in time, I hope to.”

“Then what do you want?!” You demand, raising your voice. “I don’t understand anymore.”

“You’ve known from the very beginning that I only wanted you to be mine,” Yosuke reminds you. “My dearest Rose, you know precisely what I want. You just don’t want to have to give it to me.”

“Because if I give you what I want, it means losing who I am,” You shoot back in anger. “I already have to let you rape me constantly. Is that not enough? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Yosuke chuckles. “Essentially, yes. But things have changed for me now that you’ve arrived. You should be grateful that you get to be special. Even your mother doesn’t pamper her Number like this, nor does she commit to him exclusively. She treats him like her son, not like a little prince. You, on the other hand, get to be treated like a princess. You’re merely a lost rose, one that’s been found and cared for. I’ve nurtured you, loved you. Is that not enough?”

“You call this love?!” You shoot out. “This is captivity! It’s sick!”

“You only see it that way because you choose to,” your doctor answers without once changing his soft tone. “It’s only against your will if you continue to fight it.”

Yosuke chuckles softly and moves his hand from your waist to your abdomen.

“Of course, if I can’t coax you into wanting me willingly, there are other ways to make you mine.”

“S-stop…” You stammer, lightly whimpering as your doctor begins to rub your lower abdomen from over the cloth of your dress.

“Even if impregnating you means that you’ll be taken away from me,” Your doctor goes on, “it would give me immense satisfaction knowing that I made you mine by planting my seed inside of you.”

He tilts his head.

“We’ve still no clue whether you can get pregnant or not, do we?”

“Stop it!” You grit your teeth and shut your eyes. “I…”

“We’ll find out soon, I’m sure. There’s still plenty of time to figure it out, and neither outcome will dissatisfy me. Sterility only means I get to have you however I like for as long as you live. A pregnancy would only satisfy my desire to make my mark on you. And, if for any reason you’re able to return to me, I’ll only have the pleasure of taking care of you further. You are a delicate little thing, Rose. You need me to care for you.”

He laughs lightly again as he sees your embarrassment, your frustration. Even now, you’re still shivering. Your doctor remains utterly amused by you.

“Even so, my dear,” he gently croons, still petting your tummy. “I think you would make a wonderful mother. You have a certain warmth to you perfect for mothering a child. You’re a sweet young woman, kind and gentle toward others. Caring.”

“I don’t want to hear this!” You cry. “Yosuke, please, stop it!”

“Would you have liked son or a daughter, my dearest?” Yosuke persists, holding you closer to him. You gasp and open your eyes as your chest is pressed firmly against your doctor’s warm torso. Your bare breasts rubbing against the man’s shirt, warm with his body heat. Yosuke merely smiles sweetly as he continues to pet you, watching you with his olive eyes.

“I would have liked a son of my own, personally,” he admits, his voice low and gentle. “If I could no longer take care of you, I’d have liked someone trustworthy to do it in my stead. Even so, I suppose the idea of being a father is a mere pipe dream now. Perhaps in another life, you and I could be happy together. Have a little family, even.”

You continue to tremble, your eyes wide and threatening to tear up. This is disgusting. This is wrong. You don’t want to hear any of this.

“Please…” You beg further, becoming more and more desperate. “Please…please…”

“Oh, my dearest Rose,” Yosuke gently laughs, amused by your tormented state. Finally, he removes his hand from your abdomen, though he continues to hold your torso tightly against his. “I’m not done quite yet.”

Your doctor smiles and lowers his hand to your right leg, lifting it slightly to open you up a bit.

“Let’s fill you with just a little bit more of my cum, alright? If there’s still a chance for me to impregnate you. I’d very much like to make sure it’s my seed you get the most of. I’d be dissatisfied knowing anyone else impregnated my Rose.”

You whimper as Yosuke pulls out of you slightly, your wet pussy again stimulated at the feeling of the man’s flesh rubbing against the walls of your insides as he moves. In an instant, Yosuke pushes back into you, making you gasp. You notice that your fingers are finally starting to twitch more, and hope desperately that you can move again soon.

“Please relax, my dear,” Yosuke urges you sweetly. “I’ll still be gentle. But remember that you are still mine to use.”

You’re sure begging further will be of no use now. Even so, you can’t focus on speaking now that you’re forced to endure more of Yosuke’s thrusts against you. By now your pussy is still creamy with your doctor’s cum inside of it, and wet from your own juices. All your doctor is doing now is shoving his semen further into you while preparing to pump even more of it in. You feel like no more than an object now, unable to stop him, unable to move.

You’re loose and relaxed enough now to take the man easily, and so it’s far easier for him to pump his cock in and out of you. Again, he starts slowly, but the meeting of both your skin results in even more loud slapping noises. Despite going slow, Yosuke remains forceful in his thrusts, watching you eagerly as you whimper and groan.

“Ngh!” You grunt as you’re pumped into. Yosuke brings his hand further up your back and holds your head in it, tilting it upward by gripping your hair and moving in to kiss you warmly. He continues to make his wide, forceful strides against your body, pressing his dick in and out of you and riding you sweetly, but hungrily. Though you whimper and moan into his mouth, you finally close your eyes and stop fighting. You’re beaten, and now you just want it all to end. There’s no way you’re going to just let the man into your heart, but for now, you’ll let him enjoy your body until you can rest again.

Admittedly, it feels good being like this. You’d not been held this way since Yosuke saved you from Mom. However, he’s doing to you just what she had. He’s taking advantage of you, taking a “risk” just to do it too. Even when you told him how much like her he’s acting, he still seems to believe he’s different. Yosuke had said something about restraining himself, yet you don’t believe even he’s capable of doing so, for as calculated as he can be. He’s starting to act just like the woman he criticizes. They’re really the same.

You suppose Yosuke does at least try to be sweet with you at times, but for as naïve as you can be, you’re not wholly stupid enough to just trust him, especially not now. He’s an awful person. He can be forceful when he has to be. You can’t let yourself lose to him. You can let your body succumb now, but you know you still have to try fighting. At the very least, you gave it your best today, didn’t you? You hope so.

Yosuke soon picks up his pace inside of you, pressing deeply into your pussy and breathing heavily as he kisses you. His eyes are closed now, his grip on you firm, but warm. Your body itself is starting to burn with pleasure the more you’re ridden, and soon you feel yourself letting go entirely. Your moans slip endlessly into your doctor’s hungry mouth, feeding his desire to hear you sing for him. All that enters your ears are moans, deep breaths, wet pumps, and steady, rhythmic shuffling as Yosuke’s body and clothes move against yours. You feel not only your body, but your mind going numb at the sensation of being fucked. After what feels like an eternity of being ridden, you finally feel yourself ready to come. Without even having to hear it from you, Yosuke seems to notice this. He opens his eyes as he pulls away from you and catches sight of the weariness and pleasure plastered on your face, your mouth agape as you suck in breath, your eyes utterly glazed over.

He smiles between his breathy pants as he watches your defeat, and only then does he lean in and whisper,

“Rose, I’m going to come. Please take every drop I give you.”

Yosuke pulls your torso even closer to him and grips your scalp firmly as he holds your head to his chest. His pumping pace quickens as he starts to become utterly aroused, and again, you feel his cock pulsing and ready to spurt its juices inside of you. Together, the both of you reach your peak, with you gasping and wailing girlishly into the air while Yosuke groans and grunts loudly. Tightly, he holds you. Lovingly, he fucks you. Not once does he stop until every bit of his cum has been pumped into your body, until he’s certain that every drop of it is resting inside you.

For as long a time as it felt like to be taken, everything seems to end in an instant. You’re left breathless and warm in your doctor’s arms, yet your lower body feels utterly disgusting. Used.

“Are you alright, Rose?” You hear Yosuke murmur as you remain focused mindlessly on his chest, your head still leaning into it where it was placed. You say nothing to the man, still upset despite how good being fucked felt in the moment. You glance down at your hand pressed against Yosuke’s chest and watch as the fingers on it curl just slightly into your palm. Even though you should be happy your ability to move is slowly coming back, you still feel defeated enough for it not to help your suffering now.

Quietly, Yosuke shuffles your body over, turning it again on the cushion and letting you lie flatly on your back. Still straddling you, he sweetly runs a hand along your cheek and watches you with a gentle smile.

“You’re beautiful, Rose,” he compliments you sweetly. “And don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you tomorrow. After your shot, you’ll be resting in your bed for a while. We’ll have a little more time to spend together.”

Yosuke stops petting your cheek and moves his hands against the cushion.

“I’ll be pulling out now, my dear,” he gives fair warning. When you don’t respond again, he merely continues to do as he said and slowly retracts from your pussy, letting both your juices dribble out of it. He looks down at the mess and chuckles.

“My, there’s quite a lot,” he notes in amusement. I suppose I was a little excited to fill you up, my pet. I’ll clean it up in a bit.”

He places his hand on your abdomen sweetly.

“Let my seed rest inside you a moment, Rose. I’ll go clean myself off then come back to get you. I should certainly change you out of that pretty dress and clean you off before taking you back to your room.”

Again, you continue to say nothing, merely shifting your eyes away and trying desperately to get the rest of your body to move again. You realize now that Yosuke had lied about there not being some sort of failsafe for situations like this, where someone might get locked behind the gate. It’s not surprising he’d lie. Though, you wonder just how the gate can be opened. Certainly, he won’t be stupid enough to let you see.

Yosuke watches as your fingers curl, opening up and again closing slowly as you try to focus on the motion. He says nothing of it while zips himself back up, but you’re sure he’s entertained by you. Without a word, your doctor puts his shoes and glasses back on, then leaves you a moment. You remain laying there on the cushion, full of cum, surrounded by light and flowers. You’re not the least bit tired after having practically slept half the day away, but you’re none too eager to get up now, even if you could. Everything you fought against happened anyway, so what else is there for you to do? Give up? Cry?

Eight would probably reprimand you for being such a baby. He’d probably just tell you to try harder. It’s not exactly easy, though, is it? Even the other Numbers might understand why it’s hard for you to just do what you know you have to.

You want to know how to fight so diligently, yearn to have that skill. You feel as though it’s getting harder to the more your doctor toys with you like this. Yosuke read you like a book tonight. To a horrifying degree, he knows you well. Is it pointless to fight a battle like that? Where your enemy knows everything you’re thinking and feeling? Where they can easily turn the tide against you? You’re not sure.

At the very least, you enjoy the silence now. You relish in the chance to rest yourself after being lovingly raped. Between your legs, there’s still this disgusting wetness lingering. You continue to try curling and opening your fingers, trying to concentrate on the act and not linger on everything that was said and done to you tonight. Even being able to move on your own after all this has happened will leave you with some miniscule victory. To regain control of yourself would be like a breath of fresh air. Besides, you’re too frustrated by everything now, and having to face it right away is only going to hurt you more. You did well to stifle your crying in the hall, so maybe now you can work on strategically stifling your emotions. Not to a hurtful degree, right Cyrus? Lav? No, you wouldn’t hold it all in and hurt yourself. It’s just for now. You promise.

You close your eyes a moment and concentrate on your arm now. Slowly, you lift it up until your palm is outwardly reaching the light spilling over the planters and onto you. When you re-open your eyes, you see nothing but the shadow of your arm above you, the light spilling past it and into your face, making distinguishing any color on your flesh difficult. Again, you curl your fingers in your palm and extend them, finally happy to be making progress.

Now that you can move at least your arm, you reach your hand over to the rose in your hair and pluck it out, bringing the beautiful thing back to your face and examining it thoroughly. Seeing it now only disgusts you, and so you crush its delicate petals in your hand and let it fall somewhere beside you. Once this is done, you continue to work yourself through until you’re finally able to wriggle around just slightly. Unfortunately, when you’ve reached an acceptable point of mobility, Yosuke returns to you.

You’re not at all happy to see him, even scowling when he looks at you. But you don’t want to talk anymore. You’re in no mood now. Yosuke merely wants to take care of you now that he’s finished using you, likely fantasizing about treating you like his little doll. So, you wearily let him. You just want to get to bed. At least there, he’ll leave you alone. Even if just for a little while.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, my pet,” He coos, taking your body into his arms. As always, he ferries you like a princess, holding you sweetly and close. By now, he’s aware that you can move, yet he relishes in your willing motionless. Does he think he’s won? Maybe he has. You don’t know what to think now. You don’t really want to think at all, in fact.

You’re taken to the showers in the gym, and it feels wrong to be there with your doctor. Still, you cooperate now, letting Yosuke undress and wash you as he wants to, if only to make all this end faster. You blush and wince at being touched sweetly while water runs along your body, but don’t bother to fight back. After a while, everything finally ends, and Yosuke helps to re-dress you in your gown. You’re not sure if he picked from any of the cubbies where replacement gowns are, or if he went back to get your old one. Once you’ve been dressed, Yosuke runs his fingers through your wet hair to untangle it, then kisses your head sweetly.

“Good girl, Rose,” he praises your obedience and lightly pets your head. You feel disgusting hearing him say this to you now, but don’t bother to respond. You even let the man help you stand, now that you’re able to move fully. “One more thing, though.”

From his pocket, Yosuke pulls out an extremely small glass jar with a black, twistable lid, almost the same size as the cup Jonathan gave you to drink the anesthetic from when he visited you. In the glass thing is the familiar liquid with its faint green tint. Yosuke hands the thing to you and smiles.

“Something of a nightcap,” he explains. “It’s just a little bit, to help you get some sleep, my dear. I’m sure you’re not very tired, but it’s best you rest your head a little. They’ll expect you to be rested for your injection, after all.”

You hesitate a moment after your experience with the wine. Even so, at least the man’s openly giving you the drug rather than cheekily forcing it on you another way. You quietly untwist the cap of the jar and swig the familiar, flavorless liquid inside. Again, Yosuke praises you and pats your head.

“I’ll take you back to bed,” he tells you gently. “I’ll clean up and check on your mother after. I’m sure she’ll wake up in a little while. I’d rather not be around when she does.”

Though you’ve been obedient to the man since your time in the gardens, you pull away from your doctor when he reaches to pick you up and carry you again.

“Please, just let me walk this time,” you ask him lowly. “Just for now.”

Yosuke chuckles and pets your head again.

“As you like, my Rose. I’ll let you have at least that.”

In silence, you’re led back to your room. When you leave the gym, you notice that the gate has already been opened. Of course Yosuke wouldn’t let you see how he opened the gate from here, but now you’re left wondering just how he did. A hidden switch? A secret code? You won’t get to know.

It feels no different trudging down the hall now than it has before. Leaving the dim recreational rooms behind, it almost seems like you’re returning back to form, as if nothing at all happened. You’re merely going back to your bed after a long day. That’s all, right? Maybe now that this is over, Yosuke won’t act so strangely to you again. Or at least, not be this drastic. Even he seemed to be aware that what he was doing was completely out of line. Even if he continues to hover over you, you’d be happy to never have him do something like this again.

There’s a lingering, uncomfortable silence between you and Yosuke that persists until you finally reach your room. For a moment, you look down the hall and wonder whether you could get away with running, with nobody around to stop you. Mom’s asleep, the other doctors are gone, and the men who could genuinely threaten you aren’t even here. However, you refuse. You’ll not leave the others behind just to get away from your doctor.

Yosuke opens the bedroom door for you, and as it slides open, your heart begins to beat faster until the interior of the area is fully revealed. You notice that all the paper left on the floor after your outburst has since been cleaned up. Even though it’s only been about a day, it still feels like it’s been so long since you last were here. You even hesitate a moment to enter the room, but Yosuke urges you forward. Before he leaves you, he leans forward and gives your cheek one last kiss.

“I’ll be here for you when you wake up, my dear,” he promises you.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, refusing to turn around and still staring at the floor.

“No,” is Yosuke’s blunt response. “It’ll be fine. We’ve done this many times before. He will be overseeing your procedure. He knows it well.”

“Will I have to meet him again?” You shudder slightly, taking a step into your room. Again, Yosuke answers, “No.”

“You’ll be asleep the whole time,” he says. “It’s better that way.”

Yosuke then laughs gently, his voice low and sweet.

“Now goodnight, my dearest. I love you.”

The cold metal door shuts behind you and promptly locks, sending a shiver down your spine. In your silence now, you breathe a sigh of relief. However, you end up clutching your abdomen slightly and grimacing at the earlier memory of Yosuke’s pregnancy talk. If you do end up pregnant, perhaps you’ll get your memory wiped the way Cyrus had said Sienna did. Maybe you’ll start at square one again once whatever happens to your body is over. You admit, starting over with the other Numbers would be sad, but…they’re doing a little better now, aren’t they? Maybe it’ll be nice to meet them again when they’re all together, rather than separated. It might take time to get used to Violet and Eight’s straightforwardness again, but that wouldn’t be so bad. The only downside is that you’d have to learn to hate your doctor again too. But if Eight really cares about you, he’ll help you fight him even after your memory has gone.

But if you die…

No, you don’t want to think about this option right now. It’s too sad. You’d be leaving everyone behind, and you don’t want to do that. Still, something like that is out of your control so long as you’re at the mercy of the doctors. You’re also not sure what scares you more: the thought of getting pregnant at all, or the thought of losing everyone you care about. Both, you find, are equally horrifying. There must be some way for you to prevent getting pregnant. Even so, it’s been long enough that there’s a chance you can’t anyway, right? You really hope so.

Moving back to Yosuke mentioning the shot tomorrow, you recall the earlier discussions you had with other Numbers about it. It occurs to you now that you might entirely forget tonight even happened. Is that a good thing? However a plus it might be to forget about tonight, you’d also like not to forget your talk with Violet. It’d be pretty shitty if she referenced it and you had no idea what she was talking about. Still, it’s out of your control as well as pregnancy is. You have no idea what to expect now, but admit you’re fairly scared. Everyone’s gone through this shot, everyone’s said it just leaves you feeling a bit woozy and sluggish for a few days. What’s the problem? Why are you afraid?

You bring the hand on your stomach to your forehead and sigh. There’s too much to deal with right now. In any case, you’re starting to get tired again. Evidently, the anesthetic is slowly beginning to work. You wonder just how much you have to take for it to kill you. Yosuke already gave you a strong dose, and then you just got another small one. Even Cyrus had dealt with this when Mom drugged him twice. You suppose now it’s your turn.

While you await your inevitable slumber, you glance at your desk in the corner and are surprised to see that the journal is still there, only it’s missing a handful of pages and is fairly worn out with how roughly you handled it. You walk toward your desk and note that the journal’s cover has dents and folds along it. Hesitantly, you reach over and open the thing to a fresh, if fairly crumpled page. You stare at the object in anger, yet find that you don’t have the strength to be angry anymore after today.

You wish Yosuke had thrown this journal out when he clearly saw you didn’t want it. Perhaps he kept it here as a favor to Gale. You have no clue why it’s still here. Even moreso, you have no idea why you’re bothering to interact with the thing now.

You push the seat at your desk aside and open your drawer to find a lone pen there. Taking it in your hand, you reach over to the journal page with the pen’s tip, but hesitate a moment. What could you possibly write? What do you even have to say that you haven’t already?

You sigh. This is pathetic. You ought to just sleep. There’s no reason to be doing this. There’s no inclination you have to write a thing. Nothing much matters in a place like this. Nothing you can do will wholly alleviate your suffering enough to free you of misery. Even for as much as you love your friends, it’s taxing to be here. You can’t say you don’t want to keep fighting—you still don’t want to end up like Amber, like Jade, like anyone else that Cyrus has lost. You don’t want anyone else to be that way either.

But what’s the point of living in a place like this anyway? You’ll never get to see the sun, never get to go out and experience what it’s like to live a normal life. Never meet new people, never have a birthday, never get to take a stroll in the park, never get to sleep in a bed you made yourself with someone who loves you. Nothing matters. Yosuke, all the doctors, and especially the two strange men you met recently have done everything to rob you of a normal life. You can’t ever go back to it. You’re here to be a puppet for a sick man, to be drugged up and monitored like an animal. Why are you here? Why is anyone here?

You grip your pen angrily thinking of all of this. You want to cry, but you’re so tired that you just can’t bring yourself to right now. For once, you’ve been dried out.

After having reflected on this a moment, after standing frustratedly before your desk for a good while, you bring yourself to write at least one thing before your exhaustion forces you to lie down again:

I hate you.

Chapter 50: Injection

Everything is heavy. You can’t even fully bring yourself to open your eyes, and your senses feel utterly dulled. It seems you can’t muster the strength to move your body at all, though you don’t even want to bother rising with how phenomenally groggy you are. Everything seems jumbled, and even though you can hear words being spoken in low tones above you, they’re difficult to make out and sound muffled. Foggy. The only thing you can really gather is that you’re laying down on your left side. But with how heavy you feel, you’re almost convinced you’re being pressed into whatever it is you’re lying on.

“She still needs more?” you hear a muffled, cloudy voice question with an almost concerned tone. “Honestly…”

Wearily, you open your eyes, but can’t seem to fully open them to glimpse everything. Peeking through a slightly lifted veil of black, you’re unable to completely process much of what you see as bright light invades your pupils. When you can finally adjust yourself to it just enough to see more, you find that your vision is slightly blurry, unfocused, and restricted. You’re so exhausted and weak, so dazed and confused that you can’t even tell where you are. Slowly, you move your eyes to the right in an attempt to see who’s hovering above you, but all you can make out are red circles in a sea of black. Four of them.

“Deal with it,” a deep, muffled voice pushes through into your ears. You can’t exactly process thought now, but you know this voice. “I’ll let you take things from here.”

You suddenly feel someone moving your shoulder down to expose your neck, followed by a light prick against your skin. Too foggy to comprehend a thing, you again close your eyes, feeling your body beginning to shut down not too long after feeling this pricking pain. You hear something that sounds like rubber and fabric being tussled about, followed by a light breath. The voice of the person who’s made this noise, the second voice, is now only somewhat clearer now. Even so, it’s still dulled by your dizzied sense of hearing.

“Come up afterward. I need you.”

Not long after this, your body completely shuts down again.

---

Slowly paced beeping is all you hear next. Almost as if waking you from a trance, the light noises bring you back into consciousness. You feel ever groggy, but are at least a small fraction more aware now than you were before. Your body is still sluggish and immobile, but you’re able to see and hear a bit better. Was what you experienced earlier even real? You almost wonder whether you’d been dreaming then. Are you dreaming now?

No, you’re still here at the facility. You’re sure of it. Escaping this place wouldn’t be so easy.

The beeping that continues to sound is steady and rhythmic, but only occasionally pops up and isn’t super distracting. Almost like an afterthought if anything. It’s difficult to tell with how tired you are now, but you feel something covering your finger, and strange objects on your chest. Smooth and padded, with wires extending from them, you think. A few of them are brushing against the skin on your stomach and side, making you think they’re extending off to the right. In addition to these unfamiliar sensations, you’re also starting to notice that someone’s touching you. Where?

It takes a moment for you to really focus on it while you’re still barely coming to, but you eventually pinpoint the sensation. Now realizing that your lower body is being felt by latex gloves, you force your eyes to open in spite of how heavy they feel. You can only get them partially open, but it’s absolutely enough for you to see what you need to.

Bright light again invades your vision, taking a moment to settle gradually. The first thing you notice once the light no longer wholly impedes your vision is a large metal set of double doors somewhere a good few feet in front of you. Ones possibly a bit larger than what you’ve seen before, but you can’t quite recall in your state. The doors are slightly obstructed by the figure of a person whom you can’t wholly make out yet while your vision is still adjusting. Their head is down, but you think they have light blond hair.

There are white walls by the doors before you that extend quite a long way outward, but you’re unable to move your head around to see what room you’re in. Shifting your eyes wearily to the left, you see only large metal cabinets of some sort for storage. You can catch the glimpse of a white countertop corner further left, but nothing much else but the wall and the cabinets are visible from where you are.

Shifting your eyes right now, you catch some kind of machine out of the corner of your eye with a black screen displaying numerical data of some sort. With the way lines upon the screen appear to bob with each occasional beep, you presume it’s there that the sound is coming from, and that you’re being monitored. Even knowing this, the screen’s numerical displays are completely nonsensical to you.

From the machine are wires leading under your scrunched-up rose gown, which you’re starting to notice has been lifted above your waist. This has left your lower body fully accessible to whoever it Is working you there. Whatever it is that’s being done to you is unclear, but you’re not the least bit okay with it.

What you do notice when your vision finally fully adjusts makes your heart beat a bit faster. The machine that’s been beeping only on occasion now beeps quite a bit more and at a much faster pace, causing the person working your lower body to stop what they’re doing and look up. You half-expect to see the doctors’ boss with the light hair in your field of vision, but when it turns out not to be him, you wonder whether seeing the frightening man would have been a good thing. Perhaps it’s better that it isn’t him.

You are almost unable to tell right away just who it is, only able to make out blond hair and light brown eyes at first. You realize now that it’s Nathaniel. His coat is on this time, and closed enough so that his distinguishable mulberry dress shirt is fairly hidden. Since his head was low, you didn’t notice the deep color poking through the top of his coat.

To your dismay, one of Nathaniel’s gloved hands is on your lower abdomen, while the other…You can more clearly feel now that a few of his fingers are inside of you.

You start to realize that your legs are spread on the chair you’re in, your heels resting in grooved pedals to keep you open. Too weary to protest or move away, you lay there helplessly in fear with your arms at your sides, resting against the chair’s padded surface. You have no clue what’s happening, but you’re starting to panic silently with how quickly your heart is beating and how heavily you’re beginning to draw in breath.

Nathaniel’s light brown eyes fixate on you with a bit of surprise, though he seems to do his best to hide this expression and tries instead to smile kindly for you. He retracts his fingers from inside you and reaches slightly up with his other one to try to coax you out of panicking.

“Relax, Ten,” he urges with a gentle tone to keep you calm. He glances briefly at the screen by you before returning his attention back to you. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I was just finishing up with giving you a quick examination.”

He quietly removes his gloves and sets them aside on a tray atop a wheeled cart somewhere beside you. Now that you’re able to gather things a little better, you can see that Nathaniel has been sitting in some black, wheeled stool while looking you over. He leans in slightly and rests his hand back on your stomach.

“I do this for all our female patients, it’s alright,” he again tries to calm you. Your heartbeat does slow to a slightly more moderate pace now that you can safely assess that you’re not in any danger, though you’re still fairly unnerved. The machine by you seems to reflect your lowering heart rate, it’s incessant beeping again returning to a regular, but far less frequent pace.

Nathaniel smiles gently.

“That’s it,” he praises kindly. “I assume you can hear me then. I’m just here to take care of you a little that’s all. I was brought in to examine you while you were in recovery, since it’s been a good while since you arrived anyway. We figured it was easier to do this after your shot. We usually don’t prefer our patients be conscious for this with how uncomfortable it tends to be for them anyway. It just makes things easier.”

I’ve already had it? you wonder. This strikes you as strange. You can vaguely remember the other Numbers saying you’d be utterly immobile and foggy for a while. Granted, you do feel awful. You still can’t even bring yourself to move with how sluggish you feel. But you’re certainly aware enough to register what’s being said to you. To wake up now strikes you as odd. Aren’t you supposed to stay asleep for a while?

Nathaniel continues to speak warmly with you, his voice soft and low.

“You’ll be very happy to know, Ten—you’re quite clean.”

Clean? You’re taken aback by this sudden statement, shaken from your previous thought.

“Your sexual organs are all healthy,” the mulberry-shirted doctor clarifies with a polite tone, having read the confused expression on your face that you didn’t’ even realize you were giving off. “And, most importantly, you won’t be a mother just yet. I can’t predict if you’re infertile, but we’ll find out eventually. We’re going to give it a bit more time to see how things go. Alright?”

You’re almost relieved hearing this, closing your eyes a moment and exhaling breath through your nose. However, you’re sure the risk of impregnation is still there, so this relief is only temporary. To evade a pregnancy now could be mere luck as much as it could be a sign of any infertility. You remember Cyrus explaining that Jade hadn’t seemed fertile before she was suddenly carrying. You hold on desperately to the hope that you can’t conceive, that you don’t end up like she did. The ability to might be a death sentence for you here. Even if getting pregnant could help you learn what happened to her and Sienna, it would also mean completely disconnecting from everyone you’ve come to know.

This train of thought only distresses you, and so you try putting it aside to focus on what’s happening now. When you open your eyes again, you notice Nathaniel looking at you almost worriedly, whereas he’d only seemed surprised by your waking a moment ago. He then looks up and somewhere behind you.

“Doctor Marcellus,” he calls, making you widen your eyes in surprise of your own. Maybe it was the beeping that kept you from hearing anyone behind you, or perhaps it was Nathaniel’s presence that distracted you. Either way, you’d not noticed any other presence in the room. You hadn’t thought anyone else was in here with you. No less someone you’ve never met.

“Mm?” A deep yet somewhat airy voice rings out. “What is it?”

Nathaniel rises from his stool now.

“Is…is this supposed to happen?” He questions with genuine confusion. “They’re not supposed to wake up like this.”

You hear a few footsteps from behind you slowly drift toward where you are, the sound of flat, hard shoes stepping against the cold white floor. The doctor Nathaniel’s speaking to moves beside him, to your right, and glances briefly at you in assessment with his dark eyes. Your heart almost skips a beat when you see that it’s the pistol-wielding man you met before. Despite struggling to recall certain things now, his visage is utterly unmistakable and one you wholly remember.

Unlike how you’d met him prior, the dark-haired man is dressed in a coat that completely hides the holsters hanging from his shoulders that you recall seeing him with. This strikes you as odd—is he a hitman or mercenary as well as a doctor? You hadn’t expected him to be so. Unless shooting a gun is easier than it seems and can be done by anyone. You wouldn’t know.

In the man’s hand is a clipboard which he’s holding firmly between the folds of his bent elbow and his curled fingers. After just briefly looking at your face and eyeing the rest of your body, he again glances back at his clipboard, turning his attention back to it as if you interest him very little. With his other hand, he presses his pen against the flat object he’s holding and begins to scribble notes at an incredible speed.

“Hm, that is strange,” he murmurs in thought. “Perhaps there’s some physiological resilience we failed to account for. Odd, seeing as she’s such a weak thing.”

You’re too focused on the fear you feel at the sight of this man to really be angry at his casual insult of you.

“But outliers are hardly foreign in my experience,” he goes on. “They’ve rarely been troublesome, so I’m not too concerned. We’ll find out what’s happening soon enough. We just have to make a few corrections and account for it in the future. Nothing more.”

“…Right…” Nathaniel almost seems like he doesn’t believe this, his eyes dropping slightly as though he’s starting to think to himself.

Now that things fall silent, your focus goes back to the pistol-wielding man’s face, and you’re again reminded of what he did. Upon the recollection of it, your heart rate increases, and the machine beside you begins to incessantly beep. Marcellus, whose first name you’re not sure of, gives a bit of a sigh at this and moves the hand holding the pen toward the screen. He makes a few quick tapping motions upon the thing, but you’re unable to register what he’s doing from the corner of your eye until the machine’s beeping pace subsides again to a point that it’s only occasionally making noise. However, your heart continues its pounding pace. You’re assuming all he did was shut you up.

“Honestly,” Marcellus frowns, glancing down at your frightened face now that his focus has been taken from his notes. “Making a fuss over nothing.”

“Doctor?” Nathaniel again looks up at the man with light worry. Thinking upon it now, you’re surprised he noted the very thing you did. In fact, he seems entirely concerned that you’re awake when you shouldn’t be. Are you that much of a stupid fuckup that even your body doesn’t respond to things properly?

As it is, you’ve not always reacted perfectly to the anesthetic. You’ve fallen asleep late before, or woken up too early. Are you even resilient to some degree to this as you have sometimes tended to be with the anesthetic? In that case, it would surprise you little that whatever they injected you with, whatever they did to your head during your procedure, didn’t do precisely what they wanted. Or, at least, it didn’t affect you as badly as it likely should have if you’re this aware.

That should be alarming to them, as it certainly seems so to Nathaniel. However, Marcellus doesn’t seem to be the least bit concerned for some reason. He merely waves his hand impatiently at Nathaniel’s insistence.

“Yes, I know,” he says firmly. He’s being strangely rougher and colder in tone than you remember him being. He’d smiled eerily at you before. Now, he seems stern. “I’ll make a note on it and keep her file open for review. I know what to do and I’ll deal with it.”

Not giving Nathaniel a chance to respond, Marcellus lifts his head up and motions it somewhere to your left.

“Nurse!” He calls, his voice sharper now. “General anesthetic. Ten milliliters.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widen slightly.

“Doctor Marcellus, that’s too much,” He warns. His usually suave and kind demeanor is far gone now. His concern for you almost makes him seem like a different person. “A couple is more than enough if we only need her to sleep a little longer. She’s just had a procedure. We need to be more careful about-”

“I know what I’m doing,” Marcellus retorts sharply. “I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust me, so you ought to as well. I won’t give her the entire thing. And you’re wrong. It’s nowhere near too much. The limit we set for you isn’t lethal. Our patient will be completely fine.”

“I don’t question either statement, but…last time- “

“That sounds very much like a question, Doctor Miles” Marcellus interrupts the man harshly, his eyes lightly narrowing. “I'm fully aware. We've since reworked the dosages, but that’s hardly your concern. Don’t ask about things that are outside of your expertise. Finish your task and leave as he instructed. You have your own Number to care for, yes?”

Last time…? You wonder what they mean, but are too sluggish and groggy to really think hard about it.

Nathaniel sighs, but doesn’t fight the man. “Yes. I’m pretty much done. Everything looks normal. There aren’t any complications.”

Marcellus’ tone then changes from haunting and harsh to something strangely more casual. “Perfect. Give your report to Vanessa to file. I’ll contribute my portion later when I figure this out.”

Footsteps against the hard, white floor again invade your ears, though they sound far lighter now. Worriedly, you shift your eyes to the left and watch with horror as an unfamiliar figure finally emerges from the corner of your eye: a stranger holding a small metal tray with a syringe and a vial of the anesthetic, as requested by Marcellus. The figure itself leaves you breathless. It looks almost like a cleanup worker, only…different?

Like the workers you’ve known, they’re dressed in black and white, hooded, and masked. Only, this figure’s mask has one stark difference than the ones you’ve seen on cleanup workers—the opening over the eyes of the mask resembles lab goggles, ones flat upon the thing itself as if embedded in it. You’re unable to see the eyes of the person behind the mask otherwise. This particular figure is also far skinnier than the other workers you’ve seen. Feminine. Although their arms and legs are exposed because of their puffier short sleeves and a flat skirt hem that hangs just above their knees, the figure’s skin is covered by black cloth, and their hands have what look to be short and solid white latex gloves. As expected in a worker, not one bit of skin is visible.

The figure has two small straps close to their neck region which you assume is keeping their dress closed, items strangely not present on the cleanup workers which leave you to believe they’re as much a stylistic addition as they are a functional one. From what you can see upon eyeing this figure up and down, their feet are dressed in white boots rather than black, ones a little less bulky than what the cleanup workers wear. This figure almost seems gentler in shape to you. They almost look like…a nurse. You suppose that’s why Marcellus referred to them as one. The nurse looks a little friendlier than the cleanup workers do, but the lack of apparent humanity in their surface appearance does little to comfort you. You also can’t imagine why there are nurses when the doctors do most of the work. At least, it sure seems that way.

The nurse hands Marcellus the tray, moving her hands over your body to do so. The dark-haired doctor puts his pen and clipboard down beside Nathaniel’s gloves, and plucks the empty syringe and vial off of the tray being offered to him. He begins to open the vial and pierce its top with the syringe’s needle to start sucking what you hope is the anesthetic into the cylindrical thing. The syringe is even bigger than the ones you’re used to, but you can’t quite remember if it’s the same size as the one Marcellus used on you before or not. Even so, it’s fairly thick between his bare fingers. But, as stated, he doesn’t exactly fill the entire thing.

The nurse pulls back slightly with the small tray still in her hands and awaits her next task. Meanwhile, Nathaniel quietly moves his stool away, then begins bringing your limp legs carefully out of the pedals of the chair you’re in. He instead sets them down on a padded surface between them before reaching over to where his discarded gloves are to grab something. You realize with embarrassment that it’s your underwear, but Nathaniel luckily re-dresses your lower body before pulling your gown back down over your legs for you.

“If you see Chisaka, tell him we’re almost ready,” Marcellus instructs him while lightly flicking the syringe in his hand. Once he’s done this, he starts pushing your head to the side so that he can begin injecting you. “He should be on standby. I doubt he’s eager to be anywhere else but at this one’s side.”

Nathaniel gives a nod but says nothing and moves elsewhere in the room, somewhere behind the chair you’re in. You hear running water for a moment and are left to assume he’s started washing his hands.

Your heart continues to beat wildly in your refocus on Marcellus, but you can’t bring yourself to move with how exhausted you feel. Even if you’re aware of what’s happening, you admit it’s almost unreal to you, as if all of this is a mere dream. It’s only the sharp pain in your neck that reminds you it isn’t.

Marcellus stares at you, fully focused as he pumps your body with the syringe’s contents. Even if it is just the anesthetic, you’re tired of being tired. You feel as though you’ve just been constantly asleep for days. How much of this can your body really take? When will you finally get to wake up? Only they would really know. They control everything, after all.

Once the injection has finished, Marcellus moves your head back to its original position and places both the used syringe and the near-empty vial he drew from back on the nurse’s tray when she brings it forward again. Without having to be told, she takes both things and heads again somewhere behind and to the left of you, disappearing from your sight for the moment.

“Is there anything else he needed me to do?” Nathaniel speaks up as he steps back toward where you are. He reaches over to the cart by your side and brings out a few sheets of paper from a lower portion of it that you can’t make anything out on from where you are.

“No. You’re dismissed,” Marcellus tells him without bothering to look away from you. The blond doctor gives you one last look toward you with his light brown eyes, trying to smile politely so as to calm your nerves. However, he soon turns and exits the room. The double metal doors open for him as he approaches them, but you can only see a dim hallway from behind the entrance. There’s no real indication of where you are from what you’re able to see, though Nathaniel goes left upon exiting.

You wish he hadn’t left you alone with Marcellus. You don’t trust him. And, after what happened with Jay, you have no idea what he might do. However, as if reading your mind, the man looks down upon you and finally smiles his eerie smile. For as gentle as it is, it’s far more unsettling than any of the other doctors’ visages.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you with an air of falsified sweetness. “I won’t hurt you. Unless you give me a reason to. But…”

He runs a hand somewhat roughly along the top of your head.

“You’re weary from your procedure, so you’re hardly a threat,” he tells you, almost condescendingly despite his feigned sweet visage. “Watching my patients fall into a helpless slumber is enticing for that reason, you know. They have to remind themselves they’re mortal, insignificant. Weak. No matter how strong they are, everyone sleeps. Sometimes, just permanently. There’s hardly a difference to me.”

You want to speak in protest, horrified at his allusion to what happened the last time you two met. But, you find that you can’t bring yourself to bother with the state you’re in. Your heart merely continues to pound incessantly, and again, the machine beside you begins to beep despite being silenced earlier. This makes Marcellus frown.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack that way,” he warns, again fiddling with the screen to make the beeping stop. “You’ve no reason to be so afraid. I said I won’t hurt you. I’m only here now as a medical professional. I’m here to monitor you. So relax.”

He places his hand on your abdomen.

“You should be grateful you’re not housing something inside of you. We wouldn’t much like that. So be happy. You’ll go back to your pretty little dreams soon. Your doctor will take care of you shortly.”

Marcellus smirks slyly at your horrified, but utterly exhausted expression. He watches you a moment, but eventually turns his focus away from you. He instead looks up toward the nurse and addresses her promptly, calling her to him. Obediently, the worker comes to the man’s side and stands before him, her hands placed atop one another in front of her thighs.

“N3?” You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but he sounds like he’s guessing it.

The nurse nods silently. You’re not quite sure, but she briefly and subtly turns her head toward you, possibly to look upon you quietly. Marcellus strokes his chin.

“I believe you’re due,” he murmurs to himself in thought. You’re starting to feel your eyelids grow heavier the longer you lay there, your heartbeat slowing gradually. Even though you were barely aware enough to process everything on a surface level, the drug taking its effect now is starting to shirk your ability to at all. You almost feel as though you’re hallucinating everything that’s happening.

Marcellus continues to address the nurse now. “I don’t need you any longer for today. Leave me and finish your sect work as he instructed you. I’ll be seeing you later.”

The nurse’s puffy-sleeved shoulders rise slightly as she expresses a subtle eagerness to these words. She bows her head just barely enough to indicate understanding, then heads out of the room as Nathaniel had. However, she turns right in the hall, rather than left.

By this point, you’re unable to keep your eyes fully open and let them slowly close. You can still hear somewhat, and Marcellus seems to be aware of this. Briefly, you feel his hand press against the back of the chair you’re sitting on as he no doubt leans over you to observe your dwindling state of consciousness.

“Sweet dreams, little princess” he lightly laughs. The way he speaks this title for you sounds condescending moreso than it does jesting, and you’d like to be upset about it. However, you can’t even think anymore. Everything begins to fade, and as soon as you know it, you’re out. Yet again, you fall into a slumber, weak and unaware to anything around you.

---

It’s unclear for how long you’re out, but you know for certain you didn’t dream. You’d ask how anyone could afford to dream under the influence of all these drugs, but even you have done so before. Still, when you wake next, you again feel too weary to bother moving. You can’t even fully process much, and your body feels absolutely lifeless and heavy. By no means are you completely aware and content. You almost wonder whether you just got hit by a truck or slammed on the ground somehow with how phenomenally worn out you are. You don’t really even want to wake up now, despite being so frustrated with your incessant in-and-out bouts of consciousness. Will you actually wake up this time, or are you again going to be put under before you have a chance to gather any comprehensible thoughts?

Everything you’ve experienced so far doesn’t even feel real. You almost question whether you really did meet the pistol man, whether you did see Nathaniel or the nurse. What about those red circles? Maybe that was a dream too. You can’t really think on it much with how dizzy your head is. You almost feel the bed or chair or whatever else it is you’re in spinning around while your limbs remain as if they weigh a thousand pounds. Despite knowing you’re laying still, you feel as though you’re being shoved violently around by invisible hands.

You finally decide that you want to try moving. You don’t like the way it feels to be spun around like this, left feeling confused and tumbling, yet horrendously weighted and glued to whatever you’re lying on. Slowly and with as much force as you can muster, you try to move your limbs and digits a little. You manage to shift your arm up and reach something cold and metal that feels almost like a bar, and immediately you curl your fingers tightly around the thing. Everything still weighs heavily on you, yet you continue to try shifting up in the hopes that getting off of what you’re lying on will free you from your weighted physical torment.

Slowly, you move your other hand to where the metal bar is and pull yourself further. You suppose it was stupid to do this, because suddenly, you find yourself falling over the edge of whatever you were lying on. It happens in an instant, yet you can clearly feel and perceive every sensation between your body tumbling over the edge of what you now assume is a bed, and you hitting the cold floor. You fall on your stomach, only saving your head from injury with your arms and hands in the way. As you hit the floor, you let out a pained grunt, and it’s this ordeal that helps you wake up a bit more. Your eyes promptly shoot open despite how heavy they feel, and for a moment, all you perceive is white.

You lay on the floor, on your stomach, gasping and breathing heavily through your mouth as you try to recover from falling. You no longer feel the weightedness now that you’re moving, but you still have to put up with enormous dizziness that leaves you dazed and confused.

“Ngh…” You groan as you try to push yourself up. You’re too weak to even support your own weight, so you merely lie there, breathing out and letting the surface of the floor by your mouth pick up a small pool of condensation as you heat it with your breath.

You don’t know how long you lay there, but you eventually hear a door opening, followed by a sharp, concerned voice calling out,

“Ten!”

Promptly, you hear the sound of paper flapping about before something hard drops to the floor with a loud crashing sound. Two hands quickly pick your torso up, and you feel yourself get turned over and steadied in the arm of whoever’s with you. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light around you, and even when they do, everything still appears fairly cloudy and muddled. However, you finally see your doctor holding you up while kneeling and hovering over you with a worried expression on his face. Seeing him fills your heart with dread, but you’re too groggy and out of it to think properly about why.

Yosuke cups your cheek as he assesses you. You think he’s asking if you’re alright, but you’re too tired to process it. You can’t much respond either, merely making weak groans in your paltry attempt at speech. Promptly, you feel your body get lifted by your doctor’s arms, and he carefully lays you back on your bed. By now you can gather by the white color of the room alone that you’re not in your bedroom. Your next best guess is your examination room. Even knowing this does little to assuage you now.

You don’t want to lay on this bed anymore. You’ll just keep feeling dizzy and weighted if you stay on it, won’t you? In your hesitance to stay still, you again try to move about, but Yosuke stops you with a hand to your chest. Gently, he pushes you back on the mattress and says something you can’t entirely make out. You think he’s asking you to lay still.

Weakly, you attempt to tell him you don’t want to, but it only comes out as more fractured, tired moans and murmurs. You feel your doctor rub the back of his hand along your cheek as he hovers over you, blocking some of the light from the ceiling and producing a mere shadow, a silhouette, of himself above you. Slowly, you’re starting to understand him a little more, but can only make out a few words like “stay” and “don’t”.

Still breathing deeply, you feel your chest rise and fall as you finally decide to oblige the man and stay still. Luckily, it seems some progress has been made. You’re still dizzy, but the spinning sensation you felt earlier while on the bed doesn’t appear to make a comeback now despite you expecting it to.

“Ten?”

You hadn’t realized your eyes closed at all, and now they open. Were you asleep? Did you just space out a bit? You’re not sure.

Yosuke’s now sitting by you in a stool, you think. He’s leaning over you, slowly and gently petting your head with one hand while another creeps up toward you. He’s holding something…it’s…

You try to focus on the thing and only become restless and antsy when you realize by the shape and the familiar thin needle alone that it’s a syringe. Your doctor’s attempting to explain something to you, but you can’t make anything out yet other than more fractured words. All you can gather is “shot” and “need”. This only puts you off, and you begin to try resisting Yosuke’s attempt to bring the needle to your body. He appears to try aiming for your leg, so you hesitantly reach over and weakly curl your fingers over his wrist while trying pitifully to move your leg away.

Yosuke pulls back a moment at your struggling. You’re sure he’s asking you to calm down now, but you refuse. Whatever it is he wants to give you, you don’t trust it. You’re not sure why.

With your incessant wriggling, Yosuke heaves a sigh that sounds muffled with your dulled sense of hearing. You watch as he stands to start unbuckling his pants. Your heart beats wildly a moment when you see him pull his slacks down, but he doesn’t do much else than expose his own thigh. He calls out to you again, and you watch wearily as he sticks his own leg with the needle, injecting himself with whatever’s inside the syringe.

“…safe…” is all you’re able to make out from him. You think he’s attempting to show you that he’s not trying to hurt you. Seeing this only makes you slightly less hesitant, so you stop moving around so much and continue to lay there while your doctor pulls his pants back up and moves to get a fresh syringe. You continue to breathe slowly and heavily, staring up at the bright lights above you and wondering if you’re even alive. As ever, nothing feels real. You don’t even know if you’re real right now. You can’t remember a thing with how groggy you feel. All you can focus on is what’s happening now.

Again, your eyes open without you realizing you ever closed them. This time, you’re sure you haven’t fallen asleep, as your doctor is now standing by your body with the syringe in his hand. Gently, he moves toward your gown and lifts its hem to expose your thigh. You give a crackling, fractured whimper as the cold needle pierces your flesh, but Yosuke brings his free hand to one of yours and holds it to comfort you. In response, you grip his hand as firmly as you can muster, still lightly whimpering and babbling incoherently to the man as you endure your injection. You keep trying to ask Yosuke what’s happening, but nothing clear really comes out of your mouth other than slurred noises.

The injection soon ends, and your doctor plucks the syringe from inside you and leans forward. You feel him kiss your forehead and hear his low voice murmur something, but you’re unable to tell what it is. After moving to discard what he used, Yosuke again sits on his stool and watches you closely. Wanting to get comfortable, you shift your body slowly to the side and tuck one hand under your pillows while leaving the other palm-up by your head. The bed feels so comfortable now with how tired you are, you can’t stand it.

Your eyes close wearily. You want to sleep, but you don’t want to actually fall asleep again with Yosuke around. It’s still not clear why right now. Maybe you’ll be able to remember things properly when you’re less worn out.

You wonder whether or not you’re even supposed to be awake now. Is your body just so afraid of letting go that it refuses to stay asleep all of a sudden? Or are you just recovering? You have no idea what’s happening anymore. You can’t process thought much too clearly, you can’t even physically take care of yourself. You can only let your doctor do that now, even if you’d rather not.

For a moment, you hear Yosuke’s voice again and feel his hand gently touch yours. You only really catch the last half of what he says.

“…sleep some more?”

His voice sounds sweet and gentle, lulling to you now. He almost sounds as though he’s talking to a child. You suppose you are one just for now, unable to do a thing for yourself.

Again, time seems to pass as you suddenly feel something warm envelop your body while you lay on your side. Slowly opening your eyes once more, you look down and notice that Yosuke has draped your comforter over you, likely having brought it over from your bedroom.

No—you are in your bedroom. The white of the room you had just seen is now rosy. When did you get here? Did you fall asleep, or are you experiencing gaps in your short-term memory? You can’t really process it right now.

Laying here is so soothing to you now that you can’t help but slip into a gradual slumber. Yosuke’s constant gentle petting of your head certainly doesn’t help either. For as little as you want to be around him now, it’s admittedly so good a sensation that you can’t bring yourself to hate it. Despite having wanted to stay awake, you finally let your eyes droop close. In mere seconds, you again lose consciousness. This time, you’re sure of it.

The next time your mind comes back to some sliver of awareness, you realize that the heaviness over your body has been lifted exponentially, but not completely. At the very least, you’re no longer left feeling too dizzy to function. Groggy and slow, certainly, but you’re able to process things just a little better now and can move yourself around a little easier. You’re far from okay, but this is a nice change of pace from how you felt earlier.

You again slowly open your heavy eyes and are alarmed to find your doctor lying beside you, his coat off. You realize that he’s holding you again, one arm gently wrapped around your waist and holding you close, and the other resting under a pillow. Yosuke’s face looks soft with his eyes closed and his glasses off. His dark hair is fairly tussled about more than usual, and his chest is rising and falling ever so slightly as he breathes. His body is utterly warm against yours. You almost feel comforted by it, but you know better than to be. He’s just tricking you again, isn’t he? He wants you to lean into him again so that he can make fun of you for secretly wanting him.

You merely scowl at this. Of course he would do this to you. You make a weak attempt to rip away from the man, only barely succeeding, and wearily sit up. You half-expect Yosuke to smirk and open his eyes. But he doesn’t.

Hesitantly, you reach a hand over to your doctor’s shoulder and lightly shake him. He doesn’t once budge, merely continuing to softly breathe. Curiously, you bring your hand to his cheek and touch it. He’s fairly warm. Is he really asleep?

No, you refuse to believe it. It has to be a trick. He’s done this before, you think. You’re still pretty foggy enough not to remember everything. You feel as though you’re slowly rebooting yourself like some computer. Hopefully everything will return to you in time.

Still staring at the man, you slowly trail your hand down his cheek and toward his neck, placing your fingers lightly on his flesh there. It’s difficult to understand why you do it, but your mind begins to wander as you linger upon Yosuke’s neck. If he really is asleep, it would be easy just to hurt him now, while he’s vulnerable. But…you’re not sure you could. Are you the kind of person who could kill a man so easily? Even one who does nothing but hurt you? You don’t think so.

Even in all your frustrations, even if you’re willing to hit him back in anger, you don’t think it’d be so easy to hurt him otherwise. Is it hesitance? Fear? Weakness? You have no idea. Ending a life seems like it would be so easy, especially the life of an enemy. For as little as you want to remember this, you are able to vaguely recall your ordeal with Jay through your exhaustion and remember that even the pistol-wielding man had no trouble with murder. But you’re sure someone like him has had time to get over the difficulty of killing. Presuming it was ever hard for him to begin with.

Not wanting to linger on this thought, you drop your hand from Yosuke’s warm skin and decide to try fully getting up. You end up swinging your legs tiredly off the side and pushing yourself off the mattress. For a moment, you almost completely trip and fall over with how tired and out of it you still are, but manage to gather your balance again and stand on your own feet. It seems you’re still utterly groggy enough for even your motor skills to be awful. Even if you’re a little more aware, you’re still utterly weak. Despite this, you refuse to stay in bed and continue to place your hand along the wall to start moving yourself toward your bathroom. When you enter it, you immediately lean on the sink and take long, slow breaths. You don’t really want to look yourself in the mirror right now. You already know you look as shitty as you feel.

At the very least, you try to splash cold water in your face, your hands somewhat shaking as you reach for the faucet. Once you’ve managed to successfully do what you aimed to, you wipe your face off and head back out. The first thing you notice other than your supposedly sleeping doctor is the desk further away from him. His coat has been hung on the back of your desk chair. Upon the desk itself are Yosuke’s folded glasses, a clipboard, a pen, and your journal. The thing almost feels important to you for reasons you can’t recall right now, but you do sense a tinge of unpleasantness toward its presence and don’t want to bother touching it.

You glance briefly at Yosuke’s limp body on the bed, still surprised at his unconscious state. You don’t suppose you’ve ever seen him genuinely asleep before. He almost looks harmless. Peaceful. Perhaps even sweet, if deceptively so. You wonder if he sees the same in you when you sleep.

Still clinging to the wall, you make your way over to your desk, passing the locked door to your bedroom along the way. Once you make it to your destination, you lean on it and look over at the clipboard. There are a few measly pages attached to the thing. Seeing that Yosuke is out, you decide to try peeking at them. It strikes you as odd that he’d fall asleep with any kind of information out in the open. Is this a trick? Is he testing you? Well, if it is a test, you’re going to fail because your desire to understand what you don’t evidently knows no bounds.

Peeking over, you’re disappointed to find that the pages have nothing of value to you anyway. Immediately upon examining them, all you see are handwritten numbers, symbols, and abbreviations that make no sense to you: mmHG, min., oz., g., mL., bid, bp, hr., and inj., to name a few. All of it is too confusing for you to understand and merely hurts your head. A few you can gather the meaning of, but they’re mere measurements. Nothing else is comprehensible.

Following this is a list of, you think, vitamins. You realize then that Yosuke had only been trying to give you a few doses of what you needed like he had before. You remember being afraid of him injecting you while you were completely dizzy. Certainly, you’d not put it past the man to pull something while you were unconscious. At least you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing what he gave you wasn’t bad, but you’re still left wondering if he did anything to your body while you were asleep. You don’t feel any stranger than usual beyond the exhaustion and heaviness.

Other than these more insignificant statistics on the pages before you, the only thing of note you can see is on the last page, where Yosuke has written a few things specifically:

Observed bradycardia

ALOC with slurred speech, confusion, delirium, treatment-related somnolence. No further anesthetic administered for at least 2 days.

Patient fell off her bed and on her stomach but sustained no notable injuries

No other surface complications

Memory

It stops at the last incomplete line. You’re sure Yosuke couldn’t report on much else about how you’re feeling or what you remember with you not entirely aware enough to answer him. In any case, none of this is of use to you, nor do some of the terms really seem comprehensible. It’s disappointing that you can’t get anything out of it.

Sighing, you lean on your desk with both hands and shut your eyes. You don’t feel like being awake right now, but you refuse to sleep more. All you’ve done is sleep, sleep, sleep. Mostly against your will. You’d give anything to be back with the others again. You still remember them, at least.

Suddenly, you hear shuffling behind you, followed by a tired, breathy groan from your doctor’s throat. You don’t bother to get off the desk, knowing that Yosuke will probably know you peeked at his notes for you and knowing that his teasing of you is inevitable right now. It’s not exactly a room you can easily hide from others in.

“Ten…” You hear the man speak up as he pushes off of your bed. “You shouldn’t be up right now.”

You say nothing and slowly open your eyes, continuing to stare mindlessly at your desk. Strangely, your gaze fixates on the worn cover of your journal, but you’re not sure why.

Yosuke’s hand is suddenly felt upon your left shoulder as he gently places it there.

“My dear, you need to rest,” he urges you.

“I don’t want to,” you shake your head, refusing to budge from your place. You’re surprised you’re able to talk, though your voice still sounds utterly weary and mumbling. “I’m so tired of sleeping.”

“Then don’t fall sleep, pet,” your doctor responds, his voice still low and soft. You gasp as he pulls you back and sweeps you off your feet. The sudden motion makes you slightly dizzy, and you close your eyes just a moment to recuperate before you re-open them again. Yosuke merely stares down at you as you’re cradled, giving off a gentle smile as he watches you.

“You still need to lay down at least. Your recovery is still in progress. Let me take care of you.”

Against your will, he whisks you back to the bed and lays you down. Not in the mood to fight him, not even sure you have the strength, you merely lay there and allow Yosuke to pull the comforter back over you.

“You’ve been strangely resilient about getting up this whole time,” he notes with a light chuckle. “Dear, I almost had to tie your legs to stop you from crawling away the day I received you. Luckily, you were so out of it, you fell right back asleep anyway.”

He pets your head, rubbing it back and forth sweetly.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Groggy,” you admit, looking away. “Not as shitty as before, but still shitty.”

“But you remember waking up all those times?”

“I think so. I’m not entirely sure what was real and what wasn’t.”

Your eyebrows lower as you become upset with Yosuke for continuing to pet you.

“How long has it been?” You ask, trying to focus on anything but his touching of you. You hate feeling this weak around him. You can’t really depend on yourself too much right now in your physical state.

“You’ve been out for just a good few days,” Yosuke tells you openly. “I kept you in the examination room for the most part and monitored you closely, but brought you here after I’d finished what I needed to do and saw that you were getting a bit better. I did a quick checkup of you both after receiving you and on the second day, just to keep track of how you were doing. I also gave you some vitamin shots, but you were quite hesitant to let me give them to you. Is there a reason?”

“I can’t remember right now,” you mutter, closing your eyes. It’s the truth, for once. But you have nothing to gain from lying right now anyway. “I just remember not wanting it.”

You open your eyes again and look at the man hovering over you, staring intently at him. Firm.

“Why were you in my bed?” You demand. “You’re supposed to be taking care of me, not sleeping with me.”

“I didn’t touch you, dear,” Yosuke promises with an amused smirk at your accusation. “You know very well I like you to feel every bit of me when I choose to have you. I admit, though, I don’t really remember getting into bed with you. I think I was fairly tired. For as much as I enjoyed watching you, even sitting idly by and filling out paperwork without much sleep can be taxing.”

He then frowns.

“Paperwork you have no business looking at.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen asleep so carelessly then,” you scowl. “Anyway, it’s not anything I understood.”

“I’m not careless, Ten. I knew it was fine. Anything important I needed to record and discuss was already filed. I left these last notes out so I could finish them. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I could talk to you.”

He smiles again.

“I’m happy to see that you’ve regained your speech. But you still seem fairly weak. Are you at least able to process what’s happening clearly?”

“Yes,” You bluntly respond. “Shouldn’t I have been taken back to the hall by now? Everyone else gets to rest there.”

“Because their doctors have other things to do,” Yosuke raises a brow. “Some don’t much care to babysit more than they have to and drop their Numbers off. Others have to minimize their time watching over their Numbers to get work done. A few of us do stay the whole recovery time, though. Keep our Numbers in bed and watch over them. Even I shouldn’t be doing this because I have a lot to do, but I wanted to take good care of you. You know that I enjoy it.”

This surprises you very little. Of course the man would do anything he could to keep you beside him. He practically gets off on treating you like his little doll.

“Now that you’re starting to get a little better, I’m going to need you to tell me what you can remember,” Yosuke says, dropping his hand from your head. “It’s important that I make a note of it”

“Why does it matter? You’d already know what happened if they talked to you.”

Yosuke softly laughs.

“We have to record a lot of things, Rose. Being thorough matters, especially here. I need to hear it from you so that I know how you’re doing and what you can recall from your perspective. Regardless of what I may know.”

…Rose? The name almost seems to come from nowhere. But hearing it now only makes your heart sink. Why?

“Um…O-okay…” you mumble in mindless agreement as you begin to focus on this strange slip of the tongue. Or was it intentional? You’d believe it with someone like Yosuke.

“I…don’t remember a lot,” you admit hesitantly. Uncomfortable with talking to your doctor while laying down like this, you sit up and hold your head. Despite being adamant that you lay down, Yosuke lets you do this.

“I remember…seeing red circles in a dream,” you go on. “Then I woke up in some weird room. I think…Nathaniel was there? And a man. The dark-haired man. I don’t remember his name right now, but I think I heard it.”

“I see,” Yosuke folds his arms. He merely stands beside you, watching your face intently as you speak. “What else?”

“A woman?” You guess. “A worker…I think. A nurse. After that all I remember is you.”

“Do you remember anything said in that room?”

“Something about how I wasn’t supposed to be awake,” you tell your doctor honestly. “I’m sure even you think I shouldn’t have been.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Yosuke raises a brow as he says this. “Not at that moment, and certainly not in your examination room. But I was told not to be too concerned by it and merely instructed to monitor you closely. So far, nothing’s seemed much out of place. Now, do you remember anything from before your procedure?”

“No…” You mutter as you try your damndest to recount it. You think you remember seeing Micah and Lilah and Milos, even Mom and Cyrus. Everything else after is still fuzzy right now. You’re not sure if it’s because of your injection or because of other drugs you’ve been pumped with. “I think…remember having a visit with Micah. After that, nothing much. I only remember faces.”

Yosuke moves back to the desk and reaches over to what’s on it. He first puts his glasses back on, then proceeds to grab the clipboard and pen. Quietly, he scribbles a few more notes at the bottom, leaving you in silence while you stare at him hesitantly. He eventually finishes, then glances up at you.

“Did you see him?”

“Who?” You’re not sure what he means.

“My boss.” Yosuke’s smile is gone for now. In fact, he looks focused. You’re unsure why. You merely shake your head.

“I don’t think I did,” you answer honestly. “Was I supposed to?”

“No,” is your doctor’s blunt response. Finalizing his notes, he lowers his clipboard and sighs. “But you weren’t supposed to wake up either. I’m surprised you saw the other man, and not my superior. But I suppose I did say he was going to be busy. He likely didn’t have time to stick around and left everything else to his partner. He sometimes does.”

“When did you say he’d be busy?” You raise a brow. Yosuke merely looks at you and smiles gently again. He doesn’t really respond, though, and instead grabs his coat. He slings the thing over his shoulder and drops the clipboard in his hand to his side. You watch with worry as he moves toward you and curls his fingers under your chin, lifting it gently. Yosuke watches you with his olive eyes and continues to smile sweetly.

“Rest a little longer, my pet,” he urges you, not at all acknowledging your question now. “I’ll bring you something to eat and drink after I file the rest of this report. Okay?”

You drop your eyes to the side, but give a subtle nod. Yosuke gives your forehead a light kiss before dropping his hand and leaving you on the bed. You merely watch quietly as he disappears from your sight. Even when he’s gone, you don’t necessarily feel a wave of relief. You’re too focused on what’s been happening to let your guard down. You’re unsure why you’re so on edge. Yosuke has always been strange with you. Why is this different?

Despite not wanting to sleep, you find that with nothing to distract your mind and keep you awake now, you’re ready to pass out again. It’s abysmal how tired you’ve been lately. Hopefully soon you’ll return to your normal self.

You’re not sure exactly when you fall asleep or for how long, but when you again wake, Yosuke is by your side, gently nudging your shoulder and speaking softly to you. Again, you feel groggy and out of it. Maybe it’s because you’re just waking up again that this incessant inability to function is again present, so you hope that you’ll eventually become more aware as you wake up more. For now, your doctor sits you up and leans your back against the wall, adjusting your pillow between it and your back.

Still foggy, you feel Yosuke lift your chin up and put something plastic to your lips. It takes a moment to really assess what it is, but as soon as liquid touches your tongue, you’re able to safely determine that it’s water. You’re not sure you’ve had any at all lately, but your body reacts positively to receiving the stuff as you begin to gulp it down readily, even to the point that you’ve taken the entire contents of the bottle into your stomach. Yosuke eventually retracts the empty thing, leaving you to gasp and wearily wipe your mouth

“Rose.”

Your eyes finally open, making you realize they’d been closed. Again, that name shakes you and you can’t understand why.

Leaning your head against the wall now, you turn your head tiredly toward Yosuke and see that he’s again without his coat, though it’s not in the room anymore. He’s hovering over you with a bowl in one hand, trying to urge you to take it. You’re so foggy from waking up that you almost drop it, and it’s this that causes your doctor to retract the thing from your grasp.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t let you hold it,” he chuckles. “Here.”

As you lazily rub your eyes, the sound of your desk chair being rolled forward is heard. When you again look out at the room, you notice that Yosuke has seated himself in the wheeled thing beside your bed, and is now bringing a spoonful of something to your lips.

“I can feed myself,” you mumble tiredly, trying to take the utensil out of Yosuke’s hand. He refuses to let you have it and pulls it away.

“You’re still weak,” he tells you firmly. “But you need to eat. You haven’t.”

“Why…?” You question him, moving your eyes toward his face and staring at him with lowered brows. “Why do I still feel like this? I thought I was getting better.”

“You’re almost there, but not quite,” is your doctor’s chuckling response. “By tomorrow, I believe it should be fine to leave you alone.”

Again, he gently guides the spoon to your mouth. For as little as you want to do this, you’re sure he’s going to keep insisting. It’s embarrassing to be fed like this, but you try to get it over with while you can. Sheepishly, you part your lips and let the man feed you. Whatever slips off the spoon and onto your tongue is warm and has a tinge of saltiness to it. Almost savory, but certainly light. You taste what you think are vegetables chopped in small pieces, and glance down at the bowl in your doctor’s hand to find that you’re correct in this guess.

“Is it good, dear?” Yosuke questions casually. “It’s a fairly light vegetable soup. I figured I’d give you something that goes down easy.”

You don’t bother to answer him and merely let the man feed you further. Evidently, he finds this enticing as he watches you with a smile all the while he does it. You, however, do everything you can to avoid his gaze. A few times, broth dribbles down your chin, and Yosuke has to wipe it gently off with a napkin he’s brought with him. After a while of this uncomfortable feeding, you finally finish enough of the bowl and remain sitting there while Yosuke places the mostly empty thing on your desk.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile. “That should make you feel a little better.”

Hearing his praise only makes you queasy, but you don’t want to address it. Instead, you find something to talk about while you no doubt have to sit here with him.

“Yosuke, what is the shot for?” You question, still slightly mumbling. “Why does it make us feel like this?”

“I can’t say, my pet,” Your doctor gives a light, polite laugh. “You know that. But what you’re experiencing is normal. Mostly, anyway.”

“Mostly…?” You raise a brow, repeating the word as a question.

“The waking up you did is primarily what concerns me,” he answers you. “Even Nathaniel had said he was alarmed by it. For some reason, the other man with him didn’t at all think it an issue. I know we’ve had a few guests react strangely to our drugs, but it’s still supposed to be something we take note of.”

“I’ve reacted weirdly to drugs before,” you point out, though remain confused by Yosuke’s statement. Is something going on that you’re not aware of? Is your body just weird? “I’ve passed out late and woken up early, I mean.”

“I’m aware,” Yosuke folds his arms and leans back in his chair. “You really are special, aren’t you, dear?”

You scowl, but say nothing. Yosuke merely continues.

“In any case, Nathaniel was supposedly told to leave it in the other man’s hands, so I suppose I’ll do the same. I’m sure my superior will end up examining your file later. When he has the time, I mean.”

He almost smirks as he says this, much to your confusion.

“Why won’t you say his partner’s name?” You question.

“Do you remember it?”

You try to think on this as hard as you can, but come up blank other than a few letters.

“Ma…something” You guess, then shake your head in frustration. “Why am I forgetting all this stuff?”

“Short-term memory loss, most likely,” is Yosuke’s response. He glances at you observantly. “It happens often. Not always, but I expected it to hit you especially hard since it’s your first time getting the procedure. Though, short-term memory loss can be caused by many things. We account for various variables when we assess you. Physiological, environmental, chemical. The works.”

“I’ve never genuinely seen you do your job before,” you note, surprised by how much goes into this.

“We do work here,” your doctor laughs. “Like I said before. We don’t just toy with you. We take care of you too.”

“If you’re so adamant on taking care of me, why was Nathaniel the one in there with me earlier?” You question, hoping to put Yosuke off. Naturally, this does not at all upset him.

“He specializes in something I don’t,” Yosuke answers plainly. “If I could do his job, he might not even be here.”

The dark-haired doctor smiles at you again.

“He gave your reproductive organs a good assessment,” he says. “You’re perfectly healthy. I’m glad.”

You look away and blush hearing him speak of it so easily. However, you’re taken aback when the man gently puts his hand over where your abdomen is, able to slip past the comforter in your lap to touch it.

“You’re not carrying anything quite yet, I was told,” he murmurs, glancing down at your stomach lovingly. “But Nathaniel said we’ll have to wait and see whether you’re sill fertile. Even if it’s unlikely by this point, it’s still worth keeping an eye on.”

“S-stop,” you beggingly stammer, wrapping your hands around your doctor’s wrist. “I…”

You shut your eyes a moment as your head starts to hurt, and end up bringing one of your hands to your forehead. You remember this feeling, these words. Hearing him call you Rose, feeling his hand on your stomach, feeling weak and groggy…It finally occurs to you now what Yosuke did to you recently, that he drugged you and used you. Slowly, you remember everything from the day before your shot.

You remember waking up in the shower that day, your doctor acting strangely and hovering over you incessantly. You remember the unpleasant encounter with Lilah and Milos. You remember the interaction between Mom, Yosuke, and Cyrus. You remember Violet and everything you two talked about together. And, you remember what you wrote in your journal.

Everything finally starts to click for you, but this revelation hardly pleases you. Remembering Yosuke’s taking advantage of you, his disturbing actions and words, his willingness to throw himself in danger just to have you…It only makes you sick. You merely sit there, appalled, with a look of horror on your face as you relive everything clearly.

Yosuke smiles warmly as he watches your frozen expression.

“You remember our night together, don’t you Rose?”

Angrily, you rip the man’s hand away from your stomach.

“I told you not to call me that!” you shoot back at him. Despite the anger you feel at him now, you still feel too weary to really deal with more stress. You heave a sigh and try to calm yourself down, your frustrated voice now dulling to a tired mumble.

“Please, just call me Ten. You said you would if I wanted after that night.”

“I did,” your doctor chuckles as he acknowledges this, remaining undisturbed by your outburst. “I only wanted to help you remember. I’d be disappointed if you forgot that night entirely. I’d have set it up for nothing if you had.”

“There’s only one reason I don’t want to forget that day,” you say firmly. “And it’s not you. That was despicable.”

You then look up at the ceiling and exhale slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it now. Can we please stay on the other topic?”

“If you like, dear.” Your doctor remains ever cheeky about this, but still approves your tired request. Evidently he’s had his fun. Even if you stay mad at him, he still got to use and care for you all at once. He’s gotten his way, and will likely continue to, no matter what it is you do or say.

You try to think of anything else to talk about. Evidently Yosuke won’t just leave you right now, and you’d rather not sit in silence with him staring at you like a creep. You try to shuffle through your foggier memories and zero in on one thing.

“What about the workers?” You desperately ask in an attempt to change the subject. “I…I didn’t know there were more.”

“I’m not at liberty to say much of them,” your doctor answers honestly, siting back in his chair and again folding his arms. “I don’t much interact with them anyway. The nurses aren’t around as much because they don’t typically leave the places they’re assigned. In fact, you shouldn’t have even seen one at all. Being isolated to this part of the facility, you’d never have the chance. The cleaners are the only workers you’d be so familiar with since they’re more mobile. I’m sure you know why by now. I needn’t explain them to you.”

“Why do you need nurses anyway?” You ask in confusion. “You doctors do most everything already.”

“Again, I can’t say,” Yosuke shrugs. “And partially, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t much interact with them. The cleanup workers, occasionally. The nurses, hardly ever. But I’m not exactly about to go ask questions. In any case, the workers are highly insignificant.”

“They don’t seem that way,” you debate him. “They’re always there. You guys need them.”

“They merely make things more convenient for us,” Yosuke corrects you. “We’re very busy. All they do is pick up after us.”

“They don’t seem to like how they’re treated. At least, I don’t imagine they do.”

Yosuke raises a brow. “Oh? What makes you say that, pet?”

You curl your fingers into your palm as your hands rest in your lap.

“Because of Mom,” you answer, recalling the experience you had with her and Cyrus. “She assaulted a worker and…they looked pained but didn’t make any noise or react. But even then, I could tell they were struggling. There’s no way they don’t hate the way they’re treated. You lock them behind doors, you hit them, you order them around.”

Yosuke subtly and softly laughs as if amused by this sentiment. “We’re not the ones giving them orders.”

“That doesn’t matter!” You shoot back. “It’s awful! How don’t they just up and hurt you back if they’re able? They could easily poison your food or try to fight back somehow. There’s nothing stopping them when they’re allowed to walk around and have access to places we don’t.”

“They won’t,” is Yosuke’s vague and firm response. “That’s all that matters.”

You exhale frustratedly through your nose while staring at Yosuke. No question you have is being answered, and you’re sick of it. In the end, it’s just pointless to keep digging. Everything leads to an “I don’t know” or an “I can’t tell you”. Yosuke is one of the few doctors who can handle your prying, but he won’t humor you whatsoever. You can’t possibly get anything valuable from him at this rate. And anything you want to know, the Numbers wouldn’t really know much about. Even Cyrus doesn’t know everything.

Thinking of the others, you start to wish you were with them again. All you have to do is just make it through today. After this, you can see everyone again, right? It’s still going to be strange to return to the recreational areas after the night you had with your doctor. You’re not looking forward to the constant reminder of what he did to you. But you suppose, like most other things you’ve had to deal with, you’ll just have to learn to put up with it. There’s not exactly a way out of this. You can’t just will bad things away.

Telling yourself this causes you to slightly grimace, as you remember your doctor murmuring words like these before. Even if he was only talking about himself, you’re sure it applies in general. It’s not exactly easy to hide from the misery this place brings. In time, you’ll find a way to cope without a single problem. You sure hope so.

Your mind then wanders to earlier. In all honesty, your experience with recovering from your shot feels as though it’s just been one long day despite being told it’s been longer. Everything’s just left you foggy and confused, unable to process things coherently or make sense of what you’ve seen. Even with your memory mostly in sorts now, you still don’t feel like what’s happened recently was real.

You’re sick of the incessant exhaustion and just want to be fully mobile again without tumbling over or wobbling around like an idiot. You don’t want to give your doctor a reason to hover over you, and you certainly don’t want to forget things that might be important. Thinking back to when you woke up the first time after your procedure, you try to remember the name of the man who was with you. For some reason, you’re struggling to. But maybe having a name might assuage you somewhat. You do find it odd how he interacted with the nurse. You hardly remember what he’d said to her, but recall that she reacted fairly positively to him. Is that what Yosuke meant when he said they won’t hurt the doctors? What could possibly motivate a person to stay in a place like this, to endure mistreatment and slavery?

Suddenly, you jump at the sound of a light knock on your bedroom door. Even Yosuke, who had been silently watching you while you sat there, seems to be taken aback by this noise as he turns his head toward the door and raises a brow. He glances at you a moment before getting up and moving toward the door. When it opens, you’re surprised to see the same man you had before, only without his coat. Your eyes go wide as you gaze upon his pale, lightly scarred face again, but he doesn’t immediately look at you. Instead, he’s fixated on Yosuke with a polite smile.

Your doctor doesn’t appear to react to this man’s appearance, but you can’t much read him anyway with his back toward you.

“Chisaka,” the pistol-wielding doctor speaks Yosuke’s name before your doctor can so much as get a word out. He sounds polite, yet his uttering of your doctor’s name only sounds like an observation rather than a genuine greeting. The man promptly raises his hand and lightly waves around two measly pages. “These are for you.”

Yosuke takes the pages in one hand and looks down at them.

“And these are?”

“A few analytics,” Is the dark-eyed man’s answer. His gaze remains coyly fixated on Yosuke, even as your doctor continues to scan the pages in his hands. “Things we had to hold for a little while to thoroughly review and sort.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t just file this with Doctor Weiss?” Yosuke asks curiously. “Surely you didn’t want to waste your time on a small foot errand like this.”

The man standing before your doctor does not at all bat an eye to this question, remaining with his polite smile.

“The girl is your responsibility, isn’t she?” He questions casually. “I figured you ought to see the data first. I took the liberty of delivering it personally. Had I known you weren’t upstairs to begin with as I had expected, I might not have shown. But it was my decision and I made it. He was fine with it too. Do file this yourself once you’ve reviewed it.”

The pistol-wielding’s man’s dark eyes flicker toward you, his smile unwavering. Having his gaze fixated on you sends a shiver down your spine. But, it’s also enough to jog your memory. You remember his hands upon you, his hovering over you, his haunting words. Most of all, you finally remember the name you heard him called by.

“You should get to it, Chisaka,” he advises Yosuke firmly, shifting his gaze back to your doctor. “You’ve always been good at your busywork. Even he’s said so himself. But remember that you still have plenty of it to do. We all have to do our part, right? I’d hate to upset him right now.”

Without so much as a goodbye, your cold visitor turns and walks away, leaving Yosuke to stand by your door and watch it shut. He doesn’t immediately react to the interaction, but does give a light, airy sigh, as if he finds this encounter inconvenient and not as utterly disturbing as you do. He doesn’t at all sound concerned, unless he’s merely hiding that he is.

Finally, your doctor turns to you and smiles gently. Still with his papers in hand, he moves toward your bed and sweetly curls his fingers under your chin.

“Dear, I think I should follow his advice and get back to work,” he tells you softly. “I’d like to stay longer, but he isn’t wrong that I’ve been lagging a little behind.”

“His last name is Marcellus,” you say somewhat shakily, not really responding to your doctor’s statement. “…Right?”

Yosuke merely smiles and leans forward to give you a quick, sweet kiss.

“You should be well enough to go back tomorrow,” he tells you, ignoring your question. “Get some rest, my pet. You still need it.”

“Was he supposed to come here?”

Again, Yosuke ignores your question. He drops his hand from you and collects the empty water bottle and the bowl from your desk, then proceeds to walk toward your bedroom door. Before he can leave, you call his name and stop him. He doesn’t bother to turn again, but awaits your word.

You suddenly blank on what it is you want to ask him, merely looking on at the man with slightly parted lips. Why did you stop him anyway? You do want to ask about Marcellus. You even want to ask whether he’s aware of what your doctor did with you. Moreover, you want to ask what might happen to Yosuke if he does get in trouble.

No, not if. When.

However, you know that these questions are all pointless. You won’t get any clear answers from him. In fact, you’re not even sure Yosuke knows himself. Besides, you’d rather not let the man think you care about his well-being. He’d never let you live that down.

Sighing, you look away and mumble a quick “Nevermind.”

Yosuke merely gives a light, throated chuckle at your hesitancy and walks out of your room, finally leaving you alone. Now that you’re again in silence, you end up leaning back against the wall, on your pillow, and try to put everything out of your mind. Even a little bit of quiet, even a brief respite from everything you’ve dealt with recently helps.

You’re not sure for just how long you sit there, but it’s so relaxing to do so that you almost don’t care. After a long, long while, you eventually succumb again to your bodily exhaustion and finally lay back down on your bed. You’re becoming too tired to think. It’s strange to you that your body is still so worn out even after a few days have passed, but perhaps it’s because you’re new to this procedure that you’re taking forever to recover fully. Sighing, you pull your comforter up over yourself and let your body slip slowly away into another slumber.

Chapter 51: Closer

Something scratches slightly at your cheeks, though it takes a moment for you to really notice it with your limp state. You try to move your head slightly, but the scratchy sensation only persists and trails along your skin. Confused, you finally open your eyes and notice that you’re lying on your side in a bed of cut grass. The blades of green are fairly thick and healthy, so they feel slightly rough against your skin. They even leave a light indentation in your flesh after you’ve slowly risen. To your confusion, you’re in a garden that looks familiar. You’re sure you’ve seen it before, but you can’t really remember why right now.

The sky is at sunset as you can recall it being once before, and there are bushes rising above you, trimmed and square. You’re in a maze, and it takes you ample time to recognize this. The orange hues, the deep green plants, the gentle wind—all of it is recognizable for reasons you can’t recall. But, for as beautiful as the scenery is, you don’t feel particularly happy to be here. The only thing you cling to now is knowing that this is only a dream. You’re certain of that fact because you can remember where you were just before this. Though, maybe the brief respite from your doctor and the business of being repeatedly drowsy is a nice change of pace. Better a garden than a cold white room.

Looking down at yourself does not reveal any difference in appearance than what you’re used to seeing. You’re still in your rose gown, and barefoot. As you sit up, the thick grass lightly scratches at your thighs and calves until you’re able to push yourself off the ground. Nobody seems to be around you now, but you’re honestly okay with being alone for the moment.

There’s only one way to go from where you are since there’s an enclosing of bushes behind and to the sides of you. Quietly, you follow a long trail of bushes until you’re forced to turn left. Lightly running your hand along the bushy wall and following it closely, you make a few more turns until you eventually come to a house. Not the front of one, you don’t think. You’re not even sure you know what a house is supposed to look like. Did you see one in a movie? Do you remember what houses look like without realizing that you did?

In fact, this doesn’t even seem like a regular house. This is…grander? It might even be some kind of a mansion, or at least some nice estate. Whatever it is, it’s large, built with red brick and topped with pointed, brown rooftops. There’s ivy or some sort of viny plant clinging to a few parts of the house’s exterior, and a few, far shorter bushes with flowers are dotted near some of the edges. However, what’s before you now resembles a stepping-stone pathway that leads to what appears to be a ballroom.

You creep a bit closer to examine the indoor area more properly, but stop when you see a glimpse of red in your vision. You’re not sure where it came from, but end up turning to look around for a possible source. All you see is the same glimpse of red in the sky when you look up, but it disappears just as quickly as it comes. Considering that you’re dreaming, you try to brush this off and focus again on the house, turning yourself back to it.

There’s large windows along the exterior that allow you to peek into this strange ballroom, which looks as though it’s covered from top to bottom in white and gold. But, with the warm hues of the sunset from outdoors, the interior is lightly tinted orange. It looks strangely inviting. The floors are a solid maroon color, likely made of carpet. Either way, it certainly sticks out from the white and gold colors on the walls and ceiling.

Dotted along the room are a few rounded tables with white tablecloth upon them, but they seem sanctioned off more to the side. There’s a huge space in the middle, a center square floored with glossy, brightly colored wood. For entertaining, perhaps? Either way, you don’t really see anyone inside from where you are.

This place is magnificent, you admit. You’re shocked you could vividly imagine something like this in a dream. Maybe you’ve seen a few nice ballrooms in media before. You doubt you’d ever seen something this nice in person, but you don’t feel like trying to remember something that’s going to inevitably hurt your head and bring back the static feeling you dislike.

The path you’re on leads to two grand, glassy doors, and out of instinct, you pull the long, golden handle of one. Surprisingly, the door opens. Curious to know more about this place, you enter. Only, when you do, you suddenly hear piano music floating into your ears. It’s something you’re sure you heard recently. Moreover, the room is suddenly just slightly populated where it hadn’t been at all. You’re not exactly pleased to see by who.

To your left, you can see both the doctors’ boss and his partner sitting together and across from one another at one particular table. They’re saying nothing, nor are they really acknowledging you. They’re merely fixated on the table before them, where there are drinks of some kind. The boss seems to be sitting casually in his chair, which is slightly angled toward the center floor so that he can fold his leg and rest his booted foot casually on his lap. One arm is loosely positioned by its elbow on the top of his chair, while the hand of the other is holding a square glass on the table. Marcellus across from him is leaning on the table with his elbows, though he holds a wine glass in one hand. In fact, It’s very much like the one you drank from once. Even the wine is the same.

You’re not at all happy to see them, but are grateful that your subconscious has allowed them to sit still where they are. You’d not be willing to interact with the duo even in a dream.

In the center of the ballroom where there are no tables, you suddenly see Mom and Yosuke together, locked in some kind of a slow dance. Not one you’re familiar with, really, but it’s oddly intimate and steady. Mom’s hands, which look clear of the stitches you remember her having, are held gently in Yosuke’s. The green-eyed woman is laughing at something, but you’re not sure what. You step a little closer out of curiosity, but neither of the two doctors appear to notice you either. It strikes you as strange and is simultaneously relieving. Dealing with either doctor is always a difficulty for you. Still, you’re a little weirded out to see them together now. Surely it shouldn’t matter. Any time Yosuke spends dealing with Mom means less time for him to deal with you. But for some reason, it doesn’t sit well with you.

As you approach both doctors, you can more clearly hear their voices. Even with you getting quite close to them, and even when they pass you by during their dance, neither doctor really notices nor acknowledges you.

“It’s good to see you back again,” Mom comments. For a moment, you assume she’s finally talking to you, but she doesn’t at all appear to look your way and instead stares intently at Yosuke with a sweet smile upon her pink lips. “You’ve been avoiding me. But I’m here now. Not her. You’re not getting away from me this time.”

Her?

“You know I’m busy,” Yosuke answers, his eyes locked onto Mom’s. His expression is neutral, neither disturbed nor cheeky as you usually see him. “We shouldn’t be in here.”

“You mean she shouldn’t. You can come and go as you like without consequence. You’ve always known that and never bothered to visit. I’m so crushed!”

Is she talking about you? Even so, the woman hardly bothers to acknowledge you. For some reason, this makes you mad. If she is able to acknowledge you, then she’s just ignoring you on purpose and treating you like nothing.

“I’m right here!” You tell her firmly as she passes by with Yosuke. As you figure, neither he nor Mom notice you. This is starting to get frustrating.

“I suppose it hardly matters” Yosuke ponders this. “I’ve already broken a few rules. Anyway, you could have easily just let me in first. I don’t like being in here with her. It’s risky.”

“You wanted me to let you in so you could evade me again?” Mom cheekily responds, moving easily along the floor with her partner. “You would have run off after leaving her, I’m sure. Really, I’ve never known you to be so hesitant. Waiting until I’m not around to drop your things off, being quiet about your errands when I am. Do you feel guilty, Yosuke? You ought to.”

“I don’t want to deal with it, that’s all,” Is your doctor’s straightforward response. “After what I did, I figured you’d be extremely upset.”

“Didn’t want to deal with it? How cruel!” Mom dramatically breathes. “And admitting it openly too? Really, you ought to be more careful with what you say. You know better.”

“Hardly,” Yosuke laughs lightly. “I’m under the impression Marcellus already knows. It’s pointless to be quiet now.”

Hearing the man’s name, your eyes slightly widen, and you flicker them toward the tables to your left where both Marcellus and his boss are. Neither man appears to notice what’s happening, still focused on their drinks.

“Oh?” Mom’s attention is piqued, and she tilts her head slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“He paid me a visit,” is Yosuke’s response as he continues along the floor with Mom. “In her room. He never does that. I assume he had reason. A motive. So if he knows, then it won’t be long before the boss does.”

“Our little overseer?” Mom laughs. “Well, I suppose it’s time you earned your stripes, Yosuke. We’ve all gotten a little slap on the wrist before. You’ll finally get to join the club. I’m honestly surprised it took you this long.”

She giggles a bit.

“I think you’d look darling with a bit of damage. We’d match.”

“An initiation? How old-school.” Yosuke chortles, overlooking her previous statement.

“Don’t you remember being in school? Don’t tell me you never joined a community or club where you went. Networking was the only way I got my research off the ground. Even if it didn’t really go anywhere, it was still a pivotal moment for me to get the approval I needed.”

Yosuke slowly spins Mom around, holding onto one of her arms to help steady her as she moves.

“I’m sure messing around a little helped too, right?” He teases, puling Mom back to him. “I was never much for socializing at that point. I’ve no idea how you managed so easily.”

“Oh, who knows anymore?” Mom livelily sighs, moving her body even closer to Yosuke’s. “Everything from that time has become so fuzzy. But it’s all in the past, isn’t it? We’re too occupied these days to bother reminiscing. Why bother looking behind us?”

Yosuke smiles to himself. “I don’t know. I sometimes miss when I was more naïve. Don’t you?”

The strange piano song finally ends, though you’re left wondering where it even came from with no other bodies around to have played it. Since this is a dream, perhaps you merely conjured it yourself. Still, you continue to watch the two doctors in arms as they stand still, holding one another and watching each other’s faces intently. When they’ve finally stopped their dance, you find that they’re practically right next to you. Still, they don’t seem to notice you’re there.

Mom finally frowns at her partner’s last question.

“Now Yosuke,” she warns. “Don’t try to change the subject. You obviously seem to want a little more time with her before you get your scars. I don’t personally think you know what you’re doing. But believe me when I say it’s not going to be fun.”

She then smiles again and creeps a hand playfully on Yosuke’s chest. Her tone becomes cheeky, much in the way you’ve known it to be.

“By the by, what’s to stop me from going to the boss directly with the information I have now? I could very easily do so. I should, in fact. You were quick to call me out for being naughty. What’s keeping me from doing the same to you?”

“Practically nothing,” your doctor answers the woman plainly. He then smirks knowingly. “But you won’t.”

“And why’s that, cutie doctor?”

“I know you. You’re still obsessed with me.”

Mom frowns again. “But I’m also mad at you. Running off in the middle of our first get-together in a long time just to fool around with a younger girl? Very selfish. You realize you hurt me, right?”

Yosuke gazes at the woman a moment, eyeing her before answering her question.

“Of course I do. But you realize we’re not involved anymore, right? And never really were to begin with?”

Mom’s eyes subtly drop to the side.

“I sometimes wish I didn’t.”

You hear creaking of some sort, but are unable to discern from where. For a moment, you look back at the men to your left, then turn to look outside. Whatever the noise was, it’s gone in an instant, and there’s no indication it came from anywhere at all. Again, you turn back to the two doctors in arms and watch intently as they remain in silence for a moment. Eventually, Mom pulls her torso slightly away from Yosuke and looks up at him with focus. Again, she speaks up.

“Yosuke. I want a kiss. Just one.”

Your doctor merely frowns at the woman, raising a brow. “Won’t that only set you off? You were starting to calm down just a little after your last episode.”

“I don’t know. Possibly. You know how I get,” Mom almost laughs. She then moves her other hand onto Yosuke’s chest as well and stares down upon it while speaking. “I can be unpredictable. I don’t dislike being that way. In fact, I’ve come to love it. Though, evidently you dislike seeing me that way. But I want you to make it up to me. I want compensation for what you did.”

“With a kiss?”

Mom smiles gleefully to herself. “You know how fun it was for me to play with you. I just want to relive it a little. I want to feel good again.”

Yosuke smirks. “Didn't you just say it's pointless to look back?”

Mom scowls lightly at this reminder and huffs. “Don't do that to me, Yosuke. I know what I said. Now look, all I want is one kiss. We’ll be even then. You can postpone your little beating that way. And have more time with her. Unless you-know-who decides to tattle on you sooner.”

“As long as I do my job, he won’t,” Yosuke answers her firmly. “Not right away, at least. You know how he is. Thinks he has to help the boss establish order in a place like this.”

He lightly scoffs.

“What’s the point in It anyway?”

“Yosuke.”

Your doctor stops a moment before giving a light chuckle at Mom’s murmuring of his name. “You’re so eager to pull my reigns, Mother. As I said, I shouldn’t even be in here. Neither should she. We need to go in.”

Mom looks up at the man with lowered brows.

“Yosuke…” Her voice sounds more warning in tone this time as she calls Yosuke’s name. This makes your doctor stop and sigh. He looks at Mom briefly and sighs.

“…Right. Just one.”

Mom smiles and leans her head forward, tilting it up to reach Yosuke’s lips.

“Yes…” She breathes, beginning to close her eyes. However, Yosuke raises a hand to her lips and stops her, causing the woman to open her eyes again and blink in light surprise.

“And you won’t make it a big deal?” He bids her to affirm it. “I’m not doing this because I care about you. Don’t let this get to your head. I said I owe you.”

Mom smiles slyly and chuckles.

“Yes, you do,” she tells him straightforwardly. “Now do it like you used to.”

Lowering his hand, Yosuke stares at the woman with a displeased face and exhales heavily through his nose. However, he moves in to kiss the eager woman. With both hands, he holds her head and tilts his own to press his lips against hers.

The force of his kiss causes Mom to step back a bit, and she finally bumps into you. For a moment, she pulls away and turns her head, looking behind her and finally opting to acknowledge you. She smiles when her green eyes settle upon your confused and concerned expression.

“Oh, pardon me!” She giggles playfully before moving back to her kiss. You’re not exactly sure if the pair had never noticed you, or had chosen not to. Being seen now does little to assuage your confusion and unease. Even worse, when you step back and move your head to the left, you notice that the men at the table have finally noticed what’s going on.

In the midst of sipping his wine, Marcellus glances over with a light smirk upon his lips. His boss doesn’t bother to look up at you, Mom, or Yosuke, but does glance up at his partner. Without a word, he merely gives a light nod, a light gesture of his head. It’s this that Marcellus responds to. Calmly, he places his glass on the table and rises from his chair.

You watch, stunned, as the man unholsters one of his pistols and cocks it while stepping slowly toward the kissing doctors. For a moment, you think he’s going after you, but he instead stands a few feet away and aims his weapon, assuming the stance you’ve seen once before and eyeing Yosuke from behind with a sharp eye.

You glance over at your doctor with wide eyes, but he seems not to notice at all what’s happening. Despite knowing this is a dream, you don’t want to have to see someone be shot again. Quickly, you run to Marcellus and grab the end of his pistol, swatting it down.

“Don’t!” You cry out. Marcellus merely glances at you with his dark eyes and gives a light smile. Without being able to react to it, you suddenly find yourself pushed to the ground. Your palms press against the carpet as you lay there. Quickly, you try to sit yourself up, but when you rise, you’re met with the end of Marcellus’ pistol. Gasping, you peel away and raise your arm instinctively before you as if to shield yourself, despite knowing that you couldn’t stop a bullet this close with hardly anything, much less your bare arm.

“P-please!” you cry, beginning to tear up, your eyes wide and your lower lip trembling. “I don’t know what you want from me! I-I don’t have anything! I didn’t do anything!”

Marcellus says nothing, continuing to smile at you while his gun is cocked before your face. He merely tilts his head and watches as you continue to beg.

“Please, I don’t want to die!”

Marcellus then moves his gun even closer to your face, pressing the cold metal barrel against your forehead. Your cries become even louder now, your heart pounding so hard that you feel it’s ready to burst out of your chest.

“N-no…!” you gasp. “Please, stop!”

In your panic, you shut your eyes and continue to tremble incessantly. All you really hear is a loud thud, but in your state, it’s enough to scare you. Immediately, your wet eyes open wide, but everything in your dream is now gone. Instead, you’re met with a white ceiling and white walls. Your chest begins to heave as you suck air in heavily, still lightly panicked.

“Ow!” You hear a groaning voice call out. “I think I botched that one.”

“You okay?” Another voice lightly laughs. Shifting your widened eyes to the right, you see Cyrus helping Lav up off the floor. Catching sight of them now should assuage you, but your heart continues to pound incessantly as you try to come down from your nightmare.

Assessing yourself further, you realize you’re laying down on the rightmost rec room couch, with one arm at your side and the other resting on your forehead. Hesitantly, you sit yourself up and press the fingers of both hands against both your temples. Other than the lingering fear and panic, your body feels weary and groggy. You’re not sure why you still feel this way after you’ve mostly recovered from your procedure. It’s been more than enough days. However, you’re so focused on your dream that you can’t be bothered to think about your exhaustion right now.

“Oh, she’s awake!” You hear Lav chime in with happiness in her voice. Both she and Cyrus step toward you, near your legs, but they stop once they see your tears and the position you’re in.

“Woah…Ten, are you okay?” Lav asks. You drop your hands and continue to breathe, trying to calm yourself down. The young woman puts a hand on your shoulder and looks at you with her amber eyes, concerned. Wearily, you turn your body over and swing your legs over the couch cushion, facing both Numbers as you sit there and try recovering.

“What’s wrong?” Lav continues to hover over you. She stands to your right, while Cyrus looks on at you with concern from your left.

“I…” you mutter, trying to recollect yourself. “…I had a nightmare.”

“Just keep breathing, alright?” Cyrus advises you in a gentle voice while warmly taking your hand. “It’s alright. You’re safe. It’s just us.”

You look up at him, still with your cheeks wet. Your tears have subsided by now, but your face is still flushed and stuffy.

“I-is this real?” You question him hesitantly. “I’m not dreaming?”

“It’s real,” Cyrus promises you, squeezing your hand. “You’re okay.”

“Here,” Lav murmurs as she leans in to hug you. Eager to come down from your panic, you reciprocate her embrace and lean against her, placing your head on her shoulder and wrapping your free arm around her. Both of you stay silent, but she eventually pulls away and picks up something by your feet. When she brings it up to hand it to you, it’s revealed to be a bottle of water.

“Maybe you oughtta drink some,” she suggests lightly.

“We brought you a little food, too,” Cyrus adds with a smile. “Just in case you woke up and were hungry.”

“Thanks,” you mumble tiredly, finally dropping Cyrus’ hand and taking the bottle. You twist the cap open and promptly begin gulping down the its contents. Upon finishing the thing, you give a heavy exhale through your mouth.

“What did you dream about that was so horrible?” Lav questions, sitting before you on the floor. Cyrus follows her lead, letting you have your space on the couch and instead sitting beside Lav with his legs crossed over one another.

You finally notice that Lav’s hair has been put up in a low ponytail, like it had when she played basketball with you. And, to your surprise, she’s wearing pants under her gown. Even more strangely is that they’re the same color as Two’s. You’re not sure why this is, but aren’t about to ask right now with her and Cyrus awaiting an answer.

“I-I was in some garden maze,” you try to explain. “I’ve been there before in another dream, but...that was a long time ago.”

By now you remember why you recognized the maze to begin with when you’d struggled to during the dream. You’d rather not have to explain your dream of marrying Yosuke, so you decide to keep this vague.

“This time around, I followed the maze to some weird mansion or something, to a ballroom inside it. Mom and Yosuke were there dancing, and-“

You stop yourself. Cyrus and Lav both now you met the boss and his lackey, but aren’t “supposed” to. However, you’d woken up to Marcellus after your procedure, so it wouldn’t be bad to talk about him in that context, would it?

Glancing at both Numbers before you only makes you feel compelled to say so. They’re listening intently. Though your explanation is merely courteous, you still feel like you have to oblige them.

“I saw a man there,” you go on, but leave out any mention of the doctors’ boss. “A man who I saw after my shot. He had a gun. Mom and Yosuke were talking about some weird stuff, and the man didn’t notice them at first. They never really acknowledged me, but the man eventually noticed them and tried to shoot Yosuke. I-I tried to stop him, but he threatened me.”

You close your eyes.

“I don’t know why I panicked. I knew it was a dream. I just…I got really freaked out. I could feel that gun on my forehead so vividly. Maybe a few wires of mine got crossed and I just stopped being able to distinguish my dream from reality at the end. I really have no clue.”

“Sounds awful,” Lav sympathizes with you. “But look, you’re alright now. Not in any danger, okay? We’re just hanging out now.”

“Yeah…” you mumble in response, finally starting to settle down. Paying attention to yourself now, you still feel fairly tired and woozy even after fully waking up, but not at all as bad as you had during your recovery. It still strikes you as strange that you’re feeling this way at all when you had a good number of days to rest, but you’re not really in the mood to question it. It’s just going away fairly slowly, you figure.

You again open your eyes, and to your light surprise, Cyrus is handing you a small white mug of some kind of creamy soup. It smells rich, yet fairly light all things considered. You take the warm thing, giving a mumbling “thanks” and starting to tiredly eat. Your hands still tremble slightly with the weight of the spoon and mug in them as you gradually settle your panicked state back to a neutral one, but you’re luckily able to feed yourself where you struggled to before when in bed. The soup is definitely rich with a creamy and buttery flavor. It’s what you suppose to be some kind of potato-based concoction, one overall robust and fairly welcome against your tongue.

“We were going to start worrying again when you didn’t show up a few days ago,” Cyrus tells you. “But Nine said she’d overheard her doctor and mine talking. Mom mentioned you were going to be out of commission for a while.”

“I’d ask how you felt, but I’m sure you were asleep that whole time,” Lav chuckles. However, you shake your head and look her directly in the eyes.

“No…I wasn’t,’ you tell her, much to both Numbers’ surprise. “For some reason, I kept waking up. Yosuke said it was weird that I did, and that I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You didn’t wake up during the procedure, I hope,” Cyrus looks at you with concern in his aqua eyes. Again, you lightly shake your head.

“No, thankfully. I woke up a few times in the days I was monitored. The first time it was just after my shot.”

You look down and furrow your brows as you try to recall what you experienced clearly.

“I…saw Nathaniel and the man from my dream there,” you explain. “Nathaniel was doing something to me. A checkup, I think. He did tell me I wasn’t pregnant at least. But the other man…I don’t know why he was there other than to monitor me. He seemed like someone with a position of power the way he spoke to Nathaniel.”

“But it wasn’t the boss, was it?” Cyrus asks.

“No.”

Both Lav and Cyrus likely know who you’re talking about, but you’re certain it’s best not to be too open about the fact that they know. As far as you’re concerned, this is the first time you ever met him.

“I think his last name was Marcellus,” you say. “He was writing something, and I was being monitored by some machine. And then…there was this worker that he called over. A different one than the cleanup workers.”

“There are more?” Lav widens her eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but…I had no idea.”

“It was a nurse,” you explain. “A woman, I think. She was still covered in a uniform with a hood and a mask. Her legs and arms were more open, but covered in cloth. It was really weird. She didn’t do much other than fetch stuff for Marcellus. But I didn’t really get to process much about anything when I woke up the first time before I was put out. I do remember being given a lot of the anesthetic they usually give us. Nathaniel even seemed to think it was too much. Evidently it’s fine since I’m not dead, I guess.

“But, after all that, I remember waking up a few times to Yosuke taking care of me. I was super weak and confused. A lot of it didn’t even feel real. But I’m sure it was. I woke up in my room a few days later with Yosuke, but…Marcellus showed up and told him to get back to work. Maybe he thought Yosuke was just taking too long with me. But I’m here now. I think I’m okay.”

Cyrus looks down.

“I’m glad you are, but…” he mutters. “…you should be careful. You’re starting to learn things even I don’t know. Unintentionally, sure. None of this is your fault. But I can’t predict what might happen to you. If you end up being too much trouble for them, then…”

He lightly sighs.

“…I don’t wanna lose you. None of us do. So many people have already been lost. I don’t want to lose more.”

Both you and Lav look on at him with worry. However, you try to assure him,

“I’ll be alright. I don’t want to leave either. I’ll do what I can, I promise.”

Silence befalls the room for a while. Cyrus doesn’t appear to know what else to say, but you’re sure he trusts you on your word. You don’t want him to worry so much, nor Lav, nor anyone else. You don’t want to be alone, and you don’t want to leave them alone. They mean too much to you.

“Well…we’re honestly a little surprised you woke up here now,” Lav finally speaks up, trying to change the subject to keep the mood from souring too much. “We were expecting you to be asleep for at least a day.”

“Yosuke kept me the whole time,” you respond between spoonfuls of your dish. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s been making a big deal about taking care of me. It’s like his fetish or something.”

“Is it better or worse than being treated like a piece of meat?” Lav questions with a light pout. “Sven hardly treats me with kindness. He’s sleazy. Yosuke on the other hand seems to be the kind of guy to hover way too much and obsess over you. Cyrus mentioned seeing him with you the other day. I wasn’t exactly happy to hear about it.”

“It’s not like my doctor doesn’t treat me like an object too,” you mutter bitterly, recounting everything that’s happened here recently. Is it worth it to explain what he did if there are potential cameras around? Then again, that hardly affects you. He’d be the one hurt. Even so, with your willingness to protect him in your dream, you wonder if you pathetically would want to protect your doctor from horrible things despite thinking he deserves them because of your negative experiences with him. You hope not.

Holding the spoon over the mug a moment and looking at the floor, you think on whether it’s worth explaining what happened. Yosuke’s going to be caught no matter what. Even if Mom’s silence and Yosuke’s getting back to his work prolongs the inevitable, the fact of the matter is that it can’t be prevented. Does Marcellus really know what happened like Yosuke suggested in your dream? Why did you dream up such a specific conversation like that? That couldn’t have come from you. Mom and Yosuke had to have been talking around you.

What about the red flashes? And Marcellus? And the boss?

“Ten?” Cyrus’ voice snaps you back to the conversation, and you blink a few times in response. “Is everything alright?”

“I…” you bite your lip. “I don’t really know. I’m just tired.”

Hearing this statement makes Cyrus look on at you worriedly, but you try to reassure him

“It’s just, a lot’s happened to me. Again,” you explain. “But nothing super bad compared to last time. I still can’t really talk about that openly though.”

This is, of course, a weak attempt to cover your tracks and appear innocent in your blabbing for any potential cameras present. Even now, you still feel like they’re there. Even if you might be overthinking it, you again think that it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Lav raises a brow. “And what about this? Can you talk openly about what happened recently?”

You ponder this question a moment, curling your hand around the mug as it sits in your lap now.

“I guess I should,” you suppose. “I don’t think it’d hurt. I wasn’t told not to, and even if nobody knows right now, they’re going to.”

You heave a light sigh and try explaining what happened.

“Yosuke locked me in here. That’s really the short of it. He tried to set it up as some kind of ‘date’, but all it ended up being was just him drugging and using me. But…it was a little different this time. He was really adamant about getting me pregnant and making me his. He was more clingy. I told him he was acting like Mom by doing this outlandish thing, but he didn’t seem to think so. I don’t know what to make of it anymore. But it wasn’t exactly a good time for me.”

Cyrus looks away as you explain this, as if pondering something. Lav, however, scowls.

“God, I hate these doctors,” she growls. “All they do is take what they think is theirs. I can’t stand hearing shit like this. I wish I could do something to help.”

“I’m just happy to have you supporting me,” you admit with a weak attempt at a smile. “Really, just seeing a few friendly faces is enough to make me feel less shitty. But it is kind of weird to be here again after what happened.”

“Where…exactly did it happen?” Lav almost hesitates to ask, but she seems genuinely curious at the same time.

“He took me around a few areas,” you tell her openly, though feel queasy thinking about it again. You don’t want to leave your friend hanging either. Plus, you figure it’s better to talk about it anyway, even if your explanation is vague. “The theater, the cafeteria, the hall, the rec room, even the music room. The garden was…the last stop.”

Cyrus leans on his knees with his arms, hunching over and staring at the floor.

“I guess that’s why Eight said to be careful,” he muses. “I didn’t think Yosuke would act like that. From what I knew of him, he was pretty reserved and minded his own business. You really set him off. Not like it’s your fault. He just found someone who really struck a chord with him.”

He sighs.

“It’s not too far off from Mom’s obsessive tendencies. Don’t get me wrong, she’s always been strange and obsessive, but I remember her being less outlandish about what she did with me or other people. Now she seems to be fine with getting in trouble if it means having her fun. Even when she tries to hide it long enough to enjoy herself, she knows she’s going to get caught. Her boss keeps hurting her where she can be hurt the most. Bruising her face which she tries to keep made-up and fresh, cutting her hands which she uses to pleasure herself or others. Nothing seems to phase her. Or If it does, she doesn’t make it apparent until you really piss her off. I’ve made the mistake of doing it a few times before, but I’ve since learned how to handle her.”

You look at Cyrus a moment with worry in your eyes.

“Could he go the same way?” You ask him. “Yosuke’s obsession with me has gotten more severe. He hovers so much, is protective of me in a sick way. I…I don’t want him to be like her. But nothing I can do will stop him. I constantly talk back to him, I tell him I hate what he does, and I try to insult him. He still wants me.”

“I don’t really know what to tell you in that case,” Cyrus admits with a frown. “I’m sure even Eight wouldn’t, for as much about Yosuke as he knows from experience. I can only say that Mom and Yosuke are just difficult to shake, whereas some of the others don’t even act like they want anything to do with us sometimes. Lilah and Micah, for instance. They still use us. They just act like it’s a chore.”

“God, don’t remind me of Micah,” you groan, rubbing your temple. “I had a nasty visit with him the day everything with Yosuke happened.”

You gasp a moment as you remember his Number as well.

“Wait, where’s Violet at?” You suddenly ask aloud, confusing both Numbers before you. In part, you wonder this because of your worry about her doing something drastic in her frustrations, but it’s also because you want to make sure she and Cyrus actually talk.

“She’s around,” Lav explains. “But still isolating herself mostly. Or at least I think. We haven’t really been talking to her, mostly because we still wanted to give her space. I did have to go to the pool to get a pair of pants from the showers, and she was just in a corner by herself. Not even swimming. But she didn’t seem unhappy to have me around. She just didn’t really talk to me.”

You glance down at Lav’s clothed legs and raise a brow.

“Yeah…what’s up with that?” You question her curiously. Lav merely laughs.

“Cyrus wanted to teach me a few yoga poses he learned in a book,” she tells you openly. “But I wanted to be polite and not flash him with this stupid gown, so he said I could wear one of his spare pairs of pants that they have in the showers since he’s likely not going to use it for a while. Since Violet was there, I didn’t want to grab his color and make her freak out or start assuming things, so I just grabbed Two’s. He’s not around anyway. Neither’s Three.”

“She’s really got a long way to go with these,” Cyrus comments lightly. “We’ve been practicing a few days, but for as athletic as Nine is, she’s still not in tune with the tranquil stuff.”

“Not really,” Lav admits with a laugh. “Like I said, I can’t always be sitting still. Even though this stuff’s more physical than meditation, it’s still a lot of slow movements and stillness.”

You smile lightly.

“I’m glad you guys are having fun, at least,” you say before taking another spoonful of your soup.

“Sorry if you think we’re being too chipper when you’re here suffering,” Lav sheepishly looks away and rubs the back of her neck. You hadn’t meant to sound like you were upset by her happiness, but maybe you accidentally came across that way. You meant what you said. “But…yeah, Violet’s just been around. She at least seemed less bad than she had when you-know-what happened. Maybe that’s progress.”

“I’d like to think so,” you respond, glancing at Cyrus. He appears to be focused on the floor again, but listening. “I spoke with her the day before my shot. She was pretty torn up about what happened, but she isn’t really mad at Cyrus for it.”

This statement causes the young man sitting before you to look up finally, his expression slightly hopeful now. Lav notices this, but says nothing of it and lets you continue.

“She’s more torn up about her own feelings, really,” you say openly, mostly addressing Cyrus. “She does want to talk to you again. And she said she’s still mad at me, but…we did at least have a small heart to heart. I’m hoping it’ll help her relationship with me a little, even if it might take time for her to fully come around with me. In any case, I’m sure she’ll be alright.”

“I hope so,” Lav adds. “Blue and I had talked a little about her recently. She told me Violet and her finally called each other by their colors. I guess they’re sort of trying to respect each other now? Or at least Blue says she’ll try to not be, in her words, ‘a total bitch’ to Violet.”

You shrug lightly. “I guess that’s something. Both Blue and Violet have tended to be straightforward about how they feel without paying attention to how what they say might be affecting others.”

Cyrus looks as though he wants to say something in addition to this, with his lips lightly parted. However, before he can really get anything out the rec room doors open to reveal a yawning Six. Despite her apparent sleepiness, she immediately locks her dark brown eyes on you and widens them slightly in surprise once she registers you’re here.

“Woah!” She exclaims. “You’re awake!”

Promptly, the peachy girl walks over and stands behind Lav. She folds her arms and smiles at you. Seeing her now only surprises you and reminds you of your debacle with Gale. She has no idea that you know what you do now about her and Five. For some reason, even knowing you have to keep it that way, you still feel strange being in front of her again the same way you had with Five the first time you saw her after everything that happened and everything you learned.

Although Six remained affixed to you, she catches sight of Lav wearing pants and asks casually,

“Uh, yo, what’s with Two’s pants?”

Lav lightly waves a hand around. “Oh, y’know. Yoga.”

Six pauses a moment with a deadpan look on her face, but eventually shrugs and goes, “Alright,” not bothering to question it further despite not entirely understanding the context of all this, judging by the look on her face. This causes Lav and Cyrus to lightly laugh, but Six doesn’t much appear bothered by the exchange. She merely turns her attention back to you.

“Anyway, how are you feeling Ten?” Six finally asks with a light tilt of her head. “It’s been a while. Five filled me in on a few things. I heard you disappeared for a good few days. And then I was told you were having your shot recently too.”

“Yeah, I did,” you answer her. “I’m…alright. I feel tired but I’m at least able to take care of myself now. What’s been up with you?”

“Me?” Six almost laughs. “Nothing really. But I am going to meet Eight and Five for a music lesson. We’re finally going to do it.”

“You haven’t?” Cyrus asks. “I thought you’d have already started by now.”

“Nah, we’ve been struggling to,” Six explains with a shrug of her shoulders and a light pout. “One of us keeps getting called out or just hasn’t come by. I went into the music room a minute ago and the both of them were there, so I guess that means we can start. But I wanted to pop in and see if Ten was around. Like I said, it’s been a little while.”

She looks at you and smiles again.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re doing okay. First time getting shot up wasn’t too bad, I hope.”

“It was exhausting,” you mutter. “But I guess I’m alright now.”

“It gets a little easier with time,” Cyrus chimes.

Six lowers a brow. “Yeah, but I personally still hate it either way. Plus I don’t really like staying in bed so much. Gale keeps me around sometimes if they have time for me. They’re not hard to talk to or anything, but it’s still kind of a chore to stay with them that long while simultaneously feeling like ass.”

Hearing Six talk about her doctor only makes you remember everything that happened in her room much more strongly. You start to wonder whether it’s worth asking her about the journal, or at least hinting at it. You’d rather Six not know that Gale had you in her room at all, even if she might be fine with it. Granted, she hardly seems like the type of person to overthink things like you. She certainly didn’t reflect that in the small bit of writing you did read, nor does she come across that way in person. It still might be better not to bring it up too much, but you admittedly can’t help your curiosity.

“Hey Six…” you speak up, causing the peachy girl to shift her focus to you. You try to play this as casually as possible so as not to arouse suspicion. “I know you’re going to learn music a little and all, but I’m kind of curious if you’re into any other stuff. Drawing, games…writing?”

“I kind of dabble here and there in whatever I can,” is the peachy young woman’s response. Again, she shrugs. “Mostly whatever’s available here. I don’t think I honed in on anything specific like some people. Lucky bastards!”

She says this jokingly and gives a light laugh, but you continue to press her casually.

“What about writing?”

Six blinks a moment as she tries to assess the answer to this question.

“Uh, not really,” she says. “I mean, if I’m being honest, my doctor gave me a journal to write in before you came to the facility, but I haven’t really touched it much. Not for any particular reason, though. I just don’t feel the inclination. I peck at it sometimes, but I don’t say much. I’m pretty sure my doctor reads what I write, so I don’t totally trust it. But anyway, I’m not a writer or anything. I like games, kind of. And I admit playing basketball with Nine’s fun. But that’s really it. Sorry I’m not super interesting.”

Six again laughs as she says this, brushing off the negative remark as a joke. You find her previous statement odd. Would Six not have already known that Gale reads their writing? She’d seemed to before. Both Lav and Cyrus look at Six a moment too, as if confused by her words after having the journal explained to them. You even start to find it strange that Six would openly mention a journal at all where she had been potentially secretive about having one before. It’s jarring.

“Well, you’re at least good enough at basketball to hold yourself up,” Lav cheekily remarks, changing the subject now. “We should play more sometime.”

“I’d be down!” Six declares readily and with a wide smile. She then gives a bit of a wave. “Anyway, I better get going. I want to learn as much as I can before the day ends, so I’m gonna head to the music room. I hope you feel better, Ten!”

You, Lav, and Cyrus all say your brief goodbyes as the peachy Six heads out of the rec room. Mention of the music room again only puts you off when you remember Yosuke there, but you try not to let it get to you too much. You don’t want to let your sourness at that night ruin your time now.

“I’m shocked she was so open about that,” Cyrus observes the same thing you did. “She had never mentioned it before. I always assumed she told Five everything only.”

“Did she have a journal before?” Lav inquires, evidently not wanting to raise suspicion about the fact that she knows the answer to that question. Cyrus plays along too.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know. If she did, she either doesn’t remember, or doesn’t want to. I can’t say I blame her if it’s the latter, though.”

You look down.

“Gale gave me a journal too,” you tell the two Numbers, causing them to look at you with genuine surprise. “I went to my room after we hung out in the crafts room, and it was on my desk. I was really frustrated by it. I knew that either Yosuke or Gale would monitor what I write in it and they chose to give it to me anyway. I don’t know why they thought I’d openly touch the thing.”

“So you didn’t write in it?” Lav asks. You shake your head.

“I only wrote one sentence recently after what Yosuke did,” you recall. “But nothing else. I don’t want to touch it. It’s bad enough that they observe us in general.”

“Who’s to say they don’t monitor anything we make?” Cyrus questions. “Not like the art we do in the crafts room is telling of anything in particular. It’s just simple art.”

“Don’t let Blue hear you say that,” Lav lightly laughs. “She’s an artist. She’ll probably chew you out about not understanding what you’re talking about. She says that art can be interpreted in a lot of different ways. It’s never really cut and dry, even when the artist means it to be.”

“She drew a picture of herself holding flowers the first time I hung out with her in the crafts room with the twins,” you note. “Does that mean she’s self-obsessed?”

Lav shakes her head. “I’d say it means she wants to love herself. In a place like this, it’s hard for some people to, after all. But that’s just how I see it.”

She then turns her head toward Cyrus. “What about you? What do you make of it?”

“I’d have to see the image for myself,” is the young man’s response. He then lightly smirks. “But if I had to guess, I’d say she really likes flowers.”

“Shut up!” Lav giggles, playfully nudging her companion. “You really don’t have a clue? Come on, you do all that meditation stuff, so you should know. Meditation is an art, right?”

“No,” Cyrus raises a brow. “Art is meditation. It does for Blue what stillness and mudras do for me.”

“Mudras?” You tilt your head, confused.

“The hand signs I make when I meditate,” Cyrus explains. “That’s what they’re called. At least, that’s what they’re referred to as in the books I’ve read. They’re gestures that often have meaning and purpose. Each one is special. But it’s not just limited to the hands. You can use different parts of your face when meditating, or even your voice. There are a lot of different methods to do stuff like this. Breathing a certain way, saying certain mantras, moving different parts of the body.”

He shrugs.

“Like I said, meditation is a part of yoga. But different kinds of yoga can be done with the entire body as much as with its individual parts. That’s why I thought I’d teach Nine what I could, since she likes using her body. I did have to study up a little more on the more physical stuff, though. I don’t know as much about it as I do meditation itself. But even in that, I still have more to learn. The selection of literature here isn’t enough to explain everything there is to know. I’d imagine it takes a lifetime of practice to even be considered good and knowledgeable at it all. I personally forget names easily and still don’t know all the conceptual and technical stuff behind it all, but it is fascinating to me.”

“Yoga’s really cool, actually,” Lav comments with a smile. “I just need to practice with it more. I think it could really help my flexibility.”

She rolls her eyes up a bit. “Uh, for sports, I mean. Not to be weird.”

Cyrus laughs amusedly. “Hey, whatever floats your boat.”

You smile at the two Numbers, glad to see them becoming closer the way you had been when you saw Eight interact with each of them. Being here now helps calm you immensely.

“What are some that you’ve used?” You ask curiously. “I’ve seen you meditate a few times, but I don’t much remember the exact gestures you made.”

Cyrus blinks in surprise. “You want to know?”

You give a light nod and smile slightly.

“Couldn’t hurt, you know,” Lav adds with encouragement. “I’d be willing to give it a try too. We’ve been at the posing stuff for a bit anyway. Plus, it might help take Ten’s mind off of things.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a weak laugh. Cyrus seems taken aback by Lav’s and your desire to understand what he does. He likely only knew Violet to cling to his word about the thing he enjoys. Even then, she didn’t seem to wholly understand it the time you remember meditating with the both of them.

“Um, sure, alright,” Cyrus speaks up. He then takes a moment to stand. “Here, switch with me, Ten.”

Putting your mug down on the ground, both you and Cyrus move to take the other’s place. He sits cross-legged on the couch now, while you sit on the floor beside Lav in the same position.

“I’ll give you a mini-lesson and just teach you a few,” Cyrus begins. “It’ll go by a bit quick, but let me know if you get lost.”

He holds up his right hand, palm out. “But first and foremost I should explain very briefly why this is important. So, each finger represents a different element. Starting from the thumb, it’s fire, air, ether, earth, and water, though ether’s sometimes just referred to as space. Therefore, each pose may correspond to a specific element and evoke healing in different centers of the body.

“The thing about the body is that it should be in spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical harmony. If there’s an imbalance in the heart, mind, or spirit, then things like meditation can help restore it. That’s sort of the purpose of these kinds of gestures. Each one may correspond to an element or may be used for a specific purpose, and will often align with a specific kind of what we call chakras. These are essentially just different centers of energy in the body. I won’t get into it since even I still have to study up on the stuff, but that’s the basic concept. It’s important to keep your energies flowing, and everything that makes up who you are in balance. Make sense?”

Both you and Lav give a nod. Without even having to be told, the both of you remain silent and attentive. You find it a little silly that there’s a lesson going on in the music room as well as here, and wonder how Five and Six are doing alone with Eight.

Focusing again on what’s happening now, you’re surprised how much emphasis is placed on the body and its energies. You’d never really considered anything beyond face value. Then again, you don’t know a lot about anything with your memory mostly gone.

“I’ll keep it simple and limit my explanation to the mudras and their general purpose,” Cyrus goes on. “Most of these will be kept close to the chest, put in the lap, or placed on the knees. I’d recommend always sitting cross-legged with your back straight for most of these, but there are a few you can do while standing.”

He brings his raised hand closer to his torso, but still keeps it palm out. Rather than spread his fingers, he moves them closer together in somewhat of a resting position. His thumb, however, he leaves opened outward. Both you and Lav mimic this gesture.

“This is one that represents fearlessness,” Cyrus explains. “It’s said to dispel fear and evoke reassurance of safety. It’s also seen as a gesture of peace and trust.”

Next, Cyrus turns his hand just enough so that his thumb is visible you and Lav. Like you’d seen him do once before, he curls his index finger and places his thumb over it while outwardly extending the rest of his fingers. Familiar with this gesture, you follow along without too much issue. Lav merely looks at the hand a moment before doing the same. Once he sees you’ve both gotten the hang of it, Cyrus makes the same gesture with his other hand and places both upon his knees, palms up.

“This one surrounds the ego,” he says. “ You do it with both hands and place them on your knees like I have them now. This gesture is meant for self-confidence and peace. It can help one overcome doubts and fear.”

You look on at Cyrus with concern as you hear this gesture’s purpose. The last time he’d used this, it was after you were gone for a few days. You must really have worried him in that case. Even when you came back and showed him that you were okay, he seemed to want to meditate longer.

Seeing that you and Lav have the hang of this gesture, Cyrus next brings his hands together, fingers pointed upward, before his chest. Resting his elbows at his sides, he touches the tips of each finger on one hand to the fingers on the other, his digits all opened wide as they meet. He waits for you and Lav to mimic this pose before speaking again.

“This one is for mindfulness and spiritual strength” he elaborates. “It’s essentially for one to control their own thoughts and gain power over their mind, perhaps in the case that poorly focused or knowingly ignorant. You guys following this okay?”

“Yeah,” Lav nods with a smile. You do the same. “Trust me, this is way easier than keeping still and balanced at the same time. At least sitting here I know I’m stable and won’t fall over.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Cyrus says with a light smile. He then slightly drops his arms so that his hands are closer to his lap, but does so without moving the bent position of his elbows. He points his hands downward, curling the fingers of one hand in the other while extending his thumbs out so that both tips are touching one other. Again, he awaits your and Lav’s mimicry of it before explaining the sign.

“This gesture is to evoke a state of calmness and concentration. To reduce stress and keep the balance between body and mind. It’s helpful for when you have a lot on your mind in general.”

After lingering on the gesture a moment and letting his students mimic him, he finally moves to the next one, again raising his arms so that his hands are at his chest level. Twisting his hands in opposite directions, with one palm facing him and the other facing you and Lav, he cups his fingers and clasps them over one another, keeping his thumbs resting against his index fingers as he holds his hands together. You have to do a double take to really see what he’s doing, but are able to mimic the gesture without much trouble otherwise.

“This is the last one I’ll teach you,” Cyrus says. “It’s one that has to do with overcoming obstacles. If you do it properly, you can feel the immediate effect of it just in the touch of your fingers alone. You’re grasping at them and creating a strong bond between your hands that’s unbreakable. This gesture is for things like helping to boost one’s sense of self-esteem and confidence. It’s associated with inner strength.”

Once he’s finished his small lesson, he parts his hands and presses them against the couch cushion he’s sitting on. Following him, you and Lav relax your hands as well. Lav leans on her knees with her arms folded, while you merely place yours in your lap.

“Those are some I tend to use,” your teacher tells you and Lav. “There are far more that exist, but these are more common for me. Do you guys have any questions?”

“So…you rely on these to help you through stress, right?” Lav asks. Cyrus nods.

“Some of them I use just to keep myself in check and keep that mental and spiritual balance,” he tells her. “Others…I guess I rely on them more when I’m stressed about something. It may seem weird, but it does help at times.”

“You really have this mind and body stuff figured out, huh?” You comment lightly. “You seem to be able to collect yourself easily.”

Cyrus looks away.

“Not really,” he admits, making both you and Lav look at him attentively. “Ten, I get stressed out beyond belief too. If I’m hit with something really big, I don’t always just immediately meditate. There are times where meditation can’t do me any good, where I have to wait and think a moment about my grievances before I can really work on mending what’s fractured. I know it’s important to stay balanced, but I’m still very human. I’ve only achieved what I have because of constant practice. But I’m not perfect.”

His eyes then drop to the floor, his expression just slightly downtrodden. But even with his less than positive self-assessment, he tries to remain upbeat and open.

“I think it’s okay to cry or scream or be angry in the moment just to let out the energy in your body that’s coming from your reaction to something,” he tells you. “Sometimes there’s no helping an imbalance in the heart and mind as a result of intense or sudden feelings that overwhelm us. Meditation restores imbalances, but if you do it at the wrong time or for the wrong reasons, it could hurt more than help. A highly negative emotional state isn’t going to be curable right away. Sometimes, you need to sort it out incrementally. There’s a process to overcoming your grief and misery.”

You look on at Cyrus worriedly, saying nothing for a moment as you assess his slightly sullen face. He’s suffered far more than you’ll ever know, even with what he’s said to you already. How he’s survived this long you can’t imagine. You’d always thought of him as stronger than you, the way you thought Lav was. But little by little, you’ve come to see even he can be fragile.

“Cyrus. Thank you,” you tell him suddenly. This causes the young man to blink and snap back to the conversation from his own thoughts. He finally looks back up at you. “I really appreciate you teaching us this.”

“Yeah,” Lav agrees with a sweet smile. “You’re not a bad teacher, you know. And this stuff is pretty helpful. I do want to give it a try. Not just the body stuff, but the hand mudras too.”

Cyrus’ lips part as if he wants to speak, but he doesn’t right away. He merely looks on at the both of you before him and again lets a smile return to his lips.

“Thank you for listening,” he finally answers. “Any time I’ve tried to teach this to the others, they get really noisy or distracted. I don’t mind it, because evidently It isn’t for them. Though I really appreciate that they’ve given my way a try.”

He shrugs.

“Anyway, maybe learning to be still will help you learn to move, Nine. If that makes sense. You might need to take this in steps. In order to do what it is you want, you’ll have to learn to do what you’re not used to. Meditating requires a lot of stillness, but you can’t stand to be still. All you need to do is overcome that obstacle.”

“Okay, master Cyrus,” Lav teases with a grin, making a playful bowing gesture with her hands conjoined. “I’ll work on it. Ten will too, right?”

“Huh?!” You look at the girl with a confused expression. “Hey, don’t bring me into this.”

“I mean, we’ve both taught you a thing or two by now,” Lav laughs, bringing a finger to her lips and giving a subtle wink. “Cyrus isn’t the only teacher.”

You blush at her cheekiness.

“What did you teach her?” Cyrus questions curiously. Lav merely shrugs.

“Nothing much,” is her casual response. “Just stuff she could use on her own. Kind of like meditation. Right, Ten?”

Obviously Lav’s been picking up on a few cheekier mannerisms from Blue if she’s been hanging out with her so much. You pout slightly, but don’t confirm or deny this statement. Perhaps Cyrus will brush it off. He doesn’t appear to really react to it, at least.

Before anyone can speak again, the rec room doors again open. You and Lav almost jump at the sudden noise from behind you, but turn your bodies slightly to see who’s coming in now. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Violet.

She looks crestfallen and weary, but otherwise okay, much to your relief. Seeing her now assuages your worry about her only slightly, but you’re acutely aware there’s more to worry about with her. Violet merely stands by the entrance a moment and glances over at Lav, then you. When she sees you, her eyes immediately drop to the side. Perhaps seeing you with Cyrus again is only putting her off slightly, but she almost looks as if she’s embarrassed to see you again after what you two talked about. Seeing her react with sullenness to you isn’t much better than seeing her react angrily, you find. But you can’t do much about it right now.

The room remains quiet as Violet stands there, and when you turn your head toward Cyrus, you see him looking on at the girl with slightly widened eyes, watching her intently. He seems eager to see her, yet frozen by hesitance and uncertainty.

“Vi…” he calls out with a low voice. He doesn’t appear to say much else, likely because he has no idea what to. Violet merely responds with a light grimace upon hearing him quietly utter her nickname, but she eventually looks up at Cyrus and speaks.

“Cyrus…I need to talk to you,” she says. “Alone.”

The blue-clothed young man does not immediately respond or react, merely sitting there with a focused and wide-eyed expression. You’re sure he’s surprised to see Violet again after everything that happened. Perhaps it both assuages and terrifies him to see her now. He’d wanted to repair what they broke and rebuild it in a different way, but you can also imagine he’s worried about how she’ll react to him after what happened.

After a moment of not really reacting to her request, Cyrus finally rises from the couch, to his feet, and lightly nods.

“Sure,” he says. “Wherever you like.”

Lav glances at Cyrus a moment, watching with her amber eyes as he steps around the both of you to meet with Violet. Your royal blue companion turns back for just a second, though, and calls out,

“Sorry, but I need to do this. I’ll see you guys around, okay? I hope you feel better, Ten.”

“Take your time,” Lav smiles while you give a subtle wave of your own. “See you two later.”

Violet doesn’t bother to acknowledge her nor you, but you’re sure she heard Lav. Despite her miserable and worried state, you’re hoping that her choosing to come out to Cyrus now is at least some step forward. You’re certain it’s going to be rough for Cyrus to hear what she has to say just as much as it will be for her to say it.

Both Violet and Cyrus eventually leave your sight, and the rec room doors again close.

“I really hope they’ll be okay…” Lav muses, her voice low. “It’s been a while since that thing between them happened. Not once did they ever really talk to each other. And not once did Violet ever come out to interact with us. We were only ever able to watch her from a distance.”

You give a light shake of your head. “She seemed a bit grievous when we talked. Like I told Cyrus, she wasn’t mad at him at all. Moreso herself.”

“Well, I guess she realized she was being kind of a jerk,” Lav shrugs, using a casual tone. She then sighs. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t talk about that stuff so casually. I think Blue’s starting to rub off on me a little, actually.”

You lower a brow. “Yeah, I noticed. What was up with you almost telling Cyrus what you taught me in the theater?”

“Hey, I didn’t tell him. I wasn’t going to. But…” Lav looks down. “I dunno. I’m totally sorry. I just thought it was silly that we both had something to teach you. Hell, even Eight did to some degree.”

“Eight’s just been trying to keep me from sinking by keeping me in check,” you respond bluntly, trying not to make a big deal of his kindness if only for his sake. You know he dislikes the attention. “And…I just don’t know how Cyrus would really react to knowing about what you and I did. He knows I did stuff, just not with who. I’d rather not bring you up so openly. Though, I don’t want to think he’ll be upset since he’s always been relaxed about certain things. Even you seemed pretty chill about knowing he and I did stuff.”

“You mean had sex?” Lav cocks a brow. Her blunt question makes you blush lightly.

“I didn’t really wanna call it that. I don’t know if that even counts since it wasn’t…consensual?”

The lavender girl gives a light shrug of her shoulders. “I guess not. But I’m sure he wanted to take care of you as best he could, given the situation. He’s a good guy. And he’s not as shy about that stuff as you might think.”

“Huh?” Your head tilts slightly in your confusion. Lav merely gives a light smile.

“Ten, he doesn’t openly talk about sexual stuff with others because he knows they don’t want to hear it. But when we were talking, we eventually became pretty open about what the doctors did, how it made us feel, what we do to calm our nerves. He knows I don’t have boundaries about that stuff unless others do. Now I know he doesn’t either.”

You want to be shocked, but suppose this isn’t too terribly strange. Cyrus had been a bit open about his experiences at first until you made it clear that it embarrassed you. But, as of late, you realize it’s become slightly easier to talk about this kind of thing. You still feel shame to some degree, but maybe not as much as you used to with how much you’ve been through. It would, however, take eons to reach the same level of openness that someone like Lav has.

“Hell, we had a conversation about sexual well-being, and he went off about some of the books he’s read that talk a lot about things like that,” she continues. “How to be sexually healthy, express your sexuality in a healthy way, different kinds of outlets. Even things about desire and emotion. I was actually really surprised he read any of that. I never pegged him as the type to be open about that stuff.”

You again blush.

“Neither did I. But I guess it’s good you have that in common.”

“He’s nowhere near at my level,” Lav chuckles. “He may have been here longer and learned how to work his way around, but I think he’s still shy at times. He’s just not easily put off by the discussion itself. But he’s only ever known being taken advantage of and conforming to his doctor’s mold. He’s not really had experience with anyone but people who use and hurt him. That applies to most everyone here. Even then, he knows not to treat people like garbage. So do I. I’ve just apparently had a tiny bit more experience than him I guess. Partly with my own self, but also…with you.”

“Does masturbation count as ‘experience’?” You jest, making Lav burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, maybe not entirely. But I was still your first Number,” she chortles. “Anyway, I’m sure Five and Six one-up me on that front. I admittedly don’t know what they do or if they do anything sexual, but I won’t ask if they don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I’m sure they mess around somewhat,” you suppose. “They’re always alone together. But it’s good that they’re happy.”

You look down.

“Someone has to be around here. Even the twins are able to smile. Even Blue.”

“Blue found her happiness the same way I did. Through the self and taking control of it,” Lav responds pointedly. “And the twins probably only smile because they’re together all the time. I don’t know if it’s a sibling thing or a twin thing or what, but they really bounce off one another.”

She shrugs.

“Two seems to handle himself okay without Three as long as he knows she’s okay. But Three almost falls apart without him. With how much they rely on one another, I’m almost convinced they’re messing around, honestly.”

You blink in surprise, and your heart skips a beat. “W-what makes you say that?”

Lav scoffs. “Come on, they’re always together, and then they constantly run off together when they’re around us. Plus, I don’t know about you, but that time they acted out their little scene, Three was acting pretty clingy. I feel like they have a relationship that goes beyond just ‘sibling’.”

Lav had suggested as much that day, you recall. You hadn’t wanted her to piece it together, but now it seems that’s unavoidable. Hesitantly, you part your lips to speak, but don’t say anything right away. Lav merely looks at you with a curious eye.

“Don’t you think so?” She asks. You shift your gaze away and lightly shrug a shoulder.

“Is it wrong?” You question her. “Obviously, it’s a little taboo, but…in a place like this, maybe they just need each other. But, I mean, we don’t know that it’s actually true.”

“I’m not super observant all the time like Eight is, but I’m not dumb,” Lav looks down. “I’m sure that I’m right. But if it’s true, I guess I can’t blame them. I don’t personally like the idea, but I guess it can’t be helped in a place like this, like you said.”

She gives a long sigh and promptly waves her hand casually around.

“Besides, they’re the only people here I know of who are related. They’re twins. It’s not…that astonishing when you think about it. You have them locked up in a miserable place and only they can really understand one another because they’re blood. Three’s a timid girl who needs attention from someone, and nobody here is really close enough to her to understand her the way she needs them to. What’s to be expected?”

You look over at Lav finally, frowning. “I don’t really like the idea either. But I’d never compromise their happiness in a place like this.”

“Neither would I,” Lav agrees. “I won’t ever really ask them. In the end, it’s none of my business. All I know is that Three’s the dependent one of the two, so I guarantee her brother is just helping her. He seems the type to want to take care of his sister. I respect that much, at least. But in the real world, I’d be far less forgiving.”

“Well, like I said, at least they know how to make their own happiness and keep smiling,” you say lowly, wanting to move on from this topic. “Even Blue and you can crack jokes like it’s nothing.”

Lav gently nudges you with her elbow. “Hey, you were smiling just a while ago. We all were. It’s not so hard, see?”

You blush and look away.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you go silent a bit, and Lav eventually decides to shift her position down so that she’s laying on her side, supporting her head in one hand while resting her other hand on the floor with her arm drooping over her torso. She’s facing you, her head closer to the couch and your legs while you continue to sit cross-legged before the plush thing while looking on at the young woman.

“You know, I wasn’t like this all the time,” Lav remarks. “I mean, I wasn’t super sad or anything by any means. Not like Violet or Three can be sometimes. I’ve always been pretty straightforward about what I want and stubborn against those who tried to stop me from being that way.

“But even then, it wasn’t exactly easy to adjust to all this. I had my own moments of doubt, my own insecurities that I didn’t let anyone see and I worked out on my own. That’s what worked for me. I got lucky with it because of who I am as a person. Others need a little more guidance, maybe a hand to hold. And that’s fine. But in the same vein as Cyrus, even I’m not perfect. I still feel things. Maybe you won’t believe me, but even I cry sometimes.”

“I’d never have guessed,” you casually remark, almost as if joking. “I always thought you were pretty tough. You, Cyrus, and Eight all seem to be able to think more clearly about certain things.”

“But we’re still human,” Lav points out, raising her free arm up to reach for her ponytail. She lightly tugs the thing loose, undoing the hairband holding her blonde hair together so that it can hang freely. “I’m sure even Eight probably feels things he’d rather not. Though I’d personally be weirded out to see him cry or something. I’ve only ever known him to be angry.”

“That’s probably how he prefers to be seen,” you suppose. “He’s more…serious I guess. Cyrus is like his opposite.”

Lav rolls her eyes casually. “Literally anyone here could be his opposite. But I mean, he is pretty alright all things considered. I never thought I’d be talking to him as much as I have been because of you. He’s even stopped barking at me for bothering him. As long as there’s a level of respect, he’s okay with others being around.”

“And what about you and Blue?” You question cheekily. “You’ve been hanging out with her more too, it seems.”

Lav smiles. “On and off. We watch movies together sometimes, and I’ve watched her draw here and there. But since you’ve been disappearing for a few days at a time, I’ve mostly hung around Cyrus. Without Violet clinging to him and without you to talk with him, he’s mostly been by himself. After how he’s talked about the other Numbers, I was kind of worried. I didn’t want him to get upset about it and start thinking you were going to disappear.”

“But I’m not,” You tell her. “It’s just been one thing after another lately, and I don’t know what else to say about it. I don’t have any control over anything that happens to me. I try to fight it as much as I can, but in the end I can’t do anything.”

You heave a sigh.

“Maybe it’s time I just learned to deal with it. I can’t help how I react to certain things, but…”

“It’s okay to be afraid or angry,” Lav shakes her head, dismissing your first statement once you trail off. “It’s normal. Don’t expect to adjust to things so quickly.”

“But it’s been a while already, hasn’t it? Everyone keeps calling me weak for still being the way I am after what I’ve been through.”

“You mean the doctors have,” Lav points out with a light, disapproving frown. “I mean, sure it’s been a while. But everyone takes different amounts of time to come to terms with things. There’s also a difference between strategically giving up and completely surrendering. Take that from people like Violet or Eight. I’ve heard that Violet just lets herself go in the moment then snaps back to when things are over and she’s here. Like her, Eight only does what he has to and nothing more.”

You glance up at the ceiling in thought. “Strategic, huh?”

“Yup!” Lav chirps. “It’s okay to let go when you have no other choice. As long as you’re still you at the end of the day, and as long as you have something to help you along. I guess in your case, it’s others. I still don’t think you should rely solely on them, but if it helps, it helps.”

“Should I mimic what you guys do?” You half-heartedly joke. “Then again, maybe that’s not a great idea. Even I told Violet she should find her own thing when I talked to her. She was trying to mimic you, you know.”

“Huh?” Lav blinks at you. “What do you mean?”

“She was trying to swim naked. She said she thought it might help her,” you explain with a light shrug. “I...can’t really blame her, you know. You’re able to go through all this without much of a problem. Even if it did take time, you seem like you’ve always been resilient and sturdy. I’d give anything to have that quality. I’m a little jealous of some of the others for being able to deal with this so easily. Even knowing that they struggled…all I know is who they are now. I feel like I’m lagging behind.”

“Okay, see, you’re doing that thing that Violet does,” Lav points out, frowning just slightly. “Comparing yourself to others. Neither of you should. Everyone’s different, Ten. Plus, you’re really new. Don’t forget that. Of course you’re gonna take time to adjust where others might have already done so.”

“Yeah, I know,” you heave a sigh, then lay flat on your back against the floor while uncrossing your legs to bring them out. “I’m just tired. I don’t know.”

Lav looks at you a moment before rising from her spot on the floor, sitting up. Her expression seems worried, with her eyebrows lowered slightly and her gaze focused intensely on your face.

“Ten…you’ve been saying that quite a bit,” she points out. “It’s a little worrying.”

“But I really am tired,” you try to defend yourself, knowing full well what she’s getting at. Even Cyrus had looked at you worriedly when you said it earlier. “I mean, I am emotionally and mentally exhausted just as much as physically, but…I’m okay. Really.”

The lavender young woman says nothing for a moment, instead shifting herself over so that she’s lying beside you, her back flat against the floor as well. Whereas you’ve put your hands over your stomach, Lav merely stays with hers behind her head. The both of you remain silent as you stare mindlessly at the ceiling. However, Lav eventually breaks the silence.

“I’m flattered that you think so much of me,” she says lowly. “Really. But we’re all still human, like I said. Don’t ever forget that even the strong have weaknesses. We just have to keep moving, that’s all. Learn to work around what we know, ground ourselves in the face of vulnerability, that sort of thing. But it’s not like being vulnerable is wrong. Sometimes, you just find yourself being that way. Like Cyrus said, crying is fine, being mad is fine. Inevitable, even. We all have feelings, y’know?”

“I know,” you smile and close your eyes. You’re grateful to have spoken so casually with her and Cyrus. No pressure to hide your feelings, no obligation to be a certain way. Even if it’s impractical to want to stay here and not have to go back into the hall, you still wish you could.

Lav merely follows your lead, resting comfortably beside you. The conversation ebbs after this, with silence now washing over the both of you. You know for sure that you don’t fall asleep, but do feel relaxed enough to be numbed by the cool floor and the stillness in the room.

As you lay there, you start to wonder how Violet and Cyrus are doing, and where they might have gone. You imagine it won’t be easy for the young woman to get out what she needs to. In this way, you suppose you’re similar to her. It was always difficult for you to get out what it is you wanted to. You felt like you had to hide everything from others to keep the peace with them without considering they’d genuinely be okay with anything you did so long as you weren’t trying to hurt them on purpose.

You’ll still try to hold onto what could be unnecessarily hurtful like what you know about the twins and the peachy girlfriends, but you’re starting to be more open with a few of the other Numbers now. Maybe you have been making some semblance of progress without really realizing it. You’re still phenomenally skittish and hesitant with what you’ve endured so far, but at least you can recognize that you’ve come a long way with most of the Numbers. But, like Cyrus said of his craft, there’s still more to learn.

Despite the quiet, it’s the sound of the intercom that breaks everything and snaps both you and Lav back to. Your eyes open immediately upon hearing an unfamiliar voice.

“Nine to the front, please!” it chirps happily. It’s a lively voice, one that sounds almost as chipper as Mom’s, if only a little older. There’s a light accent behind it you can’t place any more than you’d been able to with Milos’ voice, but it’s perfectly comprehensible. The voice stops after the initial call, but starts up again, lower this time. More distant. “Oh, how do I turn this off?”

You hear a light, equally distant sigh, followed by a “here” from a voice you’re sure is Mom’s. After this, the intercom shuts off. Immediately, you sit up and stare up at the ceiling, with Lav slowly following you and looking on at your confused expression.

“Who the hell was that?” You question. Lav merely shrugs, as if it’s nothing new to her.

“I don’t know them myself, but it’s another doctor who officially showed up while you were away,” she explains. “Blue caught sight of her in the hall pretty recently. I’m not so sure she’s completely new, but I don’t recognize her, and neither did Blue. Still, this lady’s new to our neck of the woods for sure. You see anyone before this?”

“No…” you mull it over. “I’ve been asleep a lot, remember? I did hear Mom and Yosuke talk in my dream, but I didn’t think their conversation was real. Mom mentioned a ‘her’. I wasn’t sure who she meant.”

Saying this throws you off. Were you listening in on a real conversation between the two doctors in your sleep? Were you just waking up at that point? Where were you, in that case? You wonder if Yosuke had brought you into the office with Mom at some point. In the conversation they had in your dream, you remember Mom seemed to imply Yosuke was avoiding her, but that she caught him right then. Maybe that’s why he’d seemed hesitant to be there.

Lav stands herself up, then helps you off of the floor. “What about before? Did you ever see or hear anything suspicious?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “I don’t remember too well. The only thing I can think of is when Mom was taken away for a while. Someone else was manning the gate.”

Lav looks at the floor in contemplation, a hand to her chin.

“Huh…think it was her?”

You again shake your head. “I have absolutely no clue. But it is weird. Why bring a new doctor in? Does she even have a Number?”

“I don’t know either,” Lav says. “She literally just arrived here. But either she’s completely new, or she’s only completely new to this area of the facility. Blue said she seemed kind of ditzy and nice, but she didn’t really talk to her much.”

“Do the others know about her?”

“Nope,” is the lavender young woman’s blunt response. “Not everyone’s seen or heard from her. Like I said, she just showed up. I’m sure we’ll all meet her one way or another. Depending on what and who she likes.”

She sighs. “Look, I should go. I don’t want to keep whoever’s out there waiting for too long, especially if it’s one of the particularly jerky doctors. Stay here, but if you wanna see who that woman is, come out after I’m gone.”

Before Lav has the chance to walk off, you stop her and point to the pants she’s still wearing.

“Oh, shit, right!” She exclaims, hurrying to pull them off. The hem of her lavender gown falls over her now-bare thighs, while Two’s spare pants remain on the floor. “Toss them anywhere. The workers will probably get it later. I’m sure Two and Three won’t come today if they haven’t by now, so it should be fine to leave them out.”

The both of you give one another quick goodbyes as Lav heads off into the hall. Now that you’re left alone, you’re not sure what to think of another doctor being here. Just from the sound of her voice alone, she seemed like she might be yet another woman as lively as Mom when she’s in one of her happier moods. Even so, you don’t trust this person. They’re here for a reason, you’re certain.

Do the others who are here know a thing about her? Will they come out as well? You’re curious whether they’d reacted with the same surprise as you upon hearing her voice. They seem to be far more adaptive of change than you with how long they’ve been here. Even so, you’re sure even they don’t like surprises when it comes to the doctors any more than you do.

You wonder whether the emergence of someone new will also mean the emergence of a new Number, or if this new doctor will be without one at all. Is that even possible? You ponder if even the boss or his mercenary doctor have someone they oversee. There hadn’t been any indication of this in the times you met either of them. In fact, you’re sure the boss is someone who’s too busy to deal with overseeing any one person. He likely oversees everyone entirely. Perhaps that’s why Mom kept referring to him as an “overseer”. You recall her referring to her boss this way both in your dream and once before, after all.

As advised, you wait a moment to give Lav enough time to leave the hall entirely. Before leaving the rec room, you politely fold Two’s spare pair of pants and leave it on one of the couch’s armrests.

As you make your way to the hall, you struggle to breathe a moment as you’re hit with the stressful memories of everything that has happened there. You suppose it’s better this than vomiting or crying. Still, you try to focus yourself and keep still, clutching your chest as you suck in slow, long breaths until you’re able to breathe normally on your own.

Nobody’s around now, but you don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing. Is the new doctor as cruel and unforgiving as the others? Why would you want to see her in that case? Maybe she’s already good friends with Mom with how lively and sweet she sounded. She could easily be like her, presenting herself in a way that doesn’t truly reflect who she is, but rather who she wants to be seen as.

You’re not sure you could handle another person being like Mom. Yosuke acting like her was bad enough. Still, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you approach the gate. Nobody comes by, and you don’t really hear anything coming from the records office, even with its door half-open. Perhaps you hear what might be a few murmurs, but you can’t quite tell.

You turn your head toward the infirmary door and glimpse the CALL DOCTOR button. Though you mindlessly wander to the thing, you halt before pressing it and ponder a moment. You thought it didn’t work last time when it evidently had. The only reason Yosuke ever came out of the records office was likely because you hit the button to begin with that night. Had you not bothered, maybe he’d never have come. Or, at least, you’d have postponed the inevitable. Even just a little.

So, why make the same mistake? You ask yourself. It might be stupid to willingly seek out a doctor’s appearance without a good reason. Sighing, you lower your hand. But before you can turn to leave, a voice calls out to you.

“Little girl, that’s only for emergencies.”

Finally whipping yourself around, you see Mom standing by the gate with her arms folded, her lips curved upward into a light smirk. Seeing her face again now, most of her first injuries are starting to heal over. They’re a lot less pronounced than they were the first time you saw her with the injuries so fresh, but they’re still visible. The woman merely eyes you with her green gaze, watching as you shift away from the infirmary door and keypad.

“I wasn’t going to press it, Mom” you tell her. “I decided not to.”

“But why were you to begin with?” The woman coyly questions, still smiling. Though, she quickly moves on from this. “Well, I see you’ve made a fine recovery, sweet girl. I’m glad. You were apparently out for a few days. Your doctor didn’t even bother to bring you here.”

She giggles and tilts her head a bit.

“Yosuke’s been naughty and avoiding me. Did you have fun with him, Ten? Do you even remember it?”

You look away. The reminder frustrates you, but you simultaneously pity the woman for being taken advantage of by Yosuke. You have at least that in common. Though, you’re not sure having anything in common with a doctor is a good thing.

“I’m certain by that cute little angry look on your face that you do,” Mom continues to tease you. “That man really does enjoy fawning over you. So much so that he leaves me out in the cold.”

Mom sighs wearily and puts a hand to her cheek.

“But he’s still a cutie doctor. I can’t stay mad forever. Not at either of you.”

By the way she’s speaking, you’re really convinced the conversation you overheard in your dream was real. But you’re not sure it’d be wise to ask Mom about it. Let her be in her happy little mood. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.

Mom glances at you a moment as you remain silent and still. She starts to frown now.

“Ten, I read your file,” she says. “I have to pry. I do manage all the records, after all. It’s important that I look over these things and give second opinions where needed.”

She starts making a few tsk, tsk noises.

“You are very strange. I was right to be wary of your body’s response to our little sleeping drug the first time things didn’t go as expected. Yet, I’ve been told it’s nothing important. Why is that?”

“I…don’t know, Mom,” you answer truthfully, and with a bit of confusion. “I’m not sure either.”

“I’ll be keeping a sharp eye on you, little girl,” Mom chuckles, smiling again. “But I’m glad you’re doing better. I’d have been a little sad to see you crumble after your procedure.”

Your eyes widen slightly.

“You mean…die?” You question, stepping forward without realizing it as your curiosity overwhelms you. Before Mom can answer with anything at all, a woman with mid-length hair and lively brown eyes framed behind thin, round glasses emerges from the records office behind her. Dressed in strangely casual but tight-fitting clothes made up of a nice, short-sleeved blouse of some reddish plum color, blue jeans, and white sneakers, she looks fairly out of place compared to the others who dress in what you’d assume to be something akin to office attire. This woman doesn’t have her coat on, but you wonder whether she even has one with how casually she’s dressed. It feels strange to see someone like this.

In the woman’s dainty hands is a folder, one that isn’t super thick but definitely has a few good pages from what you can see sticking out of it.

“Mamita!” She chirps. “Sorry, I need help figuring out where to place these reports. The ones I brought earlier?”

Mom rolls her eyes up slightly as if slightly vexed by this request, but turns her body around. You notice that she hides you from the other woman’s sight with her own body, much to your confusion.

“I told you where those kinds of files go already,” Mom tells the other woman firmly. “You spent time learning all of this for how long? You should know how things are organized.”

“It’s taking me time to adjust, you know!” The woman by the office door sweetly laughs at her own lack of knowledge. “I can’t help forgetting a few small details with the sudden change in atmosphere.”

“Fine, fine,” Mom answers her with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be right over to show you. Again.”

You peek past Mom’s shoulder, leaning over just enough to see the other woman more clearly. She sees you almost immediately, blinking a moment at the sight of you before finally giving a wide, plump-lipped smile.

“Hi there!” She greets cheerily, finally walking over to you and Mom. The blonde doctor is none too pleased by her failure to hide you from sight, but she turns back around to face you and plays along nonetheless. The other woman merely walks to the gate and looks at you with her brown eyes, watching you warmly.

As she steps closer, you can see that her ears have some kind of long earrings hanging from them, tipped with white, spherical shapes of some sort that you think might actually be pearls. Admittedly, they pair nicely with the beige of her skin and the brown tones in her hair. Her face is lightly decorated with makeup like Mom’s, with her eyelids subtly lined with black and her lips coated in what looks like some kind of pale maroon color that almost looks brown at a first glance.

“This is Doctor Santos,” Mom introduces the woman begrudgingly. “She’s going to be helping me around the office from now on. Orders from up top.”

She opens her palm toward you from behind Doctor Santos as she says this, showing you her stitches again as if to remind you of the man who gave them to her. Her eyes just barely glower, but you’re able to tell she’s not at all happy about this change.

Santos’ smile does not waver as she extends her hand toward the bars and before you.

“You can call me Monica,” she tells you kindly. “It’s wonderful to meet you!”

You look up at the woman with confusion. Not once has a doctor tried to shake your hand before. It catches you completely off guard. You end up hesitating a moment before finally reciprocating her shake, reaching through the bars to do so. Her touch is phenomenally warm, and her grasp is firm.

“Um…Ten,” you confusedly introduce yourself. “Hi…”

Admittedly, you’re distracted by how curvaceous this woman’s clothes make her look. She’s none too humble about showing off the shape of her chest and hips. You suppose she’s comfortable with her body in much the same way as someone like Lav is. You also notice a few fine lines underneath Monica’s eyes that you can see better with her proximity, but you’re not sure how old she really is. She looks fairly youthful and sprightly for someone who might possibly be a little older, though you can likely chalk this up to her attitude as much as her appearance. She doesn’t act like any adult you’ve met so far.

You look over at Mom as if seeking an answer to this woman’s sudden appearance and demeanor, but she remains silent with her arms folded and her brows lightly lowered. She doesn’t appear to be too happy. You’re not sure why she tried to hide you from Monica at all when the woman would have eventually seen you anyway. Perhaps she wanted to talk to you alone a bit longer. Maybe Monica’s popping out from the office was a blessing in that case.

“You’re one of the first few Numbers I’ve gotten to meet so far!” Monica laughs. “I saw another girl the other day, but she didn’t really stick around much. I didn’t either since I was still settling in and running errands. But I did meet Number Nine briefly. She seemed nice.”

“Are you new…?” You question, not entirely sure how to talk to this woman. She almost seems genuinely friendly. There has to be a catch to her sweetness, you’re sure. There couldn’t not be.

Monica nods a little, still with her enthusiasm intact.

“I thought that was obvious!” she answers with another laugh. Much like Mom’s voice radiates a sultry tone, Monica’s seems to be joyful and light. Though, whatever accent she has is fairly sharp. “I’m still figuring out how things work here.”

“But…are you new to the facility?”

Monica’s smile fades a moment as she looks up in thought, as if unsure how to answer this, or perhaps unsure of whether she should. In her uncertainty, she glances at Mom a moment as if seeking guidance.

“Don’t pry, little girl,” Mom says with a frown, stepping in for the sprightly woman. “Normally I’d love to play around with my little princess, but with the fresh meat here, I’ve got work to do. So why don’t you go back to your friends? I can always see my pretty girl another time.”

You say nothing, merely standing there as Mom’s cheeriness diminishes once she has to go back to dealing with Monica. She then unfolds her arms and snatches the folder from her associate’s hands before turning to leave. However, Monica doesn’t follow right away. She merely glances back at you and smiles again. Somehow, Mom’s evident displeasure at the woman doesn’t shake her mood whatsoever. Is she playing off any potential annoyance? Or is she genuinely that chipper?

“It was nice to meet you, Ten” she chimes up with a light wave of her hand. “I’ll be here from now on if you ever need me.”

“W-wait!” You stop her as she prepares to walk off. Monica merely turns halfway to get a glimpse at you and await your word. You merely look away, hesitant to ask her anything now that you have her attention. You’re not sure if asking something would be stepping out of line. But if she’s really new, maybe she’ll more easily divulge information because she’s not in tune with how things work here yet.

You’re not certain what precisely to ask, but end up blurting out,

“When did you get here?”

Admittedly, this sounds stupider out loud than you meant it to. Your intent was to ask if she was the woman who’d been in the office while Mom was away. In response to your question, Monica gives a light shrug.

“A little while ago,” she says. “I’ve been here a few times before as a replacement for Mamita, and I’ve been training on how things are done here slowly. My boss wasn’t sure whether to make my position here permanent, so I was told to stay quiet and low.”

This seems to confirm what you suspected without you having to ask your real question outright. Truly, you’re not sure what else to ask the woman with how surprising it is to encounter someone new. Not to say that you’d “gotten settled” with everyone here, but you hadn’t expected to meet more people. Then again, you’ve already met new workers and gotten more insight on Marcellus. Perhaps the emergence of yet another doctor shouldn’t be all too strange to you. Lav certainly didn’t find it odd.

“I’ve met some of the doctors already,” Monica adds happily. “Even yours. He spoke very fondly of you and was very polite to me. He seems like a very kind man.”

Not exactly, you think. But Monica evidently sees what Yosuke’s chosen to present at face value. You’re sure she’ll learn how everyone really is over time. You’re curious as to how she’ll react to certain things. She’s almost as innocent to all of this as you, it looks like.

“If you’ve been here a while, why haven’t you visited any of us?” You question, curling your hands around the bars of white, metal gate before you. “I’m sure you’d have the freedom to. That’s why you people are here to begin with, right?”

“Visit?” Monica raises a brow. “I don’t know yet. I have to see how things go. Right now I’m supposed to do a bit of work.”

She casually waves her hand around as she says this. “You know, settle in.”

“Monica!” Mom calls sharply from the doorway, causing Monica to lightly jump in surprise. “Honestly, don’t talk to them unless you know what you’re doing!”

“Sorry!” Monica apologizes with a light tone, turning back to the office. This time, she doesn’t bother to give a goodbye. As the two women retreat back to the records office, you’re left standing at the gate, confused about how to process this encounter. Not only are you left wondering about the woman, you’re also worried to find out what she’s into. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough not to end up visiting her.

Not wanting to linger in the hall by yourself, you decide to try retreating to the library. You’re sure that Cyrus and Violet are somewhere more remote like the theater, and you’d prefer not to bother the peachy girls and their music teacher during their lesson. So, you stay among shelves of books. Though, you don’t really bother to read any right away with so much going through your mind.

As you sit by one of the grey metal tables near a shelf full of fiction, you wonder why Mom’s acting the way she is with Monica. Does her presence here mean Mom has to watch herself more? Is she being replaced slowly? Her reaction to the chipper woman could be from a number of things—spite over potentially being replaced or having to share her office domicile, disgust at Monica’s unshaken cheeriness, jealousy of her in some way. If Mom’s boss wanted to insult her, bringing in someone like Monica might have really done the trick. Mom didn’t at all seem happy that entire interaction. Maybe her boss did this on purpose, to fuck with her.

At the very least, Monica’s presence might mean less time for Mom to hover over you or any of the other Numbers. Unfortunately, that also means she’ll have to focus intensely on Cyrus. Even if he’s gotten the hang of dealing with her, you still pity him for having a woman like her as his doctor the same way you pity anyone else for who they have to put up with. Especially people like Five, Lav, and Violet.

As your mind continues to wander, you again think of what Mom had said. She seemed to imply that people could die during the routine injection the Numbers get. Is that true? Or was she just toying with you to see your reaction? You wouldn’t put it past her to do it. She seemed marginally spiteful speaking of you to Yosuke in your dream. And, she’s always had a habit of messing with you, as with when she left the gate open and told you to run.

Yosuke had said he’d let her visit you again someday. You certainly hope it’s not going to be for a while. You’d sooner share more time with him than her, even if he’s acting so much like her these days. He seems to think it was only for that one night, but you’re certain there’s more to it than that. He’s been changing slowly as he’s become more obsessed with you. For some reason, he doesn’t see it. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.

Wanting to shake away the negative thoughts, you focus on your time with Lav and Cyrus earlier. In curiosity, you try mimicking one of the gestures Cyrus taught you both. Of the five, you decide to try the one regarding balance. As instructed prior, you sit straight and cross your legs before curling one palm in the other and pressing your thumbs together. Quietly and with your eyes closed, you sit in the library and focus on breathing. You’re not sure for how long you have to do this to get something out of it, but you admit that the silence and calm does help a little. Even with your thoughts still buzzing, you’re able to focus without the interruption of noise or vision. All you’re really able to concentrate on is the touching of your hands and the position of your body.

It’s not clear to you for how long you stay in this position, but it does help more than you expected. Perhaps it’s only you perceiving that it does because you want it to. Even if that’s the case, you’re pretty surprised by the effect nonetheless. It certainly won’t solve all your problems overnight, but you can see why Cyrus finds strength in this kind of thing. And, for sure, it’ll really help Lav.

Deciding that you’re done with your brief meditation, you lay back against the floor and stare up at the ceiling, surrounded by the bookshelves that tower over you. The sight merely reminds you of the planters in the garden, and the bushes in your dream.

You close your eyes again and think to yourself for longer about what’s happened as of late. You hope you won’t have to see Marcellus again. You’re sure you only dreamt of him because of his presence during your recovery. You’re afraid of a man like him, and rightly so. Gale had said anytime you see him or the boss, it’s never for a good reason. You certainly hope that you won’t have to see him again. If anything, you’re going to see the aftermath of what befalls Yosuke as punishment for his transgressions.

“I suppose it’s time you earned your stripes,” mom had said in your dream (or, you suppose, in the office). Almost as if it’s a rite of passage to get in so much trouble with the man who could easily decide to end the doctors’ lives on a whim with his gun toting partner at his side. You’re not sure the boss would really want to throw away his employees with how important a role some of them seem to play in the facility. Certainly, that has to be the case with Mom and Lilah, whom you remember Yosuke mentioning got away with a lot. But if you’ve gathered anything from Monica’s emergence, you can safely assume he can afford to replace doctors if he so chooses.

You ask yourself: Is Monica a replacement for someone herself? Is she someone who’s been at the facility before? She seemed absolutely clueless about everything. You wouldn’t imagine someone who divulges information that openly or who’s that excited about things is someone who’s been in this hellhole doing awful things for very long. But, even if she seems nice, even if her demeanor isn’t at all a façade, you’re very certain she’ll change with time. She’s innocent, it appears. You’re not sure this is true, but you almost pity the woman if it is.

Almost.

She’s still a doctor. She’s still come here for a reason. Even if she isn’t here to fuck anyone right away, you know she will. Someone will be assigned to her, surely. Or, she’ll just mess around with anyone she likes for her own pleasure. You shudder to think what someone like her might be into. Mom is someone who gave off an air of sweetness and turned out to be such a monster. Monica could easily be the same way. You don’t know what to expect of her for now.

For the rest of the day, you finaly decide to look through a few of the books in the library, but find it difficult to really focus on them as you wonder how the other Numbers are doing. Is Eight a good teacher? Is he being patient with Five and Six? And what about the other two having their talk? Is Violet going to divulge what she knows she needs to with Cyrus? Is he going to take it well?

Every page you read feels as though you only scanned it with how much you ponder. Even so, you try as best you can to read through a story of a young girl fighting with a terminal illness. It’s something dramatic and only makes you sad. To think that people in the real world die of random diseases is awful. You wonder if you’ll ever live long enough to end up with something like it. From the way this book is written, it makes it sound like sickness is a huge part of the human experience. Is it a rite of passage to get sick this way? Is it just something everyone goes through? You’d hardly know with your knowable experience being limited to white walls, warm bodies, and sterile needles.

Is this living? Blue certainly seems to think so. She’s able to thrive in a place like this and turn misery into fun. Her promiscuous nature almost reminds you of Mom’s at times, but even she’s more grounded than that witch, for as floaty as she can be.

The day eventually ends, and it’s the light shaking of your shoulder that causes you to awaken from a brief slumber you hadn’t even realized you slipped into. Apparently, the pages of your book and the lulling black font weighed heavily on your eyes. Not once did you notice yourself falling into numbed state. Though, you’re sure you didn’t sleep for very long with how absolutely unrejuvenated you feel from your rest. Unfortunately, you’re groggy again with being awoken from your mini nap. And, to boot, you’re none too pleased to see Yosuke hovering above you. He smiles warmly as he catches your gaze.

“You didn’t come out for a while, so I got worried,” he tells you lowly. Gently he reaches down to pick you up, babying you again as he cradles you in his arms. “Come on. I should get you to bed.”

You look away solemnly and frown.

“Last time you said that, things didn’t exactly work out for me,” you mutter. Yosuke merely chuckles lightly. You can feel the vibrations of his voice resonating through his chest.

“My pet, I have no intentions of toying with you tonight,” he promises. “I’ve got a lot of work aboveground to catch up with. I’ll be staying there all night just to make up for my absence. But I’ve arranged a visit for you tomorrow, if you’re that eager for some play.”

“Don’t start with me,” you grumble in response, holding both your upper arms in each hand and embracing yourself. “And why so soon? I’m just recovering from a shot.”

“You’ve recovered, Ten,” Yosuke tells you in as-a-matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t be so difficult, now. Besides, it’s going to be with-“

Yosuke stops talking a moment when he turns around to ferry you away, halting his steps as he catches sight of Mom by the open entrance to the library. She’s leaning against the doorway, watching Yosuke intently with a smirk on her pink lips as ever.

“Why are you here?” Yosuke questions her firmly.

“To make sure you actually take her this time,” Mom answers with her usual lively and coy voice. “You understand why I’m a little wary of you, right?”

“I suppose,” is your doctor’s response as he walks toward the woman. “But I’m not going to repeat my mistake. Don’t be so dramatic, Mother.”

“Don’t want to have to compensate me again?” Mom teases. Yosuke glowers.

“I paid my dues with you for what I did. That’s enough,” he says sharply, pushing past the woman who merely glances at you as you pass her in Yosuke’s arms. She doesn’t bother to budge from her spot, merely turning herself around and watching as Yosuke ferries you away. You briefly glimpse Monica from inside the records office as you pass it, but she doesn’t appear to be looking at you and is instead fiddling with a few shelves closer to the entrance.

“There’s…a new doctor, right?” You ask Yosuke. He gives a light “mm-hm” noise as he carries you to your room.

“I’m assuming you ask because you met her. She’s been around, but only formally showed up while I was busy taking care of you,” he explains. “I suppose my superior was busy with her on top of all the other business he’s been dealing with. I wasn’t at all aware of it myself. But think nothing of it. She’ll fit right in after a while.”

“I’m not going to see her tomorrow, am I?”

Yosuke gives off a half-laugh.

“No, my dear. She’s not ready for visits just yet.”

You glance up at him with a cocked brow.

“Ready?” you question him. “What do you-“

“Hush, now,” Yosuke interrupts you. “Don’t overthink the things I say. I merely mean she’s not going to be having visits right away. She’s busy getting accustomed to things.”

You pout at this interruption, but suppose you won’t bother to fight against his word right now. Even if he says it means nothing, you’re still suspicious. You do recall Cyrus saying that the women at the facility were sterilized, so maybe that’s what he meant. But that’s hardly a big secret. Why would Yosuke want to keep that from you? Unless that’s not why he said what he did. You don’t know. Or…maybe you really are overthinking it.

Finally reaching your room, your doctor opens the door and enters through it. Once Yosuke’s made his way to your bed, he gently lowers you down upon it and tucks you in. You feel like a child letting him do this, but don’t want to give him a reason to tease you for fussing. Lav had mentioned strategically giving up. This is probably part of what she meant.

“Goodnight, my pet,” Yosuke murmurs, giving you a sweet, quick kiss before leaving you alone. “I’ll try to bring you to the hall tomorrow after your visit, but there’s a chance your visitor may have to do it for me depending on how tonight goes. I should see you at the end of the day, at least.”

You watch in silence as he makes his way toward your bedroom door, but find yourself calling out to him like last time. He stops a moment, one hand placed on the doorframe. He turns his head slightly toward you, expectant.

Unlike last time, you don’t really struggle to figure out what it is you want to ask. Seeing Yosuke’s back to you now has only reminded you of your dream, of Marcellus threatening to shoot him. It puts you off heavily. You’re sure Yosuke wouldn’t really be killed, but it still shakes you to think he could. What would happen to you then? You don’t know, and you’re not sure you want to know.

“What’s going to happen to you when your boss finds out what you did?” You ask, clutching the comforter’s cloth on either side of your thighs as you sit up. “I overheard you and Mom talking about Marcellus. You think he knows, don’t you?”

Yosuke frowns slightly.

“Overheard?” He inquires.

“I heard a lot of what you two said,” you admit. “I was asleep. Dreaming. But I could hear you clearly. I didn’t think any of it was real. But after what Mom said in the library, I’m sure it was.”

“I see,” is your doctor’s initial response as he turns his head back toward the door. “So you know what happened?”

You don’t really say anything, but Yosuke is able to gather the answer to his own question.

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Ten,” he finally answers your initial question. “But you don’t have much to worry about. He won’t hurt you. He will hurt me. I’ll manage.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond after this, promptly dropping his hand from the doorframe and exiting the room. The door shuts behind him, then locks shortly after.

With Yosuke now gone from the room, you exhale deeply and lay back in your bed. You’re not completely exhausted, but willing to sleep just to get away from today’s less than great events. For as nice as it had been to spend time with Lav and Cyrus, and to spend a bit of time alone, everything else was strange and confusing for you.

Laying on your side and pressing your head into your pillow helps to lull you back into a gradual slumber. You eventually forget about everything and let yourself go numb again.

Chapter 52: Visit Twenty Four - Adam

You rested well this time around, unburdened by too much grogginess like you have been the past few days. It’s likely you were still drugged given that Yosuke said you were going to have a visit, but you certainly feel much better now than before. Perhaps the last of the procedure’s effects has finally dwindled. Maybe now you can start feeling like yourself again.

You don’t immediately open your eyes, partially out of dread toward what might befall you now. You can gather you’re not on a bed, though. Whatever’s beneath you is sturdier; definitely padded and possibly coated in leather or some other similar material. You don’t much feel it on your hands which are lightly touching the thing, but you certainly feel the fabric brushing against the skin on your calves and arms. Again, you’re lying on your side. Your head is pressed into something that isn’t soft like the pillows you usually wake up on, but certainly isn’t super uncomfortable or hard to lean upon.

Finally opening your eyes, you see a white curtain somewhere a little bit ahead of you. The thing stretches a good few feet to the left and right, and it blocks your view of the rest of the room you’re in which makes it hard to distinguish where you might be. Certainly not the dungeon-esque room or your bedroom given the white in the area. But since you can’t quite gauge the size of the room with your view blocked off, you can only assume it’s either your main examination room, or the one room you’d been in with Jonathan, Nathaniel, and Gale.

The curtain before you is perpendicular to what you think is a wall on the left that you can’t entirely see while you’re laying down, and to a much shorter curtain on the right that you can more clearly see since it’s toward the direction of your feet. Both clothy things hang from silver metallic panels that look as if they can be wheeled away, so you’re left to assume they’re adjustable and mobile.

You glimpse a more saturated rosy color on your body than what you’re used to when you glance down to look at the rightmost curtain, and it’s then you realize that you’ve again been changed into something else. Sitting up, you look down at a rather frilly short gown, one with a wide hem and some kind of short petticoat underneath to keep it lightly fluffed your thighs. Your knees and calves, unfortunately, are fairly exposed. This dress is far shorter than the last one you wore, but you hardly want to remember that now. With good reason, you think.

The pinkish thing on your body has drooping short sleeves that wrap around your upper arms, just under your exposed shoulders. There’s some kind of unique, faint pattern of roses and leaves etched into the thinner layer of fabric of the skirt of the dress, but it’s fairly subtle. It’s admittedly not an awful garment, but again, you’re not exactly happy to see the thing when you know what its purpose is.

Most unusual for you is the addition of very light white gloves on your hands, and you realize that this is partly why you couldn’t feel the fabric of whatever you were laying on. Looking down at it, you now see that you’re in a grey chair that looks almost like a couch, but it only has a back and armrest angled upward on one half of it. The armrest is even elevated more than what you’ve usually seen, and you’re left to assume this particular chair isn’t for sitting in the way you would in most chairs.

You pick one hand up now, returning your attention to the silky looking garment on it. Have you ever worn something like this before? You don’t think so. This is almost as jarring to you as the first time you had shoes on. Though, you’re certainly not wearing any now.

“You doing okay?” A casual voice with an unfamiliar accent calls from somewhere behind and to the left of you, where you’d been unable to see while laying down. You almost jump at the sudden intrusion of your visitor’s voice, but do rise to your feet and turn around to face them. You half expect to see Jonathan again after knowing that he’d changed you for his visit last time, but instead you see Nathaniel.

Perhaps the two really think alike when it comes to the idea of costuming. Even Nathaniel is dressed differently now, but there’s more to his difference in appearance than you thought there’d be. He’s donning somewhat formal clothes like you, with black slacks, a deep blue vest, a red tie, and a white dress shirt with sleeves that end above his elbows. More strangely to you is that his hair is slicked to the side slightly. Though this change is miniscule, it makes a drastic difference in his appearance. Not only because it’s new to you, but because it almost makes him look like an entirely different person. His usually gentle and neutral expression is even morphed into one that’s livelier and more spirited. Right now, without even having to talk to him yet, you can see that Nathaniel isn’t currently who you knew him as. He’s playing a role beyond what you’re used to.

“N..athaniel?” You call out slowly, confused by the sight of him. The man leans himself against a countertop near a corner behind and to the left of the couch, one that juts out of the wall and doesn’t have any upper cabinets above it. Casually, your visitor starts pouring himself a bit of what you assume is wine into a spindly wine glass, only the liquid radiates a rich red color rather than appearing white and translucent. You eye the thing hesitantly, not precisely eager to see more alcohol in your presence after having two negative experiences with it.

After putting a deep green bottle back on the counter and bringing the wine glass to his lips, your visitor cocks a brow as he sips the red concoction.

“Nathaniel?” He questions. His voice is remarkably separated from what you’ve heard of him before. The accent isn’t all that heavy, but it’s one you recognize used by characters in some of the films you’ve watched with the others, one that sounds refined and clear. “That a friend of yours?”

This is too strange for you. You’d become accustomed to Jonathan and Nathaniel playing random roles, but not being far too different than who they usually are. This is, you think, Nathaniel attempting to portray a role that is absolutely beyond his normal self or even the lordly or regal self you’ve seen him as. It’s jarring, but you figure you have to play along anyway.

“My name’s Adam,” the man continues. He then laughs wilily. “I guess you’ve never met me. I did just sort of catch you passing out at the party. I figured I’d bring you here to rest a little since you seemed pretty out of sorts.”

You blink at him, utterly confused. The tone he’s using is so new and bizarre to you, yet he successfully pulls it off as if it’s second nature. Not only is this strange, but you’re not sure what he’s getting at with what he’s saying.

“Party?”

After another sip of his drink, Nathaniel—or Adam—gives a slight nod and continues to be chipper.

“Yeah, don’t you remember?” He asks, then twirls his wine around in the glass. “Some ball or something. I didn’t wanna go, but a couple of my friends dragged me out to it. But I guess it was pretty worth it since I ran into you.”

He chuckles lightly.

“I saw you hugging the wall for a while before deciding to go out on the floor. I’m assuming you got overwhelmed around so many people. You passed out quite quickly. You’re pretty shy about that stuff, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” you play along now that you’ve been made aware of what your visitor’s getting at. Though, you still don’t know much how to approach this.

“Have you got a name?”

Name? The question takes you by surprise. Is Adam letting you choose? You’re not really sure what to use. You’d hate to borrow someone else’s, and you absolutely refuse to use Rose again even if it’d be easier to. Though, you don’t feel comfortable taking too long to answer, so all you can muster is a sheepish “I don’t know”.

Adam laughs.

“I guess you’re really out of it,” he teases. “But that’s alright. We don’t have to use names.”

He then moves on from this and gestures his glass toward you slightly. “Well anyway, want a drink?”

You shake your head at the offer, thinking bitterly of Yosuke again. “No. I don’t really drink.”

“Fine by me,” Adam shrugs. You’re genuinely shocked he isn’t trying to force the wine onto you. You’d never been given much choice before, though you’re not about to complain about this now.

Adam then moves his head back to drink the last of the wine in his glass. He hadn’t poured very much, but he doesn’t waste much time in finishing what’s there. As he does so, you walk toward the longer curtain with the intent to pull it back or peek behind it if possible, but you stop your hand on its way toward the cloth when you suddenly hear soft piano music droning around the room. You try to move your head around to hear more clearly where it’s coming from, and even look up at first as if expecting it to have come from an intercom. After realizing that the sound isn’t above you, you’re finally able to gather it’s emanating from behind you.

On the counter by the corner, there’s some kind of flat, unfamiliar device that’s emitting the song you’re hearing. It’s not exactly loud, but certainly audible and at a good enough volume to be heard clearly. When you turn around fully, you see that Adam has placed his empty glass on the counter and stepped more toward you. Now, he reaches out his hand, offering it to you with a smile.

“Hey, maybe a private dance might help,” he says. “One without a bunch of people staring at you. Now that you seem to be feeling better, what do you say?”

His offer takes you aback. You begin to recall the dream you had with Mom and Yosuke dancing in the ballroom. It’s too odd. There’s no way Nathaniel would have known you dreamt of something like this—it has to be a coincidence. But it’s still jarring how convenient the timing is. You refuse the man again.

“N-no,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Well, you won’t know if you don’t try, right?” Adam laughs, giving a subtle cock of his head to the side. He moves forward and gently takes your hand in his. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Why did it have to be piano music? You don’t feel comfortable with this after what Yosuke did. You didn’t want to have to think of it, but now you have no choice. Did Nathaniel do this on purpose? He wouldn’t have known at all what your doctor pulled. Only Marcellus supposedly knew. Nathaniel might possibly know that Yosuke plays piano, but nothing else. It’s odd that he’d do this for you now. Then again, you figure he tries to be somewhat of a gentleman at times. You’re sure he’s the kind of man who tries to be that way, at least. But it’s hard to say anyone’s a gentleman here when they do what they do and are a part of what they are.

Adam pulls your body close to him, still holding one of your hands in his while you slip the other toward his shoulder and grab a hold of it to steady yourself.

“Just move your feet with mine,” he tells you softly, watching your face intently with his light brown eyes. Swiftly, he begins to move his feet about, swaying rhythmically with you. All you can do is follow him, but you find that it’s not super hard to do with how slowly he’s moving.

You don’t want to look Adam in the eye, but find that it’s unavoidable with how close to you he is. You can feel every bit of his body heat as he’s pressed against you. His closeness discomforts and flusters you all at once. Being held by him now makes your heart flutter and your face grow flushed.

The song is admittedly catchy and nice. You don’t think you’ve ever heard it, but you don’t dislike it at all, even for as much as the instrument being used strikes a negative chord with you because of the association of it with your doctor. Strangely, you find it easy to follow along with the music and Adam’s movements, perfectly moving along the floor with him in the bit of the open space surrounded by the wall, counter, curtain, and couch.

Eventually, the music’s tempo begins to pick up, and so do Adam’s steps. A few times, he lets you go to twirl you around, but you don’t much struggle with this either. After a few separations, he holds both your hands and moves with you along the floor. He doesn’t try to lead you into too drastic a dance with the limited space you’re in and with your inexperience, though you start to almost find what you’re able to do fun. Even if you know this is still a visit, you do want to keep doing this. You hadn’t expected to follow Adam’s movements with how clumsy and slow you’ve sometimes been. You hadn’t even expected to enjoy it so much.

The song soon ends with Adam again holding you close by your waist, his hands returned to the position they started with. By now, his chest and yours are rising and falling as the both of you catch your breath. His, you find, wafts lightly into your face with a tinge of sweetness to it since he’s just had his wine.

“You’re a natural,” Adam grins. “You’d have been lovely on the dance floor.”

You say nothing as you continue to breathe, but notice that Adam’s eyes fixate warmly on you as he remains silent a moment. After a brief pause, he closes his eyes and leans in to kiss you. His lips taste as sweet as the wine he drank, and they’re warm against yours. You look away blushing as he kisses you, but don’t bother to fight back against the motion. After a brief locking of his lips against yours, Adam pulls away and smiles.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he says warmly, giving a light breath as he opens his eyes again. He then frowns slightly when he catches sight of your red face and hesitant state. “Hey, you look a bit flustered. You wanna sit down?”

Still blushing wildly, you merely nod and let the man guide you to the strange couch you woke up on. Rather than lay upon it, you sit on the edge of it, your knees bent and pressed firmly together, and your feet pressed firmly into the floor. As always when you’re not sure what to do with your hands, you curl them in your lap and stare at the floor while awaiting your visitor’s next words. You’re no good at playing a part on your own. You admittedly need the guidance.

“You’re some dancer, you know,” Adam compliments you kindly with a cheeky smile. “You’re just shy as hell.”

“A little,” you respond to him, partially in character, but partially telling a truth. But your shyness isn’t necessarily out of nowhere. You’re not really that fond of expressing yourself around anyone but your friends. And even then, it takes a little while for you to get into things willingly.

When you continue to stare at the ground, Adam kneels down, pressing both his hands on your knees to steady himself. Rather than make you look at him, he tries to get himself in your line of sight by reaching your level. You find that his face is again met with yours as he bends down to try peeking up at you coyly. When you merely blink in response, the man laughs aloud as if amused by you.

“You doing okay?” He questions. “Honestly, you’re a regular wallflower. But it’s kind of cute, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m just confused,” you tell him, not sure how to really bounce off of this. Again, you look away, still feeling a bit flustered by Adam’s closeness. The man merely smiles.

“Well, I can help you feel a little better,” he leads you on. “Want me to show you how?”

You wonder whether you can get away with dragging this out to avoid what you know is coming, so you respond, “I don’t know…”

Adam cocks his head again and playfully starts to lift your skirt up.

“Hey, trust me on this, alright?” He urges you gently. “Just lay back and let me take care of it. I promise, it’ll feel really good. You won’t be too shy after this, I hope.”

You keep your legs shut and try to pull your skirt down, denying Adam’s advances.

“I’m not sure about this,” you tell him more straightforwardly, again trying to drag this out. Adam doesn’t seem upset by this, his sly and chipper state unshaken by your denial. He merely stays still a moment, looking at you before moving in for a quick kiss. This takes you by surprise since you had been avoiding looking at the wily man.

“Just lay back,” Adam insists again, gently taking your wrists and moving your hands away to your sides. “I’ll take care of everything you need. I’ve done this before.”

“Do you do this to all the girls you meet?” You lower your brows, wary. Adam smirks.

“Hey, we’re focusing on you right now, right?” He deflects this question. “Come on. Live a little. Enjoy it. Lots of girls would kill for this kind of treatment.”

With your hands at your sides now, Adam releases your wrists and places one of his hands back on your left knee. With his other hand, he playfully grabs the end of your chin with his thumb and index finger, looking up at you with his light brown eyes.

“Besides, we danced pretty nicely together just now,” he goes on, his tone playful and lively, but his voice low and lulling. “We make a pretty good team, hm?”

You again look away as you feel the man’s fingers slip off your chin and again curl around your other knee. Supposing that you’ll have to give in eventually, you decide to indulge Adam and let him start moving your skirt up. Playfully, he parts your legs and stares eagerly with a smirk as your body is opened up to him. Feeling nervous, you curl your fingers around the edge of the couch and watch with a fluttering heart as your puckish visitor gives a light chuckle and moves in to tease your body from behind your panties with the tip of his warm tongue.

Adam seems to have no trouble finding your clit from behind the cloth and begins to tongue and suck lightly at it, making you wince. You can feel the skin of his cheeks and stray strands of his hair brushing against your thighs as he toys with you. The warmth of his hands keeps your knees spread apart, and you can do no more than bear the sensation of his tongue poking through your panties.

Adam giggles slightly as he pulls away, then looks up at you with a light smirk upon his lips.

“Shall I remove these for you?” He questions with a playful tone. You say nothing, but look away and nod, still clutching the edge of the sofa cushion tightly. Adam wastes no time after this, moving both his hands toward the topmost portion of your underwear and lightly tugging at them. You lay back against the angled backrest on your side of the couch to make it easier for him to do, but otherwise stay still. Once Adam has successfully tugged the garment off, he again moves to your thighs to eagerly spread them. Again, he chuckles when he sees the bare flesh around your crotch.

“Now, just relax, love,” he murmurs as he moves in again to start tonguing playfully at your clit. He gives a few throated chuckles as he tongues you, pleased by your light moans and gasps as he takes you. Admittedly, you can’t help but react this way to his tongue, but you realize now that this is the first time you’ve ever gotten to feel it. Like Jonathan, he remains ever affixed to pleasuring your clit, not once removing his tongue from it. His motions are difficult to predict as he insists on working you with a playful demeanor.

As you press your head back against the couch and whimper pleasurably, Adam looks up at you with a glint in his eyes as if entertained by your reaction to him. He watches you closely as he tongues at you, playfully laughing into you and changing his speed whenever you start to react more eagerly to him. He uses a variety of different motions, testing each one to see what makes you tick. Flicking, lapping, gently sucking, and circling your clit eagerly, he eventually causes you to hunch over and grip his shoulders as your toes begin to curl.

You can’t bear being toyed with much longer, and you grunt and moan lightly as Adam continues to lick and lap at you. After a while of your tonguing torment, you feel Adam’s hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against his face as you remain hunched over and gripping the cloth on his back and shoulders. Unable to get away, you moan desperately into the man’s ears as you let yourself go, finally coming in his face as you can’t take the pleasurable sensations of his tongue any longer.

You cry lustily into the air, instinctively and eagerly grinding your body against Adam’s face while you finish up, feeling too good to restrain yourself now. Your visitor merely laughs devilishly as he continues to lap up the wetness between your legs, letting you ride out your orgasm until you finally settle down.

Once you’re done, you sit back against the couch and let yourself suck in a bit of air. Adam pulls away from your crotch, dropping his hands from your waist. He then gives a light breath of air before grinning at you.

“You were delicious,” he compliments with satisfaction in his voice. “Did you enjoy that?”

You blush, but aren’t sure how to respond. It feels wrong to say yes outright to a question like that from a doctor. Instead, you choose not to answer with words or a gesture. Adam takes no offense to this either, merely cocking a grin.

“Still a bit shy, are we?” He questions, trailing the back of his hand along your inner thigh. “Perhaps you’d like to go a bit further?”

“What do you mean?” You ask him in response, continuing to play your role. Adam rises to his feet then and offers his hand to you, which you hesitantly take. Gently, he helps you rise and pulls your body close to his.

“In order for me to show you that, I’ll need you to get out of that dress,” he tells you slyly. Holding your torso against his, he takes his hand and slowly starts to unzip the back of your garment, but you push him away before he can make much progress.

“I’m not sure about this,” you tell the man. It’s starting to become easier to act the way you’re expected to. You suppose it comes from experience.

Adam merely smiles and takes your hand, raising it to his lips. Playfully and with his eyes fixated on you, he nips at the tip of the glove’s middle finger and pulls the thing off before letting it fall to the floor. You merely watch with a red face as he does this, but are taken aback when he pulls you toward him again.

“Come on,” he urges wilily. “I’ll make you feel just as good as before. I made sure you were alright didn’t I? And nobody’s around to see us. Why not take a chance?”

You again feel him moving his hand to unzip your dress, but he holds you tightly against him so that you can’t protest this time.

“Adam!” You gasp lightly. “W-wait!”

“Don’t worry,” he lightly laughs. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

In moments, your back is fully exposed, and you can feel the cold air of the room hitting against your skin there. Once his task is done, Adam pulls away from you slightly and watches your face with a knowing smile as he trails his hands along your shoulders, moving them down your arms while pulling your dress off. You feel genuinely embarrassed to be doing this now, but stand there and look away with your red face as Adam undresses you sweetly. Before long, you’re standing naked before him. He takes your other hand and pulls the glove off with his own hand this time, but continues to watch you.

“You look lovely,” he compliments as he drops the last of your outfit to the floor. “Breathtaking. Why be so shy with a pretty body like yours?”

“I…” You aren’t sure how to respond and merely look down. Adam chuckles and gives you another quick kiss, then leads you toward the couch again. Rather than sit you upon it, he’s the one who sits down, his legs lightly spreading. You hesitantly watch him as he undoes the button and zipper of his pants and exposes himself to you. Still with a coy smile, he motions you over with his finger.

“Come have a seat, love,” he invites you. When he notices you hesitating, he adds, “It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”

You at first think he means for you to climb atop him, but Adam insists that you turn around and face away from him. You hesitate at first, but he lifts you up by your waist and gently carries you toward him. Carefully, he positions you atop him so that his cock, lightly wet with precum, begins to slowly slip into your pussy. He takes great care to make sure you’re comfortable, gauging your reactions to his entry so that he knows you’re not being hurt. You merely grunt as you take the length of his shaft inside you. Adam doesn’t lower you so quickly, but rather takes his time so that you can adjust to him slowly. Once he’s managed to fully enter you, Adam leans your body back against his, holding you close to him as he places your head to his right so that he’s leaning into your left ear.

One of his arms is wrapped around your torso, hugging just under your breasts and lifting them slightly. You instinctively grab onto his forearm with one hand for support, while the other curls its fingers into the couch cushion as you endure the feeling of Adam’s cock inside of you.

“You feel so tight,” he murmurs as he holds you, his breath hitting your cheek and neck. “You’re perfect.”

Your legs are now fully spread as you lean against Adam, and you can feel the warmth of his body all along your backside. You feel strange like this, being held from behind while sitting with the man’s phallus inside of you.

“Now, I’ll need you to lead this dance,” Adam croons. “Move your body. I’ll guide you.”

He chuckles as you hesitate again, still accustoming yourself to being in this position. Gently, the man runs his hand along your right outer thigh.

“Come now,” he urges. “It’ll be alright. Give it a try.”

You close your eyes and blush heavily at the feeling of his coy voice resonating in your ear. He purrs so sweetly as he speaks to you that his words send shivers down your spine. Without much of an option, you force yourself to move your hips, your feet only barely touching the floor enough for you to make the necessary movements. You whimper lightly as Adam chuckles at your sheepishness. With a playful hand, he moves one of his free fingers toward your clit and begins to toy with it while you work his cock from where you are.

“That’s it,” he whispers lovingly as you move yourself against him. “Good girl.”

He gives your neck a few kisses as you lean against him, and the sensation of this combined with the feeling of his finger against your clit and his cock sliding in and out of you with each roll of your hips makes you moan desperately. Adam gives a few light breaths of his own as your movements against his body arouse him. He bites your earlobe, teasing you playfully as you ride him, and making you whimper more in response.

Despite tightening your pussy around Adam’s cock when he entered you, it becomes much easier to take him now after a little while longer of bouncing and rolling against him. Your noises become more pronounced as you grind against him and as he teases your clit. You’re being made to work for your own pleasure in this position even with Adam’s touching, licking, and nipping of you, but it feels good enough for you to keep at it.

You find yourself leaning more and more against your visitor as he holds and stimulates you, as you bounce and move upon him with your pleasure rising. Both of you let out a series of breathy pants and grunts as you engage in your “dance”.

“Keep going…” Adam breathes words of encouragement in your ear. “And go a little faster. I want to see those beautiful breasts of yours move about as you ride me.”

So wrapped up in your own pleasure, you oblige the man’s request without much issue and pick up your pace as you roll your hips around. Your moans become even louder the more lustful you become, much to Adam’s pleasure as he becomes even more vocal himself. He lightly moves the arm holding your chest so that he’s able to reach one of your breasts, and he toys with the thing in his hand as he’s ridden by you. The other bobs around slightly as you move your body, and Adam watches it and the rest of your naked body intently as he toys with you.

“I’m about to come,” he gasps. Shockingly, your visitor is able to maintain his accent despite the aroused state that you expect would distract him. Hearing these words in that accent, however, makes them sound even more sensual than usual. Adam’s playful tone is now utterly sultry as his pleasure is at its peak. You’re nearly there yourself.

You give a few more groans and heavy breaths as both you and Adam move in unison together, and not long after he’s announced it, Adam finally lets go. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you, followed by a gushing spurt of cum that coats the walls of your pussy and fills you with a familiar warmth. Adam gives a series of boyish gasps and moans as he spurts his load inside of you, holding you tightly to make sure you take every bit of it.

The feeling of his semen inside you only triggers your own bodily response, and you continue to desperately buck against the man and roll your hips around as your lower body trembles with pleasure. You lean even further into Adam, tilting your head back and giving a loud, lusty cry as your body pleasurably responds to all its stimulation.

After a while, both you and Adam settle down, and you stay with him inside you as you try recovering from your orgasm. Enraptured by your pleasured reaction to him, the man kisses your cheek and grins.

“See?” He coos. “There’s no need to be shy with me. You dance beautifully.”

“I feel weird,” you breathe in response, expressing a partial truth. This position in particular was so new to you. Odd, even if pleasurable. Adam merely frowns lightly.

“Weird and not good?” He asks. “Well that won’t do, will it? Perhaps we should keep going. Let’s try a different position, then.”

“I can’t get up,” you admit in embarrassment. You’re too settled on the man at the moment, and feel uncomfortable knowing that wetness will pool out of you if you try rising. Adam does not bother to bat an eye at this and merely laughs before grabbing your waist and gently pulling you up. You feel his cock slide out of your pussy as you’re lifted, and soon, you’re helped to your feet. As expected, both yours and Adam’s juices drip down your leg the moment you’re standing, and you try to shut your legs tightly to keep the wetness from straying too far, not wanting to feel it go past your thighs.

Adam rises next, and you quietly turn to face him. He lightly swipes at and nudges your chin with his thumb and index finger, still smiling slyly.

“On your knees next, love,” he lightly commands. “I’ll cure that shyness yet, little wallflower.”

“N-no, Adam. Isn’t that enough?” you hesitate, playing up your role. “We shouldn’t even be doing this to begin with. I didn’t even want to.”

“Shall I throw you down and have my way with you then?” Adam cocks a grin as he asks this bluntly. You don’t have much a chance to react before he grabs your wrist and pulls you close to him again, making you lightly gasp.

“I won’t hurt you,” Adam assures you. “But I’ve already come this far with you, wallflower. It’s too late for me to stop now. I’ve been sweet with you so far. I made sure you were okay and safe. I even went out of my way to treat you like a gentleman. All I ask is a little compensation in return.”

“…How many girls have you done this to?” You question, finally catching onto his character. You wince as Adam’s grip on your wrist tightens. “Is this just a sport for you? Leading shy and insecure girls on just so that they’ll sleep with you? You’re just a playboy, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you want to feel special?” Adam deflects your question, moving close enough to your face for you to feel his hot breath and smell its sweetness again. “You’re evidently the type of girl who doesn’t get attention like this. You want it more than you’re willing to admit. I can give it to you. I can make you feel special even if just for one night. All you have to do is cooperate.”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” you tell him. Adam smiles and runs the back of his free hand along your cheek.

“Don’t give me that,” he responds. “You had no trouble with it just now, after all. It felt good, didn’t it? You let me undress you, you let me eat you out, and you willingly rode me when I asked you to. Evidently, you want this.”

“Why me?” You question with distress in your voice. “There are plenty of girls who’d like someone like you. You could have your pick of the litter.”

“When I set my eyes on a girl like you, I don’t let her go until I’ve had my fun with her,” Adam admits with grin. “I picked you out because you made it so easy, and you gave me the perfect opportunity to make my move. But you should be flattered I chose you. I don’t just go for any girl who swoons at me. It’d be too easy if I did.”

You pause a moment and watch Adam as he stares calmly but intently at you. Not wanting to give the man a reason to be rough with you, you finally give into him and mumble a quick and defeated, “okay”. He doesn’t much react to this, seeming to have expected your surrender.

“Good girl,” he coos in response. “On your knees then.”

You glance at the couch worriedly, but do as told and get on your knees along the thing, parting your wetted legs to Adam as he stands behind you. He watches you intently as you get into position for him, but doesn’t make a move right away. Rather, he observes you with interest.

You lean your torso against the elevated armrest, and hug the end of the couch in anticipation of being pushed into again by Adam’s cock.

“Your pussy’s still a little milky,” the wily man teases from behind you, walking over to where you are now and trailing a few fingers along your slit. “You’re really wet now with my cum and yours. Are you sure you still want to act shy?”

“Please don’t say that,” you beg lightly, though this partly does come from you rather than just your character. “It’s embarrassing.”

“There’s no need to be so hesitant now,” Adam chuckles, trailing his hand sweetly down your back and making you shiver. He rounds the curvature of your butt as he reaches it before dropping his hand. “Focus on the pleasure, love. You’ll enjoy it much more that way.”

You feel Adam climb atop the couch with you, on his knees. He shuffles lightly to pull his pants fully down before moving in to straddle you. Hunching over, he leans into your ear and laughs breathily.

“Now, now,” he murmurs. “Stay still while I push my way in, alright?”

You say nothing, but aren’t given much of a chance to anyway as Adam warmly grips your hips to keep you in place while he slowly begins to push the head of his cock through your sullied entrance. You groan slightly as you feel the wet flesh of his shaft push through into you, sliding past the walls of your vagina until he’s fully inside of you. Even with how wet you are, you still wrap around him involuntarily in response to the feeling of being penetrated.

“Good,” Adam breathes, giving your head a quick kiss. “I’m going to move around now.”

He straightens his back up again as he focuses on taking your body for his own gain. Still holding fast onto your hips, Adam starts to pull his back slowly. Once he’s out far enough as he can be without pulling out of you entirely, he thrusts himself forcefully against you, making you yelp as you grip the elevated armrest as tightly as possible. Adam finds this amusing and gives a playful chuckle before repeating his motion. After a few more slow thrusts, he finally begins to steady his pace, pumping his cock in and out of you unapologetically. Your breasts start to bob back and forth with each wet pounding, and you let out a series of light moans with every motion.

“Do you like that?” He coyly questions between his panting breaths. “I hear you mewling so preciously. You do like this attention, don’t you?”

He laughs as he thrusts into you a bit forcefully again, making you gasp.

“Your pretty little pussy is squelching quite loud, love,” he chuckles. “You’re as wet as can be.”

Adam continues to thrust eagerly into you, making you grunt and groan as your head presses against both your arms and the armrest. You pant heavily into the fabric of the chair and tightly curl your fingers against it as you’re taken. You’ve not been in a position like this in a while, but Adam works you in such a way that it’s genuinely starting to feel good.

He gives off a few throated grunts and breaths of his own as he pumps his cock in and out of you with strong thrusts, and each pounding into you results in loud, wet noises that fill the air.

Adam laughs aloud between his panting.

“You’re moaning so loudly,” he observes. “Little wallflowers like you do make such beautiful noises. Do you want to come soon?”

You refuse to tell him yes with how good you’re starting to feel. For some reason, his voice is hypnotic to you, lulling you into a higher state of arousal. Every teasing word he says flows sweetly into your ears, even when his words are filthy.

“Come on, now,” Adam tries to coax you. “If you don’t tell me when you want it, I can’t do anything for you, can I?”

He breathes out heavily with a bit of a cheeky laugh.

“So tell me you want to come, then. I want to hear you beg for it.”

“That’s…not…fair!” You grunt between each thrust, still tightly gripping the armrest. Adam merely laughs again.

“I’m not going to give you what you want until you tell me you want it,” he tells you. “You want my cum? You’ll have to ask me nicely.”

He stops pumping into you a moment, his break forcing you to recover from your heightened pleasure. Much to your dismay since you had been so close to coming, Adam pulls completely out of you. However, he immediately grabs your shoulders and turns you on your back. He steadies one hand on the back rest of the chair, while the other wraps possessively around one of your wrists and keeps it steady against the cushion.

Your head is now against the armrest of the couch, while your legs are spread out and slightly hanging off the edges of the cushion. Adam fixates his light brown eyes on your face and watches with a sly smile as you suck in breath through your mouth. You glare back at him, still with your face red and your chest rising and falling steadily.

Adam wastes no time pushing his cock into you again, making you lightly gasp as you feel it pressing through the walls of your vagina once more. You press your head firmly against the armrest of the couch as you’re taken again, though Adam doesn’t start thrusting against you like before. Instead, he grinds his body sensually against yours while leaning himself in until his lips are hovering over the right side of your head.

“Beg,” he breathes into your ear, urging you sweetly. “Beg for me, wallflower. I want to see your face and hear your pretty little moans when you finally give in.”

You feel the man’s crotch rubbing against your vulva as he moves his body against yours, his warmth pressed against every inch of your skin as he stays atop you. With his weight holding you down, you can’t get away from him.

Adam kisses your cheek, lingering a bit and pulling back slowly as he sucks lightly at your skin. He moans as he takes you, making you blush and whimper. The pleasure that had lightly ebbed when he pulled out of you now returns as you feel Adam rubbing against your clit and moving his cock around inside of you

“I can’t take this…” you breathe, shutting your eyes as you’re held and sweetly thrust against. “Adam…”

Your visitor merely chuckles through his throat as he hovers atop you, watching your face intently. You open your eyes again when you feel the man’s hand gently guide your chin so that you’re forced to face him. Hesitating, you do as he expects.

“Please,” you beg. “I…I want to come.”

Adam chuckles again and leans into your ear.

“Wrap your arms around me then,” he murmurs. You hesitate, but do as told and hold the man tightly while you lay there. He begins to pump his cock forcefully into you now, still grinding you eagerly as you grip Adam with your hands. Your fingers press firmly into the cloth on his back as your face presses warmly against his shoulder. Adam pants and moans into your ear as he fucks you, smirking all the while at your submission to him.

He continues to move his body away and against yours, using a variety of motions in search of what will make you react more strongly. Once he finds one that makes your moans and cries louder, he grins and begins to focus solely on repeating it to drive you wild.

“I’m almost there,” he breathes after a while of pumping his cock inside of you. “Come with me, love.”

As he continues to thrust into you, you begin to whimper and loudly whine from your throat, making desperate cries into the air. Your pleasure is nearly at its peak, and your entire body is warm. Soon, you feel yourself ready to let go.

“Adam…” You loudly moan as the man’s cock begins to pulse inside of you. He merely gives a loud grunt as he starts to pump you with cum, spurting his warm, creamy load into your pussy. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you close and tight against him while he continues to grind himself on top of you, making sure every drop of his semen spills into your body.

You throw your head back and cry loudly as you’re come into, rolling your hips slightly against the man’s crotch as your body explodes with pleasure. Adam watches your face intently with a smirk on his lips, and refuses to let go of you until both he and you stop coming. Though, you can’t help but hold tightly onto him as he rides you anyway with how good he feels. Even if you don’t want to admit it, you’re sure he knows.

Both of your pleasures finally subside, and you find yourself letting your limbs slip off of Adam as you lay breathless on the couch with one hand at your side, and the other pressed back against the cushion, its palm up and its fingers lightly curled in a resting position.

Adam smiles handsomely at you as he watches you breathe in recovery.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He questions coyly. “I could hear how good it made you feel. You’re not shy now, that’s for sure.”

You say nothing and look away as the man playfully nudges your chin with his thumb and index finger pressed together. Once he’s finished with you, Adam gives your lips a quick peck with his own, the sweetness from before still lingering in his taste.

“Thanks for the lay,” he says with a kind of slick casual tone to his voice. “It was fun.”

Slowly, he pulls out of your wet pussy and lets his cum dribble out of you slightly, watching triumphantly as it does. He doesn’t much say anything else though, leaving you naked and messy on the couch while he pulls up his pants and closes them. You’re not exhausted, but certainly can’t bring yourself to move right now after just being used. As you lay there and recover, Adam leaves you and again retreats to the corner by the counter. You don’t see him, but do hear him shuffling about. You close your eyes a moment and try to recuperate after your visit, but are eventually surprised by the feeling of cloth lightly being rested on your body.

When you open your eyes again, you see Nathaniel hovering over you, having placed your dress on top of you. He’s still dressed like Adam, minus the vest which he seems to have removed. But you can tell by his calmer expression that he’s returned to his old self.

“Is it over?” You ask him, seeking confirmation of this. Nathaniel nods.

“You played your role well,” he compliments you in his usual suave demeanor, his accented tone now gone. You hate to admit it to yourself, but you’ll miss it a little. “I didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly. But you seem to be getting the hang of things now. That’s why I brought out an entirely different character rather than just acting as I usually do with a different skin. I thought it might be time to ease you into that sort of thing.”

“You think I like being fucked by eccentric playboys?” You question bitterly, sitting yourself up and swinging your legs over the couch now. You feel slippery between your legs, but you can’t much help it now.

“I think you like to be surprised and taken advantage of,” Nathaniel politely corrects you “Granted, nothing we do is going to be your choice, but you respond greatest to situations you can’t exactly control, and to men who treat you like you’re special, despite acting as though like you dislike it. I’m assuming you bring it up because of your previous visit with Jonathan. He’d mentioned some things he talked to you about.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. You’re almost insulted by his straightforward analysis and assumption of you. Nathaniel subtly smiles and takes a seat beside you, but says nothing just yet. You merely hug your dress closer to your body to cover as much of yourself as possible. You’re still wet and warm from being used.

“Where is he, anyway?”

“Aloof,” is the man’s only response. “He wanted to try something on his own today, so we took separate visits. We’re together quite often, but not all the time. Same with people like Jude and Sven, I suppose. Although they’re not quite like we are.”

He turns his head toward you.

“Was Adam a bit much for you?” He asks. “It’s a character I use here and there.”

“It was weird, that’s all,” you answer honestly with a light shake of your head. It’s strangely not as difficult to talk to Nathaniel as others, but you’re still a bit put off by having a conversation with him now. Jonathan had mentioned both he and Nathaniel tend to want to talk to who they visit from time to time. You’re assuming he’s not busy enough to put you out so quickly.

“I wasn’t expecting an accent or for you to try acting like someone entirely different.”

“I’ve always been fond of accents like that,” Nathaniel smiles to himself. “I used to surround myself in literature and media with characters using similar vocal tones. When I was still in my theater days, I even trained a bit to get the voice right. I don’t suppose you know what Shakespeare is, but I studied that extensively when I was younger. Strangely, a lot of media depictions of such stories relished in accented performances, whether or not they were needed.”

“If I’ve heard of it, I don’t remember,” you respond to his other statement bluntly. “I don’t read much anyway.”

“Literature is enriching,” Nathaniel tells you with a light frown. “I’ve always favored English works myself. Jonathan was always fascinated by the Greeks and Romans. But I suppose you wouldn’t know much about that either.”

“No.” This conversation is starting to make you feel stupid. You hardly know anything of other territories, much less where you are now. There’s really no culture in a place like this, and you can hardly bring yourself to think of what culture might even be like when you have no idea what anything is. You’re familiar with the concept of Greek and the concept of English in that it’s not hard to distinguish the two as different, but you simultaneously don’t know what really defines these things. It’s frustrating. Though, it’s not exactly your fault that you’re like this. At least you know that much.

You don’t really have much else to say, and Nathaniel can see how discomforted you are being here with him. He exhales slightly and stares at you with his light brown eyes.

“Ten,” he speaks up. “I did come here for a visit, truly. Your doctor figured it’d be best to ease you back into this sort of thing after your procedure and didn’t want anything too rough, so I asked if I could take you. But I did also want to see you personally.”

You raise a brow and glance over at the man.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you without seeming conspicuous by approaching you elsewhere,” Nathaniel admits. “Your doctor’s not going to be able to bring you to the hall today with how busy he is, and I don’t have much work to do myself. So, I’ll be the one taking that responsibility. That gives us more than enough time to talk.”

Nathaniel angles his body more toward you now to face you better. “Do you remember what happened after your injection? At all?”

You’re surprised that he actually wants to have a conversation with you. Granted, his wanting to see you still has a selfish motive no matter what, but you’re not used to this sort of thing. Most doctors just have their way with you, then leave. Besides, everything that had happened with you has already been pretty established. Nathaniel and Yosuke had to have already discussed it, and you hardly have answers to anything yourself. Why bother with this?

“A little,” you answer the blond man. “It all felt surreal, but I remember waking up to you, Marcellus, and that nurse.”

You look down.

“Yosuke said I wasn’t supposed to be awake. You thought so too. I have no idea why it might have happened other than that sometimes I’ve had trouble with drugs. The anesthetic, for instance. But I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know or that you weren’t already told. So I don’t understand the need for you to pry about it.”

“I have my reasons,” Nathaniel tells you bluntly. “I only want to ask how you felt when it happened, and if there’s anything you might be able to remember that’s out of the ordinary. I only want you to help put my mind at ease about it, because I feel as though Doctor Marcellus waived it off far too readily when I know he’s a meticulous person when it comes to his work as a doctor. He’d have documented this and studied its cause extensively from the moment he learned of it.”

This surprises you, but you’re not convinced you can be of any help to solving this strange problem.

“There’s nothing to it,” you say sharply. “I was just tired and didn’t even want to move. Anything else I saw I don’t exactly remember. Why are you so concerned about it anyway?”

“Curiosity, I suppose,” Nathaniel lightly shrugs as he finally decides to indulge you. “I am a little worried for you as well.”

You scoff, insulted by this phony statement.

“That’s a lie. You doctors don’t care about us, even when you try to be nice. You don’t care what happens to us.”

Nathaniel lightly lowers his brows.

“That’s a rather bold assumption,” he says lowly. “I can understand your hatred toward us. Really, I can. But some doctors do have some attachment to the guests here. They can be kind if they choose to be.”

“Attachment? What, like the kind Mom has?” You condescendingly shoot out with a scowl. “Don’t act like you care when even you were straightforward about abusing and raping me. Even if you want to be nice, you’re not.”

“Shall I treat you like the others do?” Your visitor cocks his head slightly, though he asks you this with a calm tone.

“You already did by using me just now. If you really wanted to be nice, you wouldn’t have arranged a normal visit,” you continue to criticize the man. “If you really wanted to talk to me, you would have just done so.”

“I do still have my needs, Ten,” Nathaniel brushes this off. “I enjoy my visits with everyone. I try to make others feel good as much as I try to make myself feel good. As does Jonathan. Don’t act as if you didn’t enjoy some of the things we’ve done. You always play your role just as we expect.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” you continue to retort sharply. “And I can’t really help how I react. Feeling good with your touch doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. I only oblige you because the consequence of the alternative scares me.”

Nathaniel does not at all appear offended by your outburst, remaining ever-calm and sitting pleasantly on the long chair with you as if nothing’s wrong. When he speaks again, even his voice remains neutral.

“Ten, I had a Number before this,” he explains, much to your confusion. “One I oversaw alongside Three, and whom I’d been overseeing before Three ever arrived. I cared for them the way I do all Numbers I meet with. I still had to be firm at times, but I did make sure they felt good too. They left us a long while ago. I wasn’t so devastated by the loss that I stopped being able to function normally, but it did leave me feeling quite a bit guilty, even if the cause of their death had nothing to do with me.”

You glance again at the man with a lowered brow. You silently ponder who he might be referring to. On one hand, he mentioned death, so maybe it’s one of the Numbers Cyrus spoke of. But on the other hand, he may have been speaking of a death even your knowledgeable friend doesn’t know of because he didn’t witness it.

“Why…are you telling me this?” you question. “Aren’t you not supposed to?”

“No, I’m not,” Nathaniel answers truthfully. “But Marcellus and, by extension, my superior are already upset with me for questioning what I did when you woke up. They dislike rule breaking. Equally so, they dislike questions of their word. I don’t usually make them, so I don’t imagine it would hurt to add onto the men’s displeasure toward my mildly concerning behavior even with a light mention of a previous Number, though I won’t intentionally make it worse by elaborating more on them. With how hardly drastic my behavior’s been, I may just be watched closely until my boss and his lackey have no reason to suspect me of anything.”

He glances at you, focused.

“In any case, I bring my previous Number up because I want you to understand that you do have meaning to me. All of you. I would hate to see you or your friends hurt. I didn’t much like losing people before either. Granted, I am acutely aware of how I have to be while I’m here. I know how things are done, and I have willed myself to be a part of this. I won’t deny that it’s an ugly practice, nor will I say that my hands are clean. Jonathan and I both have little grievances here and there, but we overlook them and continue to enjoy ourselves. I really do love what I do, just as much as your doctor does. The good makes up for the bad, always. And, so long as Jonathan is happy, so am I.

“That said, you’re mistaken about me. I don’t need to be as crude and unruly as others tend to. I can choose how I want to be in certain moments. If I really didn’t care, I’d be openly and needlessly rough with you. I wouldn’t even try to accommodate myself to your own pleasure when I visit you. I am very capable of being cruel. You don’t have to stop and think about it. You know I can easily overpower you, force myself upon you, hurt you. I merely choose to make you sing and be sweet with you where I can unless my role demands unruliness or force.”

You wince slightly, thinking of Yosuke again. He’d mentioned something similar, that he could hurt you but chooses not to. He acted as if you should be grateful for his kinder treatment. It doesn’t exactly assuage you to hear the same sentiment from Nathaniel, even if it’s true that he’s been less cruel to you at times.

He lightly laughs, shaking you out of your own thoughts a moment.

“Forgive me for being so wordy,” he apologizes casually. “It’s a bit of a habit. Though, this is the first time you and I have gotten to talk so openly if memory serves. I’ve been a bit talkative with a few other Numbers as well, like your chattier friend, Four. She has quite an infatuation with Jonathan and I. Even my own Number doesn’t talk much with me.”

You don’t respond to him this time, merely staring at the floor while you continue to hug your rosy garment close to your body. You aren’t much surprised Four would be chatty with her favorite doctors, but you wonder why Three doesn’t like her own doctor when he seems to act as if he tries to be understanding and gentle.

After another lengthy silence, Nathaniel figures you’re not going to bother adding to the topic at hand. He instead continues to speak on his own.

“So, you don’t much remember anything then?” He questions as he refocuses the topic back to what he’d intended to talk to you about. You shake your head.

“No. I did keep waking up during my recovery, but that’s really it,” you tell him honestly, finally responding to the man. When you look over at Nathaniel again, he appears to be lost in some thought of his own. You hesitate to talk to him openly, but do call his name and make him look at you.

“…Were you worried I was going to die?” You ask. “I remember you being worried about how much of the anesthetic Marcellus was giving me.”

Nathaniel merely stares at you a moment without saying anything, but eventually nods.

“The dose he gave you was very high,” he says openly. “We have a limit to how much we can give you, but I hadn’t known that the limit we’ve been given isn’t lethal and only found out when he said so. Now I wonder what the limit even is. Though, I’d imagine there’s a reason we don’t know. Not everyone here is exactly…stable enough not to use that information for their own reasons.”

“You mean Mom, don’t you?”

Nathaniel closes his eyes a moment. “Maman is probably a very special case. But I do mean her as well as others. She’s capable of letting her temper get to her, while other doctors here have the capacity for horrid things without reason. I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of who.”

Both of you fall silent a moment, and you lightly shudder at the idea of any one of the doctors being a genuine murderer. You’re sure Milos and Lilah would be the kind to kill someone if they wanted to. Cyrus had mentioned that the doctors were less careful before, after all.

Nathaniel eventually re-opens his eyes and rises from the chair. He moves back to the counter by the corner, facing away from you.

“Do get yourself dressed, Ten,” he politely requests. “I still have to clean you and change myself, but I’m sure you’d rather not go out there naked.”

You blush hearing this as your embarrassment rises, but are simultaneously shocked that he’s letting you dress yourself, and even more surprised he doesn’t appear to have any intentions of knocking you unconscious. While Nathaniel’s back remains turned, you face him to make sure it stays that way while you put your dress back on. You don’t like that you have to wear it again, but you remind yourself it’s only for now until you can get back into your gown.

Curiously, you watch as Nathaniel’s hand hovers over the device he played music from earlier. He slips the thing into his back pocket rather quickly, so you don’t get the chance to see it more clearly. Though, you can’t help but ask about it as you try to zip the back of your dress back up.

“What is that?” You question. “The thing you played music from earlier?”

Nathaniel doesn’t bother to turn around, instead pouring himself just a little more wine while he speaks in response.

“Don’t pay any mind to it,” he says lightly. “It’s an electronic device, that’s all. I’d recommend against mentioning it to anyone.”

“Why…?” You struggle to pull up the back zipper as you say this, bouncing subtly up and down in an attempt to get the thing to move, but failing. Nathaniel places the green wine bottle on the counter again and swishes his glass around before taking light swig from it, rather than a small sip.

“I shouldn’t have it at all,” he answers you bluntly. “My superior doesn’t much like us bringing things like this down here without checking it first. It’s paranoia, or perhaps precaution. If he notices, he’ll probably confiscate or even destroy it. But I sometimes go the extra mile to make visits more special. In this case, I did it for you. I’ve always liked dancing and music as much as anything else I enjoy. I’ve been to a few fine parties before, so I thought I’d bring the experience into my role. Just for a bit of fun.”

He finally turns and stares calmly at you. “It wouldn’t much have been a real dance without music, would it have?”

Nathaniel pauses a moment as he sees you struggling with your dress. He gives a subtle smile and moves toward you now.

“Let me help,” he offers, handing you his glass so that he can go behind you to pull the zipper up. You hold the fragile thing in your hand, feeling a bit nervous with its familiar shape against your fingers. Though, you also find yourself rather flustered feeling Nathaniel’s breath on your neck as he concentrates on helping close your dress for you. He’s even standing close enough for you to sense his body heat again, much to your embarrassment.

“You can taste it if you like,” he tells you gently, leaning into your ear. You gasp at the sudden closeness of his voice, but refuse the man’s offer.

“I said I don’t drink,” you remind him. “I was being sincere about that. It wasn’t just in character.”

“Because of Milos, I presume?”

You look down at the glass in your hand and lightly scowl as you remember Yosuke again.

“Yes,” you somewhat lie. Milos is a large part of it, but not the only one anymore. You’ve no reason to avoid divulging what happened, but don’t really feel like bringing anything up about what you experienced with your doctor.

“He’s a rather stalwart man,” Nathaniel tells you. “But he knows what he can do and that he can take advantage of anyone here if he so likes with his physique. For some reason, he sometimes chooses to grace us with a certain level of respect. Not always, but often. He’s overstepped his bounds with us only on occasion, but certainly has more often with our guests, as you’ve experienced.”

“Would you say he’s ‘not so bad’ like Gale does?” You scoff. Nathaniel gives a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but he doesn’t quite get the noise out.

“Gale sees various qualities in others that aren’t always immediately apparent,” is his response. “They are more capable of sympathy and understanding in that way. I personally don’t much like Milos when he gets rough. Nobody really does except perhaps Maman and Lilah who don’t much mind it. But he’s tolerable most times. I’ve let him see my Number once or twice out of his insistence, but I prefer she not visit with him much with her fragile state. Yosuke seems to be the same way with you, though he’s become far more adamant about keeping you away from him.”

You look down. Yosuke had tried to shelter you from Milos. Even that hulking, awful man said so. But you’re capable of discussing what you went through, capable of thinking about it without panicking too badly. Three couldn’t do that if Milos hurt her the way he hurt you. She’d break. At least Nathaniel isn’t mean enough to just throw the girl to whomever he likes all the time. Curiously, you ask him,

“…Does Three dislike you?”

“Somewhat,” the man behind you says. Once Nathaniel’s done helping you zip up, he moves forward and takes his glass back. You watch as he politely slips the rest of what he served himself into his mouth, tipping the glass high to finish its contents. After emptying the thing, Nathaniel moves to put the glass next to the bottle on the counter.

“She doesn’t much talk with me,” he goes on. “She sometimes fears me. Gale suggests it’s just by association because of my role here. As you think I’m no different than any doctor here, perhaps she thinks the same. She’s always been frightened of us. Hesitant. I do my best to help her while still using her as I like. Jonathan and I even play kinder and gentler roles just for her. But I’ve noticed she really only responds to her brother. When she was new here, she even used to beg for him when the stress of what we do overwhelmed her. I suppose I can’t blame that. They’re related, after all. There’s a closeness siblinghood brings to the table that even Jonathan and I wouldn’t know for as close as we have been ourselves.”

“They seem to really like acting on their own,” you mention, looking down. “Not to the same extent as you, but it’s strange they like any form of it at all. I assumed it was because of you, but I don’t understand why they do it when they seem to hate you and Jonathan so much.”

“Likely in an attempt to take control of it,” Nathaniel suggests with a light shrug. “Though they’ve had no trouble bouncing off of us the way other Numbers sometimes struggle to. Three doesn’t much enjoy it, but playing a role sometimes helps her get through her misery.

“Both siblings have seemingly always been fascinated by theatrics, if they don’t have the same knowledge on the subject as Jonathan and I do, and don’t much bother to study it extensively. Two, I find, has always tried to hold his head high even in the face of embarrassment and frustration. He can remain chipper even through the difficulty he faces in dealing with Jonathan. Three’s heart, on the other hand, is full of sadness, and it’s evidently a struggle for her to perform without reflecting this. The both of them are so fascinating. Like comedy and tragedy. Thalia and Melpomene. Sock and buskin.”

Nathaniel lightly smiles to himself, though you’re not sure why when none of these words make sense to you and therefore are devoid of any meaning to you.

“It’s poetic, I think,” he muses, pleased by the thought. “A matching pair, a complete set. Perhaps they were brought here specifically for us. I’m ever grateful if so. Jonathan and I do love the twins. Even for as resistant and spiteful as they are towards us. We don’t pair them together solely as a favor to them, to preserve the sanctity of their reliance on one another. But we do love them individually.”

It’s odd to hear this from Nathaniel. Even Jonathan had never much talked about the twins. Your visitor doesn’t exactly speak so disgustingly of them the way others have spoken of their Numbers, rather expressing a strange attachment to who they are as people in much the same way that Gale spoke of their own Number. But his fondness for the two still doesn’t settle well with you all the same.

“Well, I suppose that’s enough babbling for now,” Nathaniel cuts the conversation short. “It’s best we get you out now. I’d raise suspicion by being in here with you for much too long. And I’m sure you’d like to clean yourself off.”

He then heads back toward and past you to wheel away the curtain structure in front of the couch. To your surprise when you turn around, the white bed you’d been on during your visit with Nathaniel, Jonathan, and Gale is revealed.

Despite having figured that you were in this room, you’re still shocked that you were taken here given that Yosuke had said this area was for multi-person visits. Though, maybe different kinds of furniture are stored here as well. Seeing the room now, you notice other curtains blocking off other parts of it too. You assume there’s different sections with different kinds of beds and chairs. It’s a much larger room than you anticipated, in fact. You recall not really getting a good look at the place previously with everything going on at the time and with the large bed being where it was. You couldn’t much process your surroundings then.

Nathaniel extends his hand out and offers you to take it so that he can lead you out, although you can’t help but wonder if it’s his attempt at a gesture of peace. You merely stare at it a moment. His gesture, even if well-intended, only reminds you of Yosuke. Seeing Nathaniel offer you his hand as Adam was different, but this is more sincere coming from himself. The last time you took your doctor’s hand after he used and hurt you, it didn’t really end well. In fairness, you're certain accepting Nathaniel’s hand wouldn’t be you making a similar mistake when he doesn’t seem to have an ulterior motive to manipulate you the way your doctor does. Even so, you still hesitate out of habit.

You remain silent in your contemplation, but Nathaniel strangely says nothing, nor does he rush your decision. You don’t want to trust him, but even he’s showing you more kindness in small ways that your doctor never bothered to. He let you dress yourself, he let you decide not to drink, and he’s indulged most all your questions without holding back or hushing you. He hasn’t much treated you like an incapable child. You’re genuinely grateful for it even If you’ll never admit it to him.

You can’t ever trust or forgive a doctor for being who they are in this place. But, for the moment, you decide to take Nathaniel’s gentle hand and let him lead you politely onward. He gives a light smile at your decision, and with everything now over, Nathaniel heads to the door with you and brings you out into the hall.

Chapter 53: Rest Twenty Five - Communication

It’s been a long time since you were able to walk away from a visit conscious. You can’t really recall a time you didn’t wake up to your doctor hovering over your body unless you were waking up in the rec room or garden.

Now, you’re in the shower, letting the water fall upon your head and run down your naked body. You glance at the soaps again and don’t feel inclined to use them now that you have a choice, but simultaneously suppose you’re not going to be getting any more visits today if your doctor’s busy. You at least opt to use a small amount of soap just to get rid of the overall nasty feeling you were left with after your visit.

While you bathe yourself, Nathaniel’s changing his clothes by the front of the shower area. You were surprised that he let you clean yourself, so accustomed to being overseen and “cared” for by your doctor. When you asked your temporary caretaker why he was letting you do this in your jarred reaction to it, Nathaniel had merely said, “I figured you might prefer it that way”.

You wonder if he lets Three do things on her own as well. If he does, is it because he wants to win her trust? If he’s so “nice”, you aren’t sure why the girl doesn’t much respond to him. Surely, you can understand that no amount of kindness is compensation enough for what the doctors do here, but nobody else really seems to have trouble adjusting to it all. Even you, for as sheepish and frightened and weak as you can be, somehow manage not to crumble as easily as her. But you’d hate to assume that such a trait somehow makes you better. You know it’s rough and you’ve been made aware of the variety of reactions to this place. Still, you’re shocked that even after overcoming so much grief and misery, after enduring it for so long, Three persists in her sheepish state.

Could you end up that way yourself? You still bark back at a few doctors, but recall yourself reacting with fear and hesitance in much the same way as the girl when you were with other doctors. Even now, even after all the things you’ve gone through and come to accept, you admit that it’d still be difficult for you to face someone like Milos again. You still reel from your experience with him, even if a touch more subtly than before. You don’t like people grabbing your neck, you don’t like the smell of alcohol, and you shiver and shake in the man’s presence even when there are others around to ensure he won’t hurt you.

You shut your eyes a moment and try to push the memory of his visit away. It was stupid of you to bring it up at all, but you can’t help but let your mind wander a lot of the time. Your brain talks, even if it doesn’t have much to go off of beyond the collective of experiences you’ve had here at the facility.

Sighing and opening your eyes again, you reach up to shut the water off and start trying to get rid of the excess water in your hair. Once ready, you grab the towel Nathaniel left out for you and start to dry yourself. Even this little bit of freedom to take care of yourself in a basic way is supremely satisfying.

Once done, you head over to the shower entrance to find Nathaniel tying his familiar white tie back around the neck of his mulberry shirt. He’s returned to his usual outfit by now, and is currently working on combing his hair back into its familiar shape.

On the bench by the entrance, you notice a neatly folded pile of clothes Nathaniel used to play his character, with a fresh gown somewhere beside it. You work toward dressing yourself again once you catch sight of the rosy thing. It embarrasses you to have to do this in front of your visitor, but he seems more preoccupied with his own grooming to really bother watching you. Now that he’s no longer overseeing your visit, he seems less focused on you in general, in fact. Or at least, he isn’t hovering over you incessantly the way your own doctor usually does.

Once you’ve managed to slip into your fresh gown, you sit upon the bench and watch as Nathaniel continues to work his hair. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any of the men groom themselves so much, no less alongside you in the showers.

You’re no fan of the awkward silence between the both of you. As you sit, you place your hands in your lap and begin to speak.

“Did you ever want to be an actor?” You ask the man. Nathaniel, who had closed his eyes as he concentrated on combing his gelled hair out, now opens them and stares at you.

“I did once,” he admits, still working the ends of his hair with the comb. “I can’t recall clearly when my interest in it started, but it definitely peaked as a teenager. I though acting was something I wanted to do professionally, until I found out that it wasn’t.”

“Why?” You question curiously, lowering a brow. That doesn’t sound in character for him, especially for how much he’d spoken positively of theater and literature. Nathaniel gives a bit of a half-laugh in response to your statement.

“The thing about performance arts,” he begins, “is that you have to dedicate almost your entire life to the craft if you want to master it and make it big. I loved acting. I studied the stage, its history, its stories all so intensely. But I didn’t want to end up letting the hardships of the thing I loved break me enough to make me stop loving it. You may never know being stuck here, but artists suffer to be as good as they are, even to the point of burnout, to a point where they stop enjoying the very thing they wanted to make the center of their entire lives. I wanted no part in that. I wanted to indulge in it for my own love of the craft, not for competition, prizes, or even fame. I found out very quickly how difficult it was and decided to stick to it as a hobby, not a career.”

You wonder if the same could apply to someone like Eight. He certainly was already very adept at the violin. You don’t know how old he is, but he’s evidently someone who’s practiced it a long time, even before coming to the facility. Was he expecting to master the instrument when he got older? Was he expected to by someone in his family, presuming he had any?

“Why medicine?” you ask further, refocusing your attention on the conversation at hand. “And why bring Jonathan with you?”

“Jonathan was never much of an actor,” is the suave Nathaniel’s response. He lightly smiles to himself at some personal memory. “I was the star, he was the stagehand. It wasn’t until much later that I encouraged him to give acting more of a try and taught him myself. He’s always followed me, really.

“But I only chose the medical field as a fallback to the acting. I had family who anticipated a more reputable career for me. So, when I finally agreed to study as a doctor, they were quite delighted. Jonathan only followed because he’d become so attached to me. He was good at certain sects of science in grade school, so he had no trouble easing into his studies. He’s been by my side for a long time.”

Finally, Nathaniel finishes reshaping his hair the way it usually is. If anything, it looks stiffer than usual with whatever he used to slick it back to begin with still lingering upon his head, but it’s otherwise the same as you remember it. You’re almost astonished the man was able to groom himself without a mirror present.

“Jonathan and I chose similar fields,” Nathaniel goes on. “And we worked closely together at a reputable clinic for a while before eventually being brought here. I think it could have been anyone, really. But since we were a matched set, not unlike your twin friends, perhaps it was easier to take us rather than seek out two separate doctors.”

You look down.

“Yosuke had said he knew your boss as a different man aboveground.” You mention. “Before coming here, I mean. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel nods. “He’s capable of acting friendly, of putting on a mask that doesn’t suit the type of man he really is. I wasn’t much fooled by his performance initially, but Jonathan, so inexperienced, was until I made it clear to him that the man was lying to us by pretending to be who he wasn’t. Actors often have the job of fooling their audience into thinking they’re somebody else. But it’s difficult to fool the one who fools.”

The idea of the boss smiling and being friendly, even as a façade, strikes you is strange. You’ve only met him once, but you can only picture his stern and cold expression. One that makes you uneasy even as the mere image of it comes to mind. To imagine him smiling and laughing is almost impossible. You are curious whether his “friendly” mask is like Marcellus’, where it only comes across as ominous and frightening even if it’s inviting at face value. A kind of mask that’s harrowing, disturbing.

“Even so, we indulged the man,” Nathaniel continues, interrupting your thoughts. You find it odd how open he is about his personal life whereas Jonathan divulged only basic things. Then again, you didn’t much have time to talk extensively with him then. Not as much as you are with his partner now.

“He made us a wealthy offer and so we took it blindly. Even in my wariness of him, I took the bait. Living comfortably is expensive, you see. Perhaps the decision to accept was our own crux, but we learned to love it here fairly quickly. And we do take care of our guests. I could say it’s sympathy, but I know you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” is your only blunt response.

You don’t much know what else to say after this as you mull Nathaniel’s words over. It’s perhaps fitting that he and his partner are equally as inseparable as their Numbers. It’s jarring for you to hear the man reminisce about his life in such a humanistic way when he’s, by action, an awful person. He’s treating it like some fond remembrance, like some older man looking back on his youth as he peacefully sits in his chair thinking of the life he’s lead. But Nathaniel is evidently younger and has hardly cultivated a good life for himself. Even if it’s financially stable, it’s morally bankrupt. He’s aware of it. You wouldn’t really consider that worthy of pride.

Nathaniel uses the break in conversation to cut it off, and places a hand gently on your shoulder. Even if you have more questions, you don’t have the time to bring them up now.

“Come on,” he urges you gently, his voice lulling. “It’s best we head out now.”

Shaking away your thoughts, you follow Nathaniel to the hall, trailing behind him quietly as he leads you. You mainly stare at the floor as you walk, watching each foot step before the other in succession before you hear a voice call out Nathaniel’s name from somewhere behind you.

Nathaniel seems surprised to hear anyone calling him, as he promptly stops and turns his body slightly with a raised eyebrow, observing whoever’s behind the both of you. You follow his lead, turning completely around and pouting as you catch sight of Jude lightly jogging toward the both of you with a few papers in his hand.

“Glad I caught you,” he says as he approaches you and Nathaniel, giving a few light pants as he catches his breath from running over. He hands the man the papers in his hand. “Hey, I need a favor. Drop this off for me at the office, won’t you? I gotta see the big guy about something and I’m already pretty behind schedule. You know how impatient he is.”

Shockingly, the man doesn’t once bother to address you despite knowing you’re there. He appears completely focused on his own affairs.

“Isn’t Sven helping you?” Nathaniel raises a brow as he willingly takes the pages between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re not supposed to be this overwhelmed.”

“Ah, the man’s doing his own thing,” Jude scoffs. “Left me to work while he went off to play. I don’t have time to argue with him over it. And I absolutely don’t have time to chat up with Mum. If she catches me, she’s gonna want to strike up a conversation for a while. She’s been a bit clingy lately and I have no idea why. You’re free after this, right?”

“I am,” is Nathaniel’s blunt response. “Lucky for you, it seems. I’ll get these to her, no problem. But you owe me for making me take the hit for you.”

Jude laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you a consolation gift basket or something.”

“Château Lafite this time, not a box of cigars. I still haven’t touched the things.”

“So give ‘em to the boss as a present,” Jude answers back with a shrug. “Breaking his own damn rules just because he owns the place.”

“He doesn’t much like surprises,” Nathaniel frowns at the jesting suggestion, even if he’s aware it’s a joke. With nothing much to add to this, Jude finally glances at you with his light blue eyes and smirks.

“Hey pretty girl, where’s Yosuke at?” He finally addresses you. “Off working himself to death again?”

“He’s busy,” you mutter, looking away. Even though you felt lightly offended by being ignored, the attention from Jude now is discomforting. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him if you recall. But you don’t really have any good memories of the man, even for as few of them as there are. You’ve only known him during visits, so this is probably one of the first times you’ve seen him outside of your examination room. He’s not acting too different than what you remember, minus being a creep about your body as he would during a visit.

“Oh?” Jude lightly cocks his head as he stares down at you, grinning knowingly. Though he’s still looking at you, he then turns his attention partially to Nathaniel. “Not surprising. That guy’s addicted to his job. Don’t know how he does it. I’m pining for a goddamn break myself. Next time Milos offers a night out, I’m taking it.”

The mention of Milos makes you uneasy, but you continue to say nothing and observe the interaction between doctors. You feel like a child clinging to a parent while they discuss something with another parent every time you have to do this.

Jude starts to walk past you and Nathaniel now, but turns around after passing the both of you. He walks backwards and slowly so that he can make a few last comments to Nathaniel, and points lightly at the man as he moves back.

“Hey, if you see Sven, tell him I’ll kick his ass for leaving me in the dust,” he calls out jokingly. “He owes me for covering him.”

To your confusion, Nathaniel calls back to the man what you presume to be a sendoff in another language, laughing slightly as he does and following it up with a light, “I’ll pass on the message.”

You watch as Jude turns back around and moves down the hall, though Nathaniel slowly follows in that direction while still leading you along with the papers in his hand. You can see from afar that Jude, with his quickened pace, reaches one of the doors near the end of the hall and inputs his code to open it. Though, he disappears from sight fairly quickly.

He seems to have gone to the rightmost hall, where workers, Marcellus, and his boss have emerged from before. You shudder lightly to think of them again, remembering what partook in that corridor a while back. You’re still quite shaken by it, but with all the other things going on, you’ve been comfortably distracted from the memory of witnessing Jay’s murder. Remembering it now only causes your heart to sink and your stomach to churl, but you try to suck it up as best you can.

While following closely behind Nathaniel, you ask him a question in an attempt to distract from your own thoughts.

“Are you and Jude friends?”

Nathaniel shakes his head as he walks. “More acquaintances. He and Sven are friends. They think alike, they work together, and they understand one another, if occasionally having little spats. Jude and I have had our moments, but not nearly enough to be close. Only Jonathan and perhaps Gale are people I’d consider friends.”

You’re not much surprised by this answer. Nathaniel and Jonathan do seem quite attached to one another, and everything you learned of the pair from each one of them individually has only served to strengthen this idea. Their banter with Gale, even from the small bit you heard, did also seem quite friendly and more natural than it would have been were the three not at least a little close. It’s always odd to you to hear casual banter between doctors, though. Your perspective of them is tainted by their more heinous acts.

Both you and Nathaniel eventually reach the records office, and you glance over at him as he gives a few polite but audible knocks on the countertop of the lower half of the open door. In a few moments, Mom emerges, her light green eyes filled with joy as they catch sight of the suave, mulberry-shirted doctor before her.

“Nathaniel!” She chirps, greeting him happily as she clasps her hands together and holds them close to her upper chest. “I was wondering where you were this morning since I missed you earlier. I guess now I know.”

Still with her lively pink smile, she flickers her eyes toward you.

“And where’s your doctor, little girl?”

“You know Yosuke, Maman,” Nathaniel answers for you with a polite smile, much to your surprise. “He’s off doing his work.”

“Am I to assume he’s not going to show until later?” Mom cocks her head just barely. “Honestly, I’m starting to think he’s trying to get away from me. Sending you in his place and all.”

“Is this perhaps a lover’s quarrel?” Nathaniel lightly teases, making Mom giggle.

“Oh, no!” she casually answers the man. “Yosuke’s much too focused on his own matters to bother with me anymore.”

You’re certain this isn’t the case given the two’s recent conversation. Maybe the woman’s just trying to be cheeky about it. After she says this, Mom unclasps her hands and brings one to her cheek, then glances up at Nathaniel with a sweet smile, adding, “So you know, I do have a bit more free time.”

Despite her attachment to Yosuke, you’re surprised she’s willing to fool around with anyone right now. Though, maybe she’s so starved for attention that she’s seeking others out too. She had briefly mentioned sleeping around with other people to get her way in college when you were aware enough to hear her speaking with Yosuke in your dream, so it shouldn’t much surprise you that she’s repeating her old ways now. Though, you don’t think there’s a motive in this other than “being wanted”. After all, her hands are still healing. There’s not much she can do without someone to help her. If Yosuke won’t, then maybe she’ll take anyone. Just for now.

However, Nathaniel remains unreceptive to the woman’s advances and hands her the papers he’s been holding. Mom frowns, and you can see a sharp look in her eye. She’s evidently frustrated, but doesn’t seem to want to make a scene. Yosuke had said she hates rejection, but you also know the woman is adamant about keeping up appearances as best she can too.

Mom huffs lightly and takes both sheets in her still-stitched hands and looks them over for a minute. She then lowers a brow and looks back up at Nathaniel.

“This is Jude’s handiwork,” she accurately observes without needing to give it a second thought. She shifts one paper behind the other as she glimpses its contents. “Isn’t he supposed to be the one delivering this?”

“He caught me in the hall and asked me to deliver it for him. He seemed like he was in a hurry to see you-know-who.”

“Maybe even he was avoiding me,” Mom frowns a moment and drops her eyes down in thought, but immediately picks up her usual chipper attitude and smiles again. She drops the papers to her side and looks at Nathaniel once more. “I’ll deal with it as soon as possible.”

Before anyone can say anything more, Monica emerges from the right of the door somewhere behind Mom, with a large binder in her hands. You watch as she peeks over the woman’s shoulder curiously at you and Nathaniel, giving a wide close-lipped smile as she catches sight of you both. Shoving the binder on, you think, a shelf to the right of the door from where you’re standing, Monica moves closer to Mom and calls out a cheery “hello!” from behind her. In her lack of attentiveness to anything but you and Nathaniel, Monica’s sudden greeting makes Mom almost jump slightly. Her typically chipper attitude does not seem to shake away, but you can tell she’s not at all pleased to have the brown-haired doctor intrude on her conversation by the way her face just subtly tenses up.

Nathaniel glances up at Monica and gives a light smile.

“It’s good to see you again,” he greets her politely. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been fine these days,” Monica answers him kindly. “Just busy working with Mamita. She’s been training me.”

“Yes, it seems no matter how many times I tell her what to do , she always forgets,” Mom jabs at her with a falsely sweet tone. She crosses her arms. “And no matter how much grueling work I give her, she does it all with a smile. It’s cute, really.”

The blonde woman turns her head toward Monica and just subtly frowns again.

“Speaking of which, weren’t you supposed to be reorganizing some of the lab reports?”

“I’ve finished already, Mamita,” Monica answers happily, her sweetness unscathed by anything Mom throws at her.

Mom sighs lightly and bends her arm up to pass the papers in her hand behind her, to Monica. The chipper woman gladly takes the things, but eyes them in confusion.

“Then file these,” Mom orders her sharply. “And open the gate, for God’s sake. In case you haven’t noticed, we have a drop-off.”

Monica then glances up at you with her brown eyes and smiles warmly, but doesn’t much say anything to you. As ordered, she gives Nathaniel a polite goodbye and heads back into the office to do as told. Meanwhile, Mom focuses again on Nathaniel and smirks.

“You aren’t busy, are you?” She coyly questions, her tenseness gone away with Monica’s departure. “If I recall, you’re not scheduled for much today.”

“I’m not, but I don’t intend to stick around after my pickup later either,” Nathaniel answers her. “I have things I need to take care of.”

“With Jonathan?” Mom raises a brow, her cheeky smile unwavering. “He hadn’t mentioned anything about it this morning.”

Nathaniel merely chuckles lightly. “We are inseparable, it seems. I was actually planning on surprising him with tickets to a show he likes once we’re done for the day. It’s been a while since we’ve had that much free time, so I figured I’d do him a favor.”

The gate to your right suddenly opens, though you find yourself jumping slightly at the noise after having remained focused on the conversation between doctors. You glance over at the empty hall, but don’t move right away.

“Lucky you,” Mom smirks. “But who would wanna leave this place anyway? It’s so fun.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Nathaniel remains ever polite despite his apparent disagreement. He doesn’t much appear bothered by Mom’s statement, in fact he’s able to remain straight-faced to most things he’s told, almost like your own doctor at times. You’re a little jealous that he’s able to remain calm around a woman like Mom.

Nathaniel then turns to you, not much acknowledging Mom’s comment further.

“Ten, I’ll see you another time,” he sends you off with a light touch of your shoulder. “Your doctor will come back to get you tonight, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried at all,” you mutter, though do feel worry about what might happen to your doctor when he does get punished for what he did. Your pitiful attempt at sounding self-assured only makes Mom laugh.

“Little girl, you and I both know that’s a lie,” she teases you. Your heart jumps slightly as she says this. It’s irrational to say she knows, but your mind wanders to your eagerness to protect Yosuke in your dream. She couldn’t possibly read you that way. No, she’s just making fun of you in general, surely. She’s aware of what your doctor did and that he’s going to get in trouble sooner or later. You have a lot of reasons to be worried. What will happen if he’s put out of commission? Who will watch over you? Will that give Mom or anyone else another reason to mess with you like before?

“Now go on,” Mom’s smooth voice interrupts your thoughts. “Leave the grownups to have their chat.”

You pout at the woman, but give a quick “Yes, Mom,” and move away from the two doctors. Quietly, you make your way down the hall. Not sure where to go, but not wanting to linger, you pick the closest doors you can and end up entering the cafeteria. Nobody is really around, but you don’t really decide to leave. Being here, you figure it’s a good idea to try eating something on your own while you can.

When you head to the counter, you hover your hands over it just slightly and hesitate to really call the worker behind the pane. You’re still a bit sheepish about approaching and talking to someone you can’t even see, even if you know that person won’t hurt you and is, in fact, even a bit like you. Both of you are prisoners, after all. Though, you wonder if the workers think ill of you Numbers since they often have to deal with you like slaves. Clean up after you, help you, bring you things, wait on you. They’re the same as you, yet they get treated slightly worse, it seems. If anything, Mom’s treatment of the one worker you saw attests to that.

A tray gets shoved through the opening over the counter, the slick sliding noise against the surface of it only making you jump as you’re shaken from your thoughts. You’re not sure how long you’ve stood there, but are embarrassed at the self-awareness of your quiet lingering. At least the worker knew before you had the chance to ask that you wanted food.

On the tray is a small plate of greens topped with some kind of pinkish cut of fish that you’ve not yet encountered before. It smells a bit citrusy, so you assume the dish has been flavored with something like lemon.

Strangely, there’s a rather tiny bowl on the side with rice inside of it, but there’s something drawn atop the flat top of the stuff in some kind of brown sauce. It’s just a small face, with two dots and a curved line to indicate a smile. You look at the thing in awe, not sure what to make of this. Curiously, you glance at the pane before you and talk into the thing, addressing the person behind it.

“Did…you draw that?”

A napkin and fork slide through the opening next, but you’re not sure if that’s any indication of a “yes” or “no”. You instead say nothing and take your food back to one of the nearby tables, though face away from the counter to avoid the discomforting idea of potentially being stared at by the cafeteria worker.

You should be happy that he’s probably just being nice, but something about the uncertainty only makes you nervous. Still, you wonder if anyone’s ever bothered trying to communicate with the guy outside of just asking for things. Surely they have, but you don’t peg him as the type to really talk. None of the workers seem to, anyway. Either because they physically can’t, or because they’re not allowed to communicate with you. Though, the former as an option genuinely scares you. You’d prefer not to think about the possibility of workers being forcibly silenced somehow.

After pecking and nibbling at your dish quietly for a while, you eventually get fed up with yourself and decide to try talking to the worker after all. Your curiosity at his decision to communicate with you by drawing a face into your food, and your desire to get over your unease at the worker overrides your hesitance to deal with them. Once you’ve finished eating, you return your tray to the counter, and after it’s taken away, you make your move.

“Um…excuse me,” you call out to the worker. There’s no real indication of him actually still being in front of you, but you still try to talk to him nonetheless. “Why did you draw that for me?”

You, naturally, don’t receive much of a response. But the worker does shove a small, wrapped piece of what you assume is candy through the slit after a while, as if to indicate he’s there and has heard you. You look down at the white-papered thing with confusion, but simultaneously, frustration.

“There’s gotta be a way to do this,” you say to yourself with a low voice. After contemplating it a moment, you perk up with an idea and raise your hands before you slightly, motioning to the worker.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” You call out. Evidently the worker can’t respond, but you slowly back up to indicate that you’re leaving. Once you’ve done this enough, you turn fully around and run out of the cafeteria. By now, the hall has been emptied, with Nathaniel long gone, and both women overseeing the office having retreated back to it. With nothing to bother you on your way across the hall, you head toward the crafts room as quickly as you can in hopes of grabbing something from there. Unexpectedly, you’re met with Blue, scribbling away on a paper at one of the tables. She’s alone, but focused on her work enough to where it doesn’t seem to bother her.

Blue looks up when she hears the doors open, turning her head toward you and giving a chipper smile upon catching your face.

“Hey, Ten!” She greets happily as you make your way onward to some of the nearby shelves. She then frowns slightly as she watches you. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for stuff,” you tell her briefly, as if that wasn’t entirely obvious. You’re a bit too focused now to bother with being wordy. Blue merely lowers a brow, but decides not to ask you questions about it.

“Well, I won’t pry if you don’t want me to I guess,” she says, turning back to her work and penciling a few more lines onto it. “But if you’re looking for paper, it’s on the second shelf.”

Taking her word, you scour the mentioned area and find both a pencil and a sheet of blank, white paper. Taking both things now, you turn toward Blue and stop a moment as you try to catch sight of what she’s doing.

“Uh, thanks,” you say as you step slowly closer. “What are you up to?”

Blue senses that you’re hovering over her shoulder, and before you can get a good look at her art, she covers it up hurriedly.

“Hey, I’m not done yet!” She cries out. “It’s still a work in progress.”

“I’ve never known you to be shy about your work before,” you tease with a light smile. “Anyway, have you been here long?”

“Kinda, actually,” is Blue’s quick response as she looks up while pondering this. “My doctor was busy today and I didn’t have a visit scheduled, so I’ve just been here drawing.”

“Anyone else around?”

Blue shrugs. “I don’t know. I saw Cyrus and the twins around, but nobody else really. I think I heard someone in the gym too, so maybe Lav’s around. But I’m pretty sure Cyrus is doing his weird meditation stuff and the twins are off doing whatever the hell they do.”

“Oh, I guess they would be here, huh,” you muse. “I had a visit with Three’s doctor today. I also did see yours in the hall. He sounded all…buddy-buddy with Nathaniel, even though I was told they’re not really friends.”

“Jude’s a way more casual guy than you might think,” Blue shrugs. “He’s nice to everyone except in bed where he gets to be more aggressive if he wants to. He’s really only close to Sven from what I know, but they’re not like, a thing, you know?”

“I didn’t ask,” you pout. “But they don’t strike me as the type.”

“They’re not. But Nathaniel and Jonathan sure are,” Blue giggles. “At least, they can be, even though they still like girls. You know, you’re really lucky Nathaniel saw you today. I haven’t seen him in a while personally, but I always love our visits.”

“Yeah…he told me you talk to him a lot,” you mention with an almost negative tone, though Blue seems to remain ever-chipper.

“Yup! I wanna spend more time with him and Jonathan, so I like to talk to them when I can.”

Blue then frowns. “But sometimes they put me out just so I don’t talk their ear off. Like, I guess I get why, but it’s, like, super rude.”

You give a bit of a laugh at this statement. This casual banter about the doctors shouldn’t entertain you, but it’s weirdly comforting to hear it from the perspective of someone who doesn’t see it as a big deal and is able to treat it as such. You’re not the type to do that yourself.

“Well anyway, I guess I’ll get going,” you cut the conversation short. “But I can’t wait to see your drawing when it’s done!”

“If I’m lucky, I should be done by tomorrow,” Blue responds with a wink and a smile. “Seeya.”

As you head back out of the crafts room, you hope that the worker is still going to be there waiting for you. Granted, you have no idea how big the place he resides in is if it’s supposedly also connected to an area the doctors use as well. Does he have a bed? A room of his own? Is he just in one giant kitchen with a corner for him to sleep in?

You can’t imagine that the boss is so cruel that he’d just leave workers with ample places to sleep, or leave them unclothed or unfed or in any other horrible condition. He could easily have done so with his prisoners, but for some reason has chosen to establish and decorate rooms somewhat nicely, unless it wasn’t his decision. Even if a lot of the holding rooms are only nice for the doctors to play around in, you’re not sure why the recreational areas are the way they are. Maybe bored and miserable prisoners wouldn’t make for very good sex slaves. Though, based on your experience with a few of the doctors, you question whether they’d have seen the misery as a bonus.

Micah certainly doesn’t like too much of it, and Lilah absolutely despises perceivable weaknesses like misery. Jonathan , Nathaniel, and Gale may not be partial to it themselves while still working around it, if their reaction to Three is any indication. You can’t much speak of the others. The boss and his mercenary, however, you’re sure would be absolutely unphased by their prisoners’ sullen states. Though, you’re not even sure they have Numbers, or if they’re at all interested in using anyone. Marcellus is the only one you’ve gotten to know even a little, but he seems far more interested in toying with emotions and relishing in observed fear than he does sex.

Your thoughts are then put on hold as you again enter the cafeteria and make your way quickly to the counter to try meeting with the worker there. You place the pencil and paper on the counter, where the candy you were given is still laying, and lightly knock against the pane to try getting the worker’s attention. You hear them slowly shuffle around and are thus led to assume that you’ve gotten the attention you wanted. So, you slip the paper and pencil through the slit and ask,

“Are you able to write?”

You wait a moment as the paper disappears from your sight, though it returns almost immediately with a mere three scraggly lines drawn close to one corner. Much to your dismay, it seems the worker isn’t able to communicate the way you’d hoped.

“Damn,” you mutter quietly to yourself. Wracking your brain a moment, you think back to the face the worker drew on your food and are given an idea. You decide to take the paper and rip off three small pieces. On all three respectively, you pencil in a happy face, a question mark, and a sad face. Then, you slip them toward the slit, halfway so that they’re both visible to you and the worker.

“Okay, let’s try this,” you begin. “This might limit us to yes or no questions, but if it’s a yes, then use the happy face. If it’s a no, the sad face. If you don’t know or can’t answer, then use the question mark. You can also just use it if you don’t feel comfortable answering a question. Does that make sense?”

You wait a moment and watch the three papers in anticipant focus. You’re rewarded when the paper with the smiling face slides slightly forward, and your own face lights up when you have successfully made some kind of progress.

You then put a hand to your chin in thought.

“I guess that means you can’t ask me anything,” you point out with a frown. “I’m sorry if that’s the case. But…maybe this will help us keep in touch?”

Again, the happy face slides forward before being retracted again. You glance at the shiny pane before you, seeing only a muddled reflection of yourself that’s warped and formless.

“Well…I’m not actually sure where to start,” you admit. “Um, do you live here? In there, I mean.”

The first paper slides forward again, much to your dismay. You figured the answer was yes, but wanted to be sure anyway. Knowing that it’s true only makes you feel bad for the worker. Even the cleanup workers are allowed to roam around the facility under orders. But here…

“You’re not happy here, are you?” You solemnly question, looking down at the papers. The rightmost one with the frown slides forward this time.

“Neither am I. I’m really sorry you have to be stuck here. I guess you must think we have it better since we at least get to talk to one another.

The worker again slides the frowning face forward, making you pick up your eyes and look at the pane.

“You’re not mad?”

Frown.

You’re shocked by this. You’d have been bitter yourself if you had nobody to talk to and had to watch others enjoying themselves for days on end. There have been countless times you conversed with the other Numbers all in front of the worker’s watchful eye. Though, this causes you to wonder,

“You’ve been watching us though, right?”

Smile.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly.

“So…you saw my doctor here with me the other night, didn’t you?”

Smile.

The response only makes you grimace.

“Did you feel bad for me? Is that why you drew what you did?”

Smile.

Again, you lower your eyes. Quietly, you ball your hands into fists.

“Did he hurt you?”

Frown.

You’re grateful for at least that. Yosuke has never been seen abusing a worker, but if Mom had no qualms about it, maybe even he might not either. Your doctor’s never been provoked by anyone but Mom, though you’d hate to see anyone else provoke him too. Even Cyrus seemed to have upset the man, but not to the same level as his own sultry doctor.

You continue on with your questions, not wanting to linger on thoughts of Yosuke right now.

“Can you talk?”

Frown.

“And you can’t write at all, huh?”

Frown.

You sigh at this information, even if you already guessed the answer from the worker’s previous page markings when you’d asked him to try writing just earlier. You don’t much blame the worker for their ineptitude when you have a few of your own. Though, you’re not sure if they have no ability to do these things because they never learned, or because they forgot how. Evidently, the worker’s hands couldn’t have been messed with if they can still cook.

“Can the others talk?”

Question mark.

Does he not know? Or does he not want to say? You slightly scorn your lack of clarity between the two. Maybe you should have had a fourth icon for the worker to use, but it’s a bit late now. Though, you start to wonder about the possibility of the worker forgetting how to read and write, so you ask,

“Do you know who you are?”

Question mark.

This time, you ask for more clarity.

“Do you not want to say?”

Smile.

You sigh. “Right…maybe I shouldn’t pry too hard about this stuff.”

Hesitantly, you glance up at the ceiling.

“He might be watching, right? I always thought there might be cameras…but I don’t really even know.”

Question mark.

“You wouldn’t know either, huh?” You give a pitiful attempt at a laugh. “You’re just locked up in there. You don’t get to know anything. You don’t even have the luxury of using a voice to ask questions with.”

You press your head against the pane and shut your eyes.

“I’m so goddamn sorry. I know I sound repetitive, but I don’t know what else to say.”

You stand there in silence a while before the sound of something being pushed forward across the small counter can be heard against its flat top. When you open your eyes again, you notice that the worker has further pushed the piece of candy he offered you before. With a meager smile, you take the thing and unwrap it.

“Thank you,” you express your gratitude and accept the gift finally. Popping the piece of candy in your mouth, you find that it’s a bit tart, but sweet.

Looking down still, you continue to ask the worker more questions.

“Do…you watch the others too?”

Smile.

This causes you to smile slightly as well, and you glance up at the pane again as if to look at the worker behind it. “You care about them don’t you?”

Smile.

“I’m glad. They’re really good friends of mine, you know. They’re sweet. Sometimes we fight or disagree, but I think we’re all doing better. I’m happy that they’re here, and that I have them. I’m sure they’re happy to have me around too.”

You look up at the pane again.

“Do you have a name?”

Frown.

“What about a title?” You question. “Mine’s Ten, but I don’t remember my name. And I heard a worker being referred to as a letter and number recently. I can’t really remember what it was since I was so out of it, but I remember that much.”

Smile.

“I guess you can’t really tell me what it is,” you frown. However, you have another idea after thinking on things a moment, and decide to take the rest of the paper that you didn’t use to start writing the alphabet on it. Once you’re done, you hold up the paper.

“These are letters,” you tell the worker. “If I sound these out, do you think you could tell me what your title is?”

The worker seems to hesitate a moment, but eventually the paper with the smiling face on it moves forward. Having their permission, you point to each written letter and carefully sound each one out, almost like a teacher to a schoolchild. Once you’ve finished, you put the paper back down with the pencil atop it.

“Did you get all that?” You ask. Again, the smiling paper moves forward.

“Okay. Circle the letter they use for you,” you instruct. Carefully, the worker takes the paper, and you wait a moment for them to try doing as told. After a little while, the paper is returned to you with the letters C and H circled.

“C.H.?” You read aloud, glancing at the paper. “As in ‘chef’ maybe?”

Smile.

How strange, you think. Though, you suppose this makes some kind of sense. Maybe the nurse was referred to as N. Actually, thinking hard on it now, you’re sure that was the case, even if you don’t entirely remember well enough to confirm it. Her number, though, you don’t remember at all. Based on this, you infer that the cleanup workers could be CW or just W, but you’d have no way of knowing.

Before you have the chance to ask or say anything else, you hear the cafeteria doors open from far behind you. Curious, you turn around and catch a glimpse of the twins walking side by side into the room. They see you rather immediately and each give a little wave.

“Hi, Ten!” Three greets with a smile. Your heart sinks slightly after remembering Nathaniel’s conversation about the two, and especially her. He’d said her heart is full of sadness, yet she constantly seems to try being chipper where possible. You’ve always known her to be skittish and afraid in certain moments, but to think that she’s suffered as badly as she does now even long before you knew her only hurts your heart.

“Oh, hey guys,” you try to remain smiling for the two as they approach you. “I heard from Blue you were around, but I wanted to stop here for some food.

“We saw her come in earlier, but we didn’t follow her around right away,” Two speaks up with a light shrug of his right shoulder. “We also heard Lav in the gym earlier, but we didn’t wanna bother her if she’s doing that thing she does.”

Observing the red-clothed young man now, you can see that the cast on his wrist is still there, but the one over his nose is now gone. If anything, he just has a light strip over his bridge, likely to help keep it in place. The skin around his nose is just slightly bruised, but not as badly as you’ve seen flesh bruised on others before. Certainly nowhere near as bad as the bruise Mom has under her eye.

“You’re looking a lot better,” you remark. “You feeling better too?”

“Oodles,” Two chuckles boyishly. “I can’t exactly sniff too hard or move my nose, but it’s healing up mostly. My arm is probably gonna be a bit longer. But it kinda sucks. Sometimes my nose itches or I need to blow it and I can’t.”

“I’ve been having to help him out,” Three giggles.

“I guess he’s lucky to have you around,” you joke. “Anyway, Blue’s just drawing. She didn’t want me to see what she was doing, though. I only popped in since I had to go to the crafts room to get some paper.”

The twins both glance behind you at the countertop with its many bits of paper strewn about.

“Uh, yeah, what’s that about?” Two questions. “You making confetti or something?”

You lightly laugh.

“No, I was actually talking to the worker here,” you explain, much to both Twins’ surprise. You’d prefer to refrain from explaining how this came about, so you add, “I don’t really know how it started, but…I found myself wanting to learn more about him. It took a while, but I figured out that this would be a good method of communication since he can’t read or write. But he does recognize letters.”

Two lowers a brow slightly.

“I mean, that’s cool, but…be careful,” he warns. “If they catch you digging for too much info…”

“I know,” you tell him sharply. “Believe me, I know. Hell, even they do since they refused to answer a question of mine. It’s just…I wanted to understand. Besides, Cyrus knows a lot of things and talks to us about them without consequence. I’m sure the doctors aren’t entirely stupid to the things he might know.”

“She has a point,” Three agrees, looking at her brother. “I’m sure it’ll be fine if we don’t ask a lot of stuff about this place specifically. Or anything about the doctors.”

“I guess,” Two mumbles, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “Anyway, does he have a name?”

“Not really,” you tell the two, turning slightly toward the counter. “I sounded out some letters for him and managed to figure out that he’s labelled as C.H., but not much else.”

“Well, that’s hardly a name,” Three laughs, closer toward the counter. “Hey, worker person, do you want us to call you something else?”

Question mark.

Three turns her head to you and frowns.

“What does that mean?”

“The left and right ones mean yes and no, and the middle one is more of an ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I can’t say’ kind of thing,” you explain. “So, he might not be sure.”

“Oooh…” Three makes a curious noise. “I never really thought about talking to them before.”

“We never figured he could talk to begin with,” Two elaborates. He then pauses a moment and looks up in thought. “I mean, I think they’re a he.”

“I guess I assumed the same,” you say sheepishly, now self-aware of this fact. “Not sure why.”

Two brings his eyes back down and looks at the pane. “Are you a guy?”

Smile.

“I never guessed!” Three giggles. “We should have thought of talking to him like this way earlier. This is kind of neat!”

“I mean, it’s still kinda sad that he’s stuck here,” you speak up with a light frown. “But…maybe now we can keep him company. He says he’s watched all of you before. He does care.”

“Really?” Two seems genuinely shocked. “But we haven’t done anything for him. I feel kind of bad, actually.”

At that instant, the worker pushes two more pieces of candy through the slit. You watch as Three’s eyes light up.

“This is for us?” She asks. The worker pushes forward the paper with the smiling face on it, making Three happier. “Thank you!”

Both her and Two take their own candy and pop it in their mouths, leaving the wrapper on the counter by yours.

“Hey, you came here for actual food, didn’t you?” You question. However, both twins don’t bother to stop eating the candy.

“I haven’t had candy in a long time!” Three gushes. “This one tastes like lemon.”

Two waves your statement off. “We’ll be fine. We worked up a bit of an appetite anyway.”

Three glances at her brother with a pouting look and lightly nudges him, though you’re absolutely aware of what the young man meant. Still, he tries to correct himself and elaborate,

“Uh, playing games, I mean. We were at the arcade for a while. It got pretty competitive.”

You realize now that this absolutely means the two were still finding ways to mess around together even with Two’s cast on. With how especially chipper Three has been this entire conversation, you’re not all too shocked. You almost wonder how their coupling worked with Two’s incapacity, but would rather not put the thought of it in your head. Instead, you let it go and change the subject.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever had candy while here,” you comment. “Just pudding. It’s nice.”

You look down then, thinking of Violet and her love of sweets and junk. You wonder how she’s doing now. You could easily ask Cyrus since he’s here, but don’t much want to bother him while he’s meditating.

“So, if you’re male, do you maybe want a guy’s name?” Two questions the worker. Again, he pushes forward the question mark.

“We could name a few and see what sticks,” Three suggests with a shrug. “Do you wanna give that a try?”

The worker pushes forward the paper with the happy face on it this time, making Three’s eyes sparkle again.

“Great!” She chirps, then turns to both you and her brother. “Okay, so try to remember all the ‘ch’ names you’ve seen in books and heard in movies.”

“I’ve not really read enough books to have any names in mind,” You sheepishly eject yourself from this matter. Three merely pouts.

“I guess that’s true,” she remarks before focusing on her brother. “What about you, Two?”

“You think I read?” Two lowers a brow. Three pokes her brother on the shoulder a few times.

“I know for a fact you do because I’ve caught you with a book in your hands a few times,” she points out. “So spill it.”

You laugh lightly in amusement at the twins’ back-and-forth, but Two merely rolls his eyes a bit.

“Alright, fine. How about Chase?”

The worker pushes forward the paper with the frown, much to Two’s dismay.

“How about Chauncy?” Three suggests. This causes Two to laugh.

“That sounds like some old person’s name.”

As if to agree, the worker pushes the same paper forward again. Three mimics the expression on the paper, lowering her brows as she gives a frown of her own.

“Chris?” She suggests.

Frown.

“That’s all the names I remember off the top of my head,” Two shrugs. “Got anymore, sis?”

“Ooh! What about Charlie?” The young girl chirps eagerly. However, her brother shakes his head.

“No, that’s like, a girl’s name or something.”

Three pouts and lightly stamps her foot. “Is not! I’ve read books with guys named Charlie too.”

“Alright, alright. Charlie’s a unisex name I guess.” Evidently Two doesn’t much want to argue with his sister. He then turns to the pane to face the worker behind it and shrugs. “What do you say to that, then?”

All three of you watch the counter intently for the worker’s response. After a moment of nothing happening, the leftmost paper with the smiling face moves forward. Three seems thrilled by this positive response after receiving a slew of negative ones.

“Great!” She exclaims happily. “So we’ll call you Charlie then.”

“Isn’t it kinda weird for us to be naming him like a pet?” Two mulls this over, as if to second-guess himself despite Charlie having given a positive answer toward the idea. “I mean, are you really okay with that?”

Again, the smiling face slides forward.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you shrug. “We’ll spread the message to the others eventually.”

Three looks over at you with curiosity.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask him?” She questions you. “Or do you think we’ve bothered him enough?”

“I figure that’s enough for today,” you lightly laugh. “Charlie, we’ll try to keep in touch, okay?”

The first paper again moves forward before Charlie pushes all three pieces forward. However, you push them and the pencil back while giving a light smile.

“Keep them,” you say. “In case others have the chance to talk to you. That way we can have a means to communicate. And keep the one with the alphabet on it too. If you want, you can try studying it a bit and learning the letters. That way maybe you can start spelling things out so that we can talk a little more intricately.”

Charlie hesitates a moment, but eventually pulls all the paper and the pencil through the slit, and you watch as they completely disappear from your sight. Whether or not he’s happy with being acknowledged, you don’t quite know. But you’re glad that you finally put your own unease about the worker behind you and managed to reach out to him.

You can’t blame anyone for not knowing how to communicate with Charlie. For the most part, all they really knew of the guy was that he gave them food. Out of sight, out of mind, as you recall thinking before of other things. Because he was so separated from the group, and because the Numbers couldn’t much get an answer from him that wasn’t just him shoving food and drink through the opening between the pane and counter, it’s no wonder they didn’t much know how to approach him.

As you stand there thinking to yourself, Charlie, taking the indication that the conversation is over, finally brings the twins something to eat. While the exchange between the twins goes on, you start to recall Six’s diary mentioning the cafeteria worker once. In fact, she’d suggested someone replaced them. You wonder whether Charlie was that replacement, but she’d mentioned that the food wasn’t as good as it had been prior. That doesn’t much sound like the worker you’ve met, since all of his food has been good to you. Though, you are curious…

“Charlie?” You call out as the Twins stop the banter between themselves to look at you. “Charlie…I have one last thing to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

You hear shuffling behind the counter and presume that Charlie’s still there.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here?”

Charlie sticks the paper with the frown through the slit, then retracts it.

“Was there someone here before you?”

A smile, this time.

You ask your next question with a slightly more worried tone, your eyes focused on the pane.

“Are they eventually going to replace you too?”

Before Charlie can answer, you feel a hand on your left shoulder that surprises you. Slowly, you turn your head to see Two standing by you, his hazel eyes fixated on your face and his eyebrows slightly lowered.

“Don’t ask him too much,” he reminds you. “I don’t want any of us to get in trouble. Besides, you might just freak him out asking that stuff.”

“I know, but…” You sigh as you trail off. There’s really no excuse, you admit. You just can’t help but want to understand things. Your tendency toward curiosity is a crux of some kind. Maybe you should learn to control it.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Three tries to remain upbeat, though you can tell even she’s worried by the slight faltering of her earlier gleaming expression “Look, come sit down with us, ‘kay? We can talk to Charlie later.”

Agreeing, you give your goodbyes to your worker friend and let him go back to whatever it was he’d been up to. You follow the twins to a table and let them sit by one another, while you take your place across from them, facing in the direction of the wall with the counter on it. You stay silent a moment as the twins peck at their food, but Two’s the one to speak up before you can.

“So, he’s just going to watch us?” He questions.

“Yeah, but he sort of already has been,” you point out. “It’s not like he has much else to do there. He lives in there, after all.”

“I know you guys have already said it, but I feel bad for him,” Three frowns as she places her fork politely in her mouth. After chewing and swallowing her bite, she goes on. “I wouldn’t really like to be stuck in there either.”

Two shrugs a shoulder in a casual manner. “Well, there’s nothing we can really do for him anyway. We can barely even do much for ourselves. I guess we’re pretty lucky to have something to do. Maybe all he does is cook and sleep.”

“He’s a slave,” you comment, looking down. You lean on the table then, placing both elbows upon the surface and grabbing each upper arm as if to hold yourself. “I mean, I guess we all kind of are. It still sucks. Even the other workers get to roam around. At least the cleanup workers do.”

“What do you mean?” Two raises a brow. “They’re the only other workers here, right?”

You widen your eyes slightly in surprise at this question. It hasn’t occurred to you that you’ve not talked about meeting the nurses with anyone but Lav and Cyrus.

“Um, no,” you tell him openly. “I…woke up after my shot and saw another kind.”

“What?” Three looks at you with an open mouth. “Like what kind?”

“A nurse,” is your blunt response. “I guess all she did was act as an assistant to the doctors, but I didn’t see much of her. She just looked different, but still was completely covered.”

“That’s really weird,” Three looks up in thought. “I didn’t even think there were others.”

“And what’s this about you waking up?” Two questions as he shoves a forkful of greens in his mouth. Evidently, your initial statement hasn’t quite passed him by.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I really don’t. I just did, and I kept waking up here and there until I was fully recovered. Everyone said it was weird. Even Nathaniel-“

You look up instinctively at Three as you say the doctor’s name, only to notice that she’s tensed up slightly. Her grip around her fork has tightened, and she’s looking down at the table now with an uneasy expression on her face. Seeing this, and not wanting to cause her any discomfort, you drop the subject entirely.

“Well, anyway…” you mutter. “Did you guys see Monica?”

“The new lady? Yeah,” Two responds. He looks on at you with a sheepish smile, as if silently grateful for your decision to not talk of Nathaniel while also being apologetic for his sister’s reaction. “She’s…weird. Like, she’s super happy. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Y-yeah,” Three adds, trying to recompose herself. “I don’t really trust her, but she was really nice to me. Not the way Mama is where she’s just pretending. She was just actually nice.”

You raise a brow. “So, neither of you have seen her before?”

Two stops digging at his plate a moment and merely pushes around the leftover greens on it.

“No, not really,” he mumbles. “But I feel like I’ve seen a face like hers before. I just don’t think it was hers. I don’t know the woman at all.”

You widen your eyes. “You think you might have seen her before? She mentioned she was new, but when I asked if she was completely new to the facility, she didn’t really seem to know how to answer.”

“That’s weird,” Two shrugs this off and continues to shovel another forkful of greens in his mouth. He speaks now with it full. “Like, I don’t think I know her. Maybe she just has one of those faces.”

“Are you the only one that feels like you’ve seen her face before?” You question. Two nods.

“Yeah. I don’t know, maybe she looks like someone I used to know. But I don’t really wanna think about it.”

“Why not?”

Two looks up in thought. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t like the way it makes me feel,” he admits. “It makes my brain all fuzzy, I guess. When I try to remember things. So, I just find it easier and better to not care or think so much about it.”

“He’s really relaxed about that stuff,” Three tries to laugh this off. “I usually feel pain when I think about it, though.”

“I guess everyone experiences it differently….” You think aloud, looking down at the table. You feel even worse for Three hearing her own experience. To feel constant pain upon trying to remember anything is honestly unfathomable to you, but certainly worrisome.

“I just feel like there’s static,” you add. “Even Blue said it was more of a pins and needles feeling for her.”

You then heave a sigh.

“Well, I don’t suppose Monica’s going to be doing visits anytime soon. I was told she’s not ‘ready’ for them since she’s so new. And, in any case, I guess I won’t get anywhere asking about her even if I wanted to know. Nobody will tell me a thing.”

“Do you know what she does?” Two questions. You shake your head.

“No. I’ve only ever seen her in the office with Mom.”

You almost laugh then. “Mom really doesn’t like her. It’s weirdly satisfying to see her be bothered like that and not be able to do anything about it.”

“Are any women in this place not catty?” Two jokes with a laugh. “Honestly.”

Three lightly scowls at this statement and nudges her brother firmly. He merely gives a casual “ow” in response, but doesn’t say much otherwise.

“I dunno, I think some of the doctors are just catty in general,” you correct him with a light pout. “My doctor doesn’t much like Milos or Lilah despite trying to seem like they don’t bother him. And Lilah seems to hate everyone from what I can gather from how she talks to people. Then there’s Sven and Micah, but I haven’t really seen them together yet.”

You notice Three trying to ignore this brief conversation about the other doctors. You suppose it just slipped, though you don’t intend to linger too much on it for her sake.

“Look, Sven’s like, some generic normal-guy asshole,” Two says with a light wave of his fork. “Micah’s a bit of a rebellious bad boy, or at least he likes to act like he is. It’s like when the jock kid thinks the alternative kid is weird or something and makes fun of them, even though they’re probably like, super similar to one another.”

You tilt your head. “Huh…?”

“You don’t watch movies?” Three questions, jumping at the chance to change the topic to something less discomforting. “It’s a pretty common thing. I’ve seen enough movies with Blue to notice.”

“Honestly, what have you been doing this whole time anyway?” Two playfully shakes his head as if pretending to be ashamed of you.

You pout at the young man’s gesture and look at him with a straight face. “I could tell you, but I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Three giggles lightly to herself. “You and me both, honestly,” she says. You shift your gaze toward her, but don’t much react to her statement right away. In some way, maybe you two are alike when it comes to not divulging information for the sake of your own mental health. Is that why she attached herself to you once before? She’d mentioned you remind her of Jade, anyway. But it’s not as if she couldn’t see aspects of herself in you either. You’ve been hesitant and sheepish about a lot of what goes on here. Horrified by it. Disgusted. Like Three, you have a negative opinion of all the doctors, even when they try to be nice. You’ve been hurt so much that there’s no reason to ever trust people like them. Not even a doctor like Monica who hasn’t even done anything wrong yet beyond agreeing to be a part of all of this.

But one stark difference between you and Three is that you’ve always had the ability to talk back, something Three seems to struggle with since she recoils so much. Though, you feel that’s changed slightly with time, especially with certain doctors who have scarred you enough to not speak up as much. Mom, Lilah, and Milos especially.

Realizing you’ve been staring at Three a little bit too long, you finally give her a light smile and finally respond,

“I guess we have that in common sometimes.”

Three returns your smile silently, perhaps finding solace in your similarity. Two again turns his attention to the rest of his food and largely doesn’t notice the exchange. You wonder how he feels about this kind of thing, honestly. He hardly seems to make a big deal out of being here even when he has the capacity to reflect and respond with more focus. He speaks so casually about a lot of this, and the only time you’ve ever seen him get so serious about this place is in the one moment you two spoke about his sister. Of all the things there are to take seriously here, she seems to be the only thing he does.

He’s mentioned he does what he does for Three because he loves her and wants to take care of her, that he even has to because only he can really understand her. You wonder whether he really even wants to keep this up, though. He’d seemed flustered when Three playfully suggested they get married. Even if it was supposed to be “in character”, it sure didn’t feel that way. You don’t really know if Two had been uncomfortable with the idea because he doesn’t much like commitment, or because even he realizes that what he’s doing with his sister is questionable. But, like Lav had said, a place like this unsurprisingly drives people to do this sort of thing. You suppose you’ll just have to let it be and act supportive toward each of the twins despite knowing what you do. You’d never really confront them about it, any more than you would the peachy girlfriends about their relationship that started because Gale wanted it to.

With the lull in conversation, Two switches the topic up to something more casual. Though, Three responds to whatever he’s saying first while you remain lost in your own thoughts. You end up glancing over at the pane by the counter behind the twins and ponder just how long it’ll be until Charlie has to be replaced too.

Why the workers get replaced at all is beyond you. Certainly, the doctors’ superior and Marcellus treat them the same as the other prisoners here, where they won’t hesitate to kill them if they act unruly. But the workers seem to all be docile and don’t run when they absolutely have the chance. Yosuke had even said they won’t ever act out, as if he was so sure despite you pointing out the chances they have to be resilient. The worker Mom had kicked down even took it like a champ, not once retaliating even when you could tell they were furious and struggling.

There has to be something that keeps them here. You’re sure of it. But if they’re slaves, there’s no real way something like money is enough. They’re prisoners here. They don’t get rewards.

Are they merely afraid to act out like you are? Is the threat of death enough for them to comply? It is for you because you’re cornered. You can’t easily escape. The workers, however, waltz about the halls when they’re ordered. They’ve not always been supervised from what you’ve seen of the workers who took Mom away a while back. A fear of death might not stop someone who has even an inkling of a chance to escape from trying to do so. You really can’t wrap your head around it.

For the most part, you try to keep these questions in the back of your mind, but accept there’s not really a lot you can do about it now even if you do have some great epiphany or idea about how the workers are handled. You did enough for today anyway.

Granted, you’re not quite sure that interacting how you did with Charlie will be considered heinous by anyone in charge who might find out. Your only defense is that you can’t do anything with what you’ve learned, nor does any of the information apply to you specifically. What’s the harm in knowing a worker’s title, or their relationship to other workers? You at least hope it’s the case that you’ll be fine. You still haven’t gotten any flak about your stunt with Cyrus, Eight, and Lav under the table, so maybe you’re okay in this. That was far riskier than talking to a worker since it was such a blatant disregard of the boss’ word, you think.

The twins eventually finish their food, and are apparently so wrapped up in their own discussion that they fail to notice you haven’t partaken in it in a while. Focusing on them now, you hear them mention maybe going to see what Blue’s up to since Cyrus’ meditative practices often take a while, and they don’t want to bother Lav if she’s playing. They seem aware that she plays without clothes, and you can’t much blame them for not wanting to have to see unwarranted nudity if they can help it. You, however, are willing to visit her yourself. You partially advise the twins against seeing Blue, but naturally, they don’t much listen. You’re sure she won’t mind the break, at least.

Before you all part ways, the three of you say your goodbyes to Charlie. He isn’t at the counter to respond at all, but you’re sure he’s heard you since you hear him shuffling about nearby. It feels nice to have made a friend. You certainly hope the guy will have some glimmer of happiness in having others talk to him somehow. Even if it is in the form of questions. Unfortunately, there’s not much else you can do to communicate with him, unless he learns the alphabet like you suggested. But even that might take more time than he has left.

After leaving the cafeteria, the twins waste no time in heading to the crafts room while you wander over to the gym. You end up passing by the gardens to do so, but stop when you ‘re close to the entrance and stare at the doors intently. Again, you wonder how Cyrus is doing after his talk with Violet. You’d imagine he’s stressed by what she told him, if she did tell him what she wanted to after all. Maybe he’s meditating now because he needs to try accepting what was said. You can’t much blame him. You think it best not to bug him now, in that case. Though, you admittedly want to see him again.

Putting your thoughts aside, you press on to the gym. When you get there and the doors part, you’re unsurprised by the sight of Lav doing precisely what she had the first time you met. Again, she’s taken her gown off and has her hair tied in a low-hanging ponytail. Though, you’re oddly not as put off by her nudity this time. You’ve been through enough with the doctors to not be as ashamed by it from someone who’s close to you, however you’d be lying if you tried to say you didn’t feel some sliver of embarrassment. Certainly nowhere near as much as you used to, but it’s not entirely gone. At the very least, you can stomach looking the young woman in the eye when she catches sight of you.

Lav gives a wide smile when she sees you at the entrance. She grabs hold of her basketball in both hands and makes her way toward you. Evidently, she’s not going to be bothered by her nudity in front of you now any more than she was before. You can at least hold yourself together and not act completely stupid around her. As long as you don’t let your eyes linger too long on her, you’re sure it’s fine.

This thought flusters you though—why would you have any reason to stare at her anyway? A body is just a body, right? You almost blush asking yourself this question, but luckily Lav’s voice breaks the ice.

“Good to see you,” She greets casually. “You come back for a rematch?”

“What do you mean rematch?” You question with a laugh, trying to remain casual in response. “I couldn’t beat you even if I wanted to.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” your blonde companion mulls it over playfully while looking up. She then focuses back on you and grins. “Hey, I mean, if you practiced, you might.”

You scoff. “Do you know how long it would take for me to actually gain muscle just to beat you in a game?”

“A while,” is your friend’s meager response. “It’s not impossible, but you are pretty soft compared to me. Might take a lot more work than you think.”

“Sorry, but I’m not exactly looking for a personal trainer right now,” you answer lightly, stepping closer to the young woman to meet her in the middle of the gym floor. As you pass by the benches, you notice Lav’s gown crumpled up on the end of one of them.

“Come on, even Cyrus runs,” she points out teasingly. “And Violet swims. Hell, even playing an instrument like Eight takes a lot of physical attention. You should think about trying something out sometime. Getting physical in a more sporty way might help take your mind off of things.”

This statement causes you to blink a few times a moment.

“Huh? Do I look like I have something on my mind?” You ask. Lav merely laughs and tosses you the basketball in her hands, which you fail to catch. Your face grows red at your fuckup, but you let the ball slowly bounce and dribble off behind you. Lav doesn’t much bother to try chasing after it either, now focused on you.

“No,” she says. “But you always have something you’re thinking about. With reason and all, but you think way too much sometimes.”

“Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you shrug. “You know me. I always have something going on. Though it’s hardly my fault.”

“No kidding,” Lav lightly scoffs. She then folds her arms. “Anyway, what have you been up to today? You just come in?”

“No,” you shake your head. You slowly walk toward one of the benches and sit casually upon it. Lav merely follows, but doesn’t sit down. “I got here a little while ago. I stopped to have lunch and then…I talked to the worker a while.”

“The what?” Lav blinks. “The cafeteria guy?”

You nod. “Yeah. I felt kind of awkward about him staring at me and decided to try talking to him.”

“And how’d that go?”

You smile. “Better than I thought it would. I asked him a few questions before the twins showed up for lunch, and we all talked to him a little too. He’s actually kind of nice.”

“Why wouldn’t he have been?”

You shrug at this question. “I don’t know. I guess I was pretty put off by his lack of…face. Or something. I feel weird about the workers in general, even if I know they’re just prisoners here like us. Anyway, Charlie doesn’t really read or write, but we ended up communicating with faces on pieces of paper. I asked him yes and no questions and he answered them that way.”

Lav raises a brow. “Charlie? You named him?”

“Yeah, sort of!” You laugh. “We asked if he wanted to try getting a name and he said yes. It was the twins’ idea. I found out that his title is C.H., which I figured was for ‘chef’, and the twins went through names they’ve seen in stuff they’ve read and watched until he agreed on Charlie. We just kind of went with it.”

“Gosh, what else did you find out?” Lav asks. “Nothing…incriminating or anything, right? I’d hate for you to get in trouble. I hardly talk to the guy myself except to ask for stuff.”

“Everyone seems to have done the same,” you mention. “And Two was worried about that too. I’m sure I didn’t ask him anything important. All I really found out was about him personally. He can’t talk or write, he lives behind that counter, and he doesn’t really know much about the other workers.”

“Hm…that’s pretty shitty.” A frown forms on Lav’s lips as she makes this comment. “I figured that maybe he got to roam around like the other workers, at least after we went to our rooms. There’s a door in the cafeteria and all.”

“Maybe it’s one way,” you suggest, looking down. “For him, anyway. And any other worker who gets put there.”

You sigh.

“Well, at least we have a way to talk to him now. If we ever want to. We’re limited to specific kinds of questions, but even then, that’s something, right?”

“Hmm, I guess so. I’ll try to keep in touch with him then. But I don’t really know what to say to people all the time.”

You grin. “You? No way. You seem super sociable.”

“Ha, ha,” Lav looks down at you with a light pout. “Anyway, you seem chipper today. I’m glad.”

You blush.

“O-oh, do I? I mean…I did just spend time with the twins. Maybe their attitude is a little contagious.”

“Where are they, anyway?”

You put both hands in your lap and look on toward the door of the gym.

“They went to go bother Blue in the crafts room,” you answer. “She was busy drawing when I went in there. I don’t think she’ll be too happy for the intrusion, but I also don’t think she’s the type to say no to a bit of socialization. I know Cyrus is here too, but the twins said he was meditating. I did want to see him, but I didn’t want to bother him.”

Lav looks down.

“I hope he’s not doing it because of what happened with Violet,” she mumbles. “He seemed really down when I saw him today before he went off to do his own thing. Or at least just…thoughtful. I don’t know.”

“I guess she really did tell him…” you say aloud, but then hold a hand over your mouth slightly. “I mean…”

“Tell him what?” Lav raises a brow. “Or are you sworn to secrecy?”

“I don’t wanna get too into it, but it was just something she felt and thought about,” you briefly explain, dropping your hand. “It’s something that’s riddled her with guilt. Something those two need to resolve alone. I was only made aware of it because Violet felt bad enough to tell me. And I think she just didn’t want to be mad at me forever. She just is in the moment and needs time.”

“She really is a good person underneath that hot head, huh?” Lav smiles. “I feel bad for her. But I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

The both of you grow silent a moment, though you end up looking up at Lav and asking,

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?”

Lav glances at you with light confusion.

“You want me to?” She asks. “I was gonna change so you don’t feel uncomfortable. You know, with me being naked and all. You freaked out about it last time.”

“Well…it’s been a while, I guess,” you say, lightly blushing. “I don’t mind it now. As long as you don’t make it a big deal.”

Lav continues to look at you for a moment before giving another warm smile and accepting your invitation. She unfolds her arms and ends up sitting beside you, to your left.

“You’re really growing, huh?” She remarks.

Her question makes you smile lightly to yourself. “Maybe. But I still struggle with a lot here. I still feel weak and useless at times. Like maybe I’m just fucking up somehow.”

Lav turns her head to you. “I’m proud of you though. You’re doing way better than you think. Even with all the turmoil in your head and all the bullshit you put up with.”

She then nudges you lightly. “I mean, you’re still here, right? With me and everyone else?”

You continue to blush, feeling your cheeks getting slightly hotter. “Yeah, I guess so.”

This answer doesn’t much satisfy your companion, as she lowers a brow and leans in to better get a look at your face. By now, without really realizing it, you’ve slightly hung your head.

“You…are proud of yourself, aren’t you?” She asks. “That’s even more important than others being proud of you, you know.”

You end up hesitating a moment as you ponder the answer to this question. Lav isn’t wrong that you’ve progressed, but you figure you still have a long way to go before you become what could be considered anything akin to “rounded”.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you finally answer,

“A little. I’m still sort of working things out.”

“Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Lav gives a half-laugh. She then gently takes your hand in hers and grasps it firmly. “Anyway, I’m happy for you, Ten. You’ve been going through a lot lately and you’re still holding up. You’re fighting even now despite feeling like you were going to slip away a while ago. It means a lot to me to see you still pushing through.”

“Thanks,” you sheepishly express your gratitude while glancing away. The redness in your face doesn’t subside in the least as you aren’t sure how to process this praise. You’re admittedly grateful for it, but it’s so strange to you even now. You’ve only known a twisted kind of attention. Something like this is always a nice change of pace, but certainly one that takes a moment to adjust to.

Once more, silence befalls the both of you. With nothing else to say, you affix your eyes to the floor in thought. However, Lav is again the one to break the ice.

“Ten,” she speaks up. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

You pick up your head and turn it to glance at her. “Huh?”

“I was just asking,” The young woman lightly laughs. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s just, we’re here alone again after a long while. It brought me back a little.”

“I don’t think you can feel nostalgic for something that happened so recently,” you joke, not sure how to handle the question. You admittedly wouldn’t mind the affection from someone close to you after receiving nothing but twisted affection from your doctor and others. You could use a break from everything in between, too. Even if it’s just a small one.

“It’s fine if you say no,” Lav shakes you from your thoughts and lets go of your hand. “I guess I just got caught up in the moment. Even the big tough girl has feelings, you know.”

For as composed as she’s tended to seem, Lav almost looks completely disappointed now. You know she’s always been fond of you. Even from the first moment you spent together she made it clear. But she’s always respected your boundaries, same as Cyrus who’s been said to like you the same way.

You wonder if he’d mind too terribly if you indulged Lav’s urges. He never seemed offended by knowing you fooled around once before, but you wonder if he’d react differently knowing it was Lav. They’ve cultivated a friendship, but you aren’t sure whether they’re close at all beyond that. Lav has said they’ve talked so casually about romance and sex before, and you’ve noticed they’ve hung out a lot more lately.

You’re not the least bit upset by it, but you can’t help but feel as though their closeness could complicate things. Would you be hurting one of their feelings by fooling around with the other? If they both really do like you, then you figure it’s possible. Even for as rounded as the both of them are, you’ve seen Cyrus hurt before, and Lav, for as strong-willed as she is, still has feelings of her own that can be hurt. She had just said so, but it’s something you were already aware of even for as relaxed as she’s tried to seem to you.

No, this is crazy. You’re treating this like it’s going to lead to sex. All she asked for was a kiss, right? But, then you wonder, would you have liked it to lead into sex? Does Lav expect it to? She’s fairly open about the subject. You’re certain she might ask if the kiss sparks something in her.

Admittedly, you’d be willing to say yes only because you trust Lav and because you could use the affection from someone who isn’t a doctor. Last time you were desperate for it, you’re the one who tried to move on Lav yourself. Now, you genuinely feel okay. Even with the burden of what you’ve been going through, you’re admittedly much better than you expected to be.

Despite your hesitance, you again take Lav’s hand on your own and fixate your gaze on her.

“It’s…fine,” you eventually decide. “I’m ok with it. It’s just been a while since I’ve had the chance to even say yes, that’s all.”

Lav looks on at you with a light smile. She turns herself slightly to face you, while you do the same to face her more easily. However, you end up looking down as your embarrassment rises. Lav merely takes both your hands to try being assuring, and you try to reciprocate her gaze despite your trembling. Why are you so nervous? This isn’t super new to you, after all. Though, you were nervous before too and uncertain about how you felt.

Despite your hesitancy, you allow the lavender young woman to lean into you and press her lips warmly against yours. The both of you end up closing your eyes as you’re lip-locked. This kiss is far sweeter than anticipated, and Lav doesn’t linger too much in case you’re genuinely uncomfortable. After a moment of being met with one another, she pulls slightly back and looks at you. There’s a faint glint in her eyes as she watches you, but she doesn’t bother to go further.

Instead, Lav squeezes your hands and looks down, still smiling to herself and even blushing slightly.

“Thank you,” she expresses her gratitude. You can’t help but watch her soft expression with a fluttering heart. The warmth of her skin felt good against yours, you admit. You hesitate a moment, but end up reciprocating the grip of her hands and lean in yourself, moving to kiss the girl rather than let her take the lead. This almost surprises Lav, as she blinks a few times and raises her brows. But she eventually lets it happen and returns the favor by leaning into you as well.

This time, the kiss is a little bit more enthused as your mouths part slightly to invite the other in. It doesn’t go much further than light contact between the insides of each of your mouths, though. Lav even pulls back again to look at you and take a few light breaths.

“You kissed me back,” she comments with light surprise.

You look away and lightly blush. “I guess I got caught up in the moment too. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lav gives another light smile. “But…do you want it to stop there?”

You give a hesitant grumble, making an incoherent groaning noise as you continue looking away. Lav merely squeezes your hand again.

“Hey, you don’t have to,” she says. “I just thought I’d ask. You know me, I’m always relaxed and, I guess, a little bit forward about that stuff. Sorry. But if you’re shy, we can stop here. I’m happy either way, and I want you to be comfortable.”

You blink a few times, shifting your eyes around while avoiding direct eye contact with Lav as you ponder this again. Your heart’s fluttering as if it’s going to fly right out of your chest, in fact. But you do want to try.

“I…wouldn’t mind it,” you eventually get the words out. You then force yourself to look at Lav’s amber eyes, noting that she’s still fixated warmly on you. “It’s just been a while. But I’d be willing to try again.”

Lav chuckles. “If you say so. Do you want to be on top this time?”

You blush even harder. “Um…I don’t think I’m much of a top. Or at least, I’m not ready to be.”

“That’s fine,” is Lav’s mere response. “Lay down then, maybe?”

You sheepishly do so and lay back across the bench, though and up having to keep your legs hanging on its sides to give Lav room to move. Admittedly, this works out in her favor, though you feel slightly embarrassed having yourself be open like this for her, even if you wanted to try it.

“I want you to be comfortable, so you tell me what you want first,” Lav tells you, moving her body atop yours and steadying herself on what little of the bench there is to hold on to with you laying across it.

“Um…I’m not sure,” you sheepishly admit. “I’m not used to doing this.”

Lav tilts her head and smirks, teasing you. “Wait, how many doctors have you seen again?”

“Hey, I haven’t done this consensual thing in a while,” you tell her, lowering a brow. “I’m really used to just taking orders and being tossed around. I don’t really know what to do. The only time I really got to choose what I wanted was with Jonathan, and it was still weird for me.”

“Okay, okay. Take your time,” Lav responds. “I just need you to communicate with me so I can help you. And if you want to stop, we totally can.”

You look away a moment, and it sinks in for you finally that Lav’s wholly naked atop you. It’d almost slipped your mind since you kept fixating on her face or on anything else around the room only. Your heart refuses to stop fluttering, and you can’t think of what it is you want when you’re not even sure anymore.

You think you just want to feel good and loved, but dealing with someone who you do care about when you actually have the opportunity to say what it is you want is weird for you. Why is this so hard? Lav’s not wrong in her implication that you should be used to this with how often you’ve done it. You’ve been stripped and abused and forced to do unusual things before. Now you’re presented with something gentler that you can control, and you can’t even bring yourself to be open about it?

You finally look back at Lav and place your hands on her shoulders.

“Um…maybe take it slow,” you finally request. Yes, that sounds like the best way to take it. “I wouldn’t mind kissing again. It might help me ease into it.”

Lav frowns. “Ten, if you’re not absolutely sure you want to-“

“I do!” You cut her off. “I do want to. I just…I don’t know why I’m being so shy right now, sorry.”

Lav pauses a moment to look at your face, her lips slightly parted as she assesses you. After a brief silence, she moves a hand to the back of her head and pulls off her hairband the way she had the other day. You watch as her blonde hair falls downward over her shoulders and neck as it no longer has anything holding it back. Gently, she takes your right hand and slips the band over it, letting it settle on your wrist.

“Hold this for me, okay?” She requests, speaking gently and lowly. Lav smiles at you and puts your hand back on her shoulder. You say nothing in response, merely staring at her softened face with curious eyes. Not knowing what else to say, Lav decides to place one hand on the side of your head and lean back in to start kissing you. Her eyes close, and yours follow just after as you two again remain lip-locked.

The young woman starts off slowly and sweetly, trying to be gentle and polite with you. Admittedly, this helps you a bit. You’re able to accustom yourself to the situation despite having started to feel dizzy in your meekness. After a while of this, Lav tries to be more intimate with her kisses, but takes it slow until you reciprocate her movements and let her know it’s okay to be a little more open with you, without words.

As you lose yourself to the warmth of her mouth and tongue, you wind up wrapping your arms around her. Your body feels warm this way, pressed up against hers. Loved, even.

Before you two can go much further, the intercom goes off above you. You hear Monica’s voice again, calling Lav’s number and requesting she come forward for a visitor.

In the midst of your kissing, Lav pulls away and looks at you, though her expression seems slightly sullen now.

“Bummer,” she speaks lowly, almost whispering. She then gives a light sigh. “I was really enjoying it.”

You blush and finally smile again, even if only subtly. “Me too.”

Lav moves off of you and stands back up from the bench. After giving a light stretch, she extends a hand to help you sit up.

“We can always try again another time,” you suggest, taking her hand and promptly letting it go after you’ve sat back up. “If you want.”

“I’m always up for it,” Lav laughs as she moves to a nearby bench to collect her gown and start dressing herself again “But you should tell me when you’re ready to try again. I don’t want you to rush into it. And if you decide you change your mind, that’s fine too.”

Lav tugs her gown over her body and pulls her hair out from the neck of it, guiding it to settle on her back. She then turns to you and smiles.

“I should go,” she says. “But thanks for that. It was…really nice.”

You return her smile, but say nothing as Lav makes her way out of the gym. You merely give a light wave, but otherwise remain sitting on the bench by yourself. You admit being with Lav again was comforting, even if a bit rocky at first. At the very least, you’ve finally stopped shaking.

Quietly, you bring a few fingers to your lips and think of the young woman kissing you again, blushing as you do. Your body still seems to radiate with the warmth it had when she was atop you, as if still wanting more. You wonder if that means you really do share the same feelings she does towards you. But there’s a bit of a problem in this, you realize. You do like her just as much as Cyrus. You don’t want to feel pressured to open up to one while shutting the other down. Even if the both of them seem okay with you hanging around another person, you don’t want to hurt anyone. Plus, there’s Violet to consider. You’d hate to upset her too when she’s just barely getting over a long-lasting crush rejecting her.

Is fooling around just you leading someone on, though? You’re not sure if Lav got the wrong impression from you. Hell, you don’t even know what impression you were trying to make. You just wanted to feel good with someone you trust. You wanted to see her because…

You heave a sigh and decide to take your mind off of this all now. Rather than linger in the gym, you head out of it and opt to rejoin the twins, to see how they’re doing with Blue. By now, you’re sure she’s given up on her drawing entirely to focus on the two red-clothed siblings.

Upon entering the room, you find the trio sitting at Blue’s table while drawing again. Blue seems not to have been too put off by the twins’ appearance to stop drawing as you thought, only you notice she’s got her drawing tilted toward herself on some flat, sturdy object she’s balancing on her bent arm. The three don’t notice you at first until you finally opt to approach them, upon which they give their usual greetings.

You spend the rest of the day with the three Numbers, not really drawing on your own with how bad at it you are. You instead watch the others as they work, occasionally finding yourself entertained by the sillier doodles the twins make with the game they played last time you were here with them. They make a variety of creatures, unusual amalgamations of animal parts.

“Did you see Lav?” Blue questions suddenly in the midst of your observation, shaking you from your focus. Leaning on the table with one elbow, holding your head in your hand, you glance at the baby blue young woman and notice she hasn’t bothered to look up from her work.

“Yeah,” you respond simply, almost blushing as you recount the feeling of Lav’s lips upon yours. “We talked for a bit before she got called away. I didn’t see Cyrus though. I just came straight here.”

“He was still meditating even after you left the cafeteria,” Two speaks up. “We went to check on him again after a while of sitting around here to see if he wanted to join us, but he was still doing his thing.”

You raise a brow. “Do you know how his hands were positioned?”

“Uh, I think his hands were curled or something,” Three answers for her brother, tapping her pencil on her chin. “But that’s all I remember.”

The only mudra you can recall looking that way was one Cyrus had said was for concentration and a restless mind. You figure then that he really did have a bad reaction to what Violet had to say. At least he’s trying to contain and make sense of it in his own way. Still, you can’t help but feel bad for your friend.

You continue to hang around the crafts room, but do break after a while to go get dinner with the trio. Nobody else really seems to have come by, though you take the opportunity to introduce Blue to Charlie while in the cafeteria. She seems genuinely surprised that you found a way to communicate, but doesn’t much like having to ask yes or no questions only, even if she’s aware of the limitations. You suppose it’s just because she’s so chatty that the limitation which you can personally work around only hinders her conversational capacity.

Again, you rejoin in the crafts room after dinner and let Blue continue with her drawing while the twins take a brief nap on the floor. Unsurprisingly, they’re cuddlers, but Blue weirdly doesn’t bat an eye to this. Perhaps she just chalks it up to siblings being siblings.

You fiddle around with construction paper yourself just to pass the time. The peaceful respite from today’s events gives you more of a chance to think about Lav. You almost wonder who it was that called her to a visit, but figure it’s best not to think about it hard enough that you envision the worst. Though, you can’t say you’re not disappointed that you two didn’t get to fool around a bit even for as shy as you were when trying to do so. It's not that you hadn't wanted to or were hesitant. You just weren't sure how to proceed. Hopefully you’ll have the courage to try it again later.

Eventually, the intercom again goes off and signals the end of the day. You let everyone go first, staying behind to clean up the table a bit for reasons you’re not sure of. Maybe it’s just an instinctual need to keep things tidy. It could easily also be a desire to have more time to think to yourself, or a desire to avoid your doctor a little longer. Though, you’re sure that’s impossible to do. He’ll likely come in here to get you if you linger long enough, so you eventually do make your way out and meet with the man.

The hall has been cleared by now, and even the two women are still in the office with the door only partially open. Having to deal with Monica is likely keeping Mom from approaching Yosuke as she had appeared to want to earlier. You’re none too pleased to see your doctor standing by the hall and awaiting your arrival with his familiar gentle smile plastered on his face. The break you had from him had been nice, and you find yourself realizing how much you needed it now that you’re faced with him again. For as much as you don’t trust Nathaniel because he’s a doctor, you’d much rather have had him stick around with you. But nothing can be done about it now.

Yosuke pets your head gently when you’ve begrudgingly made your way over to him, though his smile fades slightly when he examines you more closely. He stops petting you and lifts up your hand, curling his fingers under yours and examining your wrist closely. Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re still wearing Lav’s hairband, and it promptly sinks when Yosuke’s brows lower as he observes the thing. With a slightly firm voice, he asks you,

“Dear, where did you get this?”

Chapter 54: Visit Twenty Five - Power

Don’t panic, you tell yourself. Don’t let him see you panic.

Yosuke subtly tilts his head, his face focused squarely on you as he awaits your response. Despite your rising worry, you try to keep yourself composed and your expression unmoved. You can’t much do anything to control your heart rate, but as long as Yosuke doesn’t touch your wrist or neck, you’re sure he won’t notice it.

“I spent time with the girls today,” you try to explain. There’s no way he could say this is false since you really did hang out with some of them. “We got together and tried messing with each other’s hair to see what we’d look like with it up.”

Even if this is a lie, you try to hide this fact with two truths. You tug your hand away and pout, giving the second cushioning statement. “I forgot to give one of them their hairband back. It’s not a big deal.”

Yosuke says nothing for a moment, still watching your face intently. However, he then smiles slightly again and runs his fingers delicately through your hair.

“It’s grown quite a bit since you first arrived,” he notes of it. His lack of addressing your statement, which would make it clearer whether or not he believes you, is almost as frightening and unsettling as being outright told he knows you’re lying. But for now, he seems to remain at bay and unbothered by your reaction. Did you finally trick him? You’re still wary, but continue to play along. If your visit with Nathaniel did anything, it kept you privy to the importance of playing a role. Nathaniel had implied acting and lying are similar, or at least intertwined. Each requires the other. You may not be the best at it, but you can’t let anyone know that, or else the illusion is broken.

“Well, don’t be shy, my pet,” Yosuke chuckles. “Show me.”

“What?” The sudden request takes you aback. Yosuke remains unmoved by your confusion. If he is suspicious, he’s hiding any trace of the reaction from his visage

“Put your hair up for me,” he clarifies, his voice still ever calm. “I’d like to see how it looks on you.”

Do you even know how? You’re not entirely sure. But as you sheepishly bundle up whatever hair you can and reach back with the hairband, you find it hardly difficult to do what your doctor asked. It’s almost second nature. Perhaps you’ve done this in the past, but you’re not about to think about or question it now. The recalled motor skills have saved you this time.

You tie your hair up as best you can with what’s loose. You’ve not ever styled it this way while at the facility, so your scalp feels a bit tight as your hair is tugged slightly back from the roots, even if the tugging loosens when you let whatever remaining hair you have hang.

Once you’ve finished, you put your hands down and look up at Yosuke with a light pout, as if to say, “Told you”. Yosuke merely looks on at you with the same smile plastered on his face, though he trails his hand along the top of your head to pet you gently.

“Even like this, you look adorable,” he teases, though he promptly moves his hand further down toward the hairband and undoes it shortly after examining you. Much to your unease, he holds onto the thing rather than give it back to you. “But I like it this way better. In any case, let’s get you to bed, shall we? ”

You say nothing more in your unease and walk behind your doctor as he leads you to your room. It surprises you little that he enters with you rather than staying by the entrance as he usually does. You’re a bit meek and slow to catch onto things at times, but you’re privy to some of his wiles by now. You know what he’s intending.

“What do you want?” You ask him straightforwardly, refusing to turn around while you stand by your bed. You hear the bedroom door shut behind you, followed by a light, throated chuckled from Yosuke.

“Am I not allowed to spend time with you now?” He questions cheekily. You scowl.

“I know what ‘spending time with you’ means, Yosuke,” you remind him, turning yourself around to face the man. “Just get it over with.”

You just barely glimpse it before immediately trying to focus your eyes on your doctor’s face to avoid seeming suspicious, but you notice that Yosuke’s slipped Lav’s hairband on his right wrist now. Evidently, he has no intention of letting you keep it.

“My, don’t sound so eager,” Yosuke teases you. He folds his arms and stares at you from the entrance of your room, smiling casually. “But if you really want me to take you right away, I’d be more than happy to play with you now, my dear.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you respond to him sharply. “Stop trying to tease me.”

“There’s no need to be so hostile, my pet,” Yosuke chuckles. “Honestly. Your face will stay the way it is if you keep making it like that.”

You look away and don’t respond. Your doctor, however, has no problem carrying the conversation on his own.

“I certainly hope Nathaniel treated you well,” he says, changing the subject briefly. “I trust him. He’s not the kind to hurt our guests unless he absolutely has to.”

He tilts his head but says nothing, awaiting your response. You only really mutter back,

“He was okay.”

Yosuke’s kind smile remains intact as he speaks of the man. “He spoke fondly of you when we met in the hall before you came out. I’m grateful that he accepted the task of taking care of you in my stead. But I’m sure you missed me.”

“Not really.”

Your doctor ignores this bitter sentiment of yours. “Marcellus kept popping into my office today. I couldn’t leave for a second without him coming in to deliver paperwork or trailing me around. I assume he was playing games with me. He’s waiting for a reason to divulge what he knows. Though, I know it’s coming sooner or later. He’ll get bored eventually and say it anyway. Or my superior will notice first. He’s been busy, as I’ve said, but that won’t last forever. He’ll have a chance to find out. He does designate time to dig for things.”

You glance up at Yosuke and comment, “If you go away, Mom might try to go after me again.”

“Possibly,” your doctor doesn’t refute this whatsoever. “She won’t hurt you, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t exactly be pleased to see her act out again. I may not be able to retaliate as freely as I had before with a fresh strike against me, but I’ll certainly give her a firm word.”

“Whether you can depends on what your boss does to you,” you point out with a low voice. “I’m sure he could silence you or break your limbs. Anything, really.”

“Would it satisfy you to see me incapacitated?” Yosuke raises a brow. You hesitate a moment, but ultimately shake your head.

“I don’t like the idea of seeing people get hurt in general,” you admit. “I wouldn’t be upset because I give a shit about you, but because I don’t like having to witness it in any way. You’ve seen what it does to me.”

Yosuke seems to understand your implication, but says nothing and finally makes his way toward you. He takes a few steps forward until he’s in front of you, upon which he unfolds his arms and watches as you continue to look down. Gently, he runs his fingers loosely along your cheek and down toward under your chin.

“You needn’t worry about me,” he coos. “I know that you do, even if you won’t admit to it. Even if you want to say you hate me.”

You widen your eyes slightly, but avoid glancing at Yosuke’s face to try reading his expression.

“I read what you wrote, Ten,” he admits lowly. “I’m sure you knew I would. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t write such hurtful things. I know you don’t have it in you to be hateful.”

You finally flicker your eyes up at Yosuke’s olive gaze and lower your brows. But before you can open your mouth in protest, Yosuke firmly presses his thumb against your lips to stop you.

“You’re going to say, ‘you don’t know me’ right?” He smirks. You blush in embarrassment at this assumption which, unfortunately, is correct. Yosuke leans in closer to your face and laughs softly, his breath hitting you. “You’d like to think I don’t, but I’ve been with you long enough to know just how you are. And, as you’ve said, you’ve come to understand me as well. I don’t think you can read me as easily as you wish you could, however. Even now, you’re not sure what to expect from me, even when you think you do.”

You again look away, and shut your eyes a moment as you feel your doctor sweetly peck at your cheek with his lips. Moving then to your ear, he whispers,

“Take your clothes off for me, pet. If you’re in that much of a hurry to be fucked.”

Again, you open your eyes and glance back at the man as he pulls away from you and drops his hand. He watches you expectantly, though starts to remove his coat and puts it on the desk chair nearby.

“I’d prefer not to rip them off,” your doctor says almost impatiently. “Not this time, anyway. I don’t much feel like going to fetch you fresh clothes after working so much today. My feet are tired. But if I have to force you, I will.”

You don’t want to have to indulge his order, but simultaneously want to get your visit over with. Sheepishly, you bring your hands to the hem of your gown, pulling it slowly over yourself until you’ve successfully tugged it off. Without letting Yosuke have a chance to remind you to fully undress, you then move to tug your panties off until your body is fully exposed for him. You let both articles of clothing fall to the floor and stand there awaiting your doctor’s next order.

“Stand against the wall,” he commands. You silently do so and back up until you’re pressed against the wall, standing somewhere between your desk and bed. Yosuke merely chuckles as he watches you, but wastes no time and moves in close to you without a second thought. He presses his left hand against the wall to prevent you from ducking away, while the other with the hairband around its wrist gently grabs your chin and guides it forward so that you’re forced to face the man.

“You’re blushing quite heavily now,” Yosuke observes, still smiling cheekily. “And you’re suddenly so silent. Where’s that earlier sharpness of yours, dear?”

He swipes a thumb sweetly over your lips when you don’t respond, but drops his hand promptly after. He instead takes the thing and wraps it firmly around your wrist, then guides your hand to his crotch.

“Feel it,” he instructs. You glance down nervously and hesitate to follow his order. But you do eventually press your hand against the fabric of Yosuke’s pants and feel his dick from behind it. The phallus is stiff and hard.

“Already…?” You remark hesitantly. Yosuke laughs softly into your ear.

“You entice me, my pet,” he practically whispers. He then guides your hand up to his belt buckle, and you feel your fingers press lightly against the cold metal of it.

“Undo this for me,” Yosuke bids you again. “All of it.”

You again hesitate, but try to comply nonetheless. With both hands you move to unbuckle your doctor’s belt. The metal parts of it clink lightly together as you do so. Your heart beats faster as you’re forced to undress your doctor’s lower body, and your knees grow weak at the inevitability of his using you without mercy. You merely look on as you expose Yosuke’s underwear, though he doesn’t let you stop there.

“Pull them down,” he instructs. Again, you do as told, though you avoid looking at your doctor’s fleshy member as you carry out your task. Yosuke smirks at your hesitancy, but now guides your hand up to your mouth and asks you to wet your palm and fingers. You look up at the man with lowered brows, but indulge his order and lick your hand thoroughly with a bitter expression plastered on your face. Once you’ve finished, Yosuke guides your hand to his warm, erect phallus.

“Hold it,” he instructs, and you follow. You wrap your moistened fingers around the thing, with your thumb pressed against the underside of his cock and your digits atop the overside. Yosuke moves in closer to you now, bending his arm and pressing his forearm against the wall with his hand. He guides his tip and presses it lightly against your lower abdomen. His precum drips on your flesh, much to your dismay.

“You know what to do next,” Yosuke tells you, giving your cheek a light kiss. “Make me come.”

“I don’t want to.”

Yosuke leans into your ear. “I’m not leaving until you do as I say.”

Instinctively, you turn your head away from the feeling of his breath against your ear, but otherwise can’t do much else to stop what’s happening. Giving up, you move your hand along your doctor’s shaft, jerking it slowly up and down. You occasionally stop to press your thumb between your stomach and the underside of Yosuke’s tip to massage and tease it. Your doctor breathes lustily in your ear as you pleasure him, his fingers curling against the wall he’s pressed on. He brings his other hand to your waist and grips the side of it firmly as you toy with his dick. You feel disgusting doing it, but try to work your doctor well enough to satisfy him.

Yosuke occasionally gives light moans in your ear and licks it sweetly as your jerking of his shaft turns him on further. You can’t help but blush at these noises and the feeling of his wet tongue against your ear.

“Faster,” he instructs with a harsh whisper after a while of enduring your gentler speed. You do as told and pick up your pace, working the man’s shaft just as he wants you to and causing his breaths to become more rapid and prominent. Yosuke grips your waist more firmly now, sinking the pads of his fingers into your flesh as his arousal grows. After a while, he starts to groan and grunt subtly into your ear.

“That’s it,” he breathes, praising you endearingly. “Keep going.”

Having found a rhythm he wants, you continue jerking your doctor off until you feel his warm, fleshy member pulsing and throbbing lightly in your hand. In moments, a spurt of warm cum splashes against your stomach, coating you with its stickiness. Yosuke gives out one last groan as he releases his load onto you, and when he’s done coming, you lower your hand from his shaft and drop it to your side.

A bit of cum dribbles down your fingers. Coupled with the sensation of warm semen on your stomach, It sends a wave of disgust over you. Yosuke hasn’t even started fucking you and you already feel used.

The man watches you with his olive eyes from behind the frames of his glasses, giving a coy smile with pleasure at your hesitant and disgusted reaction to him. Without a warning, he drops his hand on your waist and moves it down your thigh. Promptly, he lifts your leg up and opens your lower body to him, exposing your pussy. He eyes the thing from behind his square frames and smirks.

“You want to criticize me for getting hard so soon when you’re already wet from something so simple,” he teases. “Or is it the mere anticipation of my touch that leaves you so eager?”

You look away and scowl, but say nothing in response. Your face has grown phenomenally red, and your cheeks hot. You don’t like being this way, but can’t do much about how your body responds to your doctor.

“Clean your hand, dear,” Yosuke gently urges you, noticing your wet palm. “Or you’ll get it all over the floor.”

You wince when you realize what he means for you to do, and hesitantly bring your palm and fingers up to your mouth. You promptly start licking them of your doctor’s sticky cum with a displeased look on your face. It’s taste is unfortunately familiar: musky and warm, and just slightly salty. You almost want to gag doing this. It’s one thing to swallow a load when it’s being rammed down your throat forcibly. It’s another to lick it off the flesh entirely. That only forces you to fully taste the flavor of the milky white substance. Unsurprisingly, Yosuke watches you with tender focus to make sure you clean your hand fully of his cum as instructed. He almost looks aroused watching you lap his juices up with your tongue like an animal.

Once you’ve finished, your doctor smirks again and murmurs,

“Wrap your arms around me, pet. Hold yourself steady while I take you.”

He squeezes the underside of your thigh as he says this, making you just lightly whimper. You didn’t expect him to do it, nor do you understand why it made you react that way. Still, you silently do as told and avoid eye contact with Yosuke while you wrap your arms around his neck to relieve the weight on your leg. Chuckling lightly through his throat, Yosuke then guides his cock toward your labia and pushes past the folds so that he can slide himself into you. The slow feeling of his wet tip penetrating you causes you to grip the man tightly and grit your teeth. You might have been wet, but your doctor didn’t do much to prepare you this time, so it still takes a moment to adjust to his cock.

Yosuke chuckles again, more breathily this time. “You’re tight, my dear. It feels lovely.”

He again squeezes the underside of your thigh as he pushes his way through you, grunting lightly as he does so and listening eagerly as you groan in response to his entry. After a while, he’s fully managed to enter you, and he stands there a moment, resting his hard member inside you. This only forces you to fully feel it inside your body, to focus on it in embarrassment.

“I’m going to start moving,” he eventually tells you, leaning his head closer to yours once more with his lips positioned by your ear. “Hold on tight, darling.”

Slowly, he pulls back before thrusting forcefully into your body again. The sudden feeling of his entry again makes you cry out, and you can only accept the man’s thrusting into you as he continues to repeat the motion a few more times. Once he feels that you’ve adjusted to him, he starts to pump into you more rhythmically while gripping your thigh firmly to hold you open. He again curls his fingers against the wall, and you hear him give a pleasured series of pants and light grunts as he fucks you.

“You’re warm,” he remarks breathily, giving you a hard kiss on your cheek as he continues thrusting against you. “And that twisted face you’re making…it’s precious.”

“S-shut up…!” you try to shoot back, though your words turn to whimpers and groans as Yosuke pushes forcefully into you again. In this position, you can feel his skin pressing against your clit with every full thrust, stimulating you further and further the more your doctor toys with you.

You blush and gasp as he again begins to nip at and trail your ear using his tongue as he takes you. All you can really do is hold tightly onto him and let your head hang back as he works you. Being so close to his head now, you can smell his cologne more clearly, its odor still strong and hardly faded even after a long day of wear. Even for as little as you want this, Yosuke’s scent, and the feeling of his wet thrusts into your pussy are almost hypnotic. Your body wants only to focus on the pleasure now, even though you don’t want to give your doctor the satisfaction of seeing you accept him. It’s enough that you can’t do much but follow his orders, but feeling like you want to be fucked is always much worse.

As Yosuke continues to pump and grind against you, more excited noises escape your throat. This only makes your doctor laugh.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you, my pet?” He teases into your ear, breathing heavily into it just after. “Just hold it a little longer. Then you can come.”

“I don’t…need your permission…!” you pant, gripping the back of Yosuke’s shirt tightly. He merely smirks.

“I won’t let you come at all if you don’t wait,” he warns playfully. “Be good, dear.”

You groan as he fucks you more, the wetness between your legs leaving your skin slick and making you feel filthy, even if a bit lusty. Your breasts bob lightly with each buck and grind against your body, and your insides feel hotter the longer you’re ridden. You can’t take much more of this, but you try your best to contain yourself so that you don’t have to be shirked of your pleasure.

Yosuke eventually pulls his head away from yours and watches your face intently while you gasp and cry at being pounded into and pressed against the wall. He relishes in your attempt to contain your lust, watching pleasurably as you fight not to come only so that you get the chance to feel something and get a reward out of being used like this. It vexes you to be watched by Yosuke’s lingering eyes, and you shut your own so that you don’t have to look at him.

Yosuke continues to fuck you until he’s at his peak. He doesn’t much have to warn you this time, as you can tell merely by the way he quickly and intensely breathes that he’s about to release his load inside of you. Without bothering to announce it, Yosuke presses his lips firmly against yours as his dick pulses once more. Just after, he gives a heavy, throated grunt into your mouth before you feel his semen spilling into your cunt, filling it warmly. Finally able to let go, you respond with a whining cry into your doctor’s lips as he ejaculates into you, even lightly grinding against him out of habit with your pleasure at its highest point.

Your head presses firmly back against the wall, though Yosuke doesn’t once let your lips get away from him as he finishes up inside of you. As your pleasure slowly subsides and you helplessly let Yosuke’s cum settle inside of your body, your cries dilute into light whimpers and weak moans. Your eyes weakly open as you melt in the heat of Yosuke’s body against yours unwillingly.

The man pulls away from your mouth finally, a light trail of saliva extending from both your lips for just a split second before breaking. You try to breathe in recovery, but Yosuke looks at you sharply a moment before steadying your thigh in his hand. Removing his other arm from its placement against the wall, he drops it down to your waist and holds you close to him before carrying you away from the wall. He turns to lay you down along the side of the bed. You gasp as he carries you, partially because his cock moves around slightly inside of you as he does, and partially out of surprise at the sudden movement.

Yosuke presses your back against the mattress and drops your leg, letting it fall over the edge of the bed. He then raises both his hands toward his back and grabs each of your wrists, pulling them away from his body and pinning them lightly against the comforter. You glance at the man worriedly, unsure of what he’s trying to do.

“Ten,” he speaks up, still somewhat trying to catch his breath. He focuses his olive eyes straight on your face, though his smile is gone. “Whose is it?”

The question takes you aback, and you struggle to really answer at first as you’re still sucking in breath in recovery from your climax.

“Wh…what?” You ask. Yosuke tightens his grip on your wrists slightly.

“Who gave you the hairband?” He clarifies his question for you without hesitation, his eyes unwavering in their focus of you. His inquiry only makes your heart skip yet another beat. But it’s not as if it means anything, right? It’s probably curiosity. Or at least that’s what you’d like to think. You honestly don’t like where this is going.

“I tried to put it out of my mind, you know. But I couldn’t help thinking about it while toying with you,” your doctor goes on. He lightly presses his thumbs against the underside of your turned wrists, still watching you with focus.

“W-what difference does it make?!” You stammer back at him, lowering your brows. Is being defensive a good idea now? You’ve been so before, so maybe it’s not entirely out of character for you. But maybe your stammering did little to put on a convincing show. You scorn yourself for the slip-up. It’s more incriminating than just a mere glance away or a turn of your head.

Yosuke merely watches you closely a moment before pulling his lower body away from you and promptly thrusting into you forcefully again, making you wince and grunt. Your doctor doesn’t repeat the motion just yet, instead staying still inside you and letting a smile curve back on his face.

“I only want to know,” he tries to assure you sweetly. “But if you like, I can easily infer it. Shall we go down the list of young women in your group? I know which ones wear their hair up sometimes.”

“N-no!” you grunt again as the man pumps his cock into you once more before settling down again.

“In fact, as I recall it, only three of the girls were there today.”

“Stop it!”

Yosuke smirks and again thrusts powerfully into you, making you gasp. He then stops and leans into your ear.

“Three’s not really your type, is she?”

You moan helplessly as your doctor pumps his cock into you once more. He finds delight in your twisted, pleasurable response to the sensation of his slowly pumping into you.

“And well, from what I’ve heard, Four’s not the kind of girl to experiment,” Yosuke goes on, still watching you knowingly. He pulls out of you just slightly before ramming his dick back into you and making you squirm.

“Nothing happened between us!” You cry out, letting your words turn into moans as your doctor pumps into you one more time in the midst of your statement. He stares at you for a moment, intensely, before sighing.

“I suppose you’re telling the truth,” he says somewhat quietly. “Do you like women after all? Were you experimenting?”

“I don’t know,” you whimper, turning your head away from your doctor’s watchful eye.

“I suppose I don’t much blame you for the curiosity,” Yosuke chuckles. He lets go of one of your wrists and drops his hand to your breast, trailing your skin delicately as he works his fingers down toward it. “The female form is alluring in a way far different than the male form. Gentle. Sweet. It’s hard to resist it. Even women themselves can’t much help their curiosity. Your mother can attest to that. Even Lilah, though she sees more beauty in pain regardless of sex than she does in sex itself.”

He paws at your breast then, rolling and pressing it in his fingers. You try to pull his hand away by wrapping your own around his wrist, but find it difficult to pry him away.

“I suppose Nine’s not a bad choice for a Number,” he coyly remarks. “The other girls are too bland. Someone like her can at least hold her own. Though, from what I can remember of your friend, she wasn’t much my type.”

You grunt as you continue struggling to get Yosuke’s hand away from you.

“Because you don’t like women who can genuinely fight back!” You spit out. “You just want to be in control of another person, and when you can’t have your way, you leave!”

Yosuke stops the motion of his hand and glances at you a moment, expressionless. Finally, he lets go of your breast, and your fingers slip away from his wrist as he raises his arm and slaps you hard across the cheek. This makes you freeze a moment with wide eyes as you try to assess what’s just happened. Slowly, you bring your free hand to your left cheek and turn your head toward Yosuke. With a fearful look in your eye, you glance up at him and part your lips without letting any words leave them. Even with the stinging sensation on your skin, you can’t feel the pain. All you can register is your heart pounding furiously.

Yosuke doesn’t appear the least bit remorseful for this action, nor does he give any evident expression of anger. He merely watches you with his olive eyes.

“Don’t patronize me, Ten,” he tells you firmly, wrapping his hand around your wrist and tugging it away from your cheek so that he can pin it back against the bed. “I’ve been hard-pressed to find someone that I care enough about to stick with. You know that. But that’s beside the point. The fact of the matter is that you upset me by lying to me. I told you not to.”

You wince at this, realizing your effort to evade your doctor’s reading of you was ultimately fruitless.

“Why does it matter so much to you anyway?” You demand. You try to keep up your resilience, but being hit by your doctor has shaken you just enough for you to feel weak beneath him again. Even so, you try to keep speaking your mind, feeling that you’d be showing your weakness further if you don’t at least try to.

“You said you wouldn’t be offended if I focused on what made me happy,” you point out. “But you were the one lying to me. You didn’t like the idea of me hanging around with One or even Eight, even if you said they were insignificant to you. If you really didn’t care, why would it matter that I care about anyone at all other than you?”

Yosuke tilts his head.

“That statement only implies that you care about me even a little,” he points out. He then frowns. “And them.”

Your eyes slightly widen, but you immediately look away. “N-no…”

Your doctor merely expels a bit of breath in a light sigh and says nothing in response for a moment. The brief silence between you is discomforting, but it eventually passes when the man atop you finds the words he wants to say.

“I didn’t lie to you, Ten,” Yosuke tightens his grip on your wrist as he says this. “I want you to be happy. But I have to be firm with you too. You have to be taught constantly that you’re mine because you always seem to forget.”

The man pulls back and thrusts hard against you once more, and he grins as you squirm beneath him. His more serious visage is again replaced by a coy and playful one.

“But it doesn’t take much to remind you, it seems,” he remarks, lavishing in your reaction to his body. Even in the midst of your fear, you feel yourself enduring pleasure that you don’t want. You can’t stand it. You’re highly aware of every bit of your doctor’s phallus inside of you, the wetness between your legs, and the heat of Yosuke’s body as it holds you down. You don’t want to confuse this feeling of fear with pleasure. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you did.

You try to focus on the topic at hand, wanting to take your concentration away from the bodily sensations you’re enduring.

“And what if I were to care about them the way you think I do?” You question. “You can’t touch them. You’ll get in trouble with their doctors and your boss.”

Yosuke chuckles as he leans into your ear.

“I could keep you from them if I like,” he tells you sweetly, making your eyes widen. “If you want to see what it’s like to be a real prisoner, I could easily lock you up in your room like one if I sensed you starting to stray too far from me. Make it so that you only see me.”

“N-no,” you try to dispute this. “You’d get in trouble. Your boss wouldn’t even let Lilah keep Eight locked up for no reason.”

“I’ll find a way, my dear,” Yosuke’s only response. “I’m resourceful that way. I will always do what I can to make sure you don’t get too distracted. You’re mine.”

When you don’t respond in your fearful state and uncertainty on what to say, Yosuke breathes out his nose as if to sigh. He then pulls back from your ear and hovers atop you. Again, he drops his hand from one of your wrists and instead brings it sweetly to your chin, curling his fingers underneath it.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ten,” he tries to be assuring now, using a low, gentle tone. “But I do have to be firm with you, and that may sometimes include being hutful. But you know that I do what I do because I love you. If I left you to your own devices and didn’t try to be present for you, I’d be a poor caretaker.”

You say nothing and drop your eyes to the side. Yosuke gently rubs his thumb over your lips.

“I am sorry for hitting you, my dearest,” he coos. “I won’t ever do it again. While I’m still inside you, let me finish letting you feel good to make up for it. We’ll discuss your punishment afterward.”

Your eyes slightly widen at this remark, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything more. There’s a present dread in your heart that you can’t shake now that you realize you still have to endure something awful as punishment for lying. You’re not sure what the man has in store for you, but you wonder if it’s really any worse than being forced to give yourself up to him under the influence of a drug, or being raped while unable to move. Then again, is knowing you’re helpless and failing to fight back any more luxurious than blindly accepting, and even wanting it? Does it really make you stronger?

The only bit of self-assurance you can give yourself is knowing that your doctor’s options are limited right now. Though, if he has little access to anything outside your room, the only thing you can think of him doing is physically hurting you, and this only causes your heart to beat faster. Even if Yosuke said he didn’t want to hurt you, you know for sure he can if he thinks he has to.

Whatever it is you’re feeling now, it’s replaced with the sensation of pleasure that starts to pick up again as Yosuke continues to thrust into you. Despite having had every opportunity to hit him back for what he did and said while his hand was busy gripping your chin, you’d remained still underneath him and hesitated to act. Now, it’s too late to. Yosuke has again wrapped his fingers tightly around your wrist and pressed his weight onto you, ensuring that you take every bit of his lustful pumping into your body, regardless of whether you want it or not.

Yosuke smiles to himself as he watches your face morph from fearful to pleasured as he works your body. You feel warmth wrapping all around you, tightly gripping your body now rather than settling peacefully. You can’t stand this. Even worse is that you’re starting to let out a slew of pants and moans with every forceful thrust. It feels good. You don’t want it to feel good.

“Look at me, my pet,” Yosuke urges you. While he was commanding before, he tries to be sweet just for now. You’re sure once he finishes inside of you this time, he’ll go back to his other tone.

You hesitate to turn your head back toward your doctor as he continues to buck and hump against you, wetly pumping his cock in and out of your body. Looking him in the eye now is too difficult, but you try to do as asked to avoid him forcing you to. Slowly, you turn your head back to Yosuke and watch his olive eyes as they remain fixated on you. He pants and grunts a few times as he rides you, and again, his breath hits your face. However, he smiles through his breaths as he watches you.

“You always react so much more strongly when you can’t fight back,” He points out with delight. “It’s precious.”

You want to shoot a bitter remark back at him for such a crude comment. You’re sure he’s getting back at you for your offending statement earlier by mocking you now. However, it’s hard for you to muster any words, and you can only let more moans slip from your throat and lips as you feel Yosuke’s dick sliding in and out of you. His crotch rubs against your clit with each deep thrust, stimulating you further. Your lower body remains utterly wet and leaves you with a sense of disgust. You just want it to end, even for as good as it feels.

Seeing that you’re struggling to talk back, Yosuke gives you a simple but forceful kiss, pressing his lips against yours as he breathes heavily through his nose between each sloppy pump. Afterwards, he pulls away and chuckles.

“Your pussy is making so many wet noises, my pet,” he remarks between his pants. “By the frustrated look on your face, I can tell you want to deny how good this feels. You have always tried to. But you and I know both you’re a terrible liar. Even your body can’t help but reveal the truth to me.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything back to him and merely lie there as you’re used, letting your whining moans fill the air. Yosuke only makes it worse by leaning into your neck and giving it a few nips and licks. He starts from your nape and trails up to just beneath your ear, which he stops to nibble at. This act only makes you cry out and gasp more loudly, your face growing hotter as you feel blood rushing to your cheeks. You feel your lower body aching to burst with all these sensations holding it hostage at once.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you dear?” Yosuke breathily laughs in your ear. “You’re desperate for me to pump you with more of my cum. Even in your frustration with and fear of me, you want to be filled with my warmth.”

You again turn your head away instinctively, but this only makes it easier for Yosuke to play with your ear and neck. He slurps and laps at your skin hungrily as he breathes fiercely through his nose. As he eventually starts to reach his peak, he picks up his thrusting pace and tightens his grip on your wrists.

“I’m going to come,” he pants. “Come with me, my pet. If you don’t, I’ll punish you more severely.”

You wince, but try to focus on the feeling of your doctor’s cock inside of you to try climaxing with him. This isn’t all too hard since you already felt ready to let go, but somehow being made more self-aware of the dire need to do as he says makes it seem like it’s difficult to.

Soon, you feel Yosuke’s phallus throbbing inside you, and your doctor promptly gives a loud series of grunts and groans as he starts to ejaculate inside you, pumping even more of his milky cum into your pussy. The warm spurting feeling only adds to your pleasure, and you follow your doctor’s pleasurable lead shortly after. You cry out loudly and tremble as you come, rolling your hips eagerly against the man out of habit as your body craves nothing but to feel good. Your hands ball into fists and your toes curl as your widely spread legs hang loosely over the edge of the bed.

Yosuke continues to thrust strongly for a while as he comes, burying his seed deep into your cunt and continuing to linger on the skin of your neck with his lips. His powerful breaths which he expels from his nose only hit your cheek and ear fiercely as he finishes up inside of you. After a moment, your squirms slow gradually, until you are unable to bring yourself to move any more. Yosuke, however, seems to still have a few more bits of lust inside of him as he thrusts a few more times into you and groans lowly from his throat.

Gradually, he slows his movements and noises to a halt, until his orgasm has fully ebbed. Once done, Yosuke slowly pulls away from your neck and lets your wrists go. Still enveloped in warmth, you can’t bring yourself to move right now and simply lay there, your chest rising and falling deeply as you suck in more recovering breaths. Yosuke brings a hand to your cheek and smiles.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you, pet?” he questions gently with a gently voice. “That’s more than enough to make up for a light slap.”

When you say nothing, Yosuke places his hand then on your stomach, and the other on the bed to steady himself. Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving a dribbling trail of cum from your pussy once he’s fully pulled away.

“My, what a mess,” he remarks with a polite laugh as he examines your sullied cunt. You don’t want to think about how it looks now, full of cum. You can already feel how sticky and wet it is from where you are, and this is only amplified by the cool air hitting against your crotch now that your doctor isn’t atop your body to keep it warm.

Yosuke pulls his hand away from your stomach and reaches down to where his pants have fallen to try grabbing something from its pockets. When you glance wearily down, you notice that it’s tissue.

“We’re still not done,” your doctor remarks as he begins to gently wipe your thighs and pussy of his milky cum. He presses his other hand against your right inner thigh as he does this, in order to keep you from closing your legs. “But I’d feel bad dirtying your bed this way when you have to sleep in it. My only focus is dirtying you, after all.”

Your eyes and eyebrows lightly lower in a pitiful attempt at a scowl. You’re still too busy trying to recover your strength. Even now, you still have your arms above you, despite nothing keeping them there anymore. Realizing that your fists are still clenched, you unfurl your hands now.

Once Yosuke has finished wiping you off enough for cum not to be dripping from you, he straightens himself up and moves to your bathroom to dispose of the tissue. While he’s gone, you shut your legs and finally try to sit up, going steadily. Doing so feels strange, and even with your pussy having been slightly cleaned, it still feels phenomenally dirty.

Yosuke eventually returns with a few more bits of tissue, some wet and some dry, and places them somewhere on the bed for later use. He then takes your pillow and places it down close to the edge of the bed, right next to you. Once he’s done this, he stands before you. Upon looking down to avoid gazing directly at him, you realize that he’d completely removed his pants and shoes somewhere in the midst of his prior activity. They’re on the floor now.

Your doctor merely lifts your chin up when he sees your head hanging. When you finally catch sight of his face, he’s no longer smiling. He doesn’t seem mad either, rather neutral.

“I’m glad that I could make you feel good, my dear,” he speaks up. “But I still have to punish my pet for misbehaving. I’m limited in here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything to you.”

You say nothing as your hands start to shake slightly. They feel clammy all of a sudden.

“Lay on your stomach and spread your legs,” Yosuke instructs you. He drops his hand from your chin and moves to undo his tie. When you hesitate, he speaks up more firmly. “I won’t ask you again.”

You grimace, but follow his order and move yourself over the pillow, which you presume he put there for you to use. You lay flat on your stomach, with only your lower body slightly elevated because of the plush thing beneath it. Your legs hang over the bed once more, and you fold your arms before your head to clutch them tightly, both as a means of steadying yourself, and as a means of self-comfort.

You continue to lightly tremble as you await your doctor’s next move. Rather than touch you right away, he brings his tie, which has been folded and layered in his hand, toward your face.

“Put this in your mouth,” he instructs. You merely look at the thing in confusion. Again, your lack of action prompts your doctor to speak. “It’s not to silence you, pet. You might need it.”

His words are harrowing to you, but you hardly have the chance to reflect on them or figure out what he’s intending to do before he acts. At that moment, you feel his finger press past the cheeks of your butt and against your anus. You gasp and dart your eyes to the side as you feel the uncomfortable sensation, even if it’s a familiar one by now.

“What are you-“

Despite finally speaking up again, Yosuke shoves the cloth of his tie into your open mouth and turns your words into muffled protests. To make sure that you don’t spit the thing out, He holds his hand over your mouth to keep the tie in place, pressing it in further so that it wedges between your teeth and lightly brushes your tongue.

“I’d wanted to try this with you myself after Gale eased you into it,” Yosuke speaks up as he continues to massage your asshole. “But I was made aware that you disliked this sort of thing. I respectfully refrained from doing it with you and focusing on the sorts of things I know you like, Ten. But I suppose it’s time I try it.”

He lightly chuckles. “It’s unfortunate that it has to be as a punishment. But it is what it is since you were naughty. I’d spent time teaching you the importance of being honest with me, and you went and lied anyway.”

Yosuke sticks his finger into your ass then, making you whimper. It feels wrong. Is it because it’s him, because of why he’s doing this, or because you just don’t like being toyed there? All three, perhaps. You tighten your grip on your arms and shut your eyes as your doctor works you. He moves his finger slowly so as not to hurt you, but even then he still works your ass a bit firmly.

“I won’t be prepping you more than necessary,” Yosuke warns you. “I don’t want to cause internal damage to you, but I do want this to teach you a lesson. You understand, dear.”

You continue to shiver as you hear him say these things and feel him worming around inside you. Yosuke doesn’t much sound casual about this as he has tended to before. You wonder if he does feel even a sliver of remorse about doing this, but simultaneously remind yourself he’s going to be the one getting pleasure out of anything he gets to do with you.

After a while of Yosuke working you, he pulls his finger away and presses his hand against your right cheek.

“That should be enough,” he says. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any other lubrication than what’s already on me. So this may hurt a bit more than I want it to until you’ve loosened up with me inside of you. The pillow is for you to grind against. Perhaps the stimulation on your clit will help keep you from tightening up too much.”

Your trembling worsens as you feel him tease the entrance of your asshole with the tip of his wet cock. A frightened whimper escapes your lips, but Yosuke doesn’t bother to stop now. He steadies himself before pushing his way further inside of you. Though he goes slow, he doesn’t take it little by little. Instead, he pushes as far into you as he can, sliding his wet phallus into your ass and making you groan in agony.

This feels far tighter than it should. And with Yosuke’s size, it’s incredibly uncomfortable. It hurts to feel your insides expand so suddenly, but you bite into the cloth of his tie as a crutch to help you through it while more painful groans escape your throat. You unfold your arms and clutch the fabric of your comforter tightly in your fingers as Yosuke continues to shove his way through you.

Though his entry doesn’t really take long, you feel as if it’s never going to end, and you endure each agonizing push into your body until Yosuke’s crotch finally meats the skin of your ass. Once it’s over, he stops moving and places his free hand over the back of your head, lightly petting it.

“It’s in,” he breathes. “I’ll give you a moment to get used to it. But I’ll be moving soon.”

You pant heavily through your mouth, recovering from your initial panic. The muffled breath just barely escapes from behind the cloth and spills into your doctor’s hand. Yosuke’s fingers curl around the flesh of your chin and cheek as he keeps the tie in place, and his fingertips press firmly into your skin.

“You know that it hurts me to do this to you, dear,” Yosuke murmurs atop you, still petting your head. “But I have to.”

He leans in just slightly to kiss your head, then pulls back and drops his hand back down to your lower body, gripping your waist to keep you steady.

“I’m going to start moving now,” he tells you. “If you don’t try to loosen up, it will hurt.”

Again, you clench your fists around the comforter and let out a muffled groan as your doctor pulls his cock slightly back. He waits a moment before firmly pressing his fingers into the flesh of your waist, but immediately shoves his way back into you and makes you yelp in pain. Your clit rubs against the pillow as he pushes his way into you, but with the horrible discomfort you feel right now, you can’t derive any pleasure from it.

You bite even more on the cloth in your mouth and breathe heavily through your nose as you try to endure being forced into. Even the earlier pleasure wasn’t enough to fully loosen you up for him. Even if the sensation isn’t so painful that you feel you might rip open, you’d hardly call that a plus.

Wanting to try distracting yourself from the pain, you try to focus on something, anything at all. You try to remember all the books you’ve read and what they were about, recalling Three talking about books just earlier today.

Yosuke again pulls away slightly and rams himself against you, making you cry out further. The wetness of his cock and the bare minimum preparation is probably the only thing that’s saving you from injury now. Even if it hurts, you try to tell yourself it’ll be over soon.

Focusing your attention again, you remember the few stories you’ve read, but are struggling to recall their specific contents as clearly as you’d like. Instead, you think about the feeling of turning pages between your fingers and the smell of the paper in each book.

Another forceful thrust breaks your focus, but you can only bring yourself to loudly grunt this time. The pain is still present, but becoming easier to accept. Still, you grip the comforter tightly and bite into the tie with each movement against you Yosuke makes. He gives a few grunts of his own with every grind and pump into your ass. When he gauges that you’re getting accustomed to him, he starts to go more steadily.

Unable to focus on anything else again, you endure a more constant pounding into your ass. You let out a series of loud gasps, throated groans, and frenzied pants between each discomforting pump. With every forceful push forward against your body that occurs when Yosuke’s crotch meets your ass, you feel your clit pressing and brushing against the pillow. It’s starting to feel somewhat more pleasurable, but the discomfort of being fucked this way is still so prominent that you can’t get anything out of humping the pillow beyond basic stimulation which refuses to bud into uncontrollable pleasure like you wish it would.

You continue to bite down on Yosuke’s tie and give more grunts, groans, and pants as your doctor rapes you forcefully, every powerful pump making you squirm. Your doctor merely breathes and pants rapidly as he focuses on using you, not once bothering to speak up or tease you like he normally does.

He doesn’t even give you much of a warning before he starts to reach his climax. The only way you can gauge this is by the way his breaths quicken in pace and become shallower. Even his thrusts and strides become much tighter and stop being wide and long. Yosuke picks his pace up and grips your waist firmly as he lets out a series of concentrated and breathy grunts. In moments, his cock pulses again inside of you, and he releases his warm load into your asshole. It feels disgusting to have your insides coated this way, but you try to bear it until your doctor is finally finished coming inside of you.

Yosuke slaps his body against yours a few more times, going slower but just as deep as he finishes his climax. A few more powerful grunts escape his throat as he bucks against you, but everything eventually subsides. Soon, the both of you are still again.

Finally able to relax, you drop your head and try to suck in breath through your nose while your mouth is still gagged. Your body ends up going limp a moment as you lay there recovering from your assault.

Your ass feels slimy and disgusting now, and Yosuke gently pulling himself out of you only makes it worse. You can hear the slick, wet sounds of his cock pulling out, and when he’s completely left you, your hole still feels as if it’s gaping. You hate it.

Quietly, you uncurl your fingers from the comforter and bring a hand to the one Yosuke has over your mouth. You try to tug it down, which your doctor allows. Finally able to do so, you wearily remove the tie from your mouth and suck in long, heavy breaths. Your body continues to shiver as it comes down from being fucked from behind, and Yosuke says nothing as he permits you the respite.

He fully retracts himself from you to stand straight, then moves back to the bathroom, trusting that you’ll stay where you are for the moment without having to tell you to. When he comes back, you presume he’s cleaned himself since he re-dresses his lower body and slips back into his shoes. You can only listen to the sounds of cloth shuffling and metal clinging about. The last thing you hear is the light zip of his pants as he closes them up. Only once Yosuke has dressed fully does he attempt to clean you of the mess he made. He takes the tissue from the side of the bed and uses it to thoroughly wipe you off, helping to eliminate the disgusting wetness you feel.

You say nothing and let the man take care of and clean you. You’re not much in any mood to move anyway. It also doesn’t much matter how much Yosuke wipes away, you’re still going to feel awful until you’re able to rest.

Once Yosuke has finished his task, he leaves again to dispose of all the trash and returns to you promptly after. Still with nothing else to say, he picks your clothes off of the floor and starts to dress you, first pulling your panties up onto your lower body. Never before have you more badly wanted a shower, but evidently your doctor isn’t about to take you out of here just to let you have one.

Gently, Yosuke turns your body over, then takes hold of one of your hands while slipping his other arm between your upper back and the bed. Despite not wanting to rely on him, you squeeze his hand firmly and allow the man to help you sit up. Your insides feel sore now that you can more clearly focus, but you’re otherwise able to move without much issue.

Once you’re up, Yosuke drops his hand and opens up the bottom most portion of your gown before you, widening it with both hands. He holds the thing in front of your face to indicate he wants you to cooperate with him, so you quietly raise your arms and let your doctor dress you.

“Are you alright?” He finally breaks the silence with a question, his voice low voice as he tugs the gown down your body. You shake your head slightly in response, and keep your eyes fixated on the floor. Once your gown has been placed back on your body, you sit on the side of the bed with your hands in your lap, one tightly clutching the other.

“Did I hurt you too much?” Your doctor questions with genuine concern in his voice. He curls his fingers under your chin and lifts your head up. Even with your face tilted toward him, you refuse to look him in the eye.

“I just feel gross,” you tell him meekly.

”And the pain?”

You don’t answer right away, but do eventually tell him, “…Not as bad now.”

“It should fade soon,” Yosuke assures you. He then takes his thumb and forefinger and squeezes your chin with it on either side. He lightly shakes your head, causing you to look up at him.

“I want an apology,” he lightly demands, glancing down at you with his olive eyes. Your sullen expression scrunches up slightly into a scowl, and you finally look back at the man with anger at the audacity he has to demand this after what he just did.

“What?”

“For lying to me,” Yosuke elaborates plainly. “I want to be sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

You drop your eyes to the side again and continue to scowl. “You had your way with me already. You don’t deserve an apology.”

Yosuke drops his hand away and lightly sighs. You turn your head fully away from him now, and don’t much see whatever it is he’s doing or what kind of face he’s making. However, you catch a glimpse of his arm moving past you on the other side of your head, as if to reach for something. When you finally turn back to try looking at his hands, you’re surprised by Yosuke wrapping his tie firmly around your wrists and quickly forming an initial knot before pulling both ends to tighten it.

You widen your eyes slightly as you gaze upon his act, and try to pull away before he can do anything more. However, he firmly tugs both ends of the tie to force your arms forward, then grabs one of your wrists so that he can hold you In place while he tightly winds the rest of each end of the cloth up your forearm until there’s a small portion of it left for him to work with. It doesn’t wind up very far, but certainly enough for you not to be able to reach the ends of the cloth with your hands when you fold them down.

“What are you doing?!” You question in a slight panic. “I thought you were done!”

With the remaining fabric, Yosuke ties a tight knot halfway up your forearm.

“This isn’t for pleasure,” he tells you with a straight face. Once he’s tied you, he lets your wrists go and watches as you try and fail to pull your wrists apart. You aren’t able to reach the end knot with your hands either, so you’re stuck like this.

Yosuke kneels before you on one knee, lowering himself to your level. He steadies one of his elbows on his leg, and his hand hangs loosely off the side of it. Worriedly, you pick your head up and look on at him with pleading eyes, but the man merely gives a soft smile and sweetly runs the back of his free hand down your cheek.

“It is what it is since you’re being stubborn, my dear,” he tells you. “You’ll sleep with this on tonight. I intend to do everything I can to try seeing you in the morning, even if it means I have to pull a lot of extra work tonight. So, I’ll come remove it then.”

You shake your head just once, but rapidly.

“No, you can’t!” you beg him. “Please…I’m sorry!”

The idea of being restrained like this all night puts you on edge beyond belief. Even if it isn’t much of a big deal to do something like sleep with your wrists tied together, feeling held back in general is off-putting. It’s enough to be restrained when you’re being raped. You don’t want to be restricted like this outside of your visits too.

Yosuke merely chuckles and pets your head.

“I forgive you, my darling. But it’s already too late for me to take this back,” he says. “If you had apologized when I asked, I wouldn’t have done this. If only you were honest, this would have all been fine. In fact, I hadn’t even intended to visit you tonight at all. Had you told me the truth from the beginning, I’d have let you go to sleep a long time ago.”

Yosuke then trails his hand back down to your chin and teases the underside of it with his finger in a playful manner. “But perhaps you like being punished. You respond preciously to being forced upon, after all.”

You scowl again and jerk your head away from his touch.

“If I’d told you the truth either time, you’d have hurt my friends!” you tell him firmly. You then look down and ball your fists in your lap. “At least…I was so afraid that-“

“I told you that you’re my only concern, my pet,” Yosuke interrupts you with a light frown. “They mean nothing to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you insist with a likely shaky voice. Again, Yosuke firmly grips your chin and swipes a thumb over your trembling lower lip. He asks you to look at him, and you hesitantly obey.

“I only want you to remember that you’re mine, my darling” he reminds you. “Don’t lose sight of that fact. You can be happy with your friends if you like, but you belong to me. They can’t have you the way I can. Even if they want to.”

You say nothing, but your doctor leans in to press his lips against yours a moment, giving you quick, sweet kiss.

“I’m sorry for hurting you tonight, my dearest,” he says as he pulls away. He keeps his face somewhat close to yours, looking intimately at you. He drops his hand and places it over the back of one of yours, in your lap. “I decided to make you feel good beforehand knowing I had to punish you. But I only want you to behave. Know that it’s sometimes hard to discipline the ones you love, but necessary. As I said before, it’s because I love you that I do this. Even when you hurt me by saying hateful things or acting out, I still want to take care of you.”

He chuckles gently.

“And don’t worry, my pet. I won’t leave you behind the way I have with others,” he promises you. “You’re special to me. You’re just what I want.”

“I’m not-“ You try to speak, but stop yourself as you realize trying to get Yosuke to stop twisting your words and intentions is fruitless. You continue to remain in silence for a moment, looking down at the floor.

You’re so tired of this. You’re tired of being used and held emotionally and physically hostage by this man. You’re trying to accept it slowly knowing you can’t stop him, but it’s not easy. You can’t walk the line between love and hate so easily without teetering one way or the other. You either depend on the man like a foolish, lovesick child, or hate everything about him and fight against him every step of the way. You feel like an instrument being played by a twisted musician.

Yosuke hurts you and pleases you and hurts you and pleases you again, always in a cycle. Everything leaves you in a state of confusion even when you know what the right answer to the question “how am I supposed to feel and act?” should be. Him squeezing your hand gently now infuriates you after what he keeps doing to claim you as his, yet every taste of his gentle nature leaves you in a state of warmth that you crave. Even if you know it’s just a façade.

Yosuke’s always been a better liar. You can’t compete. All you can do is try to tread carefully around him, but you keep making careless mistakes. Speaking your mind is something you can’t help even when you know it can get you in trouble, but being more attentive to things that could get you in trouble is something you should learn to do.

“Please just untie me,” you finally beg again, your voice low and weak, and your words mumbling. Yosuke chuckles at your evident weakness. He says nothing in response yet, but does push off of his knee to stand once more. Quietly, he takes your pillow and puts it back in place, clean side up, then tugs your comforter down to expose the sheets of your bed. You watch him as he does this, realizing your doctor means to put you to bed now, and that you won’t get what you want. You glimpse Lav’s hairband still on his wrist, looking at it almost longingly. It’s almost surreal how quickly such a sweet moment with her was soured by an unwarranted visit from your doctor. Today had gone so well, and now…

Maybe you do like the attention, but not because you’re desperate to be seen or tended to. You just want to be loved and respected. You want to be taken care of without being forced into submission by someone who wants to make you theirs and treat you like a doll. Yosuke can’t give you the kind of love you need. The only way he could is if you twisted your expectations to fit his skewed vision of the concept.

If you gave into him, he’d shower you in affection and adoration. You’re sure he’d treat you like his precious princess if only you said yes to everything he wanted from you. It would be easy to give into him and behave for him. He’d reward and praise you, protect you, take care of you. You wouldn’t have to be sad or angry. You wouldn’t have to be miserable. You could learn to feel just like you did under the influence of the drug he gave you. It wouldn’t have to hurt.

But his love isn’t real love. You still know this, and have always been able to remember this no matter how you‘ve sometimes reacted to Yosuke’s touch and attention. As long as you know this, perhaps you can still persevere.

It would be easy to give up, but fighting back is worth more to you right now. It’s not the easiest path, but you don’t want to stop being yourself just so that you can feel good without consequence. You don’t think less of Blue for making the decision to give in and convince herself that she enjoys it here hard and long enough for it to become a truth for her. You don’t blame Three for being so afraid of this place that she needs a crutch. And you don’t resent Violet or Eight for being as bitter as they are—or had been—in response to the environment they were faced with. Everyone has handled this differently.

But you don’t want to give in, you don’t want to quit. Like Cyrus, you may never be wholly free of your miseries. They may come back to haunt you even when you overcome them. But you want to be strong like him, and like Lav. And, like Eight, you want to keep fighting. Yosuke can’t take away what you feel for others. Even if he locks you up forever or hurts you relentlessly, you still care about your friends. You always will.

Your body hurts now, and you’re still shaking from the unsettling encounter you just had. The lengths Yosuke goes to in order to keep his hold on you is frightening. But…it’s okay to feel afraid. Isn’t it?

You give a light, short gasp as a warm hand is placed on your shoulder. Shaken from your thoughts, you realize Yosuke has been trying to get your attention for a while now. You’re reminded where you are and that you’re bound by your wrists. Seeing your doctor’s tie wrapped tightly around your flesh only makes your heart sink. Even if you’re trying to keep yourself afloat with your own self-motivation, you can’t much avoid the reality of what’s happening now, and what’s just happened earlier. Still, perhaps it’s a step in the right direction that you were even able to keep yourself focused without having to rely on someone to give you a pep-talk.

Yosuke gently shifts your body along the bed and guides you to lie back on it. You say nothing and obey his silent command. Once you’re laying down, you allow your doctor to wrap you up in your comforter and remain still as he sweetly pets your head. He stares down at you warmly as he pets you, watching as you again avoid his gaze.

“Get some rest, my dear,” he croons gently, his voice low and lulling. “Think about what I’ve said today. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He stops petting you a moment to bend himself and hover over you for a kiss, and you shut your eyes as he lingers upon your lips for a bit longer than you expected. Once he pulls away, he merely smiles at you before finally leaving you alone. Yosuke plucks his coat from your chair and hangs it over his forearm, which he holds before his stomach. He walks out of the room without another word, and you lightly wince as you hear the door shut and lock behind him.

You should be glad that he’s gone, but you feel drained from your sour experience tonight. At least the first half felt good. You can’t fathom why Yosuke’s so wary of Lav and Cyrus and pretty much anyone else he thinks you’re interested in when he can just keep using you as he likes. He’s made that fact abundantly clear.

It’s not as though he’s ever going to win your heart at the rate he’s going and with the methods he uses. Either he has no idea how to win you over, or it’s not your love and trust he really wants. He said he wanted you to be his, and even implied during your “date” that he’d eventually have your heart as well as your mind. But if he really does want your love, this is a sick way of trying to earn it.

Although you’re on your back, you try to shift yourself to the side. This feat is far more difficult than you expected with your wrists bound. Plus, your ass still feels immensely sore after the forceful pounding it got, so shuffling your legs around hurts just slightly. You suppose the only positive is that Yosuke didn’t fuck you hard enough for it to cause any lasting damage. You might even be sore tomorrow, but certainly not nearly as bad as now.

Eventually, you do manage to lay on your side and rest your head in your pillow. You end up bringing your arms up slightly to try pulling the knot of Yosuke’s tie with your teeth, but the thing is too tight to undo. You’d rather not get even more frustrated trying to free yourself, so you quit rather immediately and try to shut your eyes and force yourself to sleep.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Chapter 55: Rest Twenty Six - Whole

“Ten.”

Your eyes open wide as you’re jolted awake by the sensation of your doctor’s hand upon your shoulder. You have no idea how long he’s been trying to wake you, but he’s reached the point of having to shake you slightly. You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep at all, and aren’t sure if you dreamt.

After the sudden awakening, you can sense that you’re not too tired, so perhaps you did rest well all things considered. Though, you’re none too pleased to see your doctor again. Shuffling your body now so that you’re on your back, the light tinge of soreness in your bottom reminds you what happened last night. There’s not so much pain as there is a mild discomfort, but it’s still a bit bothersome nonetheless. You suppose you’ve had worse injuries from Micah and Milos anyway. But the less you think about that now, the better.

Much to your dismay, your hands are still bound at the wrist by your doctor’s tie. You sit up and glance down at your forearms with a light scowl. It apparently wasn’t hard to sleep with this restraint on, but you still feel awful with this restriction of movement.

“Did you sleep well, pet?” Your doctor questions with a light trailing of his hand down your head and back. You don’t at all waste time with these false pleasantries.

“You said you’d take this off,” you say bluntly. “So take it off.”

Yosuke chuckles. “Well, I’ve already replaced that tie, so you’re welcome to keep it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you immediately turn your head to look up at Yosuke as he stands before you. Immediately, you catch sight of him adjusting another tie around his neck, which looks to be as dark grey as the one you’re familiar with, but solid and without a pattern print. You shake your head upon seeing this.

“No, you promised you’d take it off!” You shoot out, looking the man in the eyes with anger.

“I don’t recall ever saying ‘I promise’,” Yosuke lightly tilts his head and frowns. “Besides, you’re still being stubborn.”

He then moves to your desk and brings forward both your chair and a small plate of some egg dish you hadn’t noticed atop the flat surface. Without having to think on it, you already know what he’s intending.

“I’m not eating that,” you tell him firmly. “Not unless you let me do it myself.”

“I won’t,” is your doctor’s simple response as he sits on your chair.

This blunt refusal makes you seethe. “You’re treating me like a child!”

“Because you insist on being childish, dear,” Yosuke laughs lightly as he cuts into the egg with a fork. “Now open your pretty little mouth for me.”

“No!” You remain ever firm, but this makes your doctor frown.

“Now, Ten,” he warns. “Don’t be difficult. Shall I force you to eat by putting it in my mouth first?”

You look away. “That’s disgusting.”

“Then open your mouth, pet.” Your doctor again insists, bringing the fork to your lips. “You do need to eat.”

You hesitate a moment, but ultimately decide to do as he says. Not for him, though. Only because Charlie made this. You trust him, a man you hardly know, more than your own doctor at this point.

Embarrassed but wanting to get through breakfast quickly, you part your lips and let your doctor feed you like before. He seems pleased by your cooperation, even if it’s hesitantly given. Yosuke smiles gently as he watches you eat.

“Will you at least let me brush my teeth on my own?” You question between bites.

“If you behave, yes,” is the man’s answer as he places another bit of egg in your mouth. “That is, if you’re able to with your wrists tied that way. Your hair I’ll have to brush myself.”

You scowl, but acknowledge this with a light nod. As you take your next bite of food, you glance over at Yosuke’s face and notice light bags under his eyes.

“I’m guessing you didn’t sleep again,” you comment. Yosuke chuckles.

“Not very much,” he admits. “I had a lot of leftover paperwork. And, as I finished, I was told to take care of something else that required my presence. So, I didn’t much have the chance to rest. But being here with you now more than makes up for it.”

“Of course it does,” you mutter.

Yosuke eventually finishes feeding you and puts the plate back on the desk. He allows you to stand up on your own and follows you to your bathroom, leaning against the doorframe while he merely watches your messy attempt at brushing your teeth on your own. It’s awkward as hell to do it with how ungraceful your movements are, but you do manage to grab your toothbrush, load it with toothpaste, and bring the brush to your mouth. You end up having to keep your arms up to your face while moving your wrist back and forth to do one side before moving the brush to the other hand to clean the other side of your mouth. Despite the difficulty, you somehow pull it off. Your doctor almost seems amused by it judging by his somewhat raised eyebrows.

Rinsing isn’t much more difficult with you getting the hang of this, but it certainly feels and probably looks beyond awkward. Still, you finish without much of a hitch. Yosuke even gives you a brief “congratulations” in your success, but wastes no time in going back to caring for you himself. He brushes your hair for you as he’d said he would, and you merely stand still in front of the mirror, watching his hand glide sweetly with the brush down your ends, then along your scalp. You notice that Lav’s hairband is gone from his wrist now, and wonder if he merely threw it out. You silently wish you’d gotten to keep it. She probably has others anyway, but it’d have been nice to have something of hers.

It’s not unlike the bit of Cyrus’ torn shirt he used to bandage you back in the crafts room, you suppose. That had been removed as well, though you’d have been hard-pressed to hold onto a bloodied cloth as a keepsake. You ponder on whether the others have keepsakes of their own when it’d be difficult to smuggle things into their rooms with very few options in methods to do so. The boys at least have pants. All you have is a flimsy gown that things can easily slip through.

Thinking of Cyrus taking care of you that day makes you lightly blush. You wish things had happened under different circumstances then. But you’d have been far too sheepish to try something with him at that point with how shy you were. Even now, you’re still that way. You did shiver relentlessly when dealing with Lav, after all. But maybe it’s easier for you to say yes to sex from someone you actually care about now than it was before. Even for as nervous as you were with the young woman, you still wanted to give it a try. The first time you were together, you weren’t sure at all.

You wonder whether Yosuke was right about you just experimenting. You don’t know if you can safely say you like women when you haven’t been with very many, nor very often. You might be better off asking the peachy girlfriends for their advice on this kind of thing. But you do care about Lav. It’s not merely because of her sex, but because of who she is as a person. The same goes for Cyrus, who you’d admitted you liked being intimate with even if it had been under horrible circumstances. But if the prospect of having sex with either of them isn’t so bothersome, does that mean you like both? Strangely, even your awful experiences with Mom haven’t completely managed to shirk your ability to find pleasure in a woman, merely hindered it for so long. You did want to kiss Lav yourself, anyway. Maybe you do like both.

“There.” Yosuke’s sudden interruption of your thoughts makes you blink a moment, and you look back in the mirror after realizing your eyes had started to mindlessly shift down to the bathroom floor. You don’t much like seeing your doctor behind your reflection, and instead look away once you catch sight of him. Though, he does turn you around, an action that forces you to face him anyway. Upon curling his fingers yet again under your chin, he gives you a quick peck on the lips.

“We should go,” he says upon pulling back. Now that you’re done being tended to, you head out of the bathroom and await Yosuke to take you out into the hall. When you catch sight of the empty plate on your desk, you go to it and slide the thing onto your palms. Your doctor, waiting by the door now, sees this action and raises a brow.

“You don’t have to take that, you know,” he gives a light reminder.

“It’s a bit of a habit,” you respond. “Plus it gives me an excuse to see if anyone’s around the cafeteria.”

This isn’t at all wrong. You mainly want to check on Charlie, but it would be a good place to start with to see if anyone’s there since, judging by your meal, it’s still morning. Yosuke doesn’t seem to find your statement suspicious despite thinking on it a moment, and so he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

With nothing more to say, he heads out of your room, and you silently follow him into the hall. Being out here with your wrists like this is embarrassing, but there’s not much you can do about it now. You’re at least glad no other doctors are there to bother you two. They’d have had a field day seeing you like this.

You and Yosuke exchange no words as he walks you down the long hall. You can’t see his face, but you’re sure he’s busy thinking of something to himself. He often tends to go quiet when he does. Like you, he can get lost in his own thoughts. You wonder, though, what kind of train of thought a man like him even has. You can’t quite place certain aspects of him enough to picture it clearly, even for as much about him as you’ve come to know.

Once the both of you round the corner at the end of the hall, you unfortunately run into Mom and see her leaning against the wall next to the office door, casually picking at her nails. She glances up when she catches sight of you two with her green eyes, and her pinkish lips curve into a familiar smile. Before she even has the chance to speak, however, Yosuke interrupts her.

“Were you waiting for us?” He questions with a raised brow.

“Yes,” Mom happily and shamelessly admits this. “But honestly, Yosuke. We usually greet each other before asking questions. You used to know that.”

Yosuke frown lightly. “My apologies, Mother. But I’m not much here for a friendly chat.”

This makes Mom give a light, airy sigh and touch a hand to her cheek. “You’ve been avoiding me far too much, cutie doctor. Anyway, there were only three Numbers left to wait on. Since I knew one had to be yours, I waited for you.”

“I’m shocked so few are missing,” Yosuke casually ignores Mom’s initial statement.

“Yes, one of them being my precious One,” Mom giggles. “Mommy loves her little boy, but even she could use a babysitter from time to time. Jonathan’s taking good care of him for me. I figured he’d be in the mood after his little date with Nathaniel.”

She takes a moment to close her eyes and blush while giggling to herself as she momentarily relishes in the image of the two men in arms. However, she promptly recollects herself and re-opens her eyes. The green things then flicker from Yosuke to you behind him, and she immediately locks onto your tied wrists. Seeing the silken cloth wrapped around your skin makes her laugh aloud.

“Yosuke, what on earth did you do to that poor girl?” She questions your doctor. “She looks like a little slave.”

Yosuke merely folds his arms.

“It’s just a small punishment,” he answers. “Nothing more.”

Mom giggles once again and pokes at the tip of Yosuke’s nose playfully with her finger. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like none of your business,” is the man’s blunt reply. “Let her in.”

Mom then frowns and lets a heavy, frustrated breath escape her mouth while staring into Yosuke’s unwavering olive eyes. However, she drops her hand to her hip and turns her head sharply toward the open office door.

“Monica!” She yells loudly. Immediately, a crashing sound can be heard from the office, which makes Mom groan and put her free hand to her temple. In moments, Monica emerges by the door, clutching the doorframe with one of her manicured hands. You presume she tried to come in a hurry upon hearing her name by the way she’s huffing panickily.

“What is it?!” She questions eagerly, looking worried as though there’s some kind of emergency. Mom merely scowls.

“Open the gate,” she commands. “You ought to be more attentive. And clean up whatever mess you made in there.”

Monica’s brown eyes fixate on you then, as if wandering from Mom’s bitter insistence. She starts to smile, but the attempt falters as she catches sight of your tied wrists. Surprisingly, she almost looks at you with sympathy, but says nothing otherwise.

“It’s good to see you, Monica,” Yosuke gives a light greeting to the woman, shaking her from whatever she might be thinking. She looks at Yosuke and smiles for him. But before she can open her mouth to speak, Mom clears her throat loudly.

“Right…” Monica manages to get out, subtly bowing her head slightly before retreating again into the office. You wonder what it is she’s here for if all she does is act second to Mom. Even subservient to her, from what you can gather. She doesn’t seem bothered by the orders she’s given and the obviously negative attitude toward her Mom has. She’s either resilient against it, or wholly oblivious to it. And what was with that look she gave you? There’s no way she genuinely feels bad. Even people like Nathaniel and Jonathan let this kind of thing happen without a second thought.

“You two seem to be getting along well,” Yosuke remarks to Mom whose face has remained in its scowling state.

“Don’t give me that,” she grumbles. “The woman’s a peon to me until she proves herself as something more. But I’m convinced she’s acting like a child on purpose just to bother me.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Yosuke frowns. “She’s just an excitable, clumsy person. Give her time. I think you’re just projecting.”

“What are you, Gale?” Mom barks back. “Don’t make assumptions. You think I like picturing our asshole overseer mentally jerking himself off to the thought of me suffering with her? He did this on purpose, I’m sure. This is supposed to be my space. I don’t care if he says there’s a blatant reason for bringing her in, I know there’s an underlying one too. He has a vendetta against me. He’s tired of me having fun even though I do everything else he asks.”

“You’ve never had trouble sharing your space before,” Yosuke says with a lowered brow. “Perhaps you’re a bit jealous. She’s only trying to help. Besides, I’m sure the boss has his own plans that don’t revolve solely around you as you’d like them to. We’d be better off not questioning it.”

Mom scowls and points a finger fiercely at Yosuke. “Don’t talk like you know. All you’ve been doing is staying far away from me. And everything you know can’t possibly fill a book when all you’ve been doing is fooling around with your Number.“

Yosuke puts his hand on Mom’s shoulder and gives her a warning look. As he does this, the gate beside you drags open with a loud metallic sliding noise. Mom glances at the open passage into the recreational hall, then back at Yosuke with ferocity in her green eyes. However, she gives a heavy sigh and presses her hand again to her temple.

“I’ll get over it,” she tries to convince herself. “I suppose she’ll eventually get a handle on things, and that I can eventually focus my bitterness solely on him. But it’s like dealing with an inept child. Not even one I can enjoy. I’m tired. I have my own boy to think about, and all this paperwork…”

Dropping her hand now, she scoffs and lightly swats the back of it against Yosuke’s chest.

“Look who I’m talking to. I see those bags under your eyes. You look like shit.”

You can’t help but laugh subtly to yourself at this remark, much to both doctors’ surprise. They turn to you for a moment, but you quickly straighten yourself up again and drop your smile. You found the woman’s willingness to be so forward about what you weren’t amusing, but now you feel hesitant again at the brief attention.

Mom grins at you before turning back to Yosuke. “See? Everyone can tell.”

“Don’t push it,” Yosuke frowns as he gently takes Mom’s hand and moves it away from his chest. “Anyway, try talking to Monica like a person for once. Maybe you’ll find you have a lot in common. Certainly more than you and Lilah do.”

“Oh, Lilah and I have plenty in common,” Mom balls her fists. “But that seedy little bitch keeps pecking at me like it’s a game. I can’t even defend myself without him stepping in.”

Yosuke remains ever calm in the face of Mom’s raving and sighs with exasperation.

“She always gets her way. It is what it is.” Strangely, he’s agreed with Mom on something. Then again, you had known your doctor to be a bit displeased with Lilah based on both times you encountered her with him around.

Yosuke turns away from Mom and again focuses himself on you. Smiling, he raises his hand and pets your head gently.

“Go on, dear,” he urges. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“What am I supposed to do about this?” You question, motioning your arms slightly forward. Yosuke chuckles.

“You’re welcome to have your friends cut it off if you like,” he says, then gently grabs the bottom of the tie on his neck. “I have this one anyway.”

You realize then that intended the others to see you like this. Perhaps as a reminder of the fact that he owns you. The thought of it frustrates you heavily, but the others will likely understand and probably won’t make it a big deal.

But that’s not really the point, is it? The point is to put the reminder in their heads to begin with. Still, what’s the purpose in fussing about it now? You just want to get away from Yosuke as soon as you can.

“I did like the old one better,” Mom comments from behind him, folding her arms as she watches you two. “It had more variety. This one’s a little one-note.”

Yosuke gives a light breath through his mouth while subtly smiling as if to laugh at this statement. He merely lets you go through the gate and watches as it shuts behind you. When you’ve left him, he turns back to Mom. Although you walk down the hall to the cafeteria, you take your time to try eavesdropping on the two a bit. You don’t suppose you hide it very well by the way Yosuke glances over at you, a gesture which you catch upon lightly turning your head back. But he doesn’t seem to much mind it this time as he makes no attempt to end his conversation right away.

“If you’re tired, you can always come rest here,” the blonde woman before him invites coyly. Your doctor, however, refuses this without question.

“I’d rather not,” he says. “Besides, even if you wanted to do something, which I’m assuming you’re getting at and which you know I won’t, you couldn’t with Monica around.”

Mom scoffs. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t had time to myself in that office in a while. She’s even come to bother me in my bed to ask questions.”

She then shifts her tone again and lightly laughs. “But I mean, maybe she likes to watch.”

You stop as you reach the cafeteria doors, stepping into the room just slightly, but only enough for your head to still poke out from the entrance. You continue to peek in on the two doctors.

“No, I’m better off resting my head on my desk,” Yosuke grumbles lightly, his voice more tired now. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge Mom’s previous statement. “At least until something comes up, or I’m told to keep working.”

“You’re fooling around a bit too much, cutie doctor,” Mom giggles, gently taking Yosuke’s tie in her hand and running her flesh down along it until the cloth falls out of her palm. “Take it from me, you need to balance yourself between work and play. I’ve been doing this for a while, after all. If there’s anyone who can help you with this, it’s me.”

This statement offends your doctor, as he sharply retorts, “I don’t take advice from you.”

Without giving the displeased Mom a chance to respond, he moves away from her and starts to retreat back in the direction he came. Perhaps even his former companion realizes how much like her he’s becoming while Yosuke himself continues to remain in denial about it. But this shift in attitude could also be due to a slight rift between the two doctors. They’ve been a bit more tense with one another since you first met them. But with everything that’s happened between them lately, it’s hardly surprising.

Upon seeing the conversation break apart and both doctors head in opposite directions, you fully commit to stepping into the cafeteria now, still with the plate in your palms. Shockingly, you’ve managed not to drop the thing this whole time. You’d expected your sense of balance to be as bad as most other things, but it’s been fine so far.

Heading to the counter now, you call out to Charlie. It takes a moment, but you eventually do hear shuffling from behind the pane. As if to greet you, the man sticks the paper with the smiling face out from the slit between the counter and the pane. You’re glad that nobody bothered to take the papers away from him. But if the boss doesn’t want you communicating with Charlie, he’ll likely do so whenever he learns of what you’re doing. You’re sure he will learn of it somehow. The other doctors have made it abundantly clear that he finds out about most everything, one way or another.

With Charlie now here, you put the plate on the counter finally and watch as the worker takes it away.

“I hope you’ve been doing alright,” you tell him casually. After a brief moment, Charlie sticks the same paper out from the slit as before. This makes you smile lightly. “I’m glad.”

Looking down at your tied wrists, you then frown.

“Hey, do you think you could cut this off for me?”

Strangely, Charlie brings forward the paper with the frown on it. This causes you to raise your brow and look at the pane.

“Why not? You question. “You do have knives and probably scissors or something back there, right?”

Smile.

“Are you just not allowed to use them outside of there?”

Frown.

You sigh. “I guess I can ask the others. I just thought I’d ask you since I didn’t want to have to face them like this if I didn’t have to.”

Charlie slips the frowning paper under the slit, but you suppose this is more as a means of sympathy rather than a normal response.

“I’m sure they won’t think ill of it,” you say. “My doctor did this, you know. He keeps trying to own me and make sure everyone knows that the does. It’s sick. But I guess I don’t have to tell you twice how bad the doctors are.”

Frown.

You lower your eyes. “Well…I guess it’s not exactly something you’d wanna talk about. I shouldn’t shove my problems on you when you have your own. Anyway, have you ‘officially’ met some of the others yet? Mom mentioned that most everyone was here today, so I figured they must have already had breakfast and had the chance to meet you.”

Smile.

“But not all?”

Frown.

Before you can think of what else to ask him, the doors to the cafeteria open behind you like before. When you turn around this time, you catch sight of Violet standing at the entrance. Her eyes immediately lock onto you as she looks on in light surprise, but she promptly looks away as she starts to step forward. When she finally reaches you, she holds one of her arms closer to her body with her other hand and continues to look down at the floor. However, she does give a light “Hey”.

“Hi, Violet,” you greet back with a calm voice. “How, uh…how have you been?”

Violet pauses a moment, and you observe her while she stands there. Her hair is damp, so you suppose she’s either been in the pool, or has just come from a visit.

“I’ve been better,” she mumbles. “I guess. Still a little shitty, but not as bad.”

“That’s good at least,” you try to remain chipper for her. “Did you just come in?”

“Yeah,” is the girl’s only response. “Momma looked pretty pissed when I saw her. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’m kind of hungry. I’d like something in my stomach other than…you know.”

You sigh. “Was it Micah?”

“…Yeah. You know what he likes.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” you respond with a light scowl. Violet glances at your tied arms.

“And I’m assuming that’s from your doctor?”

You nod at her. “The bastard even made me sleep like this. I wanted to try getting it off, but no luck.”

You then widen your eyes upon saying this and move to grab Violet’s hand. She looks on at you with confusion, but allows you to guide her even closer to the counter.

“Have you met Charlie?” You ask her eagerly. The dark-haired girl merely glances at you with a slightly raised brow.

“Huh?”

“He’s the guy behind the counter,” you explain with a smile. “We found a way to talk to him. Only with yes and no questions for now, but I’m hoping he can spell things out later on.”

You turn your head toward the pane and call out,

“You have been looking the letters over, right?”

Charlie pushes forward the square of paper with the smile on it, surprising Violet who gasps and steps back just a bit. However, she moves forward again after assessing the situation, and looks on at the pane.

“You’re able to talk to us now?”

Smile.

Violet looks back down at the counter and frowns.

“I guess that means yes?” she supposes. You nod.

“I’m glad you got that. I had to explain it to the twins and Blue before.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not exactly good at inferring things,” Violet pouts slightly, giving a bit of a shrug of her shoulders. “But…they’re not bad people, I guess. Just not the brightest all the time.”

She exhales heavily. “But I guess I’m one to talk, huh?”

You look sheepishly away, unsure how to respond. Violet merely continues to carry out the conversation.

“Well, Charlie probably knows me pretty well by now. I’ve begged for sweets more times than I can count. Right?”

The paper with the smile again moves forward. Violet almost laughs, but hardly makes much of a sound. Her sullen demeanor, however, seems to be fading.

“Well, it’s good to officially meet you,” she tells the man behind the counter, mustering a weak smile of her own. “And sorry to ask so suddenly, but I did sorta come here for food. Could I maybe get some?”

You hear Charlie retreat a moment, leaving you and Violet alone. The girl looks down at your wrists and decides to try helping you remove the tie, but ends up struggling with the knot.

“Sorry,” she grumbles. “I guess you’ll have to cut it off.”

You shrug. “Well, that was kinda the plan anyway. It’s fine.”

You then frown slightly and look at Violet’s dark eyes, noting that she’s avoiding glancing at you now.

“How did things go with him?” You ask gently. “Are you two okay?”

Violet folds her arms and turns her head away. She’s aware of what you’re referring to, it seems.

“I’m not really sure. I think I hurt his feelings a little. Or a lot. I figured I would.”

“You told him?”

Violet nods, but pouts lightly. “It’s really none of your business, you know. But I guess I’ve already told you a lot.”

She sighs.

“Ten, I’m still hurting, but I’ll eventually be okay, and I’m sure he will be too. But I don’t know right now because I haven’t seen him since I talked to him. All I know is that he seemed hurt. But if I know Cyrus, he’ll try to understand. He’s always been that way.”

She looks up at the ceiling and exhales through her nose. “He’s put up with me all this time anyway.”

“Hey, don’t think about it like that,” you try to urge her. “Cyrus is an understanding guy. I’m sure he’ll be okay, and I’m sure he’ll see the good in you. I personally think you’re doing better than you were. You oughtta give yourself more credit.”

Violet blushes lightly, but says nothing. She merely nods to acknowledge your statement.

“He was meditating yesterday,” you finally opt to mention. “I didn’t really see him though. And he’s out right now too, from what I heard Mom saying. But I’m sure he’ll come by. All you have to do is try being kind to him and not let your fears and doubts get to you. He has to do the same.”

“Yeah, but he’s better at suppressing that than I am,” Violet mentions with a frown. “But…I’ll try.”

At that moment, Charlie returns with a tray for Violet, giving her the same dish you got in your room. Though, he’s added a small, wrapped sweetbread on the side for her, one coated lightly with sugar. Violet’s eyes slightly light up when she catches sight of it, and she glances up at the pane as if to look at the worker behind it.

“Are you sure I can have that?” She asks him. Charlie brings forward the paper with the smile on it, and Violet blushes. “Thank you.”

Once she has what she needs, she gives a wave to Charlie and goes to sit down, and you say your goodbyes to the worker as well. You don’t sit with Violet, not wanting to be presumptuous or pushy about joining her. Instead, you stand by the table’s side and ask if Violet wants company.

“No,” she tells you. “I think I’d like to eat alone for a bit.”

“What about after?” You inquire. “I was gonna see where everyone’s at. You should come by too.”

Violet shakes her head and cuts into her egg. “I don’t think they’ll wanna see me.”

“Of course they will,” you try to assure her. “They wanna make sure you’re okay, but they do want to give you your space. That’s all. I guarantee they’ll greet you with open arms.”

You shrug. “They did with Eight, after all.”

“I told you, I’m not like Eight.”

Violets stubbornness makes you exhale a huffing breath, but you continue to be calm and gentle with her. “I know, I know. You two are your own people. But my point is, he’s a dick at times. You can be a bit too much too.”

Violet pouts. “Gee, thanks.”

“I didn’t finish,” you say with a frown. “What I mean is that the other Numbers took him in despite his tendencies, and I’m sure they’ll gladly take you in if you try to be a part of them. Eight adjusted pretty begrudgingly, but I think he’s okay now. I’m sure you can do the same. Better now than later. Plus you could use a distraction after everything you’ve been dealing with.”

“Don’t say that as if my pain’s worse than yours,” Violet responds with downturned brows. “You’ll just make me feel guilty. You’ve been through hell lately. All I’ve dealt with is just Cyrus.”

“I mean, maybe that’s true,” you shrug. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel how you do. Even if you’re just sad about one thing, you’ve also been here longer and had to deal with more for longer. And, even if my situation is bad, I’m not gonna try one-upping you. It’s not exactly an achievement to have a shittier time than everyone else.”

You lighten your tone just slightly and give a half-smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Cyrus is ahead of the game in that case.”

Violet almost laughs as she fiddles with her dish. Not once has she taken a bite in her focus of you. “I guess so.”

Your lips fully curve into a smile then. “Eight stuck up for you, you know. At least, that’s what I heard. He seems to get how you are and why, or at least he can explain the reasoning behind it better than anyone else. Even after what happened, he was the one saying we shouldn’t talk about it behind your back. He figured it’d just hurt you.”

“He said that?” Violet looks up at you with slightly widened eyes. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“I guess I forgot to bring it up,” you sheepishly admit. “But see? Even he cares a little. So, don’t be afraid to try approaching us. Just give it a try sometime.”

Violet says nothing right away, and drops her eyes to the side a moment in thought. After a long quiet, she finally looks back up at you and says, “I’ll think about it”.

You start to feel guilty watching her poke at her food without actually eating it, and so you opt to cut the conversation short here.

“I guess I’ll see you then,” you say with a light touch of the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring. Violet merely nods and moves back to her food, indicating to you that she’s done talking. You walk away and head out to the hall, finding that it’s empty again. You’re glad, because you wouldn’t have much liked to encounter Mom or Micah again.

The conversation with Violet provided a brief distraction, but you remember now that your wrists are still uncomfortably tied, and figure you’ll have to try cutting your makeshift binding off with the scissors in the crafts room. It might be awkward to try, but probably not impossible. If you could brush your teeth this way, surely you can do this too.

To your surprise, the room is populated when you step in. Not just with a few people, but most everyone. They’re spread across two tables that have been moved together, it looks like. Eight, Lav, and Blue are at the leftmost side, with Eight and Lav sitting across from one another, and Blue seated at the end of the table. You notice she’s still trying to finish whatever art piece she’d been working on yesterday, judging by the way she’s focusing on the same flat object she’s tilted toward herself to keep her work hidden from prying eyes. By her on the table are an assortment of colored pencils, so you’re assuming she’s nearly done if she’s already at a coloring phase. Meanwhile, Eight’s in the middle of copying yet another bunch of musical notes from a book onto another large sheet of paper, only partially listening to Lav who you can see saying something to him while leaning on her elbows.

The twins and the peachy girlfriends are huddled on the rightmost side of the conjoined tables, sitting perpendicular to one another in pairs. The twins are to the left of Lav, but both peachy partners are on the table’s end, opposite from Blue. The surface of this table half looks to be littered with a bunch of random crafts supplies: saturated markers, thin pencils, pipe cleaners and yarn of various colors, scissors, glue bottles, and more. Evidently, this portion of the group is getting messier and more hands-on with their work today, but with so much going on at that table, you can’t much make heads or tails of anything from where you’re standing.

With a variety of conversations happening at once, the room lightly fills with chatter in a way you’ve not heard before. It’s almost droning, but certainly not so loud that it’s hard to think, otherwise you’re certain Eight wouldn’t even be around. You almost don’t want to bother anyone, but you’d really rather get this makeshift binding off of you as soon as possible. You’ve admittedly started getting used to working with it, but you hardly think that’s a good thing. The idea of being restricted like this is still off-putting, and it’s only the day’s distractions that have kept you from focusing too hard on it. You’d like the simple freedom of being able to move your arms again.

Since most everyone is focused on something, they don’t really notice you until you actually start approaching them slowly. The first one to see you is Lav, whose amber eyes flicker up as you head over. Seeing her again makes you blush slightly when you recount what happened between the both of you yesterday. Though you can’t help but feel bad about losing her hairband to your possessive doctor.

Everyone else notices you after the young woman, and all immediately glance down at your arms which you’ve been unintentionally holding in front of you as if in offering. The buzzing chatter of the room stops for a while, but it’s Eight who strangely breaks the silence. He lowers his brows.

“What did he do to you?”

You’re not so surprised he’d be the one to ask when Yosuke is, or was, his business as much as yours. However, you’re slightly flustered at everyone focusing on you. You’d rather not go into detail about what went on last night, especially not in front of Three, who you briefly glance at before focusing again on Eight.

“It’s…a long story,” you opt to say. “I just really need help cutting this off. Please?”

Nobody moves at first, but Eight strangely takes the responsibility himself and rises from his place on the floor. Passing by the other table, he plucks a pair of scissors off its surface then makes his way to you.

“Stay still,” he instructs as he lifts up your palm-up hands and worms the blade of the scissors between your skin and the cloth. You hadn’t really realized how tight the wrapping was with how used to it you’d gotten, but the cold blade of the scissors makes you more aware of it.

Eight struggles slightly with cutting the cloth since these scissors are evidently only made for paper. However, he takes his time and keeps his eyes fixated on your forearms as he focuses on his task. The others merely watch as he carries this out, and soon, the tie is completely cut away. It falls to the floor, but you really aren’t in any rush to pick it up. Neither is Eight.

“There,” he says. His voice remains low, so as not to be picked up easily by the others behind him. With his light green eyes, he looks up at you finally, though his expression remains neutral. You don’t immediately reciprocate his gaze, instead rubbing your freed wrists and examining the skin which has reddened. Luckily, your doctor didn’t wrap the thing tightly enough to leave any lasting damage or cut off your circulation. But it certainly was tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Once you assess your freed wrists, you then drop your hands and finally look back at Eight. It still leaves you in a mild state of discomfort glimpsing him and being reminded of Yosuke. Even if discerning the two’s features has become almost second nature whereas it hadn’t really been easy before, Eight’s visage still reminds you of Yosuke’s at times. If it isn’t the glasses or the face, it’s usually the expression. Both have an unusual coldness to them when they don’t give off any indication of emotion, even if they’re not intending to come across that way.

“He’s getting worse,” is all Eight says, a hint of concern in his lowered voice. His eyes glower just slightly, but it’s enough for you to notice that he’s upset at this fact. Knowing that he cares even a little about your unfortunate position is comforting.

There’s not much that you need to say to him for the young man to understand completely what’s going on. There’s an unusual, silent exchange between you and the grey-clothed young man, wherein he guesses what’s happened and you merely nod in response. You say nothing other than “thank you” to Eight for his help. He merely exhales frustratedly through his nose, but doesn’t respond to your words of gratitude and merely goes back to his table. Rather than join his, Blue’s and Lav’s half of the conjoined tables, you’re drawn to the rightmost end when Five calls out to you, asking,

“Are you okay, hon?”

Despite the awkward silence of the room just earlier, things seem to go back to normal as everyone continues their work and chatter. You merely walk close to Five’s side and hold each of your arms while standing by the corner of the table near the twins and both peachy girls.

“I am now, I guess,” you try to joke with a light laugh. You’d rather not linger on your frustrations now that you’re in the company of your friends. It’s easier to talk to people like Cyrus, Lav, and Eight about this kind of thing when you’ve gotten so close to them. The others, you feel, shouldn’t be burdened with more than they need to. “I’ll be fine. I just had a shitty night. That’s all.”

“Tell me about it,” Six groans as she cuts into some thin cardboard. She senses your discomfort and helps move the conversation along for your sake, to draw the attention away from you. “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately. Again.”

“Why’s that?” You raise a brow, participating in her discussion while silently grateful for the segue. Six shrugs.

“I’m getting headaches. It just sometimes happens on and off. But Gale’s been trying to give me medicine to help me out.”

You glance down. “Oh, I remember you mentioning the headaches before. Is that…normal?”

“Considering they mess with our brains or something, probably,” Six laughs this off. “Peaches gets them from time to time herself, but that might also be because of what she’s sometimes given during…you know.”

“They know how to handle us,” Five says casually, adding to her girlfriend’s statement as she weaves yarn through holes punched into a small, round cardboard piece that you assume is supposed to be a head for some doll. “If they mess something up, they have the medicine or the means to fix it.”

She then glances worriedly at Three with her deep brown eyes. The young red-clothed girl has been largely silent during this exchange and has opted to focus on scribbling something on a page with a green marker. Two seems equally wary as he looks toward the peachy girls perpendicular to him with questioning eyes, so the subject is promptly dropped.

“Anyway, I’m surprised you’re all here,” You remark, catching the silent exchange and opting to switch topics. “I saw Blue and the twins here yesterday, so I didn’t think they’d come back. And I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here together.”

“Eight actually came in before all of us,” Two speaks up finally, looking up at you with a smile. “We all just sort of came and bothered him one by one, then never left.”

“Nine was the first one to start bugging me,” Eight loudly interjects from the other table without bothering to look up from his work. “Blue came in a while after to work on her art, so naturally the bevy followed. I’ve just been here trying to finish this.”

“We were in the rec room at first,” Five mentions to you. “But yeah, we did sort of just follow Blue. We figured it’d be nice to make it a group crafts day since we don’t always get to hang around here. We put the tables together to make it easier.”

“We’ve been making smaller dolls,” Three adds, contributing to the conversation now that it isn’t an unpleasant one to her. She then motions to the girls perpendicular to her, on her left. “Well, they have, anyway. I’ve just been doodling with my brother. I do wanna make more dolls, but I like big ones. Like the ones we have on the walls.”

“Well, they are all pretty silly,” you laugh, then glance down at the peachy girls. “Hey, Eight working on his stuff sort of reminded me: how’d your music lesson go? I was around the day you had it, but I didn’t wanna be a bother. I was hanging around Cyrus and Nine mostly.”

Five gives a wide smile and giggles. “It was fun! Eight’s not a bad teacher, and both of us were on our best behavior for him so that he’d be comfortable. We learned a few notes, but we’re still in need of practice. Plus, we have to learn what notes correspond to what positions on our instruments. So that’s another issue.”

“I have to teach myself a thing or two just to teach them,” Eight adds casually. “I don’t know every instrument personally, but it’s not hard for me to figure it out when I already know how to read music. But it’s not only teaching basic notes that’s going to be a part of it. There’s different octaves and scales that I need to address. I can’t say I’ll speak much about music theory, but I can definitely help them with the basics.”

“I have no idea what some of that means, but I’m glad it’s going well,” Lav chimes in with a charming laugh. Eight finally glances up from his work and looks at her with a raised brow.

“You could stand to learn a thing or two yourself,” he mentions. “I’d be willing to teach you as well if playing the viola is something you’d like to do.”

Lav lightly blushes, lightly surprised by this sentiment. “Uh, really?”

Eight’s green eyes flicker back down to his work, but he gives a subtle nod. You smile seeing the two Numbers interact. In fact, Eight seems a little less aggressive than he usually does, rather more neutral. You figure it’s progress. He at least doesn’t seem utterly bothered by everyone being around him when he would have rescinded otherwise. As long as he has a task or topic to keep his attention, you’re sure he’s alright.

“Well, in that case, maybe you oughtta come work out with me in exchange,” Lav teases, her light surprise replaced by cheekiness. “You could use the exercise, Einstein.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eight pouts, but Lav merely laughs.

“Sorry.”

She then looks on at you and smiles. “Hey, wanna sit with me? That way Eight can have his space.”

“I do like my space,” the grey-shirted young man casually adds. You’re surprised at how much more openly he’s making remarks. You admit, you rather like him this way. Much more than the jerk he was when you first met him. Though you’re sure he can still be a jerk if he wants.

“Well, we’re pretty surprised to be in it,” Blue half-mumbles, still utterly focused on her drawing. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to let us in or anything. I thought you were an irredeemable prick.”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Eight scoffs, drawing a music note on one of the lines of the scale he’d copied from his book. “But I wasn’t expecting it either. Frankly, I’m still adjusting to being so social.”

“It’s not being social if you just sit there,” Blue responds with a bit of a scoff herself. “Like, even I’m not really being social right now.”

“Well, I’m glad you took part,” you tell Eight casually, before he can make a crude remark to the girl. You finally move to Lav’s side of the table and sit to her left, beside Two. Seeing Eight’s slight discomfort at being given kind words, you leave this comment as is and immediately transition onward, not wanting to linger. “Anyway, do you like teaching?”

“I’ve only done it once,” the young man remarks as a reminder, raising a brow. “It’s not as hard as I thought if that’s what you mean. And, not to sound strange, but it’s nice to be listened to and taken seriously. I don’t dislike teaching like I thought I would.”

“Like we didn’t already take you seriously?” Lav tilts her head. She then ponders this statement a moment and then sighs. “Nevermind, I guess you’re right.”

Lav leans her head in one hand and watches Eight as he continues drawing notes. You notice that she’s the only one not really occupied with a project, so you ask curiously,

“Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“Nah,” Lav shrugs her shoulder. “I’m not the creative type. I’m ok with just being present and watching. It’s actually kinda relaxing. And I guess it’s a good way to practice the whole sitting still thing without actually meditating or something.”

She then frowns and glances over at the twins, noting that they’re wrapped up in their own conversation with the peachy girls beside them. Seeing this, she shifts her amber eyes back toward you and lowers her voice.

“Are you doing okay?” She asks. You hesitate a moment, but nod. This prompts your lavender companion to ask politely, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” you lie. “Yosuke’s just…being weird again.”

“It’s not nothing,” Lav refuses to believe you. “Why did he do that to you?”

You lower your eyes and put your hands in your lap, one over the other. “Because he saw the thing on my wrist. You know.”

Lav’s eyes then widen and she brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m totally sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “It’s his. He got a little possessive.”

“He’s been doing that a lot lately, it seems,” Eight comments without removing his focus from his work. Even he keeps his voice low, knowing to keep the twins’ attention off of this conversation as much as possible. “Nine told me what you’d told her and Cyrus the other day. I’m not much pleased to hear that he went that far with you.”

“What do you mean?” You question, blinking at him. You’re strangely not at all bothered by the fact that he was told about your disturbing date. It at least saves you the trouble of having to explain it yourself, which you’d rather not. Eight shrugs.

“He’s acting worse with you,” he says simply. “Even at the highest peak of his interest in me, he didn’t treat me much like he’s treating you. There wasn’t really any ‘romance’, so to speak. It was equally as domineering, sure, but not at all close to what he’s doing with you. He wasn’t as touchy. He wasn’t as captivated. He’s practically romanticizing his obsession of you. Even with Cyrus’ doctor, it’s a little different. She wants to act like a mother, so she plays whatever the fuck role she’s playing to fulfill some sick need to hover over something. She intertwines sex and motherhood like an insane person.”

“Mummy’s weird like that,” Blue lightly comments, still focused on her art. You’re shocked she’s not questioning what you, Lav, and Cyrus discussed, but perhaps she’s too busy to bother gossiping as much as she sometimes has. Watching her briefly, you see that she’s lightly and repeatedly swiping a white colored pencil carefully along her paper canvas, making short strokes. Though you can’t much tell what she’s drawing. The colored pencils she has are mostly various shades of purple, with a few black and white ones mixed in.

Attempting to put your curiosity aside, you then turn your attention back to Eight and frown.

“Normally people feel flattered when they’re seen as special,” you mention. “But I can’t stand it. I’m still fighting him as much as I can, but…I can’t avoid him. Even when I try, he’s always there. Even when I try to think about something else with other people, I’m reminded of him. And he wants me to remember him. That’s why he tied me up like that.”

“But why leave you like that?” Eight raises a brow and flickers his eyes upward. “I wager he’s trying to send some kind of a message. But it hardly matters when we all sort of know how he is with you.”

“You aren’t too far off,” you admit. “But I’d rather not talk about why.”

Eight then glances over at Lav and remains silent a moment. He almost laughs when he figures out what you hoped he wouldn’t, presumably piecing it together because of the earlier comments you two made between one another. This silent guess makes both you and Lav look away from him sheepishly. However, Eight says nothing of it. He merely returns to his work and passes this over so as not to embarrass you.

“He’s been more territorial lately, I suppose,” he remarks. “I worry for you. Sympathize with you, even. I don’t often do that. Nor do I admit to it so openly.”

“That’s not really true, is it?” Lav questions, redirecting the focus of the conversation away from her and you briefly fooling around together. For as open as she tends to be, she’s respectfully quiet about it for your sake. “You know, Violet and all.”

Eight glowers lightly, but before he has a chance to respond, Blue tosses her pencil on the table and brings her arms up to stretch. Loudly, she proclaims with a satisfied groan,

“Done!”

The high volume of her voice causes everyone on the other end of the table to finally look over, and you’re forced to drop whatever it is you were discussing with Eight and Lav.

“What?!” Three calls out with eagerness, her eyes shining. She leans forward and reaches her arm in Blue’s direction, motioning eagerly. “Let us see!”

Blue pouts and holds the flat board she’s using as a surface for her art more toward herself, shielding it from the eyes of anyone else.

“No way!” She childishly rejects the red-haired girl. “Not yet anyway.”

“But you said you’d let us see when you’re done, right?” You question. Blue shakes her head and continues to look at everyone with her pouting face.

“Uhm, I said no such thing,” she insists, holding up a hand and wagging her finger lightly. “You all assumed I’d show you right away. Kinda your bad on that one.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Six asks curiously, raising her thick brow. “We’re all here. It’s a perfect time to show it off.”

Blue prepares to open her mouth again, but she stops and drops her pouting expression when she catches sight of something across the room. You glance over to where she’s looking and note that the doors of the entrance have opened, and standing there is a sheepish Violet.

Like clockwork, everyone follows both yours and Blue’s wandering gazes, and lands their eyes upon the room’s newest entrant, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Both the peach girlfriends end up having to turn their bodies slightly to catch sight of Violet, but they immediately pause and look at her without knowing what to say.

Even from where she is, you can see the young woman getting fairly uncomfortable as she shifts her gaze around and avoids eye contact with anyone in particular. She stands at the entrance a moment, frozen with what you figure is uncertainty on whether or not she should step in. With how awkward you felt entering the room with all eyes on you, you’d hardly blame the girl for deciding to walk right out instead. If she’s not ready, she shouldn’t feel obligated to come in. You hope she knows that and doesn’t force herself too much, even if you suggested she try.

Despite the setback and her hesitation, Violet finally decides to move further into the room, her feet lightly tapping against the hard floor as her light brown flesh presses into it with each step. She stops when she reaches close to Five and Six. Her dark eyes remain fixated on the floor for a little while, but she forces herself to glance up at the table. Violet scans around the area, observing everyone. Her chest rises and falls just slightly faster as her fear no doubt grows. However, she tries to speak after noticing how long the questioning stares have gone unanswered.

“D-do you guys mind if I sit with you?” She stammers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Both the peach girlfriends stop looking blankly at the girl and instead smile warmly.

“Sure,” Five speaks first, her voice sweet and lively. “We’d love to have you.”

Blue looks away after Violet’s question, sitting there silently while her acquaintance’s dark eyes wander to the side of the table opposite of the twins, near Eight’s end of the other table. Violet glances at the young man who, by now, has returned to his work so as not to put the girl off by staring.

“Um…thanks,” she responds sheepishly to Five’s friendly words. Quietly, she steps near Eight, but doesn’t yet take a seat near him. Instead, she calls his Number, prompting the grey young man to look up at her with his light green eyes.

Violet doesn’t yet say anything to him beyond calling his number, though she strangely sticks out her right arm and extends her palm.

“What are you doing?” Eight questions her with genuine uncertainty in his voice. Violet blushes, and you can see her growing visibly more uncomfortable the longer the room’s silence lingers.

“I…heard you kind of stuck up for me,” she says quietly. “I just thought I’d say thank you.”

Eight lowers a brow and glances over at you. “And where did you hear that?”

You give him a subtle shrug and a sheepish smile as if to apologize for blabbing about the very thing he didn’t want to make known. You’d wanted Violet to feel assured, but hadn’t expected her to actually tell him she heard what she did. Still, you’re not much surprised he assumed it was you. He’s always thought of you as the chatty type, and even if he might not have known you spoke intricately with Violet, he knows you always try to talk to everyone when you can.

Violet glances over at you for just a second before returning her focus to Eight.

“Somewhere.” She remains vague, not realizing Eight’s already figured it out by now. “I just figured I’d show my gratitude this way since I know you’re a more formal kind of person. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Eight looks up at Violet’s hand a moment and exhales heavily through his nose. However, he raises his left hand and takes hers in it to shake, reciprocating her offer.

“I’m glad you’re doing better, Violet.” he says briefly. The girl before him lightly smiles, but still remains somewhat sheepish as she stands there. After the handshake, Blue makes a move of her own. She stands up then, sighing as she takes her art and slips it off the thing she’d used to steady it. Without saying much at first, she merely hands the paper face-up to Violet and looks away.

“Here,” she finally tells her. “This is for you.”

Violet’s eyes widen when she catches sight of the image on the paper, and she hesitates to take it in her hands at first.

“You made this?” She asks without taking her eyes off the page. Blue merely responds with a light wave of the thing to urge Violet to take it, which she finally does. She examines the page from behind her round glasses with genuine awe and surprise. “…I don’t know what to say.”

“Uh, I dunno, maybe a thanks I guess?” Blue shrugs. She doesn’t sound demanding, but rather like she has no idea what to really tell Violet. “Look, it took me all day and all morning. I know it’s not much, but it’s like, something I wanted to do. I guess as a way to make up for being a cunt sometimes.”

Violet lowers a brow and glances up at Blue finally. “Sometimes?”

Blue pouts. “Hey, you’re one to talk, you know.”

This, of all things, makes Violet finally laugh. Her sudden positive reaction takes most everyone else at the tables off guard, though she tries to keep herself focused on Blue.

“I guess so,” she answers the blonde young woman. “Sorry.”

She pauses a moment to examine the artwork in her hands and lightly frowns. “For as nice as this is, I can’t really do much with it, you know.”

“Eh, we could stick it on a wall if you can’t sneak it to your room,” Blue shrugs. “Whatever it is you wanna do with it, since it’s yours.”

“Hey, don’t be stingy!” Three calls out with a light giggle. “Show it to us!”

“Yeah, I’m curious now,” Six adds with a grin. “I’m assuming Violet’s the one you were waiting for, huh Blue?”

The baby blue girl shrugs again and looks away. “Yeah. And?”

You laugh to yourself at the girl’s hesitancy at being openly kind to Violet. Obviously the both of them have to adjust to it. You wouldn’t exactly say the girls are close friends, but they’re at least learning to be less hostile to one another.

Blue gives a nod to Violet, indicating that it’s fine for her to share the artwork. Having her say-so, Violet turns the page around in her hands and shows its contents off to the others. Upon the page, you see an image of Violet resting in a bed of purple flowers, a gradient of shades upon every bit of the page to recreate a soft lighting that just delicately touches the surface of both the flowers and Violet’s skin. The effect almost makes it look as though she’s glowing.

Though it’s not entirely realistic, the art is still quite well-structured, and the colors pop out on the page. The light purple hues surrounding Violet’s body make it look like she’s been outlined by them, and they only highlight the beauty in her darker skin rather than overpower it.

“Woow!” Three gasps, leaning in to examine the artwork in awe. “She looks so pretty!”

“Because she is pretty,” Five adds with a sweet smile. Her comment makes Violet blush and look away in embarrassment.

“Sorry if it’s not super accurate or detailed,” Blue casually apologizes, as if finding error in her work when she’s the only one here who can actually draw well. “I kind of didn’t have a reference with Violet off on her own. So, I had to go with what I could remember.”

“You kidding? It looks really nice,” Lav compliments, her eyes curiously fixated on the artwork as she continues leaning her head against her hand. “I wish I had skills like that.”

“For what it’s worth, it looks quite close,” Eight adds in a very reserved fashion. Of course he wouldn’t give an outright compliment, but nobody seems to mind this kind of thing from him now. They’re becoming privier to his nature, and slightly more accepting his unusual style of what you could loosely call kindness.

“I don’t know much about that kind of art,” Two chimes in, “But, y’know. It’s pretty cool. I’m assuming those flowers are violets?”

“Duh,” Blue scoffs. This makes Two chuckle.

“Look, I’m not a flowers kind of guy, but I know some. Anyway, how’d you manage to do that so fast?”

“Well, I did nothing else but this,” Blue answers openly. “Like, I didn’t really even eat that morning. I only had dinner. Plus, when you’re able to do that stuff and you do it often, it really doesn’t take that drastically long. It wasn’t a hyperrealistic thing anyway. That would take me like, a couple of days.”

“Do you wanna pin it somewhere?” Three asks Violet, making the girl’s wandering eyes snap back into focus.

“I guess so,” she says simply, glancing down at the artwork again. “It might be better off in here. At least then I can come look at it whenever I want.”

She then looks over at Blue and smiles slightly.

“Thanks, Blue.”

The light blonde merely shrugs again and looks up. “Uh, yeah, don’t mention it…Vi.”

Violet says nothing after this, but gives a subtle nod to acknowledge the baby blue girl. Quietly, she steps away from the table to look for a place to pin the artwork, while Three gets up and follows her so she can help her do so. As she goes to a nearby shelf to grab tape, Violet’s eyes wander around the room until she spots one particular wall, on an area between two cabinets, and freezes. You notice her sudden hesitation and look over to where she’s glancing only to see the doll of Jade you, Three, and Cyrus made, resting against the wall.

In her surprise at seeing the thing, Violet almost drops Blue’s picture, but immediately gets a grip on the page between her fingers so that it doesn’t fall and get damaged. Three, having retrieved what she needed, turns back to Violet and notices her eyeing the Jade doll.

“What’s wrong?” She asks curiously. “You look kinda freaked out.”

“I…didn’t know this was here,” Violet says solemnly, not once taking her eyes off the doll. You look on at her worriedly, but say nothing. The others merely watch her as she reaches out to touch the pipe cleaner hair on the thing with her fingertips.

“Oh yeah, me, Cyrus, and Ten made it together a while ago,” Three smiles, her cheerfulness unwavering. She has no clue about Violet’s issue with Jade, and even as she can see the dark-haired girl’s visible hesitance, she doesn’t appear to let her chipper mood sour. “Do you like it?”

Violet’s eyelids slightly lower as her solemness grows. “It looks a lot like her.”

“That was the idea,” Three giggles, still oblivious to what’s going on. You start to wonder if she’d be upset knowing what Violet thought of Jade. But, you suppose she’ll never have to know.

Violet gives a light inhale, followed by a slow exhale.

“I didn’t really know Jade that well,” she admits with a low voice. “But…I heard she was nice. I guess maybe I should have tried giving her more of a chance. Or at least tried seeing her more.”

You look on at Violet with worry, but can say nothing to her in comfort without divulging that you know what you do. You’re sure she knows you’re concerned.

“I mean, don’t feel bad,” Lav speaks up in your stead, giving a light shrug. “I didn’t get to know her very well myself. Neither did Eight.

“She was important to everyone,” Eight remarks in addition to Lav’s statement. “It’s unfortunate that we didn’t exactly know her. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t one of us.”

“And what about the other Numbers?” Violet questions suddenly, turning herself and staring at Eight with hurtful eyes. “We didn’t even know them. Even when I had the chance to meet at least a few of them, I barely got to know who they were. Everyone here has memories of them that we don’t. We’re outcasts. We don’t have what the others did. We were hardly even close to anyone until recently!”

She glances at Three’s face which has morphed from cheer to worry, and this causes Violet to shake her head and slow herself down.

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologizes, flustered. “I just…”

Three looks down for a moment, but eventually tries to pick her smile back up.

“It’s okay,” she assures her. “I know you guys came later. But we still care about you.”

“And even if you didn’t really get to know the others, it’s not like you aren’t one of them,” Two adds from the table. “You aren’t so different from them. You’re still connected because you’re here.”

“Peaches and I didn’t know all of them either,” Six chimes in assuredly. “We really only got to meet a few of the other Numbers before they were gone. But I’m sure they would have liked you.”

Violet looks down and says nothing, though she doesn’t much looked convinced. She only looks back up when Eight speaks this time.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for not having known them,” he says bluntly, dropping his hand as he stops focusing on his work. He glances at Violet with his light green eyes. “Even if you missed out on it, you’re here now with people who are willing to show you their respect.”

“What he means is, you have a family,” Lav interjects, translating Eight’s words in her own way. “We go through these ups and downs, but we’re all here, and we all have to stick together. The past is past. If you don’t have memories of the other Numbers, so what? You’re making new memories now. We shouldn’t overlook the past, but we shouldn’t let it define our worth either.”

“Yeah, so like, just shut up and be our friend already,” Blue adds with a shrug. “Jade’s gone. She meant a lot to us. Some more than others probably. But so what if you didn’t know her? Not the end of the world, you know. Just get to know us instead.”

Violet looks away and frowns. “You guys are trying really hard to make me feel better. You don’t have to.”

“We want to,” Five says with a smile. “You’re still one of us, you know. And we know you’ve been feeling a bit down. We just want to make sure things are okay with you.”

You can tell how uncomfortable the praise and attention are making Violet, but you also know the others can’t much help themselves. Especially not people like Five who tend to be hovering and motherly at times. You’re glad they all care so much. Five had even been that way before she got to know you well.

“Here,” Three calls out to Violet, her voice shaking you from your brief thoughts. She takes the picture from the dark-haired girl and tapes it to the wall above the Jade doll. “That way you can be close to her. I know it isn’t much, but…”

Violet looks over at the doll, then Blue’s art, as if assessing them both.

“I don’t deserve this,” she eventually mutters. “I really don’t.”

“Hey, I am not letting you chew yourself out over stupid shit,” Blue says firmly, placing one hand on her hip and waving the other around. “Vi, do you want to be a part of our group or not?”

“I mean…” Violet hesitates. “…I do, but you don’t under-“

“Do you?” Blue questions again, interrupting the girl and sounding more persistent this time. Violet shuts herself up and scoffs in frustration at being interrupted. However, she gives a long inhale before sighing.

“Yes. I do,” she says firmly.

“Then welcome to the club,” Two laughs. “We’re happy to have you.”

“And don’t think that you being in with us means I won’t keep a sharp eye on you,” Blue adds with a point of her finger toward Violet. “I’m not letting your bad feelings ruin things for you. ‘Kay?”

Violet blushes. “Um…thanks.”

“No prob!” Six chimes in with a grin. “But hey, try not to hide away so much when you need to talk to someone, alright? We’re all ears. We don’t want things to eat at you.”

You look on at Six, wondering if she remembers Violet’s initial behavior as per her entry in the journal she kept before. If she does, she may be choosing to overlook it now. Lav did just say not to be so hung up on the past, anyway.

Violet says nothing, likely because she has nothing else to say. You’re sure she’s both flattered and embarrassed being fawned over like this. You’d honestly feel the same in her position. Still, you’re glad the others are so willing to take her in. You’re surprised even Eight tried to be open to her. Perhaps she needs someone like him who gets where she might be coming from. The others are too upbeat in nature and can sometimes be overbearing to a girl like her. She seems like someone who needs the attention and affirmation, but simultaneously doesn’t know how to respond to that sort of thing. Can’t much blame her, though.

“Hey, if you want,” Five speaks up with a curious suggestion, “we can tell you more about the other Numbers. I’m sure you, Eight, Nine, and Ten really don’t know that much.”

“I mean, I’ve heard little mentions here and there,” Lav shrugs. “Eight?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, if that’s what you need to hear,” Is all the young man says. “But…”

He glances over at you knowingly. The only time you really heard much about the other Numbers was always when it was about something awful that happened to them: disappearances, deaths, pregnancies, miseries. Being told about the others’ unfortunate fates wasn’t exactly fun. Hearing of the previous Numbers in a different light might help to alleviate the stress following the lingering self-awareness of death. You still fear the concept, especially after it became more apparent and real for you. You’re sure most everyone here does, even with the relaxed attitude they try to take toward it. It’s not like it’s easy to think about.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind hearing about them,” You speak up finally, realizing you’ve been letting your mind wander again. “I don’t know very much about them either, Vi, since I’m so new. Maybe we could learn together.”

“I suppose,” is her only response. She has a crestfallen expression on her face, and doesn’t really appear to know what else to say. She quietly moves back to her place by Eight and sits by the table end next to him. Two, meanwhile, looks over at his sister with concern as she follows Violet’s lead and sits beside her brother.

“Do you think you’ll be okay?” He asks her. Three frowns as she contemplates this, then bites her lip. However, she eventually nods.

“It couldn’t hurt,” she says. “Besides…they have the right to know more. I just…”

Two glances down. “I know.”

The room goes silent a moment, with nobody really having an idea of how to clear the solemn atmosphere that’s suddenly settled in. Blue, unsurprisingly, is the first to break this silence.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can draw them out for you,” she suggests with another wave of her hand. She goes to one of the shelves to pull out fresh paper, a pencil, and some more colored pencils. Two raises a brow as his brown eyes follow her to the shelf and back to her end of the table.

“Do you really wanna do that after just getting through one art project?” He asks. Blue shrugs.

“Look, your sister, Ten, and Cyrus made a doll of Jade. Maybe we could do the same for the others,” she says aloud, also addressing everyone in the room. “I have no idea if any of them are alive, but I know for sure we’re never going to see them again. I know that sucks to hear, but maybe we could do this to honor their memory or something. I can start us off with little sketches, and we can make dolls from that. What do you think?”

“That’s kind of a big project, isn’t it?” Lav remarks. Five giggles.

“It is, but there’s a bunch of us here to tackle it,” she notes. “I think it’s a good idea. But it’s up to you guys.”

“Maybe we should,” Three adds with a light frown. “When I helped make that doll of Jade, it was because I had forgotten what she looked like. I wouldn’t want to forget the others either.”

You glimpse Two moving to gently touch his sister’s hand from under the table, but say nothing. Rather, you give a nod to everyone to indicate your willingness to partake in this project. The others seem to agree to go along with it with the exception of Eight, who merely pauses his scribbling to heave a sigh.

“I suppose I won’t be able to concentrate with that kind of talk going on,” he mulls it over. “So I’ll save this for another time and will myself to help you.”

Finally, he drops his pencil and folds his work over to hide it. Quietly, he closes his reference book and places it atop the paper, then leans his elbows on the table like Lav. Although he’s agreed to participate, he looks down at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone in particular. Violet seems to do the same, though you’re sure she’s still adjusting to being in the group right now. Even so, she gives a quick “okay” to indicate that she’s willing to take part as well.

“God, where do we even start?” Six gives a half-laugh, running her hand through her short hair. “We didn’t all know everyone too well.”

“We can always start in order,” Three speaks up with a light smile. “My brother and I didn’t really know the other Two and Three, but we did know everyone after. Though, some only briefly.”

“We only met Four a few times,” Two adds, starting things off. “Cyrus and some of the others had said he was actually really nice before. But when we came, he wasn’t really his supposed old self. It’s not that he was mad at us or anything, he was just frustrated. Apparently he was close to the Numbers we replaced, and it was just a bad time for him. He tried to treat us nicely, but he was too wrapped up in his own misery to really interact much with us.”

“What about his appearance, guys?” Blue calls out from her end of the table. “I need you to be a bit clear with that since I don’t totally remember them all myself.”

“Right, sorry,” Two gives a weak attempt at a laugh, though he doesn’t appear too thrilled to recount this all. Evidently, there are unpleasant memories mixed with pleasant ones. “Um, he wore white. He had this dark brown hair and brown skin. Not actually unlike Violet’s skin, but it was a little warmer I think.”

“He had brown eyes too,” Three adds with a light smile. “He looked like a sweet guy. When he was upset, I just felt bad for him because all I remember seeing in him was hurt. The others said he was pretty calm and level-headed, and even if I never got to see him that way, I don’t really doubt it.”

“As for Five, we called her Penny,” Two moves on. “She wore red kind of like us, but it wasn’t exactly a red, red. I can’t really explain it. I think she had light brown eyes, but I don’t really remember. Oh, and her hair was dark and short.”

“Not as short as Six’s, though,” Three corrects him. “You remember, right Blue?”

“A little,” is the baby blue girl’s response as she focuses on drawing quick doodles of the Numbers as they’re discussed. “I didn’t know her for very long. She kinda disappeared. I didn’t hang around her much, so I don’t really remember her face too well.”

You look down hearing this. Penny had been the girl Cyrus said died in her sleep. Only he got to really see what happened, though that’s hardly a positive. You’re sure the others know that Penny died since Cyrus had said he tried to tell everyone about what happened without being specific. But perhaps saying “disappeared” is easier.

“I remember her being super relaxed,” Two laughs. “We even used to joke around about her being our long-lost sister since she wore red kind of like us. Even though she was pretty upset by a lot of the stuff going on around here, she still laughed with us sometimes.”

“Well, with you anyway,” Three says with a light frown. “I was still in a bad place then.”

Two stops laughing and looks at his sister worriedly, but then glances down and sighs. “Right.”

“I can probably vouch for Six and Seven,” Blue chimes in, picking things up now that the twins seem to be a bit more solemn again, in want of letting them recuperate from having to reminisce a few unpleasant things. “I do remember them a little. Six we called Amber, and Seven we called Olive. You can probably guess why.”

Amber’s name also strikes a chord as you recall Cyrus talking about her death. And Olive, you only really remember hearing about from Six’s journal. Even Cyrus hadn’t known what happened to Olive, only that she stopped showing up.

Blue quickly pencils in two figures on her paper, then scribbles color loosely on the drawings to give a general sense of appearance. She holds up her paper for both tables to see, and everyone leans in with interest, save for Eight and Violet who merely glance over. Blue points first to Amber’s doodle, which has been colored with a tannish skin tone, one that doesn’t look particularly different from Jonathan’s, but certainly less golden. Her long hair has been colored a dark brown, though her eyes have been filled in with a slightly more golden shade of brown. As you figured, her gown is amber colored.

“I remember her looking something like this,” Blue explains. “Amber was like, super posh. She was kind of a bitch sometimes, but she was also capable of being nice.”

“You mean like you?” Violet questions with a raised brow. Blue merely pouts in response.

“Hey, I’m totally nice.”

“Amber does sound almost like you,” Eight remarks, agreeing with Violet. “I’m assuming you two were friends in that case.”

“Okay, whatever,” Blue scoffs. “We were similar, sure. But we weren’t exactly friends. I remember her and I getting into arguments sometimes because we were both stubborn. But she was nice when she wanted to be. She just didn’t like admitting that she was capable of being that way. Kinda like you, Eight.”

Eight lightly scowls and looks away, but says nothing.

“I remember Amber spending less time with us the worse things got,” Five remarks with a worried expression. “I guess she didn’t know how to deal with it. She still acted like herself around us, but she didn’t seem too willing to stick around to talk about things when the topics got heavy. But I can’t blame her. We were all pretty freaked out with things going south now and again.”

“She kind of did what I do,” Three admits. “But she didn’t act scared or anything. She just left. She acted like she was disgusted by certain topics and would roll her eyes and walk off. She did that a lot when she didn’t agree with people, so we just figured she was acting the same way as always.”

She sighs. “But I remember even for as snooty as she could be sometimes, she was really respectful of me. She saw how I was and didn’t make fun of me for it. But we didn’t really talk a lot anyway.”

Blue looks away a moment in thought, her brows lowering. However, she moves the conversation along and refuses to linger on these thoughts too long. She points to Olive’s picture next, where you see she’s colored in a chubby girl with pale skin and medium-length, light blonde hair. Strangely, even her eyes have the same olive color as her gown.

“Olive had freckles like me,” Blue beams. “I remember Amber poking fun at me for saying Olive was just my fatter twin sister, though. Like, ouch.”

“Did you actually like Amber?” Lav questions with a lowered brow. “Sounds like you hated her by the way you’re talking.”

Blue shrugs her shoulders. “Look, we were a weird group back then.”

“We didn’t all get along all the time,” Two elaborates, leaning slightly against the table on his free arm. “We fought a lot, we made fun of each other, we kept our distance, all that. We did start sticking together more as time went on, but…I dunno. Amber was a bitch at times, sure. But she was also nice too. Everyone had their ups and downs. Even if in some moments what she said was kinda mean, we did still miss her when she was gone.”

Blue flickers her eyes toward the ceiling in thought. “Well, anyway, Olive was kinda nice. She was like, a gentle giant I guess. She was a little on the big side, but she really wasn’t the angry type. She always had this neutral expression that we always thought was her being angry or judgmental. She had to tell us that it was just her face.”

”Yeah, I was a little afraid of her at first!” Three almost laughs. “But she was really sweet.”

“Well actually, she could hold her own,” Five comments with a light giggle. “Olive was a real sweetie, but she wasn’t afraid to be tough if she had to be. She could take a lot. More than me, for sure.”

Six smirks. “You two did talk quite a bit before you and I got together. I almost thought you liked her.”

“But I did,” Five looks at her girlfriend and blinks. “She was a friend. We had a lot in common, being the only big girls of the group. We had to stick together.”

“I guess,” Six laughs and leans into Five. Violet merely looks down and lightly frowns.

“So…I replaced her?” She questions, almost mumbling. “You had a nice girl and then I came in, right?”

“Hey, the past is past,” Six answers her with a light smile, still resting her head on Five’s shoulder. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah, you were kind of a cunt to everyone when you first came,” Blue shrugs her shoulder. “Like, even when we tried to be nice you were just really mean and defensive. But I guess I get why. You just took a long time to adjust.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Violet grumbles as her embarrassment toward her prior attitude grows. “I know I sucked.”

“Well hey, think of it this way: now you ‘suck’ a little less,” Lav jokes with a smirk. “Just focus on the now, okay?”

“Besides, the previous Eight was just as timid then,” Six adds with a nod. She pushes off of Five and sits back up. “I don’t know if you remember her, but she was really shy and skittish. She wasn’t capable of being super mean, but she was definitely in a bad spot.”

“Do you remember what she looks like?” Blue questions. “I don’t much.”

Six looks up, pondering this.

“Curly, medium hair, I think,” she mulls it over. “Dark brown maybe? And she wore yellow.”

“We wanted to call her Sunny, but she didn’t really like the idea,” Five chuckles as she remembers the girl. “She had freckles and green eyes too if I recall. And her skin was a tinge tan, but still pretty light.”

Eight was the one Cyrus had mentioned tried to run away. She was said to have disappeared if you recall. Cyrus only supposed she might have gotten caught planning an escape, but couldn’t confirm her whereabouts. She’s being described as someone who was too timid to act. For someone like her to actually do so, she must have been driven hard. You remember Cyrus mentioning her being attached to the previous Nine, after all.

“I hardly interacted with her,” Violet says quietly. “I guess I should have. But the way I was then, I might have just made things worse for her.”

“She did kinda feel bad that you snapped at her,” Five admits sheepishly, tucking some hair behind her ear. “But again, you were still so new. Anyway, like Nine said, it’s in the past. All that you need to know is that Eight was a really gentle person. She was really hesitant and meek, but could be sweet sometimes.”

“Eight and I talked a few times because of it,” says Three. “She and I had that in common, so each of us felt kinda comfortable knowing that we weren’t the only ones who didn’t like talking about all this stuff. Still, I hung around my brother mostly, even back then. I remember her getting a little jealous that I didn’t always wanna talk to her.”

Two scoffs as he remembers this. “She was pretty passive aggressive with me at some point. But she was never confident enough to be straight up mean. Plus, I guess she was just projecting a lot. I remember Amber picking on her a little here and there, mostly in the beginning. She backed off after things went south, the way she did with my sis. Maybe Eight had just been frustrated, but didn’t know what to do about it.”

“It happens,” Violet shrugs subtly. “I speak from experience. Maybe Eight and I would have been friends if we’d had the time to get to know each other. Maybe when I mellowed out.”

“You could always try being friends with our Eight,” Blue jokes, making the grey-clothed young man beside Violet scowl slightly. “Somehow we got another nice person replaced with an asshole.”

“What of it?” Eight questions. “Maybe you just need to learn to deal with it.”

Blue scoffs. “Puh-lease. You just need to learn to not be a dick.”

“I figured you were accustomed to dealing with dicks,” Eight responds without skipping a beat. This makes Blue blush and clutch her pencil tightly.

“Of course I am, but that’s beside the point, asshole!” She calls out with light offense, clearly never expecting him to make a joke like that to her. Two starts to laugh at this remark, making Eight glance over at him with his light green eyes. After a brief moment, he follows with a light smirk.

Lav, still with her head resting in her hand, gives a light laugh in response to the scene. She then tries to re-focus the topic upon seeing a clearly unamused Three glaring at her brother disapprovingly and with a light pout for his decision to laugh at Eight’s jab.

“Alright, alright,” Lav speaks up. “Anyway, what about the other Nine? I haven’t heard much of who she used to be. I’m curious about who I replaced.”

You glance at Lav worriedly. She probably remembers Cyrus’ recollecting his experience of watching the girl die. You’re glad she’s able to put that aside to try seeing her In a positive light. It’s helped put things into perspective to hear everyone talking so openly about the other Numbers. You can’t fully imagine what it was like for them before, but the personal accounts do give you a bit more of an idea. It sounds like everyone did struggle and argue now and again, like your group now. You always felt like a bit of an outcast knowing how connected and well-adjusted everyone already was. But you’d been reminded that you were so new, it would take time to get to that level.

You wonder if the others had ever gotten that close, or if they’d had enough time to get to know one another well. How long you’ve been here, you don’t know. But you feel as though you’ve made significant progress in getting closer to everyone than you really expected. You almost shudder to think that this won’t last forever. Realistically, it can’t. But like most everyone, you just don’t want to think hard about it. Not in this moment, at least.

Maybe there is a chance that things can go differently than they had with other groups because of how much time the doctors have had to learn from their mistakes and figure out a more stable system. You aren’t even sure what their goal is other than to use you for their own pleasure. How long can they really keep that up before getting bored of you? Will you age several years before they decide they’re done? Will you die before then?

“Nine was a good friend to me,” Blue’s voice interrupts your grim thoughts. “I mean, you guys are totally sitting here making fun of me for being like Amber, but Nine was the one who was most like me. Or at least really got who I was. A little less straightforward, sure. But still close.”

Needing no help recalling the girl’s description, Blue proceeds to doodle the previous Nine on the paper before her. She fills in her gown with a light teal color, her shoulder-length hair with a deep red, and her eyes a light blue. Her skin is filled in last, with a warm ivory tone. When finished, Blue then shows everyone at the tables and smiles.

“She was really cool,” your sprightly friend elaborates. “Like, she could be all responsible and nice when she had to be, but she knew how to have fun too. Plus, she kind of helped me get through my shittier moments, so…yeah.”

“Right, I almost forgot how you were before,” Two comments, raising a brow. “I guess you’ve really changed.”

“She’d already been pretty upbeat when I came around,” Five mentions to everyone with a smile. “But I’m glad. I like seeing people smile.”

Blue pouts a bit, puffing out a cheek as attention is drawn to this part of who she was. However, she tries not to stay this way for long and immediately drops her bothered expression when Six speaks next.

“Thinking on it, maybe that’s why Eight gravitated toward Nine so much,” she ponders aloud, rubbing her chin. “Nine was really sweet and patient to someone like Eight when other people might have gotten tired of her timidity. I remember Eight talking about her a lot too, when Blue wasn’t with her.”

“I do remember seeing Eight hang around Nine when I was able to pay attention,” Violet affirms this. She then raises a dark brow. “I guess she moved on from one redhead to the other.”

“What?!” Three blushes. “Are you saying she liked me?”

Violet shrugs. “I have no idea. But you said she hung around you too for a while until your brother put her off. So who knows? I sure don’t.”

Three blushes and buries her head in her hands. “Oh no, I think you’re right!”

Two merely pats his sister on the back and laughs in amusement despite his attempt to console the girl from her unexpected revelation. You glance over at Blue then with slightly upturned brows.

“Do you miss the other Nine?” You ask. “You never talked about her before.”

“Huh?” Blue blinks her baby blue eyes at you. “Uh, yeah. I mean, of course I do. But I feel like overthinking it would just make me sad. So…I dunno. I’d rather move forward. It’s nice to reminisce sometimes, but not get hung up on it.”

“Yeah. Those of us who remember the others do miss them,” Six speaks up. “It’s not exactly fun to think about the past if it makes you sad, though.”

Finally coming down from her earlier shock, Three drops her hands and looks over to you, giving off a light frown.

“It’s not like looking ahead means you’re forgetting people before you,” She says. “It just means you don’t want to be weighed down by grief. That’s what works for Blue and a few others. For me, I don’t wanna forget people because I don’t like the idea of being forgotten. Even if it sometimes hurts to remember certain things by association, I’d rather not forget anyone.”

You look down. “I know what you mean. I don’t really like the idea of being forgotten or forgetting people either. It’s kind of scary. As it is, I don’t like that I can’t remember people who were probably very close to me in my life. You know, like family and friends. I can’t imagine losing you guys too.”

“Why would you?” Eight questions warily. “You haven’t been doing anything to draw attention to yourself, have you?”

“No, I just mean in general,” you answer him, looking up at the young man. “You guys are reminiscing about the other Numbers, but you’re forgetting one.”

“Right,” Lav responds with a sigh. “But, we don’t really have any memory of who Ten was. So, there’s not much to go off of.”

Blue scoffs. “Honestly, I’m not even sure he’s real. Maybe this is all some stupid joke the doctors are playing with us. I mean, if they can take memories away, they can probably plant new ones, right?”

“That’s not how memory works,” Eight shoots out. “You can’t just inject false memories into someone with chemicals or something. You could probably alter recollection by messing with neural links, which is what I’m assuming they did with us. But the worst you can do with false memory is just enforce one that’s already been made.”

Blue lowers a sharp brow. “Huh?”

“What do you mean false memory?” You ask for clarification, your attention grabbed by the topic. Eight sighs and straightens himself up, no longer leaning against the table.

“Look, sometimes we recall things incorrectly,” he clarifies. “Sometimes small details like where we put certain things, other times it’ll be bigger stuff like important details that shape our perspective of something. It’s natural to just fuck up remembering something correctly. So if we get it wrong, that’s a false memory.”

“Geez, how do you know all that?” Lav questions with a lowered brow. Eight scowls.

“Are you seriously asking me that? We have a library,” he answers sharply. “There’s a lot of material that they don’t give us and that they censor, but you can learn a lot of things from books you don’t expect. Psychology textbooks sometimes talk about memory and recall. It’s not hard.”

“You lost me at ‘textbook’,” Two responds with a bored expression.

“So that means we could be remembering things wrong?!” Three cries out with genuine upset in her voice. Her brows are upturned now, and her lips curved in a frown. “So is what we’re remembering wrong too?”

Eight sighs and rubs his temples. “I didn’t say that it was. I don’t doubt that you are remembering the other Numbers correctly when they were that prominent in your life. But there might be little insignificant things you might have recalled incorrectly. Especially things that are hazy to begin with. But even if that’s the case, It’s not like you can do anything about it. It doesn’t help us. The main issue is the fact that we don’t remember a lot of things. That they took our memory from us to begin with.”

“Well, Cyrus said the previous Ten wore orange,” You point out, recalling an old conversation with him. “Does that mean that memory could be false if it’s kind of a vague, hazy one?”

“I don’t know,” Eight shrugs. “Possibly. Possibly not. All that really tells me is that he was close to the other Ten, if he can recall any kind of detail at all whereas others can’t. Blue’s convinced Ten wasn’t even real, but Cyrus insists that he was.”

“And he still remembers Jade so strongly,” Three remarks, looking away. “So…they must have been close too.”

Eight nods. “It could also be an emotional connection. Memory and emotion are often connected. You remember your friends so clearly because of your emotional connection to them, whereas others don’t remember specific things like their faces. In Cyrus’ case, maybe he had some emotional attachment to Ten that others didn’t.”

“Maybe they were close friends,” Lav suggests. “Or something else.”

“Cyrus doesn’t much strike me as the type,” Blue laughs. “Or does he? Hell, I have no idea”

Violet scowls slightly. “Can we maybe not talk about this?”

This bitter question makes Blue stop herself and widen her eyes a bit. “Oh, sorry. I guess you’re right. We’re here to make a memorial or whatever, right? Why don’t we split into teams? We can make dolls faster that way.”

“How so?” Six questions. “You mean like assigning a Number to each of us?”

Blue nods, then stands up and puts a hand on her hip while holding the paper of Number drawings between her other fingers.

“We’d cover more ground that way,” she says. “The twins and I are pretty used to creative stuff, so we can tackle multiples if need be. They can do Four and Penny. Me and Lav can work on Eight and Nine, and the rest of you can handle the other three.”

“I think Peaches and I should handle Amber,” Five suggests. “Her long hair might take a little while to get done.”

“What, so that leaves me, Ten, and Eight with Olive?” Violet raises a brow. Blue again nods, and Violet gives a shrug in response as if to say “alright”. Despite being willing to work with Eight and Violet, you stop a moment to think to yourself about what’s going on. Before everyone can fully split up, and while Blue rips the paper in pieces to give each Number their assigned person to work on, you speak up.

“Um, I’d like to do something myself.”

Everyone has by now started to rise, even the begrudging Eight. They stop suddenly and look at you with confusion.

“What do you mean?” Two asks. You look down.

“This is a memorial thing, right? I have someone I wanna work on. But I have to do It alone.”

Will you get in trouble for this? As long as you make up a lie about who Jay is or how you know her, maybe you’ll be okay. It hurts to think you’d have to forge her identity, but you’d also like not to forget about her either. You think it’s probably better to do this when you have a chance to, perhaps for your own sake. Maybe doing this will help you move past the grief of watching her suffer.

“What? Someone you remember or something?” Blue looks at you with surprise. She then moves to a piece of the torn paper that has been left blank and brings one of her pencils to it as if volunteering to draw.

“Something like that,” you remain vague. “But you can’t really draw her. I know what she looks like, so I’ll take care of it.”

“But you’re not really used to doing this on your own,” Three points out with a worried look on her face. “Don’t you want help?”

You shake your head and again insist on doing this yourself. Nobody bothers to try stopping you, but both Lav and Eight look on at you almost worriedly at your insistence to do this, knowing full well who you’re trying to make. Before Eight starts working with Violet to carry out his assigned task, he moves to you and speaks lowly.

“Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” you slightly whisper. “But I have to. Please just let me.”

Eight glances at you with his light green eyes just a moment, but eventually gives a nasally sigh and leaves you to your devices, opting to trust you. Lav doesn’t get the chance to approach you herself, as Blue immediately takes her arm and starts having her help with cutting boards up in the shape of people.

The room fills with chatter, and you listen in on a few conversations while you try to figure out how you want to make your doll of Jay. The twins excitably talk about their task, and you hear Five and Six flirting with one another while they work together. Hearing the quartet happily work with their individual partners makes you smile.

You try to trace the shape of a person on your own, finding that it’s a bit hard to do with your lackluster art skills, but not impossible. You end up working fairly slowly to try getting this right, and hope dearly that this will work out since you’re taking your time. As you carefully cut into the cardboard so as not to hurt yourself or mess up anything, you hear Violet and Eight having their own strange discussion.

“So…are you even the creative type?” Violet asks sheepishly, evidently unsure of how to interact with the grey young man who’s cutting a bodily shape out on his own and letting her stand there.

“No, but I’m capable of following direction and working with what I have,” he says without looking up. “Creativity has nothing to do with it. And I’m not inept at this sort of thing. I’m a musician. We’re good with our hands.”

Finally, he looks up at a slightly blushing Violet, his expression neutral. “And you?”

“I’m, um…more of a swimmer,” She sheepishly answers him. So as not to appear useless, she starts tracing the outline of Olive’s hair as per Blue’s drawing on a sheet of construction paper. “But I guess it’s not too hard to just do what you’re told either. Blue and the twins are the real creatives here, though.”

“If poor craftsmanship is creative,” Eight almost laughs, but expectedly doesn’t and merely gives a light smirk. “Then I suppose they’re the most creative of all. Truly, Blue’s the only real artist here when it comes to physical mediums. The twins are more of the thespian type, so I hear. But I’d have to see them in action to judge their capabilities for myself.”

“You’re a real jerk, huh?” Violet slightly smiles, then gives a weak laugh. “I guess I can respect that. One ‘jerk’ to another.”

“I’m realistic, Violet. That’s all,” Eight pouts at the unexpected compliment to his more forward attitude. He’s only ever been met with protests to this, so to hear a positive remark to his rougher words is evidently strange for him. “Just keep cutting.”

You look on at the duo with an unamused expression as you continue your work. Of course the two who have been known to be a bit crude would get along even a little. Still, you’re happy Violet’s getting slightly more comfortable here. Maybe this will help ease her into being more open with the rest of the Numbers. You’re proud of her.

Once you’ve finally managed to cut out the shape of a person, you move on to making a gown out of construction paper. The other Numbers are all using a variety of supplies to make their dolls, but you figure something simple would probably be easiest for you. Even if your doll turns out to be the most plain, at least it’ll be made.

“Is this the right shade?” you hear Lav question Blue, and you look up to see her holding a reddish piece of papier mâché. She appears to have been digging for paper by one of the shelves. Blue merely glances and squints at the paper in Lav’s hand a moment before shaking her head.

“Nope.”

Sighing, Lav tries again to find the right color, attempting to match it to the one Blue used on her drawing of Nine. At least, you assume that they’re working on the other Nine based on the color Lav’s searching for. It’s likely for the girl’s hair. Again, she pulls out another red piece, one only slightly darker in tone, and shows it to her friend.

“Nuh-uh,” Blue calls out after glimpsing it.

“Oh come on!” Lav grumbles as she turns back to the shelf. You laugh to yourself. For the artist to have paired herself with someone who knows little about art was probably a mistake. Still, it’s nice to see Lav being open with someone other than you or Cyrus. You wonder if Blue’s noticed she’s become friends with another Nine. Maybe it’s a subconscious attraction to the number because of her past positive experience with the girl she used to know. Or maybe it’s coincidence. It’s a strange one if so. But circumstances often work in unusual ways, you find. Sometimes they’re not as negative as they could be. You are curious, though, if Cyrus is subconsciously attracted to your Number the way Blue is with Nine’s. But you’d rather not put that in your mind with Violet around.

All nine of you work in your separate groups for a while, fixated on each task you’ve been assigned. You’re not really sure how much time passes, but some of the others are nearly done with their work when the doors to the crafts room finally open again. You aren’t the first to notice, but do eventually get your attention drawn to it when you hear Three happily call Cyrus’ name. Everyone looks over at the sound of her voice, and when you glimpse the young man at the doors, you see that he has a genuinely confused expression on his pale face when he sees everyone together and working.

“I was wondering where everyone was,” he greets somewhat warily. He almost sounds tired. Perhaps he’s just woken up from being put under. “What’s going on here?”

“Crafts,” Blue says bluntly with a raised brow. “Duh.”

“We all just happened to wind up here, so we took the day to do stuff together,” Five elaborates with a smile. Cyrus steps a bit closer to the groups while scanning everyone’s projects with confusion. However, his eyes immediately wander over to and lock onto Violet. His expression sullens slightly, but not enough for it to indicate anything more than hesitance. He forces a smile for the girl, who you notice is the only person in the room who has not bothered to look his way and has instead continued working.

“Hey, Vi,” he greets with a hint of sorrow in his voice. The dark-haired girl merely tenses up, but with light nudging from Eight, she tries her best to reciprocate Cyrus’ aqua gaze and remain friendly.

“Um…hey.”

There’s evidently tension between them, but not in a way that indicates that they actively want to avoid one another. The two are merely acting awkwardly toward each other. They’re likely not sure how to act toward one another at all after everything that’s happened between them. Especially after their last conversation. You’re at least glad to know Cyrus isn’t at all angry at Violet, but you’re sure he still was hurt by what she had to tell him.

Cyrus glances back down at the doll Eight and Violet are making and raises a brow, returning to his usual self now that he has a temporary distraction from the awkwardness.

“Is…that Olive?” He questions, apparently recognizing the figure immediately. Violet nods, and Cyrus looks around at everyone’s work more observantly now that he’s in closer proximity to it all. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re making a little memorial,” Three admits a bit sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, we all sorta got to talking, and I guess it just ended up like this,” Two explains with a light laugh. “We ended up explaining a bit more about who the others were and what they looked like. And so that we don’t forget them, we decided to try making dolls of them. Like the one of Jade.”

He points over to the wall where Jade’s doll is leaning, causing Cyrus’ eyes to wander in that direction. You almost want to ask if he’s alright seeing how confused and surprised he is by everything that’s going on right now, but you worry about how Violet might react to you two interacting after everything.

Cyrus steps over to the wall when he catches sight of Blue’s drawing, and he runs his fingers along the thing as he examines it closely.

“When did this get here?” He questions.

“Blue made it for me,” Violet opts to speak up. She’s standing up straight now, holding one of her arms. “It was a gift, and Three put it up there.”

“So that she’s close to Jade,” Three adds with a smile. “Since she said she felt guilty about not getting to know her and all.”

Cyrus fingers curl slightly into his palm when this is said, but you can’t read his expression with his back to you. He lingers over the drawing a moment before dropping his hand entirely, but does eventually turn around with a light smile on his face. He looks over at Blue and laughs,

“It looks really good. When did you do that?”

You frown slightly at hearing his cheery tone. You can tell he’s only trying to remain upbeat.

“Thanks!” Blue chirps with a grin. “Uh, I did it over the course of two days. You were busy with your meditation thing yesterday, so you didn’t know. But me, the twins, and Ten were around. They sorta watched me work on it.”

Cyrus’ aqua eyes again wander over to Violet, and the girl tries to muster a smile for him. He returns it, a bit more sincerely this time, but the two don’t say anything else to one another. Neither really have the chance to speak up anyway, since Blue immediately comes over to Cyrus with a pencil and new sheet of paper and sticks the supplies in his face.

“Hey, speaking of art. I need you to do the previous Two and Three for me,” she says. “Unless you, like, want me to. But none of us really know what they look like.”

“I remember the two being mentioned here and there,” Six calls out from beside Five as she unfurls a large bundle of dark brown yarn that you presume will be hair for Amber’s doll. “But yeah, I don’t know much about them at all. You’d really be helping out if you gave us a little hint or something.”

Lav looks at Cyrus slightly hesitative state and reaches a hand out toward him as if to caution the young man.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she tells him. “If it’s too much for you. You can even step out if you like.”

Cyrus rubs the back of his neck slightly and shakes his head.

“No…it’s fine,” he promises everyone, noticing that they’re all looking intently at him. “I’d be happy to talk about them for you. They were my friends, after all.”

“You sure?” Eight asks with a lowered brow. He’s no fool. Like you, he can sense Cyrus’ hesitance. Even so, the aqua-eyed young man looks over at his concerned companion and nods. He takes the pencil and paper from Blue and goes to one of the tables, kneeling before it and hunching over the paper to start attempting to doodle the two late Numbers. Everyone stops what they’re doing to watch him, curiosity lingering in their eyes.

“Two was Sienna, and Three was Jet,” Cyrus explains. “I’m sure you guys might have forgotten their names since it’s been so long since you’d heard them from any of the others, but that’s fine.”

He pencils in Sienna first. “Sienna was on the shorter side. She was really headstrong and stubborn, and always spoke her mind. Sometimes she came across as a jerk, but she wasn’t really. For as forward as she could be, she was also really kind and open. She was friends with Jet and Four, I remember.”

You notice that he refrains from mentioning Sienna’s pregnancy and her change in attitude after returning. Even if some of the others might have known of it, you imagine it’s hardly appropriate to talk about it now.

“Jet was a bit of an asshole at times,” Cyrus continues, slightly laughing as he attempts to sketch the young man. “But he was also really relaxed. He could be a little wily and get under some of the others’ skin, but he was a good guy from what I recall. He and Four were really close. I don’t remember if they were dating or not, but they did spend a lot of time together. And if it wasn’t them, they were together with Sienna. They all really relied on one another.”

Taking a few of the colored pencils strewn about on the table, Cyrus colors in his quick pencil doodles. They’re not exactly fancy compared to Blue’s who’s only looked decent and shaped because of her artistic experience, but they’re still comprehensible. Sienna is given brown hair with red tones, warm brown skin that’s slightly lighter than someone like the previous Four’s was colored with, and a warm brown gown with hints of red and orange undertones to it. Sienna’s eyes, he colors with amber, though it looks a tinge darker than the amber in the eyes of someone like Lav. It pairs beautifully with the sweet brown tones of Sienna’s skin. Jet, meanwhile is colored with yellow blond hair, green eyes, pale, peachy skin, and a black shirt.

“That’s how I remember them,” Cyrus says when he’s finished. “And that’s really all I can say about them. The other Numbers didn’t really get to talk to Sienna and Jet a whole lot, but sometimes did. I mostly listened in to a lot of their conversations with Four, and occasionally talked to them myself. They were really sweet people. Flawed, but sweet.”

“They sound like they were nice,” Three smiles.

“And Sienna looks really pretty,” Five remarks with a light laugh. “I would have loved to meet her.”

“You think all girls are pretty,” Six teases before giving her sweetheart a light kiss. “And you’re right.”

“It feels a little strange talking about them like this again,” Cyrus admits, standing back up and examining his shoddy little drawing of his friends. “It’s been a while since I really thought about them this way.”

This isn’t entirely true, you’re aware. But, it is probably the first time in a while Cyrus has had to look back on old memories in a pleasant light, rather than a miserable one.

“Well anyway, I’ll probably need help making dolls of these,” He says with a light laugh, trying to remain chipper. Three immediately perks up, her eyes sparkling.

“We can help!” She volunteers she and her brother. “Two and I are almost done with ours.”

“Already?” You pout. “You guy are fast.”

Lav giggles. “Blue did say they were fast. Anyway, it’s fine, Ten. Take your time. Blue and I still have work to do too.”

“And I think Violet and I might make another doll as well when we’re done,” Eight speaks up finally, saying this so casually that it almost goes unnoticed. However, everyone looks at him with confusion.

“What?” Even Violet thinks this is news. Eight folds his arms and looks away.

“We may not remember the other Ten, but maybe it’s worth it to at least have a stand-in for him,” he begrudgingly explains. “He was evidently important to Cyrus, and even if we don’t remember the guy, he was still a Number. So, I figured we should. I suppose it’d be foolish to leave anyone out of the set.”

Cyrus smiles slightly. “Thanks, Eight.”

His companion says nothing of this gratitude, but gives a light nod as if to say, “you’re welcome”.

Blue claps her hands together suddenly, like some schoolteacher trying to get her students’ attention. Promptly, she calls out, “Alright kiddies, back to work!”

The others merely laugh at her, but do continue on with what they’re doing. Cyrus opts to join the Twins to help them finish up their dolls of Four and Penny. His eyes finally wander over to you as he makes his way toward the twins, and he promptly gives a light shrug, not knowing what to really say in the moment. Though, you notice he does glance down briefly at your work and slightly widens his eyes. He says nothing of it, but you’re sure he’s as worried by what you’re doing as Eight and Lav were. Even so, you want to do this. You don’t care if the doctors’ boss snaps at you for it even if you know you’ll crumble in fear if the moment should come that he does. Even if it’s only with just one thing in your life here, you want to have control of what you do. And what you want now is to honor Jay. You’re sure the Letters must miss her terribly, whoever they might be.

You wonder if they’ve tried to immortalize Jay somehow, or if they even remember that she exists. Whether the boss erased the Letters’ memory of the girl, you can’t know. But if he didn’t tamper with yours, perhaps they might still remember her too. Regardless, you feel like you have to do this for them and for her. Maybe it’s a little selfish to say that you’re also hoping to put the horrible memory of seeing her die behind you even for a moment, but you’re certain nobody can really blame you for that. It’s an awful thing nobody should have to experience.

You try your best to get the details of Jay’s appearance correct, but willingly exclude the exterior damage she had, like her scar and the bandage on her cheek. If she’s to be immortalized, it should be without those awful things. Without the reminder of the abuse given by those at the facility.

You’re not the greatest with colors yourself, but certainly a little better than Lav. At the very least, you’re certain the colors you chose were accurate to what you saw. Even if you don’t want to remember what happened that day, you do vividly remember the sight of her. But it’s only the details on Jay’s body you try to focus on. Everything else is better avoided.

In your focus on making Jay, you fail to notice that everyone is starting to finish their projects. When you finally do snap yourself back to attention, you see that the other Numbers are now placing finished dolls along the back wall of the room where there’s space, lining them up in order. Anyone who hasn’t finished, which at the moment looks to be the twins and Cyrus, merely receives extra help from those who are done.

You’re glad nobody bothered to ask again if you needed help when you wanted to do this by yourself. It seems the others respected that. Glancing unhappily at Yosuke’s cut tie still crumpled on the floor, you only wish that everyone else would also leave you alone when you ask. But you guess that’s unrealistic to want from anyone but the Numbers.

It takes you a little while longer, but you eventually do finish your doll of Jay. It’s simply made compared to some of the others. Even Eight and Violet’s doll of Olive is at least a little more well put together than yours. But this simpler creation is not at all a bad representation of Jay, you think. You can’t exactly say much about your artistic integrity as far as her face is concerned. It’s your best effort, at least. And the coloring isn’t so bad. In fact, the bright blue color of her eyes only distracts from your shoddy linework. Even so, it makes you happy to see her again. For some reason, you thought you’d be upset. And, oddly, you start to smile seeing the thing.

“Who’s that?” Blue’s sudden curious voice pops in from behind you, making you jump. You turn your head and see that most everyone has crowded curiously around you, observing your doll of Jay closely. The only ones who aren’t really closeby are Violet and Eight, who merely stand away from the crowd and watch from a slight distance.

“It’s…someone I remembered,” you vaguely tell her and everyone else watching you. Unfortunately, you do have to lie if only to soften the blow of your disobedience to the boss. If he does have cameras around, he’ll be none too pleased about you even mentioning the girl, regardless of whether you’re vague. “I don’t really know who though.”

Six’s brown eyes wander over to your face as she stands hovering over you. She lightly frowns.

“It’s okay if you can’t tell us,” she assures you. You guess you’re not good at fooling anyone at all. But you’re glad she’s understanding of your position.

“Does she at least have a name?” Five questions with a light laugh. You look up at the girl and muster a smile.

“I’ll call her Jay,” you say. “That’s the first name I can think of, anyway.”

“Sounds like an alright name to me,” Lav plays along, shrugging. “You wanna put her on the wall with the others?”

This question briefly takes you aback. You hadn’t really thought about where you were going to place her. Moreover, you’re surprised by Three reaching her hand out now to help you up.

“We can put her next to Jade if you want,” She offers. “We’ll just have to move her to the side a little. And maybe move Sweet Pea too. Sorry, Five!”

“That’s fine!” Your chubbier friend answers happily. “I don’t mind. This is important, after all.”

When you’re able to stand, Cyrus helps you out by plucking the doll of Jay off the ground and moving it to Jade’s area. The others help shift things around until Jay and Jade are side by side. Even if they’re a little sanctioned off from the others, at least they’re together.

Finally finished with all the dolls, the group steps back to admire their work, teasing one another over each creation.

“You guys did a great job with Amber’s hair,” Three compliments the peach girlfriends, who both giggle in response. The doll’s hair is weighted and long since it’s made of yarn, but it does look full and like the picture Blue drew.

“Eight and Vi’s dolls don’t look too shabby either,” Blue compliments the duo. “Olive looks like I remember her. And even their Ten isn’t bad for just being a placeholder with orange clothes.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Eight shrugs this off and folds his arms. “We just took the assignment and made do with the tools we had. Right Vi?”

“Pretty much,” the violet-clothed girl gives a sly smile as she agrees with her partner. “Arts and crafts aren’t that complicated.”

“Oh great, you two are being assholes together,” Blue rolls her eyes up, speaking sarcastically. “This is the last thing we needed.”

Blue looks back down at Violet and subtly smiles when she sees the girl genuinely laugh in response. However, Violet’s giddiness soon fades when she catches sight of Cyrus again. When she looks on at him with concern, you follow her eyes and notice that the young man has started to scan the dolls just made while unconsciously stepping forward and closer to the things. He stays quiet while chatter persists behind him. For a moment you want to ask if he’s doing alright and start to reach out, but retract your hand and hesitate with Violet still fixated on him.

Much to both of your surprise, he gives a weak smile to himself and holds his forehead in his hand, his fingers slightly covering his eyes. When he lets out one sharp breath that causes his chest to quickly rise and fall. You almost think he’s about to start laughing, but he doesn’t. The gasping noise he lets out isn’t immediately heard by all, but the attention to him is drawn once Violet’s eyes slightly widen and she steps forward, gently calling out with concern,

“Cyrus?”

Promptly, she steps closer to him while everyone else drops their conversations for just a moment to focus on their distressed friend. From behind his hand, you see a tear begin to poke through and run down his cheek, passing his lips which are still somewhat curved in a smile despite his crying state.

Violet reaches out and touches the young man’s arm, causing him to drop his hand finally and look on at the girl with slightly wettened eyes. He glances at her, and his smile fades slightly. His lips part, but he says nothing and instead sucks in breath.

“Cyrus, are you okay?” Violet asks more clearly now. Seeing that he’s crying, the others move in more closely in their concern. Five is the first to touch his shoulder and look on at him with upturned brows. Cyrus merely stays silent as he struggles to stop his tears from falling. He tries to wipe his face with his forearm and the back of his hand while moving his head about, but fails.

“I’m fine,” he wearily tries to assure everyone, his voice wavering. Cyrus’ pale face grows slightly flushed as his embarrassment at being vulnerable around others rises. Eight says nothing and makes no attempts to move from where he’s standing with his folded arms, but even he watches with slight worry, his light green eyes focused and subtly widened as he watches the young man’s tears relentlessly fall.

Violet looks as though she’s fighting with herself, biting her lip as she watches Cyrus continue to try wiping his tears away. However, she finally moves her hand to the one at his side and grips it tightly.

“It’s okay to cry,” she tells him with a low voice, putting aside her hesitance to try being comforting now. She looks up at the young man and forces a smile, but it looks pained. “It’s okay to feel bad. I know they meant a lot to you.”

Cyrus says nothing but gives a weak, breathy laugh despite his continuing, rolling tears. He finally stops trying to wipe them away and glances at Violet before him, sucking in breaths as he watches her briefly. After hesitating a moment, he tries again to speak.

“I didn’t want to be seen like this,” he expresses with his voice still weary. He drops his wet, aqua eyes to the side as tears continue to spill from between his lashes. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Cyrus, you’ve been through a lot,” Blue speaks up with a frown. “Do you really think holding it in and meditating it away is gonna make it all better? It’s okay to feel bad and stuff. Let it out once in a while, even if it’s in front of us. We won’t judge.”

“Yeah, I cry a lot,” Three tries to joke at her own expense in an attempt to cheer her friend up. “It’s okay to feel that way. Sometimes you just have a lot to get through.”

“It just feels stupid crying over a bunch of cardboard dolls,” Cyrus slightly laughs at himself through his tears. “But it really means a lot to me that you guys did this. Seeing them again just brought me back, but I wasn’t expecting everything to hit me so suddenly. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, dummy” Lav speaks up. She then smiles and ruffles up his hair playfully. “You can cry over a dropped spoon for all we care. You’ve got a lot going on for you, it’s completely understandable. Don’t worry about it.”

“Just don’t do it all the time,” Eight teases. Cyrus looks over at him, only to see the grey young man giving a coy smirk.

Cyrus musters a gentle, short laugh that sounds almost more like a breath. He again wipes away the wetness on his cheeks and in his eyes. The tears seem to be subsiding now. Violet continues to squeeze his hand, but says nothing more as she looks up at him worriedly.

Despite his gratefulness for everyone’s attempted comfort, he starts sigh and hold his head.

“I think I just need a minute,” he says. The others, wanting to let him have a chance to recover, don’t bother trying to stop him when he starts to walk off. This excludes Violet, however. Her hand begins to slip away from Cyrus’ as he moves onward, but she promptly grabs hold of his fingers and palm tightly and stops him from leaving. Confused, Cyrus merely turns his head to her with wide eyes.

“Cyrus!” Violet desperately calls out, her face twisting with pain now. “I’m so sorry! I really am!”

Though she looks as if she wants to cry, she tries to hold herself together so as not to steal the attention from him. Cyrus merely looks on at her with parted lips, but hesitates to speak. Nobody else seems to understand what kind of exchange is happening between the two, but you merely watch with anticipation at the scene unfolding before you.

Despite staying silent a moment and only staring at Violet, Cyrus eventually musters a gentle smile of his own. It’s much warmer than the others he gave her before, which had been far more constrained. He continues to say nothing, but even just a glimpse of his gentler expression is enough to assuage Violet, and she reciprocates his smile with one of her own. Finally, she lets go of Cyrus’ hand and lets him walk away. His fingers slip away from hers, but she finally accepts this and merely lets the young man go. The others remain still as they were, allowing their friend to take his leave and recuperate in his own way.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Two questions once Cyrus has finally gone. He then turns to Eight and shrugs casually. “Or do you think he needs another dude talk?”

“Don’t push it,” Eight pouts. “Anyway, we really wouldn’t be able to talk him through this like last time. You might since you knew the other Numbers. I wouldn’t because I didn’t.”

Two sighs. “I guess you have a point. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same without you there. He’ll listen to you more because he likes you better.”

Eight looks away and clears his throat uncomfortably at this suggestion. “He just respects me marginally more than most of you.”

“Well, anyway,” Six mutters as she scratches the back of her head, trying to detract from the topic that’s clearly left Eight a bit flustered. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. We can try talking to him later if we need to. But what do we do now? We sort of finished with our huge project.”

“Hey, don’t tell me you don’t feel at least a little sentimental too,” Five chuckles as she wraps her arms around Six suddenly and leans into her. Her dark brown eyes wander over to the lineup of dolls, and she smiles to herself. “It’s nice to see them again. Even if it is like this. And even if we didn’t get to know all of them.”

The other Numbers all glance at the wall of dolls a bit solemnly.

“I guess I missed out on a lot,” says Violet, looking down at the pinkish floor. “But if anyone really knows what that’s like, I’m sure it’s Ten. Even I knew a few of the other Numbers, even if I wasn’t close with them.”

You blush. “Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Blue agrees, placing a hand on her hip. “You’re still the newbie. You never met any of these guys. But to be fair, we didn’t meet whoever it was you made a doll of.”

You scan your eyes across the row of dolls and frown. “Well…they seem like they were nice. I admit I have no idea what it was like back then, but you guys are my family now. You’re all I really have.”

“A bit of a dysfunctional family, though,” Two laughs. “But really, the other group was kind of worse at times. We genuinely had no idea what we were doing, and we were all really different. We fought a lot. Even when we did get along, we hardly spent so much time together. Not as a group, anyway. We sort of separated.”

Hearing this, Three’s face grows crestfallen, and she holds her hands before her legs while glancing down.

“I guess we really didn’t place as much importance on togetherness back then,” she mentions with a sulky tone to her voice. “It was only after everything had happened that we really started to see it as important. Plus, all of us were still trying to figure ourselves out, so of course it was a struggle. But I guess people like Sienna, Jet, and Four all had it figured out, by the way Cyrus spoke of them.”

“Cyrus probably realized quickly how important it was to be close,” Lav adds with a frown. “Maybe some of us weren’t doing that notion any favors. Eight, Violet, and I would probably never have been that close to any of you if we hadn’t been dragged in by Ten.”

“Dragged in?!” You cry. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lav laughs. “I mean you helped us get a little closer, I guess. You were like a catalyst.”

“And once you did your part, I suppose things just happened on their own with the others,” Eight shrugs, not at all disputing Lav’s claim. Though, he looks off to the side somewhere and avoids looking directly at you. “I can’t say I’m pleased to be here all the time when I still prefer to be by myself.”

He sighs.

“However, I also can’t say this hasn’t been interesting.”

Six gives a bellowing laugh. “We like you too, dude. Don’t sweat it.”

Eight merely grumbles at the attention, but says nothing more.

“Well, now that we’re done, what do we do?” Violet questions, repeating Six’s earlier inquiry. Five smiles and lets go of Six, pushing herself gently off the girl so she can straighten back up.

“I think peaches and I will stick around with the twins,” she says. “I was in the middle of making my own smaller doll, after all.”

The twins nod as if to indicate agreement. Eight merely shrugs.

“I still have work to do, so I’ll be getting back to it. Sentiment be damned.”

Blue pouts. “That’s no fun.”

She leans into Lav and grabs her arm. “Hey, I’m still in an artsy mood. Wanna help me make something?”

Lav blinks at her, but before she can open her mouth to answer, Blue takes her friend back to the table and starts grabbing whatever’s already strewn out to start making something with her. Everyone appears to go back to their original positions, returning to whatever it was they were doing before. You’re certain they don’t want to make a big deal out of what happened with Cyrus, but know for sure that they do care. By now, you’re pretty aware of how easily they switch around with this kind of thing. Still, you stay standing where you are and look back at all the dolls your group has made of the past Numbers. To your surprise, Violet joins your side rather than sit back down near Eight. She almost scares you since you’d been so focused.

“Hey, Ten” she greets with a low voice. You glance over at her with a raised brow.

“Um…hi. What’s up?”

Violet merely sighs and folds her arms.

“You don’t have to avoid talking to him because of me,” she says suddenly, taking you aback. “I saw you. That entire time, you kept wanting to say something and said nothing. It was because of me, right?”

“I…don’t know,” you lie. “Maybe…”

Violet scowls. “Look, I know, okay? But it just makes me feel awkward seeing you be like that. I don’t want you to feel constrained because of me. I don’t want you to step around me like that. All it does is make me feel like a nuisance.”

You turn your head to Violet, but she remains fixated on the dolls.

“Vi, I do care about you,” you promise her. “I’m just afraid of hurting your feelings. I don’t want you to get hurt or assume that I’m trying to do something.”

“You know how I am, Ten,” Violet shakes her head. “It’s something I need to work on myself. You shouldn’t have to dance around me to make me feel better. I’m gonna be hurt no matter what, especially since I still care about him.”

“Oh…”

Violet gives an angrier sigh this time, but tries to calm herself down.

“Look, I don’t want to be mad anymore. I just wanna make up and get past this,” she tells you firmly. “It’s been a while since all that happened. I still feel bad about it, but I know I was a jerk and I know I have a lot of work to do. But I have to work on my own.”

Her scowl drops, and her expression slightly softens.

“I’m glad I’m here,” she openly admits without having to struggle doing so. “I really am. I was afraid that the others wouldn’t accept me after how I’d acted. Even now, I still have this lingering voice that says ‘what if they turn on you?’. But…I want to ignore that voice. I want to feel better. And really, I do feel a lot better than I had. They others talked to me like a person, and I didn’t have to feel like shit. I didn’t have to push them away. I’ve never really felt like that before. Not with anyone but Cyrus.”

Violet’s eyes examine each of the dolls along the wall, scanning them slowly as she thinks to herself a moment.

“But I don’t wanna rely on just him,” she finally continues. “Of course I still care. And of course I’m still worried that I hurt him. I can’t help that right now. But I want to believe things will be okay.”

You look down a moment, twiddling with your fingers and saying nothing as you contemplate on what to make of this now. After a brief silence, you look at Violet and shake your head with uncertainty.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” You ask. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re being a bit more open now. I’m proud of you for taking the initiative and doing things on your own. Deciding to be here even though your inner voice was probably screaming at you to turn back.”

“…Thanks,” Violet mumbles. Her cheeks grow slightly red at your kind remark. “But the thing is…I want us to be friends. And I still wanna be friends with Cyrus.”

She then sighs.

“But I don’t want to hold you back from him just because of how I still feel. You don’t have to avoid him around me. It’ll just constrain things. Make it hard for us to move on.”

You widen your eyes slightly. “But what if I-“

“Of course you might hurt me!” Violet almost hisses as she guesses correctly what you were going to say. However, she tries to keep a lid on her voice. Violet turns her head a bit to glance back and see if anyone’s paying attention to the two of you now, but it seems nobody is when you do the same. They’re all focused again on one another, save for Eight who’s completely focused on his own work.

Violet then exhales and presses a hand to her temple.

“I don’t want to let that pain drive me,” she continues, trying again to remain calm. “I won’t hold you back because of my own feelings, Ten. You’ve done a lot for me, and I was nothing but mean to you in my jealousy. I don’t want to be that way. I do still care about him, like I said. But it’d be shitty of me to keep you from him.”

“What are you getting at?” You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

Violet drops her hand and rolls her eyes around as she tries to fight with herself about how to answer you. Eventually she forces herself to turn toward you and take your hands in hers.

“Go talk to him,” she answers straightforwardly after this brief hesitance, looking directly at you and refusing to let her focused gaze falter. “Are you dense? I know you want to.”

“N-no,” you attempt to refute this and start looking away. “I think he wants to be alone. I do want to make sure he’s okay, but I know how he needs his space sometimes. Most people do when they deal with something rough.”

Violet shakes her head slowly. “He doesn’t want to be alone. I could see it in his eyes. He needs someone, and the guys aren’t taking the initiative right now. So maybe you should.”

“Vi…”

“Don’t ‘Vi’ me,” the dark-haired girl pouts, dropping her hands from yours. “Look, you’re the only one who can right now. You know how much he cares about you. A familiar face like yours might help.”

“Are…you really sure you’re okay with that though?” You ask, still hesitant to accept the offer. “I wouldn’t want to-“

“Ten, it’s fine,” Violet interrupts you with a light sigh. She looks down and lowers her brows. “I wish I could go talk to him myself, really. But after what’s happened between us, maybe it’s better I just wait a little longer. I was afraid he was mad at me, but I think we’ll be okay. The only thing I need to worry about now is myself.”

She shrugs. “Besides, after what you’ve been dealing with from your own doctor, I’m sure you could use someone to talk to, and we’ve already pushed Eight by making him be social and participate in something. Just…don’t tell me what you guys say to each other or what happens between you two. I really don’t wanna hear about it.”

You gently laugh. “I guess that’s fair.”

Now that you’re turned to face Violet, your eyes flicker over to the others by the tables, and you frown.

“What about them?”

“They’re not gonna notice,” Violet assures you. “Believe me. They’re all pretty wrapped up with one another. Eight might notice, but he won’t say shit about it, I’m sure. Just slip out, or make an excuse if you really wanna. I’m pretty sure everyone here has already eaten or isn’t hungry, so I could probably lie and say you went off to get food if they do ask.”

“You’re really sticking your neck out for me, huh?” You comment, giving a light chuckle. “Thank you, Violet. I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” your companion pouts. “You already said that.”

After she says this, you opt to lean in and wrap your arms around the girl a moment, taking her aback. Despite her widening eyes and surprised demeanor, she eventually reciprocates your embrace and blushes.

“I guess I’ll see you then” She mimics your earlier statement to her in the cafeteria upon pulling away. You nod and continue to smile. Once the exchange is over, you leave Violet alone and walk past the others. As told, none of them really notice you, all focused on their work or each other. Even Blue has taken your place beside Lav, keeping her attention with discussion on what to make now that they’re done making dolls.

Without much of a hitch, you’re able to stroll toward the entrance of the crafts room. Before you go, you turn around to see Violet finally taking a seat beside Eight. He briefly looks at her, but only really nods to acknowledge the girl before turning back to his work. He does, however, catch a glimpse of you at the doors, but does not bother letting his light green eyes linger on you and merely looks away in an instant, opting to be willfully ignorant. You smile at this, happy that he won’t bother to bring it up to anyone as Violet said he wouldn’t. After one last look at your friends, you turn around and exit the crafts room to search for Cyrus.

Chapter 56: Rest Twenty Seven - Honesty

You’re not sure where to check first since Cyrus could have gone anywhere. Your best guesses are the rec room, gardens, or theater. But for good measure, you figure you’ll start in the less likely places. There is still a chance he went off somewhere nobody would look for him. Maybe that’s a bit presumptuous given Violet’s mention that he wants to be talked to, but you suppose it’s better to try.

You pop in first to the arcade, noting the dark atmosphere that you haven’t actually seen in quite a while. The arcade cabinets are all still on and buzzing with noise, but it doesn’t much look like Cyrus is there. You do, however, smile slightly remembering Six and Violet fighting one another in their games.

Next, you try your hand at the library, pool, and gym respectively, but again find them empty. Even the showers, though you certainly hope you don’t run into Cyrus taking a shower all of a sudden. You’d hate to invade his privacy that way. Granted, you’re sure he’s quite open like Lav, but you certainly don’t know if you can handle seeing someone of the opposite sex randomly naked around you. It’s weird enough to deal with Lav when she does it despite her being the same sex as you, even if you’re slowly getting used to it.

For good measure, you do pop into the cafeteria as well, but see nothing there. You’re not really sure if Charlie heard you come in, but you don’t stick around to speak with him since you’re focused on finding your other friend. In the case that he is watching, you give a light wave toward the pane by the counter. Doing this is magnificently awkward when you can’t quite see the person behind the pane to know certainly whether they’re there, but what else can you do? It’d probably be rude for you not to acknowledge him a little.

With those rooms down, you now have to face yourself with the music room and gardens again. You hadn’t really realized it until they were among your last few options, but you didn’t much want to go into those rooms so suddenly. It’s one thing to have them mentioned to you or to think about them, but it’s another to have to face them again after what your doctor did. The rec room and the cafeteria were easier to swallow. But these rooms…

You stand before the music room and stay steadfast with your feet planted firmly on the ground. You know you need to move, but you really don’t want to. Granted, it’s likely Cyrus isn’t there, though the thought of walking in on him playing an instrument like you had with Eight almost makes you laugh and helps to ease your nerves.

You try to remind yourself that there’s no reason to be afraid now—Yosuke isn’t here. It was just one time. The gardens are the real problem, but you’d hate for such a pretty place to be ruined by your doctor. Still, right now you need to focus on the music room, right?

One thing at a time.

Giving a deep sigh, you finally force yourself to move into the music room, letting the doors part for you and swiftly entering through them. You hear no music, and when you step out from behind the L-shaped group of cabinets, you see nobody. Though, your eyes do flicker rather insistently toward the grand piano on the slightly raised platform. Your heartbeat quickens ever so slightly, but you try to keep yourself grounded and remind yourself that the area is empty and therefore safe. Instead of picturing Yosuke, you try to think of Eight and what he might have been like as a teacher to the peachy girlfriends. This does help, you find. But it’s not like the other memory isn’t lingering.

You don’t much know why you bother, but your legs end up moving, and you find yourself heading up the steps toward the piano. When you’re finally faced with the thing, you scorn yourself for being stupid and coming up here at all. Even so, you do end up mindlessly opening the grand instrument, uncovering it, and gliding your fingers along its sleek surface. When you uncover the keys, you slightly glower thinking of Yosuke touching them. An instrument can’t much say whether it wants to be played. Its only purpose is to be used.

Your eyes drift to the side, where you’d been sat down by Yosuke so that you could watch him play above you. It’s odd to see the spot from where you are now, above it. You’re picturing Yosuke looking down at you like this. This platform isn’t much tall, but even from this slightly higher elevation, you feel as though you’re towering above the ground. Maybe it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

You then can’t help but wonder: Did Yosuke do anything to you when you passed out? How long did he leave you laying on the floor while he played? Maybe asking these questions is only going to make things worse, but you have the right to know what’s done to your body. It’s yours, anyway. Not his. No matter how much he’d like you to think so.

Again, you focus on the piano before you and touch your fingers to its keys. Unsurprisingly, you have no idea what you’re doing. Touching this thing doesn’t shockingly bring back some ability to play it. You have no instrumental skill. But, you do admit, the sound of the keys is lovely, even when they’re being illy played. Even wrong notes can produce beautiful sounds, you suppose.

You exhale heavily through your nose as you imagine Yosuke’s hands gliding sweetly along the piano keys, and when you finally have enough of this memory, you shut the lid and move to again cover the piano. In truth, you’d like to smash this thing up in frustration, but you know it’d only get you in trouble. You’re not as stupid as some people might like to think. You sometimes know when to not be rash, even when there are times you willfully ignore the warnings against being so. In any case, the doctors would eventually find out about the piano being broken if you chose to act, and Yosuke would have no trouble discerning who was responsible. He knows you. You hate that he does.

Cyrus isn’t here, you think to yourself, attempting to refocus your mind away from the unpleasant memory. Though, you still have another to face in a moment. Maybe you ought to check the rec room and theater first, but it’s not like that would save you from checking the gardens anyway. Even if Cyrus is in the other rooms, you’d eventually have to come back to the gardens for something sometime. Better to get it out of the way when you’re by yourself, you figure. As Violet has her own grievances to overcome, so do you.

Stepping down from the elevated platform, you look around the music room one more time and try to associate it with Eight again, attempting to shove the memory of Yosuke away. You probably can’t ever forget what happened here, but as long as you can think of the right memories when you step into this room, it shouldn’t be a problem. You were able to deal with Jay after all this time, so this should be a walk in the park by comparison.

God, you wish you could take one of those. Your dreams of the strangely present garden maze are as close as you can really get to a literal walk in the park. You still have no idea why the garden even recurred once in a separate dream. Maybe you just really want to be there, even for as awful as the events of both dreams were.

You shudder then as you remember Marcellus. That dream with him in it wasn’t real, but it sure felt real. You hope you don’t have to deal with him trying to kill you like that. You know you’ll die here, but you’d rather die a less violent death. Of course you don’t want to die at all, but…is that a practical wish? No.

What’s wrong with you? You suddenly question yourself, lightly hitting both sides of your head with your palms. This isn’t exactly a good time to start reflecting. You have to look for Cyrus. You wonder if he’s started meditating by now, or if he’s taking time away from that to recollect himself. He had mentioned it’s not always best to meditate at the height of negative emotional states. But was the state he left the crafts room in a negative one? You aren’t entirely sure, and you won’t know until you talk with him.

Huffing, you drop your arms and press on, heading out into the hall. Of course, you’re met with yet another distraction. Though, right now you’re a little welcoming of anything that keeps you from going to the gardens. Sure, you have to face it eventually. But if you could put it off just a little…

“Oh, hi!” Monica’s voice greets you. The peppy doctor is currently hunched over the ground, picking up some dropped bottles of something you don’t recognize and putting them in her bent arm, which she’s holding against her stomach. Strangely, she’s within the gate, not outside of it. You assume she’d been in the infirmary just now. Perhaps she’d been in there while you were in the crafts room and has only just come out, because you hadn’t at all heard the gate open or shut while searching the rooms for your friend.

Unsurprisingly, Monica’s presence puts you on edge. She may be kind to you, but you have no reason at all to trust the woman after your experience with all the other doctors. You take a step back when you see the doctor pushing up off her knee while cradling the collected bottles in her arms as if they were a child. Since she’s still holding the things close to her upper abdomen, the motion of her pressing her arms together only makes her breasts more pronounced.

You look away in embarrassment at this, thinking of your first time meeting Mom. She’d done this to be pushy about her sexual nature, but Monica seems to be blissfully unaware of the motion. Unless, as Mom suggested, she’s fully conscious about everything she does. If that’s the case, Monica might even be more dangerous because she plays a subtler version of the games Mom does. But she doesn’t entirely strike you as someone who knows what she’s doing based on the few times you’ve seen her. Even so, it’s best not to let your guard down.

“Would you do me a favor, Ten?” Monica sweetly questions with a light smile. You finally look back at her with an unmoved, unamused expression, but indulge her and listen to what she has to ask. “I could use a bit of help putting these away. They’re supposed to go in the other rooms, but Mamita left me here to deal with this. Micah called her for help with something important, so she had to step away.”

This sounds a bit uncharacteristic of him. Micah’s not the kind of person you would ever assume willingly asks for help with anything. But you aren’t really sure what the guy does here. Your only experiences with him have been painful and sexual.

However, you can’t much focus on this aspect of Monica’s words, as you immediately realize she’s giving you a chance to leave. Your eyes slightly widen at the idea of being able to get out for a bit, even if it is to help a doctor run an errand. Is that even something they’re allowed to have you do? As it is, they can come into the recreational areas anytime they like if there’s a reason. Yosuke had come to the rec room to drop you off the day you met all the Numbers, and both he and Mom have come in a few times. Mostly to the infirmary as you recall it, but certainly still in. Even Gale probably had come here once. You assume they were the ones you heard in the infirmary a while back when Five was sick.

But doctors coming into your space is one thing. You leaving it, even if under supervision, is another. The boss seems to like things being done a specific way. Having a doctor take you out of here to run an errand isn’t exactly something you’d say he’s planned. Could leaving get you and Monica in trouble if you say yes to her? Come to think of it, why even say yes at all? You still need to find Cyrus. That’s all that matters. Plus, this could easily be another trick. Mom had tried to bait you out of the gate by opening it for you and standing idly by. Monica could easily be testing you too. There’s always a chance she won’t be able to catch you if you suddenly decided to run. Is she counting on this? Is she toying with you?

You realize then that you’ve been standing there a while without answering, as Monica calls your Number again with worry. Snapping back to, you finals shake your head and firmly answer,

“I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, really?” Monica frowns slightly. She genuinely sounds disappointed, much to your surprise. However, she again smiles. “Oh well. I can do this myself, it’ll just take a few more trips. I just thought I’d ask since, well…”

Monica’s brown eyes drop down to your now-free wrists, and you remember her glancing worriedly at you before. Does she seriously think you’re going to believe that she felt bad for you?

“But if you’re busy, that’s alright,” Monica livelily chirps, returning her gaze to your face. “I don’t mind. I guess I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyway. But nobody’s here to say not to. And we’re not saying anything bad, so I see no problem with this.”

You raise a wary brow. “Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Monica gives a light shrug. “Mamita doesn’t want me to interact with you Numbers unless another doctor is around. I don’t know why everyone’s so restrictive. I’m here to do a job. And eventually have my fun, I suppose.”

Of course.

“But I do like being here so far,” Monica continues with a smile. “Everyone’s been so nice. I’m getting used to how things work, too!”

You almost hate to indulge the woman, but you can’t help but ask her questions in your curiosity of her.

“What else is It that you even do?”

“Other things, Ten,” is Monica’s quick and simple reply. She remains ever chipper, but has no problem interacting with you. She must not be as mindless as she lets on if she’s being vague with her role here so as to avoid getting in trouble by blabbing. Still, Monica almost seems eager to talk to you. Maybe she likes the company? You guess that’s not something you can blame her for, knowing who she has to deal with regularly.

Deciding to change the subject, you look away and rub the back of your neck a bit sheepishly. “Um…why do you let Mom treat you like that, anyway?”

“I think she’s just frustrated,” Monica answers happily. “I’m sure she’s not so bad. I think she and I could be friends, but it might take time. But I do love my work despite these setbacks. I’m a little bit slow, and she’s just a bit too impatient.”

“You don’t bother her on purpose, do you?” You ask curiously. Monica winks at you.

“Sometimes. Not always,” she affirms. “There are times where I really don’t understand something, so I do need her help. I am still new, after all.”

You were right to think she could be a bit sneaky. But if anything, her style seems more playful than Mom’s. Maybe in the beginning Mom was certainly much more like Monica’s being now, but she’s changed the longer you’ve gotten to know her. Or maybe you’ve just become warier to how she is.

“Are you?” You question, recalling Two mentioning being familiar with Monica’s face, and recalling Monica’s earlier hesitance to answer when you’d asked if she was new. “Are you really sure you haven’t been here before?”

“I don’t think so,” the lively woman answers you, looking up in thought to try affirming this. Strangely, she’s able to say this more easily than before. You aren’t sure why she’d hesitated before if the answer was so simple. “I’ve never met any of you or the doctors. I’m sure I’d remember someone like Mamita.”

You look down. “I could have sworn…”

As you trail off, you start to wonder what else you can possibly ask the woman. She appears to be an open book, but she has also just confirmed that she occasionally fucks with Mom by acting stupid, so maybe she’s doing the same with you. If that’s the case, you can’t entirely tell the difference between intention and genuine uncertainty on her part. Still, you want to try asking her more about her place here while Mom’s not around to shut her up. Cyrus needs you, but you also can’t pass this up.

The possibility of memory tampering on the doctors’ part is one idea that occurs to you the more you think on it. On one hand, maybe Monica is entirely new like she seems. On the other hand, maybe she isn’t, and the Numbers’ memory has been tampered with. But…could the doctors themselves be victims of this tampering?

That seems outlandish, really. Maybe you’re just grasping at straws because you want to understand and piece together this puzzle that’s probably dangerous to. The procedure done on you completely wipes away memories and even abilities. If Monica isn’t as new as she thinks, then maybe it’s stupid to say her memory was tampered with when doing so could put her capabilities as a doctor at risk. A doctor who can’t do what they’re supposed to might not be seen as useful here.

You’re sure the procedure is too delicate and risky to perform on the doctors, even if the boss wanted to. After all, if he could find a way to do that to his staff without sacrificing their knowledge of their craft, he probably would have done this to Mom a long time ago. She seems to always disobey him, after all. Perhaps eliminating specific memories would keep her at bay somehow.

So maybe the idea of doctors losing their memories is a bit ridiculous. But the idea of the Numbers’ memories having been tampered with still seems likely enough for you to suspect that they might have been. Still, you can’t help but ask Monica a question about it. Maybe it’s risky to do so, but you can’t help your curiosity.

“Monica, do you remember anything before this?”

The sprightly doctor looks at you with a tilt of her head for a moment before giving a light, feminine laugh.

“Of course!” She says. “Ten, I have a home that I go to, no family, and I trained a while in my field. I still even remember my years in school. Why would you assume I don’t remember that?”

You pout. Of course it was a stupid question. You just let your mind wander again.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I just thought…”

“Do you think because I’m a little bit clumsy that I don’t know what I’m doing?” Monica questions with a raise of her brows. “You and I are similar because we’re so new, but don’t forget that I’m still a doctor. I’m just a fun doctor, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” you remark with a light scowl. “You’re all here for a reason. I’ve come to understand that in the time I’ve been here.”

“Is that why you’re so hesitant with me?”

You nod, not afraid of letting her know this.

“Ten, I know it must be difficult,” Monica assures you, giving a light sigh. “But I promise you I’m not mean. I know Mamita is, and I have heard stories of the others. But I do like being here and I do want to be kind to you all. Even if you want to be mean back, it’s my job as a doctor to be nice. We call that something along the lines of ‘bedside manner’.”

“That concept hardly applies in a place like this,” you shoot back, genuinely offended by her words and attempts at being so kind to you. It has to be a façade. “You know what they do to us. And you’ll do the same.”

“Yes, I probably will,” Monica does not bother to deny this. “But even in an actual bed, I’ll still be nice. Maybe a little bit expectant, but you know how it is. Though I won’t be getting a chance to right away. I was told I still need to be trained and supervised.”

She looks up in thought a moment. “Plus, I don’t think I have a Number yet. I’m not sure I’ll get one or not. My superior wasn’t quite clear on that, actually! He said to focus on this first.”

“Tormenting Mom or training?” You raise a brow. Monica laughs sweetly.

“Likely both, between you and me.”

You wish you could laugh at the idea of the vile Mom being brought so low, but you can’t much enjoy this moment knowing that Monica is still a doctor. No matter what she says, you have no reason to trust her fully. At the very most, you can speak to her with less constraint than some of the others.

The beating of your heart suddenly increases when a figure rounds the corner into the hall with the gate in it. You don’t really see distinct features right away, but do pick up on the color purple. It’s only when your eyes settle that you realize it’s Lilah. She isn’t exactly looking up yet, thumbing through paperwork she’s holding in one hand while looking down at it.

However, once she gets to the office, she looks up and sees Monica with her back to the young woman. Your unease at the bitter doctor’s arrival prevents you from saying anything, and you merely look on worriedly at her. Monica catches wind of your expression and stops smiling a moment, instead giving a confused lowering of her brow. She does, however, turn to match what it is you’re gazing at, and only laughs amusedly when she sees Lilah standing there with an unamused expression.

“Geez, they took you out of one cage and put you in another,” The cold doctor shoots out sharply, dropping her free hand and putting it on her hip. “What are you doing in there?”

“I had to grab a few things to restock in the other rooms,” Monica explains without issue. “You’re Doctor Valentine, right? We didn’t get to interact much last time.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t much like interactions,” Lilah scoffs. She then wags the paperwork in her hand toward Monica expectantly. “Anyway, I went to ask Micah something and that witch was with him. She sent me over to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid since they were working on whatever the fuck. I also have this file that needs to be stored. Since that’s obviously your job at the moment, I’ll need you to come get it.”

Monica frowns. “Well, my hands are a bit full right now. Why don’t you open the gate for me?”

You notice that she nods her head toward you slightly as she says this. It dawns on you that she can’t open the gate from the inside with you around. This only makes you assume that something in the hall is the failsafe. Your eyes wander over to the keypad by the infirmary, and you suppose maybe that’s the ticket. But it’s not like this information helps you in any way—you’d still need a code for that. And the idea of trying to escape, no matter how enticing, is pointless when you consider the consequence of leaving the others behind.

Lilah briefly flickers her icy blue eyes to you, and the sudden locking of gazes between you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The cold doctor then drops the hand with the papers in it by her side and lightly glowers, her painted brows lowering. However, she again looks back at Monica and refuses to acknowledge you.

“No fucking way am I going in that shithole that woman calls an office,” she refuses Monica. “I don’t file paperwork. I deliver and retrieve it at best. ‘Mommy’ is the one who plays secretary around here. But you’re the only one here, so I need you to get to it.”

Without giving Monica a chance to answer, she slams the paper on the counter of the door to the office and folds her arms.

“I’ll be nice and leave it here,” she says with contempt. “For the ‘newbie’, I suppose. But you really ought to learn how to multitask. It’s not my job to do yours. It’s bad enough that I barely said yes to watching you.”

Monica tries to remain cheerful in the face of these constant insults, but Lilah quickly calls her out.

“Don’t smile,” she spits. “You can be yourself if you want. You don’t have to pretend to be nice like her.”

“I am being myself,” Monica answers sweetly, opting to put all her bottles neatly back on the ground since she has to eventually open the gate herself. You keep a sharp eye on the woman, but she makes no attempts to move knowing that you’re still here. For as ditzy as she’s been, she’s certainly careful about this. “And I am nice, so don’t go underestimating me!”

She says this with such a lively tone, but the words themselves sound condescending and critical. Still, you watch as Lilah gives a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, as if she’s entertained by the woman’s reaction.

“That’ll change in time,” she assures her. “You’ll get frustrated over something stupid and things will go in a completely different direction. You’ll probably change. She sure did.”

Despite focusing on Monica, you then shift your gaze to Lilah with curiosity. You wonder just how long she’s known Mom to say something like this. People like Yosuke and Cyrus seem to have known her for a while and hinted that she was always pretty similar to how she is now. Was she ever a different person?

Lilah gives a genuine laugh this time at some thought of hers, but the noise still sounds fairly condescending and crude coming from her. It doesn’t at all sound like the laughter she shared with Milos. “So much for being a medical professional. I get to have all the fun and all she does is paper push. It’s actually hilarious. She’s sunk so low that I almost feel bad for her. But I don’t.”

She then leans against the wall by the office and turns her head toward Monica. “Speaking of which, when are you getting back to your own thing?”

Back to? This strikes you as strange. Is this just poor wording on her part?

“The boss says I’ll be on standby,” Monica assures the bitter young woman. “He wants me to stay here mostly. I don’t know why. But I guess I can’t go asking him.”

“You could, if he likes you enough,” Lilah raises a brow. “I do it all the time.”

“Well yes, Mamita was telling me he’s so lenient with you,” Monica giggles. This makes Lilah pout.

“He’s not ‘lenient’. He just doesn’t hate me,” She scoffs. “We’re not friends. He’s still a dick to me when he makes up his mind about this or that. He still yells at me like an asshole. But look, you wanna get on his good side, then do what he says. Don’t piss him off. That’s literally the only advice you need when it comes to him.”

Monica looks up in thought a moment. “Yes. I will keep it in mind.”

Lilah finally looks over at you and scowls. “Why don’t you scram, you nuisance? Monica has work to do.”

You don’t answer her, but the woman can clearly see frustration on your face. This only amuses her, and she makes a light “tch” noise at your pathetic disposition.

“You wanna act like a big girl, but you’re still shaking,” she remarks, teasing you. Still with her arms folded, she pushes off the wall and walks slowly toward the gate. Even if you’re not at all near it, the sight of her approaching still leaves you utterly uneasy.

“I heard from Micah how you like to talk back,” Lilah goes on. Monica merely looks on at her without knowing what to say. It looks as though she wants to stop the woman, but you’re sure she knows by now that she can’t. “But you don’t know how to deal with people like us. You’ll shut right the fuck up when we start getting a little unruly. Maybe if Yosuke hurt you too, he’d be able to put a lid on that disgusting, flapping mouth of yours. You need discipline. You need to be controlled.”

Your face grows slightly red as you become angrier at her insults, but you remain where you are and say nothing so as not to indulge nor rile up the woman. Lilah merely continues to smirk with her darkly painted lips as she watches your hesitance to speak up.

“You know, I had a body pretty recently I had to tear into,” she coyly teases you. “A healthy thing. She had these pretty blue eyes that were wide open the entire time. A scar on her neck. Welts on her arm. They were bandaged, but oh, they were pretty bad.”

Your eyes widen as you hear these things, knowing full well who Lilah’s referring to. Monica sees you shaking and genuinely seems worried for you, but doesn’t try to stop Lilah. Maybe she knows it’s pointless to.

“If you keep up that stupid fight of yours, you might end up just like her,” the colder woman tells you. “Even with a good physique, that girl couldn’t hold herself up. Her body was fine. Her head, on the other hand…”

Lilah lightly laughs. “Well, I don’t have to tell you how that looked. Remember, runt. You have no worth here. Know your place.”

Your breathing becomes slightly shallower, and you struggle to take it in through your nose. Lilah relishes seeing your disturbed reaction, but you try to hold yourself together as best you can to avoid giving her the satisfaction of enjoying it. You refuse to remember Jay this way.

Lilah finally frowns and looks at you with contempt. She says nothing more to you other than one thing:

“Leave.”

Eager to get away from this conversation, you opt to move away now that you have the chance, and enter the gardens without a second thought. You glimpse Monica looking worriedly at you, but she says nothing and tries to give a reassuring smile before you disappear from her sight. Lilah, however, only trails you with her icy eyes as she follows you down the hall with them.

When the garden doors shut behind you, you move to a wall near them and press your back against it. Trying to catch your breath and calm yourself, you press your right palm to your chest, over your pounding heart. As you try breathing steadily to calm down, you try to tell yourself that at least Jay didn’t have to hear all this about herself. Her misery is over, and she no longer has to suffer here.

This is the one thing that assuages you, though you’re simultaneously angry that Lilah would stoop so low and insult you with something needlessly cruel. It’s also something she knows she isn’t supposed to bring up, but maybe her boss really does play favorites and won’t snap at her for it. For what reason he does this, you’re not sure. But you’re much too frustrated and uneasy to really think about that right now.

Being in the gardens also brings another set of troubles to you. Even when you manage to come down from the previous conversation, you’re forced to relive the memory of being used here by your doctor. Your eyes lock onto the aisle you remember being laid down in. Even if the lights are bright now, you still can vividly picture how things looked after hours. And, unfortunately, you can still picture Yosuke atop you, hovering over your limp body. Remembering this causes you to move your hand from your heart to your head, and try to shut the memory out. Like in the music room, you try to remember something else. Anything.

Cyrus.

You spoke with him here a few times. And Blue once, though that was under unexpected circumstances. Remembering your conversation with her then almost makes you laugh. You can’t believe she was so eager to blab to Violet about you and Cyrus being coupled together. To think back on it after everything that happened in the crafts room today is so strange. The two girls are slowly starting to get along. Their head-bashing no doubt still will persist in some moments, but at least they’re making some kind of attempt to understand one another.

Dropping your hand now, you push past the aisles, avoiding looking back at the one you’d been in, and head to the backmost room. You’d not been in there since discovering the twins in arms. It’s not really like you wanted to avoid this place. It’s beautiful, after all. Merely, you never really had a reason to come back here. Or maybe you did subconsciously avoid it. Who knows?

Seeing the area again, it looks almost like a park of some kind. You wonder whether the roots of the planted trees will grow large enough to crack the floor and push through it, or if they’re cut somehow to prevent this from happening. One of the roots already looks to be creeping out of the ground and dangerously close to the pathway colored to look like a dirt one. The trees aren’t so grand that they would overgrow, you don’t think. Tower above you, certainly, but not be cumbersome to manage. You doubt any kind of flora here was planted if it couldn’t be easily managed.

You briefly run your hand along one tree and are stricken by how real it is. You remember what a tree feels like, what grass and bushes and flowers feel like. You remember what it’s like to be outside, but you don’t much remember what the outside is like. Maybe that makes no sense, but it’s all you can really say about it. Unless it’s something you’ve seen here or dreamt of, you struggle to picture certain things.

You’re sure someone like Six feels the same way that you do. She’d remarked in her journal about wanting to go out just once, and that she couldn’t remember what the outside looked like. The gardens only replace so much.

Really, all these areas only replace so much. The only glimpses you get into the outside world are through media. You don’t really think that outlandish fantasy stories or action movies are good representations of the real world and how it works. But maybe something is better than nothing.

You take a quick look around after pulling away from the rugged tree trunk, but it seems Cyrus isn’t here either. The rec room and theater are your only bets now, but you highly doubt he’d go to the rec room if he wants to be in a closed-off area. There are hardly any places to hide there other than the restroom, and the area is as open as the cafeteria. Maybe the theater is your best bet?

You try making your way out now. Despite the difficulty of your previous conversation and being faced with the gardens again, your brief respite has allowed you to calm back down. The plants around you did also play a part, you admit. Though, when you again head to the main area of the gardens, you do catch a glimpse of the planter Yosuke had taken a rose from. The flowers are admittedly so beautiful. For him to use them in such an ugly way only sickens you.

Wanting to push past this memory, you make your way to the doors and let them open. Rather than push forward, you first peek out into the hall to make sure Lilah isn’t there anymore. She seems to have disappeared, and so too has Monica. In fact, some of the bottles Monica had set on the floor are missing too, so you’re assuming she started carrying a few to restock the rooms. Better to do it now while everyone’s in the hall and the rooms are unoccupied, you suppose. And, if Lilah isn’t here by the office, she must be with Monica. Begrudgingly, you imagine. She probably doesn’t want to have to watch over the new doctor any more than Mom does. Though, she didn’t much appear to have a reason to hate the woman. She was, if anything, fairly forward like she has been with most people. In fact you’re sure the only people Lilah genuinely hates are the Numbers.

Why that is you don’t know. She appears not to like babying others. Certainly, she’s far more resilient against it than even Micah. He’s at least willing to do what he has to even if he complains about it. Lilah seems more spiteful and on the bratty side. You wonder what she thinks of the man herself if they’re fairly similar, but not precisely so. Micah feels far, for lack of a better word, “nicer” than Lilah, which is baffling since you know how horrible he can be.

Figuring it’s safe to come out now, you do step into the hall. Part of you wants to examine the bottles on the floor, but you don’t really want to risk anyone else showing up right now. You’ve wasted enough time already, and you’re sure the other Numbers have noticed you’re gone by now. Hopefully Violet made good on her promise to lie about where you are.

Even though you’re certain about Cyrus’ whereabouts by now, you do pop into the rec room just briefly to double check yourself. You admittedly can’t help it. But as you figured, he isn’t here. You’d half-expected to see him meditating by the couches like before, or at least sitting on one.

With nowhere else to really go, you finally make your way to the theater. The lights are all on, and the stage is visible. Perhaps your friend didn’t much want to be in the dark. You’d personally find it a little calming, but turning the lights off would only mean the projector would turn on instead. You’re not sure a movie playing would be particularly calming, especially if it isn’t a calming one to begin with.

“Cyrus?” You call out, trying to make your voice loud so that he knows you’re there. You don’t much hear a response, but do start to scan each row of beds just to double check for him. On the second to last row, you finally see the young man laying longways across the flatter part of the bed. Finally having found him, you smile slightly and sigh with relief. Though, you wonder if you should really bother him if he’s sleeping. You figure it’s worth a shot to at least pop in and see how he is after expending the effort to make sure he’s okay, so you do kneel beside your friend and shake him slightly by the shoulder.

His eyes slowly open, and they shift to focus up on your face as Cyrus realizes someone’s hovering over him. He gives a tired smile when he sees you.

“I didn’t realize I fell asleep,” he says groggily, wiping his eye. “But I guess I wasn’t out for very long. I don’t feel like I was.”

“Well, after that crying you did, I’m not surprised you felt a little tired,” You slightly laugh and sit beside him, waiting for your friend to shift himself up to sit down. He raises a knee and places a hand over it, but otherwise leans back against the back of the slightly upright back of the bed.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come after me. You didn’t have to.”

“Violet said I should,” you say plainly with a shrug. Cyrus merely looks at you with surprise in his aqua eyes.

“She did?”

“I was surprised too. But I did want to see if you were okay.”

You sit with your legs stretched out and fiddle with your fingernails mindlessly. “She just wants us to make up. She also mentioned she worried earlier that you were mad at her.”

“I’m not,” Cyrus says assuredly. “But I’m sure she knows that now.”

You look down. “She told you about that thing, right?”

“You mean Jade?” Cyrus remains blunt. “You knew about that?”

“She kind of told me. When we talked, she told me everything because she felt so guilty.”

Your companion sighs. “Well, she finally got around to telling me. It hurt, but I don’t hold it against her.”

You glance over at Cyrus curiously. “What did you do after she said it?”

The dark-haired young man looks on at the stage mindlessly.

“I forgave her,” he says simply. “It hurt and I needed to come to terms with what she said to me. But I forgave Violet. Not just for that, but for everything in general. I know she’s not a bad person, and I know she wants to try to be better. I trust her. Forgiveness is really important. I’d never hold anything like that against her, even if it does sting a bit to have to face it. Emotions run high in a place like this. People think, feel, and do all kinds of things. Of course it’s not their fault.”

“You said ‘forgiveness is important’,” you repeat, confused. “But that doesn’t apply to everyone, does it?”

Cyrus looks at you and makes a brief “hm?” noise, not understanding your question. You try to elaborate:

“I mean…could you forgive other people so easily? Even the doctors despite knowing what they’ve done?”

Your friend remains silent a moment as he looks down in thought, contemplating how to best answer you. After a brief pause, he shakes his head slightly.

“Ten, they’re awful people,” he bluntly remarks. “I can’t say that they’re not. But the thing about forgiveness is that it’s hard to do. It’s not impossible, but it can be extremely difficult.”

“So why forgive people like that at all? I don’t understand.”

“For yourself,” Cyrus elaborates, clutching his knee more tightly. “You forgive others so that you don’t hold onto so much grief and hatred. You forgive yourself for certain things as well for the same reason. I can’t say it’d be easy to forgive the doctors, but I could do it. Like a lot of things, it would just require more effort to do it.”

You glower slightly. “Well…that’s where you and I really disagree. I don’t think I could ever forgive the doctors for what they’ve done. Not just to me, but everyone here, and everyone before us. There might even have been people before your first group that they hurt, Cyrus. I can’t forgive them for that. They’re a part of something awful. The moment they say yes to being here is the moment they stop being human beings in my eyes.”

Cyrus smiles slightly, though the expression looks a bit strained.

“That’s your prerogative. I won’t fight you on it,” he answers you. “I don’t blame you for seeing it that way. Eight’s the same. But he lacks restraint. Especially in the beginning, he got his wires crossed. We were equally as despicable to him because he mistakenly believed we weren’t as angry as he was. But we were. We had just been trying not to let our grief consume us. You know now why that’s so important.”

You frown. “I know. I guess that’s why I came here. I wanted to see if you were okay after all that in the crafts room. I’m sure it was hard for you.”

Cyrus shifts his legs around so that he’s cross-legged, and he leans on his elbows while folding his arms.

“I’m alright,” he promises, though he doesn’t much bother to look over at you this time. “Or I will be.”

You frown. “Why did you cry?”

“Because of a lot of things,” Cyrus says with a shrug. “I miss my old group. But it’s more than that. It’s grief, sorrow, regret. And worst of all, seeing that memorial you all made…it just reminded me that none of this is permanent. Eventually we’re going to be the ones up on that wall. If the next group of Numbers even really gets to know who we are.”

You part your lips to speak, but don’t know how to respond and are unable to say anything. Cyrus merely glances at you with sincerity in his eyes.

“You know that too, don’t you? You know by now that we’re not going to live forever.”

“Cyrus…”

Your companion says nothing a moment, but does drop his hand from his knee and places if over your own hand.

“Ten, it’s okay,” he assures you. “Sometimes it’s a lot to take in and it gets to me. Thinking about the certainty of death is just hard to do. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little afraid of dying. But the meditation I do, the coming to terms with everything that I place such high importance on? I do that to cope with the inevitability of death. I know I’m going to die one day. I know this facility is going to be my tomb as well as my prison. I wish that weren’t the case, but the best I can do is be ready for it. Death is natural. We shouldn’t be afraid of it, but we are. And it’s okay to be.”

He squeezes your hand tightly. You somewhat wince hearing these words, remembering that Cyrus had expressed similar opinions on death back in the crafts room while under the influence of the anesthetic. He’d sounded much more defeated then, and you figure he’d intended to keep those ideas hidden from others. But for him to express these grievances now when he’s genuinely conscious…

“I’m sorry if that scares you, Ten.” Your companion shakes away your thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. We just have to stick by each other in the meantime.”

You nod in agreement, but continue to say nothing. Cyrus eventually retracts his hand and lets you think on this a bit.

“Well…anyway, it’s just difficult to be reminded of the others sometimes,” he says. “I guess today it hit me especially hard. I’m usually fine thinking about it. Like I said, I do meditate to overcome these grievances.”

“But you’re not meditating now,” you point out, trying to push past the talk of death. You know it’s an important thing to talk about, but right now is probably not the best time. Both of you are quite glum about different things, after all.

Cyrus exhales slightly as if to laugh.

“I wasn’t in the best of moods,” he admits, analyzing himself. “I figured I’d lay down to try relaxing myself first, but then I guess I started to nod off. Which is odd since I was gone for so long. I’m sure I was put under for a while earlier too."

You lower a brow. “How would you know that?”

“I’ve been here long enough to tell.” Cyrus shrugs. “I don’t know precise times. But general timeframes aren’t hard to place. Meal types, routine memorizations, all those kinds of things contribute to a vague sense of time in a place where we have none. Even when I want to ignore it, I sometimes can’t. Anyway, I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t here for the morning.”

“You were having a visit with Jonathan, I heard from Mom. Right?”

Cyrus nods. “Right. But either before or after, I was in the middle of something else. I had to have been. I was just unconscious for it. I don’t even know who brought me here because I woke up in the rec room. But anyway, someone probably just did a checkup or something. They do that sometimes, and then occasionally you’ll wake up with soreness or pain where they do things like injections to you. Besides, you’ve noticed that some of the other Numbers aren’t always around, right? Visits aren’t always that long. There’s more that’s done sometimes.”

You look up in thought. “Yeah…now that you mention it. Plus, when I woke up after my shot, I was being looked over by Nathaniel. He’d said examining us is easier when we’re asleep. But what would they really look over other than general physical stuff?”

“They probably do more intricate things like x-rays or specific kinds of tests or something,” Cyrus supposes with a shrug. “Hell if I know. I’m not a doctor. The only person here who knows anything about medical stuff would be Eight because he reads so much. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows first-aid just so he doesn’t have to call for a doctor when he’s hurt.”

“Eight’s not exactly the caretaker type, though,” You subtly laugh. “He’s partial to independence, either in himself or in others.”

“Well, he does care about people even if he doesn’t want to admit it,” Cyrus chortles. “He’s shown this with Violet, Five and Six. Even you and Three. He’s at least respectful, if not outright nice. He’s really been changing lately.”

You look down at your wrists and frown. “Yeah…I guess so.”

Cyrus catches you doing this and raises a brow, but he says nothing. You keep talking instead.

“He and I have Yosuke in common,” you remark. “That’s mainly why he’s been so connected to me. But weirdly, even he’s starting to not know what to make of my doctor. He’s been doing ridiculous, awful things more regularly. Just to keep me in line.”

“But it isn’t working, is it?”

“No.” You scowl. “I can’t help my body reacting to Yosuke, but he confuses that with me falling for him. Maybe in the beginning I started to. I hate admitting it, but being taken care of and wanted…it feels good. But he’s gotten so crazy and possessive lately. I feel like he’s just turning into Mom. Holding me hostage, punishing me for disobeying him and lying to him. Last night, he even made me sleep with my wrists tied. I had to walk around today like that until Eight cut the cloth off in the crafts room. I felt so fucking awful. Ever since he drugged me, Yosuke’s just been different.”

“I’m sorry,” is your friend’s only real response to this. You can’t much blame him. He doesn’t know what Yosuke is like any more than you know what Mom is like outside of the few times you’ve had to deal with her.

“Is Mom that way at all?” You ask him. “With you specifically?”

“Something like it,” Cyrus tells you with a shrug. He looks up in thought. “She’s always been a bit crazy, like I’ve said before. She has a temper, she hates rejection, and she commands respect. She’s not afraid of being firm with me when she thinks I’m misbehaving. And for however rough she’s been with you, she’s even rougher with the boys. She’s not afraid of hurting us just as a quick means of being reprimanding. She expects a lot of us and sometimes won’t even give us warnings like she does with you.

“Granted, she can act like a genuine ‘mother’ when she wants to. When she isn’t being ridiculously horny, angry, or tricky, anyway. There have been times where she’s genuinely shown me kindness—taking care of my injuries, making sure I’m fed and clothed. She’s been nurturing to me before. Specifically me. But she hasn’t acted that way in quite some time. Lately, she’s just been obsessed. And not just with me, but with the idea of attention in general. She’s gotten worse since her punishment. But unlike Yosuke, she isn’t super possessive of me unless someone’s genuinely trying to hurt me. She’s gotten stern with Milos before for being too rough. And you saw how she got a bit firm with Yosuke when he was hounding me.”

You nod.

“And as far as the whole attention thing goes, I’ve noticed it. She did try to put a move on Nathaniel recently,” You recall with a pout. “When Yosuke rejected her, she started going after others. And no doubt she’s doing the same to Micah now that she’s with him right now.”

Cyrus tilts his head slightly. “How do you know that?”

“I got stopped in the hall while looking for you,” you explain. “By Monica. She mentioned Mom having to step out because Micah needed her.”

You scoff, but not in genuine upset. “By the way, thanks for not mentioning her before. Nine had to tell me.”

Cyrus lightly laughs. “Sorry. I guess it slipped my mind. I only met her briefly, but she seems more relaxed than some of the other doctors. Still, I can’t exactly place her yet.”

“Well, I’m wary of her,” you say firmly. “I don’t trust her, no matter how nice to me she is. Though it is kind of weird how nice she’s being with Mom. She was even nice to Lilah, since she showed up a little while ago too.”

“I’m sure Mom’s just kind of jealous of Monica,” Cyrus supposes, giving a light shrug. “She seems really bitter that someone’s invading her space. Mom’s able to handle the office on her own, on top of anything else she does outside of it. So there’s no reason to bring in another person. I think Monica’s there to keep an eye on her, really.”

“Well, she knows what she’s doing,” you scoff. “She admitted to me she plays dumb sometimes just to peeve Mom off. But the weird thing is that she’s also genuinely that dimwitted sometimes too. I still don’t know what to think of her, but I certainly don’t want to let my guard down. I’ve done it too many times already.”

Cyrus looks over at you with concern. “Ten, it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s not your fault.”

You sigh. “I know, sorry. Anyway, some of the others probably already met Monica. Two even said she looked familiar after he, his sister, and I talked with Charlie.”

You notice Cyrus giving a bit of a confused look, but you continue to speak before he can ask you about it. “I’m guessing you haven’t met him yet. He’s the worker behind the pane in the cafeteria.”

“Really? How did you manage to communicate with him?” Cyrus questions curiously. “I’ve never really talked to him openly except a few times, but it’s not like he was ever able to answer.”

“Some papers with faces on them,” you say with a light smile. “It isn’t much, but maybe it’ll help. I just wanted to make him feel like a person. And I guess it did help me deal with the strangeness of having someone mysterious back there just shove food at us.”

“Did he make you uneasy?”

“A lot of things do,” you admit meekly, looking down. “The workers in general are so odd for me to deal with. I feel weird not seeing someone’s face.”

Cyrus lowers his brows as he thinks on this statement.

“The workers aren’t bad people though, I don’t think. But I don’t really see them much.”

“No, they’re not,” You agree with him. “They seem to just do what they’re told. I don’t know why they don’t fight back, but it is what it is I guess. I can only imagine what awful things they go through to be so trained like that. Only answering to the doctors’ boss and, debatably, his lackey. I remember the Nurse I saw answering to him when he ordered her around, anyway.”

You heave a heavy sigh.

“I don’t like thinking about him. But he scares me.”

“The boss or his lackey?” Cyrus raises a brow. You frown.

“Both. But I’ve never met the boss before.” This is a lie, of course, You’re still not sure if the man is watching you. With how closed off these beds are, you feel as though it’s safe to talk more openly here. But as a precaution, you try to avoid being more open. As it is, you were pretty forward in the crafts room by making your doll of Jay. “The other guy is the one that I’ve seen more of. Once when I woke up after my shot, and again when I was recovering from it. And that nightmare I had recently…he was there. He tried to kill Yosuke, so I tried to stop him.”

“Why?”

You close your eyes. “I have no idea. I just don’t like the idea of watching people die, I guess. I have my reasons. But then in my dream, he turned his gun on me instead. I remember begging for my life before waking up. It felt so real.”

You scrunch up your hands in your gown again in frustration at remembering this.

“He’s taunted me about killing people before. But it’s not like he’s the only one who’s cruelly teased me about that kind of thing,” you tell him. “Lilah taunted me about the girl I made a doll of just earlier. She mentioned her autopsy. Even if it was brief, what she said was awful”

“Lilah is the kind of woman to peck at people for fun,” Cyrus remarks somewhat bitterly. “She gets off on misery and pain. She’s always been the straightforward type, too. It’s unfortunate that she’s Eight’s doctor. I noticed those bruises on his arms that day he came back, but never mentioned them because I know he hates being in the spotlight. In any case, he’s none too shy about divulging his hatred for Lilah, nor her petty squabbles with Mom.”

“Is there a reason why they hate each other?”

Cyrus shrugs again. “I wouldn’t know. There seems to be some underlying history between them. I guess something happened, but I have no idea what. They were already pretty nasty to one another when I showed up. But in general, Lilah’s too much of a wild person for someone like Mom. She’s a lot younger than her, and her tactics are far different than Mom’s. Even when my doctor can be harsh, she’s never outright cruel without reason. Firm, definitely. But not at all wicked. You have to really piss her off to get her to be that way.”

He shakes his head.

“You just have to learn to deal with it, unfortunately. Lilah’s fickle. But as long as you don’t give her a reaction, she might back off. She gets bored easily.”

“It’s kind of hard not to react to her,” you mutter. When you slowly open your eyes again, you catch Cyrus looking at you worriedly. You glance back at him, uncertain of why he’s staring.

“What?”

“Why did you make a doll of that girl, anyway?” Cyrus questions. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

You didn’t think he’d bring it up, but aren’t much surprised that he did. He, Lav, and Eight all had their concerns about your actions. Maybe it was stupid of you, but you had your reasons.

“I had to. For myself. I know I might get in trouble, but for once, I just don’t care.”

Cyrus frowns and lowers his dark brows.

“Ten, don’t be so careless,” he warns. “For god’s sake. We don’t wanna lose you.”

He then puts his hand on your shoulder. “You mean a lot to us.”

The both of you go silent for a little while after this, and Cyrus eventually drops his hand again when he sees you not responding. You aren’t really sure what else to say on the subject. You know that everyone cares about you. Maybe you are a little too careless. You ask questions, you do careless things. But there are topics the others talk about that should get them in trouble, but doesn’t. You’re sure the boss is able to accept that some things are said. Even if he doesn’t like it, he might willfully ignore it if the issue isn’t that drastically important.

Then again, you say this to yourself as if it’s a truth. You don’t know the man, nor do you ever want to. One encounter with him was enough to send a chill down your spine, to strike you with fear. He had no problem letting go of Jay or stepping casually over her dead body. He had no problem hurting you, and certainly has had no problem hurting others. Even doctors.

That man scares you. He and Marcellus are horrifying.

“So…why exactly has Yosuke been so possessive anyway?” Cyrus suddenly asks, taking you aback and shaking you from your thoughts. You’re not sure how to feel about the sudden question, but figure he’s just as curious about your relationship to the man as you are about Cyrus’ relationship to Mom. “There’s gotta be a reason, right?”

“You think I know?” You scowl and grip the cloth of the hem of your gown tightly. “He gets mad when I don’t tell him things or when I lie to him. He gets mad when he sees me getting close to others. You saw how he acted with you. He got upset knowing that we were paired together, even if it wasn’t because we wanted to be. He did something drastic because I was dishonest about it, but I remember him bringing you up like he was pressing me for my opinion on you.”

“Is that why he kept you here that one night? Was he upset?”

You shake your head. “No, I think that was just a product of his shitty interpretation of my feelings. He assumed that I was falling for him because of how I reacted under the influence of that awful drug. I lent myself to him, I acted like I wanted him. He mentioned I gave him what I wanted and showed him his ‘methods’ were working. So he set all that up just so he could have me in what he thought was a special way.”

You hunch over and bring your hands to your face, mainly cupping your forehead in frustration.

“He kept saying he wanted me to get pregnant, that it would make him happy,” you gruesomely recount, your fingers pressing firmly against your hair and flesh. “He made me feel helpless. That’s all he ever does. No matter how much I fight, I always crumble beneath him. And that time, I couldn’t even move. I wasn’t even tied up. My body was just frozen and drugged.”

You sigh and drop your hands back in your lap, holding them tightly together in a clasping grasp.

“I wish you could understand. But you don’t know what it is to be afraid of pregnancy. I don’t just fear losing you and being taken away, or maybe even forgotten. But I don’t know what it’s like. It scares me. What’s even worse is the idea of Yosuke getting what he wants. I can handle the physical pain when push comes to shove, I’m sure. Him, on the other hand…”

“There’s still a chance you’re alright,” Cyrus tries to assure you, noting how much more anxious you’ve grown. “Just hold onto that while you can. It’s been a while, anyway.”

“You know that’s not enough of an indication,” You tell him. “Considering the ones who have been affected and how it went for them. For one it happened fast. But not for the other.”

“…I know.”

You notice his crestfallen face as he mumbles this, and look down.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about it that way,” you apologize to your friend. You hadn’t intended to hurt his feelings. “I know it’s a hard topic for everyone. Anyway, Yosuke’s my burden and nobody else’s. So don’t worry about it. There’s nothing you guys can do for me any more than there is anything I can do for you.”

“It’s alright to express yourself the way you are,” Cyrus assures you. “Don’t hold back on my account. But I am sorry you feel that way. It’s a horrifying thing to deal with. You and Eight have it pretty bad with your doctors. Even Five sometimes struggles with hers. You know how Milos is.”

He looks back toward the stage again, staring blankly at it and not focused on anything in particular.

“Was Yosuke upset about you lying to him again? This time, I mean.”

You glance over at Cyrus with unease, but choose to try answering him as best you can.

“Yes.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“A little. He was a bit rough before leaving.”

Cyrus seems a bit quiet all of a sudden. You can see in his eyes that he’s none too happy to hear that you were hurt. But as you said, nothing can be done about it now.

“Why?” He asks, prompting your heart to beat at a slightly faster rhythm. You know he’s not upset that you fooled around with anyone before you two were coupled together. You had no issue telling him a vague truth last time. But would he be upset knowing it was Lav?

“The usual possessiveness,” you try to play this off casually. “He assumed I was getting closer to someone, and when I said I wasn’t, he caught onto it and did his stupid little punishment thing. I had tried to fool him and failed.”

You sigh. “I do that a lot. I’m not a great liar. Even you guys can tell when I’m avoiding being so honest. But at least sometimes you’re all okay with it. Sometimes I need to lie, and sometimes I need people to accept that.”

“I know what you mean,” Cyrus gives a weak breath as if to laugh. Though, he does look over at you with curiosity. “So…you did you get close to someone?”

You blush and avoid reciprocating his gaze, but do eventually slowly and subtly nod. Cyrus smiles slightly at your hesitance.

“Ten, you don’t have to be ashamed to admit it,” he says. “I’ve told you I’m not mad about it. I don’t think less of you for it at all.”

“I know,” you respond sheepishly. “I just feel weird. You know how I am.”

“I know how you are, sure. But Nine’s not too shy,” Cyrus remarks casually. His sudden statement makes your eyes go wide, and you immediately turn your head to look more directly at the young man beside you with bewilderment.

“You knew?!”

Cyrus gives a bit of a chortle, as if amused by your shock.

“I did,” he admits. “I didn’t the first time, even though I wasn’t trying to play detective or anything about it. But I’ve noticed that Nine talks a lot about you and hovers over you. When we were together those days you were out, she did bring you up a lot.”

He turns to glance at you with his aqua eyes, his expression soft.

“I figure she really likes you, Ten. I don’t think she’d go after you if she just wanted to fool around, knowing that you’re not the kind of person who does that so freely.”

Your cheeks continue to grow red as Cyrus says these things. On one hand, you’re glad he doesn’t much seem to mind the idea of you and Lav being intimate, but on the other, you’re utterly embarrassed to be called out this way. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, and that he’s just trying to make a good-faith, casual observation. He’s friendly that way. Even so, you hadn’t expected this to surface. You figured you’d have to work your way through bringing up Lav at all.

“I…don’t know how to respond to that,” you finally tell him. In your embarrassment, you look away and continue fidgeting mindlessly with your fingers.

“Sorry if I put you on the spot,” Cyrus apologizes, rubbing his neck. “If it makes you feel better, I’m happy for you.”

“What?” You finally look back over to him with raised brows. “Cyrus, we’re not a couple. I’m still not sure how I feel about that right now.”

Cyrus shakes his head. “I wasn’t assuming you were. I just mean I’m glad you’re slowly figuring out what makes you happy. Is that not the case?”

You look down again. “I don’t really know. I feel kind of awkward talking about this with you.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Cyrus shrugs. “I’m not trying to impose. Besides, I kind of know what you mean about the uncertainty.”

You eventually stop fiddling with your hands and look on at the stage the same way your companion had. Your mind slips back to the memory of Yosuke twirling you around in your dress, and you scowl slightly. However, you do your best to stay focused on the conversation.

“…Is it because of Jade?” You question with a low voice. Cyrus hesitates a moment as he ponders how to answer you, but soon gives a light “yes” toward your question.

“I guess I just hesitated with her,” he elaborates, his eyes fixated on the ground by the foot of the bed. “Maybe it was foolish of me. But she wasn’t much in the right headspace anyway. I wouldn’t have wanted to seem selfish by going after her in that state.”

You frown. “You still love her?”

“…I do.” Cyrus says quietly. “But I know it’s foolish of me to hold onto my feelings as if in expectation of something.”

He exhales slowly as if to sigh.

"She’s never coming back. I’m aware of that. I should have known she wasn’t ever going to come back the moment you showed up. And really, I’ve had more than enough time to move on. But then all this mess with Violet happened and now I just don’t know how to feel about that kind of thing. So, I get it. It’s not exactly easy to jump into relationships. Five and Six seem to have a good head on their shoulders for it. Even Nine and Blue seem willing to have an open relationship with someone. But it’s not easy to do that kind of thing when there’s only Ten of us here.”

“Three and Blue seem eager for a genuine relationship,” You laugh slightly, trying to keep Cyrus’ mind from wandering too far into a negative state. “Three’s more of a hopeless romantic if her reactions to those lovey-dovey movies are any indication. And Blue seems like she just wants the attention from someone.”

You drop your light smile when you notice Cyrus’ lack of response. He remains sitting there with his eyes glued to the floor, likely as he thinks on things. You again frown and lean forward, attempting to match his hunched over stance and more clearly look at him.

“What was it like back then, anyway?” You ask, again attempting to keep his mind off of negative thoughts. Cyrus blinks a moment as he snaps back to, and he turns his head to face you with a confused expression.

“What do you mean?”

“With the other Numbers,” you elaborate. “Like, who were they? Who were their doctors? What was a normal day like for all of you? That kind of thing.”

“Their doctors?” Cyrus ponders this a moment. He appears to try recollecting himself after the previous solemn topic. You figure keeping him busy trying to recall something else is better than nothing. “Right…by the time this group started to form, most of the doctors you know now were around and had been a while. I don’t remember when yours came, but the others were already here by then. And I hardly really remember any other doctors myself. If I ever visited any, it’s been a long while, and I only really saw them a few times. Otherwise, it’d mostly been those that we know.”

“You don’t happen to remember seeing anyone like Monica, do you?” You question curiously. Cyrus shakes his head.

“No. I have no idea why Two might have said she was familiar. I have no memory of her face.”

He shrugs.

“Anyway, about the other group—you’ve never experienced transitions with assignments, but with Numbers disappearing, some doctors went without. And with some Numbers coming in, other doctors had to oversee multiple people. It depended mainly on how busy they were and how interested they were in the new Numbers.”

“I can only imagine how awful it must have been to share a doctor with someone,” you remark. “If someone like Mom got a hold of two Numbers at once, she wouldn’t have to ask permission to pair them together for her own entertainment.”

Cyrus sighs. “Yeah. But luckily nobody who did have multiples was so shitty as to do that. As far as who had which doctor, I think Sienna had Sven. He ended up going without a Number for a long time after she disappeared.”

Your eyes slightly widen. “Is he the one who…?”

Though you trail off, Cyrus merely shrugs as he figures what you were going to ask.

“I don’t know,” he says lowly. “It could have been anyone she’d been visited by. But I’d rather not think about it.”

This is fair, you figure. You’d hate to mull over that kind of thing yourself, were it to ever happen to anyone else. You’re lucky, though. By now, it’s likely certain that none of the girls in your group have to deal with pregnancy. It seems you’re the only one who’s at risk.

“Jet’s doctor had Micah, if I recall,” Cyrus goes on. “He was another doctor who went without a Number for a good while, but he also was pretty busy back then and I didn’t see much of him. I never pegged Micah as someone willing to go for guys, but he didn’t seem to have much trouble with Jet. Granted, Jet was always a bit of a wild guy at times. Maybe he was a perfect complement to him.”

This strikes you as strange. You can’t much imagine Micah getting his kicks with another male, but he seems to love having control over others just as much as he does sex itself. If Yosuke’s description of Lilah is true, then Micah might be a bit like her. But rather than finding pleasure solely in the infliction of pain, he finds pleasure in both the aspect of control and sex. He’s at least far more aggressive than someone like Yosuke when it comes to his play.

“Four had Gale,” Cyrus goes on. Again, you’re surprised by this. “He didn’t really talk about Gale much, but he mentioned them once. I’m not sure how their relationship was, and I didn’t really want to ask. I figure Four was too reluctant to act out despite probably being stronger than his doctor. And I have no idea what it is they really talked about.”

“Or what Gale’s motivation was in dealing with him?” You question bitterly, remembering the doctor’s fascination with human behavior and environmental reaction. Cyrus shakes his head.

“I don’t know specifics, sorry,” he apologizes. “I wish I could say. But anyway, Gale went without a Number for a short while, until Six came by. They don’t seem like the type to care about whether or not they oversee someone, but I also don’t doubt they want to have a Number just for the chance to observe them. Is that possibility what you were getting at and why you reacted like you did?”

You nod, but don’t verbally respond. Cyrus merely looks down, but presses on with his recounting.

“Penny had Nathaniel. He had two Numbers back then. So did Jonathan since the twins arrived at the same time. Jonathan had been overseeing Amber, actually. Not really sure how those two handled their doctors, but they got pretty lucky since Jonathan and Nathaniel are both fairly nice compared to others. Some of the other Numbers were pretty unlucky. Like Olive…”

He glowers. “She was saddled with Lilah. Olive was a tough girl, so she could handle her doctor. In fact I wager that’s why Lilah bothered to shelter her. From what it sounded like, she wasn’t attracted to Olive. I don’t doubt she isn’t even that attracted to Eight. But I just felt bad seeing Olive with welts and bruises now and again. I can only imagine how much she was holding in. She really didn’t talk much unless she needed to step in or felt like she had something to contribute. I guess like our Nine, in a way.”

“The others didn’t mention that,” You solemnly remark, looking away. “But I guess it’s better they didn’t. I’d want to remember someone in a positive way myself.”

“Yeah…” your companion quietly agrees, though something about him seems distant, you notice. You wonder what he might be thinking, but he doesn’t much stop to let you ponder it. Cyrus again picks up the conversation.

“The previous Eight had Jude, and Nine had Milos,” he elaborates, almost poignantly. “I can only imagine Jude was awful for Eight to deal with, but she never wanted to bring him up. Kind of like Three and any doctor she’s with, really.”

“She did mention Eight had some similar tendencies,” you recall from earlier. “And it must have been awful for Nine too. Milos isn’t exactly…great.”

Cyrus exhales through his nose as he thinks on this. “He’s awful. But Nine was able to handle it. He got a little less rough when our Five arrived, but it’s not like he doesn’t have his moments. He still has a variety of vices. And he can still be really mean.”

“I’m aware,” you mention, embittered. It’s getting a bit easier to think about what happened with Milos when so much worse has gone on since then, but the encounter still leaves a terrible impression on you. If it isn’t fear that arises, it’s anger.

“My memory of the doctors interacting with everyone is a bit hazy, but I remember general details,” Cyrus moves on upon seeing your discomfort. “I don’t much remember Jade’s doctor though. Nor the previous Ten’s. I only remember seeing Jade’s once before she left. I know it was a man, but I guess he didn’t much see anyone else.”

“Maybe he was like Yosuke,” You ponder this. “Where he wanted just one Number for himself.”

Cyrus looks down. “I guess so. But I have no idea if he’s the one who got her pregnant or not. And if he is, I have no idea why he disappeared. I don’t even know if he’s still alive or not. Either he was moved elsewhere, or he did something that got him in serious trouble.”

“Do you think it could be because he got Jade pregnant?” Again, you can’t help your curiosity. You do slightly regret asking this when you see Cyrus’ sullen face in response to your question. But you can’t much take it back now.

“I don’t know,” your friend says with a slight shrug. “Sven didn’t disappear after Sienna, even though the chance of him being responsible for Sienna’s pregnancy was equal to the chance Jade’s doctor had for being responsible for hers. So maybe the guy did something specific and we never knew about it because she never wanted to talk about it. But I’m a little glad he’s not still around. I don’t think I’d have been able to stomach seeing him after she left. It’s enough that I remember what I do. But a constant reminder…”

Cyrus trails off, but you know what he’s implying. You notice that the conversation lulls a bit after this, and you decide not to press Cyrus further about these less pleasant memories. Maybe it was a bit insistent of you to ask about this at all. Apparently you have an awful tendency to pry, even when it comes to friends. You guess Gale and Yosuke weren’t kidding when they discussed this about you.

To make things better, you try to move back to the less grief-ridden portion of your initial series of questions regarding the other Numbers. Even if the conversation turns negative again, you’d at least like to try guiding it in a better direction to show Cyrus you care about how he feels. Again, you ask,

“Well…besides all that, what about how the other Numbers used to be? How were things back then when you weren’t dealing with the doctors?”

Your companion looks over at you and hesitates a moment, but eventually shifts back to a less morose state. He seems aware of what you’re trying to do and wants to play along. But whether or not he genuinely feels less awful, you’re not sure.

“What can I really say?” Cyrus weakly laughs. “We weren’t sure what we were doing or who we were. In the beginning, we were all pretty weary coming to terms with what we had to deal with. But I guess like the group now, we tried not to think too hard about it. We didn’t really place much importance on things like coping strategies, but it’s not like we didn’t have them. We just didn’t know that’s what they were. We tried to do our own things.”

He shrugs.

“I guess we weren’t always together. And we did have a lot of fights because we were all so different. Some of us were more relaxed or shy. Others were more high-strung and forward. People like the previous Eight hid away a lot and only stuck to people familiar to her. Olive was somewhat like that, but she had no issues speaking up when she really had to. She wasn’t exactly shy, but she wasn’t participative either.

“Someone like Nine was more nurturing, but could be forceful if she had to put her foot down. I guess you could consider her a bit like a mother at times, but certainly not a pushover. Amber wasn’t afraid to express her feelings and say what was on her mind. Jet, Four, and Sienna were all more laid back and stuck together through most everything. And Penny, she was also pretty relaxed. She just hung around whoever wanted to have her around. At some point, she mostly hung around the twins. I guess like Two, she wanted to try laughing through the pain. She was a pretty level-headed girl, I remember. She wasn’t the most nurturing person, but she could be sweet and show sympathy.”

Cyrus pauses a moment to think a bit more on this.

“On good days, we were all just around one another or off in our ‘groups, I guess you could say. Either we didn’t much bother each other, or we’d talk just a bit to one other. We never really all got together like our group does now, but we did occasionally share some conversations.”

You frown. “And…on bad days?”

Cyrus sighs. “Fights. Lots of fights. Arguments, tears…you know how it goes. Eight cried a lot. She never really liked people seeing her cry, but it was always obvious when she’d been doing it. Amber butted heads with a lot of people, but she would really only be respectful and restrain herself when she had to. She wasn’t completely awful, really. She had heart.

“I remember Four being really sweet, but if you really got him riled up, he’d start shouting and trying to control the situation. He never really liked doing it, but he could. He hated seeing people fight, but his attempts to level things out only led to more fighting from the more stubborn members of our group. Olive was kind of the same way as Four, really. She mostly stayed quiet unless it was necessary for her to step in. And Penny didn’t much like the fights herself. She could hold her own to an extent, but otherwise got easily frustrated and would sometimes just drop a conversation entirely if she didn’t know what to do with it. I guess you could say it was like shutting others out.”

He then scoffs.

“And Sienna…She had a temper. She could be sweet, but if you got her riled up, she’d go off pretty hard. Amber pushed her buttons a few times, sometimes on purpose. I guess it was entertaining for her. In a way, they were like Blue and Violet in the way they argued. Both very stubborn and vocal.”

“Did anyone ever make you mad?” You ask. Cyrus expels breath through his nose as if to laugh and smiles.

“A lot,” he admits. “I didn’t really like when they all argued. It took me a long time to mellow out, you know. I did used to be ‘normal’ if that makes sense.”

He runs a hand through his hair a moment. “I was a little more frustrated, a little more fearful. Probably a tinge younger too, since I’ve been here for so long. Hell, my hair was even shorter then, now that I think about it.”

You chuckle at this comment of his. You can’t much imagine him with really short hair.

“Point is, how you know me now isn’t really how I was,” Cyrus goes on. “I reacted to things like you guys do. I wasn’t always so accepting of what happened to me. That took a lot of experience and patience. Even then, I’m still capable of lashing out if I have to or if I’m pushed enough. You saw how I was with Eight in the gym.”

“That did sort of surprise me,” you remark. “And everyone, really. I guess they all got used to how you are now.”

“They did,” Cyrus laughs, not at all refuting this assumption. “Other than me, the twins would know more than anyone how people were back then. How Blue used to mope around, how Five and Six were before they became a couple. All of that.”

“I cannot imagine a single time before Five and Six got together,” you giggle. Even if the reminder of their coupling happening through Gale’s intervention does sting a bit, you do admit you’re happy for the girls. With how often you’ve seen them so close together, it’s nearly unthinkable to imagine them apart.

“Are your memories of the other group strong, or fuzzy at all like they are with the previous Ten’s?”

Cyrus ponders this a moment, straightening himself up and again leaning back against the angled portion of the bed.

“I…don’t really know,” he tells you honestly. “I remember them. I can picture their faces, their voices. But recalling spending time with them and trying to picture it vividly makes it feel like I’m looking through glass. It’s not hard to see, but it does have some fogginess to it. I can’t exactly place it. But I do still remember them. Those memories haven’t left me.”

He sighs.

“But when I try to remember Ten, all I get is this numbness. I can’t picture anything but his orange clothes. I can’t see his frame, his skin, his face…nothing. Just his color. If I try too hard to think about it, my head starts to hurt. I can’t make the connections I need to in order to remember him. I don’t know why.”

“Yosuke said they prevent us from recalling things,” You point out, thinking back to your first time meeting the man. Though, thinking on this only brings your heart sadness. You were so scared and angry then. Even now you still are, for so many different reasons. This place is insufferable. “Is that what Mom told you when you first came?”

Cyrus again tries to think about this.

“I don’t much remember a lot about my first time here,” he admits, scratching at his neck slightly. “I don’t remember specifics, anyway. It might have been so long ago that I’ve just forgotten. And if it’s not that, it must be all the injections I’ve had. Or whatever else they might have done to my head to make me forget about Ten. Hell, there could easily have been a larger group with us, and I’d never remember. The others certainly don’t seem to know. I’ve said this before, but if I don’t know something, they likely don’t either.”

He turns to you then and raises a brow. “Except for you, I guess. You’ve been learning a lot. Even some things I don’t know.”

You glower. “Yeah, well I’m not trying to.”

Cyrus shakes his head. “I know it’s not information you want to know or things you want to face, but believe me when I say having a leg up on knowledge isn’t always a bad thing. There are obviously dangerous topics that you need to be careful with, and some things may just pain you to know, but being knowledgeable can also help you help others. You know, when they start feeling uncertain about this or that, or when they start asking questions.”

“But you can’t tell people everything right?” You question. Cyrus nods in affirmation of this.

“Right. Sometimes it’s better not to. But you have to be the judge of that, really. Sometimes you do have to tell certain truths that you know might hurt others. But sometimes it’s okay not to be honest if doing so would mean causing a storm.”

Hearing this, you lean back as well and lay against the angled bed. You close your eyes then and exhale through your nose slightly.

“This sucks,” you say simply. “But I guess it’s nice to have people around so that it doesn’t suck so much.”

“Yeah…”

As you open your eyes again, you catch sight of Cyrus’ solemn expression and look on at him worriedly.

“Are you okay?” You ask him gently.

“It’s easier to say yes,” Cyrus answers briefly. “You know how it is.”

This makes you frown again. “I do, but it’s not like it’s a good thing. Don’t tell me how important it is to be open about my feelings while holding them in yourself.”

“I already mentioned it. It’s not something you need to hear more of,” he answers, almost mumbling his words.

You shake your head. “Stop defending me. When I hear awful things from the doctors, it always hurts. But I can be strong when those awful things are said by you guys because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t say things to hurt me on purpose. I want you to be open about how you feel, and I have no qualms about hearing it from you. So please don’t hold it in. You know you can trust me.”

Cyrus says nothing for a while, despite your expectant stare. He doesn’t bother to look back at you this time, merely looking onward without any expression to guide your understanding of what he might be thinking.

“Cyrus…”

“I know.” The young man responds finally when he hears your warning tone. He continues to keep his eyes fixated on the distant stage, but he does finally elaborate his thoughts. “Ten, I’m tired. I was happy to talk about the other Numbers again. It was nice to reminisce about my time with them. It always is. But every time I have to think about them and then look back at you all, I’m only reminded how easily everyone can be taken from me.”

He closes his eyes.

“I want to be happy, and sometimes I am. I’ve always tried to have a good head on my shoulders. I have worked so hard to keep myself afloat. I’ve changed so much over time, and I’ve done so much better. But like I said, this isn’t permanent. I could die tomorrow. You could. Anyone could. None of this is certain. And every time I have to remind myself of that, I get hurt. I’m reminded of everything I’ve seen and wind up fearing seeing the same happen to everyone else I care about. Even if I know things have changed and that we’ve managed to last longer than the others, I also know that it’s easy to lose ourselves too. We’re at the mercy of this place. We can only do so much.”

Your eyebrows slightly raise and turn upward as your expression tenses.

“I’m sorry, Cyrus,” you tell him, your voice hushed. “I know I could never understand just how hard it is for you since I’m so new. But I’ve thought about it too. You aren’t alone.”

Cyrus opens his eyes. “Thought about what?”

“Dying. Impermanence.” You answer him straightforwardly. “It scares me too. I know this won’t last. But I don’t want to be miserable. I don’t want to give up. And I don’t want you to either.”

You reach over and put your hand over the back of Cyrus’, cupping it.

“I want us to be okay. I know things are hard. And it’s okay to be afraid.”

“I should be the one telling you that,” your companion lightly laughs, though he sounds a bit weary even with this gesture.

“You don’t have to be the leader all the time. Cyrus. You do enough as it is. You can afford to be the one getting guidance rather than giving it, you know.”

You look down.

“I’m worried about you. The last time you acted and spoke this way was when you were falling unconscious. But you’re saying all this even without the influence of the anesthetic.”

Cyrus widens his eyes slightly. “I said this before?”

“You mean you don’t remember?” This genuinely surprises you. “Then again, sometimes even I forget specific things that happen to me when I’m being put under. But you did sort of scare me. You spoke like you’d just given up. You acted like you had to let go. But I don’t want you to.”

Cyrus says nothing in response for a moment, though he turns his hand over and holds onto yours. He worms his fingers in between yours and clutches your hand tightly.

“I don’t want to either,” he assures you with a soft voice. “I can’t stop myself from letting these awful thoughts swarm my head, but I promise I have always done what I can to prevent them from progressing further. I don’t want them to beat me. I know the importance of staying afloat by any means necessary. I’ve told you this so many times, Ten.”

“It’s not just enough that you do that for yourself,” you respond to him firmly, unconvinced by his words. “You also have to let others help you. You have to learn to invite them in and stop thinking like you have to deal with everything yourself. Cyrus, you’re important to us all. So please let us do our part for you too.”

Cyrus shakes his head.

“Ten, you have to understand—I don’t want anyone to feel like I have,” he attempts to explain himself. “It hurts me when others have to find things out that only cause them pain. This place only brings us suffering. I don’t want anyone to suffer more than they already do.”

“I know you don’t. But you’re important too, you know,” you remind the young man with a meager attempt at a smile. “I won’t stop saying that it’s okay to take a rest sometimes. It’s not selfish.”

These statements make Cyrus pause again as he no doubt tries to think on what it is to say in response. His expression looks slightly tense in his focus, and he mindlessly tightens his grip on your hand without noticing right away. Eventually, he flickers his eyes toward the stage again.

“There’s a lot I wish I’d have done better,” he admits, crestfallen. “There’s a lot I wish I had done in general. For myself and others.”

You frown. “It’s not like there’s much we can do here. No matter what it is we might want to.”

Cyrus finally turns his head and looks over at you, his aqua eyes fixated on your face.

“What is it that you want, anyway?”

You’re the one to pause this time, taken aback by the sudden question. You’re not exactly sure how to answer when you’ve been so busy focusing on overcoming all your obstacles that you haven’t much had the time to focus on the things you want most. But a plain answer like “to get out of here” isn’t going to do much good. You’re not the only one who wants something like that. Really, most things you could want are likely simple things anyone would say they want. To feel grass beneath your feet, to see the sky, to experience seasons, to live a normal life again. All you know is the facility. Or rather, all you can really remember is everything that occurs within its cold, white walls.

“I’m…not sure,” you admit sheepishly, letting go of Cyrus’ hand to brush a loose bit of hair away from your cheek. “I haven’t really thought hard about what I want specifically. Other than freedom, which is obvious.”

You look down at the next bedded row and frown. “Maybe self-assurance? And to be cared for in a way that isn’t a thing like how my doctor does it. Genuine care. Kind of like how Three wants to be genuinely looked out for by someone who loves her.”

You then shake your head and second guess yourself. “No, that’s stupid. You all already care about me. I don’t know what I really mean. But I am slowly starting to figure out the kinds of things I want. I just don’t know fully yet.”

This makes Cyrus give a weak laugh, though it sounds almost like a breath.

“That’s alright,” he tries to be assuring. “I know it’s kind of a hard thing to think about.”

You raise a brow and look over at the young man, putting both hands back in your lap.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

You nod. “What exactly do you want? Or wish you’d have been able to do?”

Cyrus begins to rub the back of his neck nervously and shifts his eyes away.

“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “Maybe be more present for people, for starters. Had I been there for others more often, maybe I could have protected more of them.”

“Cyrus, you don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t,” the young man interrupts you, though his voice remains calm. “But you know how I am. The thing is, I wasn’t entirely like this back then. I cared, but I wasn’t as attentive. Not at all as forward or present as I could have been. If I’d been better…”

He doesn’t bother to finish this sentence either and trails it off like many others. Instead, he switches to something else.

“I guess I’d also have liked to be more open with people,” he admits, his voice low. “About how things made me feel. Watching the others die hurt me, but I forced myself to go it alone. Talking to Gale only did so much. It might have been better if I’d been honest with the others about what I knew rather than a doctor. But again, I don’t want to see others hurt like I do. It’s a gamble, but at least Gale knows how to handle this kind of thing.”

He sighs. “I made a lot of mistakes. Even now I still do. I’ve said it before, but I’m still learning. Not just learning the things that interest me, but how to balance myself. I’m still so flawed.”

You say nothing, but watch as the young man fights with himself while trying to talk about this with you. He hunches over slightly and leans on one elbow. With his other arm, he runs his hand through his hair roughly.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should have been open about what I knew,” he goes on. “And…Maybe I should have told Jade how I felt. Violet too. I could have prevented so much of her pain, I’m sure.”

You try to smile again and reach over to touch Cyrus’ knee.

“You have a big heart,” you tell him sweetly. “You care so much that it hurts more when things don’t go so well. Right?”

Cyrus nods just slightly after hesitating, but he seems too embarrassed to look at you while acknowledging your reading of him. He remains silent and lets you keep talking.

“It’s alright to be a little vulnerable like that,” you try to assure him. “I know you’re open about a lot, but it’s fine if you struggle with yourself. I feel embarrassed about my own flaws a lot of the time. And I guarantee some of the others have gotten fairly flustered when their emotional vulnerabilities show. You’ve seen how Violet and Eight react to being thanked for their kindnesses.”

“Well, you know me,” Cyrus slightly smiles to himself. “I don’t like making that stuff a big deal. I said before I learned not to for a lot of reasons. Eight says its defeatist, but I consider it caution.”

“I wouldn’t worry about what Eight says. You know how he is,” you laugh. “But not making it a big deal is very different from holding everything in.”

You nudge your friend and tease him,

“I guess It’s easier for you to talk about sex than it is love?”

Cyrus’ slightly widens his eyes as you say this. He finally straightens himself up and leans back against the bed, looking up at the awning in thought.

“I have no problems talking about either most times,” he says openly. “It’s talking about intimacy in general when I’m in one of these moods that really gets me. You know I don’t like disappointing people. So thinking on my grievances with people I love…it strikes a nerve with me.”

He closes his eyes then, and you move your hand back to your lap while you listen intently to the young man.

“I never really got to do anything with anyone I cared about because I hesitated to until it was too late to act,” he says, almost as if judging himself. “But I’ve also never really cared about anyone that way before. It’s not often that I do.”

Your eyes shift away. “Is…there any particular reason why?”

“No,” Cyrus says plainly, re-opening his eyes. “Do you have an attraction to everyone you meet?”

You slightly chuckle. “Right. I guess not. But some people might. Maybe it’s just because they have this want for attention or affection. I get the feeling Blue or even Violet is like that. I don’t mean anything by it, of course. Everyone’s just different.”

“A person like Blue is more fascinated by sex. Someone like Violet wants something along the lines of attention. You know, assurance and care,” your companion notes. He then glances over at you. “She’s not too unlike you, really. You did say you want to be cared for.”

You blush and grumble. “I did, huh…”

Having attention drawn to your blabbing only makes your embarrassment rise. So, you try to redirect the conversation.

“And what about you?”

Cyrus gives a bit of a “hm?” noise, and you try to elaborate your question. You turn your head finally to face the young man and ask again,

“What do you like?”

“I’m…not really sure,” Cyrus admits with a light laugh, almost as if in disbelief. “I’ve never really been asked. But I also don’t have much experience with attraction. Sex is easy because we do it so often. We’re forced to learn how to please the doctors and suit their interests. I’ve been here long enough to know what to do. But it’s the emotional side of things that can get a bit tricky.”

You laugh aloud and tease, “The great Cyrus crumbles under a little emotional pressure? I’m shocked.”

Your friend merely pouts slightly at your words, but you settle yourself down and give a light exhale. “Well, I get that. I don’t much know how to handle my own feelings half the time. You’ve seen how I get when I’m angry, when I’m sad, when I’m scared.”

You look down and frown. “I wish I had a better head on my shoulders. I don’t feel like I do half the time. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to cope with how I feel. I always thought you were the one who knew better. Even Nine too, with how resilient she’s been.”

“I’m no better than anyone here,” Cyrus admits openly, smiling subtly despite his solemn words. “And Nine probably isn’t perfect either. She still has her moments. She gets angry, sad, confused. Just like all of us. I’ve found that out more as I’ve talked to her more. Even I thought she was pretty stable. But we all have our weaknesses. Our flaws.”

He then glances over at you with his aqua eyes and turns his dark brows slightly upward. “She’s really opened up more than I ever expected her to. Mainly because of you.”

You blush. “I mean…I didn’t do anything. I doubt she did everything just for or because of me. It had to have been her too. Besides, being called a ‘catalyst’? That’s a lot of pressure, you know?”

Cyrus smiles. “Ten, you know I understand that pressure very well. So believe me when I say I get that.”

His eyes shift back to the stage before the both of you. “I know I’ve mentioned it already, but…Nine really trusts you. She likes you a lot.”

You watch his face a moment, but he doesn’t turn back to you this time. His expression is thoughtful, almost distant as he’s focused on the stage.

“Do you?” You cautiously ask him. You’re not exactly sure why it slipped out. Everyone had been constantly telling you Cyrus cared about you. Maybe now seemed like a good time to bring the subject up. You scorn yourself for being so forward about it, but figure you can’t help it now. Cyrus blinks a moment as if shaking himself back from a thought, but he continues to keep his eyes fixated before him. He almost seems hesitant to look your way this time.

“What do you mean?” He again questions in response. You frown, but turn away and mindlessly watch the stage with him.

“I mean…do you feel the same way she does?” You elaborate. “About me?”

Another long silence sets in between you both as Cyrus appears to freeze up in response to this question. He can’t seem to much gather his thoughts in a cohesive way, but you don’t much look his way to try reading his expression. You merely hang your head slightly and stare at your palms in your lap. Eventually, the young man is able to come up with an answer.

“You’re important to me.”

You close your eyes. Of course he’d struggle to really say anything too sentimental. He did just say he doesn’t like making it a big deal. Maybe you were stupid to push him about it, even if you didn’t actually mean to.

“Right…” you murmur. Though you keep your voice soft, you somehow can’t help but feel a strange disappointment welling inside of you. Still, you try to be kind for him. “I know. You’re important to me too, Cyrus. All of you are. And as long as you’re okay, I’ll be okay.”

You hear your friend shuffling lightly around a moment, but are taken aback when you feel the warmth of his lips upon your cheek. It’s brief, but surprises you enough to make you give a light gasp at the sensation and promptly open your eyes. Once it’s over, you bring a hand to where Cyrus kissed you and look over at him with bewilderment. You blush as you see the young man pulling back from you, but he doesn’t much look up. He merely stretches out one leg and bends the other up so that he can lean one arm on it.

“W-why did you do that?” You ask, still wildly blushing. Cyrus shakes his head, but still refuses to look up.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, almost muttering. “Sorry. I guess it was kind of stupid of me. You just looked like you needed some kind of…reassurance?”

“Of what?”

You gather Cyrus has no idea how to answer you based on his silence. Either that, or he doesn’t want to say. Why not, you wonder? Is he afraid of what might happen if he’s honest? He’d either hurt your feelings or validate them. Regardless of the outcome, you’d still care about him like anyone else. If only he understood that.

You drop your hand and shift your eyes away for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to him. You’d hate to make things worse for Cyrus by saying the wrong thing. You’re not even sure how this makes you feel. In part, you want to be grateful for this affection from your friend because you care about him. But then there’s your worry that getting too close will only hurt him. After all, he still seems to really be attached to Jade, even if he said it’s better he let go. Even if he’s come to accept he won’t see her again.

You aren’t sure how to proceed now. Maybe words aren’t really going to cut it. After fighting with yourself a moment, you notice your hands starting to tremble. Your heart’s fluttering relentlessly as you ponder the idea of reciprocating his kiss with one of your own. Is that the right thing to do? You’re confused. But you can’t just do nothing. No response will only leave him wondering, and you know just how frustrating that can be.

Even with your slightly trembling state, you decide to try making a move since Cyrus is opting to remain still. You do hesitate a moment, but try to lean in and reciprocate his kiss with one of your own, on his cheek. He doesn’t much react the way you did, but you see his brightly colored eyes slightly widening as you pull away.

Finally, he turns his head to you, but he doesn’t bother to ask anything. He doesn’t really have to because you can read the confusion plastered on his face. Despite the nervous uncertainty you feel, you still try to smile for him.

“You looked like you needed reassurance too,” you say. “I know it must be weird to do this kind of thing of your own volition. It’s strange for me too. And, if you really want, we don’t have to make it a big deal. Just consider it kindness. You don’t need to explain it.”

Cyrus pauses a moment, his lips parted as if to speak, but nothing escaping his mouth. Though, he tries to force himself to say something this time, not wanting to leave you hanging either.

“A kiss can mean a lot of things,” he opts to say. “I just wasn’t sure what to tell you. I wanted to show you that I care, I guess. I do love you.”

“…Love me how?”

Cyrus closes his eyes. “I don’t know yet. No more than you do about how you feel, anyway. So I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can answer that right now. I don’t think either of us are ready to hear it.”

He opens his eyes again, but keeps his gaze fixated forward. “But know that you do mean a lot to me, Ten. I just want you to be happy.”

You hold your arms then, gripping them tightly and practically squeezing your own body in a self-embrace. Even now, you continue to tremble, and you can’t understand why. You feel fluttering in your chest that just won’t stop. You have no idea what to tell Cyrus now, and so you decide to stay quiet. Without even having to look over, he seems to understand this. Rather than sit in silence, however, Cyrus opts to keep speaking.

“That night Mom coupled us together, I was so afraid of hurting you,” he says. “I remember being frustrated with her and myself, and worried for you. You have no idea how awful it felt to do what I did. Regardless of how my body responded. I just didn’t want to hurt you or damage our relationship. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. And…I wanted to take care of you.”

He sighs.

“More than anything, I wish I could protect you from the doctors. I wish I could do that for everyone. But realistically, it’s out of my hands. If they want something, I can only comply.”

You shake your head slightly. “You couldn’t hurt me. I know none of what happened then was because of you. Nothing bad that I’ve felt has been your fault. But look, you didn’t comply at first. You tried to stop it, even if just for a moment and just barely. It’s the only time I’ve ever heard you refuse Mom like that.”

“I didn’t like waking up with you beside me knowing why you did,” Cyrus says firmly, gripping the fabric of the bed beneath him. “Knowing who put you there and why. It’s one thing to hear about the awful things the doctors do to people I care about. It’s another to see it happen in front of me. I know I can’t do anything about it, but I hate it. I would especially hate for it to happen to anyone else. That’s why I’m glad you were willing to place importance on everyone being more careful about who sees them together.”

You frown hearing Cyrus speak this way. It’s not exactly pleasant to deal with his moments of upset, but the best you can do is be supportive of him and help him through this the way he’s always helped you. So, you try to remain positive.

“It didn’t turn out as bad as it could have been, at least,” you assure the young man. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather have been touched by you than a doctor. Even if it was that way. Besides, at least it didn’t last all that long. And we had time to talk about it afterward. We got pretty lucky on that.”

“I guess so,” Cyrus mutters with a tired exhale. He then flickers his eyes toward you, but doesn’t turn his head to try facing you directly. “I didn’t hate the idea of being with you, though. I just wish I hadn’t seen your face so fearful. I’d rather have made you feel good.”

Even amidst your fluttering, nervous state, you wind up smiling to yourself.

“I do feel good with you,” you tell Cyrus assuredly. “You watch out for me. Even when you don’t have to be responsible for me, you always make sure I’m okay. I’m grateful.”

Cyrus smiles slightly as you do, likely assuaged by your words. He doesn’t say anything right away and again hesitates as he ponders what to tell you. You’ve never seen him much struggle to speak to you as much as he has this entire time, but you remain patient with him. Eventually, he parts his lips and begins to talk again.

“Mom’s not here,” he says lowly. “She can’t hurt us right now.”

You turn toward the young man and slightly frown, but mostly remain puzzled. “Huh?”

Cyrus stops himself a moment as if again figuring out what to say to you, but he eventually and finally picks his head up and turns it toward you to face you directly. His expression remains soft this time. Gently and slowly, he raises his hand to you, palm up as if in offering.

“Do you…want to try again?”

Chapter 57: Visit Twenty Six - Touch

Your heart begins to quicken its pace despite your stomach still feeling fluttery and your hands still shaking. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you more firmly grasp the fact that Cyrus is inviting you to join your body with his. You’re so bewildered by the offer that you almost become dizzy, and you struggle to give an answer right away.

All you can get out is a stammering, “I-I..”

Seeing your flustered state doesn’t much upset the young man, but he does look down slightly while still smiling.

“You can say no,” he tells you calmly. “I just thought I’d ask because…”

Cyrus frowns as he trails off a moment. “…I don’t know.”

He genuinely seems confused by his own gesture now. You can’t much blame him. You’ve felt the same way about some of your own words and actions before. Still, you don’t want to say no to him. To try having a moment with him that isn’t under the pressure of a crazy doctor would be a blessing after what you’ve been through. You’ve had a moment with Lav already. It may have been awkward and indecisive then, but you at least had that moment on your own terms. But with Cyrus, it was never really the same way. He’d tried to be kind to you back then, but the situation didn’t allow either of you to take time with things. You hadn’t gotten the chance to see how being with him really made you feel.

Thinking of Lav again only hurts you now. You know she’s said time and time again that you can do as you like. Even Cyrus seems openly accepting of your being with her. But of course you can’t shake the fear of hurting either of them. Even if neither of them could ever be as frustrated by rejection as Violet was, you just don’t want to shoulder the responsibility of causing either of them to feel pain from it.

The responsible thing now would be to say no.

“…What about Violet?” Is what you’re able to muster after a brief, blushing silence. “And Nine?”

Cyrus shakes his head. “They don’t have to know.”

He then widens his eyes and stops himself, looking up at you again as he realizes how his words might have sounded. “Don’t think I’m trying to be insistent or anything. I just wanted to put your mind at ease. I know you worry.”

Quietly, you watch as his offered hand falls back to the bed while he keeps talking. “Like I said, we don’t need to do it. I just wanted to give you the option. I don’t mean to give you any mixed signals.”

He frowns.

“Especially after I just said I don’t know how I feel. I’m stupid, I know.”

After pausing a moment, you gently laugh while expelling air through your nose. “Cyrus, why is it easier for you to bring up sex than it is romance? You’re so strange.”

Cyrus looks away and slightly pouts at your observation. “Look, I have no idea. I guess it comes with the territory. Besides, you’re not any better at it either, are you?”

“Hey!” You cry out in playful offense. “I’m trying my best, you know!”

Your companion gives a light chuckle and quickly apologizes.

“I know, I know. It’s hard. But didn’t you already have practice with this before?”

You lower a brow. “You mean with Nine?”

“Well, yeah.”

You shrug your shoulders at this assumption. Cyrus doesn’t much seem to get what happened between you and Lav; that you didn’t really get to go very far with her. You wonder why it is he’s assuming things so much. You certainly hope it isn’t any indication of something anywhere near the realm of jealousy. Cyrus isn’t the jealous type, is he? Is Lav?

“Um…I don’t really know,” you speak up, looking back at the stage as you ponder this. Is it worth talking to him about this when Cyrus just asked you for a moment with him? Will he get upset? He is the one who brought it up, but does that mean he really wants to hear it? You aren’t sure how to proceed. But you’d rather not leave your companion hanging.

“If you mean what happened recently, it wasn’t anything like what you think at all,” you finally try to clarify. “It was just a small moment that we didn’t get to have for very long. The first time we did anything, I was so uncertain about all of this and about myself. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know how to feel.

“This time around I had a tiny idea of what I wanted. This time I opened up more to her. For the first time, I was kind of figuring out how to do this sort of thing normally. Even with her I was nervous and confused. But I knew I wanted to try.”

You then look over at Cyrus worriedly, frowning and turning your eyebrows slightly upward.

“Do you even really want to hear all this? After you just asked me what you did and all…”

Cyrus gives a soft, assuring smile.

“I don’t mind,” he promises you. “It’s not very hard for me to talk about that sort of thing. Plus, I like Nine, and I trust her to be good to you. I wouldn’t think less of you for fooling around with the others either. Even if I could bring myself to be upset, it’s kind of pointless to be demanding about purity in a place like this. We’re all a little tainted if you want to think of it that way.”

“Oh…” You respond unhappily. “So, like damaged goods.”

Cyrus lightly frowns. “Not at all. You know what I mean, Ten. The point is that I’m not going to be possessive with you. I want you to do what you want. Whatever feels right for you. No matter with who. Besides, it’s not like what’s happening right now has to be meaningful if you really don’t want it to be. But it might be nice to get away from the emotional stresses we’ve been facing today. It’d be nice to have someone to rely on for a little while.”

You look down at your feet mindlessly as you think on this. You know Cyrus is well-meaning. He’s an overall sweet person who’s been nothing but patient with and understanding of you. He probably knows you do care about him enough not to want to hurt him purposefully.

Despite your hesitance, you do want to be open. Even if neither of you are at a point in time where you can openly say how you feel, it’s not as if there isn’t something there. You care about him too, but you’re in no headspace for a genuine romantic relationship. You’re not emotionally prepared for that kind of responsibility, and you don’t wholly understand yourself yet. If there’s anything you’ve learned, it’s that you have to know who you are before you lend yourself to this kind of thing. You’ll have to wait a while to understand how you feel.

The same can be said of any kind of relationship with Lav. You love her to bits the more you have the chance to think on it, but you aren’t ready for that sort of commitment. Fooling around or testing the waters is enough. Maybe sex is easier than love for someone like Cyrus only because he’s used to mindlessly pleasing the other doctors. In a way, you get that. Even for as nervous as you are, it’s the idea of laying with the young man that’s easiest to swallow. The hardest thing is the emotional intimacy, the closeness.

You’re honestly surprised how much easier it’s gotten to do this kind of thing. Is this accepted in the real world? Would you be scrutinized for it? Maybe it hardly matters. But if there’s any chance you have to enjoy sex in a way that isn’t for anyone’s pleasure but yours, any chance you have to share your body with someone you care about rather than someone you hate…well…it’d be a lie to say you don’t at least want to try.

You’re still fairly nervous at opening yourself this way for someone close to you. It was awkward as hell the first time you did it, but you can’t say it felt bad. Even if you’ve grown, you’re still shy. But you certainly have a better idea of what it is you might want now. That’s still something you need to work on, sure. But you’re doing much better than before.

Feeling bad about doing this is something you can’t entirely shake. You’d promised Lav you and her could try again some other time, yet you ended up sharing that moment with Cyrus instead. You’d still like to try with her, of course. You hope she can forgive you for willing yourself to do this with him. She’s said she doesn’t mind, but if Cyrus’ observations of her are true, then evidently she does care a lot more about you than you expected. Perhaps even to the same level that he does. You always figured as much, but for even him to notice it…

“Ten?”

Cyrus’ worried voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you realize you’d started to space out. You finally look over at the young man beside you. Even in your still-nervous state, you try to speak up.

“Give me your hand again,” you bid your companion. This seems to take him aback, as he looks warily at you for a moment before slowly doing as asked. You look down at his palm a moment as you make your last attempt at contemplating this decision to accept Cyrus’ offer. Giving a bit of a sigh, you eventually swallow your worries and reach over. You gently take Cyrus’ hand in yours and curl your fingers around his palm, much to your friend’s light surprise. He glances down at the back of your hand in awe, but does not yet bother to speak.

You firm your grip on his hand and blush.

“I’d like to try again too,” you finally give an answer to his earlier request. “If you still want to.”

Your partner briefly pauses, but does smile gently for you in response as if to accept this. He does, however, frown when he focuses on your touch.

“You’re shaking.”

You roll your eyes around nervously. “Um…yeah…I do that. Sorry. I’m not used to this. I told Nine before that consensual stuff is weird for me.”

Cyrus softly laughs. “It’s okay. Don’t be nervous. Just stay calm for me. I’ll help you out.”

He then drops his hand from yours and begins to turn his body toward you, sitting cross-legged. Once he’s gotten into his position, he leans his elbows on his knees and brings both palms up.

“Turn and face me, okay?” He guides you. “And take both my hands.”

You look at him with slight confusion, but eventually do what he’s told you and position yourself opposite to him, crossing your legs as well. Once ready, you bring your shaking hands to his and let him hold them gently.

“Sit up straight,” Cyrus tells you next, his voice soft and low. “Like you’re going to meditate.”

When you do this, your companion does the same while still holding both your hands in his. You blush as you feel his warmth against your palms.

“What now?”

“Just breathe,” your partner instructs you gently. “Focus on your breath, and on the feeling of my touch. It’s important that you’re relaxed and comfortable for this. You don’t want any negative thoughts in your head now. No fears nor excessive doubts. So, just breathe in for me, okay?”

You subtly nod and try to take a deep breath in. You end up holding it for a moment since you’re not sure if he means for you to do so, but end up taking long enough for Cyrus to see you struggling and your face turning very red. He laughs at you slightly,

“You can breathe out,” he says, prompting you to expel a huge burst of air through your mouth and promptly suck more in while gasping.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, almost muttering in your embarrassment. Cyrus gently squeezes your hands in assurance.

“It’s alright,” he promises you. “Just breathe in and out like normal. Focus on nothing but us right now.”

You again nod and try to straighten yourself up once more. Again, you breathe slowly, drawing breath in and out while closing your eyes. After a while of this, you open them only to see Cyrus staring straight back at you. This only makes you feel awkward, and you wind up expelling your breath suddenly.

“You don’t have to stare at me like that!” You remark with embarrassment, your face still utterly red.

“Why is it bothering you so much all of a sudden?” Cyrus asks, still calm. “If you want to stop-“

“No, I just…” You grumble. “I’m weird, sorry. Intimacy is weird. I’ll get over it in a bit. It’s becoming a habit to get flustered over it and I don’t know why.”

Cyrus smiles at you and squeezes your hands again. “It’s fine to be intimidated. You’re not used to being able to do what you like with who you like. But I promise, I’ll be careful with you. Okay? I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Y-yeah,” you agree. “I know. I trust you.”

You again try to breathe for Cyrus, closing your eyes and attempting to concentrate. The warmth of your companion’s touch in your hands is soothing. And, as strange as it is to say it, you can vividly picture him before you even with the dark veil over your eyes. You feel safe with him. And the longer you sit like this, the easier it is to focus only on Cyrus.

It’s not really clear how long you sit there with him, but it doesn’t much matter to you. The sensation of his warmth in your hands and the calm quiet does enough to assuage you a bit. Eventually, you slowly re-open your eyes and finally let your hands drop from Cyrus’. When it’s over, you turn one of your palms up to examine it.

“They’re not shaking anymore,” you observe. “…So what now?”

“You tell me,” Cyrus answers calmly, returning his hands to his lap, cupping one in the other. “Do you want to lay down or stay like this? It’s best we do what feels natural.”

You blush. You’re still not sure how to really do this kind of thing. Is normal sex this awkward? Hell, you haven’t even gotten to the meat of the act and you still feel like you’re doing this wrong.

“I…wouldn’t mind laying down a bit,” you finally decide. “Just don’t get on top of me yet! I’m still sort of swallowing this.”

“That’s fine.” Cyrus indulges you. Gently, he holds one of your hands again and guides you back down along the flat part of the bed, promptly joining your side once you’re fully lying down. There’s just enough room for him to join you. Granted, laying the other way on the bed would be easier, but with the angled mattresses, it’s not possible to lay perfectly flat.

You aren’t much sure what to do, but the both of you turn to face one another while laying down, shifting to your sides to do so. As you feel Cyrus’ body pressing against yours, you wind up gripping the fabric of his shirt over his chest tightly. You aren’t entirely sure why. When you hear Cyrus ask if you’re alright in his worry toward this gesture, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Just hold me for a bit, if that’s okay,” you eventually request, looking up at the young man’s aqua eyes. “Please? I think I just need a minute to get used to this.”

“Don’t forget to keep breathing too,” Cyrus tells you lowly. “Focus on your body and how it feels. When you’re ready, you can focus on mine and how it makes you feel. Alright?”

You pause a moment to try understanding what this means. Focus on how your body feels? It’s just a body. It is yours, but you don’t know how to really “feel” it. If anything, you’re still a bit nervous. You just want to feel comfortable with what’s going on before anything else happens. You do try to take this seriously, though, for as little as you fully understand it. You want to understand yourself like Cyrus urged you to. You’d hate to be hesitant the entire time.

Eventually, you do let out a quick “Okay,” which prompts your partner to pull you in closer to him. You blush as Cyrus’ arm wraps around you. Very distinctly, you can feel the warmth of his body against yours, even more aware of it than before. His flesh, his clothes, his scent—all of it is wrapping around you sweetly as you’re held.

Despite the earlier hesitance, you do finally lay your head on Cyrus’ chest and close your eyes. The both of you lay together in silence for a while, and the quiet allows you to hear the steady, rhythmic ba-dum, ba-dum of Cyrus’ heart. You wind up turning your head to put your ear over his chest and lightly smile.

“I can hear your heart beating,” you tell him softly, your grip on his shirt loosening slightly as you relax more. “It’s gentler than I expected.”

“It’s because I’m relaxed,” you’re told. Cyrus’ voice resonates through his body, and you can hear it so clearly from where you are. It’s strange, but nice. “I’m comfortable like this. With you.”

“Is this…part of it?” You ask, still leaning against the young man’s warm chest. “Is this normal?”

“Yes,” is the murmuring reply you get. “It’s different for everyone. Some people like to get right into the raunchier acts, others prefer to take things slow. It’s all about knowing what you prefer and finding what works for you. It can be intimate, or it can be purely sexual. It can even be both or something else entirely. There’s a lot of ways to do it.”

You feel Cyrus’ arm drop to your waist as he holds you that way. Strangely, you’re okay with him doing this and merely continue to enjoy the warmth of your partner’s body.

“Think of how relationships work,” he tells you, murmuring. “There’s a lot of different types of attraction. Different preferences. Different kinds of love. The same can be said of sex and how many ways there are to do it. What’s important is being open with your partner, or partners. And if you’re doing it by yourself, it’s important to be in a good headspace. Know what it is you want and how you want to feel.”

You blush lightly in embarrassment. “And if it’s awkward?”

Cyrus chuckles gently. “That’s normal too. It’s not always perfect. Sometimes you get lucky. But it’s okay to feel weird or awkward, as long as you communicate with the other person how you’re feeling. You work off of one another. Whether it’s someone you want to have a fling with, or someone you genuinely love. You have to understand your physical needs and wants, and be willing to understand the other person’s or people’s.”

You look up then, into Cyrus’ eyes.

“How do you know so much? If you’re not even sure yourself?”

He reciprocates your gaze with a warm one of his own. As he speaks, he keeps his voice gentle and low for you.

“I’ve read a lot about this stuff,” he admits, though you already sort of figured based on what Lav had told you before. “Being cooped up here for so long, you wind up wanting to understand this better. What the doctors do is unhealthy. It drastically warps how we view relationships, sex, and romance. I’m sure you know.”

You nod slightly, but let your companion continue speaking.

“It’s not that their surface idea of sex is wrong. It’s perfectly fine to jump right into the kinkier stuff if that’s what you like. But with how adamant they are on using us, we don’t get much of a chance to explore our options otherwise. We don’t know what it’s like to do things like this. Like what you and I are doing now. Sometimes we’re left so tired of all the rougher stuff that we just want to be held.”

You look away when he says this, realizing his description fits how you feel and what you asked for. However, you feel his other hand reach up to touch your cheek and gently guide you back to look at him. He smiles.

“Listen, don’t be embarrassed to want things,” he bids you. “It’s better that you’re honest about what you want. Even if you change your mind later.”

You part your lips slightly as you stare at him.

“Do you want to be held too?”

Cyrus’ eyes shift away a moment as he thinks on what to say, and he slowly drops his hand from you. However, he eventually looks back at you and gives a gentle “yes”, affirming this desire of his. It makes you happy knowing that he’s as touch starved as anyone else here. He’s not someone who should be put on a pedestal. He is just like any of you. Even knowing what he knows, being as experienced at many things as he is. He’s just like you.

Still looking into his bright eyes, you slowly shift one hand from his chest and move it up to his cheek, cupping it gently as you feel his flesh and his warmth. Your fingers sweetly trail along his face as you move your hand slowly down its side, almost as if examining him by touch. When your fingers reach his nape, you let your hand linger there.

“I know this might sound really weird,” you speak, keeping your voice at a murmuring level, “but you have beautiful eyes. I’m…not used to making eye contact this long.”

However, you do look down slightly as you say this, embarrassed. “Sorry, is that strange?”

“It’s not weird at all to give compliments,” Cyrus assures you. “They’re nice.”

He then leans in to give your lips a quick kiss. As he pulls away, he laughs softly.

“You have a beautiful smile. I wish I could see you do it more often.”

Your eyes slightly widen hearing this, and your cheeks continue to stay ever red. Hearing an endearing compliment from someone who cares about you is strange, but comforting. You feel as if this is his way of saying he wants you to be happy and feel wanted without having to explicitly say it again. Coupled with the feeling of his lips on yours just a moment ago, your body is light. You’re even a little bit dizzy all of a sudden. If Cyrus wasn’t holding onto you, you just might float away.

Enraptured by his kindness, his warmth, and his love, you find yourself bringing both arms around his neck and holding him tightly, burying your head into his chest all the while. In response, your partner moves his free arm under you so that he can wrap it around your back and place his hand on the back of your head. He holds you ever closer the tighter you hold him. The both of you remain intertwined this way, enjoying each other’s warmth for a while.

“Cyrus?” You call out lowly, shifting your head to the side and leaning your ear against Cyrus’ chest again so that your voice can be heard.

“Hm?”

“What is it that you prefer in this case?” You ask him, wanting to understand how to make him feel happy and good. “When you do this?”

“I admit I kind of like what we’re doing now,” he murmurs. “Taking things slowly, being more intimate. It’s…nice.”

“What about the heavier stuff?”

“I don’t mind it at all,” is the response your partner gives. “I’d be willing to be more forward and openly sexual if my partner wanted it. It would feel good to know I was making them feel good, that’s all.”

He pauses a moment and curls his fingers around the curvature of the back of your head, softly worming his digits into your hair.

“Do you feel good right now?” He asks.

You smile to yourself at the question. He’s trying his best to make you happy, and you think it’s endearing. You’re glad for it.

“I do,” you assure him. “I really needed this. I’m happy to be here with you.”

“Do you prefer anything yourself?”

You aren’t entirely sure how to answer this question. Sex itself feels good. It’s because you’ve only ever had it with doctors that you’ve struggled to be openly sexual at all. You’ve never been quite as upfront about your sexual interests as Blue or Lav. Do you want to be more forward? Do you want to take your time? You do like being held now. But maybe you also like the stimulation too. You’ve always responded eagerly to it. Even with Lav, you felt really good being touched that way.

“I think I like both ways,” you finally admit. “I like being held, but I like being touched too.”

You close your eyes for a moment. “When you were with me that day, it felt good. I wouldn’t mind doing that again, but we don’t have to do it right away. Or at all if you like this better.”

Cyrus pulls slightly away from you, and the motion causes you to open your eyes once more. Your partner looks at your face with a slight frown.

“If that’s what you want, I don’t mind doing it that way,” he tells you. “I do want both of us to feel good. Together. So, is that what you want?”

“I…” you grumble. This question is a bit embarrassing to hear, but Cyrus won’t do anything unless you’re absolutely certain you want it, you’re sure. You do want to be touched, but you don’t know what to ask for. You’re not much in the mood for anything too out-there right now. Something simple sounds good right now.

“We could transition into…that…if you don’t mind.” You give a vague request. “I still wanna take it a bit slow, though.”

You look up at Cyrus for a moment, trying to figure out what you can do to start things off. You’ve never had to do this yourself before. You’re used to just lying there and being used, or letting others touch you because you were never sure what to do or what you wanted. Still, you want Cyrus to feel good too. Beloved, even. Evidently he needs this kind of affection as much as you do. He seems genuinely happy, even excited, to be like this with someone. Someone who won’t hurt him, who wants to understand him.

Still looking into his eyes, you move a hand to the back of his head and begin to run your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, you find. While you touch him this way, you decide to try leaning in for a kiss. You close your eyes and press your lips against your partner’s, trying to be gentle and sweet for him. You don’t linger, but rather pull away and look back at Cyrus curiously.

“Is that okay?” You ask, trying to be sure you’re not overstepping bounds. Cyrus merely smiles and gives a gentle “yeah”. With his approval, you decide to keep kissing him and wind up leaning back in with another closing of your eyes. The both of you lock lips a moment, working one another slowly. Periodically one of you pulls away just slightly to readjust your head, but otherwise you both stay pressed sweetly together.

Cyrus is careful with you, you notice. He seems not to want to overstep his bounds by using his tongue, but you eventually invite him to do so by working yours gently into the kiss. When he realizes what you’re doing, he reciprocates your gesture and lets the kiss transition into something a little more sensual.

Your body feels utterly warm as you and Cyrus lock lips. You feel held and safe for the first time in a long while. You don’t have as many reservations about being with him as you might have before you started, and it’s becoming easier to accept the young man’s touch. You still feel a bit sheepish, but far more comfortable with him now.

Eventually, you both pull away and breathe in heavily together. You hadn’t realized how long you were at it, but the respite and the heaving breaths only make you more aware. You feel Cyrus’ chest rise and fall with every bit of air he takes in and expels. It feels nice against your own chest. Every bit of his heartbeat, every breath…you feel it so closely.

Looking still into his eyes now, you eventually tell him,

“I think I wanna lay back now.”

Cyrus gives a light nod, and gently he lets you go and helps guide you on your back. You suppose you should try being the one on top sometime, but right now, you just want to be guided. Even if you’re in control and have the chance to say what you want and don’t want, it’s a bit of a habit for you to be this way. Still, with Cyrus, you know you’re safe to do anything.

You place one hand on Cyrus’ shoulder, and let the other rest against the mattress, palm up and up by your head. Cyrus, meanwhile, turns himself over. He doesn’t yet climb atop you, but rather stays by your side and steadies his torso over yours, pressing one hand into the bed and placing the other upon your cheek to cup it gently.

“Do you mind if I touch you?” He asks. “And get to know your body a little?”

You’re not sure what he means by this, but do give him a nod. It’s only when he starts to trail his hand along your cheek and down your neck that you realize he means genuinely just touch you—your skin, your body parts, your warmth. Everything. Admittedly, you feel warm with every trailing of his fingers along your flesh. He goes gently down your shoulder and stops when he reaches the upper portion of your chest.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “You can touch there too.”

Cyrus smiles gently at you and gives a light nod before continuing his exploration of your body. He rounds the curvature of your breasts as he keeps caressing you, trailing the thin cloth on your body sweetly. He doesn’t grab your breasts at all, but rather continues to feel your body lightly with his fingertips and, occasionally, his palm. You blush feeling him brush against you like this, but allow it nonetheless.

Eventually, he moves downward, but you immediately flinch and stop him. Quickly, you raise your hand from the bed and move it down to grab your partner’s wrist.

“W-wait,” you bid him. Immediately, Cyrus pulls his fingers away and looks at you worriedly.

“What’s wrong?”

You shift your gaze away and frown. “I want to set a few boundaries.”

Your partner listens intently to you, keeping his eyes fixated on you as he lets you continue speaking.

“Please don’t touch my stomach,” you request. “I have a few reservations about it for a lot of reasons. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep our clothes on. I know we’ve seen each other naked already, and I want to say I’d be willing to undress for you after a bit more of this. But I’m still a bit afraid that someone might walk in, and I want it to be easy to hide what we’re doing if we have to.”

“Are you ashamed?”

You subtly shake your head. “No. A little embarrassed, but I’m enjoying this. Really. I just want to be careful.”

After making your request, you look back at Cyrus intently. “Is that alright?”

He merely smiles and gives a nod.

“Sure,” he says. “If that’s what will make you comfortable. I’ll be mindful of it.”

Hearing this, you release Cyrus’ wrist and bring your hand back to its original position on the bed. In turn, Cyrus leans in for a moment and gives your cheek a quick kiss before continuing to touch you, figuring it’s an easy transition back into your play. Although, you’re still hard-pressed to say this is all part of a sexual experience.

You’re so used to just going at it that it’s strange to take your time like this. But, all things considered, you truly love it. It feels good. Your body has responded eagerly to doctors doing this sort of thing to you whether or not you were enjoying it mentally, but with someone you’re close to, it feels so much different. It’s not just your body, but your heart and mind that respond positively to this touch. You feel loved.

You watch Cyrus’ face as he gently continues to touch you, again trailing his fingers down your body starting from your neck, as if he lost his place and had to start over. Though, you doubt he’s the least bit bothered by having to start over at all. His eyes seem to sweetly scan you with every caress of your flesh and the cloth over it. He doesn’t fixate on your face as he glides his hands down, though this allows you to focus on the feeling of his warmth along your body.

As requested, he does avoid touching your stomach. You’re glad that he’s willing to listen to you. It’s not often that you get the chance to have what you want. Even when you were with Jonathan, you had too many reservations about making requests because you knew he was a doctor and that his attempt at letting you have your way was a mere thin veil. In the end, he would have done what he liked with you anyway. This, however, is purely up to you. But you don’t want it to be just your decision. You have a reason to be a little more active. To try.

Wanting to touch your partner as well, you bring both your hands to Cyrus’ chest and feel his body, caressing his warmth and giving him the assurance of comfort and love that he likely needs as much as you do. Cyrus seems a bit surprised by your decision to touch him willingly. He pauses the trailing of his fingers just a moment to glance at you with his bright eyes, his lips slightly parted in a subtle bewilderment. However, he says nothing and merely smiles when he sees you’re trying to be a part of this too.

Both of you continue to caress one another, slowly getting to know each other’s bodies. It is admittedly still strange to do this when it’s not something you’re accustomed to, but it simultaneously feels like the right thing to do.

Suddenly, Cyrus leans in to start kissing you again, and you allow this while reciprocating his gesture. The both of you remain liplocked as you continue to feel one another. You try to stick to Cyrus’ upper body since you’re a bit too shy to go lower, but do take your time with it nonetheless. However, you don’t much mind it when you feel Cyrus’ gentle touch go a bit lower on your own body. He does pause a moment as if to gauge your reaction, but you try to let him know with your kisses that you accept this.

For the most part, you keep your eyes closed and focus on both your partner’s kisses and his warm touch while simultaneously giving him your affection in return. You’re able to tell by the heavier breaths he expels through his nose that he’s enjoying the feeling of your caresses. You were right to presume he needed, and perhaps wanted, this.

Eventually, you feel him stroking your thighs, and you wind up letting a light, subtle moan slip through your throat and out your mouth when Cyrus pulls back to shift the position of his head. Immediately, you blush and apologize for the noise, but your partner hovers his face over yours a moment and slightly laughs.

“It’s alright,” he tries to be assuring, his voice soft. “If you want to make noises, you can. It’s a good way for me to gauge how you’re feeling about whatever I do.”

“You held back last time, didn’t you?”

Cyrus’ eyes drift to the side, though he does smile a little. “I did. I didn’t want to give Mom the satisfaction. Not that time.”

You curl your fingers into Cyrus’ shirt sheepishly. “Are you…loud?”

The young man hovering over you blinks and looks back at you with light surprise. “I don’t think so? But I will probably make a little noise and breathe a lot. Is that too weird for you?”

“No, but what about the others?” You express your worries, looking at Cyrus intently. “I don’t want them to hear either of us like this.”

Cyrus shakes his head slightly. “If they’re in the crafts room, they won’t. It’ll be alright.”

He then brings a hand back up to your cheek and cups it gently. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed, but you can hold back if you really want to. Okay? Whatever feels best for you.”

You blush feeling his touch there, and end up bringing your hand over his and leaning into him.

“I want to be open,” you tell him honestly. “But it’s still weird for me, that’s all. I’ll find my way.”

With a light nod, your partner again moves in to kiss you. He drops his hand from your face and goes back to stroking your thighs, starting from the outer side, and moving inward. As he brings his hand closer to your crotch, you can’t help but moan lightly again into Cyrus’ mouth at the titillating sensation.

Eventually, you feel the young man’s hand stop touching you, and he again pulls away from your lips to look at you a moment. You’re blushing exponentially more than before now, lightly sucking breath in through your mouth to recover from your long bout of kissing. Your chest rises and falls heavily, and your heart begins to quicken its beating as your body starts to want to feel more of Cyrus’ touch.

Gauging your positive reaction to him, the young man slowly brings his hand to the hem of your gown and lifts it. You allow this, keeping your hands steady upon his shoulders while he keeps his aqua eyes fixated on you. Without him having to ask, you give a nod to indicate you’re okay with being touched there when you see Cyrus’ questioning gaze. With your silent say-so, he brings a few fingers to where your clit is from over your panties.

Cyrus gently circles and rubs the thing, stimulating you sweetly and slowly. He watches as your eyes slowly close at being touched this way, and concentrates on helping your pleasure rise incrementally.

“Is this alright?” He murmurs his question. Still heaving a breath, all you can do is again subtly nod. You curl your fingers and grip Cyrus’ shirt somewhat tighter now as you’re touched. Again, you become self-aware of the fact that you’re being pleasured by someone who wants to take care of you, and this relaxes and arouses you even more. You don’t have to feel guilty with Cyrus. You don’t have to hold back. You shouldn’t.

Cyrus fingers move along your slit as well, and he goes through a series of gentle movements from there and back to your clit for a while before eventually moving his hand up to enter your panties. Again, he pauses to watch you closely, but you’re already melting in his touch of you there. You’re moaning a bit more copiously now, but not quite so loud just yet. Your noises remain subtle, but are indicative of the pleasure you feel from being touched how you are.

Seeing that you’re enjoying this, your partner finally moves his bare flesh against yours, and you lightly gasp feeling his warmth trailing along your vulva. Despite wanting to reciprocate Cyrus’ gaze, you keep your eyes closed and enjoy the feeling of his fingers upon you. Your head tilts upward as you’re caressed, your neck exposed fully to the young man above you as you relish his touch. You don’t much see Cyrus’ face as he does what he’s doing, but can still sense him hovering over you, watching you closely. Perhaps before this would have bothered you, but right now, you feel comfortable with it.

Cyrus’ fingers playfully and sweetly trail up and down your slit, and after a while of teasing you, he again touches your clit and begins to toy with it. Somehow feeling his bare flesh there rather than from behind your panties excites you even more, and you let out a light gasping breath.

You tighten your grip on Cyrus’ shirt even more as you feel him touch you, your legs slightly trembling as your arousal grows. You want him to go further already, but are willing to take your time for him. Regardless, you just want to be here.

After a while of playing with your clit, Cyrus moves two fingers closer to your vagina and teases its entrance, as if asking for permission to enter you. Feeling this makes you shiver anticipantly, though you do open your eyes slightly and look at your partner with eagerness.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, your voice low and soft. “You can put them in.”

Cyrus smiles gently and leans in again to give you a quick kiss on the lips. The moment he pulls away, you feel his fingers press into your pussy. The sudden warmth of his digits entering you causes you to gasp again, and you wind up closing your eyes once more as you’re pleasured. You hadn’t really realized you were already a little wet from all the caressing and kissing you did, but feeling Cyrus’ fingers worming their way into your body without much issue now only makes you more aware of it. You’re slippery, but the young man teasing your pussy sweetly doesn’t much seem to mind it.

Cyrus continues to massage and circle your clit with his thumb while his fingers work your insides, He goes fairly slowly, taking his sweet time and sliding against your flesh carefully. Somehow, the gentler speed doesn’t bother you despite how used to rapid fingering you’ve become. In fact, the long buildup you’ve had with Cyrus, getting to know his body, and feeling his warmth fully, has left you even more excited and aroused than the immediate action you’ve accustomed yourself to normally would.

Your legs continue to tremble as your pleasure slowly climbs. Cyrus brings his fingers in and out of you ever so sweetly, keeping an eye on your face and focusing on your labored breaths as you guiltlessly enjoy yourself. You feel him lean into your ear, and his breath hits your neck and head.

“Does that feel good?” He asks with a gentle, endearing tone. Although you’re sure he meant this as a genuine question, you can’t help but be titillated by the way it’s spoken in your ear. So wrapped up in how good it feels to be fingered by him, you can’t bring yourself to speak aloud. Instead, you give a light moan and a nod.

Your partner continues to toy with your pussy, gliding his fingers in and out, in and out ever so slowly and sweetly. When you again tighten your grip on Cyrus’ shirt, he lightly chuckles, though it comes out a bit more breathy than usual.

“You keep clutching it like that and it’ll rip off,” he teases you.

“S-sorry,” you forcibly muster an apology and lessen your grip slightly. Your words dissipate into another long moan as Cyrus pushes his fingers into you yet again and curls them inside of you. “…Oh…”

Seeing your flustered state makes Cyrus laugh gently again, and he decides to change his rhythm. Rather than push in and out steadily, he adds a few extra wriggling movements to his fingering motion, and continues to periodically curl both fingers inside of you to stimulate your g-spot. This makes you gasp and squeak in response. You’re taken by surprise by the motion, but still wind up enjoying it.

Not wanting to grip too tightly against the young man’s shirt, you drop your hands and grip the sheets on the bed instead.

“G-go faster,” you breathily beg, your heartbeat quickening and your face becoming hot and red. Granting your request, Cyrus quickens the pace of his fingers. He somehow manages to still be tender with you while going at a reasonable pace. You wind up turning your head to the side in your enjoyment of the sensation, leaving you open for Cyrus to kiss your neck to stimulate you further. He does so gently and warmly, sucking upon your flesh just lightly with each kiss and going slowly. It feels unbearably good, and you wind up breathing even heavier as you gasp and whimper at your partner’s working of you.

“I can’t take it…” You breathe, bringing one hand to the back of Cyrus’ head and holding him close to you as he continues working your neck with his mouth. He seems to know just what to do with you, and you can’t bear how good it feels. He’s giving you just what you want, listening to you and paying attention to everything you need. You’re already this flustered and blissful, and he hasn’t even penetrated you himself yet. His gentle care of you, his darling affection, his treating you like a person and not an object…It’s been a while since you’ve fully gotten to feel anything like this.

“Are you going to come?” Cyrus questions in a murmuring, sweet tone, almost whispering as he pulls away from your neck just slightly. Your fingers curl against his scalp as you grip him firmly in response. Both his words and the vibration of his gentle voice against your flesh again titillate you.

“I…” You moan, unable to produce the words. However, Cyrus is able to gather what you meant to say, and he continues with the thrusting pace of his fingers so that he can guide you to orgasm. Your body tightens around his digits as you reach your peak, and you wind up letting out a long, loud moan as you start to come. Your fingers tighten around the fabric of the bed beneath you and against Cyrus’ hair as he continues to push in and out of your pussy. Even as you come, he refuses to let up, wanting to make sure you feel as good as possible.

You let out a series of loud gasps and cries as you come. Although the worry of being caught like this still lingers in the back of your mind, you do want to express your pleasure to your partner. In return, he continues to sweetly kiss your neck while you come, sucking slowly at your skin while you roll your hips to hump against the young man’s warm fingers.

The pleasure you feel is strangely more gratifying this time. You aren’t able to tell if it’s because of the slow buildup, or if it’s because you’re with someone you don’t at all dislike. Either way, this feels blissful, and you want more.

Eventually, your body settles down. When everything ends, you drop your hand back down to the bed from Cyrus’ head, and your palms unfurl. Your chest rises and falls sharply as you suck in breath, and you close your eyes while attempting to recover yourself in preparation for more activity. Cyrus finally pulls fully away from your neck to hover over you like before, and you turn to again face up. Resting against the mattress.

Cyrus watches you as he slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, with your juices lightly trailing from it as he does so. You subtly whimper in response to the retraction, but otherwise remain still with your eyes closed.

“Are you alright?”

Cyrus’ voice shakes you from your peaceful respite, and you open your eyes to look at him. Now that you’re able to think and speak clearly again, you smile slightly and give a light nod.

“It felt good,” you assure him. “But, um…”

You end up trailing off, a bit hesitant to ask what you want to now. You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to get the words out even for as comfortable as you are now with your partner. Cyrus merely looks at you with a bit of confusion, but remains patient with you as you had with him earlier. Not wanting the silence between you to last too long, you try forcing yourself to be open.

“…You can go a bit further now, if you want.”

Cyrus blinks a bit. “Is that what you want?”

You roll your eyes around slightly in embarrassment, but do eventually give a “yes”. Upon hearing this, Cyrus gives a light half-laugh and moves to shift himself on top of you. He makes sure to keep an eye on your face to see how you’re reacting to this, but you don’t much give him any reason to stop. The young man straddles your hips , taking his place atop you. As he leans himself against your body, you can feel that he’s a bit stiff already. The sensation of him pressing against you only makes you blush.

“Is this alright for you?” He asks, pressing his hands against the mattress to steady himself while he looks down at you. “Or do you want me to move?”

“It’s how I’m used to,” you admit with still-red cheeks. Cyrus lightly frowns.

“But is it what you really want? Being used to it isn’t the same as wanting it, you know.”

“No, it’s alright,” you try to reassure him, shaking your head. “I do want to do this. This way’s fine. I’m sorry if you wanted to spend more time with the slower stuff though.”

You then pause and shift your eyes away. “You know…you were pretty intimate for someone who said they’re not used to that kind of thing. You didn’t seem to have that much trouble with it.”

Cyrus’ brows raise with surprise. “Didn’t I?”

Is he genuinely not aware of it? You want to say you’re not surprised when nobody here really knows what intimacy is like off the bat, but he worked you so sweetly that you can’t bring yourself to believe that he had no idea what he was doing. He has to have picked it up from somewhere.

When you shake your head in response to Cyrus’ question, he looks away a moment. Again, his brows lower. He tries to analyze himself, stating,

“I guess…I just really wanted it. I’ve never been that way with anyone before. I’ve faked intimacy for doctors, but that’s not at all the same as doing it with someone you actually care about.”

You look back at Cyrus’ concentrated face, still slightly frowning. You’re worried about him, but you’re not sure what to say next. Rather than speak words, you decide to bring your hands up to either side of his cheeks and raise your head up to kiss him quickly. This takes the young man aback and he shakes out of his train of thought. He looks at you with slightly wide eyes as you continue to hold his head gently. You smile for him.

“I know this is something I’ve needed, but I’m sure guys need this kind of thing too,” you tell your partner. “Especially you, out of all of us.”

Cyrus pauses a moment as he looks on at you, though you can’t much tell what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling this time. If anything, he just seems not to know how to react to being told what you said, but you can see his cheeks getting just slightly red. You watch as he brings one hand over yours on his right cheek, and his eyes shift to where he’s brought his hand. He eventually closes his eyes and smiles, leaning into your palm.

“Thank you,” he finally speaks up, his voice gentle. You feel his fingers curl just barely around the back of your hand. “It means a lot to me that you’re trying so much for me.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure whether I was doing all that much. Just what I could,” you admit with slight embarrassment. You really only touched him a little and reciprocated his kisses. That hardly feels like it’s worthy of too much praise. If anything, you’ve just been making requests and having Cyrus guide you when you hesitate. “I do feel a bit bad that I’ve just been laying here.”

“No, you’ve done a lot for me,” Cyrus assures you, his grip tightening over your hand as he leans in more. You watch as his eyes again open to reveal their aqua color. “I needed this just like you.”

Eventually, he lets you go, and you again drop your hands back down to the bed.

“As for the other part…” your partner goes on. “…It’s more familiar. I know where to go. For me, it’s not that hard.”

With your nerves slightly more relaxed, you can’t much resist joking now. “But you sure are.”

Cyrus glances at you a moment before eventually giving a loud laugh. Seeing him smile, you can’t much help laughing yourself.

“Look, my body reacts to things and I can’t always help it,” Cyrus tells you as he recovers from his laughter. “You know how it is. But in this context, it just means I’m enjoying myself.”

He then cups his hand over your cheek. “And I want you to enjoy yourself too.”

You nod in response, still slightly smiling.

“Just don’t go too fast at first,” you then ask of him. “I’m…still a bit sore from last night.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cyrus answers you with a light kiss of your other cheek. “Um, by the way, I’m going to have to pull my pants down, you know.”

You blush.

“Right.”

Cyrus straightens himself up so that he can reach down and start doing what he said he’d have to. Despite the nervousness rising in your chest when you realize that you’re about to actually have sex with your friend, you reach a hand over and grab his forearm before he can do so. Cyrus, surprised, looks down at you with raised brows.

“Let me do it,” you offer, wanting to get over your shyness. You want to be open with your friend, even like this. The young man atop you doesn’t bother to ask if you’re sure, because he is able to see on your face that you’re serious about it. He allows you to reach both hands over to his waist while keeping his arms by his sides.

Quietly, you concentrate on your task and make your way under Cyrus’ shirt until you grab the band of the top of his pants. Your fingers end up brushing over the skin of his waist as you do this, and you can’t help but enjoy the feeling. However, you stick to the terms of clothes-only sex. You still don’t want to be caught unprepared should someone walk in. At least it’s easier for Cyrus to pull his pants up than it would be to fully dress.

Once you have a grip on his waistband, you slowly pull Cyrus’ pants and underwear down. You hesitate at first, but try to swallow your nervousness and fully commit to carrying out your task. Eventually, Cyrus’ cock is exposed to you. It’s already a little wet with precum, and certainly quite hard. He has a bit of dark hair trailing up his crotch, but it’s fairly well maintained and kempt. You’re sure it’s been trimmed by Mom, and in accordance with her own preference. But you’d rather not think too hard about her or any other doctor right now. All that matters currently is you and Cyrus.

A slight fluttering sensation again invades your chest and stomach now that your companion is exposed to you. You’re not entirely sure why you’re so nervous seeing his body like this again. You’ve seen plenty of phalluses, plenty of naked bodies. It shouldn’t shock you. Maybe it’s just that his own body is different from most you’ve seen. You can’t help but ask,

“Is it weird for you?”

Cyrus raises a brow. “Weird? How do you mean?”

“I guess since it’s uncut,” you grumble, embarrassed. “Sorry, maybe that’s rude of me to ask.”

This makes the young man atop you laugh slightly. “No, it’s fine. Everyone’s different. But it’s not that strange. I just have to be more careful about cleaning it, about how I use it, et cetera. It’s just a little more work. It needs more care, but it otherwise works the same.”

You reach a hand over for a moment, but wind up hesitating. Cyrus sees this and smiles.

“It’s alright if you want to touch it,” he permits you. “Just touch, though. I’d rather have lube or something for any handsy stuff, but we don’t really have any.”

“You say that so confidently,” you nervously laugh. With your partner’s permission, you reach over and stroke his shaft, trailing your fingers along the flesh. It’s unusual to see a dick like this again, but it feels no different in your hands than others. Perhaps a bit flesher at the top, but not at all a hindrance to you. Truly, you’d be afraid to give Cyrus a handjob with the possibility of tearing at stake. Though, you blush a bit thinking about this. Does that mean you would do it? Is that awkward? Weird?

You try to shake your thoughts away and concentrate on touching Cyrus further. His cock is equally as warm as the rest of him, and you’re not sure why you might have expected anything else. You work your way up along his shaft until you reach his head, then gently pull his skin down to expose his tip. Cyrus winces a bit.

“Not too hard, okay?” He warns you, though his voice remains gentle. This makes you stop and apologize profusely, but the young man tries to reassure you again that it’s okay. Evidently, you’re still sort of learning how to do this with him.

Cyrus chuckles slightly at your continued hesitation. “Hey, if you need reassurance on whether I can still use this thing, I’d be happy to show you.”

You blush. “I-Is that a come-on or something?”

Again, your partner gives a light laugh, then hunches down and leans in to kiss you briefly.

“Not at all,” he says when he pulls away. “I’m just being a bit cocky, that’s all.”

He then shifts himself down so that his body is hovering over yours. With both his hands, he steadies himself atop you. He then pauses and looks back into your eyes, sensing your hesitance when you look away from him.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You give a quiet “yes”, but it doesn’t much convince him.

“Ten, I need you to tell me whether you want this. You seem a bit worried.”

“I do,” you try to assure the young man, forcing yourself to look back at him. “It’s just different than what we were doing. I’m trying to accept it, that’s all. But I do want it. Really.”

You try to smile again. “I’m happy, Cyrus. I got to know you in a way I hadn’t expected. It’s just odd for me to finally be here.”

“Under me?” Cyrus jokes. You laugh slightly.

“Actually, yeah. Kind of. It’s been a long time.”

Cyrus smiles warmly and brushes some hair sweetly away from your face to expose more of it.

“Don’t worry so much,” he coos. “I promised I’d take care of you. I want you to feel comfortable. So I’ll be gentle with you. Just like you want.”

You look into your partner’s aqua eyes and examine every feature of his face closely: his dark brows and hair, his round ears, his ghostly skin, his soft lips. You smile again at him and reach your head up to kiss him. This time he reciprocates your gesture, and he guides your head back down to the bed as he sweetly works your lips. And, now that he’s about to enter you, his kisses transition into something a bit more sensual. He uses his tongue this time, wrapping it warmly around yours. The breath from his nose hits your cheeks, and your eyes slowly close as you lose yourself to the sensations.

You feel Cyrus’ hand drop from your cheek and down to the hem of your gown. With all the shifting around he did, it had fallen back into place over your legs. Gently, Cyrus lifts the fabric up, then pulls your underwear aside rather than try to take it off. He seems to want to honor your earlier request to remain clothed, and works around it, which you deeply appreciate.

Once you’re exposed, you spread your legs willingly for the young man atop you and let him part your labia so that he can more easily enter you. A light, subtle moan escapes from your lips and into Cyrus’ mouth as you feel the head of his cock press gently against you, but you don’t fight him at all. Rather, you’re eager.

Your heart pounds relentlessly at the anticipation of his entry, and your fingers again curl around the sheets of the bed beneath you. Cyrus lingers at your entrance a moment as he moves his torso close to you. Like the last time he was with you, he bends his arms and leans against the bed with his forearms flat against the thing. With the hand he has closest to your head, he worms his palm beneath your scalp and holds you gently.

Using his thumb, he massages your clit to stimulate you a bit further. It’s then that he pushes his cock into you slowly. When you feel the tip of it enter your pussy, you can’t help but gasp lightly. Immediately, you bring your arms up and wrap them around Cyrus’ back, clutching him tightly as you’re penetrated.

For a moment, Cyrus pulls back and examines your face, but you give him a light nod to let him know you’re okay. Rather than immediately return to your lips, the young man first kisses your cheek sweetly. Without another word, he moves back to your mouth, and the both of you again return to your earlier position. You feel Cyrus pushing himself ever so gently into you. He takes his time, making sure you’re comfortable. You clutch him ever tighter the further he slides into your pussy, but it’s not out of pain or fear. It genuinely feels good, and you want him to know it.

After a while of this, Cyrus eventually pulls his head back again and lightly gasps as he does so.

“It’s in,” he breathes, the warmth of his breath hitting your face. He eventually retracts his hand from your crotch and brings it back to the opposite side of your head from his other arm. “Should I start moving?”

Entranced by all the kisses and laying there in a state of blissful warmth, you can only muster a quiet, breathy “yes” in response. Before Cyrus indulges your say-so, he pauses a moment and asks of you,

“I know it might be embarrassing, but try to tell me when you want to come, okay? I want to come with you.”

You widen your eyes slightly hearing this and blush wildly, but eventually smile and give another nod. You’re grateful that he wants to help you out, that he wants to listen to your wants as much as he wants to fulfil his own. As he said he loved you, you’d be remiss if you didn’t say you feel the same of him to some extent. Regardless of what kind of love it is, and even if neither of you are at a good enough point to really elaborate on your feelings, you’re happy to be with him now.

You moan slightly as Cyrus slowly pulls his crotch away from yours, just enough so that his shaft isn’t as deep inside of you. Rather than push forcefully back in, he slides himself gently back into you, his stride long, sweet, and gentle. You blush wildly at the feeling of this. It’s still sex, yet it feels more loving than you’ve ever felt before. Not since Lav have you gotten to feel this open. But this is one of the first times you’ve gotten to say what it is you want without guilt. Even with a bit of hesitation because of your shyness, you do feel like you’re starting to understand the sorts of things you seek after.

Again, you moan and whimper aloud as Cyrus slides sweetly in and out of you. He breathes pleasurably as his arousal grows, but he stays at a steady pumping pace just like he promised. With your arousal from the earlier activity, your wettened pussy does lightly squelch with each thrust, but you’re not much put off by the noise this time.

After a while of his initial few bucks and thrusts, Cyrus again moves to kiss your neck, moaning sweetly into it as he does so. The sounds of his voice only heighten your own arousal, and you curl your fingers against the fabric of Cyrus’ shirt on his back as you want more and more to be filled by him.

Neither of you really hold back on your voices this time around, and you find that your partner’s breaths are long and heavy, and his moans adoring. Without having to hear him say it, you know he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, and you let him know how much you love it by not only vocalizing your pleasure as loudly as Cyrus, but by moving your hips and rolling your body against his. This time, you don’t have a reason to lay there motionless. You want to work with your partner to ensure you both feel good.

“Cyrus...” you eventually moan into the young man’s ear. It feels good to say his name rather than his number.

You’re struggling to speak clearly, but try to get your words out. “…Go faster.”

The young man atop you doesn’t bother to verbalize an “okay”. Rather, he stops kissing your neck and moves to your cheek to give it a light peck. You feel his fingers curl around your scalp from under your head. Immediately after this, Cyrus picks his pace up for you and pumps his cock into you a bit more quickly. Even with the faster pace, you can tell he’s still trying eagerly to make you feel good.

He dips into you deeply with each thrust, but not enough to hurt you. His breaths become more labored and intermix with his moaning as he breathes heavily into your ear while he takes you. Your arms wrap more tightly around Cyrus’ back and head, and he ends up getting even closer to your body. You can feel your breasts pressing up against his chest, but the warm sensation and the bobbing of your breasts as you’re pumped into is admittedly pleasurable. With how tightly you’re being held, you feel enveloped in a warmth that extends to every part of your body.

More longing moans and groans slip from your lips as you’re pleasured, and you make them right into Cyrus’ ear. The longer you roll and buck your hips against the young man, the more you want to let go. Since you want your partner to come as well, you try to help him get there by any means possible. In between your moaning, you longingly kiss Cyrus’ neck and cheek, mimicking the same gestures he’s made with you. Despite feeling utterly turned on, you try to make your pecks sweet and gentle for your partner, and you give off light girlish moans with each one, while breathing heavily in between every kiss.

Cyrus grips the sheet of the bed beneath him with his one free hand and gasps.

“…Fuck…”

Unable to produce many words, he at least tries to moan your name.

“…Ten…”

You can feel the eagerness in every thrust he makes against you. He continues to pump longingly into your body, filling you with the warmth of his phallus and making you feel wonderful. In turn, you continue to work your lips on Cyrus’ skin. His breaths only become more labored as his pleasure intensifies. Again, the young man breathily and boyishly moans out your name before gripping you tighter, leaning in more against you as he does so. Sensing that he’s almost ready to come, you moan his name longingly in return. This only makes Cyrus gasp further as he pumps more and more into you.

“I’m almost there,” he tells you, practically groaning as he says it.

“Me…too…” you breathe in between your noises, your body nearly ready to explode with pleasure. “…Cyrus….”

Struggling to do much else with how good you feel, you drop your head slightly and let Cyrus continue to ride you. He pulls away from your ear as well and moves his lips over yours lovingly as he breathes heavily through his nose. Both your eyes close as you kiss one another, and this forces you to focus only on your bodies and the way they feel. As you start to reach your peak, you let out more girlish moans into Cyrus’ mouth, and your fingers dig into his back and scalp. You feel your toes curling as you finally let go. In turn, you feel Cyrus’ cock pulsing inside of you, and in moments, he pulls his mouth away and cries out loudly and breathily as he comes into you.

He’s unable to keep up his faster pace as he orgasms, but he does continue to move and thrust against you as his cum spurts into your pussy. You feel the warmth spilling into your body, and you can only bring yourself to whimper and moan sweetly as you’re filled with his seed. You refuse to let the young man go, clutching him ever closer as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips against him a few times, your body shivering with lust.

This pleasurable sensation lasts a good while, but eventually the both of you settle gradually down. Your thrusts and his both slow to a halt. Soon, you both become still and merely lie there together, remaining in an embrace and slightly sweating now. You hadn’t much realized you were sweating at all, but you’re too enraptured by pleasure to really care.

Neither of you seem eager to move after you’ve calmed down, merely breathing heavily as you recover from your activity. Cyrus lays his head beside yours, and you hear his steady, heavy breaths in your ear and feel the warm air expelled from his lips brush against your neck and cheek. As his chest rises and falls, it presses warmly against yours. It feels good.

These longing, recovering breaths last a while before they gradually slow down, upon which all that remains is a tender quiet between the both of you. After a while of laying like this, Cyrus eventually looks at you with a soft expression and asks,

“Are you alright?”

You merely nod and give a gentle, subtle smile in response, which Cyrus reciprocates with one of his own. He removes his hand from under your head and brushes some stray strands of disheveled hair sweetly away from your face while he looks on at you.

“This felt good,” he admits with a murmuring voice. “Did you enjoy it?”

Again, you nod and slowly close your eyes, blissfully relishing in the feeling of laying here in your partner’s warmth. Admittedly, you feel as if you have to do more than just this. But when you really think on how your body feels, you realize that just this bit of pleasure was enough for you. You’ve become so accustomed to being continuously fucked by the doctors during individual visits that you hadn’t realized how satisfying taking your time would be. But if Cyrus does happen to want to keep going, maybe you wouldn’t mind it either. Still, he seems to be enjoying this embrace and quiet just as much as you.

It’s then that you realize he’s still inside of you, but it doesn’t much bother you at all. You’d rather he be the one to hold you close and stay inside you than you-know-who. Without the strain of being forced into a position like this, you don’t much mind being like this with someone like Cyrus.

Suddenly, you feel the young man’s soft lips sweetly pecking yours. The sensation makes your eyes open gently, and you watch as the young man atop you pulls away and smiles kindly at you.

“Thank you,” he says. You raise a brow.

“Huh? For what?”

“For doing this with me,” your companion answers you openly. “I think we both really needed something like it.”

He then frowns.

“I do have to pull out eventually, by the way.”

You blush. “Right…I was kind of enjoying just laying here.”

You drop your hands from Cyrus’ body and place them palm-down against the bed. Slowly, Cyrus pulls his cock out of you, the sensation of which makes you lightly gasp as your filled cunt is now able to fully relax. You can feel a bit of Cyrus’ cum dribble out of you, and this only makes you realize,

“We made a bit of a mess…”

Cyrus looks down at his cum-covered member and frowns. “I guess so. I should have thought of that. But we can probably go clean up later.”

“Later?”

Cyrus then shifts his head back to face you again and smiles. “I figured you’d want to stick around a little. But if you don’t want to, we can part ways now.”

You look away in embarrassment as Cyrus moves to start pulling his pants back up. Would it be too demanding for you to say you want to stay? You’re admittedly enjoying the intimacy, for as awkward as it can be at times.

“I…don’t really think I wanna go yet,” you opt to say, moving your hand down to adjust your panties again now that you’re free to. Once you’ve put them back in their original position, you tug the hem of your gown down to cover your legs again. Your crotch feels wet with both yours and Cyrus’ juices, but you suppose there’s no helping it right now.

When Cyrus is done, he decides to lay back down beside you as he had when this all began, and you allow him to hold you close by the waist and head. He seems to know you’re still in the mood to be held, without you having to ask.

“You’re really okay doing this?” You inquire. Cyrus seems perplexed by this question, and he gives a quick “what?” in response.

You frown. “Are you okay being this way with me? Even knowing how you’re not sure how it makes you feel?”

“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have done it,” your companion reminds you. “People need this kind of thing now and again. Except those who aren’t much interested in it.”

You chuckle. “You mean Eight?”

“Pretty much,” is Cyrus’ coy reply. He then drops his playful tone. “I’m honestly surprised you touched me back though. I thought you might be a bit too shy for it.”

You look up at Cyrus and smile. “I wanted you to feel comforted too. I know you need it just as much as I do, Cyrus. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

The young man before you widens his eyes slightly in disbelief at your self-doubt, and he refutes this question.

“Not at all. It felt good. I don’t usually get touched that way. Even when Mom tries to be more sensitive with me, it’s…unsettling.”

Hearing this causes you to shift your eyes away and mutter, “Believe me, I know what you mean. Mom and Yosuke have some minor differences, but they have a lot of similarities too. It’s unbearable. Nine’s lucky Mom doesn’t like her.”

“She doesn’t prefer her, anyway,” Cyrus notes. “From what I know, she still talks to her like normal. She just won’t see her. Mom tends to treat most Numbers like they’re hers or something. She’ll talk to them like they’re children sometimes.”

“Why is she like that?” You ask scornfully. “What drives a woman to act like that and fetishize the concept of motherhood?”

Cyrus sighs. “I’m not exactly itching to find out myself. Honestly, I can’t really fathom why anyone has what interests they do. Even the Numbers probably have things they prefer. I don’t pry, so I don’t really know what they are unless I happen to see it. But from what I know, a lot of the girls here just want to be close to someone and cherished. I can’t really say much about the guys.”

“Eight I get not knowing since he’s newest of the three of you. But you’ve known Two for so long,” You remark curiously. “Aren’t you at least close enough to know, then?”

Cyrus laughs gently. “He doesn’t show a lot of his true self all the time. Like Three, he keeps his true self ‘in the family’, so to speak. I see bits of his remorse, his worries, his guilt here and there, but he tries to smile through a lot of it. As for his interest, I have no idea. Nor is it really my business.

“Eight on the other hand…I can’t really read him. I don’t know what he really wants, even for as much as I’ve come to know him. Likely respect, more than anything. He seems to respond well to when we listen to him and take his words seriously.”

Hearing your companion speak so openly about his male friends only makes you wonder whether he’s open to them as he is with the girls. He and Nine seem to have been pretty open about sex talk. And now it seems you’re not having much trouble with it either. But the boys are a little different than you and your same-sex portion of the group. You can’t much place boys and men even when you’re close with them, friendly or otherwise. You wonder if you were ever this bad with relationships before.

Thinking on it, you can’t help but ask Cyrus about his opinion on them. Maybe you’re being presumptuous asking this after he’s shown you his affection and been intimate with you, but the question doesn’t leave your mind the moment it shows up.

“Cyrus, do you like guys at all?”

Your companion blinks a bit as he assesses your inquiry, a bit surprised to have been suddenly asked it. He looks over at you with his aqua gaze and lightly frowns, as if puzzled.

“Where’d that come from?”

You blush and glance away. “I have no idea, sorry. If it’s too weird or something…”

Despite the initial bewilderment, your friend now laughs.

“Ten, I don’t know enough to be certain right now,” he begins. “But I don’t think I have a preference against anyone in particular. I just happen to have found myself fascinated by one girl. That’s hardly enough to say for certain.”

This surprises you. “You mean you wouldn’t be against it?”

“I suppose not. Using the doctors for comparison is probably not the best bet, but it’s hardly been difficult to handle some of the other men. But intimately speaking, I don’t think I’d much care about the sex of my partner as long as I can connect with them. Is that enough for you?”

You blush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s a personal question.”

Cyrus lowers a brow. “I was inside of you just a moment ago. I think ‘personal’ is out the window now.”

“Hey, I can still have reservations!” you call out with a pout. You then soften your expression. “I’m still adjusting to this openness thing, honestly. I’m still easily embarrassed by things. Like Nine, for example. I’m still not accustomed to seeing her naked when she’s in the gym. I mean, I can handle it a little better than I used to, but it really depends. Besides, I still don’t know a lot in general. I feel…underprepared, maybe? Or just confused.”

“There’s not a lot you can know down here,” Cyrus attempts to remind you. “Even books and experience only do so much when your library and experience types are limited. We only really have each other, and our group doesn’t really reflect a whole population of people in the real world. There’s too many personalities and interests out there, I’m sure. We probably have no idea how romance and sex work out in the real world.”

“For all we know we could be doing this wrong,” you lightly sigh, absorbing his words. “But I don’t think it feels wrong. Does that make sense?”

Cyrus looks at you for a moment in assessment, but then drops his eyes to the side. You notice his cheeks just slightly reddening.

“Yeah.”

The both of you go silent a moment, but Cyrus eventually speaks up. His earlier quiet tone is now slyer and more playful.

“And what about you? Don’t think you can get away with asking me something like that without consequence.”

“…I guess that’s fair,” you grumble embarrassedly. “Look, I’m no surer than you are. I haven’t disliked being with either sex. Is that enough for you?”

Cyrus laughs gently. “I was only joking. You didn’t have to give me a genuine answer.”

This makes you pout again, but you can’t much hold onto your expression for long before you wind up laughing too.

“Well, regardless of preference,” you murmur, leaning into Cyrus’ chest, “It’s really nice to be like this. I didn’t realize how much I really needed this kind of affection. I think at this point I’d have taken it from anyone.”

You blush and stammer, realizing what your words may have sounded like. You look up at Cyrus anxiously.

“N-not like I didn’t like this with you specifically!”

Cyrus seems amused by your worry about offending him.

“It’s fine,” he assures you. Realizing that he’s understood what you meant, you relax a bit and again lean your head into his chest. “It was refreshing. Being with someone other than a doctor for once. I’ve never really done that, especially not like this.”

He brings you even closer to him. “After dealing with so much abuse, it’s nice for there to be someone to have and to hold.”

Your eyes slowly open as Cyrus says this. Something about these words has clicked for you, and you have no idea why or how precisely. All that you can gather next is that there are words mindlessly escaping your mouth, and you don’t understand where they’re coming from. You remember these words, but you don’t know why.

“…from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…”

Cyrus, confused, pulls away from you suddenly and looks at your face with worry in his own.

“Ten?” He brings his hand from your waist to your head and holds one side of it firmly. “What’s wrong?”

You find yourself bewildered by these words escaping from your lips, and you don’t even let yourself finish whatever the hell it is you’re saying. Now, you curl your fingers tightly around the fabric of Cyrus’ shirt over his chest and widen your eyes.

“W-what the fuck…” you mumble confusedly. “What are these words?”

Your companion looks away and lightly squints as he tries to ponder them a moment.

“They’re wedding vows, I think,” he supposes, dropping his hand. “I’ve seen a few romantic movies with the others, so I’ve heard them a few times. There was even one playing when you first came, remember? There’s variation in phrasing, but that’s the gist of it.”

“No, I don’t remember!” You refute this in a rising panic. The beating of your heart increases exponentially, and you shake your head uncertainly. “Why the fuck do I know wedding vows at all? A-am I married?”

You can’t help but try to make a connection, try to understand where this came from. You don’t much manage to, and the static feeling you’ve felt many times before assaults your mind rather immediately. You groan in frustration and hold your head, worrying Cyrus heavily. He lays you flat on the bed and hovers over you, bringing both his hands on either side of your head. One hand cups yours.

“Ten, relax,” he begs you. “Don’t try to remember if it’s just going to hurt you, okay?”

He removes the hand from your head while leaving the other over the back of your palm. Still worried, he grabs onto the hand you have gripping his shirt and worms his fingers between yours, holding you firmly.

“Just breathe,” he guides you. “Don’t try to fight what you can’t remember.”

Trying to follow his instruction, you suck in a long breath and exhale slowly. You repeat this a few times while squeezing Cyrus’ hand. Eventually, you’re able to calm yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize solemnly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It just took me by surprise. I don’t usually have something come to me like that.”

Cyrus looks down. “Sometimes it happens. Unfortunately, you can’t really do much about it. You either know something or you don’t. Trust me, I’m aware.”

He then tries to smile for you and glances back over toward your face with his bright eyes. He attempts to remain chipper for you.

“You know, you look too young to be married,” he says. “I guess I don’t know how old you are, but you definitely don’t look anywhere near as old as the doctors. So maybe you just remember those words because of something you’ve seen or read. And you might have also been to a wedding once as well. Maybe you had family or friends who married.”

You look away. Of course that was a possibility. There are a lot of reasons you might know wedding vows. You’re so stupid.

Cyrus hesitates a moment, but eventually asks,

“Is there a reason being married might have bothered you?”

This question takes you aback. Is that why you panicked? You figured it was because you hadn’t expected the small chance to make a memory connection. Even if it was stupid to expect something of worth to come flooding back, you couldn’t much help it.

Thinking on it, maybe it does bug you. You’re surprised the vows never came to you in your wedding dream, actually. You were much too fixated on being ferried off to the altar and on Eight scorning you then. Not like the entire thing was a formal wedding anyway. Hell, it wasn’t even real. But it strikes you that you remember knowing the wedding was bogus. You must have been to one before. You’re also starting to wonder if maybe you’re familiar with the place the wedding happened in. There has to be a reason you’ve seen it twice already.

But trying to understand it is useless without any capacity to make any connection to past memories. Even if you were to piece something together, you couldn’t assure it was the truth. All you can really do is make up a story and pretend it’s true to make yourself feel better about not knowing the truth. Cyrus is right that it’s better not to try too hard to remember. You just can’t.

“Kind of,” you finally respond, realizing you’ve taken a while to. “If I knew I was married, I’d have more reservations about sleeping around with anyone here. Or getting close to them at all.”

Cyrus looks down again. “I understand, but it’s not as if you’d be able to go back to anyone you left behind. We’re not leaving this place.”

“…Right,” you mutter. This is a disappointing truth, but one you know you have to swallow. “…But there’s another reason it bothers me too.”

You hesitate a moment. You’ve only really told Eight about your dream now that you think about it. You’d refrained from going over it with Lav and Cyrus before because you weren’t particularly eager to go over it again. But in this moment, it’s probably better to at least mention it.

“I had a dream a long time ago where I married Yosuke,” you admit, starting to grow embarrassed when you say these words out loud. “There was a garden there I remember being in the dream I told you and Nine about recently.”

Thinking about the dream again only hurts. You were so dependent on your doctor back then. You almost wanted to fall for his tricks at some point because he was being so protective and caring of you. Now, you know exactly how he is.

You look up at Cyrus when he doesn’t respond right away. “It’s weird, right? I know it is. I just…it bothers me that I had a wedding in that dream. Now I’m remembering vows. It’s not sitting right with me.”

“We can’t really predict the things we dream or the things that come to us,” Cyrus tries to assuage your worries. “I’ve had a few weird and unsettling dreams myself, and I’ve known things without knowing why I do. But, in your case, maybe you’re just remembering something you’ve experienced. Iconography or something that’s just present in your mind. You can’t place it, and you can’t really recall it either. You just feel a familiarity with it. Unfortunately, that’s as far as it really goes. You’re better off not thinking too hard about it. For your own sake.”

You sigh. “I guess. Have you ever experienced anything like this?”

Seeing that you’re again relaxed, Cyrus releases his hold on you and moves to lay beside you. This time, he lays on his back and holds your hand tightly in his to keep you comforted without having to embrace you fully again. You wind up squeezing his hand tightly.

The young man’s aqua eyes close a moment as he relaxes in this position, but he does continue to speak.

“No,” he says simply, finally attempting to answer your question. “If I have, I don’t remember. I’ve never really had familiar things pop up in my dreams. Or at least I’ve never noticed. No people, no places, no things.”

Cyrus’ eyes open when you don’t respond for a while. Your sudden silence prompts your companion to turn his head and look at you worriedly. “Ten, are you doing okay?”

You stare up at the hooded, metallic portion of the bed and exhale through your nose frustratedly.

“I just wanna go home, wherever that is,” you remark. You then turn to Cyrus and try to smile for him. “But at the same time, I’m happy being here like this. I’m glad I’ve got someone looking out for me. Thank you.”

Your partner gives a subtle smile in response. You turn back up and close your eyes this time, though you can sense Cyrus watching you. He squeezes your hand a bit to match your own grip, but says nothing. Eventually, quiet settles between the both of you as you relax together.

Despite the frustration you feel at what you can’t remember, you decide to try letting it go just for now. You want to enjoy this time with Cyrus. You never really expected all of this to happen, but you’re glad it did.

You aren’t really sure how much time passes. It doesn’t feel like very long, nor do you fall asleep. You merely lie there quietly in the shade of the curved awning above you, shielded from the bright light of the theater.

Eventually, your peace is interrupted by a metallic sound. Only when your mind snaps back into focus do you become more aware of the fact that it’s the sound of the theater doors opening. Promptly, your eyes shoot open. You glance at Cyrus, who you find has already shifted his gaze over to you, looking on with worry as well.

Your heart begins to pound. You realize you’re still a bit messy from having sex with Cyrus. Both of you have slightly disheveled hair from all the touching of one another you did, and the bedsheets are fairly wet and dirty. A few strands of your hair are still a tinge damp from the sweat, even if your skin has mostly cooled off. Anyone who sees you might be able to guess right away what you’ve just done. Maybe you should have cleaned off while you had the chance, but you couldn’t really help wanting to be held and having a conversation after your activity.

Before either you or Cyrus can react, you hear someone step into the theater. You listen intently to the sound of their light footsteps, but they seem to stop pretty immediately after the doors close behind them. In moments, all you hear from around the entrance is a brief, echoing,

“Hello?”

Chapter 58: Visit Twenty Seven - Wanted

Cyrus doesn’t waste much time getting up. He remains as quiet as possible as he shifts around, and you follow his lead. While you sit up where you were laying, he sits on his knees before you and silently points to his head. You’re able to gather he’s trying to gesture to your hair. Realizing this, you start to try running your fingers through it in a jiffy, hoping to adjust it back into place enough for it not to be obvious that you’ve just been in arms with someone. Both of you attempt to hide your disheveled states as quickly as possible, picking up the pace promptly when you hear the visitor’s footsteps again begin.

You were so surprised by their sudden entrance that you hadn’t really noticed whose voice it was, but it certainly wasn’t either of the other guys. Either way, your focus now is in trying to recover from earlier. Even if the attempt at hiding your activity with Cyrus is likely a poor one, you still have to try. Especially if that person is-

“Anyone hiding in here?”

Your heart jumps. On one hand, you should be glad it isn’t Violet’s voice. You’d recognize it right away If it were. But the moment you hear the familiar casual tone, both you and Cyrus glance worriedly at each other. You’re not sure if his reasons for being worried are the same as yours.

Not knowing what else to do, both you and Cyrus sit beside one another, facing the stage and attempting to look casual. You feel yourself shivering slightly as you hear the footsteps from behind your row grow closer. Your eyes fixate on the floor nervously. What expression Cyrus has, you don’t really know. Your head is starting to pulse with how heavy your heart is beating. You can’t much focus on him right now.

The footsteps stop finally, and when your eyes shift over to the right end of the long bed, you see a pair of feet and legs from the opening. Your visitor bends down a bit when she sees something from where she’s at, and you’re met with a very surprised Lav.

“Hey, there you are!” she calls out chipperly, almost laughing. “You guys have been gone a whi-“

She pauses a moment when she fully lays her amber eyes on both you and Cyrus. The both of you know that Lav’s able to tell what you’ve just done, and your heart sinks as the silence in the room persists. Cyrus merely shifts his eyes guiltily away, while you look over at Lav with a woeful gaze. Your friend merely rolls her eyes around in an attempt to remain casual, and blows some breath out from her puffed up cheek.

“My bad,” she finally says, trying to play this off. “Didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.”

Though the young woman remains ever calm, you can see something in her eyes that strikes you. She seems the same, but it’s a subtle hint of disappointment that you can pick out. You hope you aren’t just overthinking it, but with your fears of hurting her at stake, you need to be sure. She’s evidently put two and two together, and maybe she doesn’t like that she has. Even if she’s trying to play it off coolly, you can’t help but let a wave of guilt wash over you.

Being with Cyrus isn’t really what shames you. You won’t apologize for it any more than you’ll apologize for being with Lav. Now more than ever, you need not to associate your guilt with the things you like. It’s hurting your friend that you’re most concerned with. Whether Lav’s reaction is certainly bound in disappointment, you aren’t exactly sure. You want to believe you really are overthinking it, or seeing something that you expect to see the way Violet sometimes does. But…

Lav starts to stand herself up, preparing to leave. Cyrus tenses up a bit. You don’t want him to feel any guiltier than you, but can’t much help him right now. You glance at him with parted lips, but say nothing and let him be. You don’t want Lav to leave here feeling the way she does, if she does. Cyrus you can handle later. But for now, you need to handle Lav. Even if she’s retaining a casual tone, she’s slinking away in a manner different than you’re used to. Something’s just off. There’s no way she’s not upset.

Immediately, you reach out a hand and call out to her, but she doesn’t really stick around. It’s this that makes your fears of her being upset even more real. You’re certain now that she’s not exactly happy.

“Nine, wait!” You call out more loudly. You try to shift yourself off the bed and stand so that you can follow her. The young woman is now strolling down the aisle, but you remain insistent. You follow behind her and again call for her, almost pleading. It’s then that the young woman stops walking. You see her shoulders slightly rise and fall as if she’s taken and expelled a heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Lav finally turns to face you, but she remains smiling.

“Hey, I’m not mad or anything,” she tries to assure you. Still, the telling look in her eye remains. You’re not at all convinced. “Do whatever you like. I just came over to check on you since you’ve been gone a while. Both of you.”

She gives a light shrug of her shoulder. “I mean, maybe I should have guessed since you left and were gone for so long. Silly me, I thought you two were talking.”

You look down. “We were. Really. It just…”

“Happened?” Lav finishes for you with a light laugh as you trail off. You nod your head.

“I wasn’t trying to be hurtful to anyone,” you again promise her. “So if you’re mad…”

Lav frowns now. “Ten, I’m not mad.”

You look back at her face. Again, her expression is off. You shake your head in refusal of this statement.

“Sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

At this point, you hear Cyrus shuffling about. You turn your head just slightly enough to see him coming out from the corner of your eye, but otherwise remain fixated on Lav. Cyrus say and does nothing, merely standing a few steps behind you.

Lav’s eyes just subtly flicker to Cyrus, but she doesn’t much linger on him. She seems a bit crestfallen now. You’re not sure whether he’s looked at her or not, but you’re too tensed up dealing with the girl before you now to bother checking fully.

You see Lav’s brows slightly furrow as she sees you staring insistently at her in a woeful manner.

“Ten, do you want me to be pissed off or something?!” She questions rather crudely. “I’ve told you before, it’s not a big deal.”

“But your face…” you point out sheepishly. This only makes your friend sigh.

“What, you a master sleuth at reading expressions now?” She tiredly grumbles. The young woman folds her arms and drops her eyes to the side. “Look, I don’t want this to upset me. With no offense to Violet, I don’t want that whole jealousy thing to affect me. It’s not my style. I promise, I’m not mad and I’m not gonna hold a grudge over something like this.”

She then shifts her gaze back at you and frowns. “That said, I can’t help how I feel, Ten. Like, I have no problems with you fooling around with Cyrus or anything. The guy’s sweet and pretty grounded all things considered. But I’ll be a bit honest: I do really like you. I know I’ve been a little too pushy sometimes, so I try to take things slow because I know you really need to be eased into most things. I take my time and I work with you because I really do care about you. But you wanna know what hurts a little?”

You hold onto one of your arms and look down. You’re already aware of what’s affecting her, but allow your companion to speak her mind.

“You didn’t really even wait for me,” Lav goes on solemnly, shaking her head. “You couldn’t get your kicks off with me, so you went to Cyrus instead. I won’t scorn you for doing it, it just really, really stings. I always felt I was being too pushy or intruding too hard into your business. I always tried to apologize for it or dismiss my own wants because I wanted to work with you. But look, I don’t want to overthink it. I know how dangerous that can be.”

“Nine, I’m…” You trail off again, not even sure whether an apology will do anything right now. When you again fail to speak, Lav continues to. Her eyes again briefly flicker toward Cyrus.

“Judging by Cyrus’ lack of reaction to me saying all this, he already knew that you and I had a few moments together,” she observes. “So you must have told him, or he figured it out. Right?”

You turn your head a bit to look toward the young man behind you, giving him a worried stare. You can see that he’s started to nervously rub his neck.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have,” he says hesitantly, though doesn’t acknowledge Lav’s question knowing that she’s already gotten her answer by watching him. “Look, it’s kind of my fault. I’m the one who asked in the first place. I’m sorry.”

Lav looks on at Cyrus a moment, observant. Her arms unfold and she drops her hands to her hips before heaving a heavy sigh.

“Hey, don’t feel bad about it,” she tells both him and you, attempting to keep her cool. However, there’s still a tinge of hurt in her voice that only stings to hear. “I just…I don’t know. The fact that it was here of all places too…”

She then shakes her head. At this point, it almost sounds like she’s just fighting with her own self rather than being genuinely upset at you or Cyrus.

“Whatever. I don’t own anyone, and I can’t control their feelings. It’s not up to me, and I don’t want this to get to me. So I won’t. Especially not knowing that you’re probably both really freaked out by now.”

She then slightly laughs and gestures a hand toward you and Cyrus. “I mean, look at you. You guys look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Even though she’s fighting to not make this a big deal, you can still tell she’s a tinge unhappy. You aren’t sure what to say, but do want to try being present for her. The situation does look bad. Normally, Lav might just brush this kind of thing off like she’s attempting to now. Were her feelings for you more casual, she might be able to put this aside without issue. But she likes you enough for it to genuinely hurt her.

You don’t want to make a negative assumption that it’s your fault that people’s feelings get hurt. You hurt others without meaning to, just because of who you wind up associating with. Violet’s feelings, Cyrus’ feelings, and Lav’s all have been affected by you. In part, your mind wants to say you’re a terrible person. The worst parts of your mind do incline you to say that somehow this is all your fault. But you know that’s not true. Things just happened, and often do, right?

When neither you nor Cyrus really respond, Lav lightly huffs out a bit of breath and shrugs her shoulders. She says nothing, but her gesture is ultimately dismissive of the situation. Perhaps she’s frustrated by your lack of action or words. You have no idea what to say. As for Cyrus…does he feel guilty? You wish it weren’t the case, but you also know how he gets.

Lav doesn’t bother to give a goodbye before she turns to walk off. But before she can step very far, you decide to act. Maybe she is upset that you’re not trying to fight for her. Is she disappointed that you’re not trying? Do you want to try?

Yes. You want Lav here.

Since you’re closest in proximity to her, you are the only one who can reach her right now. Without hesitating, you step forward and reach a hand out to grab Lav’s wrist, making her immediately stop. Rather than avoid looking at you in whatever mess of emotions she might be feeling now, she has no problems turning around. She slowly angles her body toward you, just enough to fully be able to look at you. Her expression is softer now, more worried.

“Nine, please,” you quietly plead. You try not to sound desperate, but rather calm. Your grip isn’t tight enough to hurt the girl, but firm enough to make your companion utterly aware of your eagerness to quell things. “Stay. We want you to.”

Lav shifts her eyes to the side in contemplation for just a moment, then looks back at you with a raised brow.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure how to answer this sudden question. Why do you want her to stay? You have to be careful on how you respond. Is it because of selfishness? Because you just don’t want to be held accountable for what you did? Or do you really care about Lav enough to want her happiness?

Yes, you do. Of course you do. And it’s stupid of you to ever doubt that. You’re not selfish. You do admittedly want things of your own, but that’s not malignant selfishness. You’re just a person with your own needs and wants, like any other. You don’t want to apologize for that sort of thing. You’ll still fluster easily over unexpected affection. You’ll still hesitate here and there until you’re used to this kind of thing. But you’re not selfish, and you don’t want to let your mind run with negative thoughts. You love Lav, and you want her to be alright. Right now, that’s your focus.

“We care about you,” is the answer you give her. “We want to make sure you’re okay.”

You realize that this isn’t a sufficient enough answer. There’s more to it you’re not really getting out properly. There’s more you want to say. Knowing this, you start stepping just a bit closer and slide your hand from Lav’s wrist to her palm, cupping it. “And we need you. We want to work this out because we really care about you.”

You turn again toward Cyrus and try to smile. “Right?”

The young man behind you pauses a bit to look on at you and Lav, but does eventually give a bit of a sheepish nod. You figure he’s still reeling a bit from getting caught with you. If he thinks you and Lav share a closeness, maybe it’s no wonder he’s so torn about this. If he Lav didn’t care as much about you as she does, and he was aware of that, he might not have reacted this way to being caught with you.

Cyrus himself hadn’t much been affected by knowing you and Lav were together at all. But he couldn’t really predict how she’d react. She’s always been strongheaded and understanding, but even her feelings got in the way this time around. But if this is how she’s reacting, then maybe even Cyrus lied when he said he was okay with you being around with her, and just hid it far better. Maybe even he was hurt. But the young man has even less to gripe about when he got to share such an intimate moment with you. Lav still deserves one too. You want her to feel just as good.

Seeing that you both feel the same, Lav exhales a bit of breath, though she smiles just slightly. She drops her hand from yours and places it instead on your shoulder.

“You guys don’t need to worry so much,” she tells you gently. “Sure, I’m a little disappointed. I do really like you and all, Ten. Of course it hurts a little to see you with someone else even when I said I’d be okay with it. But I wasn’t lying when I said I would be accepting and that you’re free to do what you like. I don’t want to let my thoughts run too hard. I know how this place is and how it affects us. We need that closeness, and we shouldn’t feel ashamed of who we’re close to. I’ll get over it, no problem. It’s just…”

She frowns slightly. “I think it’s the first time I’ve genuinely felt that way about another person. But I also feel like your idea of affection isn’t the same as mine.”

You blush lightly. “How so?”

“My impression of you is that you’re really hesitant to be open about certain things,” Lav explains, looking up at you with her amber eyes. “You have this tendency to stop yourself when it comes to sex. Of course you’re learning. I just wish that you’d had the chance to understand what you want. Maybe it’s selfish, but I’d have liked you to take that journey with me. I do really like you as a person, but I’m equally as fond of you sexually. I did want to go further, and maybe I was pushy about it. I’m sorry if I was.”

She notices your red face and slightly laughs. “I know that might be awkward to hear, but it’s true. I don’t want to lie to you about it. But look, as long as you’re coming to understand yourself and your body, I’ll be happy. Even if it’s with Cyrus or anyone else. I just want you not to be so afraid. I want you to be comfortable with yourself.”

Lav fully turns her body toward you now and places her other hand on your other shoulder.

“Ten, I want you to say, ‘I want to be touched’ without remorse,” she tells you sweetly. “And I thought I’d be the one to help you get there. But maybe I was wrong. I’m sorry for making you and Cyrus worry so much about what you were doing. Neither of you should be so hung up on me and my dummy feelings. I’m a self-sufficient girl, you know? I can recover.”

“Nine…” You murmur, your eyes wide with surprise. You aren’t sure how to take all these words. It’s the first time she’s been genuinely honest about her feelings toward you. Not only just complimenting your looks or your progress, but focusing on her own attraction to you and what she wants out being close with you. It’s not selfish of her. It’s understandable. And she isn’t wrong that you’ve struggled to be so open. You want to be, really. You can’t be her, but you can at least let yourself be that open with her. You came so close last time, after all.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Nine,” Cyrus finally speaks. You hadn’t realized he started walking toward you and Lav, but do feel him brush past you to stand beside you and her. He looks a tinge remorseful even now, but you can tell he’s trying to keep his head up. “Your feelings matter too. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be so careful of them, right?”

“Now that’s a lie,” Lav laughs, dropping her hands from your shoulders and folding her arms again. “Cyrus, you care too much about everyone. You’d probably protect a house fly even if it was bothering you. You’re sweet, thinking of me. I really appreciate it. So…”

She shrugs a shoulder. “No hard feelings. Alright? I mean, I guess there weren’t any to begin with. I just wanted to uh, put your mind at ease. You look really worried. I’ve seen that face plenty of times, y’know.”

Cyrus pauses a moment, and his eyes shift down as he thinks on this. He seems perplexed on what to really tell his friend. You don’t blame him for it. Lav surprised even you. Even now, you still haven’t given any response to her statements about you.

After a brief silence, Cyrus looks back up and softens his expression, smiling slightly now for the young woman.

“I guess we both ended up worrying about each other,” he figures. “We’re supposed to be the ‘stable’ ones and even we’re here acting so hesitantly. I am sorry if I hurt you. I know you’re saying you’re okay, but it’s fine if you’re hurting too. You can be honest without offending me. My main concern is making sure other are okay. You know how I am.”

“I sure do, Cyrus,” Lav says with a raised brow. Though, she chuckles a little. “Hey, I still like you. You’re a sweetheart. You and Ten are alike that way. I guess that’s why you like her so much, huh?”

You blush move your hands to each forearm to hold them. “Um…”

Even Cyrus seems taken aback by this statement, his lips subtly parting in bewilderment.

“We’re…not really a couple or anything, you know,” he tells the young woman beside him. You attempt to add,

“Yeah, it was sort of just…”

“A fling?” Lav questions coyly as she finishes your trailing off statement. You aren’t sure you can really call your time with Cyrus just a fling with how intimate it was. Can flings be that intimate? In that case, was what you did with Lav intimate, or just plain sexual?

No, it had intimacy, just in a different way. Especially the second time, before you got interrupted. It had by then become much clearer to you that having sex with her was something you were willing to do. Lav’s a beautiful young woman, and lately, thinking of her body against yours and holding you securely doesn’t much bother you at all.

Maybe you have a different kind of love for Lav than you do Cyrus. His affection is very different from hers. His is more romantic, even if the guy struggles to see it that way. Lav’s affection, while intimate, is so in a more openly sexual way. Even having sex with Cyrus was far different than anything you did with Lav. That’s been clear to you for a while, but you never really took the opportunity to compare the two Numbers.

Lav’s style of affection isn’t at all a bad thing, you figure. It’s just something you’ve had to try getting used to. Even now you’re still a bit shy with sex. It took a while to get used to Cyrus, and even with Lav you’d been very shaky and embarrassed despite wanting to be touched by her.

You told Cyrus you liked both being held and being touched. Maybe both your companions have different things to offer. The only problem is the idea of genuinely committing yourself to either one. You can’t really do that now. But things have apparently escalated slightly in a way you never much expected. You feel a bit bashful thinking of how much of a center you are between them. They both seem to like you. Love you, really. You cherish their affection, but it’s a bit embarrassing to be fawned over this way. This isn’t at all like how Yosuke fawns over you, but rather it’s done in a way that reflects genuine love and respect. Your heart flutters a bit the more you think of it.

“Hey, if you’re still offering me to hang out with you guys, I wouldn’t mind taking you up on that.” Lav’s voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you perk your lightly tilted down head up to look at her.

Cyrus raises his brows a bit. “Hm? What about the others?”

“Please, they’re not gonna come around anytime soon,” Lav laughs. “The twins fell asleep for a bit, the two peachy lovebirds are doing their own thing, and Violet’s talking Eight’s ear off.”

“He’s probably having a great time,” You remark with amusement. Now that your attention’s turned away from everything else, you’re able to relax again.

“What about Blue? You were working on something with her, yeah?” Cyrus questions. This makes Lav playfully pout.

“Gee, Cyrus. If you don’t want me around just say so.”

The young man rubs the back of his neck a bit and apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lav waves a hand around. “I know, I know. You’re a real people pleaser. You don’t want to leave them hanging either. But I mean, you were gone a while, so you kinda did already. Not like they’d mind. You know them.”

“Were we gone that long?” You question, embarrassed. Lav merely shrugs.

“I didn’t notice you step out, but when I did, Violet said you were eating,” she says. “I eventually had nothing to help Blue with. She got so into what she was doing she completely zoned out on me. You know how she is when she actually concentrates on something. So I went to go check on you. Lo and behold, you weren’t where I was told you’d be.”

She sighs.

“I figured you two were together, really. In the back of my mind I knew something was up. I gave you space on purpose and had a quick snack just to kill time, all the while thinking ‘are they fucking?’. It shouldn’t have gotten to me, but it did a little. Maybe that’s why I reacted to it how I did when I finally did see you and only had my suspicions confirmed. I was a little disappointed to be right. Not because of any vendetta or disdain against either of you. I love you guys! I just didn’t want what was special between me and Ten to stop. I guess I did that thing people normally do and feel like I was losing her to someone else. Even if you’re telling me you’re not dating or something, it’s sort of the principle of the thing.”

Lav then shrugs both her shoulders.

“I mean, it’s whatever, I guess. I’m not used to feeling that way. Not that I can ever remember, really. But I don’t want to let it get to me, like I said. You have the right to do whatever you want here. Hell, you could go after anyone and I’d just have to accept it. Though it’d sure throw me for a loop.”

You pout. “Why do you guys both use me coupling the others as an example? Geez.”

Lav and Cyrus both slightly laugh.

“It’s impractical, sure,” Cyrus mentions. “But the point is that we want you to be happy.”

“And to have that freedom of choice,” Lav adds with a nod. “Without feeling ashamed about it.”

She turns to Cyrus then. “That goes for you too, mister. Don’t feel bad about having sex with a pretty girl you like.”

Cyrus clears his throat a bit and scratches his cheek slightly. “Right…Are we just gonna make fun of me now?”

“Do you want us to?” You tease, giving a bit of a soft chuckle. Cyrus merely lowers his brows and glances at you, though you’re sure he’s not genuinely offended.

With all three of you being a bit more relaxed now, you all finally decide to move back to a nearby bed and sit against it. You don’t wind up going to the same row you were in with Cyrus, a bit embarrassed to see the mess you made there again and not wanting Lav to have to see it herself.

Hoping to satisfy both your friends, you opt to sit between them. Even if neither makes it obvious they want to be beside you, you’re very certain that’s the case. Again, Cyrus sits to your left, while Lav remains on your right. You fold your knees up close to your chest and lean against them as you stare out at the stage. Meanwhile, Cyrus’ legs are crossed, and Lav merely lies with her legs straight out. She seems to sink into the mattress, and is the only one to really do so. Her blonde hair spreads against the back of the angled bed and, the young woman gives a comfortable sigh as she relaxes. You almost want to laugh at how cozy she looks. Maybe she just wanted to chill out and stretch her legs a little after all that sitting and craftwork she’d done.

“I can almost picture the twins up there whenever I come here,” Lav remarks with a light laugh.

Cyrus’ eyes also remain affixed to the stage curiously. “They haven’t much been doing their acting spiel, huh?”

“Maybe it’s because nobody really wants to do it with them,” you suppose with a shrug. “They laugh so much with each other that they can’t really get anything done. They did ask me to join them once. Even if their little play was short, it was fun. Just really embarrassing since I’m bad at that stuff.”

“That was a long while ago,” Lav ponders this. “Or at least it feels like. I wonder how long you’ve really been here.”

“I don’t know, but it feels like it’s been forever already,” you answer with a frown. “Being with you guys is the only thing that makes me forget everything I have to deal with. It’s all I really have to distract me. I know, Nine, you’ve said before that it can’t be a permanent thing and that I shouldn’t rely solely on others. I do want to rely on myself too. But sometimes it just feels better to lean on you.”

Lav smirks. “Physically or figuratively?”

You blush in response to this. “Um…I guess both. Is that weird?”

You then bring a hand up to your face sheepishly. “Oh god, that’s weird.”

This makes Lav laugh aloud. “Ten, it’s fine! You can be honest about the things that make you feel good or the things you want. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“And I’ve already told you it doesn’t bug me you two did anything,” Cyrus chimes in, equally as eager to help you stop feeling so hesitant. “I’m glad you and I had a chance to try, but that doesn’t mean I own you now or something. You can be open.”

As you slowly drop your hand back down and again lean your arm on your knee, you notice that Lav raises a brow at Cyrus’ statement. She pushes off of the bed and leans forward to look more clearly at Cyrus.

“You were defending her being with me?”

The young man to your side gives a quick “mm-hm” noise.

“I don’t think you’re bad for her or anything,” he admits. “I don’t know exactly what goes on between you two, but I trust that you’re good to her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have even gone after you. Right, Ten?”

You glance at both Lav and Cyrus and notice they’re now staring at you expectantly. You’re not sure how to process this attention from both of them at once. It’s a bit more stressful than you expected. But, you know you have nothing to be worried about. They both want to make sure you’re okay, right? They both really like you. But again, you just have a bad habit of being flustered by things like this so easily.

“Right,” you finally answer, trying to bring a smile to your lips. You don’t want to be embarrassed around them. You want to enjoy this. It’s nice to talk with them. And maybe having a discussion like this can help put both their minds at ease. Cyrus won’t have to feel guilty about having sex with you, and Lav won’t have to feel so bad about potentially losing you. You’re not really going anywhere.

Granted, you’re sure that it’s going to be a challenge if you’re ever ready to have a relationship with either of them. But Cyrus had mentioned partners before. Plural. Is that something people normally do? You’re not exactly sure.

“Hey, you alive over there?” Lav’s voice snaps you back to. “You’re zoning out a little. What’s up?”

“N-nothing,” you answer her sheepishly. “I dunno, I do that a lot. My bad.”

“Are you worried?” Cyrus asks, glancing at you with a light frown. “You can be honest if you need to be.”

Worried? Of course you’re always worried about something. But you’re not exactly ready to talk about relationships with them right now, so you opt not to discuss it. That’s something you’ll likely have to sort out later. For now, you try to think of anything else you can mention instead. It’s then that Violet pops into your mind. You mindlessly say her name, making both Lav and Cyrus look at each other worriedly.

“Ten, she probably won’t find out about what you did,” Lav tries to assure you. “You act as if we’re going to gossip about it or something.”

“I know you won’t,” you answer quietly. “Really, she’s the one who told me to come check on Cyrus to begin with. I think even she knows he was getting a little closer to me. She did sort of ask me not to mention anything we talked about or did here. So…”

“She guessed and was right,” Cyrus finishes for you when you trail off. “I guess it was a bit selfish of me to do this knowing how it’d hurt her. But like I said, she doesn’t have to know.”

He glances over at Lav and again rubs the back of his neck. “I did sort of say the same about you, Nine. Sorry.”

“You figured I wouldn’t find out?” The young woman questions with a raise of her brow. “I’m sure I would have eventually. Besides, you figured us out too.”

“Well you were dropping some weird hints the other day,” Cyrus lightly laughs. “I’m not oblivious, just willing to look the other way. Besides, you talked a lot about her. You don’t talk much about anyone that way.”

Lav smiles. “I guess I did. But it worked out. Even with all of us being in on the loop with what we’ve done, there’s no harm done. Not really.”

You turn to the young woman curiously. “Nine, you really do feel that strongly about me?”

She pauses a minute to look at you, but eventually gives a light “yeah” in response. This makes you smile as well.

“I figured you always had some interest in me,” you tell her. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so thorough about how you felt earlier. It took me by surprise. To be told not that you just love who I am, but that you’re sexually interested in me.”

“Was that too much?” Lav asks worriedly. “I’m super sorry if-“

“No,” you shake your head. “I do want to be more open. I’m flattered that you really like me that way, and I do really enjoy spending time with you. I’m still shy about sexual topics at times. But I know it’s important to know what I want out of anything I do.”

You then turn your head back forward and look on at the stage. “If I’m being honest with both of you, I really like you guys. A lot. I’m grateful for the things you’ve done for me, and I’m happy that you’re here with me now. I feel guilty that I’ve done hardly anything to return the favor. But, that all said, I’m afraid of inciting competition or something. I want you both to stay close, and I want to be close to you too. I don’t want things to come between us, but I feel like I have to cautiously step around others because I’m so afraid of hurting other people. Maybe I am like Cyrus in that way. But the thing is, it seems like it’s just really hard to please everybody. Someone will always end up hurt no matter what. The best you can really do is just be there for them, right?”

You sigh.

“More than anything, I just want everyone to be on the same page and be willing to get through conflicts in a sound way. I hate fighting, and I especially hate the idea of being the reason others fight. I hated being a scapegoat for Violet because of all her personal issues. I tried really hard to be patient with her. Even now, she still seems to have her own thoughts about me, but she doesn’t want to be mean to me any more than I want to be upset at her.

“So I don’t want anything remotely like that from you guys either. I know you’re smart about how this works. I know you’re careful and you’re able to stop yourself and think before you act. Even with how you might be feeling, you can still avoid letting those feelings drive you. I’m proud of you for that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still feel that way. So then I wind up feeling bad knowing there’s nothing I can do about it. Even if now we’re just enjoying our time messing around, what if I do decide one day I’m ready for a relationship? Then what?”

You put your head down on your arms which are folded over your knees, resting your chin on one.

“Maybe it’s just me overthinking, or thinking too far ahead. And anyway, it’s my burden. For now. But that’s how I really feel. I do love you both. You mean so much to me. I don’t wanna feel guilty for messing around, but I don’t want to hurt anyone either. It’s a little complicated, I guess.”

“Well…relationships of any kind are often complicated,” Cyrus remarks once you’ve finally said your piece. “Friendships, partnerships, or otherwise. It’s always a lot of work, a lot of effort. There’s bound to be conflict here and there. But it’s how you get through that conflict and your ability to do so that really matters.”

“Right,” Lav agrees with a sweet smile. “Ten, it’s not easy. Of course not. People’s feelings and reactions to things are ultimately unpredictable, even if you really know who they are. People are equally as complicated as relationships with them are. But those relationships require an effort that you both have to make. Most everyone here has made the effort to understand you, for example. You in turn have always tried to be kind and respectful of them. Regardless of what it is you know, what you’ve experienced, or what you’ve felt. It’s been a bit rough for you. But even so, you’d consider them close friends, right?”

You say nothing but give a light nod.

“You work as much as you can to be there for others as they’re there for you,” Lav goes on. “Even someone like Eight or Violet you’re willing to consider friends. You put in the effort to know them despite the frustrations it gave you, and they in turn took the effort to understand you even a little to a point that they willingly got out of their comfort zones to do it. So see? It’s work. But you’re mostly happy with everyone here. You enjoy being here with them.”

“And with us,” Cyrus adds. He brings a hand to your upper back and leaves it there warmly. “Neither of us can change how we feel, Ten. What happens is up to you. But we’re not here pressing you to do anything for us or be anything for us. So don’t feel like you have to try too hard. We like you for who you are.”

“And besides, I don’t think I could ever stop being close with Cyrus,” Lav chuckles. “We’re still friends. I think he’s a sweet, grounded guy.”

She playfully strokes her chin. “Not too bad in the face either.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Cyrus jokes with a straight face. He then shifts his gaze to you and drops his hand away. “Anyway, she isn’t wrong. We’d still be close. I’ve told you how much I enjoy talking with her, and how much I respect who she is and what she does. We’re fine. Right, Nine?”

“Sure thing, chief,” the young woman to your right answers casually. “Anyway no, you can’t really please everyone or cater to their interests all the time.”

You blush. “I do still feel bad that we didn’t get to do anything the other day.”

“And I feel bad that I got you in trouble,” Lav retorts without hesitation. She frowns. “I don’t want to be stupid with you and make things worse, you know. I should have been more careful.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” you remark. Still, Lav gives a shrug. She then leans back against the bed.

“Anyway, forget about it,” she tells you. “We can still try another time if you want. That’s not a problem with you, is it Cyrus?”

“You’re asking my permission like you need it,” the young man to your left raises a brow. “Nine, I care about your happiness just as much as anyone else’s. If being with her makes you feel good, do what you want.”

“Hey, don’t go assuming what I’m going to do,” you criticize both your companions with a light pout. “I get a say here too.”

Both Cyrus and Lav pause hearing you say this and give quick apologies. You admittedly start to regret calling them out so suddenly. But now that they’re apparently willing to accept that both of them have their own attachments to you, it’s starting to make you feel like you’re between their conversation, not part of it. You want to be included. You want to be close to them both.

“Sorry,” you apologize for being a bit snappy. “Just…as far as my personal feelings go, I need time. But remember that it’s not just you two making decisions about me on your own. I’m a part of this conversation too. I get to say what I want to do with my own body, just like each of you. Nine, you more than anyone know how important that is. So please respect that of me.”

Strangely, Lav smiles at you.

“I’m happy that you’re being a lot more diligent about it,” she remarks. “You might not think anything of it, but you’re really changing. Even if you still struggle with being forward, I think you’re really starting to grab a hold of your own reigns, so to speak.”

She offers her your hand, and though you hesitate, you do take it. Once she’s holding you, Lav goes on.

“I’m really proud of you, Ten. I know I said that before. But I do mean it. This place is a hellhole. We need to be firm about who we are and what we want or else we’ll drown here.”

In your focus on her, you hadn’t realized Cyrus starting to reach over as well. You’re startled slightly by the feeling of his warm palm over yours. He gently takes your other hand, and with your arms now both being moved away from your knees, you sit up a bit straighter. Both your hands are embraced by each of your companions now.

“And we need to be honest about how we feel, and what makes us happy,” Cyrus adds with a gentle smile. “It’s something I need to work on myself.”

You blush wildly at the two fawning over you and wind up pulling your hands slowly away. You bring one to your cheek and continue to feel how hot your face is becoming.

“I’m feeling super flustered,” you admit, pressing your knees together. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Just be casual about it,” Lav laughs. “It’s no big deal. We’re just hanging around, right? Think of it that way.”

“I know, but…You guys worry so much over me. You do so much for me,” you remark, exhaling just slightly as you speak as if to laugh. “I feel like I owe you. I don’t usually like being the center of attention or feeling like I’m hogging things. I want to contribute. I wanna be more active and do stuff for you too. Both of you.”

“Both of us, huh?” Lav’s smile drops slightly as she repeats your words, and she looks away a moment as she processes this. You’re led to assume she’s disappointed somehow, but you aren’t entirely sure. Given her initial reaction to seeing you and Cyrus together, you wouldn’t be too shocked if she’s still holding onto some of the initial letdown. But eventually, she bites her lip.

“Um, well…there is something we could try,” she mutters, as if hesitant to speak up. You’re surprised by the gesture, never knowing her to hesitate this way. You and Cyrus both look over at her curiously, and the young woman merely shrugs in response to your questioning stares.

“It’s not something I think you’d be comfortable with though,” she presumes in advance, almost dismissing the idea entirely now. “Nevermind.”

“Huh?” You raise a brow. “You’re acting really weird.”

You suppose it clicks for Cyrus, since his eyes slightly start to widen after he’s thought about it a bit. He glances over at Lav and parts his lips, but nothing comes out for a moment. After a confusing silence, he asks,

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

You pout again. “Okay, you’re doing it again. What’s up with you two?”

Neither of them really answers you right away. Rather, they look on at one another, glancing at each other with worry before looking back at you in unison.

“Um…well,” Cyrus hesitates to speak. “You know how I said ‘partners’ earlier? You know, plural?”

It finally clicks for you, and your eyes go wide. You’re not exactly sure how to take this suggestion now. You’re definitely shocked. But are you disgusted too? Intrigued? Confused?

“W-what?” You stammer, turning to look at Lav. “All three of us? Why would you suggest that?”

Lav rolls her eyes around as she speaks. “Well…you did sort of seem like you wanted things to work between all of us. I figured maybe posing that as an option would give you a chance to see how it feels. Maybe doing that would put your mind at ease about pleasing one of us or the other. Or at least remind you how much we both really want to make you feel good just as much as you want to make each of us feel good.”

She then shifts her amber gaze onto you. “But most of all, I guess I just wanted to…I don’t know, make you feel better? I would be lying if I didn’t say I’d be getting some enjoyment out of it too, but I think even with the progress you’ve made, you’re still being a bit conservative about your own feelings and your own body because you don’t want to hurt either of us. I do think it’d be worth it to try. The only problem is whether or not you two really want to. But really, it was just a quick suggestion.”

Lav looks over at both you and Cyrus now, remaining silent after explaining her reasoning. You can’t grasp the idea of being in arms with both of them at once. The concept doesn’t exactly strike you as bad. It’s not one you negatively associate with, at least. But your only experience with multiple partners was with doctors who, despite being bad people, knew a bit more about what they were doing, sexually speaking. They were all mostly on the same page. Lav and Cyrus don’t seem like they’d be willing to touch one another, unless you’re mistaken.

“I dunno, Cyrus?” Lav questions with a shrug. The young man to your left merely looks away and scratches the back of his head.

“I…don’t have a problem with it really,” he eventually admits. Sexually speaking, this surprises you little. He’s the type to be open about this kind of thing when he has no reason not to be. But emotionally, you have no idea if he’s genuinely okay with the concept of “sharing” you. You got the impression from him that he held a closeness to you that you aren’t entirely sure he’d want for himself, but feel he might. Besides, Lav and Cyrus are quite different, sexually speaking. Lav seems to like being more overtly sexual. Maybe even a little flirty if you let her be. Cyrus, meanwhile, seems more attuned to intimacy, even if he doesn’t notice it. The two sort of conflict.

“I wasn’t really expecting you to suggest it though,” Cyrus goes on, dropping his hand back into his lap. He glances over at Lav and frowns. “If you really want to give it a shot, I wouldn’t much mind it. But my focus right now isn’t exactly…you. Not to sound mean or something.”

“I know.” Lav smiles. “I want her to feel good too, you know. I guess you and I are both on the same page there. But I know you guys just got together, so maybe it was a bit out of place for me to suggest it. That’s why I kind of hesitated despite letting the words slip out. Ten, I’m sorry if it freaked you out.”

You blush, and shift your knees back down so that your legs are outstretched on the bed like Lav’s. “I don’t dislike being with either of you. I really don’t. But I don’t know much about being with multiple partners.”

“Then say no!” Lav laughs casually, her tone light. “You know you can use that word with us. We’ll actually listen to you when you say it.”

She’s not understanding you, but you don’t know how to exactly phrase it. You’re admittedly curious to try, but you’re concerned over how it’ll go. Will it cause more problems between you all? Will one get more attached than the other? What about the style of intimacy? The two are so different, you have no idea how they’d even incorporate it. And, more importantly, would they be touching each other as well as you? You can’t precisely picture it.

“I’ve never done this before,” you opt to say. “I’ve never even thought about being with you two together, sexually speaking. I don’t know. How does it even work?”

“You’ve got me there,” Cyrus gives an amused breath. “I’ve read a little bit on it, but I’ve never experienced it myself. In this place, you don’t usually take the lead when there’s multiple people involved. And I’ve never really…been in a position where I’ve had to guide anyone that way.”

“I’m honestly on the same boat,” Lav admits, smiling to herself. “I’m able to take charge when it’s with another person. But every time I’ve been in this situation, I’ve been rendered helpless, or expected to be utterly submissive. If we were to do this…it’d be sort of a first for each of us. We’d all be contributing something. We’d all have to keep an eye on each other and see how we feel. It’s like some weird trust exercise, except with your bodies.”

She amusedly laughs. “I guess that’s a stupid way to put it, but that’s the easiest comparison I can make.”

Cyrus looks worriedly over at you, realizing you’ve not responded for a while.

“Ten, sorry if we’re being too forward all of a sudden,” he apologizes. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in and a bit embarrassing for you. It’s easy to talk about for me and Nine, but we know you’re a little shyer. We can talk about something else if you want.”

Of course you can say no. It’s not something you’re used to, and you have the right to say you’re not ready. The fact that both of them seem willing to give it a try so casually at all is just jarring to you. However, you admit that getting to feel good with two people who really cherish you would be satisfying. Even if it’s undoubtedly going to be a messy and awkward experience, isn’t the point just to be together? You wonder if it’s a little fucked that your idea of togetherness could be having sex with people so casually. Are you just addicted to the attention? Are you in the wrong?

You don’t want to believe that’s the case. You want to enjoy yourself where possible, knowing how awful things can be here. You’d rather not use sex as something of a dependency. Of course you would rather save it for special moments. But now more than ever, you have a chance to do this. Now that you know the others are genuinely preoccupied, maybe it’s worth it to let loose a little. Now that Lav is okay with things, and knowing Violet won’t bother you because she’s opted to let you have time with Cyrus, maybe you are safe. Maybe you can be a bit more open without remorse.

Cyrus gave you a sweet experience. An intimate one that made you feel loved. Lav on the other hand seems more open and sexual. She’s willing to go further with sexual intimacy than others. Even Cyrus seems to really enjoy the sweeter side of things, despite openly saying he could be a bit more sexual if his partner really wanted it. The guy’s a people pleaser. He wants what he wants, but he’s willing to give what he can.

Lav is a bit forward, you admit. But that openness is only because she’s so comfortable with her own body. She wants others to experience that same thrill and self-love. You’ve shown her a willingness to try it, so maybe she’s nudging you curiously to see if you’ll accept without really expecting you to. You don’t necessarily take issue with it. You do want to be open about your body too. As ever, you know you can’t match her own openness, but you can certainly reach a point where you can safely say “I want to be touched this way” without remorse. You’ve already gotten over a small hump of hesitancy by being sexually intimate with Cyrus. And you do want Lav to feel good after saying you wanted to give being with her another try. But Is she really okay with doing this? Then again, if she weren’t, she’d never have suggested it.

You realize their main hesitancies stem from pleasing or displeasing you. Just like you often fear of hurting others, they don’t want to hurt you. They keep apologizing about being too forward the way you apologize for doing what you want. You almost want to laugh thinking about it now. You’re all really just trying to step over each other and all you end up doing is crashing into one another.

You shake your head subtly after a long silence.

“It’s okay,” you assure them with a light smile, though your gaze remains affixed to the stage. You remember seeing Lav and Cyrus fighting each other in your dream here, before the awful thing you don’t want to think about right now happened. You remember thinking they seemed happy together. Now having heard what each of them had to say, you know they will be no matter what. They’re not fighting over you, they’re not against one or the other being with you. They love you, and they love each other. Maybe what’s between them isn’t exactly the same kind of love they express for you, but it is a closeness you’re aware of now.

You don’t really know how you feel about a relationship with anyone right now. Today has assuaged many of your fears, your hesitancies, your worries. That said, Cyrus wasn’t wrong in saying that you still need time for this kind of thing. He’s struggling too. He’s trying to understand how he feels amidst all the things he’s felt for the only other girl he’s loved and is still feeling now. You can’t imagine it’s easy for him. You can’t replace someone like Jade in his heart, and you wouldn’t ever try. But Cyrus is still trying to make sense of his feelings despite knowing what’s likely best for him.

Lav, conversely, seems to know just what she wants, but doesn’t want you to rush your own feelings. Five and Six had once said that some people just move faster than others. But, you know Lav. She’ll wait patiently for you. And even if the answer ultimately ends up being no, she’ll still love you.

“I guess it uh…wouldn’t hurt to try,” you finally give your answer. “I am a little curious myself on how it’ll go. Even if it’s awkward, I still care about you guys enough to put effort into this. Even if things don’t work out, at least we can say we did it. We wouldn’t have to make so many guesses about how we feel about it. If that makes sense.”

Lav widens her eyes slightly. “You’re sure?”

You nod. “I’m still shy, but I am sure. I have a lot of reasons for saying yes. Feeling good is admittedly part of it. I’m sure none of us three can say we don’t like how sex feels when it’s with someone we trust. But it’s more than that. I want us to understand each other. Because if we do this, we’ll learn more about each other than we ever knew. I’ve already gotten to know certain sides of both of you. But this will be entirely different.”

You close your eyes. “But no matter what, nothing changes between us, right? We’ll still be like how we are now?”

Your eyes open again when you feel Cyrus’ hand on your shoulder. He smiles at you.

“Right.”

You return his smile with one of your own. Lav touches you as well, placing her hand on your other shoulder. She gives a nod to your question, trying to be reassuring.

“Ten, we’re still close friends,” she says. “This changes nothing. Even if one of us decides we don’t like it, that doesn’t mean we don’t like each other personally. It just means it didn’t work out.”

“And this isn’t something we’d be doing to decide anything,” Cyrus adds. “It’s just a bit of fun, I guess. But it’s also a way for us to be connected. It’s going to be new for all of us. But it might be rewarding too.”

He shakes his head. “But consider that Nine and I are mainly willing to do this because of you. For you. You’re our main focus right now.”

You look down sheepishly. “Do you guys not like each other that way?”

Cyrus and Lav both look at one another for a moment, then back at you.

“I won’t say I feel the same way for Cyrus as I do you,” Lav admits openly. “But I do love him. And I’m comfortable being this way around him.”

She again glances at Cyrus and laughs. “Sorry, Cyrus. Hope you can forgive me.”

Your male companion smiles a bit. “Hey, it’s fine. I get it. I guess it just means we’re connected, but not involved. Make sense?”

“So, you feel more for me?” You ask them both, blushing. “Oh gosh…”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lav laughs. “Ten, we love you. Don’t think so hard about it. There’s no strategy or rationale to this kind of thing. You just feel, whether it’s physically or emotionally.”

You bring a hand to your face again. Your skin is utterly warm now with how flustered and flushed you are.

“You guys are too much,” you sheepishly comment. “But…I’m glad. Thank you for everything.”

Cyrus says nothing, but laughs to himself a little for a reason you’re not sure. However, Lav’s voice chimes in before you can stop to think on it a bit. She drops her hand from you and folds her arms.

“Okay, so, we’re all on the same page, right?” She asks. You and Cyrus nod. “Then we need to set some boundaries first and foremost. That’s like, rule number one.”

“According to what guide?” You joke. “Or is it one of those unspoken rules?”

“Wrong!” Lav calls out. “It’s absolutely a spoken rule. Scream it at everyone you fuck if you have to. Boundaries are important!”

“Oh god, she’s yelling,” Cyrus scoffs. “We’re fucked.”

“Cyrus, you think it’s funny?” Lav scowls ever so slightly. “Then you go first. Give us the terms of your pleasure.”

“Don’t phrase it like that!” You blush. “Honestly!”

This makes the young man beside you chuckle. “Look, I’m not picky. But I guess if anything, I’d rather you not touch anything behind me, you know? I just had a visit with Jonathan. Not really in the mood.”

“I actually kind of forgot,” You admit with embarrassment. “Do you usually not like that stuff?”

“Depends,” Cyrus lowers a brow. “But definitely not right now.”

“Psst, buddy,” Lav whispers from across him. “You can say ‘ass’. It’s fine.”

“Don’t push me,” is the young man’s blunt reply, though he ends up chortling slightly after making it. Lav then points to you.

“Ten! What are your preferences in this case?” She questions, taking you aback. You knew this was coming, but you’re still a little embarrassed about speaking up so easily. It was one thing to work up to your boundary-making with Cyrus. That was an easier, one-on-one conversation. This is between two people, even if they’re people you know will listen.

“Um…!” You struggle to speak. “Uh…don’t be rough? And don’t touch my stomach. Or my neck, unless you’re using your mouth or something.”

Your face remains beet red with how much you’re speaking up about it. You’re trying hard to be upfront like Lav, but it’s too much to do without your words melting into stammers and lost trains of thought.

“A-and you?”

Lav looks up in thought for a moment before leaning forward to look closely at Cyrus.

“Well, for me, I’d rather not have you inside of me,” she admits. “Look, you’re a nice guy and all. I trust you. I’m sure you’d feel good and everything, but I’ve been taking too much from all the men here. I don’t dislike guys, I don’t think. But I’m not much in the mood for all that male penetration business right this moment. So just focus on her this time. I’m honestly satisfied even being here with you. Um, for now.”

She lightly blushes. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind,” is Cyrus’ response, though you notice even he seems a bit bashful in response to Lav’s strange, flustered response. “So is that it?”

Lav gives a bit of a nod, but you still hesitate. You’re not sure what else to say at first, but eventually do mention one concern you’ve been holding onto this entire time.

“How are we going to do this?” You finally ask. Cyrus and Lav both glance at you with a bit of confusion, so you try to be clearer, even for as awkward as it is to. “Um, I mean…Cyrus, you’re more gentle. Lav seems a bit more honest and forward about what she wants. I’m not sure how you guys want to do this. More intimately, more raunchy, or….something else?”

“Well, we do what feels natural, really,” Lav gives her answer, unintentionally mimicking Cyrus’ words with you earlier. “I’m not gonna be here doing really dirty talk or something, knowing you’re more into the softer stuff. I’m still gonna wanna touch you if you let me. Otherwise, It’s one of those things where we need to really communicate as we go. Or at least give each other hints with looks or actions.”

“We all have a small idea of what each of us likes,” Cyrus adds. “But yeah, just be open and tell us if and when you want to switch things up or what you want or don’t want. It’s no different than what you and I were doing, only we just have someone else in the mix whose needs and wants we also have to listen to.”

Hearing this doesn’t much help you understand what to do, but you still want to give it a go.

“Alright,” you tell the both of them. “But I’d rather we not do this for very long. I’ve still got energy and all, but since we’re new to this, maybe we shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Agreed,” Lav says with a nod. “I wasn’t really expecting you guys to even say yes to this. But it’s better we take it a little slow since it’s new for all of us. Besides, it’s more me and Cyrus helping you out, Ten. The hardest part of this will really be him and I being on the same page with you.”

“There is actually another thing we should probably go over,” Cyrus mentions as he thinks on it a moment. “Ten, I know with me you said you didn’t want to undress because you were worried about being caught suddenly. Do you still want us to work around you with our clothes on?”

You ponder this a moment. The others seem as if they’re wholly occupied. If anything, your biggest concerns were Lav and Violet. Lav’s here now with you, willing to be intimate with you alongside Cyrus. Violet, from what she said, is likely occupied. The others are too. Is it worth the risk?

No—more importantly, is it something you’d be willing to do? It’s one thing to be naked for one person. In context with someone like Cyrus, it’s intimate and personal. This is probably the case even with both your companions, but it isn’t as if your being naked together in this particular instance wouldn’t also be inherently sexual. With Lav, you know she’d enjoy seeing your body just as much as touching it. You wouldn’t much mind it. But would that spoil Cyrus’ own vision of you?

Maybe you’re overthinking it. You’ve been asking question after question for so long this whole time. You have the right to think on things, sure. But you’re being too analytical of something that lies inherently in things that aren’t really logical. Love, sex, passion, romance, desire, emotion—sometimes none of these things make sense. It’s something you have to really feel more than anything.

So, what do you feel?

“Um…” you mumble, toying with the fabric of the bed beneath you on either side of your body. “I think we’ll just see where it goes. If the others are really so busy, maybe it might be okay.”

You sheepishly glance at Cyrus and frown. “Sorry. I should have considered that with you. I’m sure you wanted to see me.”

Cyrus shakes his head slightly and attempts to reassure you. “It’s alright. You wanted it that way, and I wanted you to be comfortable. But if you’ve changed your mind, it’s not a problem. Sometimes that happens. If I changed my mind about something myself, you’d listen, right?”

You nod.

“Ten, don’t apologize so much,” Cyrus goes on, slightly laughing. “I’ve told you plenty of times how open I am. I want to be trusted and I want to be considerate.”

“I guess I do overthink it,” you lightly reprimand yourself, verbalizing your earlier thoughts. “I’m still embarrassed, but it’d probably be easier to do all this without clothes. Plus…”

Suddenly, you struggle to really say what you want to aloud. You’re not sure why it’s so awkward for you, but you try to push the words out.

“…You guys have nice bodies. They’re worth seeing.”

Lav gives a bit of a soft chuckle. “Your body’s not so bad either, you know. I know it’s awkward for you, but a body’s a body. No matter how it looks. Even if it’s all scratched up or pudgy or spotty—it really doesn’t matter. Bodies are nice and warm.”

She smiles. “I’d really like to see yours. But if you change your mind, then no big deal. ‘Kay?”

You realize then that Lav really hasn’t seen much of your body. The only time you can recall ever being close to nude around her was back in the showers after swimming with several of the other Numbers once.

“Okay,” you agree, slightly trying to smile for her. You then address both Numbers sheepishly. “Um, so…how do we start this?”

“How do you want to?” Cyrus answers with a question. “If you wanna take it slow, we can start with what you’re familiar with.”

“Kissing?”

Cyrus nods, giving a light “mm-hm” noise. He then chuckles a bit, nodding his head toward Lav. “Hey, I’ll be polite and say ladies first, though. If you want.”

You’re taken aback by his offer, but you don’t exactly say no to it. Conversely, Lav dramatically and daintily places her hand on her chest and speaks in a posh manner. “Why thank you, kind sir. I accept.”

She and Cyrus both laugh, and seeing them engage this way helps put a little bit of your nervousness at ease. Without much else to be said, Lav asks you to lay back, and you do, resting against the angled portion of the bed. Gently, the young woman turns to lean herself closer to you and makes her way toward your lips with hers. She pauses a moment as you turn to face her, your face beet red with the proximity of her soft lips and amber eyes. You give her no indication to stop, so Lav continues on and presses herself warmly against you, kissing you sweetly. Both of you close your eyes, enjoying each other’s warmth.

To your surprise, another set of lips presses against your neck, and you realize Cyrus has started to work you in his own way as well. You gasp lightly through your nose at the sensation, your body fluttering as you’re worked by both Numbers. This is a bit more than you expected, even with just kissing. But, you admit, it feels blissful to be adored this way.

Having experienced this with Cyrus already, you suppose you’re not completely clueless. For now, you bring one hand up to Lav’s cheek as she kisses you, touching her sweetly. As for Cyrus, you reach out a bit, hoping he’ll understand what you’re trying to do. Luckily, he does, and he takes one of his hands and places it atop your palm. His fingers worm sweetly between yours as he continues lovingly caressing your neck and cheek with his lips. Lav, meanwhile, lets a few subtle, girlish moans pass through into your mouth. Periodically, she pulls away to suck in a breath, but otherwise keeps at kissing you. In turn, you kiss her back, just like before. Your face remains ever red, your body feeling lighter and lighter the longer you’re worked.

After a while, Lav pulls back. The both of you open your eyes, and her soft face is the first thing you see. Lav’s amber gaze is tender and enamored. Even her cheeks are a bit reddened herself. You’re able to tell how much she’s enjoying even just this with you.

Your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath and stare at her. Cyrus continues to work you himself, allowing you and Lav the time to do whatever it is you like. For now, you presume he’s going to remain on the side and allow Lav to have her turn with you. Perhaps it’s out of courtesy, but you figure he also wants her to have a shot after losing it last time.

“Is it okay if I start touching you?” Lav asks, practically whispering with how low and soft her voice is. It highly contrasts the forward tones she’d taken earlier, even if they were meant to be over-the-top. Still, you give the young woman a nod, though feel a bit bad for neglecting to ask if she wanted your touch too when you’d already started touching her face with your hand. Luckily, she seems not to have minded it.

You figure Lav’s idea of touch is going to be different and more “involved” and sensual than Cyrus’, and you end up being correct. You moan slightly as you feel Cyrus’ lips trailing sweetly down your neck. You squeeze his hand as Lav starts to touch you herself. She turns more on her knees now so that she can lean over your body while using both hands to feel you.

Rather than trailing her fingers or hands sweetly along your body, she starts to caress you thoroughly, pressing her palms and fingers upon your flesh and occasionally squeezing different areas that she lands upon. She avoids your chest for now, but you slowly take hold of her hand and guide it there yourself, indicating a willingness for her to touch you there without having to use words.

Lav pauses a moment after you do this, her face lightly painted with surprise. However, her expression shifts into a bit of a beaming one as she smiles proudly at you for being so open. With your quiet permission, she proceeds to start touching your chest. Whereas Cyrus sweetly rounded the curvature of your breasts, Lav gently presses her fingers into them and cups the things.

You lightly gasp at the sensation of her touch coupled with Cyrus’ relentless kisses of your neck. He’s right at your side with his free hand pressed against the mattress above your head, whereas Lav remains atop you, using both hands to touch your breasts.

“Well, yup. These sure are boobs,” She jokes, making you stop to laugh. Even Cyrus pauses a moment to expel an amused, laughing breath, the air from which hits against your neck.

Lav smiles and gently brings one of her hands to your free one. She lifts it by the wrist and places it atop her own chest.

“You can feel mine if you want,” she murmurs. “Give it a try. They won’t bite.”

“I’d be thoroughly concerned if they did,” you laugh softly. Lav’s admittedly being a bit forward, but you don’t much blame it. She merely knows what she wants, but is giving you the option to say no too. However, you know she needs affection just as much as Cyrus does, and so you’re willing to give it to her. Wanting to try using both hands, you let go of Cyrus and gently caress Lav’s breasts yourself. You find they’re fairly soft and malleable against your fingers, though a little firmer than yours. You can feel her nipples between your digits from behind the thin fabric of her lavender gown, and although it’s a little embarrassing, you are glad the young woman seems to be enjoying your touch. She gives a soft, girlish laugh as you grope her sweetly.

While you touch her, Lav moves her hands down and starts to gently squeeze and rub your thighs. Her touch flusters you, and Cyrus’ adoring pecks that he continues to give you only make your body feel light. It doesn’t much help that he’s occasionally throwing in a few subtle moans of his own here and there. Hearing him and Lav both moan like that only flusters you further.

“So?” Lav questions you expectedly after a while of your playing with her chest.

“They’re, um…nice,” you meekly compliment the girl. She smiles.

“Boobs are often nice,” Lav gives a light jest, again making Cyrus stop to laugh.

“Hey, I’m trying to focus over here.”

Lav playfully shrugs. “Sorry, chief. Can’t help it. But you’re gonna have to try a little harder now, because I might just steal her attention for a bit.”

She turns to you then.

“Do you wanna go a little further?”

You blink a moment, trying to interpret what she means “Um…like how?”

Again, Lav gives a shrug. “I could try using my mouth if you like. Something a little simple. I don’t think you and I ever got the chance to do that.”

Your legs tremble slightly at the thought of Lav being between them. Still, you’re willing to let her make you feel good that way, so you tell her,

“I’d be okay with it.”

Lav gives an acknowledging nod, then moves herself up off the bed and forward so that she can adjust herself by your legs and feet. When in position, she kneels before you and starts to touch your legs. As she does, Cyrus murmurs,

“Here.”

You’re not sure what he means to do at first, but feel him moving his right arm down to attempt slipping it behind you. Seeing this, you move your torso forward, allowing the young man to cradle you this way. He leans ever closer, pressing his upper body up against the side of yours as he holds onto you. Once he’s positioned, you lean back into his arm. He then kisses your cheek just lightly.

“Hold my hands, okay?” He speaks softly into your ear, his breath gently hitting the side of your face. His aqua eyes are fixated on your profile, and you glance over at him as he instructs you. You tremble and blush lightly at the feeling of his warmth and the sound of his voice, but do give a light nod in response. You raise your right arm up and back so that you can grab hold of Cyrus’ hand there. Meanwhile, you move your other arm against Cyrus’ free one, feeling your skin brush against his. You cling to the hand on this arm dearly, though you keep this one dropped on the bed.

“You alright?” He whispers, making you moan a little. Something about his voice right now while you’re being caressed by Lav on your legs titillates you. Cyrus notices your arousal and boyishly chuckles.

“W-what’s so funny?” You ask him, stammering. He merely shakes his head.

“Nothing,” Cyrus says, still lightly smiling to himself. “You’re just turned on before we’ve even done anything.”

“I can’t help it,” you admit, looking away slightly flustered. However, you squeeze both his hands reassuredly and try to look back at his aqua eyes. “It feels good. You both feel good, even like this. I’m just a little overwhelmed by the attention.”

“Do you want us to back off?” Lav asks, having overheard your words. “I can stop if you want.”

“No!” You refuse. “I want it. I do. Please keep going.”

With your consent, Lav nods and continues to gently touch, squeeze, and stroke your thighs. She watches you as well, making sure to gauge your reaction to her movements. Knowing you’re on the shyer side, she takes this slow for you and continues to brush her fingers and palms against your thighs, caressing both the outer and inner areas of them. Your chest rises and falls as you heave in anticipant breaths. You’re starting to want her tongue against you now, but still find yourself enraptured by the slow buildup.

After a while of these sweet, sensual caresses, Lav finally asks,

“Um, hey, can I take these off?”

You realize she means your underwear. You suppose it’d be difficult to do what she wants with them on, so you give her a “yes” and allow the young woman to remove them. With your say-so, she brings both her warm hands up your gown and grabs onto each upper side of your panties. Gently, she tugs them down, and you help her out by pushing the weight of your lower body up a bit to make it easier for her to pull them off. Once they’re removed, the cold air hits your crotch, and you realize you’re slightly wet already. Partly from your earlier activity, partly from even more anticipation of pleasure.

Your breaths become slightly heavier as you feel Lav slowly spread your legs. You move them slightly on your own to help her, but otherwise remain still as she touches you. Despite still being a bit messy down there from earlier, Lav doesn’t much seem to mind. Even if your pussy’s still a bit wet with Cyrus’ cum, the young woman at your legs seems relaxed about it. Or at least, she gives no indication of disgust or hesitance. You’re glad.

Cyrus leans in a little more, speaking gently. “Are you nervous?”

You shift your gaze over to him and part your lips, but hesitate to speak for a moment.

“I’m always a little nervous,” you eventually admit. “Even if there’s no reason to be. You know how I get.”

“Don’t be,” Cyrus bids you sweetly, smiling gently. He leans forward to peck your lips a bit. “It’ll be fine. Try to relax. Alright?”

You blush upon receiving his kiss, ultimately yearning for more. He’s apparently able to pick up on your want of this, as he softly laughs and promptly comes back in to linger on your lips. Perhaps it was the longing look in your eye that he saw, but you’re not certainly about to ask questions about it now. You happily kiss him back, squeezing his hands a bit as you do. You feel his fingers curl against your flesh sweetly in response, making your heart flutter.

As you start to lean back into the mattress and let your lips work with Cyrus’, you’re taken surprise by a light pecking of Lav’s lips on each thigh. You realize that with Cyrus hovering by your face, you can’t at all see what she’s doing. This adds to the excitement of it all, you admit.

Lav maneuvers you delicately, leading up to your crotch slowly. You feel her hands gently rub against the outside of your thighs as she does this, until she eventually reaches her target. Once there, Lav gives your clit a light lick, making you gasp slightly once you pull away from Cyrus to adjust your head. Promptly, the young man returns to your lips, occupying them while you’re endearingly lapped up by your lavender companion.

Just as Cyrus sweetly works your lips, Lav equally works your clit. She licks you slowly and gently, starting with long laps before transitioning into teasing you with the tip of her tongue in an overtly playful and sexual manner. She girlishly giggles a little when you moan desperately into Cyrus’ mouth, though you don’t want these sensations to stop for a moment. For as embarrassing as it’s been to get to this point, now that you’re here, you want to enjoy it. And you certainly do.

Lav toys with your clit using only her tongue. Not once does she bother to use her fingers or enter your pussy with her tongue, but you don’t much mind it. She works you so wonderfully that you could willingly lay like this for a while without an issue. Your body is flustered and hot, and you melt in both your partners’ touches. The warmth of Cyrus’ hands firmly and lovingly gripping yours, the wet, bold strokes and playful flicks of Lav’s smooth, wet tongue, the softness of Cyrus’ lips…it’s just too much.

“I…” you breathe heavily after a while of your tonguing pleasure, after Cyrus pulls back a moment to adjust himself. He opens his eyes hearing you, his cheeks gaining just a tinge of color as he watches your flustered, flushed face. Your grip on his hands tightens as your desire to let go builds deeply in your body. Lav’s tongue toys with you so readily and in so many different ways that it’s unbearable. Coupled with her touching of you and Cyrus’ holding you, you feel as if you’re about to explode.

“I can’t hold on…!”

Driven wild by your lust, you start to buck into Lav’s face eagerly, riding her with long strides as you’re continuously lapped up. Her lips rub against your flesh as you press against her face, and her tongue continues to flick and rub against your clit, not stopping once. Lav’s moans and yours fill the air as she works you. Hearing her voice in such a girlish manner, being watched by Cyrus, and being touched by them both makes your body want to be touched more and more.

You groan more copiously as you reach your peak, sinking your head back into the burgundy sheets of the angled back of the bed.

“Nine!” You squeal, starting to let go entirely. You shut your eyes and cry loudly, moaning and whimpering girlishly as you come into the young woman’s face. Cyrus adds to your pleasure by again returning to your neck, breathing through his nose with heavy exhales as he kisses your flesh eagerly. Lav continues to lick you up and toy with your clit until your pleasure fully subsides. As it does, you gradually lay back and pant slightly to catch your breath.

“How was it?” Lav cheekily asks with a wink after pulling back from your crotch. You don’t have the strength yet to speak words, but give a bit of a weary laugh and smile. Your lavender companion seems to understand, as she gives a bit of a giggle in response. “I’m glad.”

She kisses your inner thigh after she says this, playfully pecking at your flesh. “You’ve really changed, you know.”

“Huh?” You breathe. Cyrus lingers over your neck, but stops kissing you now and instead keeps holding you while you recover. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Lav laughs, wiping her mouth off and sitting up on her knees. “Ten, you were struggling the first time we were together. You had no idea what you were doing and seemed really reserved. I know I had the chance to see how much you’ve changed last time we were together, but we didn’t get to go very far. Now, I’m really seeing how open you are about expressing how things make you feel. What you want, what you crave.”

She shifts her focus to the young man beside you.

“You’ve noticed it too, right Cyrus?”

Your royal blue companion ponders this a moment. After a brief silence, he squeezes your hands.

“I guess a little,” he admits. “But I didn’t exactly have the same experience you did. It wasn’t really consensual then. I had no time to focus on anything but making sure she was okay.”

“I know,” Lav acknowledges this. “But I mean in general.”

Cyrus nods, understanding what she means. However, he lets Lav finish speaking. She again turns to you and smiles.

“You’re learning, Ten. I’m glad I could make you feel good.”

You blush being talked to like this by both of them. It warms your heart that they care so much for you, and that they’re proud of you. You’re thankful for them. Though, you wonder if it’s a little weird to have these tender feelings and emotional talks while you’re in the middle of something so sexual. Is that something people deem normal?

No, it’s better not to overthink it now. You just want to enjoy this.

After fully making a recovery from your climax, you take a look at Lav and feel your heart beating steadily as you see the curvature of her body. You admit she’s pretty, and it’s not something you ever really found yourself admitting before. You always felt she had a pretty decent, athletic body. But never before were you able to say openly that you that you wanted it.

For as little as you want to think of Yosuke, you admit he was right that women have a certain irresistible charm to their shape that makes them alluring in a way far different than men’s bodies. But in your eyes, both have merit. You like the idea of being pleasured by both kinds of bodies. At least you’re able to try it with someone who isn’t Mom. Were she the only woman you ever got to see, you might never have brought yourself to admit you didn’t dislike the thought of being with other women.

You realize then that you’ve been silent a while when you hear Cyrus gently call your name. You blink as you zone back into the conversation, then look at Lav again. With Cyrus, he needed gentle affection and sweet adoration. Lav may need something a little more than that. Nonetheless, you want to make her feel good too.

“I-I wanna return the favor,” you finally speak up, surprising both Numbers. “if that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Lav asks. You shake your head.

“Because I wasn’t sure if you guys were going to work together or take turns while we did this,” you explain. You then turn over to the young man on your left. “Cyrus, you already got to share a moment with me today. I do still want to try something with you while we’re all together, but can I do something else with Nine first?”

“Go for it,” he encourages kindly, finally letting go of your hands. “I’ll just keep touching you on the side if you want.”

You smile look away sheepishly, but admit, “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“So, what do you have in mind for me?” Lav asks, her voice a bit sultry, but definitely over the top enough for you to know she’s just joking around. You give a bit of a laugh at her dramatic gesture. She must have watched enough movies with Blue to be able to mock common behaviors certain characters display. You wonder why she was ever so hesitant to act with the twins if she’s having fun being so over the top now. Maybe it’s because she’s more comfortable with you and Cyrus?

You look on at Lav and give a light shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe I can try using my fingers, if you’re okay with it.”

“I would be honored,” Lav tries again to speak poshly as she had earlier, but she ends up bursting into a bit of laughter over her hokey performance. Cyrus gives a bit of a chuckle as well, amused by his friend’s antics.

As Cyrus removes his arm from behind you, you can’t help but smile at the two of them. You relish their presence, their conversation, them. You’re happy. And, admittedly, you’re still a little bit turned on from your previous activity. But you’re starting to think again about your clothes. You’d said you wanted to see how things go. Now that you’re so comfortable, you think you’re ready to try removing them.

“Guys?” You call out, causing both Numbers to look at you. “Um, before we keep going: If you wanted to take your clothes off, I think I’d be okay with it. I guess it would make things a little easier. Even if we won’t be doing this too long.”

Both Numbers glance at one another again, hesitating to respond to you right away. However, they do turn back to you. Before they can ask if you’re sure, you tell them,

“I don’t want to struggle with this. I’d like to be closer with you, so I won’t mind if we try it. Okay? If I really want to change my mind, I’ll tell you.”

Neither of your friends knows exactly what to say after this, merely looking back at you and each other with uncertainty. However, Lav tries to move things along so as to keep them from growing too uncomfortable.

“If you’re okay with it,” She remarks with a shrug. “We can take it slow like anything else. But um…who wants to try going first?”

She glances at Cyrus with a lowered brow and a coy smirk. “Or is it ‘ladies first’ again?”

“Hey, I was just trying to be polite,” the young man retorts casually, giving a bit of a laugh. “I can go first if you want.”

Lav jokingly scoffs. “What, so you can show off?”

“You wanna make up your mind or not?”

The young woman before you merely gives a hearty laugh, making Cyrus smile.

“Alright, alright,” she says, rising slightly so that she can pull her gown up to her waist. “I’ll go first.”

You watch as she unapologetically lifts up her gown up to her shoulders and pulls it off. The familiar athletic frame of her body is fully revealed to you now: soft, creamy skin, a toned stomach, rounded and supple breasts. Moreover, the curves she does have are much more apparent now that her gown is no longer draping over her hips. As she sits upon her knees in the nude, she looks picturesque and girlish. It’s genuinely beautiful. Even for as much as you’ve struggled to accept her body, you aren’t having much trouble with it now.

Lav bunches up the lavender gown In her hands and holds it on her thighs. She raises a brow when her amber eyes flicker up at you and Cyrus, who have remained silent and attentive of the girl.

“You guys alive over there?” She chuckles. “You’re staring at me all weird.”

She smirks. “Or do you like what you see?”

“You’re being cocky,” you pout. Lav merely gives a bit of a giggle.

“A little. Sorry.”

You then drop your pouting face and shake your head slightly. “I’m just messing around. Um, you have a nice body.”

“I haven’t seen it like this in a while,” Cyrus admits. This makes your eyes widen slightly, and you turn to him with surprise.

“You’ve seen her?!”

Cyrus nods and gives a light “mm-hm”.

“I’ve run into her a few times in the gym,” he explains. “I do run sometimes. So, I got pretty familiar with what she does pretty quickly. And that day we were all playing basketball together, I sort of ran into her first. It just kind of went from there.”

He shifts his gaze over to the nude Lav and smiles. “You have a good body. Way more built than mine, honestly.”

“You could stand to bulk up yourself, hero,” Lav chuckles. “All that time here’s made you all skinny and weak. I mean, no doubt you could probably outrun me, but I could probably beat you up if I wanted.”

Cyrus raises a brow. “You don’t think I can hold my own?”

“Prove you can,” Lav challenges with a grin. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Only if you want!” You add, trying to be flexible. “You know Nine. She jokes a lot.”

Cyrus gives a boyish chuckle. “I don’t mind.”

He mimics Lav’s kneeling position, but doesn’t sit on his knees. Rather, he kneels straight up, having to hunch his torso a bit with the hood of the bed above him. He then starts to remove his shirt, grabbing it by the hem and puling it up over his shoulders and head. Seeing his pale flesh exposed to you for the first time in a long while is jarring. Lav you’re accustomed to seeing naked because she’s been that way quite a few times. Cyrus, however, has a body you’re not quite used to seeing. And, even with just his torso exposed, you find yourself blushing a bit. He’s quite thin as Lav said, but he isn’t in that poor a shape. He’s not precisely muscular like your female companion, but he seems fit.

Cyrus looks down at you with his aqua eyes and frowns. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, looking away. “This is fine.”

“She’s blushing,” Lav chuckles, calling you out. You pout a bit at her, but she remains ever amused by your reaction. Cyrus, meanwhile, gives a soft laugh and hands his shirt to you.

“Here,” he offers. “Maybe holding onto something will help with your embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” You again lie, looking up at the young man with a light scowl. However, you do take his shirt and clutch the fabric tightly. It’s still warm.

“Well, like I said, ‘personal’ is a bit out the window by this point,” he repeats his statement from a while ago. You haven’t really fooled him, but you figured you weren’t going to anyway.

Cyrus reaches down to the band of his pants and starts to pull them down. He doesn’t seem much shy about it, you find. Like Lav, it’s not a big issue for him to undress. If anything, he keeps glancing at you to make sure you’re not about to explode with embarrassment. You suppose you’re the only reason he really holds back so much, but you appreciate his concern for you.

“Huh, so that’s what you look like,” Lav remarks once she sees Cyrus’ body fully exposed to her. Cyrus merely frowns.

“That a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” is Lav’s casual response. She smiles. “Like I said: a body’s a body. I don’t really care what you look like. If you want my honest opinion, you look cute.”

Cyrus again lowers a brow. “Cute?”

“You heard me,” Lav laughs back. Cyrus drops his questioning expression and exhales a bit of amused breath

“I guess you’re pretty handsome yourself.”

Lav beams and sticks out her tongue a bit, responding playfully to the young man. However, she doesn’t verbalize any thanks. She doesn’t much have to.

Cyrus then sits back on the bed and turns his head to you. His smile fades as he sees your flustered face.

“You doing ok? Is that too much?”

You shake your head and try to be reassuring. “Not at all. I mean, I’ve already seen you both like this before. It’s just a little jarring to suddenly be like this again. And together no less. But you’re both really, um…good looking?”

Cyrus gives another laughing breath. “Thank you. But you know, it’s your turn. You can still back out if you want.”

You bring a hand to your cheek nervously and glance down. “Um, right.”

You don’t want to be so hesitant now. You said you wanted to do this, so you’ll do it. Not because your partners expect it, but because you decided to. So, you reach down and lift up the hem of your gown and undress. You’ve done this many times before. It shouldn’t be so hard.

You breathe in deep and slowly pull your gown up over your head. In moments, your ordeal is over, and your body is fully exposed to the other Numbers with you.

“I guess only Cyrus has really seen me fully like this,” you remark sheepishly. “But I’m glad that it’s under better circumstances now.”

“You sound like you’re ashamed of yourself,” Lav notes, frowning. “Don’t be. You’re pretty. And your body is yours, you know? It’s the only one you’ve got, anyway.”

You lightly laugh, but keep your arms crossed. The cold air is starting to hit your bare skin now, and it’s a bit chillier to you now with how warm your body is from everything that’s been happening so far. Cyrus puts a hand on your shoulder and smiles.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he encourages you. “We’re used to this. We won’t judge you.”

You look at him and give a light nod, mustering a smile.

“Um, anyway,” you go on. “Where were we?”

“You were inviting me to embrace your touch,” Lav answers teasingly, raising up and subtly wriggling two of her fingers. You frown disapprovingly.

“If you keep being so cheeky about it, I might just change my mind.”

Your lavender companion smiles to herself upon hearing this, but silently acknowledges you. Without having to sit and wait for you to transition back into things, she starts to move back to the bed beside you. However, she lays down this time, outstretching herself along the flat portion of the bed with her feet closest to you. She nudges your bare thigh playfully.

“You sure you can handle it?” She asks. “You’ve never taken the lead before.”

You blush seeing her bare chest slowly rise and fall as she takes in a breath. Lav’s body is sprawled out so casually by your side, and you can see every inch of her like this. Her panties, however, are still on. Yours are still crumpled somewhere on the floor after being removed earlier. You wind up moving everyone’s clothes near there, placing them in a messy pile.

“No pressure or anything, huh? Look, I’m just returning a favor,” you tell her as you do this, attempting to downplay her statement. “It’s nothing. I just want you to feel good too, that’s all.”

Lav girlishly giggles. “It’s not that complicated. Do what I showed you last time, only with me, not yourself.”

“You taught her how to do that?” Cyrus remarks with surprise. “I wasn’t sure what the hell you were hinting at the other day, but I figured you guys had done something.”

The naked girl beside you nods. “Yup. What, were you gonna teach her?”

“It’s not like I couldn’t,” Cyrus pouts. You blink and recoil a bit.

“Are you saying you would have?!”

“Um…no?”

You’re not convinced, though you opt have a little fun with teasing the guy yourself. “You’re weird. I’m going over here.”

Cyrus laughs as you shift away from him and toward the girl lying beside you . “What did I do?”

As you take your place hovering over Lav’s body, you’re stricken by the sight of her raising her arms up above her head, lavishing girlishly in her place beneath you. She glances up at you in a devilish manner, awaiting your touch of her. It flusters you. You’ve never seen her act like this before, and you aren’t sure how to process it. You’re not much the kind of person to be on top at all, in fact. Even now with her place under you, she’s the one calling the shots. But you don’t mind it in this case.

“Boys are dumb huh?” She teasingly murmurs. Your face is fairly close to hers as you lean your torso over her. A moment ago you were genuinely just joking around, and now you’re face to face with her. Your skin is brushing against hers, your palms flat against the mattress on either side of her torso. It’s bewildering to you how quickly things can shift. However, you’re comfortable with this. A bit flustered, but alright.

“Sometimes,” you murmur back before returning her smile with a subtle one of your own. “Um, I wasn’t expecting to be on top.”

“My bad,” is your partner’s response. She closes her eyes. “I can still guide you from here, you know. But just do what you like. If I want you to change it up, I’ll ask. You can touch me a little firmer if you want, but if you’re still worried about it, soft is fine too.”

“O-okay.”

You reach one hand over to Lav’s neck and try to mimic Cyrus’ initial touches of you when you two were alone. Though, you know Lav’s a little more used to this kind of thing. You figure it’s worth it to try being a bit more forward. She might appreciate it, anyway. So, while you do trail your fingers along her flesh, you also lean in to start kissing her, and you let your hands get a little firmer in their touch. Rather than just lightly trailing Lav’s creamy flesh, you grip and toy with it in your hands. You first start by cupping Lav’s cheek as you kiss her, then move your hand down slowly. Like before, you play with one of her breasts a little, squeezing it gently and rolling your fingers against the soft skin.

Lav gives a bit of a light, subtle moan as she feels your touch, and her noise tells you you’re not doing this as incorrectly as you might think. You’re glad she’s feeling good, so you continue to work your lips against hers while feeling her. You try to work your way slowly down her body, dropping your hand from her chest after a while and moving it down to her hips. You do trail the curvature of her side, feeling how significantly different it is from the straighter body shape you’re used to. You don’t dislike it. You even feel a bit confident in yourself hearing Lav’s eager breaths whenever she pulls away from your lips to adjust her head. Occasionally, you open your eyes just barely only to notice the young woman glancing warmly at you between kisses, but otherwise remain with them closed.

All of a sudden, you gasp at the sensation of an arm slipping under your chest, and a set of lips kissing your nape sweetly. You realize then that you’d left Cyrus hanging a little. But you don’t push him away when you feel him wrap himself around you. However, you do pause a moment to turn your head a bit toward him. He’s hunched over you, his body kneeled atop and against yours.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You’re not gonna…?”

“No,” is his response to your trailing question. He’s apparently picked up on what you meant to ask. “I said I’d just touch you a little while you did this. I won’t do anything else right now. Promise.”

As an assurance, he kisses your cheek sweetly before pulling away. “If you want me to back off, say so.”

You shake your head. “No! Don’t stop. You can touch me how you want. I’m alright with it.”

“Just don’t break her concentration,” Lav jokes from below you, her voice soft now that you’re all in a fairly close proximity to one another.

“I’ll try my best,” is the young man’s equally jesting response. While he balances himself with his right hand against the flat mattress, he uses his other to gently grope your breast, mimicking your own movements with Lav just a moment ago. You moan and whimper just slightly in response to his stimulation, but are wrapped up by the pleasant sensations it brings you.

With everyone positioned as they want to be, you continue on with trying to touch Lav. It’s genuinely hard for you to concentrate with Cyrus still holding you and pressing his body against yours. It was enough to feel his bare flesh on your hands and arms, but now you feel his entire body brushing up against yours. You feel warm and open this way. But you trust him, and he takes care of you in turn, embracing and touching you sweetly.

Lav’s fingers curl anticipantly in her palms as you grope her thighs. You squeeze and massage the flesh of the outer and inner areas of both, one after the other, like she’d done with you. While you touch her, you give a few gasps of your own as you’re worked from behind by Cyrus. Your nervousness and hesitance briefly slips away with his embrace, allowing you to guiltlessly please the young woman beneath you.

Realizing she’s still wearing her panties, Lav shifts her arms down to try reaching for and lowering them for you, just enough to expose her pussy. It’s already a little wet, just by the looks of it. You realize this is the first time you’re really seeing it. The outer folds of her vulva are clean and kempt, if a tinge darker than the rest of her skin. Any of her blonde hairs there are neatly trimmed. It’s a little different from Mom’s, whose crotch is the only woman’s you’ve had to see. Now that you’re with someone who isn’t utterly terrible, you aren’t so disgusted by the sight at all. But it does take a bit of adjustment—you’ve dealt with plenty of penises before, but a woman’s body is different. Even if you have a vagina of your own, it’s not the same to have it touched as it is to touch one. You have to be careful here, and you have to keep Lav’s pleasure in mind.

You glance up at your companion’s amber eyes, and note that the young woman is greeting you with an enamored smile. Her chest continues to eagerly rise and fall in anticipation of your fingers’ touch. You can’t let her down now. You want her to enjoy this.

So, you shakily move your hand down and start to tease her, separating her folds a bit just so that you can reach her clit. The skin past her outer labia is far wetter and pinker. You can’t exactly smell it from where you are right away, but the light, musky odor does eventually emerge.

Lav moans a little as you toy with her clit using your finger. You keep checking her face to see how she’s responding in addition to hearing her moans, but she seems to genuinely be enjoying this.

You gasp a little when you feel Cyrus’ hold your torso tighter against him, his eagerness to please you rising. He seems as enraptured by you as you are by Lav. Even with his sweet cupping of your breast and his gentle kisses against your neck, you still manage to stay focused on pleasuring the girl beneath you.

Lav turns her head to the side and closes her eyes again as you touch her, light breaths escaping her lips as she sucks in air. Her arousal is growing incrementally, and you’re led to assume you’re touching her in a way she likes. You work a second finger into the mix as well after a while of circling and twiddling with her clit, lightly squeezing the thing between both fingers before again moving back into a wriggling motion with both fingertips. This makes Lav’s breaths become even heavier, and you continue with a variety of different motions on her, gauging your partner’s breathy and lusty reactions to your stimulation. She again brings her arms up above her and grips the sheets of the bed, leaning her cheek against her upper arm and letting her chest sharply rise and fall. You wonder if this is how you look when you’re being touched this way. You admit it feels good to make someone feel good, and you can’t say you really hate the noises your girlish partner is making.

“…Ten…” she breathes, making you blush. You’re taken aback by her moaning your name when you’re the one taking the lead. It’s weirdly satisfying, if a tinge awkward for you since it’s so new.

“Stick them in…”

Now that she’s completely aroused, you oblige Lav’s request and start to move your fingers down. She’d mentioned not wanting to be penetrated earlier by Cyrus, but seems willing to let you tease her. You wonder if she’s a bit more favorable toward women. Then again, maybe that was obvious from the get-go.

Once your digits are at your partner’s entrance, you slowly start pressing into her pussy. You go gently, keeping your thumb on her clit and continuing to work it while you finger her.

“Gently,” Cyrus breathes into your ear, guiding you as he observes the movements of your fingers. You squeak a bit as he starts to rub your nipple between two of his fingers in a back and forth motion. “Like this.”

You do as instructed and start to move your fingers in and out of Lav’s pussy, continuing to work her sweetly. She starts to buck her hips gently into your digits, eager to feel more of your touch. As her breathing steadily broadens in pace and depth, Cyrus’ continuous toying of your breast and kissing of your neck causes your breathing to become the same as Lav’s. He breathes through his noise heavily as he works you, the warm air hitting your cheek and ear.

“Ten…” Lav again moans between pants. “…more…!”

You presume she means faster, so you pick up the pace just a little on your fingers. Like you’ve been pleasured before, you start to curl your digits sweetly inside the girl’s pussy, making her moans become longer and more forceful. The slow rolling of her hips against your fingers turn into eager thrusts, and you’re left trying to pick up the pace to make up for her sudden bucking.

After a while of this, Lav finally reaches her peak, and she lets out a loud, pleasured cry from her throat as she comes. Her pussy wraps eagerly around your fingers, tensing up and practically gulping your digits eagerly as she comes. Her noises don’t stop with a single cry either—Lav continues to moan and vocally pant as she finishes up. You almost stop a moment, but Cyrus leans again into your ear and quietly reminds you,

“Keep going. Don’t stop until she does.”

With a light nod, you keep fingering your companion, surprised at how long she’s able to ride out her enjoyment of your touch. It takes a while, but she eventually slows down, and her cries subside into nothing but long, heavy pants of recovery. Her breasts move up and down with her chest as she sucks in and expels breath.

“Fuck…” she finally sighs. “That felt great.”

“So I did good?” You ask. Lav turns her head back to face you and smirks a bit.

“Very. For your first time, anyway.”

She seems to have recovered from her climax fairly quickly. You expected no less from her. She’s just as sprightly now as she was before you even began. She has said her stamina is plentiful, after all.

Cyrus’ lips finally leave your neck, and he gives a soft laugh. The noise from it so close to your ear sends a few shivers down your spine.

“You can take your fingers out now, you know,” he remarks.

Your eyes slightly widen with embarrassment as you notice you’re still inside Lav, and you promptly pull out of her. She giggles a bit in response, amusedly. You sit up a bit, and Cyrus in turn fully retracts from you. Lav, however, says nothing and merely moves herself a bit to your right once she’s free to. She sits up for just a brief moment to fully remove her panties and toss them aside, but otherwise returns to laying back on the bed. After she’s cleared some space on the mattress, she extends one arm out and pats the sheets.

“You’re looking really red in the face, Ten,” she remarks. “Wanna lay down?”

“Why?” You question, unsure of what she’s planning.

“Why?” Lav laughs as she repeats your question. “You’re still in the mood, by the look on your face. And I think it’s time Cyrus had a turn. It’d be bad manners for me to hog you to myself.”

“I’m fine with anything,” the young man behind you says casually, trying not to fluster you. “If you two wanna keep going, you’re free to.”

You smile a little to yourself. “I’m okay with giving it a try. If you’re done, Nine.”

“You kidding?” The young woman raises a brow. “I could do this for a while. But I’m fine with just a little touch, honestly. This isn’t just about me, you know. It’s about all of us. It’s for all of us.”

This isn’t a statement you’re inclined to disagree with, though you do feel a bit bad she hasn’t gotten as much attention from you as Cyrus did. Still, she seems open to you doing whatever you decide, because even if Cyrus is there, so is she.

Ultimately, you choose to join her on the bed. You lean forward from your kneeling position and shift yourself, turning your body and letting yourself lean back into Lav’s embrace. As Cyrus had steadied you with one arm earlier, now Lav’s doing the same. She has one arm wrapped around your back, and is turned on her side and laying to your left while facing you. She moves her other arm forward, preparing to press her hand into the bed by where your hips are. However, she hovers her arm over your stomach, afraid to brush against it.

You glance down at the gesture, but then look back into Lav’s amber eyes and give her a light nod, indicating that it’s okay for her to rest her arm against your stomach. She smiles a bit after you do this, and promptly relaxes her arm over you. Her flesh is warm against yours.

Rather than hold your hand like Cyrus had, Lav cups your shoulder and keeps you close to her. Meanwhile, your eyes wander over to the young man in front of you. He’s on his knees now, looking as if he’s towering above you since you’re laying down. You blush when you see his slightly aroused cock.

“You can’t tell me you’re fine with anything when your body seems a little excited,” You mention a bit hesitantly while starting to look away. Cyrus rubs the back of his neck a bit.

“I can’t really help it, like I’ve said,” he reminds you. “But I guess I also can’t say I’m not exactly…eager.”

“Sorry if it takes me a bit to get used to you being honest about it,” you apologize with a bit of a weary laugh. “When people are usually open about how I arouse them…it’s…you know.”

Cyrus frowns a bit and drops his eyes. However, he refuses to be so morose and instead shifts one leg between yours so that he can come closer to you. He brings his left hand forward a bit and grabs hold of your right one. Gently, he guides your arm back until the back of your hand is pressed against the bed, close to your head. You look up at Cyrus’ aqua eyes, noting that they’re soft and focused on you. He smiles gently, though you gasp just slightly when you feel his other hand gently trailing along your left thigh.

“C-Cyrus?” You say his name with uncertainty. The young man shakes his head subtly.

“Ten,” he murmurs. “I know it’s hard, but you’re safe with us. So you don’t have to be ashamed.”

He leans in to kiss your lips, pecking you sweetly and just for a moment.

“Like Nine said: you have a beautiful body,” he goes on, his voice remaining in its soft state. “I’m happy to know it. Just like you make her feel good, you make me feel good too. Do you want to feel good?”

Your body flutters hearing him speak this way. Even with the sexual nature of what you’re doing, you still feel beloved hearing his words.

“I do.”

Your mind wanders back to your earlier memory that came to you before Lav arrived. You don’t want to think of it now. You don’t want your mind to dissolve into endless questions again when you have more important things going on before you. So you try to push it aside. This comes easily to you when Lav and Cyrus both hold you more tightly in response to your brief expression of acceptance. Lav’s arm brings you ever closer to her body, and Cyrus squeezes your hand tightly.

“So lay back and enjoy yourself a little, alright?” Lav speaks sweetly into your ear. “We’re glad we’re here. We want you to have fun too.”

Her gentle voice and the closeness of her lips only titillates you, and you can’t help but shift your legs around a bit. You’re feeling fairly eager yourself, you find. The promise of again being touched by Cyrus, the warmth of both Numbers’ bare skin, the heat of their breath, the gentle tones of their voices…

Your chest rises quickly as you suck in a bit of a lusty breath.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Cyrus asks, seeing your aroused state. His touch lingers on your thigh, and you become increasingly aware of the sensation of his knee between your legs. He’s nowhere near your crotch, but you want him to be.

“Y-yes,” you tell him eagerly, squeezing his hand back in turn. Upon giving your consent, Cyrus moves his hand further down your leg until it’s by your calf. He shifts his palm towards its underside, then firmly presses his fingers along your flesh as he lifts your leg up and open. He holds you like this as he kneels in closer to you. Meanwhile, Lav starts to move her own hand from the bed and brings it to your labia. She gently separates your folds, allowing Cyrus access to your pussy.

“You’re really wet,” he remarks with a bit of surprise.

“I guess I can’t help being a little ‘eager’ either,” you say sheepishly. “But I feel good.”

Cyrus smiles warmly for you. You notice even now his cheeks are a tinge red, which you find a little endearing. Even now he’s trying to be sweet for you.

“I’m going in, okay?”

You nod upon him saying this, and glance down as you watch him bring his cock closer to you. In moments, you feel his head pressing against the entrance of your vagina, and you moan lightly at the sudden warmth. You realize you missed it, even if you’d just felt it a little while ago when you were alone with him.

You tilt your head to the side instinctively, but are faced with Lav’s soft eyes when you do. You breathe eagerly as you’re slowly pushed into by Cyrus, though you’re wet enough for him to slide in easily now. Even so, it feels good to have him enter you.

With Lav’s face so close to yours, you lean in and start to kiss her, an act which she does not hesitate to return. The warmth of her lips presses sweetly against yours, and both of you wind up closing your eyes as you remain liplocked. You grunt a little as Cyrus finishes pushing into you, and once he’s in, Lav retracts her hand from your labia and brings her fingers up toward your clit instead.

You gasp as you feel her touch you there. In conjunction with being slowly thrust into, it’s blissful. Cyrus sweetly rolls his hips against you, pushing in and out of your pussy slowly at first so that you both can accustom yourselves to one another again. He holds your hand, gripping it as he eagerly breathes against your neck and cheek. He’s aroused by being coupled with you again, especially now that you’re naked beneath him. Even with his lighter, gentler thrusts, your bare breasts still lightly bob about as he takes you. When you periodically crack open your eyes just a little, you notice him staring longingly at you. Not just your face, but your body as well.

Even for as embarrassing as it is, you admit it does make you feel good knowing that he’s getting pleasure from you too. You want him to enjoy himself, just as much as you want to enjoy yourself. Not only does his hungrier gaze leave you lightly flattered, but you’re also a bit titillated by his heavy, aroused breaths that he makes with each thrust.

Lav continues to toy with your clit as Cyrus rides you, and the coupling sensations from both Numbers’ attention of you cause you to moan and whimper into the young woman’s mouth. You continue to kiss one another wetly and warmly, making use of both your tongues and wrapping them around one another.

After a while of merely breathing against the skin of his side of your neck and head, Cyrus finally starts to kiss it gently, and his deep breaths which he expels from his nose hit your face as his arousal grows further. You wind up letting out a light squeak at the feeling of his lips and tongue upon your neck. You’re stuck here now, between both Lav and Cyrus’ mouths, being pumped into and stimulated in all manner of ways. It’s heavenly. You can’t help but moan and whine pleasurably as you’re ridden. It’s unbearable to a point that you have to stop kissing Lav a moment to catch your breath. Your chest heavily and rapidly rises and ebbs as every bit of your body is lovingly surrounded by warmth and affection.

“…Cyrus…” is all you can manage to moan, still breathing too rapidly and deeply to form many words. The young man pumping his cock into you merely squeezes the underside of your calf and tightens his grip on your hand against the mattress as his lust grows. Without words, you try to let him know you want him to go faster. You can’t bring yourself to speak, but do grip his hand tightly and turn your head up to face him again. His cheeks are fairly red, even moreso now than they were prior. His bare chest is puffing out with every heavy breath he takes. He looks utterly enraptured by you, and you can’t help but find his aroused expression captivating.

Sensing what it is you want, Cyrus does pick up his pace a bit more, thrusting eagerly into you and letting moans and groans escape his throat. He again continues to kiss your neck, letting his noises slip into your ears and his labored breaths waft against your skin. Lav follows Cyrus’ lead and places her lips on the other side of your neck, though she stops to nip at your ear a little. She giggles softly and smiles as you let out another squeak in response to her touch. She continues to work your clit, flicking and rubbing it playfully while Cyrus fucks you.

Desperate to hold onto something while you’re ridden, you bring your free hand forward and grip Lav’s wrist tightly, but you don’t want her to stop teasing you. Your longing moans and whimpers continue are both Numbers keep at their pleasure of you. Cyrus in turn lets out more labored breaths and hungry, longing moans into your ear. He’s being even noisier than before. You can’t bear it any longer.

“I…!” you try to get out, though it sounds like a loud gasp more than a word. You can’t muster up the strength to say you want to come, so you merely tilt your head back whimper desperately as you’re fucked.

“You gonna come?” Lav asks sweetly, supposing your intention. Her voice remains low and hushed as she speaks into your ear. Your face is utterly flushed and burning at the cheeks by now. All you can manage to do is nod while continuing to pant and moan. Your lusty noises fill the air, reverberating against the hood of the bed above you. Cyrus doesn’t let up his thrusting pace, though he tries to speak.

“I’m…almost there too.”

His words sound utterly breathy, almost as if he’s whispering them. “Hold on for me, okay?”

You give a whimpering nod as you try to hold yourself together just a bit longer. You want to share your excitement with him, so you wait as patiently as you can. It takes him a little more time, but he eventually starts to gasp and grunt pleasurably.

“Ngh!”

Promptly, you feel his cock throbbing inside you, and his fingers curl even tighter between your fingers. In moments, Cyrus releases a spurt of cum into your pussy, filling you again. Like before, he grunts and moans into your ear as he comes, his pleasure at its peak.

In turn, you allow yourself to let go. You throw your head back even further into the mattress and let out a piercing cry, your body twitching and thrusting eagerly against Cyrus’ body. You whimper and squeal loudly as you come, continuing to buck against Cyrus as your relentless pleasure swells within your body. Even as you orgasm, Lav continues to touch you, and Cyrus’ thrusts persist ever so rhythmically. His quickened pace has now slowed, but he goes on to lovingly grind against you as the last of his cum dribbles into you and the height of his pleasure slowly subsides. He continues to kiss your neck with sweet, slow pecks, all the while breathing heavily through his nose. A few short, boyish moans follow some of his exhales, but he otherwise remains silent as he breathes into your ear.

Eventually you both settle down, and you feel Cyrus slowly start to drop your leg back onto the bed. You remain satisfied laying there, held by both Lav and Cyrus. Lav retracts her touch from your clit and instead folds her arm and brings her hand between your breasts, holding you close. As you suck in breath, the expansion of your chest causes your skin to brush against hers, the sensation utterly warm against your body.

As Lav holds you, Cyrus lays atop you, bringing his free arm under your waist and cradling you gently. He leans his head down beside you, and Lav extends her hand from the arm under your back. She allows the young man to lean his head against her hand, and so she cups his cheek gently as he lays close to you. His breaths remain ever present against the flesh of the right side of your face and neck. It’s comforting.

Nobody makes any further attempts to keep going. Both Lav and Cyrus are apparently able to tell you’re done, so they don’t push you further. Both you and Cyrus close your eyes, relishing in the respite from your activity. Your body remains utterly warm in both Numbers’ embraces. You just might fall asleep like this if you’re left to your own devices.

As you all lay together, you can feel Cyrus’ steadying heartbeat against your chest, as well as his stomach pressed warmly against yours. Even with Lav’s arm having been slid between your breasts, the young man’s body is still able to reach you. His skin is a little damp now, and a bit softer than you thought it’d be. You like the feeling of it against you nonetheless.

You’re not sure how long you lay like this with your companions, but this feels too relaxing for you to want to get up at all. Even with Cyrus still inside you, you want to stay like this. You can hardly think right now with how warm you feel. It’s almost dizzying, so much so that you’re left questioning if you’re even really here. But you are, and you squeeze Cyrus’ hand tightly to remind yourself of this.

“Hey, guys?”

Lav’s soft voice interrupts the quiet, even though she seems like she doesn’t want to. You open your eyes then, realizing they’d grown a bit heavy in your relaxation when they open so slowly . Lav slightly frowns.

“I know you probably wanna be sleepyheads right now and all, but it’s better you don’t. We should really get cleaned up.”

She chuckles softly upon saying this. “Well, moreso you two than me. You’re pretty messy.”

Cyrus’ eyes open as well, and he picks his head up a bit. “Right…it’s better if our doctors don’t see us like this.”

He frowns as he looks on at you. “Especially yours.”

You glance away, but figure this is something you should have considered earlier. You’d been so wrapped up in feeling loved that you forgot where you were for a moment. But, for as much as you despise the idea of having to leave this bed and be reminded again of where you are, you admit that it was all so wonderful for what it was. Messy and awkward for sure, but certainly wonderful.

Lav smiles gently. “Hey, believe me, I’d like to lay here too. But we should get dressed and head to the showers. We’ve been putzing around for so long, the day could end any moment.”

You glance over at her amber eyes and slightly frown. “I’m sorry if you and I didn’t get to do much.”

“It’s no big deal,” Lav remarks with a shake of her head. “I got to see how much you’ve changed since we did anything. And I guess this did help put my stupid thoughts from earlier aside. It’s enough for me.”

You blush, but return her smile. You then look over at Cyrus when you feel his hand finally release yours. He pulls his arm away from your waist as well, and steadies himself on the bed with both hands flat against the mattress.

“I need to pull out, alright?” He questions you. In response, you give a nod and brace for the sensation of his retraction. He does so slowly, making you breathe out a bit heavily with one puff of air. Immediately, you’re left with a sticky, dribbling sensation between your legs. You’d been so focused on Cyrus being inside of you that you’d paid little mind to how slippery you really were down there. Not only that, but you realize you’re sweating just a bit again. All that warmth and all that movement probably didn’t help.

Once he’s out, Cyrus offers his hand again to help you up. You take it and allow your companion to pull your body forward so that you’re sitting up. Lav’s arm drops from your chest as you rise, though she shifts herself up as well now that everyone’s getting off the bed. You glance down at the wet sheets between your legs and frown.

“I guess the workers are going to have a field day cleaning this up, huh?” you note with a bit of embarrassment.

“I’m sure they’ve dealt with worse,” Lav laughs lightly. She reaches forward to grab her gown and panties, then finally shifts out of the bed so that she can stand. While she dresses herself, you look at Cyrus with parted lips, but don’t know what to say now. Rather, he speaks when you fail to.

“You okay?”

You smile. “You keep asking me that like I’m fragile. I’m fine. I had fun.”

Cyrus softly chuckles and grabs you clothes for you. He then hands you your gown, which you take in both hands.

“Force of habit,” he says. “You know how I am.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” you lightly tease as you start to pull your gown over your head. You bring your hands through the holes of each sleeve and tug the remainder of your gown’s hem down until it’s completely on your body. Cyrus dresses as well, taking Lav’s approach and standing up to do so. The young woman, now done shimmying her panties back on her lower body, smooths out the hanging hem of her gown over her thighs and leans over to look at you from over the hood of the bed above you.

“You decent?” She teases with a laugh. She reaches a hand over and offers it to you. With a chuckle of your own you take it and allow Lav to help you up. The sudden shift from being wrapped in pleasure on a bed to suddenly standing in the bright light of the room takes you aback, and you wind up having to squint a little until your eyes fully adjust.

“I feel wobbly,” you remark, squeezing your thighs together and gripping the cold, grey metal hood of the bed behind you. “Honestly, I didn’t really wanna get up.”

“Me either, “ Lav admits, folding her arms. “I really had a good time, you know?”

You blush a bit, a bit embarrassed to be honest. Still, you try to be. “Um…me too. I wasn’t expecting all of this. It was pretty awkward, but it did feel good.”

Cyrus, now fully dressed, gives a bit of an exhale. His hair is a bit damp at the sides of his cheeks where his ears are connected. He looks just a little like he did a while back after Mom got done with him. You blush a bit to think how much effort he’s put into today. You hope you didn’t tire him out too much, since he was so focused on making you come. Though you noticed he’s bounced back fairly easily, whereas you’re still pretty woozy.

“Sex is awkward sometimes,” he reminds you. “Even if you’re used to it. But you know how it is. Anyway, you’ll probably feel loads better after a quick shower. We could always go to the gym or something.”

Lav taps her chin contemplatively a moment.

“Actually, I have a better idea,” she speaks up finally. “Follow me!”

You and Cyrus glance at each other as if to ask what she might be planning, but neither of you seem to know. However, you both oblige the young woman and follow her to the theater entrance. She creeps cautiously to it and awaits the opening of both doors before she pokes her head out. You presume she’s checking if anyone’s around.

Lav soon gives a quick wave as if to signal that you’re in the clear. When you don’t react as quickly as she likes, she takes your hand and walks promptly into the hall, leading you along with her. In turn, you take hold of Cyrus’ hand and lead him as well. It’s a bit of an awkward struggle to really go at the same pace as Lav with how wet you feel between your legs, but you try nonetheless to stay close.

You’re not in the hall for very long, but your eyes do shift over to the gate only to see nobody around. Even the bottles from earlier have been cleared from the floor, so you figure Monica’s either out, or back in the office. Even if it’s the former, you and your partners in crime creep quietly to one of the other doors across the hall, not wanting to raise suspicion. Upon looking up at the label over the door, you realize that you’ve reached the pool.

Seeing the label only reminds you of Violet. You can’t help but feel a little guilty for doing what you did today after establishing firmly that you didn’t want to make any moves on Cyrus just after what happened between the both of them. Still, Cyrus is right that she doesn’t have to know, and it’s not as if Violet isn’t working on moving on. You do want to think positively about this. You’d rather not think your intentions were ill. And if push comes to shove, you can probably talk to her about your feelings rather than hide in fear of hurting her. Maybe it’s better to do it that way, anyway.

Lav continues to lead you into the pool, moving inward into the room until she’s reached the edge of the large, rectangular thing. She then stands beside your right side, with Cyrus standing to your left. He blinks in surprise.

“Why’d you bring us here?” he asks Lav, though his eyes remain fixated on the water before him. You realize neither Number has removed their hand from yours.

Lav laughs as if amused by this question. “To jump in, dummy!”

“Why jump in the pool if we’re gonna have to get out and go to the showers anyway?” You remain just as confused as Cyrus. It’s this question that makes Lav stop smiling. She gives a bit of a shrug.

“Well, think about it,” she speaks up. “Yosuke seems to always know you’re lying about shit. Maybe if you actually have an alibi, you won’t really be telling a lie. If he asks you what you did today or why your hair’s wet, you can just say you were at the pool for a bit. Even if it was just a few minutes, you’d technically be right.”

“I guess so,” you figure. She does have a point. Yosuke has always been overly observant of you, and this has only gotten worse with time. He’s hounded you about so much, and he’s been watching you closely. You’re able to bark back, but you’re still fairly weak at lying to him. Last time you failed to lie to him even when you were technically telling a few truths. But in the end, you failed to convince him. At least with this, there’s nothing really incriminating. And anyway, who’s to say he’ll think anything of it when you were all here today? You could have been doing anything at all.

You don’t much like hearing about Yosuke again after all the good you’ve experienced today, but you guess you can’t much avoid it either. At the very least, you’re grateful thoughts of him didn’t invade your mind too much earlier. And you figure it’s better to think about him again now that it’s over anyway. You have to mentally prepare to see him again.

“So, do you want to?” Lav’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your attention returns to her. “We don’t really have to if not. I just thought it’d be kinda fun.”

You look over at her expectant face and give a light “yeah” in response, followed by a subtle smile. Cyrus, however, squeezes your hand to get your attention. You promptly turn to face him next.

“Were you intending to jump like this?” He questions with a raised brow. “You’re still holding our hands, you know.”

“Hey, she grabbed mine first,” you give a light laugh. “But sure, why not?”

Lav grins. “On three, then. ‘Kay?”

Both you and Cyrus give an attentive nod. With approval from you both, Lav gives your hand a squeeze just as Cyrus had. It’s then that she starts counting.

“Okay. One, two, three!”

Even in the split second after she says it, you notice Lav is the first to jump. Her reflexes are a bit keener than yours, but you and Cyrus follow her just after. Together, the three of you plunge off of the edge of the pool and jump into the water within, making a rather sizeable splash that ends up shaking the gentle stillness of the water and causes it to splash and wade even over the sides of the pool. You squeeze your eyes shut a moment as you plunge deeper into the water, and feel your hands slowly breaking their grasp on Lav and Cyrus.

In moments, you open your eyes again once you realize you’ve stopped sinking. Neither of the two Numbers have bothered to go that deeply into the water and have by now already turned upward to swim to the surface. Not wanting to be left behind, you follow. You’ve been in this pool quite a few times, and you’re no stranger to swimming. Rather than needing to be rescued from a clumsy fall or struggling to breathe as you compete for a win against another Number, you focus on your goal of breaking the surface of the water on your own. You take your time, but don’t dawdle so much that you struggle to breathe. Luckily, you’re able to make it upward after kicking your legs and using your arms to propel your body upward.

After a brief swim, your head breaks the surface of the water, and you again are able to take in a gasping breath of air. Though, your hair gets in your eyes a bit, so you struggle to find the edge of the pool right away. You hear Lav and Cyrus laugh a little at you while you’re trying to blindly reach for the thing. Ultimately, they have to guide your hands over themselves, and you safely grip the poolside with one hand while wiping away your wet hair with the other. When you’re able to see again, you notice both Numbers once more on either side of you.

“Man, that was refreshing,” Lav sighs happily as she leans her back and elbows against the poolside. She tilts her sopping head up and closes her eyes, relaxing subtle tide of the pool you’ve all temporarily created. Her hair looks a bit heavier now with all the water in it. It’s a slightly darker shade of blonde now that it’s wet, and it looks as if it’s being pulled down by the water with how much of her hair there is. Whatever’s actually in the water, though, merely floats about carelessly. “I feel better already. You?”

She turns her head over to you and Cyrus, opening her eyes and giving a cheeky smirk.

“I’m not as sweaty, at least,” you remark with a light laugh, brushing some stray clumps of wet hair out of your face. “I guess this was a good idea after all.”

You look over at Cyrus yourself next. His hair’s sopping wet and sticking to his head and a part of his neck. Leftover water is slowly dripping off the ends and back into the pool. Unlike for you and Lav, his clothes are sticking closely to his body. Though, you imagine it can’t be very comfortable to swim in pants of any kind.

“You know, I don’t think I ever swam with you before,” you note.

Cyrus looks up at the ceiling mindlessly as he leans against the edge of the pool on his folded arms. “No, you haven’t. I’ve mostly been in here alone with Vi. We used to sit by the stairs a lot and talk when we weren’t just swimming around. She’s always liked swimming. A lot of us just never found out right away.”

You look down, though this causes you to notice the skirt of your gown is pooling around your hips as it floats in the water. It doesn’t really embarrass you as it has before. You have no reason to be so embarrassed now after everything you, Lav, and Cyrus just did, anyway. Then again, not like openness has stopped you from being sheepish before.

“Do you um…think you’ll talk to her like that again?” You ask.

Cyrus smiles lightly to himself and remains optimistic. “I think so. She’ll just feel really awkward about it for a while. Enough to avoid approaching me. But I’m willing to be there for her. I do still really care about her and everything. She just needs to remember that.”

He softly laughs. “Then again, she’s probably gonna latch onto someone else. Maybe Eight. If she gets comfortable enough around a person, she can be a little chatty. Not to sound presumptuous, but she might be experiencing that initial spark of joy that she got out of initially clicking with someone before. Even if it isn’t out of what she thinks is a romantic kind of love, she does seem to be enjoying herself a little.”

“Well, I’d rather she be chatty than sad,” Lav remarks, again tilting her face back toward the ceiling and closing her eyes. “I’m happy for her, though. She’s doing better these days. Seems everyone is.”

You frown. “And us?”

“Us?” Lav repeats with a bit of confusion, though she doesn’t budge from her relaxed position or stop to look back at you. One of her eyebrows does raise, however.

“I mean you, me, and Cyrus,” you elaborate with a light shrug. “Are we doing better?”

“Were we ever in a bad spot?” Cyrus asks curiously. “I know there’s been limited communication, and then the issue back in the theater. But I don’t think anything’s been bad enough between us that it needs fixing.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you say with a shake of your head. Maybe you’re not explaining yourself correctly. “My point is: Is this okay? Is what we did okay? Did you guys feel okay doing it?”

“Woah, that’s a lot of uncertainty,” comments Lav with another opening of her eyes. She looks at you again and smiles. “Ten, we had a good time. Don’t worry so much about it. We like you, and we like each other. Easy.”

“I guess…” You feel a bit dumb for asking. But you’ve always been the uncertain type. Especially for things like this. You’re new to any form of love, whether it’s a romantic or sexual love, the love of a friend, or…

“Ten, we care about you,” Cyrus says in agreement with Lav, his words stopping your train of thought. “Nine and I enjoy each other’s company too, it’s just that we wanted to focus on you today. You helped us feel good, and Nine and I worked together to help you feel good. And just because she and I weren’t really touching each other doesn’t mean we weren’t having a good time. We still made the effort together—for you, and with you.”

“It was a new experience for us both,” Lav gives a light chortle. “And really, it’ll be different for other people, so don’t worry so much about getting it ‘right’ or start doubting yourself about it. Besides, I’d rather have picked you two for something like this than anything else. I’m surprised I even got the chance to try it with people I liked.”

“It surprised me too,” you sheepishly admit. “I’m really sorry for being so hesitant about it. I feel like a broken record, but I always end up second guessing myself out of habit. I’m not used to feeling good without guilt or shame. You know why.”

“We know,” Lav assures you, frowning slightly. “Trust me, we know. That’s why we’re so patient with you. We understand. It’s strange, new, scary. But look, nothing will change between us. We can still talk and hang around like normal.”

Lav waves a hand around casually.

“The only difference will be that we can go, ‘oh, hey, I’ve seen you naked and I know how you like to fuck. Anyway, wanna play cards?’. It’s no big.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to stifle a loud laugh in utter giddiness at her casual joke. Cyrus gives his own amused laugh as well.

“She’s not wrong,” he remarks. “Anyway, regarding how you feel about it beyond just sex, I can’t tell you what to do. You feel how you like. But like I said earlier, maybe it’s not the right time to go over that yet. That takes time to fully understand. I mean, for some people more than others.”

“You talking about me?” Lav pouts. Cyrus smirks.

“I’m not naming names.”

“Shut up!” Lav splashes some water at Cyrus playfully, laughing. “Jerk.”

Cyrus gives a bit of a chuckle as he wipes away the water from his face that he failed to shield himself from. “Alright, alright, sorry I brought it up. Anyway, we should probably get cleaned up. It’d be nice to get some fresh clothes on. I’m not much up for swimming after that workout I got.”

“Oh, please,” Lav playfully chides the young man. “You didn’t do much. You could have done more.”

Cyrus blushes a little bit and attempts to downplay this. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean.”

“You run, Cyrus. That takes quite a bit of stamina.” Lav lowers a brow and continues to smirk. “But fine, I’ll stay quiet.”

She makes a zipping motion across her lips, but remains a bit cheeky. You’re shocked to hear these words from her. Not because she said them at all, but because of their implication. You hadn’t really considered Cyrus could go longer like her. He’s always seemed to be relaxed after being with you just once. Then again, he had no problem bouncing back for a second go after a brief rest, nor even after. So you’re not sure now. You’ve known that he runs, but it’s hardly come up in conversation other than once or twice. Besides, the thought of him continuing to pump lovingly into you again and again is a bit much for you to take, and your face grows fairly red picturing it.

The three of you don’t much linger in the pool for long after this coy spiel, opting instead to take a warm shower together. You admit it’s a little awkward to undress even after having just been naked in front of and pleasured by both your companions, but you don’t struggle to do it. In any case, everyone’s busy focusing on their own bodies now, trying to clean them off. Lav has taken a faucet by you, whereas Cyrus has opted to stand opposite of you two on the other side of a small row of faucets. You presume he wants to give you girls some bit of privacy, for as little as there really is here.

At some point, you do turn your head slightly to look back at Cyrus, noting a few fading bruises speckled along different parts of his backside. You realize you hadn’t really ever seen him naked from behind. The sight concerns you, but you try to put your mind off the image of him getting hurt. The only times you saw him threatened in person was with Mom and Yosuke. Each had a different, yet similar reason for doing it. They wanted to control things. You, particularly. Mom had threatened to hurt her Number whom she supposedly kept so close, just to keep you silent. And Yosuke…

You scowl a little. He just doesn’t want anyone other than himself to be close to you. But it’s not as if he can stop it from happening anyway. The man inadvertently pushed you toward Cyrus and Lav because of his disturbing obsession and possessiveness of you.

Again, you refuse to keep him in your mind and focus on what’s happening now. The warm shower does wonders for you, ultimately calming your nerves and relaxing your body. You’re nowhere near ready to engage in a lengthy bout of sex when you have to actually put your body into it. It’s one thing to lay there and be used, but another to be active. Even with the little bit you did, your arms and legs feel a little tired. You guess real sex is a bit of a workout. You suppose most of the exhaustion you’ve felt during visits has come from both the physical and emotional demands of being used against your will. But you again try to put that thought aside.

“You enjoy yourself?” Lav asks after you’ve both finished cleaning off. She turns off the water and leans slightly towards you as she pats her neck dry with a towel.

“I did,” you admit, smiling to yourself. “I had a good time. I mean, I was really shy, but you know how I am.”

“Ten, that’s what I like about you,” your blonde companion responds with a light nudge of your forearm with her elbow. “You’re a sweet girl. But you’re not just sweet all the time.”

“Huh…?” You lower a brow in confusion. Lav smiles.

“You’re a gentle, caring person. You can be really shy, sure, but I know there’s a part of you that knows how to fight back and speak her mind. I do like that part of you. I like both parts of you.”

She nudges her head in Cyrus’ direction. “I’m sure he likes those things about you too.”

You subtly turn your head to try glimpsing the young man behind you, surprised to see him doing the same this time. Your eyes just barely meet, but Cyrus immediately turns away and continues wiping his body of excess water.

“I really ought to thank you for teaching me to be more open with my body,” you turn your attention back to Lav. “I guess I’m still learning. I still feel a little ashamed of myself at times. But you’ve really been helping. You and him. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to be me because he’s still a guy. You at least have an advantage on him there.”

“You’re really that grateful?” Lav seems shocked. You nod.

“I guess I didn’t know what to think back when you showed me how to, um…you know. And I wasn’t expecting to really be intimate with you like that. I mean, I guess not romantically intimate, but sexually. I didn’t know what to make of it at all. But it felt good. It was the first time I did anything with anyone I didn’t hate.”

Lav looks slightly wide-eyed at you as you say all these things, but remains silent. Her lips are slightly parted as if she wants to speak, but she doesn’t.

“I looked up to you,” you go on, though hesitate to look in Lav’s eyes as you admit this. “I wanted to be like you. Selfless, firm about what you want, unashamed to be you. I thought it was jarring. I still sometimes do. But I realize It’s something I really wanted. Even if I’m getting used to being open little by little, I don’t think I could ever be precisely like you. And maybe I don’t have to be.”

You blush.

“A-anyway, I guess I put you on a pedestal for a while. But I realized you’re not perfect either. Both recently and after today, I got a clearer picture of you being human. I see that even you can be hurt and worried and upset. You’re still a person. But for the longest time, I put you and Cyrus on your own pedestals. But neither of you are perfect. Now more than ever, I see how flawed you really are. It’s not a bad thing. In the end, it’s comforting to know you’re like me, and that you have room to grow in your own ways.”

You pause after realizing Lav’s said nothing for a while. “Sorry, is that a bit too forward? Mean?”

Lav finally curves her lips in a sweet smile and shakes her head.

“No, I’m….flattered,” she says. “You mean a lot to me, you know? And seeing you actually be open about this kind of thing, either with your body or your emotions? It’s really comforting. I’m happy for you. Even if you don’t fully know how you feel about things, even if you’re still struggling, I think you’re getting to a point where you can at least speak your mind a little easier. You’re recognizing things more. You’re understanding what you want and don’t want more and more every day. I’m glad.”

You sheepishly look away, but do end up smiling more. “Thanks.”

Lav, finally done toweling off, moves to put on a dry gown she pulled out for herself. As she dresses, you hear the intercom above you chime to signal the end of the day. Lav pulls her damp hair out from the top opening of her gown and guides it back down her backside.

“Figured as much,” she sighs. “You should hurry and get dressed.”

She then places a hand firmly on your shoulder as you grab your own spare gown, and with a serious look in her amber eye, she stares you down.

“Ten, remember: if he asks, you made crafts and went swimming today. Okay?”

You don’t bat an eye to her grave tone. You promptly nod, and Lav continues to eye you a moment before eventually loosening up. She again sighs.

“Good. Anyway, we should probably get going.”

“You girls dressed yet?” Cyrus’ voice chimes in from behind you two. You clutch the gown In your hands and turn to face him, a bit flustered by his appearance again after just sharing so much intimate talk with Lav. Still, he seems either oblivious to it, or relaxed about it. You’re not sure.

Cyrus has already clothed himself, and his hair is a bit matted since he evidently ran a towel roughly back and forth over his scalp to dry his head.

“U-um, no, hold on,” you stammer, trying to hurriedly clothe yourself again. Cyrus and Lav both look at each other and laugh a little at your flustered state. However, once you are dressed, your royal blue companion speaks up.

“I should probably stay. Mom tends to have to get me last, anyway.”

“I guess so,” Lav shrugs. “I’ll go out first. Sven’s pretty impatient.”

You try to ask if she’s genuinely okay with doing so, but notice that she flashes you a bit of a light wink as she says this. Cyrus doesn’t catch it, luckily. You give a light nod at her gesture, though she doesn’t quite leave yet. Instead, she reaches over and hugs you tightly, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Thanks for everything,” she expresses her gratitude. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“See you,” you return her goodbye with a gentle smile, reciprocating her embrace with one of your own. When you both pull away, Lav glances over at Cyrus and frowns a bit, as if assessing whether or not to hug him, or if he’d even want it. Noticing her uncertainty, Cyrus opens his arms a bit in invitation, which Lav happily accepts. She hugs him equally as tightly as she had you, but soon pulls away to start heading out. She gives a bit of a wave before retreating out into the pool and making her way to the hall. You merely wave back, watching as she goes.

With the party down to just you and Cyrus again, you suddenly aren’t sure what to say other than,

“That was…an experience.”

The young man raises a brow, though shifts his body toward the shower exit. His head turns back to you, and he gestures to you with one hand as if to invite you to follow him. Sheepishly, you do, walking beside him.

“Were you really okay with doing what we did?” You ask, your nervousness rising when Cyrus doesn’t acknowledge your comment. “Or were you just saving face?”

“I was fine with it,” the young man answers honestly, flashing you a subtle smile. You both exit the shower and walk until you’ve reached the middle of the uppermost edge of the pool. You turn to face Cyrus, figuring you have to wait a while for Lav to be gone before you head out yourself.

“You know, I’m surprised you opened up as much as you did,” he finally speaks up more. “You didn’t have to if you were worried.”

“I wanted to,” you tell him honestly. “I really like you guys. I wanted to put my fears aside for you and be more active. Granted, I can’t help the way I react to things emotionally since I’m still learning how to deal with this stuff. But I had a good time, really.”

Cyrus’ aqua eyes shift away a bit meekly. “Was I okay?”

Just as well, you wind up glancing off to the side in embarrassment at such a question. Of course the answer is yes, but you wouldn’t feel comfortable bragging or joking about him that way just yet.

“You were fine,” is all you say of it. “Was...I?”

Cyrus laughs softly. “I don’t think I would have kept going if you weren’t. I’ll say that much. I really appreciated you willing to touch me back the first time. And the second time, I…was a little flustered by you.”

“I noticed,” you remark lightly. “I had a good time with her too. I guess in a different way than with you.”

“I noticed,” Cyrus coyly returns your own words. “I figured I’d help out a little. But you did kinda seem like you were getting the hang of it.”

“You weren’t at all weirded out by us? Or by her?”

The young man before you merely blinks. “Not at all. I was fine letting you have fun. Plus, Nine’s really pretty. She didn’t much bug me.”

“Prettier than me?”

Cyrus again shifts his gaze away, struggling with this question. “That’s…not…”

You laugh gently when you catch him struggling to give a genuine answer . “I’m joking, Cyrus. It doesn’t matter to me.”

He calms down a bit after this, though you see a glint in his eye that reflects relief. You figure he was trying hard to avoid conflict by giving a real answer. But you don’t care if he thinks if one’s prettier than the other. The point is that he likes you at all.

“I think she’s pretty too,” you admit to him. “I…really like her, you know.”

He smiles. “I know.”

You go silent a moment, watching the stillness of the pool’s water from the corner of your eye.

“It’s a little strange, being like this after today,” you say, your voice almost murmuring. “I never really expected to feel this way or to do any of these things with you or her. No less together. But I’m glad it happened. I enjoyed our time alone together. You made me feel loved and cherished when I’d been robbed of that feeling for so long because of where I am. Just as well, I liked being with the both of you, and being a little bit more openly sexual. It was embarrassing to adjust to, and I’m still a little shy about getting into it, but I won’t say I regret it. And now more than ever, I’m able to admit this kind of thing without issue. Back then, I don’t think I could have ever gotten the words out.”

You then look up at Cyrus expectantly when he doesn’t answer you. He seems to be avoiding your gaze as he thinks a moment. You merely laugh softly and joke,

“I’m glad you started crying.”

This gets the young man’s attention, and he blinks a moment in a bit of bewilderment at your statement.

“What?”

“If you hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened,” you elaborate, your tone light. “Even for as awkward as it was, I already said I don’t regret it.”

Cyrus smiles warmly and takes one of your hands, holding it before him and cupping his other one atop yours.

“Thank you for checking on me,” he expresses his gratitude. He makes no attempts to joke back at you after your light teasing. Rather, he remains sweet. “I’m glad you did.”

You look up at his soft face, gently curling your fingers around the flesh of his palm as you examine him. You’re not sure what else to really say, but you want to be sweet with him knowing that he’s probably still struggling with himself. You close your eyes and try to lean in to kiss him, though are taken aback when he stops you by bringing his fingers to your lips. When you open your eyes, you frown and ask,

“What’s wrong?”

Cyrus shifts his eyes away. “Yosuke seems like a creepy guy.”

“Huh…?” You remain utterly confused. However, your partner persists.

“He always knows when you’re lying. He hovers over you incessantly,” he elaborates, dropping the hand near your mouth. “I don’t know what you can expect from him tonight. But I don’t want to take any chances in case he’s somehow able to tell that…”

You tilt your head a bit as you examine his hesitant expression.

“You’re worried about me.”

“Of course I’m worried about you.” Cyrus makes no attempts to hide this. “I’ve got a lot of reasons to be.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, squeezing your companion’s hand gently. “I worry about you too, you know. But the thing is, no matter what happens to me, I could never blame you or any of the Numbers for it. I don’t really even blame Nine for what happened with me last night even though it was a bit of carelessness from both of us that led to it. I couldn’t possibly blame her. Anyway, I do sometimes do things knowing they can get me in trouble, but it’s nobody’s fault what happens to me. If it’s not mine, it’s my doctor’s, for being so awful. It’s all the doctors who choose to be terrible.”

You sigh.

“But I understand. We don’t have to do that now. We can save it for later if we still feel like doing it. Okay? Tomorrow or some other day when we’re not occupied with the others.”

Cyrus gently laughs. “I guess we left them hanging today, huh?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” you say with a light shake of your head. “They’re often doing their own thing anyway. I was worried about it before, but I guess I shouldn’t have been.”

“….Yeah,” Cyrus mumbles. He seems preoccupied with another thought. “You really don’t mind kissing me? I didn’t expect you to move in like that.”

“A kiss can mean a lot of things,” you repeat his words from earlier. Despite the smile on your face, you soon frown. “Um, by the way, It’s been a while. Maybe I should get going, before Yosuke comes after me. He’s come into the hall looking for me before.”

“…Right.”

You let go of Cyrus’ hand, letting it drop down to his side. After giving a last glance, you turn to start heading toward the pool exit. However, your companion stops you by calling your name.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning back slightly to face him. Cyrus frowns.

“Ten, after everything good you experienced, going back out there is going to be a bit of a gut punch for you,” he remarks gravely. “I know a lot’s happened today, but don’t forget where you are, okay? Just be careful. Take care of yourself.”

You pause a moment to look at him, your lips slightly parted. However, all you do is nod in response. Cyrus is right that today was a major distraction from everything you’ve dealt with. You felt blissful being cared for and loved by people you trust. But now you have to go back to Yosuke. Every good feeling you had will fade until you can see the others again.

“I know,” you opt to say. “I’m aware. But the same goes for you. Take care of yourself too, okay?”

Cyrus returns your nod with one of his own. Before you turn to leave, he again gives a last word. Perhaps he feels he should.

“...Goodnight.”

You again pause, but flash a warm smile back at the young man. His concern for you is sweet. You’re happy he cares so much, but he shouldn’t have to be so worried. You want him to feel okay. Still, the best you can do is be kind to him.

“Goodnight, Cyrus,” you say sweetly.

You turn back to the doors to the hall and glance at them, pausing a moment to heave a sigh. You try to bring yourself back into reality now, knowing that this gentler moment is over. Collecting your thoughts and putting your feelings aside, you remind yourself where you are.

When you’re ready, you step toward the doors and allow them to open. Without another word, you leave Cyrus at the poolside to go confront your doctor.

Chapter 59: Bedside

The hall is mostly empty, save for Monica and Yosuke. By now, the other Numbers are probably back in their rooms. You wish you’d at least gone back to see how they were doing before the day ended, but suppose you can just see them again another time. You figure you’ll have to act like you always do around them, as if what happened between you, Lav, and Cyrus hadn’t. Then again, you probably have to act like that around everyone. In any case, you can’t waste time thinking about the pleasantries of today now that you’re about to pass the gate again. You can see that the door’s been moved aside, but the opening is blocked off by your doctor.

You make your way over to the expectant Yosuke by the open gate. His attention had been fixated on Monica, no doubt as he’d been chatting with her while waiting for your emergence. However, he promptly turns his head toward you and lays his olive eyes upon your face as soon as you’re in his peripheral. Monica, prompted by his shift in attention, looks in turn over at you and smiles warmly as she stands by the office door. You find it odd that it’s her, rather than Mom.

Yosuke raises a brow when he sees you fully. You stand by the gate’s entrance and look away, none too pleased to be before the man again.

“You took a while,” he remarks with a light frown. You subtly scowl.

“I had to get changed,” is your only blunt response. Yosuke chuckles and pets your damp head.

“Mm, did you enjoy your swim?” He remains presumptuous, but you don’t let your guard down. You remain still as he moves his hand to cup the underside of your chin. He presses both sides of it with his thumb and forefinger before guiding you to look at him, evidently displeased by your lack of eye contact. You remain firm in your expression. You have every reason to be angry.

Yosuke’s coyness persists. “Everyone was here today. I’m sure you had a good time, hm?”

“Yes,” you tell him unapologetically, though you do try staying careful about your expressions and your words. The only thing that can incriminate you now isn’t an object or a circumstance. It’s you. “We spent time as a group. We were happy. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have friends like that.”

Yosuke laughs a bit, amused but otherwise wholly unburdened by your statement. “You say that as if it’s my concern to be so social. I only participate where I have to. But jovial comradery isn’t a priority for most of us. Aside from a select few of us, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we focus on work, and on you. Anything else is secondary. The only time we’ll really come together is in an instance where we have to.”

“But it wouldn’t much hurt to be nice,” Monica giggles. “Yosuke, you don’t have to be antisocial.”

“I suppose,” is the man’s brief response as he drops his hand from your chin. “I don’t prefer to be so buddy-buddy, but I don’t much hesitate to interact where I must. I don’t inherently dislike you, at least. That’s more than I can say for dear old mother as of late.”

Monica calmly smiles. “She just needs time.”

You look over at the ever-joyful woman, noting a genuine sweetness to her expression as she looks at Yosuke. It’s not a lustful gaze like Mom’s, at least. If she’s at all faking her demeanor, you figure she’s doing a much better job at it than some other doctors. Mom can’t fake things as easily when her emotions run high. If she’s ever bothered by anything specific, or ever amused or entertained, you can usually tell.

Speaking of…

“Where is Mom?” You ask Monica, a bit confused by the sultry doctor’s lack of emergence. She’s always been so clingy with Yosuke, you’re surprised she isn’t present. The two are so intertwined whether or not they mean to be. But Monica gives a light shrug to your question. Openly, she explains,

“She’s still with Micah. I’m not sure why. Lilah left impatiently a while ago even after saying she would watch me. But I didn’t do anything bad. I just sat around, filed some paperwork. Nothing special or that would get me in trouble, so I don’t see the need to baby me so much now!”

She then giggles. “Anyway, I guess Mamita must be bored so easily when she has nothing important to do here. Even I wasn’t sure what to do with my time.”

Not sure why she’s still with Micah? You latch onto this statement rather quickly. Of course there’s a reason she’s around him: she’s probably screwing Micah too, or trying to since she’s been so quick to latch onto anyone who might give her attention as of late. Granted, you’re not sure the “bad boy” Micah is at all into someone like Mom who would probably demean him with her “mommy” talk. They’re both fairly raunchy people, but they’re on different levels in terms of preference. However, Mom had mentioned knowing Micah and how he gets when he isn’t just acting tough. It’s not unlikely, then, that they’d be familiar with each other for any reason, whether sexually or just as companions or coworkers. You figure whatever relationship the two have is mostly one-sided, though. Mom’s an insistent person, and Micah is a dismissive one.

Yosuke raises a brow at you and coyly smirks. “Are you worried about her?”

You figured he’d suggest this. You aren’t sure why he even bothers when your responses to his teasing assumptions are always similar.

“You know that I’m not,” you shoot back. “It was just a question.”

“There’s no reason to be so defensive, dear,” is the response you’re given. Yosuke frowns a bit at you. “In any case, I’m sure she must have her hands full with something important. She hasn’t managed to get out of her cave for this long a time in quite a while..”

“I thought you said she liked being here,” you note, curiosity peaked by the contradiction. Yosuke chuckles.

“She does,” he answers back without batting an eye. “But with how she’s been lately with Monica, she seems itching to fly, even for a short time. You know how your mother gets. Even so, I’m hardly complaining. Anything that keeps her from hounding me when she’s in one of her moods. I’m grateful to her for what she’s done for me, but I can only take so much from her. I’m sure you of all people understand.”

You’d hate to say you agree with him on something, so you don’t really answer. Monica smiles at both of you and gives a jolly little laugh with her light voice.

“You’re so observant of Mamita,” she remarks. “How long have you known each other, anyway? You hardly mentioned. She won’t talk to me about her personal life for some reason. Then again, it’s probably because she’s still mad at me.”

“A while,” Yosuke shrugs this question off with such a brief, casual response. “Enough for me to know how she is. But there are even things she knows that escape me. She’s been here far longer than me.”

“Is that so?” Monica seems genuinely intrigued, her brown eyes lighting up with curiosity. You aren’t sure if she’s just probing for information out of some ulterior motive, or if it’s just her genuine sprightly wonder. “I wonder who’s been here the longest, other than the boss! I’m curious!”

“If not the boss, certainly his partner,” Yosuke gives a subtle scoff, as if this were obvious. “But out of the rest of us, I’m not quite sure. I was under the assumption the others had all been here a while by the way they spoke to me when I was new. By how they acted as well.”

He smiles kindly at Monica, then quietly puts a hand on your shoulder. “Now that’s enough talk of that. I should get my Number back into the warmth of her bed, before she catches a cold. You never know with how sensitive she is.”

You look down hearing him speak of you like this, both in embarrassment, and in worry. It’s not clear to you whether he means to use you tonight or not, and you fear that he’ll be able to tell you’ve been fooling around if he gets you naked and examines your body. You’re afraid to think of how he might try to hurt you if he ever finds out what you did. The day before his obsession for you grew so exponentially, you remember him mentioning that holding you captive was never an option he’d take, or at least that it’d be too excessive a punishment. Yet recently, he said he’d have no trouble doing it if it meant keeping you by his side.

You wonder if he’d also take back other things he’s said he’d never do to you. Would he get violent? He’s slapped you already and caused you pain by forcing himself on you the way he did last night. You never expected him to actually hurt you that way even if he had said a few times before that he was capable of it. Maybe you didn’t believe him. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

Thinking on it, you aren’t exactly sure why he hit you either—was he insulted by your callout, or did he take offense to you saying he’d leave you behind? You can’t imagine he genuinely cares for you enough to really want you forever. He just wants you to be his puppet, on call for his sexual desires, desperate and longing for only him. Eight said he wasn’t confident that your refusing Yosuke and being stubborn would make him back off as he had when Eight refused Yosuke himself. However, you don’t really think Yosuke would have any trouble moving on from you if you proved too challenging for him.

Even if you’re a prize to the man, you’re still disposable in a place like this. Everyone’s made that abundantly clear. This understanding didn’t just come from the doctors, though. Watching Jay die and immediately be dismissed by the boss and Marcellus only affirmed how little you’re worth here. Even if you mean something to Yosuke, you mean nothing to anyone else who isn’t a Number.

That said, with how much Yosuke’s acted out lately, you doubt he’d get as “good” a replacement should you ever leave him, whether it’s because of circumstance or because he decided to abandon you. Even if you are disposable, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s obsessed with owning you. So there really is a risk involved with his acting out, especially if your replacement won’t be up to snuff in accordance with his preferences. Maybe you’re really stuck together, and this thought leaves you sick to your stomach. Is that any better or worse than any other awful possibility?

“Let’s go, Ten,” Yosuke’s voice calls out, interrupting your train of thought. You glance up at him with disdain, but follow obediently when he turns to leave. You give one last look at Monica before you go, noting that she’s still smiling sweetly. She gives a bit of a wave, seeing you off, but says nothing more.

As you walk down the hall, there’s a long silence that lasts between you and Yosuke. You don’t much care this time, not in the mood to speak with him so frivolously. You continue wondering relentlessly whether he’s suspicious of you at all, but figure that as long as you stay diligent and careful about how you speak with him, he’ll have no reason to.

Your mind then wanders to earlier. Today almost feels like a blur now that you’re out of the recreational areas. The memory of it isn’t one you’ll soon forget, though. You enjoyed yourself more than you ever really have before. You needed something like this so desperately, and you’re glad to have made both Cyrus and Lav feel good. However, you can’t help but think about your earlier recollection of wedding vows. You aren’t sure what to make of it now. Cyrus said it’s best to let it go since you can’t do anything to force yourself to make a memory connection, but not knowing why you know what you know bugs the hell out of you. It’s been a while since you really thought about anything regarding your past life this much.

Why dream of a wedding at all? Why one specifically with Yosuke? Why do you know vows? Is there a connection between the garden maze and the strange house and ballroom you saw in your other dream? Why did you see the doctors in your dreams? Granted, questions regarding why some people appear in your dreams may just be answered with the reasoning that you dream of things you see or experience here. You can’t imagine you’ve ever met any of the doctors before this. Maybe the boss and his gunman, since they seem oddly familiar to you, but certainly not the others. Really, you wish you could understand just why you recognize those two. You aren’t wrought with the staticy feeling in your head when you try to remember, but you simply struggle to recall them at all. Did you know them? Did you meet them at a wedding?

Your mind shifts back to the thought of such an event and lingers there. You can’t help but ask,

“Yosuke, have you ever been to a wedding?”

Your doctor doesn’t bother to stop walking or turn his head. But since you’re behind him, you can’t much gauge his reaction to your words.

“I’ve been to them here and there,” he says casually. “Growing up, I had members of my family who remarried, so I had to attend. I suppose I’ve been to a couple as I got older, but again, I wasn’t much the social type. If I ever went, it was out of favor or obligation.”

You aren’t sure what you hoped to gain from such a question. His answer does nothing for you. Though, Yosuke stops talking for a while after this question, perhaps because there’s nothing more to say to it. You again walk in silence behind him. However, after a long pause, he eventually does speak up again about the subject, much to your surprise. His head turns just barely as he says this, but he doesn’t stop walking.

“Why do you ask?”

Why? You aren’t sure exactly.

“I was just wondering,” you opt to answer. “I really don’t know.”

“Something on your mind, dear?”

“No.”

You both eventually reach your room door, and Yosuke turns his body toward you. He gives a sweet smile and cups your cheek, rubbing it lovingly.

“I’m sure you’d make a beautiful bride,” he says, flustering you. The cheeks on your face grow a bit red, and you drop your eyes. Even with your embarrassment, you do lightly scowl.

“I wasn’t asking because I wanted anything like that,” you remain firm. “I just-”

You’re unable to finish before Yosuke presses his lips against yours, pecking at you lightly and shutting you up.

“Most girls are infatuated with the concept from an early age,” He remarks after pulling away. “I wouldn’t put it past even you to be curious.”

You figure it was a good call on Cyrus’ part not to let you carelessly kiss him before returning to bed. Had there been anyone else’s taste on your lips, perhaps Yosuke would have found out by now. He’s observant in strange ways. You’d not put it past him to tell even that.

“Forget it,” you grumble. “Just let me in already. Please.”

Your doctor gives an amused breath through his nose before dropping his hand from you and turning back to your door. Once he’s unlocked it, you promptly enter the room. Though you figured in the back of your mind that the man would enter with you, it still bothers you when he predictably does.

You turn to face him head on this time and frown.

“What now?” You demand. “Was embarrassing me the way you did not enough?”

The door behind your doctor promptly shuts, leaving you with only Yosuke before you. He stands casually by the entrance of your room, one hand in his pants pocket. He stares at you with his olive eyes from behind his square frames. He remains smiling.

“I presume they saw what I did?”

“You know they did,” you mutter. “You wanted them to. But they didn’t bat an eye about it and immediately forgot about it. So whatever you were trying to do didn’t work.”

Yosuke does not budge. “And what exactly do you think I was trying to do, Ten?”

“You’re so adamant on owning me that I assume you were trying to embarrass me in front of them,” you guess. “To remind them that you own me, that you’re capable of whatever it is you think you are.”

“Hm, I figured you liked being tied up that way,” Yosuke mulls It over as he strokes his chin. “Honestly, I did have a bit of fun with it. You’d been so stubborn with me, I only meant to bind you overnight. But I ended up wanting to leave it on. I’m sure you liked being ‘rescued’ by your friends, hm? They must have cut you free themselves.”

You don’t bother to respond to this, merely looking down and avoiding his gaze. You remain on your toes, knowing that at any moment your doctor could choose to do what he likes with you. Yosuke merely looks at you and sighs.

“Ten, I’m not going to use you,” he assures you, as if reading your mind. His cheekier tone disappears. “I want to talk.”

Your heart jumps then. Talk? Why?

You try desperately to keep yourself calm, not wanting to look guilty or suspicious. You merely stand your ground.

“Last time you wanted to stay, things went bad for me,” you say firmly. “So what do you want from me now?”

“Nothing,” Yosuke asserts his position. “I want to spend time with you. Truly, this time.”

“Why?”

Your doctor gives a bit of a throated chuckle to himself. “My dear, you’ve always liked these quieter moments. I figured I’d try being kinder tonight. I have been a little hard on you lately.”

You scowl and shake your head. “Don’t do that to me. Not after what you did and have been doing for a while.”

“Do what?” Yosuke tilts his head slightly and raises a brow. Your anger grows the longer he plays coy.

“Try to act nice. Human. As if I’d buy it now.”

Yosuke smirks at your displeasure. “Ten, like it or not, I’m human, like you. We’re all intertwined by that fact. Though we may vary personally, we each have the capacity to be like one another. Even you could easily be as horrible as you want to other people, if you decided to.”

“No, I couldn’t,” you refuse his words. “I’m not evil.”

“That depends on how you define evil, Ten. You could easily do an evil act for a good purpose. That doesn’t undermine the fact that your deed was evil. Killing, for instance. Or perhaps smaller evils that we’re capable of, like lies. Everyone lies. Even you.”

He’s starting to sound like Eight. You don’t much like hearing this from Yosuke.

“I’m not a bad person.”

“I’d like to think the same,” your doctor notes, smiling again to himself. He steps toward you and pets your damp head. “You’re much too soft to be genuinely cruel. Even when you try to be a little tough, you’re still such a sweet thing. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt anyone.”

You refuse to acknowledge this statement, despite how bitter it makes you. Rather, you attempt to refocus the conversation, turning it on your doctor instead.

“Don’t you feel guilty for the things you do?” You question bluntly. “For all the hurt you cause me?”

“I am sorry that I have to hurt my precious pet so much,” Yosuke answers without issue, though he hardly convinces you. “I don’t mean to scare you so often, my dear. But I do what I do for a reason. I can’t expect you to understand that reason fully, no matter how much I tell you what it is.”

He moves his hand from the top of your head to under your chin, curling his fingers beneath it. “I suppose I’ve been so focused on having you as my little plaything, I’ve neglected my caretaking role. I should have paid better attention. But I enjoyed taking care of you while you were at your weakest. You’re absolutely precious when you need me. When you’re too weary to refuse my aid.”

He chuckles when your cheeks go red at these flustering words. “You still love the attention even so, I see. Even when you hate it, you want more.”

“I don’t.”

Yosuke frowns and presses a thumb hard against your lips to quiet you.

“Don’t lie. Be a good girl.”

You angrily swat his hand away.

“Why do you keep reading me like that?!” You demand, your voice rising in volume. “How have you constantly been able to look at me and just assume what I’m thinking or feeling?!”

“Are you admitting to me that I’m right?” Yosuke smirks. You shake your head.

“I’m not admitting a thing.”

Your doctor merely runs the back of his hand sweetly down your cheek, returning it to you in spite of your having swatted him away. He remains persistent in toying with your flesh.

“It’s not a hard trick to learn,” he finally answers you. “But it’s not one I’ll teach you. Admittedly, I didn’t used to know how to read people quite as well, only somewhat. It’s something I learned with time. But Gale also helped teach me to do it properly. You know how well they read others.”

He chuckles privately, presumably at some memory.

“I dabbled in psychology once, you know. But I wasn’t exactly as skilled in it as someone like Gale, nor was the subject my specialty. But I suppose the small experience I did have helped them guide me.”

The idea of Gale being so friendly with Yosuke, enough to teach him anything at all, strikes you as strange. The only time you heard them interact more openly was when you eavesdropped on them, but they’d been discussing you. Even if there was a casual interaction somewhere in there, it was brief, you recall.

“Why would Gale teach you anything?” You question “They seemed not to like your way of doing things. I don’t see why they’d want to add to that.”

“Gale has many reasons for doing what they do,” is your doctor’s response. “Sometimes even I’m not sure. I think they just enjoy watching people react to things and act as they do. They don’t always meddle, but they help out where they like. Gale’s quite kind that way. Always the type to see good in others. They’re a charming individual. Though, naturally, they need to be to pull off what they do. But not everyone falls for their little tricks.”

He then frowns a little.

“Now, dear, you’re still wet,” he remarks, dropping his discussion of Gale. He moves to your bed and pulls the comforter down to make room for you to slip under it. “Get into your bed, why don’t you? You’ll be warmer there. The cold air here can be a touch harsh sometimes.”

“No,” you refuse, convinced he’ll try something. “I don’t want to.”

“I said I won’t use you, Ten,” Yosuke again swears by this. “Besides, you’ll have to get in sometime. Or would you rather we stay up all night together?”

“Just shut up.”

You avoid making eye contact with the man as you begrudgingly make your way to the bed. You brush past your doctor and slip between the comforting fabric of the sheets and comforter, though you refuse to lay down. You instead lean back against your pillow between your body and the wall. Yosuke seems not to have much of an issue with you doing this, though. He merely smiles and makes his way to your desk chair, bringing it slightly more toward the bed and sitting in it. His legs spread out slightly and comfortably In the thing, though he does not lean against the backrest, opting instead to lean forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He looks on amusedly at you, observing with his olive eyes as you refuse to look back at him.

“Are you afraid?” He asks curiously. You shake your head.

“I just don’t like you. You’ve read what I wrote.”

This amuses your doctor, and he lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t like me? Is that why you always ask about me? About my role, my life, my skills? Come, now.”

“I-I don’t…” You fumble over your words and wind up trailing off. He’s mistaking your curiosity and desire to understand everything for personal involvement with him. But you’re not about to let the man get away with being cheeky. You try to gather your words again and instead opt to say,

“I might as well know about you if I’m stuck with you.”

“You said something similar on our date,” Yosuke remarks with a coy grin. “But there’s a lot you don’t need to know.”

“Why?”

Yosuke’s smile does not fade. “Is my pet so curious? What do you hope to uncover, exactly?”

You drop your eyes and go silent a moment. Will knowing something, anything, really make you feel better? Will it make you feel worse? Maybe you’re just an idiot who doesn’t know when to quit. Asking questions, prying, trying to understand what you don’t…what is there to really gain? Where does it get you when nobody will tell you anything?

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I don’t know anything. I just…I just want to understand.”

Yosuke’s smile fades as he watches your genuinely sullen reaction to his words.

“Your curiosity is dangerous,” he warns. “You want to live, don’t you?”

“Where’s that coming from?” You shift your gaze over to him, looking on at his focused expression. Yosuke gives a bit of an exhale, strangely curving his lips in a subtle smile.

“You’ve been told many times not to ask so many questions, dear,” he tells you. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the danger there is in persistence.”

“Sometimes I just can’t bring myself to care about the danger,” you shrug this off, recalling your decision to speak so openly about Jay. You’re sure there’s a chance the boss will know, but at some point, you suppose you stopped caring. You didn’t want to forget the girl.

“I know I’m not smart, but maybe I’m hoping knowing will change something or make me feel better. I don’t know if it will. I can’t know. Besides, there are things we Numbers probably know and talk about that we shouldn’t. Even the doctors know things they probably shouldn’t.”

Yosuke rubs his chin a bit. “I suppose you have a point. But I still wouldn’t prefer something happen to you. I understand your perspective of me. I can’t convince you that I care. I can only tell you that I do. If anyone is to hurt you, it should be me. But unfortunately, that sort of thing is out of my hands. If another doctor hurts you, I can be firm with them. If my boss does…”

Oddly, he gives a soft laugh, almost one that sounds like another exhale.

“Well, it depends on his mood. He can be forgiving if he feels like it, but even his merciful hand has a few catches to it at times. Even so, he’s been firm as of late with how tired he is of us running around behind his back. Or in your mother’s case, right in front of his face. She hides little of her antics from him.”

“Your boss didn’t strike me as the nice type,” you remark with a light scowl at the memory of his appearance. “Not at all forgiving.”

“He has to be firm,” is Yosuke’s simple response. “In any case, we’re not to discuss you know what.”

“I know. I get it.”

Yosuke’s olive eyes remain fixated upon you a moment, though he does not speak again after this. You two bask in a silence you don’t expect. You figured Yosuke would continue chatting casually like he usually does, even changing the subject while doing so. But now, he seems a bit thoughtful. You aren’t sure what’s on his mind, but then again, you suppose you have no reason to care.

“Perhaps I’ll indulge my dear pet this time,” he finally speaks up, sitting up straight again. He turns the chair slightly so that his arm can better reach you, and he places his palm against the top of your head. He playfully tussles your damp hair a bit, causing discomfort to again rise in you.

“How about this, Ten?” Yosuke inquires. “I’ll indulge your curiosity just a little. You may ask me about myself or the others if you like. I won’t tell you much about who they really are or were, or about the facility. But I suppose small things can’t hurt.”

You widen your eyes slightly and fully turn your head toward the man, shocked. You watch his amused expression at your piqued curiosity, but are put off when he drops his hand from your head to your chin, gripping it playfully.

“I do relish the precious light in your eyes when I promise you things you want,” he notes, teasing you. “It’s very cute. Being given treats excites you, mm?”

Your eyebrows lower as you stare on at the man. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer. If you want to answer my questions, then just do that and cut whatever bullshit you’re doing now.”

Yosuke smirks. “There’s no need to act as If you don’t adore it. But I suppose if you’re going to be a bit mouthy, I’ll have to throw in my own condition.”

“What?!”

Your doctor leans in, close enough for you to feel his breath on your face. Instinctively, you reach a hand over and clutch his shoulder, attempting to push him away. However, he remains persistent and largely unphased by your meager effort at stopping him.

“I’ll answer your questions like you want, my dear,” he tells you lowly. “But in return, you’ll allow me to call you by the pretty name I gave you. Just for tonight. Do we have a deal?”

Your eyes shift away nervously as you’re faced with your doctor in such close proximity again. Yosuke lightly shakes your head while still gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger, trying to keep you focused.

“Do we?”

This isn’t exactly favorable to you, but simultaneously, you’re being given the opportunity to learn even a little bit about the other doctors. Then again, it’s really not them that you’re focused on. The things you do want to know about are things about the facility that you’re not allowed to. So, is it really worth agreeing to Yosuke’s terms knowing that what you’re going to get out of this won’t at all be helpful to you? But maybe there’s a chance you can get the man to talk about something you can use. You’re not sure. You’ll just have to try.

“…Okay,” you finally agree. “Fine. But how do I know what you tell me is the truth?”

“You don’t,” the man by your bedside says plainly. “You just have to trust me.”

This sits poorly with you, but it’s not as if you have much of an option. You can either get no chances to ask him anything and learn nothing, or get a chance to learn something while risking being told lies by asking what you want to know.

“Will you keep your promise about not using me?”

“I’ll give you my word on that,” Yosuke agrees. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to talk, Rose.”

You slightly grimace hearing this name used again. Yosuke then drops his hand from you and leans back in his chair, allowing you to settle down again. You place both hands in your lap now, over the comforter. By the looks of it, Yosuke seems to be awaiting your questions now. You aren’t exactly sure what to ask him first, but figure you should start with more about him, like you initially wanted. You know you can’t ask much, so you choose your questions carefully now that you can think on them a bit.

“Who are you?”

Yosuke gives a bit of an entertained chuckle. “That’s your first question? It’s a bit vague.”

“You know what I mean,” you say with a light scowl. “I know your name; I know what you told me about yourself when you were younger. What I mean is, who are you here? What do you do?”

“You mean my job?”

You give a subtle nod.

“I can only say so much of it, Rose,” Yosuke reminds you with a lowered brow. Again, his name for you leaves a pit in your stomach, but you try to deal with it. “I do work aboveground. I manage a few things up there that have nothing to do with what’s going on down here.”

“What do you specialize in, then?” You question. “You said you only dabbled in psychology, not specialized in it.”

“Mm, I did,” Yosuke remarks, folding his arms. “I’ve told you before I had the pick of the litter on what I wanted to do in my life. This was somewhat applicable to my advanced studies. I had good grades, understood most things. I ended up studying many broader medical subjects, dabbling a little in this or that.”

You scoff. “So you couldn’t settle on a subject. Like with people, you’re indecisive.”

Yosuke frowns. “Don’t be so presumptuous, dear Rose. I did choose something. Now, I know some things other people in this facility know, but I could never do their jobs or even attempt to. They specialize in their own fields. If I recall, some of them never even went through or finished any formal training or education. However, I myself built a rather sizable skillset and went to school for a while. But the thing about most professional fields is that specialty and mastery is necessary. You wouldn’t trust a general practitioner with surgery, would you?”

“I guess not.” You aren’t quite sure since you know little of what certain fields really do outside of very obvious ones, but you agree anyway.

“I did once think about and work toward becoming a general practitioner myself,” Yosuke goes on, smiling to himself again at some personal memory. “It’s why I know how to do what I do here. Take care of you, check you, all manner of things. But aboveground, I needed more technical expertise. At some point, I wanted to aim a little higher than just general patient-to-patient care. Ironically, I ended up doing that very thing anyway.”

He turns to you and smiles. “Not that I mind it all the time. Taking care of my darling Rose is a pleasure I indulge in.”

You refuse to acknowledge this and remain with your eyes fixated on your hands. Yosuke gives a light chuckle at your frustrated silence and continues on.

“If you must know, I do a variety of things upstairs: overseeing lab work, handling paperwork and analyzing data. It’s why I’m often busy, confined to my office. There’s a lot to be thoroughly analyzed, input, interpreted, and sent out for review. But that’s as intricate about my role here as I need to be with you. What I can say more openly is that I studied a bit in biomedicine. There are a multitude of fields within it. But the fascinating thing about this place is that there’s a lot of applications certain fields can have. Here, we often pervert those applications to benefit our own needs. It’s bewildering, really.

“In any case, you’ll find a few doctors here acquainted even moderately in biomedical and related fields: pharmacology, biochemistry, even medical statistics. There’s a lot to be done here, both above and below. It really depends on what we make public, and what we don’t.”

You aren’t sure what to make of any of this. Your face scrunches up in thought as you attempt to decipher Yosuke’s words as much as you can, but nothing makes sense. However, your doctor leans in a bit and examines your face with amusement.

“How cute,” he remarks, chuckling. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? What a precious thing you are, Rose. But I don’t expect you to understand all these fields and their complexities. They’re confusing to people like you. All you have to worry about is being cared for. You don’t have to lift a finger. We work hard for you.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing me any favors,” you grumble. “All you do is take advantage of me.”

“As some of us call it, ‘stress relief’,” Yosuke gives a bit of a laugh. “Now Rose, don’t be so upset. You should be glad to be so naïve, to have a hardworking doctor take care of your every need. Feed you, clothe you, bathe you.”

He leans in again and purrs. “Love you.”

You pull away from your doctor, making him again chuckle in amusement. He leans back away from you and keeps talking.

“Many girls in the real world crave that sort of thing. They want to be pampered and longed after by people like my associates and me. They’re predictable that way. Yet here you are with the opportunity to be cared for, to live out the fantasy, and you constantly reject it.”

“Because being rendered helpless isn’t a choice I have!” you shoot back angrily, clutching the comforter in your lap tightly. “Yosuke, if you really understand people even a little bit, why can’t you understand how this makes me feel? You keep seeing how awfully things affect me and continue tormenting me like it’s a game. Do you want me to lose my mind?!”

“I expect you won’t,” Yosuke remarks without batting an eye to your outburst. He gives a sly smile. “If you do, it’ll be that much easier for me to enter it, which is something I know you’re desperate to avoid. Your only choice is to remain self-sufficient in keeping your own emotions at bay. It makes it easier on me. Though, if you’re ever struggling and can’t much turn to anyone at all, I won’t mind helping you out, Rose. Gale’s probably better for it than I am, but I can always ease your mind with a warm embrace and a few sweet words. You’ve always liked that.”

“I don’t,” you remain firm. “I don’t like it at all.”

“Now Rose,” Yosuke warns. “I said don’t lie to me. Even if they’re small lies.”

“Stop that!” you snap. You then bring your hands up to your head and press your fingers against your temples. “Can we just go back to the questions?”

Yosuke smirks. “Alright. As you like, my pet. Ask away.”

You slowly drop your hands and place them back over the comforter. This conversation is starting to get more and more frustrating, but you decide to try keeping focused.

“What is your boss like?”

“Firm, as I said,” Yosuke answers you openly. “He’s fairly stern in my experience. Granted, I don’t have to see him that often because he usually keeps me aboveground.”

“Why is that?”

“There are certain things done underground that are hardly made my business,” is Yosuke’s blunt response.

“In any case, my superior’s hardly jovial or lively like some of his employees have sometimes been. I’ve never known him to be openly kind, though he is capable of showing kindness or mercy in small, subtle ways, as I said. The man does act differently out there, depending on who he’s dealing with. As I told you once before, I knew him as a different man before coming here. He seemed normal. Perhaps even a little friendly. But I’ve come to understand this is a façade he puts on for specific people. Here, he’s colder and more unyielding. I think that’s who he truly is.”

“I suppose a guy like that has to be cold,” you mull it over. “He seemed harsh when I met him. He even riled up Mom.”

“Your mother and my superior likely have some kind of history, but not one I know of,” Yosuke remarks, exhaling a bit of breath through his nose. “Even for as much about her as I know, there are things even she kept from me. But I don’t much lose sleep over not knowing. The woman is nothing more than a coworker to me now that we’re not seeing one another. She’s one that I owe a great debt to, but one who I otherwise have no reason to care about.”

“She still seems to care about you,” you note with contempt. “Both of you are intertwined as far as I’m concerned.”

“And why is that, Rose?” Yosuke’s curiosity is piqued as his head slightly tilts. He watches as you again avoid looking into his olive eyes.

“You’re similar,” is what you choose to go with. “You see each other all the time, and you act like each other. You can’t tell me that-“

“You’re forgetting one more thing, aren’t you?” Your doctor sharply interrupts. This takes you aback, as you have absolutely no idea what he’s referring to.

“What?”

Yosuke gives a knowing laugh. “Our Numbers are intertwined themselves, aren’t they?”

Your eyes slightly widen, but you continue to avoid looking toward your doctor. However, he again grabs hold of your chin and leans in as he turns your head by force.

“You may not have been aware, but he looked at you a certain way the day I saw him,” he remarks with a low voice. His smile drops, though he remains ever coy. “The boy has a fondness for you, as you no doubt have one for him, right?”

“I-I don’t know,” you try to play this off. “Yosuke, please, we’re just friends. I’ve told you.”

“I’m sure you were happy to see him today,” the man persists. You refuse to cave in and try being adamant on your position.

“I saw everyone today,” you tell him firmly. “I was happy to be with everyone. We were all together, like I already said. I don’t always get to be with everyone, so I actually enjoyed myself today because we had the chance to do something as a group.”

“Mm? What did you all do today? You’d have been fairly pruny if you swam the entire day.”

You have nothing to hide, right? Of course not. Just tell him what you did, easy.

“We were in the crafts room for a while beforehand,” you tell your doctor. “But the swimming happened after. It was close to the end of the day, anyway. But I didn’t swim for very long myself.”

Yosuke watches your face a moment, but eventually smiles.

“I see,” he remarks as he releases his grip on your chin. You’re not sure you fooled him, but you really had nothing to hide this time. And you didn’t necessarily stretch the truth this time like you had when you lied about your time with Lav. Your heartbeat, you find, is a little bit elevated in pace. However, you have no reason to worry when the man didn’t touch anything but your face. Right?

You eye your doctor closely, trying to interpret what he might be thinking. However, he remains difficult to translate. You’re usually able to notice subtle expressions of his, but this time, he’s quite hard to read. He’s remaining in your chair with a kind smile on his face. But he doesn’t seem to bother you about your day any further.

“Do be careful with yourself, Rose,” Yosuke warns. “Young men like that don’t always know how to take care of fragile things like you properly. Besides, he must be sickly with how long he’s been here. I can’t imagine he’ll last much longer anyway.”

“Don’t say that!” You shoot back in offense. You shake your head at the man. “I’m sick of you constantly berating my friends like that. They’re all I have, you know!”

“You have me, Rose,” Yosuke answers firmly. “Don’t forget who takes good care of you. None of your friends could protect you from the other doctors. None of them could treat your injuries if you’re hurt. The most they can do is give you pep talks. That only goes so far. You need to be properly attended to.”

“It’s not like they have much of a chance to do anything beyond sit around and wait to be plucked from the hall for sex,” you grumble. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic again. We should go back to what we were discussing.”

“That’s not much for you to decide, is it?” Yosuke lowers a brow. “But alright, my pet. I’ll give my dear little Rose what she wants.”

You turn away when Yosuke reaches a hand over to sweetly stroke your cheek with the back of his hand and fingers. Even if it’s possible he’s accepted your story, he’s still insistent about keeping you away from anyone showing even an inkling of interest in you. Even if you’re not sure how to feel about Cyrus or Lav, it’s getting to a point where saying you’re just friends and that you don’t love them isn’t exactly the truth. You aren’t sure how long you can keep telling Yosuke this before he starts to know you’re lying with certainty, even before you do.

Desperate to move on from this topic, you try to think of anything else you can bring up to ask your doctor. You’re shocked by how open he’s been about certain things, even if he’s refusing to tell you others.

“What about the others?” You question.

“Hm? What of them, my pet?” Yosuke inquires curiously, dropping his hand.

You continue to avoid looking back at your doctor after that discomforting ordeal.

“You said that you can’t do what the other doctors do. So, what do they do? I already know what Lilah does, I remember hearing Milos does surgery, and I’ve learned Gale’s role in assessment and observation. What about everyone else?”

“Ah?” Yosuke makes a curious noise. “I’m surprised you don’t already know a few more after your recent visit with Nathaniel. By which I mean your recent encounter with him after your shot.”

You lower your brows as you contemplate this. “He…was examining my body, I remember.”

“He specializes in female sexual health, Rose,” Yosuke says plainly before you have the chance to try piecing it together. “His partner specializes in male care himself. Those two have more free time than any of us, really. Next to Milos, anyway, since we don’t often get regular injuries as often as we used to. But anyway, all those two eccentric men are good for is examining patients’ bodies regularly to make sure they’re healthy and have no complications. When they aren’t busy with that or their own Numbers, our superior tasks them with various other things. Collecting items for the recreational areas, copious other kinds of paperwork, checking up on this or that, et cetera.”

“I guess that’s why he had his fingers inside of me,” you grumble embarrassedly, folding your arms and holding your upper arms tightly. “I woke up to that. I didn’t really like it.”

“It’s part of the checkup process,” Yosuke says with a laugh, amused by your reaction. “In any case, I can’t really say much of what the others do. What I’ll tell you is that Sven and Jude work closely together, and they do just as much paperwork as me, if not more. Micah and your Mother have much more difficult, involved jobs. Certainly busier, and far more hands on than mine.”

You raise a brow and finally turn to look at your doctor. “All mom does is file papers. That doesn’t seem hard.”

“Rose, you really are so naïve,” Yosuke smirks. “From what I do know, your mother used to have a different role. She still does to an extent since she still has a level of expertise that’s important to us and requires occasional consultation for.”

“Did…Micah take her place in that role?” You ask curiously.

“Somewhat. She still works with him from time to time, but he heads whatever she used to.”

This is an odd revelation. You’d not expected the two to have a similar expertise. Though, this explains whatever closeness they share. You’re shocked that someone as young as Micah could help whatever it was Mom is good at. He hardly strikes you as the type to have gone to or completed any formal education. Though, your doctor had said that not everyone really got adequate training before coming here.

Yosuke’s voice interrupts your train of thought. “In any case, your Mother’s been confined to the office for a long time, with reason. You know how she is. She’s always caused trouble.”

He laughs to himself. You suppose he’s reminiscing something again, but you have no idea what.

“Granted, your mother is good at filing. She can be organized, even if she herself is a chaotic individual. Plus, the office work keeps her quite distracted and at bay. She does still have time to fool around, but it’s far less than it used to be.”

“Won’t that change with Monica around?” You question curiously. “It seems like your boss put her there to replace Mom.”

“I doubt that your mother is going anywhere,” Yosuke refutes this notion. “She’s important.”

“Why?”

“Because of what she does, Rose. Don’t worry your head about the specifics.”

You slightly scowl at his lack of information. You wish you could understand that woman and why it is she’s allowed to continue being here despite her atrocious behavior. Not only is she a menace to you, but she’s an inconvenience even to her boss. Yet, she remains.

“You are correct to assume that this is greatly affecting her, though,” Yosuke does admit. “Your mother’s been feeling out of place lately. Potentially unwanted and desperate for the attention, if what Nathaniel told me about his recent brush with her is correct. She’s been so frustrated with my rejection of her that she’s turning to anyone she can. Granted, she’s fooled around plenty of times before. She’s the type to. But I’ve never heard of her so blatantly trying to hit on anyone here. I’ve only ever seen her slightly partial to Milos, but I have no idea why that might be. Nor do I care.”

“I’ve only seen them together twice,” you say. “They’ve just greeted each other kindly, but that’s about it.”

You shiver as you remember the feeling of Milos’ hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you up. That day, Mom had gotten fairly angry at you for pointing out her fresh injuries that she’d received after acting out. One of your hands slowly reaches up to your neck as you remember her pinning you against the wall furiously.

“Are you alright, Rose?” Yosuke asks, leaning in as he notes your worried expression. “Is something the matter?”

“She hurt me,” you say lowly. “The first time I saw them together, Mom got mad about me mentioning her injuries. She grabbed my neck so suddenly, she scared me. Milos showed up after. I remember him greeting her so sweetly, and I-I remember feeling panicked because of them both.”

“I was unaware she hurt you,” Yosuke notes. You see a faint glint of upset in his olive eyes, but he otherwise doesn’t react. “But your mother is the kind to fawn over her looks. She relishes in what sex appeal she thinks she has. Evidently, there’s beauty in her, but she masks it by being so utterly insane. Regardless, she doesn’t much like being reminded of the things that affect her negatively. You know that by now.”

He gives a light scoff.

“I presume that’s part of where her hatred for Lilah stems from. I can’t say for sure that Lilah’s being so young is the only reason for the tension between them, but your mother certainly has a tendency to get jealous of the strangest of things. I suppose she’s the same way with Monica.”

“Why would she be jealous of her?”

Yosuke shrugs. “Monica’s a beautiful woman for her age, sure. But she’s also naïve and joyful. Your mother has her own demons and negative emotional tendencies that make her so difficult to deal with. I can personally handle her. I even trust her despite her cumbersome tendencies. But not everyone can, and so some doctors tend to avoid her. Meanwhile, Monica waltzes in and is ever chipper; oh-so friendly and sweet.

“She’s a good woman and a good sport, so far as I’ve seen. Your mother seems foul in comparison. Not only that, but Monica’s invaded your mother’s space and won’t be leaving it anytime soon. So, evidently her feelings of undesirability are only strengthened. We’ve been showing kindness and attention to Monica. Perhaps your mother feels left out, but I’m sure she’ll get over it. She’s just having one of her prolonged tantrums, I figure. She’s always been this way.”

You look down in contemplation. “Even Lilah seemed to put up with Monica a little easier, if in her own way.”

Yosuke raises a brow at this statement. “You met with her today?”

You realize then that this small remark might be incriminating, so you try to cover your tracks. But, you remain honest, so as not to raise any suspicion.

“Between the crafts room and the pool,” you explain. “I walked into the hall and saw Monica alone. Mom had left to go help Micah with something, apparently. But Lilah showed up and talked a little to Monica.”

You frown. “She was also really mean to me. But I guess she’s horrible to most everyone.”

“You stopped to chat?” Yosuke questions curiously. “I figured you’d have avoided them entirely.”

“I guess I wanted to know more about Monica,” you admit. “I pry, like you said. And she was alone at first before Lilah showed up. Granted, I don’t like you doctors at all, but…I just wasn’t sure, and I wanted to understand who she was. But Mom doesn’t like Monica talking to anyone since she’s so new. She was kind of open, anyway.”

Yosuke laughs softly. “She’s friendly, certainly. Even if she has any ulterior motives, she’s at least genuine in her kindness. I can tell that much. But her kindness is something that might be to a fault, from what it looks like. She probably shouldn’t have been talking with you at all. Care to tell me what you found out, Rose?”

“Nothing of value,” you pout. “And that’s the truth. I just…I feel like she’s not really as new as she says she is, but I have no reason to think she isn’t when I talk to her. She genuinely just doesn’t seem like she knows much about this place, but things feel so off.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Yosuke shrugs. “She’s new to me. I hardly even know what she does, or what she’s going to be doing. I haven’t much chatted with the woman myself, and nobody’s cared to fill me in since my only business is upstairs and with you. In any case, you shouldn’t pry so much. It’s enough that I’m speaking so openly with you about what I have.”

He then pauses and looks at you with another curious look in his eye.

“You seem so adamant on wanting to understand meaningless things, Rose. Have you finally thought properly about why?”

You shake your head.

“No. I told you I just wanted to understand what I don’t,” you remark, unable to really conjure a good enough reason. “I said I don’t know if knowing will make me feel better. Maybe it’ll just give me something to think about and occupy my time here. I don’t know. But there’s more to this place than there seems. I just don’t know why that is or what there is that’s so strange. I just don’t feel comfortable here. Not only because of what you doctors do to us, but because of other things, like people disappearing or dying or being taken away. I just don’t get it. There has to be more to this.”

Yosuke frowns. “You shouldn’t think too hard on it.”

You ball up your fists. “Why?! Why not? What’s the point in not knowing?”

“What’s the point in knowing?” Yosuke calmly says back to you. “I told you, Rose. It’s dangerous. Our boss simply doesn’t want you Numbers to know these things, so it’s best you don’t let being naïve to this place eat at you so much. All you need to know is that you’re ours, and that we’re kind enough to bother giving you food, water, and something to do.”

He gives a bit of a sly grin. “And a little bit of playtime, of course.”

“Why doesn’t it upset you that you don’t know certain things either?” You demand, remaining focused on your previous statement and ignoring your doctor’s coy remark. You watch uncomfortably then as Yosuke stands up, towering slightly above you. However, you remain adamant on your questioning of him. “Obviously, there’s things even you don’t get clued in on. You’re not even that important here if that’s the case. Why doesn’t that bother you?”

“Rose,” Yosuke warns with another light frown. He sits at the edge of your bed now, close to and angled toward you. With one hand, he gently grips your chin watches your face with a soft expression. “My only focus is you now. I know quite a lot, but what I don’t have to concern myself with only leaves me more time to spend with you. Even for as busy as I get, it’s been lovely to toy with my pet.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you demand. Yosuke chuckles.

“You keep being so stubborn, my dear. Don’t shy away from me so much. You’re still mine.”

He watches pleasantly as you shift your eyes away with discomfort. You keep refusing to look the man in the eyes, but he finds this far too amusing.

“Lay down, Rose.”

This order takes you aback, and your eyes widen. Immediately, you finally do look over at the man with uncertainty.

“What? W-why?”

“Please do as I say,” the man persists, dropping his hand from you. “Don’t worry about the reason. It’s not your place to worry about it anyway.”

You remain uneasy, but suppose you can’t much fight your doctor. He’ll do what he likes regardless. Without heckling him further, you quietly slip down along the bed and place your head against your pillow. Yosuke merely watches with a gentle smile as you again turn your head away from him. Your eyebrows lower as you lightly scowl.

“What now?” You question him. Yosuke does not immediately respond. Rather, he leans his torso forward and to the side so that he can better hover himself over you. He presses both his hands into the bed on either side of you, and he brings his face closer to yours.

“Rose, listen to me,” he says firmly, though his voice remains low. “Promise me that you won’t say anything about what I’ve told you today to anyone.”

“…Why?” Your eyes have no choice but to remain fixated on Yosuke’s olive gaze. You aren’t sure what he’s getting at, but he genuinely sounds concerned about this. You’ve never noted him to be so concerned about anything before, other than the times he’s had to pluck you from a bad situation or make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Because being so careless with your words can get us both in trouble,” Yosuke answers. “Not just me, not just you. I have reason to suspect you tell the other Numbers a lot of things you shouldn’t. Remember that my boss finds a lot of things out quite easily. Not right away, but eventually. Don’t be stupid. Understand, Rose?”

It’s not something you want to admit, but he probably has a point. You’ve been fairly open about risky things as it is, and you could face repercussions at any moment. There is still the chance that things like talking with Charlie, or your scheme under the table with Cyrus, Eight, and Lav, weren’t as hidden as you’d have liked. But it was worth a shot. Even if those things get you in trouble, you had to try something. In the latter case, you couldn’t just sit idly by and let yourself wither in your awful feelings about and memory of what happened to Jay. As for the doll you made today, you just didn’t want her to be forgotten. You wouldn’t have wanted to be either.

“Do you understand?” Yosuke repeats himself, again remaining firm. You glance away for just a moment, but eventually do return your eyes to Yosuke’s face and give a slow nod. For once, you’ll obey him. You aren’t much sure what to expect from the boss should he choose to punish either of you. As it is, you know Yosuke will be punished very soon himself. If Marcellus already knows about what he did, the boss can’t be too far behind in knowing himself.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted when you feel Yosuke grab your chin again, more firmly this time. He smiles at you now.

“Rose, there’s another condition I’d like to place,” he says lowly. “I’ve given you a lot of information, after all.”

You scowl. “Was calling me Rose not enough?!”

This question, like many other things tonight, amuses your doctor. He gives a bit of a chuckle.

“My pet, of course not. I want a kiss.”

Displeased but impatient for the man to leave, you sigh tiredly and lean up to give your doctor a quick peck before laying your head back down.

“There.”

Again, Yosuke laughs. “How darling of you, my dear Rose. I appreciate your attempt, but that’s not what I meant. I want you to kiss me sweetly. I want you to put a little effort in it. Like you did once before.”

You realize he means the night you genuinely allowed him to have sex with you. This causes you to grow furious, but you remain with your voice calm.

“That was a long time ago,” you remind him. “When I thought I could trust you even a tiny bit. Now I know better.”

“Do you?” Yosuke teases, smirking. “You’re still my precious, naïve Rose. You may think you know what you want and what people intend for you, but you’re wrong.”

You try to speak up, but Yosuke again presses his thumb against your lips, stopping you. He smiles amusedly as your eyes slightly widen at his coming even closer to your face.

“Most of all, I want you to smile for me,” he tells you sweetly. “Just once.”

Though both your hands are under the comforter, you bring one out and wrap it around Yosuke’s wrist, attempting to pry his grip.

“No!” you verbalize your refusal once his hand’s grip is at least a little looser enough for you to. “You can’t have that. Especially not that.”

Yosuke laughs. “Is your smile precious to you? It certainly is to me.”

You turn your head away, but Yosuke again remains insistent. He clamps his hand over your mouth and forces you to face him once more, You grip his wrist tightly, but fail this time to pull him off of you. You guess he was being lenient about letting you pull him away the first time, just for fun.

“I can just as easily take my promise back,” Yosuke reminds you. “If you’d rather have my cum inside of your pretty little mouth instead of my tongue. Though, I likely won’t stop there if you opt for the former.”

Your eyes again widen, and your heart jumps. You don’t want to risk being caught if he chooses to fuck you, and you certainly don’t want to go another round with him again after he just finished using you.

Evidently, choosing to do as he asks is your only viable option right now. Even if he chooses to fuck you anyway, you have to try avoiding it if possible. So, you loosen your grip on his wrist and let your hand drop down over the comforter, at your side. You shift your gaze away, and your doctor is able to tell you’re giving in willingly, as he drops his hand back down to your chin, gripping it.

“Look at me, Rose,” he sweetly bids you. “Smile.”

When Mom had asked you to smile and beg for her to touch you, it was uncomfortable, but something you were able to pull off. But for Yosuke, knowing how valuable your smile is to him, knowing how much it drives him…

You hesitate a moment, but try your hardest to look the man hovering over you in the eye as ordered. Your heart continues to pump at a quickened pace, and your hands lightly tremble in response to your nervousness. You want so desperately to just disappear now, but Yosuke’s firm grip of you assures that you’re not going anywhere.

Your doctor watches your face expectantly, still gently flashing a smile as he awaits yours. You suck in a breath and close your eyes just a moment, preparing yourself mentally to do as asked. After a brief silence, you again open your eyes and force your lips to curve into a sweet smile for your doctor. You look upon him with an endearing kindness, your visage reflecting the opposite of how you really feel. Yosuke watches with fondness in his olive eyes as he examines your precious smile. He remains enamored by you, captivated. His breath deepens just slightly as he watches you, but the man wastes no time leaning in and forcing his lips eagerly upon yours.

His kisses are initially soft and sweet, though he keeps your head in place while he takes you. Your hand clutches the plush fabric of the comforter, gripping it tightly as you endure Yosuke’s mouthy embrace. You force yourself to play along with this as well, kissing the man back and working your lips against his gently. After the initial sweetness, Yosuke resorts to wrapping his tongue eagerly around yours.

However long this kiss lasts feels even longer from where you are. You don’t want to do this, yet you’re left without choice yet again as Yosuke works you. However, it eventually does end, and the man pulls away from you. He sucks in a breath as he finishes up, then looks down at your red face with a smirk on his freshly kissed lips. He leans into your ear and murmurs,

“Good girl, Rose.”

He lets go of your chin, but does pet your cheek by gliding the back of his hand up and down it sweetly. You glance away while still clutching your comforter. You just want this to end. You’re afraid he’s going to go further, that he’ll break his promise as he’s often so apt to do.

“It wasn’t quite the same as before,” your doctor notes. “I could still tell you were forcing it. Nonetheless, your attempt was precious. I adore you, my pet.”

He gives you one last kiss on the other cheek before pulling away from you completely. “Now get some rest, mm?”

You say nothing, merely turning your head away and awaiting the man’s departure. Hearing that he’s finally going to leave you alone lets you breathe a sigh of relief. Yosuke chuckles a bit at your reaction and pushes off the bed, standing up. He quietly heads to your bedroom door, but doesn’t immediately exit when it opens. Rather, he turns his body, angling it slightly toward you so that he can see you. He gives another smile.

“Goodnight, my dearest. Sleep well.”

You say nothing, instead staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily as your heartbeat slows its pace and your anxiousness subsides. After he says his goodbyes, Yosuke finally leaves. The shutting of the door behind him makes you flinch a little, but you otherwise remain still with your eyes fixated above you.

Not sure what to make of everything that’s gone on just now, you lay there a while in your comforter. Even for as tired as you got with all the activity you did today, you still feel a tinge restless right now. You wind up heaving a sigh and bringing your uncovered arm up to your lips to wipe your mouth of Yosuke’s lingering taste.

If anything, you feel as disgusted as you do relieved. Even when he isn’t blatantly using you, your doctor’s hovering presence is nonetheless not welcome. You should be proud at how distant you’ve grown from him, but the unfortunate thing is that you still do react to his touch even when you don’t want it. Maybe you’re sick and secretly do still crave it while being utterly aware of how wrong it is for him to toy with you this way. You do blush, shiver, and whimper at his touch even when you know it’s coming. Granted, it’s becoming a little easier to put up with and transition into certain things, even if you have to prime yourself for the unpleasantness of it. Were Yosuke to have done something like he did last night to you back when you first came, you might have broken immediately.

The man’s gradually built you up and accustomed you to this kind of treatment. Even when you still resent it, you aren’t unable to handle it. Though, maybe that’s more of a positive thing to say. You can handle a lot more than you could have before. It certainly doesn’t mean you should have to put up with it, but at least you’re able to push through. Even when things get awful, you have managed to get by. Perhaps slowly, but get by nonetheless.

At the very least, you’re glad Yosuke didn’t try to use you. He kept his promise this time, though that doesn’t mean he deserves any sort of pat on the back for opting not to fuck you against your will. He did still threaten you. He still had a hold on you even when he pretended to be kind. He enjoys toying with you that way.

Thinking on him again, you desperately hope you can sneak by without him ever finding out you did what you did today. Nothing he asked was incriminating, you think. He didn’t touch your chest or neck or wrist, so he couldn’t have felt your rising heartbeat. He couldn’t have seen any lies in your eyes when you told nothing but the truth this time, and he gave no indication of suspicions against you. You should be fine, right? Of course, should things progress, or should you ever make a habit out of having sex with your companions for any reason, it might become harder to hide. Yosuke will eventually know what’s going on.

It’s unclear why he’s so jealous of Cyrus or anyone else. It makes him look just as desperate as Mom. And, for that matter, you wonder exactly how she feels about the possibility of you and Cyrus being at all closer. She fetishized the idea of watching him fuck you, after all. Moreover, how would she and Yosuke act toward one another if they knew you and Cyrus had some kind of genuine feelings for one another? Mom would hound the man constantly for visits, and Yosuke would be adamant against letting you see Cyrus. The same would go for Lav, should Yosuke know how close you’ve gotten with her. At least with Lilah, you don’t have to worry. She’d never want to see you, and Yosuke would never let you. You and Eight can maintain a good friendship without you having to fear a doctor forcing him onto you for pleasure. You’re not sure how he’d react to being forced into that situation.

Sven would probably be willing to let you and Lav have a go at it in front of him, though. He seemed all too eager to watch you two together the day you saw him with Lav in the hall. But you figure he’d be nowhere near as bad with pairing Numbers as someone like Mom. You pity Cyrus for having to put up with her. Though, you suppose it’s fitting the one who’s championed the competition in time spent at the facility would have someone so vile and difficult to deal with. You feel bad for the guy, but doubt anyone else could handle her like Cyrus does, for as long as he has.

You then start to wonder just what kind of history all the other doctors have with one another. You know so little about them other than the small things you’ve seen between them, or heard from them directly. Your talks with Nathaniel, Gale, and Jonathan have proved to be the most “rewarding” in terms of understanding the doctors personally. However, even they had given limitations on what they chose to divulge. Other times, things merely didn’t come up.

You suppose what Yosuke had to say to you tonight was only slightly of note, but not at all useful to you really. Though, you will keep it in mind. Your brain rattles trying to understand everyone’s roles here. You’re not sure why Yosuke failed to mention what jobs Micah, Mom, Sven, and Jude really have, or what they specialize in. But if there’s a chance he doesn’t know things about this facility, then there’s also a chance he doesn’t know specifically about what they do. That doesn’t feel right, but you can’t know. As it is, you have no idea anything he said was even true, though you have no reason to believe he’d lie about anything in particular, other than perhaps his role aboveground. Even below.

But the more you think on it, the more you suspect Yosuke isn’t a major player in whatever is going on here. Not only because he’s so disconnected from the underground, but because he’s so new compared to the others, whom you’ve learned were already here when he came. Even so, he’s still a huge burden in your life. He’s inescapable. As much as you hate to admit it, the man is intertwined with you. No matter what happens to you at this facility, Yosuke has or will have some involvement in it. Whether you die, get pregnant, try to run away, try to scratch at the surface of this operation, or even something as simple as become involved with another Number, Yosuke has to deal with it just as much as you do.

Frustrated by this thought, you wind up tucking your hand back under the cover of the bed and turning over on your side. Your comforter wraps snugly over your body, and you clutch it tightly against yourself. You’re facing your desk now, and can’t help but notice the journal still atop it, toward the back edge. You don’t want to touch the thing, but the longer you stare at it, the more annoyed you become. You furrow your brows as you stare blankly at it, thinking on everything that you’ve dealt with from your doctor and all the other doctors.

Strangely, for as bothered as you are now, you aren’t out of sorts. Maybe the good you felt today helped cushion any blows and ease a lot of frustrations, especially ones about the Numbers themselves. Your worries with Lav and Cyrus were definitely assuaged to some extent, and any bad blood between you and Violet seems to have been somewhat cleared. If anything, she has only herself to focus on now. You, on the other hand, just have to take care to allow her to grow and not hinder her with anything that might be too much for her to take. As Cyrus said, she doesn’t have to know what happened between him and you.

You’re sure Violet will do much better now that she’s come to say her piece, talked with Cyrus, and worked things out. Her growing out of the negative tendencies she’s accustomed herself to probably won’t happen overnight, but you figure she’s making good progress. Hopefully, she’ll help Eight come further out of his shell without hounding him too terribly. For as much as you know how to handle him, she probably gets his reserved side more than you do. In fact, despite the two having hardly spoken, Eight seemed willing to let her in without too much of an issue. He’s always been a bit forward about his disdain for things, yet he had no issue being kind to her.

You can’t much fathom rescinding so much from others willingly the way he does unless there’s some emotional component involved. The times you’ve pulled away yourself was when you were dealing with a lot or trying to avoid hurting others. Since you’ve had your own emotional issues and reactions, you can understand why Violet’s been so hesitant to deal with others. She had a lot of self-doubt that translated into pushing others away, with only Cyrus being the thing that grounded her. Eight, however, is adamant on having his time alone. Even though he’s gotten a bit closer with the rest of the group, he still prefers to be in the background. Granted, you’ve had a few quieter moments where you’ve come to understand what that’s like without it being a bad thing. Time to read to yourself, for instance. It’s nice.

It’s strange how things have changed. You wonder just what else will change in time.

You continue looking on at the journal atop your desk. It’s still a little worn from your previous attack on the thing. You suppose you were just so furious then that you didn’t much care what you did. Perhaps you have a habit of going ahead with stupid things. You let your emotions run wild at times, but it’s not like that makes you weak. You’d rather be able to still feel. It reminds you you’re still here, even if the feelings are painful. As you told Cyrus today, pain you can handle. It’s always awful, but it’s not as if you haven’t managed to overcome some pains, both physical and emotional. You know you can keep going, as long as you have a reason to.

Yosuke can do whatever he likes. You’re not going to budge. Even when you give into him physically, you won’t let him have you. You can’t. He’s going to scare you sometimes; he’s going to make you uncomfortable. You might even crumble a little beneath him. But as long as you don’t let him overtake you entirely, you’re sure you’ll be okay. You just have to try holding on as best you can. Whatever might happen if he finds out what you did with Lav and Cyrus is going to likely be terrible, but you suppose you’ll handle it. It’s not like the uncertainty of whatever punishments you could endure doesn’t scare you, though. You have every right to be afraid. Like Three, you want to cower and hide away. Sometimes you can’t help reacting that way to certain things. Still, you have to try pushing through it.

You realize your eyes haven’t once left the journal as you’ve thought on things. You aren’t even sure how long you’ve been laying here all wrapped up, but you’re encumbered by the sight of the journal enough to want to say your piece. If Yosuke reads what you write, fine. He can’t interrupt you when your words are on paper. He can’t tease you or take your focus away. Maybe this is the best way you can really get what you have to say out. You feel as if you’ve been saying the same things over and over with him to no avail. He relishes in teasing you, in watching you squirm beneath him, in watching you recoil from his touch. He adores your hesitance, even as much as he adores your stubbornness. One gives him a reason to tease you, the other gives him a reason to lord over you insistently.

Sighing, you toss your blanket aside and sit up before swinging your legs off the side of the bed. In a huff, you push off the mattress and walk to your desk, sliding your chair aside that Yosuke left in its place by your bedside. You grab the pen from your desk drawer and promptly open the journal. Your first note to Yosuke is still there. Though, you aren’t sure if it was toward him or all the doctors in general. You remember being utterly furious then, with good reason. You hated feeling helpless beneath your doctor, dolled up for his fetishistic desire to dominate an innocent thing that was unable to move, unable to think, unable to fight back.

Your hand grips the end of the desk tightly as you recall that night. You really wonder if telling Yosuke the truth way back when would have really prevented this all from spiraling downward so hard. You highly doubt it. One way or another, Yosuke would have done what he did. His obsession of you began even far before he drugged you. All that night did was make it progress much faster.

You’re glad that the effects of that awful drug weren’t permanent. You’d have never forgiven yourself if you started fawning over your doctor because you were forced to by some artificial, chemically induced reaction in your body. You’ve always given into Yosuke’s use of you, brought to feel pleasure you never wanted. But were it involuntary and uncontrollable, were you unable to stop yourself from fawning over and submitting to your doctor so eagerly, you’d have been left feeling hopeless. Luckily, it seems like Yosuke can’t easily get that drug without permission. It’s been said that the thing is quite dangerous, after all. You wonder what the purpose of such a drug is, then, if it isn’t for you Numbers.

Again, you glance down at the journal and frown. You finally decide to write in it, hoping to express to Yosuke what he fails to let you when he’s present. You flip past the page with your first, bitter note and decide to start fresh. Taking the pen tightly in your fingers, you press the tip to the page and begin to write:

I know you’ll read this, so maybe this is the best way to explain how I feel without you consistently brushing my words aside or interrupting me. Even if Gale reads it too, or if you tell them about what I say so that they can learn about me, I don’t really care. These are things you probably already know and willingly ignore just so you can keep having your fun with me. But I’m too tired to care about the consequences of my words now.

I don’t know how else to tell you how much you frustrate me, Yosuke. I feel like I keep shouting it out to you, only for you to ignore me completely. Everything you do to me makes me feel miserable. I know I’ve told you it feels physically good, and maybe it was a mistake to ever say so. I guess I indulged that part of you that wanted so desperately for me to give into you. But like I’ve said, my mind and body are separate.

You’re right when you say I can’t fight back, that you own me. I’m powerless against you when you tie me up or pin me down, when you mess with my head, when you scare me. But you don’t have as much power over who I am as you think you do. Even If you keep me in your grasp, you can’t hold me the way you want.

I’m learning a lot more the longer I’m here. Learning to fight you, learning to stand up on my own, learning to cherish and love people other than you. I don’t care if you lock me up or hurt me in your jealousy of things that make me happy. Things that aren’t you. All you’ll do by punishing me is drive me further away from you.

There are a lot of things I may not know, but I know how you are. And if you think I don’t, then at the very least, I’m certainly learning. All that does is give me a way to refuse you. The longer you play your games with me, the more I will come to understand how to beat them. There will come a point where you can’t phase me at all. Maybe you’ll be bored of me then. You’ll have failed to capture me like you wanted, and you’ll give up, like you always seem to do.

I hate being here, Yosuke. You hurt me so much, and I hate feeling like I’m powerless. I want to go home, yet every time I try to think about what home is, my mind goes blank. I can’t live with that. I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t believe at all that my life was as miserable as you said it was. Maybe I had a family who loved me, maybe I had someone I curled up with at night. Someone who wasn’t you.

I’ve been robbed of a normal life, and I can’t ever forgive you or anyone else who’s a part of this operation for taking that away. Not just from me, but from everyone I love. You don’t understand the shit you put us through because you’re atop us, in power. You probably couldn’t last as long as us if you were put in this position. Maybe even you would crumble in the face of misery, and maybe I’d be satisfied to see that happen.

I know you’ll probably get furious reading these words, but this is how I really feel. Even if you’re going to brush this off like you do when I say it aloud, I still want to say it. I’ll repeat myself as much as I can until you understand.

I don’t know what awaits me in the future. I’m terrified to think of how much hurt you’ll continue to inflict the worse your obsession for me gets. For as much as I want to fight you, I am equally as terrified of you. But fear isn’t how you control a person. Fear and pain can be overcome. Those of my friends who deal with the harshest of doctors here attest to that.

I’ve dealt with a lot, and I know I will continue to deal with more. At some point, I will learn how to work through it without a hitch. I will fight you as long as I can.

Do whatever you think you have to. All I can do is deal with it. But push a person too far, and they just might turn on you. Even if it costs them their life. Sometimes things are worth fighting for. I know I’m not strong enough to do anything outwardly dangerous. I’m still too burdened by fear and uncertainty to act out like I wish I could. But someday, I might fight back. And if not me, someone will.

You aren’t sure where these words are really coming from, but you don’t regret writing them once you’re done. At the very least, you’re able to stand here and rationalize your feelings without the burden of pure disdain clouding your capacity to convey words adequately.

The weight of these words may come at a price if Yosuke is that deeply upset by them, especially your words about your friends. Perhaps “love” was a strong word to use regarding the others, knowing that he’ll immediately assume you mean a romantic kind of love for specific people. But maybe you do mean it that way. Either way, the connection is stronger than any you could ever have with your doctor.

You can’t really predict what the man will do. Will he confine you? Hurt you? Will he hurt anyone else? Whatever it is, you’ll just have to deal with it. You’d rather not sacrifice your dignity just to be safe. Even when you’ve done so, things have continued to go awfully for you, so what’s the point anymore? As for anyone else, it’s not as if Yosuke can really hurt them. If he tries, he’ll get in trouble, right?

You sigh and lean on your flat hands which you’ve now pressed against the desk after dropping your pen. Hanging your head, you wonder whether you’re just making a mistake being so open. But it’s not as if you’ve hidden these feelings away. You’ve been quite clear with Yosuke about how he makes you feel, how you’re tormented by him and how you don’t and won’t ever love him.

You’re so stupid sometimes. But right now, you’re done saying your piece. You’re finally starting to feel exhausted enough to want the comfort of your bed and nothing else. You don’t really know how long you’ve been writing in order to start feeling like this, but you figure you’ve been at it for a while. You’ve never really written like this before. You’ve had a habit of lulling into a slumber when reading, after all, so maybe it’s the same with writing. Either way, you’re tired.

Promptly, you close your journal and push off your metal desk. You then turn and again move to enter the comfort of your bed. As you adjust yourself and your pillow, and bring an arm under the plush thing, you feel strands of your hair brushing against your skin. By now, your head’s completely dry.

As before, you bundle yourself in your comforter. Not wanting to think anymore, you wind up closing your eyes and waiting until you finally drift off.

---

You ‘re not sure if you’re dreaming. In your mind, there’s this unusual blur of colors in your sight, and numbing sensations that you’re unpleasantly aware of. In fact, you struggle to really comprehend if you’re awake or asleep with how vivid this feels, even for as formless as this vision is. You can’t much place it. All you see is swirling color that you can’t quite place a shape to, and your entire body remains still and burdened with the uncanny sensation of a strong gravitational pull, as if you’re being weighed down. You try to look down at yourself, but there’s really nothing there.

Even for as peaceful as the colors are, the discomforting sensations and the inability to sense yourself only leave you in a state of panic. You realize then that you’re in the midst of some nightmare, but you’re struggling to wake yourself up. You feel as rendered helpless now as you had when you had gotten your injection. Everything’s heavy, everything’s confusing. You don’t know where you are, what you are, anything.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is a sudden sound that you can’t make out. Whatever it is, it’s shaken you awake. Immediately, your eyes shoot open, and you realize you’ve been asleep after all. You don’t really even know quite when you dozed off, merely that you laid there with your thoughts buzzing about until you stopped thinking.

Slowly, your senses return to you. You flicker your eyes down to look at your hand, which you find has shifted from under your pillow to just below it, by your shoulder. You’re still on your side, though you’ve evidently tussled about with how strewn around your hair is. Strangely, you’ve even drooled a little. Maybe you were really out of it.

Actually, you feel really groggy. Were you just prematurely awoken? Were you drugged unsuccessfully before a visit? You don’t really know. Wearily you bring your hand to your head and close your eyes, trying to gather yourself before deciding to rise. You’re still utterly tired from being woken up so suddenly.

After assessing yourself, you remember you’d been shaken awake by a noise, so you finally decide to pull your torso up so that you’re sitting in order to see what it was. When you finally open your weary eyes and drop your hand, your heart practically stops. If you weren’t awake already, you are now.

At your now-open bedroom door is a worker. Not only is he standing there silently and watching you, but as your eyes trail down his thickly uniformed body, you notice a cuff clutched in his black, gloved hand.

Your eyes widen at the sight, and you clutch your comforter tightly as you look on at the worker. They remain still a moment, not entering just yet.

“W-what are you doing here?!” You question him. You should know by now that the workers can’t answer, but you can’t help but ask in your rising panic. “How did you even get in? I thought…”

You press your back against the wall when the worker slowly steps in. He reaches a cautious hand up to you, as if in reassurance. You don’t know what he’s intending, but you’re cornered now nonetheless.

“Stay away from me!” You cry out. “I don’t...!”

You have no idea what to even say now. Still, you wind up rising from your bed and pressing your hands against the wall desperately. Your heart is pounding out of your chest right now. Even worse is that when your eyes frantically flicker back to the door upon sensing a bit of movement, you catch sight of another worker entering the room while ferrying forward a wheeled bed. It looks familiar, but you’re too panicked to think about why right now.

“What’s going on?” You demand, balling your fists against the hard wall. “I don’t understand!”

Are you going to die? Are you going to be punished for all the things you did against the boss’ word? Were you pregnant without realizing it? No, Nathaniel and Marcellus had said you weren’t right?

As the first worker makes his way even closer to you, your panic exponentially grows. When he starts trying to reach out to grab your arm, you push him away and try to run past him. You aren’t thinking clearly right now. Your only instinct is to get away. You don’t know what’s going on, and all you fear now is dying.

You manage to just barely miss the second worker’s attempt to stop you as you run toward the door, but you don’t manage to make it out anyway. Immediately as you approach the thing, you’re stopped by another emerging figure. You bump into it with how quickly you were going, but are immediately grabbed by the wrists by two fairly strong hands.

As you look up, your eyes widen when you catch sight of a masked face. This mask resembles that of the workers, but it’s lenses are red.

“My, you’re skittish,” the man gripping you remarks with amusement, his voice slightly muffled from behind the mask. You know this voice, and you know this body before you. “But I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere without your escorts.”

“W-what do you want?” you demand, your body trembling. The man chuckles softly, but does not answer you. Instead he throws you back, causing you to stumble. The worker by the cart catches you before you fall, though he promptly lifts your body up, gripping you tightly when you start wildly struggling to get away from him.

Whereas the first worker tried to be cautious and careful with you, this one is a bit rougher. He slams your body against the wheeled bed, temporarily shaking you and causing you to freeze as you try to recover from the sudden pain. He firmly places his gloved hands against you, with one on your head, and the other against your waist. He forces you on your side, causing one arm to be stuck and pinned under. While you’re down, the first worker comes up from behind you to gently take your free arm. He guides it toward your other arm to conjoin both wrists, then snaps the band around both wrists behind your back. Once you recover from the initial shock of being thrown down, you continue begging the workers to stop, but they don’t much listen.

The man steps further into your room once you’re subdued, though he remains ever calm. He towers over your bedside, and slowly removes his mask as you lay wriggling desperately in a meager, thoughtless, and panicked attempt at getting away. Marcellus’ calm face greets you as the mask is pried away. He smiles down at you, watching your squirming body with his dark eyes. Even for as kind as this smile is, it’s equally as eerie as every other time you’ve seen it.

“Hmm, I guess it’s safe,” the man casually remarks, pondering the state of the room to himself. “I had a feeling you’d wake up. You seem to be getting a little accustomed to being anesthetized. But that’s alright. Adjusting the dose shouldn’t much be an issue.”

Were you being drugged earlier? Is that why you were so tired?

You watch with wide, panicked eyes as Marcellus hooks his mask somewhere on his belt, then pulls a full syringe from his pocket. It’s not quite as thick as the one he used on you when you had your shot, but definitely not as small as the ones you’ve usually seen. Your chest rises and falls sharply and rapidly as you suck in quick, shallow breaths. The worker that had bound your arms now holds onto your legs to keep you from kicking about. The second worker continues to hold you in place, though he does grab your hair and tugs your head back enough to the side to expose your neck for the doctor above you.

Marcellus calmly uncaps the syringe, exposing its slim, silver needle.

“Luckily, I came prepared,” he goes on, flicking the glass of the slim thing a few times before moving the needle toward your neck. “Now stay still, princess. I’m not going to hurt you. But if you struggle, I might on accident. You know how this works by now, don’t you?”

“What do you want?!” You shakily continue to beg for an answer. However, Marcellus gives none. He merely places his free hand upon your shoulder and carefully pricks your neck with the cold needle. He pumps the contents of the syringe into your body, then promptly retracts the thing, plucking it from your flesh.

Once the ordeal is done, the workers promptly release their grip on you, and you’re left lying there with a quickly beating heart and a shaking frame.

“P-please, tell me what’s going on!” You again beg, unsure of what else to say. You’re grasping desperately now for any kind of explanation, but continue to be given no information. Rather than immediately respond, Marcellus clamps a hand hard over your mouth and guides your head slightly to the side, so that you’re looking directly up at him as he hovers over you. Your neck is strained as you’re forced into this position, but you aren’t able to pull yourself away.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he tells you. He then tilts his head when he sees the ever-present panic still in your eyes. You continue to struggle in your bonds, but are unable to break them.

“Ten, right?” He questions, as if he didn’t already know your number. You try to shake your head away from his grip, but fail. Marcellus merely continues with his unwavering smile. “Don’t worry your weary little head. We’ll get you where you need to go without a hitch.”

Your eyes shift rapidly between the two workers standing idly by. They remain still now that they have nothing else to do. They’re practically like statues now. The unsettling sight merely adds to your panic. However, you start to notice that your heartbeat is slowing down, even though your fear remains. You’re sure you’ve been drugged with the anesthetic, and that it’s starting to take effect.

Left powerless, you merely clench your fists behind your back and look back at Marcellus fearfully. He continues to eye you calmly. However, he’s able to tell your consciousness is again starting to falter. He has an unusually enthralled glint in his dark eyes as he watches you now.

Promptly the man leans down into your ear, his skin almost touching yours. Rather than speak a few teasing words in your ear, Marcellus merely says with a firm, low tone,

“Don’t piss him off.”

Your breathing slows more and more, and by the time Marcellus pulls fully away from you, you’re utterly woozy. He removes his hand from you and again towers above your body. He stops addressing you after this, though you hear him speak something to the workers. Whatever he says is muffled to your ears as your senses start failing. The last thing you really hear is shuffling, but everything stops moments after.

Chapter 60: Isolate

The next time you are able to sense your body and the fact that you are awake, you have no chance to really comprehend awareness and surroundings properly. The moment your bout of unconsciousness slips away, you feel your body being rudely dragged off of whatever it is you were lying on. Your eyes don’t even have the chance to properly grasp what they’re seeing before you’re left in a whirl of dark shades and dim light.

Without being given a chance to think, you’re whisked out of your bed and onto the hard floor. You’re forced to kneel by a strong hand tightly gripping the back of your head and hair. You give a tired grunt as you’re adjusted forcefully, the position straining your left which still feel wobbly from being anesthetized.

When you’re able to sense your own body more acutely, you realize your hands are still bound together behind you. Your vision is foggy right now, but it’s not like there’s much light to adjust to. In fact, it’s quite the opposite: the room you’re in is fairly dim, perhaps equally as dim if not moreso than the halls.

Though your hair has fallen in strands over your cheeks and temples, consequently blocking some of your vision, you are at least able to pick up your head just slightly enough to observe your surroundings. Once your eyes adjust to the lack of light, you’re perplexed to find you’re in a moderately sized room, but one chock full of furniture and shelves and all manner of things that make it seem smaller and more compact than it is.

To your left is a metal work desk with its own black, wheeled chair before it. The desk is certainly larger and more spacious than the ones in the bedrooms. To the right of the desk is a tall file cabinet close to but not quite at a corner of the room to its right. Perpendicular to its placement, there’s a door that you’re not sure where it goes.

Your eyes flicker tiredly to the right side of the room only for you to see another door of similar style to your own bedroom door by the rightmost corner from where you are, if just a tinge wider. You notice a pad with a series of three buttons by the door, but it isn’t numerical. You figure it’s probably just to open, close, and lock it manually from the inside. It’s something you don’t have the luxury of doing in your own room.

You can’t much see behind you, but you know there’s more there. Presently, you’re close to one side of the room. Slowly, you trail your eyes back to the left from the door, preparing yourself to look ahead. Your eyes pass a few cabinets, one of which is solid, the other of which seems to be some kind of medical cabinet with glass doors. Inside the thing, you can make out various medical supplies on shelves and, presumably, in drawers that are more solid, but you aren’t able to tell what exactly those supplies are from where you are.

Finally, your eyes meet what’s directly before you. A foot or so ahead of you, there’s a pair of black boots flat on the ground, the heels of which are facing your direction. From them, your eyes trail upward, until you realize that you’re kneeling before the man you can only recall meeting once before this.

Despite how long ago it may have been, you recognize the white shirt with its sleeves rolled up, the grey vest, and finally the light blond hair of the man before you. Even without having to see his face, you’re stricken by the unpleasant memory of his appearance—his boots stepping over the blood pooling out of Jay’s body, his cold, grey eyes starting hauntingly into yours, the sharp, commanding voice echoing in the hall…

Your chest is tight, and breathing is, you find, a difficult task at the moment. Your fists clench behind you as you watch a bit of white smoke waft up from in front of the man. What little light there is in the room is coming from a rather large and wide console before him, one grounded on the floor with cables jutting out from behind it, and a few indentations on its large base that you presume are for storage, given that they’re filled with various devices you aren’t familiar with. Some of these devices even have wires, from that you can see.

Several keys and other unusual buttons that you don’t know what they do are tilted on a surface panel that’s facing toward you, and jutting from the bottom of this panel is a smaller, flatter edge. It doesn’t stick out very much, but certainly enough to hold a few things or to be leaned on. Upon this flat edge, close to boss’ right hip, there is a heavy-looking glass ashtray. It’s crystalline and thick rounded edges are kempt and clean, despite its filthy purpose.

Atop and affixed to the console’s panel is a large screen, surrounded by a bevy of much smaller screens that are presently blank but still emitting light. All screens you can see are tightly connected and supported on one another by metal rods, though you only barely notice the rods with how closely packed the screens are. There’s another wheeled chair off to the side of the console, though it’s likely been pushed away so that the man before you can stand as he is now in the middlemost portion of the wide thing.

The light of the console’s screens makes the boss’ smoke more apparent, and it illuminates the outline of the man’s skin and clothes as he stands there smoking carelessly. The rest of him is left in a gradient of dim hues to dark shadows as the brighter outline from the screens’ light fades inward towards the rest of his body.

For as quickly as your heart is beating, it also sinks when you realize these screens are likely linked to cameras. You now know that your suspicions and fears were true: you’re always being watched, and always have been. The boss likely knows everything you’ve said and done. Whether he has cameras in areas outside of the halls and rec rooms, however, you aren’t sure.

The man standing before you is not bothering to acknowledge you now. He persists in taking a drag of a cigarette he has in his right hand, giving a patient exhale up toward the ceiling. As your heart beats at a quickened pace, you remain anticipant to his word. Your eyes flicker to his other hand, which he has lingering atop what you think are a few stapled papers that are wedged in an open space on the tilted panel of the computer console, between a set of black keys and other flat, grey buttons. The only thing keeping these papers from sliding off the small incline of the panel is the glass ashtray. You can’t tell what’s on these papers from where you are other than some kind of printed notes. You’re too frazzled to really care.

Suddenly, your slightly lowered head is yanked back so that it’s more upright, and you let out a light, pained cry and a gasp at the sudden, discomforting intrusion of a sensation. The movement of your head forces your hair away from your face, allowing you to see things more clearly. You don’t have to really guess who it is behind you. You know it’s Marcellus, and seeing but a glimpse of his black-and-white figure above you as your head is pulled back only confirms this. You can’t exactly see him fully, but you’re sure he’s relishing in his chance to be rougher with you.

By now, you’re fully awake, if a touch slow and groggy from the remaining effects of the anesthetic. You don’t really know how long you’ve been asleep, or what may have been done to you in your unwarranted slumber. You’re not really in any position to ask questions right now, though. You remember Marcellus’ last words to you before you faded away. They were, in fact, the same words Lilah gave to Monica when you spoke with them in the hall:

Don’t piss him off.

So, you remain silent for now. At least, you aren’t sure what else you can really do. You’re also unsure how easily the boss becomes enraged, so you can do no more than wait and see. You’re sure you’re bound to make him angry one way or another. He had little patience for you before.

The sound of a page being flipped over interrupts your thoughts, and you see the boss’ head tilted down, indicating his careful observation of the page’s contents on the panel before him. He takes one last, deep drag of his cigarette before puffing out more smoke. The smell of it is dusty and harsh, yet strangely not unfamiliar. You at least know that smoke like this causes most people to cough and wheeze when they’re unaccustomed to it, yet you remain unbothered. As it is, you’re familiar with the stench. Why that is, you still don’t know.

The boss quietly retracts his hand from the pages on the panel and pulls his cigarette away before reaching over to snuff it out on his ashtray. Once he’s ready, he finally turns to face you and folds his arms. He looks down at you with his familiar, cold glare, his face remaining unemotive and unyielding as you remember it being last time. The light from the screens behind him continue to outline the man’s frame.

Your instinct is to demand what he wants from you, but his piercing glare alone keeps you fearfully silent. You try fighting against your desire to speak out this time, but remain with your fists nervously clenched behind you, and with your heart still beating wildly against your chest.

“You’re far more trouble than you’re worth, you know,” he says plainly. His voice remains as stern as you remember, though his displeasure even stronger than it was once before. He then lowers his eyebrows just subtly. “But I suppose while you’re here, you should know what to refer to me as. My name is irrelevant, but there is one moniker I’ve come to accept from the many I’ve been given by my associates across my years of work. One I find fitting of my role here.”

Why should a name be so important now? Is he going to dispose of you or punish you before tossing you back to Yosuke? Either way, there’s no reason for this, is there? You can’t understand.

The man before you leans his lower half slightly back against the console, moving one black boot over the other and standing casually as he watches your fearful face without expression.

“You may call me ‘overseer’ if you so like,” he remarks sternly. “As a placeholder name, should there be a need for you to refer to me. But I don’t expect we’ll be having many conversations. I have little time to expend on watching you myself.”

Watching you?

The Overseer’s eyes remain firmly locked onto you, like a hawk. Not once does he move from his place before you, not even shifting any more than he already has.

You can’t take this uncertainty. He’s not being clear with you. What does he mean watching you? Why is he telling you his name? Why, why, why?

Your eyes drift back down to the floor as you try to make sense of what’s going on, and your head slightly hangs as much as it is able with Marcellus still gripping and tugging your hair tightly. Why would you possibly be dragged here? If The Overseer is so upset by your blatant disregard of his word, wouldn’t he have already just killed you and been done with it?

“I see the fear in your eyes,” The Overseer continues speaking. “You want to know why you’re here. I can’t exactly hide my intentions from when you’re going to be here a while.”

Your eyes slightly widen, but you don’t look up.

“I have no issue being clear here. Your doctor’s grown fond of you,” the man before you goes on. “He was genuinely dependable once. He asked no questions. He did what he was told. I wound up letting him have someone like you. You were nothing more than a reward for his loyalty to me. But it seems his fondness for you has grown. His attachment for you has stunted his previously rational self.”

He gives a heavy exhale through his nose.

“I allowed him to use that drug on you. I was courteous to him, and that was my mistake. All it did was twist him. Now, Yosuke has disobeyed me so blatantly in much the same fashion as someone like Vanessa. And like Vanessa, he decided to challenge my capacity for punishment.”

Hearing these words causes you to tremble, but you don’t speak up. You knew that Yosuke’s actions would be discovered by The Overseer sooner or later. You knew he’d be punished. But you don’t understand what that has to do with you.

Again, The Overseer continues.

“I didn’t expect it from him. Certainly not so suddenly. I’ve decided that a harsher punishment is more appropriate for him. Evidently violence won’t shape a man like that. But whereas a lost cause like Vanessa can’t be tamed at this point, Yosuke is salvageable. I won’t have another doctor running amok behind my back. Especially not right now. I have no time to deal with these things.

“So, Ten, you’re going to be kept here, away from him, for as long as I see fit. Nobody outside of a select few will know you’re here, and you will be confined to this room until such time comes that I decide to return you. Of course, that depends wholly on him.”

Your heart almost stops when The Overseer tells you this. You are unable to really absorb his words at first. What does he mean? What’s going to happen to you? To the others? Why do this now? Or at all?

Your breaths become shallower as you try to understand what’s happening. For some reason, you’ve become so stricken by the threatening promise of confinement that you can’t swallow the reality of it. You’re shaking where you kneel, your limbs weary and your chest tight.

You remain with your gaze down and affixed to the floor. With a trembling lip, you shakily and instinctively start to ask “W-why am I…?”

As you ask this, you hear the sound of light shuffling and a faint metallic clicking. The noise causes you to pick your slightly hanging head up and look toward The Overseer again. As soon as you do, you hear a loud banging noise, though it only lasts a moment before it’s replaced by sharp, furious ringing in your ears. Your eyes widen as they settle upon a sleek, black revolver in the man’s left hand, pointed just a tinge off to the side from you.

As your ears incessantly ring after a roaring gunshot so close to you. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even think. You can only process that you’ve been shot at, just barely. You feel no pain. You feel nothing at all, and can only hear a violent ringing in your ears.

It takes a moment to assess what’s happened, but you realize you haven’t been injured. Rather, The Overseer has shot by you, not directly at you. He remains unphased by the loud shot, merely watching you with ferocity behind his cold eyes. Somehow, even with how still he is, with how expressionless he seems, you can still faintly sense that anger. It’s horrifying.

You think you’re gasping for breath, but with the ringing relentlessly droning in your ears, you can’t quite tell. It’s only after a while that the ringing finally subsides, though your hearing is more muffled and constricted now. You feel as though there’s been something stuck in your ears, even though you can still hear.

The Overseer apparently understands that you’ve regained your ability to hear again, as he promptly bends his arm and points his heavy revolver toward the ceiling.

“I did not give you permission to speak.”

You remain speechless as you try recovering from the shock of nearly being shot, merely sucking in shallow breaths desperately as your lungs fail to take in a normal amount of air. The Overseer then lowers his gun arm and looks down at his precious revolver, gently touching the larger barrel on the side.

“My prisoners I keep alive out of courtesy,” he notes, his voice firm. “But not all of them are of use to me. Bullets are easily as replaceable as you. Cheap and easy to find. However, they are worth far more to me than you.”

He then flickers his cool grey eyes up from the gun and down at you.

“I won’t be wasteful of what I deem important. If I have to shoot another bullet, it will be going directly into your head. Do you understand?”

You hesitate to give a response, afraid to speak again and too rattled to nod. However, Marcellus pulls your head back hard again and makes you grunt in pain. The Overseer merely lowers his gun and places it on the flat, jutting edge of the panel on the console he’s leaning against.

“Make no mistake, Ten,” he calls out. “This is as much a punishment for you as it is for your doctor. You’re a careless, disobedient little thing. Chatty and curious. I have no patience for that in my prisoners whereas I may entertain it in my employees to some small degree. But know that while you’re here, you will show me respect. You will not speak unless spoken to, or unless I give you permission. For your sake, I will initially verbalize this permission, but you will accustom yourself to my cues in time.”

The Overseer grips the edge of the flat jutting part of the panel behind him with both of his hands as he continues to eye you sharply.

“You will stay here until you and your doctor have learned your lesson. You can forget about everyone else. This will be your home until I decide to return you, provided I don’t choose to kill you.”

The blond man lightly shakes his head.

“I’m no idiot, girl. The stunt you pulled was hardly enough to cover your tracks. Whether or not I could see you, your intentions were obvious. You remained blatant in your disregard of my warning even after it was given. Your spirit is no more commendable than your incapacity to think ahead.”

By now, your breaths have become less shallow, but certainly shakier. You drop your eyes to the floor and feel a welling in your throat, as if you’re about to cry. However, you try to keep yourself together to avoid angering the man further.

You can’t take this. You can’t even really comprehend it right now. Maybe you should have seen this coming after you considered the possibility of consequence for your own actions as well as Yosuke’s actions. But for it to be like this…

“However…”

You look up suddenly, hearing his voice again. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but something about his tone in this one word makes you desperate for something of use to you, anything that you can cling to knowing you’re going to be stuck here.

The Overseer tilts his head slightly as he watches your face, his expression now subtly laced with a disgust. Begrudgingly, he persists,

“…I am nothing if I am not at least somewhat merciful. I am aware of your annoyingly insatiable curiosity, as you are no doubt aware of its consequences. But so long as you are here in this room, you will be exposed to things you would never be in your normal space. There’s no avoiding that, but I have weighed the consequences and accepted these terms.”

He returns his head to a resting position and continues to watch you with his cool grey gaze.

“That said, I will grace you with a chance to get your troubling demands out of the way. You may ask me three questions, under the condition that I dismiss any I see fit to. You understand, don’t you?”

You look on at the man with still fearful eyes. He’s moving so quickly, you can’t really process any of this except in small increments. You still haven’t even really accepted the reality of your confinement here.

The Overseer subtly scowls, only really lowering his brows and barely squinting. His expression is subtle, but you can see the displeasure.

“Speak,” he commands.

What are you supposed to say? You’re struggling to really get anything out after being forced into silence and left shaking in fright. But if you don’t say something, The Overseer will likely grow even more upset.

“I don’t understand,” you muster the words, your voice weary and raspy as you’re struggling to speak clearly. The Overseer continues to look ever displeased with you.

“I’ll make it simple,” he says. The man holds up three fingers plainly for you to see. “Three questions. You have fifteen seconds to ask them. If I don’t like a question, you will receive no answer. Nod if you understand.”

Fifteen seconds? You don’t know how long that is. You know seconds are short, but you have no awareness of time measurement anymore. You don’t remember the rhythm.

“If you continue to do nothing, you will receive nothing,” The Overseer reminds you sharply, reprimanding your lack of action. He drops his hand back down to the flat edge he’s leaning on. “Nod or don’t.”

You’re reminded of Yosuke’s offering to answer your questions as well. His offer was saintly compared to The Overseer’s. You ball your hands into fists behind your back as you think of how you won’t see him for a while. You wanted to get away, from him, but this is too much.

Still, you can’t waste this opportunity. You’re too stricken by fear, by uncertainty to think comprehensively. But you can’t just pass up this “mercy”. You have no idea what to ask right now, but you know you have to choose your questions carefully. You have ample time to think things over, you’re sure. The man wouldn’t be so kind as to give you time to think about things fully.

Marcellus’ grip on your head loosens just slightly enough to permit you a bit of movement, and you use this miniscule freedom to nod in response to The Overseer’s offer. You accept it, as he no doubt figured you would. However, he does not waste time after you’ve given your answer. Immediately, he begins to count down for you. Evidently, he’s considered your inability to conceive time and is making it easier for you. Though, hearing him verbalize your ample time to speak only places more pressure on you.

“Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”

You try to think as quickly as you can. There are obviously things he won’t tell you, but you have no time to be as careful as you want to be. You hadn’t expected the seconds to pass this quickly.

“Ten, nine-“

“What is this facility for?!” You blurt out mindlessly, looking up at The Overseer desperately. He pauses his countdown and frowns.

“Denied,” he says sharply, before continuing his countdown. “Eight, seven…”

You chide yourself for asking something so obviously wrong. You can’t think right now. Marcellus’ fingers again digging into your hair and pressing against your scalp only make it harder for you to. The last thing you can bring yourself to remember is Cyrus, for some reason. Your heart hurts thinking about him now, but your mind wanders aimlessly to your conversation with him much earlier.

“Six, Five…”

You can’t waste this. Without thinking, you speak up again.

“What happened to Jade?”

You’re not sure why Jade came up. You admittedly have always wanted to know, but it’s not as if understanding would do anything for you. Nor would it really make Cyrus feel better if you did find out and told him. Again, you come to realize this question is equally as pointless. But thinking straight isn’t an option right now. You just want to slow down and take the time to think on all of this. Everything’s hitting you at once.

The Overseer pauses when he hears this question, and again folds his arms.

“Jade?”

“Number Eleven, boss,” Marcellus reminds him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it comes from behind you.

“Mm. I’d almost forgotten,” The Overseer remarks in response. His words sound curious, yet his tone remains stagnant, as if this recollection bores him. “I don’t much look back at insignificant people unless there’s a reason to. You prisoners have a strange affinity for nicknames, as if it resolves your problem of being prisoners. In any case, I do remember Eleven, but she’s hardly relevant.”

He glances down at you with a subtle curiosity.

“Why you want to know about her is puzzling. She died a long time ago.”

Your heart sinks hearing this. The suspicions from several of your friends are confirmed. Cyrus, meanwhile, never wanted to believe Jade was dead. You wouldn’t have the heart to really tell him that truth.

“Eleven was weak,” The Overseer continues, looking slightly up with his tired, unamused eyes as he recalls the memory of her. “She was of no use to me after her pregnancy. Her body was frail and her mind in shambles.”

No use…? You latch onto this statement, wondering whether this implies that she could have been salvaged in any way. You empathize with the girl. She’d already been miserable before being taken away, but to be dragged off and forced to deal with whatever she did before she met her end must have been unbearable. You wonder whether it’s a good thing she died, then. To live suffering as she had would have been just as bad, you’re sure. Some of the other Numbers seemed to think she was better off dead, if only to be free of her suffering. You can’t imagine it.

“What happened to her specifically isn’t worth worrying about,” The Overseer’s stern voice shakes you from your thoughts. “She’s no longer here, and everything she is, was, or wanted to be has died with her. The same may undoubtedly happen to you in time.”

He pauses a moment to assess your dreary face, his cool grey eyes again flickering down and fixating on you.

“You have one more question,” he reminds you, immediately transitioning back into his countdown. You’re still trying to process his remarks about Jade, but you try to shake yourself out of it knowing how little time you have left.

“Four, three…”

Shit, shit shit.

You don’t know what to ask. You try to think of something important to you—anything at all. Your mind flickers toward the memory of Jay. You can’t ask about her, you’re sure. The answer you’d get would be no more of use than anything you were told about Jade. Asking about the Letters or any other group would be equally as fruitless.

“Two, one,”

Shit!

You lean forward and cry out,

“Why do I know you?!”

Your outburst may have been far more daunting and forward than before. Certainly louder in your panic, anyway. Yet, The Overseer remains unshaken by you, and merely watches you coldly. Even so, you notice a glint in his eye that you can’t place. Perhaps you’ve piqued some curiosity of his, but he gives no indication of this. It’s something you can just barely see, even though it isn’t obvious.

“Explain to me what you mean,” the man before you commands. This only affirms your suspicions that he’s interested in your question. You’re not sure that’s a good thing.

Can you speak? Is it okay? You’re having trouble gauging your right to speak without explicitly being told, but it seems as though The Overseer is allowing you to talk. So, you try to elaborate for the crude man. You look away from him, your discomfort growing the longer you catch him staring.

“I…remember you. I don’t know why,” you mumble. “By that I mean your face is familiar to me, and I can’t place it. Both you and Marcellus.”

This is what catches The Overseer’s attention. His eyes flicker to Marcellus behind you for just one instant before he returns them to you. He subtly tilts his head and looks at you with a faint intrigue. His eyebrows lightly furrow as he attempts to make sense of your words.

“Precisely what happens when you try to remember?”

“Nothing,” you answer honestly. “I simply can’t. I feel a familiarity with you that I can’t place. But I don’t feel pain or numbing the way I usually do when I try to force a connection. I just can’t recall a thing. I tried to the day we met, but I couldn’t.”

The Overseer again lets out a heavy exhale from his nose and shuts his eyes a moment as he assesses this.

“I see.”

You lift your eyes up to the man again and desperately plead,

“Why did you take my memory away to begin with? Do you know how horrible it is to feel like this?!”

The Overseer slowly opens his grey eyes and glares unsatisfactorily at you. Even knowing you were speaking out of line, you couldn’t stop yourself. You’re desperate, tired, frustrated. Your mind is too out of sorts.

You watch nervously as The Overseer remains still and calm despite his annoyance at your outburst. He does not reach again for his gun, though your eyes widen as you see him give a quiet nod to Marcellus behind you.

Without having to be told anything, Marcellus follows his superior’s silent instruction. He promptly steps over to your left side, his grip on your head loosening as he shifts himself. You have hardly any chance to really look his way before you get a blur of flesh out of the corner of your eye. Immediately after noticing it, you’re knocked over by the blunt force of hard, white knuckles punching roughly against the side of your head. You don’t even process the pain right away, moreso the sudden, violent shaking of your surroundings as you’re taken aback by such a violent blow.

A loud grunt and a cry escape your throat as you’re knocked over, your head hitting the cold ground as you’re unable to keep any sort of balance with your wrists still bound behind you. Not only did your hearing become messed up by the gunshot earlier, but now your vision is slightly blurry, and all you’re left with is a singing, stinging pain on the side of your head. The area starts to throb as you lay there. Although you’d felt no pain upon being impacted, being left on the floor allows a wave of pain to wash over you. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes. Your breath deepens its pace, and you lay there trying to recover from your dizzying injury. You don’t even realize you’re letting out pained groans while you breathe until things start to come back into focus. But, you have no real chance to fully recover on the floor.

Immediately, you’re ripped back up on your knees, dragged up by Marcellus by your hair again. This causes your eyes to shoot open, and you cry out once more in pain as the roots of your hair are pulled roughly so that you can be steadied again. When you finally regain your senses, you’re forced again to look at The Overseer’s unbothered face while he watches your anguish as if it were nothing to him.

Casually, he unfolds his arms and once more presses his palms against the flat jutting surface of the tilted panel, with his fingers curling around the edge. As he does this, Marcellus again takes his place behind you, holding you steady with one hand.

“Relax yourself,” The Overseer chides you once he sees you’re able to comprehend his words again. “He didn’t hit you hard enough to do any serious damage. But speak out of turn again and you won’t be spared. My only reason for letting you off easy was that your final question intrigued me.”

He pushes off the console and stands straight, still watching you intently.

“I will indulge you,” he permits. “But the answer isn’t one you’ll like.”

“Boss…” Marcellus warns. The Overseer flickers his cool grey eyes toward his gunman and raises his hand slightly as if to stop him. You’re too weary and shaken to really think of why this would be a big deal. Right now, you’re at the mercy of the men. You almost don’t feel like you’re really here with how hard it is to take in what’s been going on and what you’ve been told. You’re struggling to really focus with your heart beating quickly and your head still a bit dizzy, but you try as hard as you can to be alert now that you’re being offered a chance to learn something of use. You wonder if the answer is worth all this pain, but you’re too rattled to care.

“We’ve met before. Briefly,” The man before you explains, looking thoughtfully down at the floor as he recollects this. Again, he folds his arms. “But only once. My associate’s case is different. You have met him twice, but I have no doubt in my mind that your memory of meeting him the first time was forgotten.

“You are familiar with us because your mind wants to make a connection to a memory that remains in it, yet the attempt to connect is such a weak one that the link won’t form, no matter how hard you try forcing it. I can tell you without having to ask how you feel that it’s akin to feeling like you’ve forgotten something important. This is normal. That memory will never come, rest assured. It may always feel as if it’s on the tip of your tongue, but that is as far as it will ever go.”

Maybe this is similar to something like your memory of the vows, even if you did feel the static in your head upon trying to remember. The vows came to you easily, but the memory they’re associated with is gone.

The Overseer lifts his head up and affixes his eyes to your face. “Do you know why you feel this familiarity?”

The side of your head is still pounding a bit after being punched. You’re a little stirred up, but you manage to respond to the man with a hesitant “no”. This is the truth. You can’t remember either of the men, and only really have that faint connection with them.

“I suppose that’s to be expected,” is the man’s firm response. “But I want you to guess. Why do you think you can faintly recall either of us? Reach as hard as you can if you must.”

You don’t understand why he’s asking you, and why so adamantly. You don’t want to make him angry, however, so you try to think on this. You have no clue as to why you’d know The Overseer or Marcellus. Your only indication is the horror you felt dreaming of them, and the familiarity of their appearance the first time you met the two men here at the facility. In Marcellus’ case, you’ve been taken aback by his unsettling smile, by his disturbing demeanor, by the looming threat behind his patient exterior every time you happened to see him. The Overseer, however, you hardly have any experience with beyond the one instance you met him here. Your impression of him now is that he’s cold, frightening, and unremorseful.

But none of this brings anything back. Not their faces or their voices. No matter how much you wrack your brain, you can’t place it. As The Overseer said, it’s as if the answer is on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t find the words.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly upon presuming this pause to be a prompt to answer. Your voice remains defeated, if a bit shaky. Even your hands are trembling slightly behind your back. You shut your eyes. “I can’t think straight.”

Promptly, your head is released, and you’re finally able to let it hang. The strain of having your neck and head tugged around so much starts to take its toll, and you feel a tinge of sharp pain in your neck muscles now that they’re able to relax and recover. Still, you remain kneeling before The Overseer, bound and weary. The adrenaline you got from hearing the gunshot and being punched is slowly starting to wear off.

“Hm.” The Overseer makes a subtle, observant noise from his throat. It sounds far less curious and more condescending in tone. “I see. Perhaps it’s better I show you.”

Being released from Marcellus’ grip isn’t exactly relieving, but you prefer this. Your eyes open and slowly drag to your right, where you see the man standing now. He merely leans against the wall by the door, watching you with that eerie smile of his. It’s haunting.

Your eyes also briefly flicker toward the door by the corner of the room. The frantic part of you is urging you to run, but you forcefully remind yourself that this is a phenomenally awful idea. Even if you tried, you’re sure that you wouldn’t get far. Your legs have been uncomfortably folded under you for so long, that getting up would probably hurt.

Again, you’re interrupted by The Overseer’s voice calling out to you. Your eyes return to the grey-eyed man before you, though you have to force your head to tilt up to really see him.

“I have no qualms with divulging that my associate was responsible for ferrying you here,” he tells you plainly. “But his role here is vast and he takes care of a lot of things for me. It’s hardly surprising that you’d have seen him after your initial encounter.”

He unfolds and drops his arms, then turns around to face the computer. Slowly, The Overseer starts reaching to take his revolver from the flat jutting edge of the console. You watch with focused, fearful eyes as his fingers tightly curl around the grip of the thing.

However, a wave of immediate relief washes over you when you see him folding his arm to bring the gun toward the left side of his vest. Rather than keep the weapon out, he hides it away. Unlike Marcellus, you notice that he’s got a slit in the side of his vest that you’d never had the chance to see before. Evidently he conceals his weapon, whereas his partner does not. Not down here, anyway. It sits uneasily with you that The Overseer was able to draw his gun at all without you really catching it in time. Even Marcellus’ unholstering of his pistol made more noise.

You’re sure the man is only putting his weapon away because he’s positive he’s scared you out of speaking up against him again. As much as you’d hate to admit it, he’s correct in that assumption. He’s already given you two strikes. A third could be lethal.

“Most everyone has seen my associate at least once or twice,” The Overseer continues amidst his action. “But he largely remains in the background while carrying out his work here. You, in fact, should never have seen him in your time here. Nobody is supposed to once they’re in their respective areas, unless it’s under very a specific circumstance. I suppose like yours.”

Once his weapon is put away, The Overseer drops his hand back to the console and fiddles with the keys on the panel, each one making a distinct tapping noise. He types so quickly that it takes you aback. Though the screens remained with nothing on them for a while, they’re aroused from their dormant state and now flash and flicker with things you don’t understand, with windows of colored text and input commands that are hardly legible in the small time they’re on screen. The sudden flashes of white brighten the room exponentially, and in fact temporarily blind you. You end up having to squint a bit until you can adjust yourself to the glow.

The larger screen eventually is plastered with a window displaying a series of files with long, numerical titles, whereas the other small screens again go blank. You can’t fathom what these files might be, but it vexes you to think about it. What kind of files are they? What are they for? Why does he have so many of them? There’s a rather sizeable list, but certainly not large enough to represent a population of prisoners as a whole. It may only be one group.

Whatever folder the files are in is also vaguely labelled with number jumbles that have no meaning to you, so glancing at the folder name does little to help you. This method of organization makes it impossible for you to piece anything together at all. Still, your heart is beating more deeply and a little faster again in your anticipation.

“You’re likely trying to figure something out on your own,” The Overseer notes, as If reading you without even having to face you directly. “The answer you seek is within your impatient reach. Before I show you these, I need you to understand that my decision to let you see the contents of these recordings comes not out of some courtesy or sympathy, nor some desire to assuage your uncertainty. Do not make the misguided assumption that I care an inkling about your interests or about helping you. My reasons are my own. That said, I have few intentions of allowing you to remember anything you learn while confined here.”

Your lips slightly part in discomforting bewilderment. Does he mean…?

The Overseer slightly turns his head so that he’s able to glimpse you from the corner of his eye.

“However, my mind can be changed. My capacity for any further mercy depends largely on you.”

You tremble fearfully hearing this. If The Overseer wipes your memory, you may very well forget all the misery you’ve been through. However, you’d wind up having to re-learn all the miserable things about this place. Plus, you’d also risk forgetting the others. You’ve mulled this over before, but in truth, you don’t want to forget them. Even just letting the mere idea of this possibility surface in your mind causes your throat to choke up, and your chest to become even tighter. It’s too saddening. You couldn’t live with yourself if you forgot the others. You’ve been through too much with them already. You love them dearly.

Without anything more to say, The Overseer steps slightly aside, his body only partially tilted toward you, but primarily angled more toward the console. He’s making room for you to see the screen before you, though his right hand remains on some of the flat grey keys on the panel. His head remains turned, with his gaze affixed to the screen itself. The light of the monitors produces a gradient of white light to dark shadows on The Overseer’s body. The outlines of the slight curvature of his breast, the slender elongation of his neck and throat, and the sharpness of his cheek are made more prominent as he’s angled this way and put directly against the light of the brighter screen.

Before he hits a button, his eyes finally flicker toward you coldly. The Overseer firmly answers your question a bit more clearly.

“Your familiarity with us is likely from here. This is a step we take in our processing of you that may be the culprit for your lingering memory. Although your memory is again slightly altered afterwards, it’s not unlikely that your connection to this moment persisted, even if the memory of it was lost. I find that my prisoners often wind up connected to things they don’t fully have memories of, regardless of what we do with their minds. Hobbies, for example.”

You don’t dispute these words. Those of your friends who have their own skillsets or interests don’t seem to have any fond memories related to them, merely the knowledge of how to do something, or a mere fondness for their craft that they can’t separate themselves from. Eight, for instance, clings to his music, to songs that he can’t remember his reason for being attached to. Blue remains in a constantly creative state, yet could likely never really tell you anything about the people that inspired or drove her as an artist, nor the memories she built on her journey to developing the skill. Though, hearing The Overseer mention this and thinking of its effect in your friends only weighs heavy on your heart.

The group must have had their own ambitions, their own wants in life. For the ability to shape one’s own future to be ripped away from a person is simply miserable. Maybe Eight was going to be a musician, maybe Blue was going to be an artist. Now, they’re stuck here, where they never wanted to be.

You then notice The Overseer’s fingers hitting a few select buttons, and a file is promptly opened and brought up on the screen. You find that it’s a video of some kind, though it isn’t playing just yet. The only things you see in this initial frame are a small but wider white room, not as unfamiliar to you in style as the ones you’ve seen in your time here. The feed looks to have been taken from the back wall of the room, by its center. To the left of the wall the camera is facing is a single metal door, like many you’ve seen.

You’re perplexed by the clarity of this feed. There are a few frayed edges and a subtle film to the feed from what you can tell, but it’s otherwise crisp and sharp. You’re not sure where there are cameras if the walls and ceilings you’ve seen are so bare. If they’re hidden behind anything, the feed wouldn’t be this clear, right? Then again, that’s presuming that this particular feed came from a camera that was hidden. Either way, you’re taken greatly aback by the sight.

Unlike many rooms you’ve come to know, this particular room you see on screen is undecorated and largely plain. All there is in view of this frame is a long grey metal table, two chairs, and the door. The chairs are on opposite sides of the table, one facing toward the camera, the other facing away. Even for as simple as the setup is, you find it unsettling. But what shocks you most is who you see in this still frame of the recording.

Leaning casually against the wall across from the camera is Marcellus, He’s got his arms folded, but you can see lighter dots of color under his arm that you presume to be his fingers lingering on the grip of his gun. You’re sometimes slow with picking up on specific things, but you can clearly tell he’s there to keep an eye on whatever’s going on, ready to threaten or kill if need be.

Your eyes drift further down the screen toward a familiar face. In the chair that’s facing the camera is a very confused Two. In this frame, you note that his eyes are looking upward, as if he’s examining his surroundings. His expression is a bit subtle, but you can tell he’s worried. He doesn’t look drastically different from how you know him, though he’s dressed in white. Strangely, his arms are not bound at all. He’s completely free, and he has both his forearms loosely on the table before him, though he has one hand tightly wrapped around and gripping the other. You’re surprised to see him of all people, but don’t ask any questions about why The Overseer has started with him, or if he intends to show anyone else.

There’s another person in the room, though you can’t tell who at first because you really don’t recognize them. Their dark, hair is what you catch sight of first, the color of it contrasting the bright shades in the room. You squint to try piecing who it might be, and only once you look further down do you see the familiar drooping shoulders and the dark skin at the nape of Gale.

You’re surprised to see them without their signature white hair or dress shirt. They have some red cloth on their torso, but you can’t really see all of Gale’s body. The frame cuts off toward the middle of their back. It seems far more focused on the Number than anyone else, followed by the door, which is fully in view.

Gale’s sitting patiently in their chair, their profile away from the camera since they’re positioned opposite of Two. In their hands is a pen and a clipboard with papers on it, but you can’t make out what’s on them from here.

Your eyes greatly widen once you’ve absorbed the image of the scene fully. Gale must be there to assess Two, and perhaps every Number and every prisoner. You’re not sure when this takes place, but you’re able to discern that it’s some kind of evaluation or interview.

“You’re slow, so I suggest you watch closely,” The Overseer interrupts your intense focus on the screen. The sudden intrusion of his firm voice makes you blink suddenly and look at the man. “What you’re going to see a post-op procedure. It’s important that we take this step, for reasons that may be more obvious to you in a moment.”

Why is he showing you this? The man’s been said countless times to be so secretive. Even so, if he really were comfortable telling you about Marcellus, he could have just told you outright about what you were wondering. He must have some other motive in doing all this for you.

He’s told you he won’t allow you to remember what you see, but you’re not sure that’s the truth. On one hand, you’d not put it past the man to frivolously wipe memory, especially since he seemed to promise he would. He’s certainly done it before with people like Sienna, right? But you can’t exactly read a man like The Overseer, nor can you ever claim to know his intentions. He’s offering you a chance to evade this, but you have no idea what to expect. As it is, you’re still shaken by your less than welcoming treatment thus far. It seems like just moments ago you were asleep in your bed, and now you’re here at the mercy of a cold man and his gunman.

The Overseer glimpses your worried face with a side glance of his grey eyes, though he returns his focus to the screen just after. You notice that he keeps observing you, but you aren’t sure why.

With a loud, hard tap emitting from the prompt pushing of a button beneath The Overseer’s finger where he’s placed his right hand, the video on screen finally begins to play. It doesn’t look to be from the beginning of whatever encounter is happening in this room. Rather, it’s a fragment of the conversation. You suppose, then, that the file this video was in is full of these fragments.

Clearly, you can hear Gale’s voice, though the sound emitting from the computer is a bit muffled since it hits against the walls and the surface of the console.

“Please try to stay focused, won’t you?” They bid the nervous boy before them. “I know you want to get out of here. It’s okay to be a little nervous. But rest assured, we’ll take good care of you.”

Two remains on edge and continues flickering his eyes about nervously. “I-I wanna see my sister.”

Gale softly laughs, remaining ever gentle and calm. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. We just need a little more information from you, that’s all. You can see her after.”

“I don’t understand how we got here,” Two responds worriedly. He shuts his eyes a moment as he tries to recall something. “I don’t remember. D-does my dad know we’re here? Or where ‘here’ is?”

Gale subtly scribbles something onto their paper, though they continue with their chipper attitude when Two again looks at them.

“Your dad?” they curiously remark. “Of course we’ve given him a call. he’ll be on his way to come get you soon, don’t worry.”

Gale’s obviously lying through their teeth, and doing it so calmly. Your heart also weighs heavy hearing the mention of Two’s father. You figured all you Numbers were ripped away from loved ones, but being faced with the consequence of it so blatantly, and hearing the genuine desperation in the voice of your friend is too much for you.

Tap

The feed switches over the moment The Overseer’s finger hits the button, and the scene on the screen changes, if only slightly. Two is no longer on screen, and Gale and Marcellus have shifted position just a bit as the next video plays. Now Three is the one sitting in the chair facing the camera, wearing white like her brother, and sitting hunched over with her elbows pressed against the table and her face buried in her palms. Her shoulders sharply rise and fall as she lets out loud sobs. Marcellus again stands in silence, whereas Gale stands behind the young girl, bent over her with one hand on her back and the other pressed flat against the metal table’s surface.

“it’ll be alright,” they coo. “We’ll get you through this.”

“I just wanna go home!” Three sobs, tears dripping down onto the desk from her chin at a slow pace. “Please! I just wanna see my brother!”

Your heart hurts even more seeing your friend crying so much and so desperately. You haven’t seen this from her since she cried over Jade. Your breaths become a bit shaky as you watch helplessly. The Overseer continues to watch you from the side, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on him.

Gale remains trying to comfort the girl. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about home? Maybe it’ll help calm you down.”

Three drops her hands slightly, revealing how red her eyes are. She shakes her head, yet complies.

“I was living with my dad,” she shakily mentions. Gale tilts their head.

“What else?”

Though Three’s sobbing paused in that instant of her trying to follow Gale’s advice, she returns to her crying state and again buries her head in her hands.

“I don’t remember!” Three continues to cry. “I don’t understand what’s going on! I just wanna see my brother!”

Tap

It’s Blue that winds up on screen this time. She’s looking down at the table before her, concentrating on her own thoughts. Her hands are in her lap under the table, so you can’t really see them. Her hair isn’t up as you’ve always seen it, rather it’s drooping down and a bit matted.

“…I have no idea,” she tells Gale, though you’re not sure what she’s answering. You presume this was already deep into whatever conversation they were having. Blue’s voice is far more sullen than you’ve ever heard it before. She sounds softer and more defeated. “I feel like I’ve just woken up from a bad dream.”

“It’s not so strange a thing to feel,” Gale remarks reassuringly. You can see them writing a few more notes on their paper. “Like I said, people often feel that way after an accident, after all that shock. Is there anything you can tell me that might help us piece things together?”

An accident? This is another lie, you’re sure.

“No.” Blue slowly shakes her head. Her eyes remain solemnly affixed to the table’s metallic surface. “My head feels weird when I try.”

“A name, perhaps?” Gale asks gently. “Do you remember your name?”

Blue pauses a moment, her lips slightly parted as she thinks on this. Her eyebrows lower and scrunch together as she concentrates, as if the question sparked something in her. Unexpectedly, her baby blue eyes finally shift up to look at Gale.

“My name is Ca-“

Tap

Your chest heaves a heavy breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. You don’t want to see more of this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak up, knowing what will happen if you do. The Overseer again looks over at you, but continues to eye the screen promptly after. He’s no doubt aware of your visible discomfort, but electing to ignore it. You can’t understand why he’s showing you this. He could easily have just shown you your interview. He’s just tormenting you now. You can’t take much more of this, yet you can’t bring yourself to rip your eyes away.

On the screen now is Five, who’s pressing her fingertips to her temples and hunching over the table. Her eyes are shut, and she looks like she’s exerting herself. Gale’s dressed more this time the way you’re familiar, with their usual white dress shirt. However, their hair is still dark. Between both Gale and Five is a glass that’s almost empty now, but still has some dark liquid. You think it might be tea, but you don’t exactly trust it. Your own experience leads you to presume that it’s been laced.

“Don’t try too hard, sweetie,” the try to reassure Five, reaching a hand slightly out. “If nothing comes, then that’s alright.”

They gently push forward Five’s cup. “Here, drink a little more, while it’s still warm. Warmth does the body a lot of good, you know. It’ll help with the stress.”

Five finally relaxes and opens her eyes. She drops her hands, instead wrapping them around the cup she’s been urged to drink from.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember anything specific,” she says. Unlike the others, she’s being unusually cooperative and trusting. She remains clueless to what’s really happening, even to the fact that whatever’s in her cup has likely been laced. “Nothing’s coming to me. I don’t know why. I think something happened to me, but I don’t know what.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Gale promises the girl and drops their hand. You see them writing more notes on clipboard. “How do you feel now?”

“My head’s swelling,” Five mumbles. “I feel really dizzy. I keep seeing this faint face in my mind, but I don’t know whose it is. I’m too tired and confused to really think about who it might be.”

“A face?” Gale inquires, pausing their scribbling. “A face like mine or yours perhaps? Man, woman?”

“A little boy,” Five answers. “I think I know him. I just don’t know why.”

You see Gale raise their free hand up to their mouth, presumably to bite their thumbnail like they had with you when they were lost in thought.

“I see.”

Tap

Your eyes widen when the feed cuts to a different point in time. You don’t see the same scene you expect. Rather, the bodies are a bit more scattered. Gale isn’t in their seat, and is instead hunched over a kneeling Six by the door. Gale’s dressed more femininely, you notice—wrapped in an open cut red blouse with long sleeves and a long grey skirt. Of all things, they’re even wearing bright red, clunky round earrings. They look much different than you’ve ever seen them before, almost as if they’re an entirely different person.

Your eyes worriedly lower toward Six, who’s gripping her head between both her hands tightly and sucking in pained breaths through her gritted teeth. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she occasionally lets out a groan in her labored breaths. Gale seems like they’re attempting to calm her, with one hand placed on her back and the other cautiously hovering before her face. Gale’s expression remains plastered with a fearful confusion. You’ve never seen them this worried before.

“What’s going on with her?” They desperately question Marcellus. The man merely stands behind the hunched over Gale, eyeing the pained Six without much concern on his face. He merely brings a hand over to his holster and takes out his pistol.

“I don’t know, but we can’t work with her if she stays like this,” He tells Gale before pointing his pistol at Six’s head. Gale turns and glimpses the gun, then immediately grabs Marcellus’ forearm and pushes it down.

“Are you crazy?!” They angrily shoot out. “You can’t!”

Marcellus violently tugs his arm away from Gale’s grip and scowls.

“It’s going to be a problem if she reacts to seeing your face like this when she’s supposed to be yours,” he answers sharply. “We can’t afford this.”

Suddenly, Gale stands up and turns to face the camera. They look directly into it, their eyebrows upturned.

“Sir…please fix this.”

Tap

The feed again changes. You want to beg The Overseer to stop showing you these. It’s too much of a burden to see your friends this way. Still, the man persists in making you watch. Even if you were to look away, you couldn’t shut out the audio from the feed.

Violet’s on screen now, luckily not in any pain like Six was. She’s in her chair like the other Numbers were, with Gale sitting across from them. You notice they’re still dressed a bit femininely, but have their signature white hair now. This only leads you to wonder if they had dyed it to begin with because of the previous incident. To think they changed their appearance for Six…

Marcellus is again cautiously watching from the back wall, while Violet remains with a fearful glint in her eye. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her dark, wavy hair is a bit shorter than you’ve seen it. Her face is equally as fearful as Three’s had been before, but certainly more tense. She’s looking right at Gale.

“I don’t know anything. I’ve already told you!” She calls out in frustration.

Gale scribbles something on their clipboard while they watch Violet’s panicked state.

“Please relax,” they calmly urge. Their mild-mannered demeanor is in stark contrast to the previous panic they displayed. It’s jarring. “Try to breathe deeply, alright? I know this is stressf-“

“You wouldn’t know because you’re not the one who’s stuck here!” Violet crudely interrupts, her eyebrows furrowing. She slams her hand on the table. “I didn’t ask to be here! I just want to…”

She trails off and looks down, trying to think of the words.

“Go home?” Gale finishes for her, unbothered by her outburst. “Do you know where or what that is?”

“No…” Violet’s hand begins to tremble. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything except…”

“Except?”

“…A place. One I used to go. That’s all.”

She looks up at Gale with wet eyes. “What did you do to me?”

Gale finishes writing their notes and calmly puts their clipboard face down on the table. They look up at Marcellus on the other side of the room and nod. “I think we’re done.”

With this prompt, Marcellus steps over toward Violet and removes a syringe from his pocket. Violet notes him approaching out of the corner of her eye, and promptly stands, sliding her chair loudly back in her sudden alarm.

“S-stay away from me!” She cries out, backing away from the man. However, he wastes no time in grabbing the girl. She tries to fight back, but ultimately resorts to dropping her weight to make it harder for him to handle her. Annoyed, Marcellus grabs her crudely by the hair and yanks her up, forcing her head aside.

Gale, meanwhile, calmly rises and walks over to help Marcellus keep the thrashing Violet steady, grabbing her hands and holding them in place while the man uncaps the syringe with his teeth and roughly stabs the girl’s neck with the needle.

Tap

The same scene change, the same shift in Number. Gale’s appearance now matches the version of them you know most. They look so starkly different than they did in the first video with Two. You’re perplexed by how much they’ve changed. Still, they sit calmly before Eight, scribbling away.

Seeing Eight before you now causes your heart to jump, though it promptly sinks when you see him being resistant. Unlike Violet, he’s physically still and angry instead of fearful. His face is enraged, his brows lowered, and his mouth curled in a nasty sneer. His glasses are missing, like Violet’s. Strangely, like none of the others, Eight’s hands are bound behind him, presumably by a cuff.

“I know your explanation is bullshit,” Eight spits angrily at Gale, leaning forward as he says this. “I’m not telling you a fucking thing.”

“We’d like it if you cooperate, please,” Gale responds calmly. Eight refuses to listen, instead going off.

“What Is this?” He demands. “A government facility or something? Are you experimenting on people here?”

Gale laughs. “Nothing like that. But it’s not my place to tell you. Please just answer my questions.”

“I’m not answering shit!” Eight shoots back, kicking the table and shoving it against Gale. The action causes them to drop their notes on to the floor, the clipboard making a loud clang against the hard surface. Marcellus immediately unholsters his gun, clicks something on it, and steps forward a bit before aiming his weapon directly at Eight’s head. He presses the barrel against the young man’s temple, causing Eight to shut up. His eyes widen and flicker to his side, but then back to Gale once they start to speak.

“It’s really best if you tell us what we need,” they calmly tell Eight. “We won’t hurt you if you do.”

Eight’s breathing is heavy and audible through the feed, but he eventually gives in and looks away.

“I remember my father’s voice,” he admits. Eight then scowls. “I remember hating the sound of it. But nothing else.”

Marcellus finally drops his weapon, letting Eight give an assuaged exhale. Gale merely writes something down and says, “thank you.”

Tap

Lav’s face shows up on screen this time, and seeing it makes your heart beat a bit quicker. She’s sitting with her hands on the table before her, leaning on her elbows. Strangely, she seems just the same as she always has, with her hair down and long.

Lav looks more like she’s concentrating, trying to piece something together. Unlike some of the others, she doesn’t appear worried, or at least not outwardly so. You suppose it’s a step up from seeing everything else you have, but it still doesn’t please you to watch her.

“That doesn’t really sound right,” she says. “What’s the point of all this? Why can’t I…?”

“That’s the thing about drug trials,” Gale chuckles gently when Lav trails off. “Sometimes you see a number of strange side effects. Rest assured, the memory loss is only temporary. I suppose it’s not something you want a migraine medicine to cause, but any bit of information we can extract from tested patients is of use to us. We want the best possible product, after all.”

“I…don’t think I believe you,” Lav remarks, her amber eyes shifting up toward Gale. “Something feels wrong.”

“I’m sure you must be confused, but have a look at our study sheet,” Gale encourages the girl. They flip a page on their clipboard and remove a printed sheet with information you can’t really see, but they waste no time letting Lav see it. “Maybe this will jog your memory. You signed up to participate, after all. Short on money, you know?”

This is another lie. You know it.

Lav picks up the sheet and reads it to herself, though she doesn’t look really convinced.

“I really can’t remember that,” she says. Gale softly laughs.

“Well, you are experiencing a pretty nasty side effect, like I said. But please cooperate. We have to figure out what went wrong so we can make corrections where needed. So, you can recall absolutely nothing, right?”

Lav places the sheet back on the table and looks away.

“I don’t remember anything, sorry.”

Gale writes something down. “I can tell you’re lying. You don’t trust us, do you?”

Being told this causes Lav’s eyes to widen a bit. “How do you-”

“Please be honest with us.”

Lav glowers a bit. She turns her head slightly to look back at Marcellus, then looks back at Gale.

“You’re holding me hostage,” she remarks. “If this were a real, simple study, you wouldn’t have an armed person present. You’re going to kill me if I don’t do what you say, right?”

“We’d rather not,” Gale responds simply. This makes Lav clench both hands into fists. She seems to know she’s beaten. Even though she looks ready to fight, she refrains from doing so the way the two Numbers before her had.

“I remember a name,” she finally admits, her voice low. “The name of someone I can’t remember, but someone I know is important to me. Nothing else. Not anything about who I am.”

She scowls. “Is that thorough enough for you, doc?”

Gale finishes writing a few more notes, but says gently, “Yes. Very good.”

The feed stops, resting on the last frame of this video fragment. You let out a heavy sigh, and when you’re able to concentrate on your surroundings again and remember where you are, you realize your cheeks have become wet. You hadn’t even noticed tears started to subtly fall.

The Overseer continues to look on at you, his finger still on the button. He subtly scowls watching your tearful face, but he says nothing to you about it. Rather, he turns back to the screen and hits the button one more time.

Still with faint, dribbling tears in your eyes, you look on at the screen at yourself. Your breath shakes as you watch your own face filled with fear. You almost don’t recognize it, despite having seen it countless times.

You’re so focused on yourself that you almost don’t realize that something in the scenery has changed. Only when your eyes drift down do you see that Gale’s gone. It’s not them sitting before you. Rather, it’s The Overseer.

There are papers scattered on his side of the table, though in his lap upon a folded leg and held steady by his right hand, is a file which he’s marking up with pen in his left.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me,” you say, your voice as shaky as it’s been before. “What do you want from me?”

“You don’t get to ask me questions in return,” The Overseer answers you firmly, wasting no time in trying to earn your trust or dig subtly for information like Gale had with everyone else. “If you insist on being difficult, I’ll have my associate break your limbs.”

As you hear these words from the feed, you realize The Overseer isn’t attempting to be lethal with you here. He’s threatening you with incapacitation. Why?

The Overseer in the feed persists. “Now I ask again—what do you know?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Your video self answers honestly. “Please let me go!”

You flinch at the sudden loud pounding of The Overseer’s left fist against the table.

“Be quiet,” he tells you firmly. Once you’ve finally shut up, the man in front of the camera reaches forward to take a paper, and turns it around. He slides it casually towards you.

“We’ll do it this way. Read these names aloud. Loud and clear.”

You seem to hesitate, but do as told after glancing worriedly at the man before you. The moment your eyes flicker down to the page, you see The Overseer lean in just slightly, no doubt watching you closely.

“Alyssa, Morrigan, Jacques, Nia, Shirley, Rosaline, Harold, Jessie…” you recite, though end up stopping and shaking your head. “I don’t know any of these names.”

Promptly, The Overseer plucks the paper from your hands and puts it aside. He writes something on the file before him, then gives you another paper from the right side of the table.

“Examine these faces,” he instructs. Though you can’t see the paper’s contents on screen clearly, you think there are printed photographs on it. The video you does as told, but again shakes her head.

“I don’t know them.”

“Tell me the name of a place,” The Overseer immediately transitions to another demand, leaving your video self visibly confused. You put the paper down and blink a bit.

“A place…?”

“Don’t think about it. Speak.”

You’re intimidated and flustered, unable to concentrate. You wind up stammering in your seat a moment before speaking up.

“Garden.”

“A word.”

“Sunset.”

“A color.”

You see your own eyes drop to the side.

“White,” you remark. You’re sure this stemmed from your surroundings. Nothing but whites and greys, bleak and empty.

The Overseer scribbles a few more notes before he stops to promptly ask,

“Why did you choose these words?”

“I-I don’t know,” you answer, avoiding the man’s gaze. “I couldn’t think of anything else. I don’t know if I’ve ever even been to a garden. I don’t really even remember what a sunset looks like.”

“Yet you know the words?”

You shut your eyes and bring your hands to your head, pressing your fingers into your scalp and forehead.

“I can’t think,” you shakily remark. “Please stop this. Please just tell me what’s going on!”

The Overseer again writes something down. The pace of his writing is far faster than Gale’s. He ignores your demand, but coldly asks, “What do you feel?”

“Numbness,” you wearily sob, your shoulders rising slightly as you suck in breath. “Please, just let me go…”

“Where exactly will you go to?” The Overseer questions you. You wind up shaking your head, but say nothing. The man opposite of you merely exhales a heavy breath through his nose.

“I have little patience for your tears,” he says. He gestures a hand over to Marcellus, who walks forward and places a rather thick, full syringe on the table before his superior. “But you’ve given me enough. If you’re going to start crying, then we’re done for the moment.”

You drop your hands and gasp slightly when you see the syringe. The sight of it makes you sit back and shake your head.

“I-I don’t want that,” you comment, eyeing the thing nervously. Your panic appears to rise when The Overseer stands slowly. He doesn’t much seem concerned by your jolting out of your chair as well. Rather, he calmly gathers all the papers on the table and neatly stacks them together. The syringe remains on the table, but the moment he puts down all the organized papers and curls his fingers around the glass thing, you start to back away.

“Stop!” You plead. “I’ve given you your answers! I’ll do anything you say! Please!”

“Hold her,” The Overseer ignores you and gestures his head to his partner. While you watch Marcellus make his way over to your frightened frame on video, you notice that The Overseer turns his head so that he can see the camera above him. He raises a hand to his neck and promptly makes a silent cutting motion. The last thing you see on the video is Marcellus grabbing hold of you while you relentlessly cry out for help toward the door, but the feed stops just after.

Your breaths become heavy as you mentally recover from all the imagery you’ve been fed. You can’t bring yourself to think clearly about it all right now with so much rattling around in your brain. You need time to sort this out. You need time to recover.

“You don’t remember, do you?” The Overseer questions you, finally turning away from the screens and shifting his body to face you again. “This is where we officially met, if only briefly. Even seeing it plainly now, I can tell by that look on your face that you still don’t recall a thing. But that was you up there, make no mistake.”

You feel the tears from earlier drying up on your cheeks, yet your eyes still weigh heavily. The Overseer notices your weary face and frowns subtly.

“Speak,” he commands. “You want to say something, don’t you?”

You look away, your lower lip trembling. “W-why did you show me all of that? Why not just show me my feed?”

The man before you leans again against the console behind him, once more curling his fingers along the edge of the jutting part of the panel.

“I said I have my reasons,” he answers vaguely. “But your curiosity comes at a price. I answered your question thoroughly. Now, the last you’re going to see of your friends until I decide to let you leave here, provided that I even do, is going to be them in their most miserable states. Confused, sad, angry.

“Remember that I own you, girl. Your sheltering here is merely a privilege that can be taken away. If you do as I ask, I may be far more merciful to you. But continue being so careless and you’ll die. Understand?”

In his discussion with you in the video, he was far less adamant about killing you. Now, he is. You’re not sure what must have changed. You’re not even sure why it is that he took the helm interviewing you rather than Gale. Though, this explains why you weren’t familiar with Gale in the least. Had it been them, you may have felt a familiarity with them instead.

In any case, none of this really helps you now. You wind up hanging your head and shutting your eyes. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically. You have no fight left in you right now.

“Yes,” you finally answer. The Overseer doesn’t react to your submission. He no doubt expects it. Rather than linger, he moves on to the next thing like it’s nothing but another item on his list. He turns his head to Marcellus now, who starts to step toward you without being asked. You look up at the man towering above you with fearful eyes, but do nothing and merely kneel there. The Overseer then gives his command,

“Strip her.”

Your eyes widen hearing this order of his. What is he trying to do? Is he seriously about to-?

Marcellus drags you painfully up by the arm, interrupting your processing of this sharply. As expected, your knees feel weak from your sitting on them for so long. However, you’re not given much of a choice but to stay standing as Marcellus holds you firmly and starts to tug at your gown.

You struggle a bit against him, letting out a few grunts in the process. However, you ultimately fail to keep him from carrying out his task. The Overseer merely watches from the console, eyes unwavering and unamused.

“Don’t make assumptions of my intentions,” he warns you as your gown is forcefully torn off of you. The fabric rips and falls around your feet like rags. “Your body interests me little. Your role as a common plaything Is one meant for my employees to enjoy, but you entice me none. I’m only doing this because I don’t want you to hide things from me. Like this, you’re unarmed and harmless. Everything is in view and easy to see. I prefer things laid out.”

The cold air of the room hits your bare chest. You want desperately to cover yourself, but your wrists remain bound behind you by your cuff. The Overseer tilts his head to the side as he sees your bothered face.

“I presume you think this is excessive,” he correctly guesses while Marcellus tugs down your underwear. You press your legs together in discomfort. “But I prefer to be cautious. I’ll admit that some of my prisoners can be craftier than they look. They never succeed in their fighting endeavors, but I won’t take chances nonetheless.”

Once you’re undressed, Marcellus drags you back further toward the back wall of the room. You’re turned just for a moment, only to be faced with an unsettling sight. Your eyes grow wide when you see the rest of the room. Behind you this whole time was a bed against the back wall, and a metal drain on the floor. It looks out of place with how rustic and dark it is. But so too does the bed.

On the ceiling between you and the bed is a bar that extends along the length of the bed, and to the right is a white, thick curtain made of plastic that you presume extends out to cover the area. The wheeled bed you were ferried in is longways at the foot of this stationary one, though the sight of the thing strikes you. It’s welded to the floor, its frame made of metal and its headrest barred.

The bed is flat, only big enough to house one person, and looks largely uncomfortable, if only barely serviceable as a place to sleep. The pillow by its head is as flat as the mattress. What scares you most is that you see loose metal chains affixed to the edges of the bed—a set of two at the head of it, and a set of two at the foot. You start to tremble seeing it there, but you can’t much stop to absorb the sight of it before Marcellus pushes you onto the thing.

He wastes no time affixing the heavy chains above the cuff. They’re frigid against your skin, and just a bit tight where he’s placing them. The chain’s cuffs make loud CLACK noises as they pop closed and lock one by one. Only once your arms are secured does Marcellus finally remove the other, larger cuff on your wrists. Though one restraint is removed, another’s replaced it. With nothing below them, the chains fall along your wrists. They allow you to move your wrists in them a little more freely, and are long enough for you to move your arms around as well. You can’t exactly reach too far down the bed or to the side of it, but you can still move around just a bit. You wind up sitting up and tugging fearfully at the chains. You’re too scared not to instinctively try it.

The Overseer watches intently, whereas Marcellus, now finished with binding you, stands by your bed awaiting his next order with his arms folded. You continue to tug at your restraints to no avail.

“A relic from an older time,” The blond man explains. “One I’ve kept as a small treasure. That boy, Eight, wasn’t wrong when he guessed ‘government facility’. He has a good eye. This place used to be one, years before I was born. Hidden away and used for twisted and inhumane government experimentation. You’ll notice the drain in the floor isn’t quite the same style as the rest of this place either. This room in particular was likely once an operation theater or a cell. But the true history of this place has been lost to time. This underground facility was abandoned long ago. Nonetheless, it proved favorable for my needs.”

He pushes off of the console and stands straight.

“I’ve been known to rest here from time to time. I sometimes spend days at a time here despite having my own abode away from this place. But sleep isn’t necessarily a luxury I always have,” he says. “So this will be your bed until further notice. We won’t restrict your legs unless you give us a reason. So behave.

“Rest assured, my goal is not to kill you right off the bat. We will bathe and feed you when we must. Otherwise, you’ll be confined here. Know that this isn’t meant to be a pleasant stay. If you have nothing to do, that’s hardly my problem. My only concern is keeping you away from your doctor and punishing the both of you for your separate instances of stupidity.”

He glances at Marcellus a moment.

“In instances where you can’t be watched, you will be put to sleep,” he explains. “However, my associate will be the one watching you most of the time.”

This seems to take Marcellus aback, and he looks on at his superior with slight hesitance.

“Boss?” He questions. You suppose he didn’t get the memo. “What about-“

The Overseer raises his hand to the man to stop him.

“I understand,” he says. “But I need you down here.”

“You need me with you,” Marcellus protests insistently. “If something goes wrong-“

“I have things to take care of upstairs that don’t require your assistance,” his partner insists. “I will be fine.”

He looks on at the man and gives a bit of a sigh when he sees Marcellus’ slightly defeated face.

“If I need you, I will call,” he compromises with him. “As I always have. But for now, I need you to watch her and report anything of note.”

His grey eyes flicker toward you, and The Overseer frowns ever so slightly.

“Keeping you anesthetized would be convenient for me,” he remarks coldly. “But I don’t want you dead unless it’s necessary for you to be. I have every intention of returning you to Yosuke unless there’s a reason not to do so. Keeping you under for that long and that consistently without any breaks in between would undoubtedly kill you. So consider yourself lucky or unlucky, depending on your perspective of the experience.”

He walks over to your bed, the soles of his boots hitting and clacking against the hard floor. With his long fingers, he grips the curtain to your left, the rattling of its top end against the metal rod on the ceiling making a light sliding and clinking noise.

“This curtain will be drawn when we don’t want to deal with you, or when we have something to take care of that we prefer you not see,” he goes on to explain. “When that curtain is drawn, especially if I am in the room, I expect you to be silent and still. Any interruptions will be met with punishment. If you anger me enough, I’ll have no trouble cutting off that tongue of yours. Know that returning you to Yosuke does not mean that I have to return all of you to him.”

You look up fearfully at the blond man as his face is far closer to you now than it ever has been, his odor reeking of fresh cigarette smoke due to his proximity. His words are haunting, but you can’t bring yourself to react knowing that it’ll cause you trouble. You merely sit there, holding your chest and covering your naked flesh with as much of your arms as you can. In part, this is out of your unease at being naked and helpless around these men, but you also just want to hold something right now. You wind up bringing your knees to your chest as well, meekly balling yourself up.

The Overseer gives you no chance to speak, and merely expects you to understand what he’s telling you. None of this is easy to swallow in your frantic state, but you can’t exactly afford not to listen.

“Lastly, I-“

The Overseer is suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking by his door, and he turns his head to look over at it. The blond man above you merely pauses a moment before sighing, though he does start to move.

“Of all times,” he mutters under his breath. Rather than go directly to the door, he moves back to his console and fiddles with a few more keys to bring up another video feed. This one looks to be a live feed, one of an impatient Lilah, ferrying what you think is a bunch of papers in a folder. The camera is angled down, so you presume it must be above the door. The Overseer may not be trying to hide from you that he has cameras everywhere, otherwise he wouldn’t bother doing this in front of you.

Another button is pushed, and The Overseer starts to speak up. You at first think he’s addressing you or Marcellus, but soon realize he’s speaking at Lilah. There was no indication of a microphone on the panel of the console that you could see. You assume that it must be internal.

“What is it?” The man calls out impatiently. Lilah on screen looks up at the camera and lowers a sarcastic brow before lifting up the file in her hands to show her superior, as if to say, “what do you think it is?”

“I asked everyone to avoid contacting me today,” The Overseer promptly calls back, his crude tone unchanged. “You know better, Lilah.”

“Well, this is kind of important,” the young woman casually remarks back. She seems largely unafraid of the man, whereas you and anyone else like you is, would be, and should be terrified. “One of your little nurses dropped dead while you were away recently. Figure you’d want to review her autopsy data just in case.”

You part your lips and look on at the screen with worry. You certainly hope it wasn’t the same Nurse as the one Marcellus dealt with. You couldn’t handle knowing someone else you saw died immediately after you saw them. Jay was enough.

“I’m aware,” The Overseer responds. He releases the button his finger is on and leans on the console, hanging his head and sighing.

“I’ll take care of it,” Marcellus speaks up from beside your bed. He starts to walk toward the door and fiddles with the pad beside it until the door opens to fully reveal Lilah. Your eyes widen when you see her. She has nothing to do with what’s going on now, but you hardly associate the woman with good things.

She seems surprised to see Marcellus.

“You’re here too?” She rudely questions, handing the man the file. “God, no wonder nothing’s fucking getting done today. I thought the boss said you two were going to ‘take care of something’ upstairs.”

You notice The Overseer’s head turning slightly as he’s hunched over with his palms pressed against the flat edge of the console. He looks on at his two associates by the door, but says nothing and merely watches with a focused eye.

Marcellus does not respond either and plucks the file from Lilah’s hands. However, he eventually does speak up with a quiet,

“I thought so too.”

Lilah apparently finds this demeanor and response odd, as she leans to the side a bit to look into the room. Her icy eyes immediately lock onto you on the bed, naked and chained. Her face tenses up, though she doesn’t respond with surprise. Instead, she seems angry. Her eyebrows furrow, and she immediately whips her head back to look at Marcellus.

“What the fuck is she doing in-“

Marcellus does not allow her to finish and promptly shuts the door on her. This causes the woman to scoff in offense, and she retaliates by kicking once at the door in anger. The impact of her boot against metal thing makes a loud THUD.

“You promised not to keep any more secrets from me, assholes!” She shouts. She doesn’t kick any further, and eventually groans in frustration and walks off. A rather annoyed overseer promptly shuts off the feed on the screen and pushes off of the console to stand straight again.

“Ever the barking one, mm?” Marcellus lightly comments. The Overseer does not find this one bit amusing.

“I have no time for her,” he says. “Let her fume about it with Milos. He’s always known how to keep her at bay. But do me a favor and keep a sharp eye on her while I’m gone. I trust she’ll be smart enough not to divulge any information that could possibly make its way to this one’s doctor, but you never know with these women.”

You suppose he means Yosuke.

“You know how they get,” The Overseer finishes commenting. He makes his way over to the solid cabinet to the right of the computer and opens its double doors. Much like when you opened one of the cabinets back at the theater, you see an array of hanging clothes and drawers. One cubby has a metal block in it that you think might be a safe, but you aren't sure. The Overseer plucks a black suit jacket from the lot of the hanging clothes and starts to dress himself in it.

“I ought to get going,” he remarks, rolling down the sleeves of his white shirt. “I’ll be busy the rest of the day, most likely.”

“More prying eyes?” His partner questions as The Overseer slides his arms into the jacket. The blond man adjusts his coat before bending down to tug the cloth of his pants out from its place inside his boots.

“As ever,” he says. “You know how it is. It’s either money or bullets these days. I’ll take care of it.”

“Alone?”

The Overseer finishes fixing himself up and rolling his pants over his boots. Once he again stands straight, he looks over at his gunman and frowns.

“My decision is final, Lucius.”

Lucius? Is that Marcellus’ first name? You’d grown so accustomed to referring to him as Marcellus that you’d forgotten it was his surname at all.

“Right, ” Lucius acknowledges this. There’s a tinge of disappointment in his voice, though it’s just barely noticeable. The Overseer doesn’t much acknowledge it or speak further about his decision, instead turning back to you and giving a light scowl.

“I don’t have the time to stick around,” he remarks. “My final word is this: Treat this man with the same respect as I expect you to show me. Listen to what he says. If for any reason he tells me you were difficult with him, you will face severe punishment. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” you respond. Weary, but obedient. The Overseer nods, then looks over at Lucius.

“I’m off,” he tells him. He grabs the papers from the console and takes them with him on his way toward the door.

You wish you could breathe a sigh of relief upon the man’s final departure, but you’re still as tense as ever. The opening and loud shutting of the room’s door only shakes you. After everything, the dark room is now bathed in silence. You clutch yourself tighter, letting everything slowly sink in. Your head is still pounding a bit from being knocked over, and your neck still stings from the long strain of having it forced up for so long. The pain won’t subside, but you hope it’ll eventually fade enough to let you rest.

It’s still hard for you to really comprehend everything that’s just occurred, and everything you’ve just seen. You don’t really know how this all happened. It all went through in the blink of an eye, practically. And now that you actually have a bit of time to breathe, you just can’t. Your chest is tight, your head spinning, and your throat shut.

Lucius finally looks over at you with a neutral expression, though he smiles slightly when he sees you.

“Guess it’s you and me,” he says casually, walking closer to you. He puts the folder he took from Lilah at the foot of the bed and sits before you. The proximity makes you shrink back a bit, recoiling from the man. However, he remains still where he is and merely watches you with his dark eyes.

“I told you not to piss him off,” he reminds you. “Yet you went and did anyway. You’re a rather stubborn one, aren’t you?”

You struggle to speak up. Rather, you aren’t sure if you should. You got accustomed to being threatened into silence that you’re afraid to make another misstep. Lucius sees your hesitance and gives an amused laugh.

“Don’t fret so much, Ten,” he tries to assure you. “I’m alright with you speaking up around me. You can cry, scream, and talk back if you like, so long as the curtain is open. My boss is the one who’s adamant about having his quiet. He hates noise, and he has little patience for people like you whereas I have plenty.”

He grins.

“You’re no threat to me, princess. Besides, I’m accustomed to the silence. Hearing your frightened noises will be a nice change of pace.”

You shift your eyes away when the man leans in a bit closer to you. The slight trembling in your body grows exponentially with his proximity.

“You’re frightened,” he observes, his voice amused. “I suppose you have reason to be. But as long as you sit quietly, as long as you don’t cause a ruckus, you will be absolutely fine.”

Your eyes slowly drift back to Lucius, though they go beyond his face. You wind up looking down at his holster. From where you are, it would be possible to reach over and grab the pistol on his right side. You almost want to try plucking it from him. If the boss is gone and you can incapacitate his gunman, you’ll be able to walk out of here, right? The room isn’t locked from the outside. You could escape if-

Lucius grabs your hand which you hadn’t even noticed you were mindlessly moving forward while thinking to yourself. He pulls it back far enough for it to hurt immensely, and the action causes you to yelp. You reach up and curl the fingers of your other hand over his wrist and plead for him to stop, but Lucius remains adamant on holding you like this.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you,” he warns with a tilt of his head. “I may be more lenient, but I am no fool, nor am I unable to punish you myself. Don’t try anything stupid if you want to survive.”

You again beg to be let go, the stinging pain in your wrist as your hand is flexed in such an uncomfortable manner leaving you in a state of panic. Lucius, however, refuses.

“You’re scared. You’re not thinking straight,” he criticizes you. “You don’t know how to unholster a gun, much less how to shoot one. You have no plan to escape, and you have no reason to leave when you have so many people you don’t want to leave behind. Your attempt would be impractical and sentimentally unsound. And…”

He smirks.

“…You don’t have it in you to shoot anyone. That’s something you have to learn to deal with. I’ve been doing this long enough for it not to phase me. But it’s always crushing the first time you do it.”

Lucius finally releases your hand, and you drop your grip from his wrist to care for your own. The stinging pain subsides a little, but it’s still as present as all the other pains you’ve gone through today.

You glower slightly.

“Why bring me here?” You question, though your voice is a bit hushed and still fairly shaky. “Why not just lock me in another room?”

“My boss has his reasons, as he said,” Lucius reminds you. “Evidently he’s not thrilled to have to deal with you, but he’s opted to keep a close eye on you. Keeping you this close is probably his best bet. Putting you anywhere else might be risky. My only other guess is that he didn’t want any suspicion to be raised about you being alive. He doesn’t want anyone to know you’re around. As far as they know, you’re dead. Or worse.”

Your eyes widen. “…Worse?”

“The former can easily become a truth,” Lucius goes on, ignoring your question. He finally leans back away and sits normally on the bed. “But I’m sure once your fear settles, you’ll be able to think more clearly about your actions, and you’ll refrain from doing something stupid again.”

You look down at the chains around your wrists. They’re thick and dark, unlike most other things you’ve seen in this facility. The Overseer had said they were old, after all. Old, but certainly well kempt and still strong as ever, you can see.

“Why did he show me those videos?” You ask Lucius. “Your boss has always been secretive. Why suddenly be so open?”

Lucius sighs. “I can’t claim to know his intentions all the time. But evidently he’s thought about what showing those to you would mean and what you’d learn from them. I’m sure he has weighed things thoroughly.”

“If you’re his right-hand man, why don’t you know?”

Lucius gives a bit of a chuckle. “Are you trying to make me feel bad? My boss does as he likes. There are many things I don’t know. However, there are many things he doesn’t know either. Or at least, he doesn’t know them right away. As he said, my role here is vast. I do a lot for him, so I’m exposed to a lot of things before he is. Your doctor’s foolishness, for instance.”

You drop your hands and instead wrap your arms around your knees.

“I protected him,” Lucius says. “As long as I could.”

Your fingers tighten around your elbows. “Why?”

“I simply felt like it,” is the man’s blunt response. “Granted, I held Yosuke on a string while I could. Just for the fun of it. He knew the circumstances, and he knew he was guilty. You, however, I wasn’t expecting to have to take away. That came as a bit of a shock to even me. Even moreso was the fact that I was expected to watch you. My superior hadn’t mentioned it prior.”

He sighs, then smiles to himself. “It is what it is. I can handle a thing like you and still do my job. The question is whether you can handle your own confinement. You don’t really realize how much of a luxury it is to be allowed to enjoy your time here. To smile and have your own little pastimes. It’s a privilege you’ll have none of here. But you can return to it, as long as you play your cards right.”

You drop your eyes. “But without my memory?”

Lucius smiles eerily. “As I said, so long as you play your cards right.”

He doesn’t linger then, instead grabbing the file to his right and rising from the bed.

“Now be good and silent. I have to concentrate on this,” he tells you as he towers above you. “Sleep. Cry if you like. I’ll let you have the time to absorb everything. No doubt you’ll need it.”

He gives you no chances to ask anything else. Instead, he drags the curtain loudly across your peripheral, blocking you off from the rest of the room.

You start to wonder just why this is here to begin with. The Overseer had said the bed was a relic, but there must be some reason the curtain is here too. You suspect you’re not the only person he’s had here, and this thought only makes you more uncomfortable.

But, strangely, with the curtain drawn, you feel safer. You know that the safety is a mere veil, an illusion that can be shattered in an instant once the curtain is pulled back. But somehow, being between it and the wall without anyone in sight is far better to you right now. You’re sure you’ll get sick of it soon.

Finally able to think, it really starts to dawn on you that you’re going to be stuck here for an indiscernible period of time. The tightness in your chest and the lump in your throat remains. The more you think about not seeing anyone again, the more cumbersome the lump in your throat grows. Again, you find yourself with tears rolling past your eyelashes and down your cheeks. You’d held back as much as you could earlier, but you can’t stop yourself now.

You don’t want to think about the fragments of video you saw. You realize you never even got to see Cyrus’, but figure it’s better that you didn’t. Knowing now that the other Numbers certainly had family that they were taken from greatly saddens you and rips your hear to shreds. It’s one thing to hear about the possibility, but the consequence of a fractured memory was finally given a face that you don’t like.

This has all only served to remind you how alone you are here, even when you’re all together. You don’t know who you are, you don’t know who you’ve left behind. You can’t possibly know. Even seeing your own feed, being shown blatantly the first time you ever really met The Overseer while conscious, you still can’t remember him. The girl in that video wasn’t you. It had to have been someone else.

Quietly, you put your head down in your arms and start to breathe and gasp heavily as you sob. You wish you could stop yourself, but as soon as you’ve started, it comes involuntarily. There’s an ache in your chest and heart that you can’t shake.

You can hear Lucius shuffling around in a chair, no doubt the one in front of the desk as he looks over the file Lilah gave him. To think he’s hearing you and giving absolutely no care about how much you’re suffering now is unbearable.

The more you sob, the more you realize that none of the other Numbers will know what’s happened to you. Maybe they’ll think you’re dead, like the doctors. You know without a doubt they’ll hold out as long as they can in the hopes that you’ll return to them soon. Last time you went missing, if was only a few days, and yet they were so worried about you. Now, they won’t see you for even longer. Weeks. Months even. You have no clue just how long you’re going to be here, but you know it’ll be long enough for the others to give up and move on from you.

This only makes you cry harder.

How did this happen? You were so happy just a while ago. You were doing much better. The men confining you must have known what was happening. They wanted you to suffer, didn’t they?

Lucius especially…he must have seen what you did and heard everything you said. You don’t put it past him to be the type to toy with others. He must have done so with you, electing to have The Overseer rip you away at your highest point. Now, you may well hit your lowest. You don’t know how you’re going to hold up, but you have to try. Still, right now, you just want to let things out. You’re tired. You’re weak. So long as you stay here confined to this bed, you’ll remain weak.

But, if you do what you know you have to, you’re sure you’ll survive. Yosuke had said his boss could be merciful, so for once, you’re going to trust his word. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t care an inkling about how he’ll be affected by your disappearance. Will he replace you? Will he be angry? Sad? How is he going to react to your letter?

You meant every word you said, but now’s not the time to fight him. Now, you have to try keeping yourself afloat. You can’t afford to fall into the same mental pit that others have. As it is, you already feel a bit hopeless. You can’t stop crying, you can’t even bring yourself to remain positive right now. You know what you have to do, it’s just going to be hard as hell to.

After a while of sobbing relentlessly, your cries gradually start to subside. Your face and eyes are horrendously puffy, to a point that it feels like someone’s squeezing your head tightly. Your vision has blurred slightly, and you can’t muster the energy to do anything but lay down. You wish you at least had a blanket to cover your naked body, but you’re sure The Overseer won’t trust you to have one. As it is, you stupidly reached for Lucius’ gun. There’s no reason for either man to suspect you won’t misbehave further.

Now that your tears have finally passed, you lay on your side, facing the wall by your bed. You notice a dark shape upon it, close to the edge of your mattress. It’s a sizeable hole, and likely the result of The Overseer’s bullet firing past you.

The light from the monitors is still bright enough to pierce through the curtains, and so your small little cove isn’t entirely unilluminated. You notice that the lights are flickering a bit now, and you’re led to assume that in the midst of your sobs, Lucius had moved onto monitoring the cameras.

The Overseer seems not to have minded you knowing there were cameras, but evidently he’s not just going to let you see what’s on them or where they’re pointed. You’re too weary now to try guessing where they are. Instead, your mind wanders back to the video feed of you, Lucius, and the boss.

You find it odd that he interviewed you himself, and that he did so in a far different manner than Gale. He was more adamant about pressing for information, and had no intentions of killing you then. You wonder what must have happened after your surgery for him to take such an interest, enough to be the one to helm the interview instead of Gale. Did you wake up? Did you react incorrectly to the drug?

You seemed not to remember a thing then. You certainly remembered nothing when you awoke in Yosuke’s arms. Not who you were or might have been. The names you recited on video even still don’t ring a bell to you. They could be random names, or they could be people you really do know and just can’t recall. You have no clue.

But as of late, some things have come to light that have left you wondering a little more about who you might have been. You said something about a garden when prompted in the video. You even mentioned a sunset. You’re again starting to wonder just what that garden in your dream was. You don’t remember it at al. It’s not the least bit familiar to you. So why is it constantly popping up in your mind? Always a garden, always a sunset. You can’t understand.

And for that matter, what about the “house” and the ballroom? You dreamt so vividly about these things. You remember feeling real fear at being threatened by Lucius that you wonder whether you were truly remembering your first meeting with him. The Overseer had mentioned he took you.

You can’t imagine these visions and these thoughts aren’t important to you now. The wedding vows too, though you’re sure The Overseer heard you say them and talk about remembering them. If he was fishing for information in the video of you, you have no doubt in your mind he’s collected information from you and the other Numbers without any of you ever knowing for certain that you were being watched.

You try to force yourself to remember something. Anything. All that happens is the usual static in your head. You go numb, and it even starts to hurt now that you have a slightly throbbing head from being hit. You decide to drop it for now and shut your eyes. You’re going to have plenty of time to deal with this anyway.

You bring your arms closer to the shoulder you’re leaning on. As your fingers curl weakly into your palms, you imagine that you’re being held by someone. Anyone.

You’re already so exhausted that you’re ready to collapse. However, you find that this is the only thing that helps you fall asleep.

Chapter 61: Red

It’s not clear when you fell asleep, and so you’re taken a bit by surprise when you gradually wake. Not only that, but your eyes don’t exactly register your surroundings right away. For just a moment, you’re blissfully unaware of where you are and what your situation is. It’s only the clinging of the chains against one another that reminds you.

Your heart sinks again as you remember everything that just occurred. Your head still hurts, and your ears ring for a little while, unprovoked to, while you lay there.

The wall is in your sight, the bullet hole still present before you. Once your eyes adjust fully, you notice the flickering of light against the surface of it, and you know for certain that the curtain is drawn behind you and that someone is in the room. You were told not to make noise when it’s drawn, but it’s not like you have a desire to right now. You don’t really even want to move.

Once another uncomfortable wave of ear ringing subsides, you’re able to concentrate on the distinct sounds of keys being pressed. Slowly, at an even pace. You’re led to assume someone’s monitoring the cameras right now.

The light of the screens behind the curtain still reaches to where you are, though only the part of the wall above your body is illuminated. The rest of the wall in your immediate peripheral vision is bathed in a shadow shaped vaguely like you, since your body’s blocking whatever other light there is. You feel strange staring at it for so long, but it’s not like you can do much else. Shift around, maybe. But that would only do good in relieving any stiffness in your body from staying in one position for too long.

This is already unbearable.

How long has it been, you wonder? You don’t feel like you’ve been put out at all. You vaguely remember Lucius saying he’d let you sleep on your own, but he could have easily put you under while you were already asleep. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

You also certainly wouldn’t put it past him to touch you either. There’s luckily no apparent difference in your body than there was before that you know of or can feel right away, aside from the problems with your head. So, there’s no real reason to assume you were messed with. You guess it’s a nice change of pace from being relentlessly fucked, but you know that getting out of this room also means going back to that routine. Is it any better than laying here miserably?

Granted, Lucius hasn’t much bothered to show an interest in you like others have. At least, not that you can tell outside of his strange fascination for the stillness of the sleeping and the dead. Maybe he and Lilah get along in that case. You wonder what was up with her reaction to you, and to her words of anger. She acted much like Mom would to being excluded, which is almost laughable knowing how much the two have been said to dislike each other.

Now that you can actually think straight, you do find it odd. It’s hard to imagine the crude woman having worked here for a drastically long time since she’s already so young according to the others. Then again, maybe she’s one of the few who never got a formal education. Yosuke had explicitly said not everyone was formally trained.

Yosuke…

It’s not as if you much care for the man, but you can’t help but be curious about how he’s reacting to your disappearance. Does he suspect that you’re still alive? Does he think you aren’t? He’s not a stupid man, but certainly flawed. You’re sure even he could be confused or left puzzled too. You’d like to enjoy the idea of him being upset about you being gone, but you’re being punished in part too. You’re both apparently guilty of upsetting The Overseer. You entirely dislike that you have that in common.

Upon remembering your conversation with your doctor before being taken away, you’re left to ponder just how long all the doctors have all really been here. You’re certain Mom precedes most of this group, and that Yosuke and Monica are fairly recent. You can’t much place anyone else. You figure Gale must have been here for a while themself if they were doing all those interviews even as far back as the arrival of the twins. You couldn’t imagine they were here from the start, though.

Thinking of the twins again only hurts your heart. They have no idea just what they’re missing from their lives, and nor does anyone else. Even if all you got out of the videos was that the two had a father and a home, it’s still disturbing to know that much. You wonder how their father must feel having his children ripped away from him. Did they get kidnapped? Were they sold? Were they torn away by force? Is their father even still alive? If so, is he searching for them?

Is anyone searching for you too?

You shut your eyes tight as another wave of ringing occurs in your ears, though this time it lasts far shorter than the other waves did. The gunshot really must have messed with you. You can’t imagine it wouldn’t have—it was far too loud and far too close. How The Overseer and Lucius manage not to be bothered by the noise of gunshots, you don’t know. Obviously, they’ve been doing it for a long enough time where they can handle it without flinching, though you’re sure it still affects their hearing. They’re in charge of you and trained in their ways, not invincible.

What the hell does a doctor need with a gun, anyway? You don’t think most doctors actively train for combat unless there’s a real reason to. Those men have some experience for certain. They know how to aim and how to purposefully miss. They can unholster and shoot fairly quickly. You know nothing of weaponry, but both men seem far out of the leagues of an average citizen. Anyone can probably shoot a gun. It takes time to learn how to shoot it well, and even more time to learn how to shoot it in a way that suits your own needs.

Not like you know what any of that is like. But thinking of the guns only reminds you of your mistake of reaching for Lucius’ pistol. You were too fearful to think straight then. You hadn’t even considered you wouldn’t have been able to run away with your wrists already chained up. You really don’t think ahead, do you?

You slowly open your eyes again and glance down at your wrists. There’s a small hole in the cuffs that you hadn’t really caught before, so you figure there must be a key. Not like you’ll have a chance to grab it, though. Even if you did, you wouldn’t make it very far out of here.

In any case, you’re still swallowing the reality of your confinement, if understanding it a little better now that you’re already here, chained to an uncomfortable, old bed. You wonder what kind of cruel experiments were done on people down here back in the day, and how many people might have died on this bed.

Will you die here too?

Again, you shut your eyes and try to push this thought away.

Your attention shifts when you hear a loud knock on the door of the room. Despite the noise, you remain silent and still, staying on your side and staring intently at the blank wall so that you can focus on the sounds behind you.

You hear another press of a button, and promptly the light in the room grows subtly brighter as whoever is here with you no doubt checks the feed by the door. Following this action is a faint, bothered sigh, and the consequent rolling back of a chair. Casual steps of one of the men’s shoes makes a clacking noise as the soles hit the hard floor, and shortly after is the sound of the door opening.

There is no verbal exchange. You hear nothing but a few shuffling noises and the clinking of something against some kind of hard surface. You aren’t sure what to make of what’s being heard or why there’s nothing being said between whoever’s at the door and whoever’s watching you. You presume it’s a worker, then, that’s interrupted any monitoring of the halls.

The door again shuts, and more footsteps follow. Strangely, you also hear the chair being moved. The footsteps and dragging noises grow gradually closer to you, until they stop. Immediately after, you hear the curtain being pulled aside, though you remain still and continue to stare at the wall. Something is placed by your legs, and you hear your guard sitting back in the chair that you assume has been dragged by your bed.

“You need to eat,” Lucius’ voice rings out. He probably heard your chains rattling a bit earlier, so it’s no surprise he knows you’re awake. You hesitate to turn, but do eventually rise. You cover your breasts by wrapping your arms around yourself, and keep your legs pressed firmly together. When you’ve finally shifted up, you see a bottle of water and a tray by the foot of your bed. Atop it is some kind of pasta dish, leading you to wonder whether it’s dinnertime. Were you asleep all day? Granted, you had a good reason to be. Yesterday’s events left you weary, frustrated, hopeless. Even now you still remain exhausted.

Your eyes flicker to Lucius, and you note him reviewing some kind of packet of pages. He’s marking a few things off with a pen, but you have no idea what. He’s not at all concentrated on you. He’s not even smiling.

“Are you going to watch me?” You question wearily.

“In a manner of speaking,” Lucius remarks without bothering to look up. “I’m not exactly interested in watching you eat. Rather, I need to. He doesn’t want me leaving you alone with utensils.”

You glance back at the tray and see a fork placed beside the plate, atop a napkin.

“I wouldn’t say it’s wise to bring a fork to a gunfight,” you answer him with a light glower. “I don’t see the need.”

Lucius frowns from behind his work. “Don’t fuss. I’m patient, but not a pushover. Eat.”

You grip the flesh of your upper arms more tightly, angrily pressing your fingers against yourself enough for your nails to dig into the skin a little. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so angry. Of course you have the right to be. But you don’t get why such a small statement’s gotten you riled up.

Regardless, you eventually drop your arms and reach over to take the tray and water. Seeing the food makes you wonder how Charlie is doing. Will he miss you like the others will? He seemed to have always watched over the Numbers, so you can’t imagine he doesn’t or wouldn’t care. You’re at least glad to have a tiny reminder of him, if only through his food. And, at the very least, you’re not being fed something disgusting as a prisoner in this room. Even here, you’re still allowed to eat well.

Quietly, you begin to peck at your food and eat it. You don’t at all do it to indulge Lucius’ order, but rather for your worker friend. There’s an uncomfortable silence lingering in the room now. You’re not precisely thrilled to be like this in front of the man. Even if he isn’t really looking at you, it’s still discomforting.

“Why is it so dark in here?” You quietly ask between bites, though you keep your gaze fixed forward to avoid looking at Lucius. He does not give any gestures of any sort, instead responding bluntly,

“My boss prefers it this way. This room is a respite for him, even if he works regularly in it. The bright lights of the facility aren’t always something he prefers to bask in since he’s in them regularly enough as it is. Unlike you, he has the ability to choose to abstain from them. You no doubt are tired of the light yourself.”

“The dark isn’t any better,” you mutter before taking another forkful of your dish. You’re not exactly hungry.

Lucius scribbles for a while on a new page after flipping one over. The backs of these pages are blank, so you can’t really see anything of note on them from the corner of your eye.

“The dark isn’t so bad,” Lucius gives a bit of a pitiful laugh, still too focused on what he’s doing. “You’re merely inexperienced. Consider this a chance to learn.”

He continues scribbling while you remain silent as you eat. You suppose whatever he’s doing doesn’t at all pertain to you and is likely more about someone or something else, judging by how much he’s jotting down. You notice that Lucius’ dark eyes scan the page fairly quickly in his focus.

Wanting to break the quiet, you ask him,

“Your name is Lucius?”

The man again remains focused on the page before him, though he responds without a hitch. “That’s a very needless question when you heard my superior address me as such clearly.”

You tighten your grip on your fork. Again, you feel a wave of anger, this time at being insulted. Nonetheless, you hold your tongue, still a bit hesitant to speak out after what happened with The Overseer.

This time, you stay silent by choice and merely continue to eat in anger. Lucius does not seem amused or unamused by your attitude, merely quietly scribbling away while occasionally turning a page.

You eventually do decide to shift your head ever so slightly to your left, just enough to see the rest of the room better. You don’t at all bother looking at Lucius, rather past him. Unfortunately, the screens on the other side of the room aren’t displaying anything of note. Naturally, the man watching you isn’t at all stupid. He knew to hide his work. Instead, the screens are displaying several random windows full of code and text that you can’t at all make out from your side of the room. Whatever you can make out is mostly just numbers and symbols and equations that make no sense to you.

“Quit prying,” Lucius chastises you firmly, completely aware of what you’re doing without much having to look at you. However, he does eventually lower his pen and looks up at you.

“How are you feeling now, by the way?”

Why is he suddenly asking you this? It almost takes you aback how he shifts so easily between being domineering and being casual.

“Tired,” you answer honestly nonetheless. “And no thanks to your boss, my ears keep ringing.”

“You brought that on yourself, didn’t you?” Lucius criticizes you without a second thought. He doesn’t appear at all phased by your snappiness. “I warned you not to make him mad.”

He smiles his cold smile. “You do love to poke and prod. You always have.”

“You say that like you know a lot about me,” you scowl before taking another bite of your food.

“I do,” Lucius assures you. “I’ve had to see a lot of you. I’m sure by now you’ve guessed we’ve been monitoring you. So, I know a lot about your group, and so does he. Even things that we really don’t want to know or that aren’t important to us get seen. Petty drama, useless conversations, boring games.”

You pause with the fork in your mouth, suddenly aware of all the awkward and personal things you’ve said and done. Lucius gives a laugh at your wide-eyed expression.

“Even that,” he says, adding fuel to the fire. “You excite easily, you know. I suppose that’s a good thing for the other doctors who enjoy your body so much. Especially your own doctor. It’s unfortunate that he let himself get too attached.”

You lower your eyes. It’s Yosuke’s own fault that he lost you. He didn’t have to let himself get that obsessed. As much as you hate to compliment the man, he’s smart. He should have known better.

“Men do strange things for pleasure,” Lucius laughs to himself. “I’m aware.”

You glance over at the man and frown.

“A lot of the doctors seem like they’re able to detach more easily from their Numbers,” you remark. “Mom and Yosuke don’t.”

Lucius shrugs. “Vanessa’s case is a bit different. But that woman’s always been trouble for us.”

“Why do you keep her around then?” You question, attempting to seize the opportunity to know. “What’s the point when you find her so difficult? When she doesn’t care what you do to her?”

“We have our reasons,” is Lucius’ vague response. This is a phenomenally displeasing non-answer. However, you’re even more certain now that she’s been here for a long, long time. Perhaps even from the beginning. “Were she expendable, we would never have kept her. Most of the doctors here have some kind of worth to us. That isn’t always the case.”

You drop your fork a bit.

“So what about the doctors of people like Jade?” You ask. Lucius gives a bit of a scoffing laugh.

“Well, that’s not exactly your business, is it?”

“Then don’t tell me things you won’t elaborate on. I get enough of that from Yosuke.”

Lucius returns his eyes to his work and continues to write. “I can tell you anything I like, really, since my boss isn’t here, and I rank above the other doctors in terms of freedom. The boss has always trusted me to do things his way. Like your own doctor, I’ve always been loyal, if a bit secretive at times. I’ve protected my superior from quite a lot. But of course, I don’t much feel like explaining things to you. It’s hardly important for you to know.”

“Then what can you tell me?” You question eagerly. “What will you allow me?”

“How desperate,” Lucius crudely criticizes you. “While I suppose it’s worth having a bit of mental fodder to cling to while you’re stuck in that bed, I can’t give you a laundry list of things I’ll talk about. You merely have to press the right buttons, at the risk of pushing the wrong ones.”

You sigh and continue to peck tiredly at your dish. It’s nearly gone by now.

“What about Jade, then?”

Lucius raises a brow. “What of her?”

“Why did you know her by name when the boss didn’t?” You inquire. “I figured he’d be the one to know more.”

“He doesn’t like looking back,” Lucius shrugs this off as if it’s common knowledge. “He got his data, he dealt with her situation, and then he tossed her.”

Hearing this only irks you.

“She was still a person.”

“A weak one,” Lucius comments casually. “I’m sure you’ve been made aware of the other pregnant girl we had before her, so you know returning them is a possibility. But Jade was one we couldn’t even salvage. Then again, we really didn’t want to anyway. She wasn’t worth it.”

You scowl.

“Why do you call her by her name?” You remain insistent. It’s both unusual and infuriating that Lucius keeps calling her Jade. He has no right to when he’s speaking so illy of her. “If you cared so little of her you’d use her Number.”

This amuses Lucius. “I figured you’d be happy I referred to her by a more humanistic name. You really aren’t satisfied by anything, are you, princess?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you what I like. I could call you ‘lowly piece of shit’ if I wanted; be as crude as my boss. But I think ‘princess’ is nicer, don’t you?”

You look away and say nothing. However, Lucius lowers his work in his lap and leans forward a bit.

“I killed her,” he says lowly, almost whispering this sudden bit of information. His breath hits your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widen slightly in response to the statement. You figured this was the case, but to be told this so blatantly is frightening. He sounds unremorseful and cold. Even a bit like he’s gloating, of all things. He’s trying to toy with you.

Lucius pulls away to sit back in his chair, and his casual tone returns. He continues to smile. “I know her title well. I took it along with her life. The same is the case with most everyone who’s lost to this place. One day I may well have your name, Rose. And I will use it ever diligently before your doctor, if only to amuse myself with his frustrations.”

You shudder hearing the name, but are unable to give a response. Knowing that he’s aware of Yosuke’s private name for you only makes such a name more haunting.

Lucius then slightly frowns.

“Now finish eating. I won’t ask you again.”

Not wanting to get him riled up, you do what he’s said to, quietly opting to take the last few bites of your food. Eventually, Lucius finishes up on the last page of his packet and rises to his feet. He keeps an eye on you, but does move his chair back by the computer and moves to put the packet away in the topmost drawer of the file cabinet beside the large desk on the left wall.

Lucius’ temporary absence from your side gives you time to breathe again. Only now do you realize that your hands are shaking slightly. You’re not really sure what exactly prompted such a fearful response, given that there’s too much to be afraid of in this room.

Your eyes wander over to the screen as they had before, and you end up wondering how the other Numbers are doing. Do they know you’re gone yet? Do they at all suspect that you are?

You’re at least glad that their last memory of you for a while was a pleasant one. You, on the other hand, have to stay here and remember everything you saw on those videos. Every bit of fear and misery the other Numbers dealt with.

Remembering your own face leaves you dizzy. You absolutely can’t recall anything from that time, even when it was blatantly shown to you. The memory isn’t blocked off like so many others, just too weak to fetch. Then again, after seeing what you did, maybe that’s for the best. You’d hate to remember something like that.

Wearily, you return your gaze to the foot of the bed and stare mindlessly at the chains resting there as your thoughts shift. Again, Cyrus pops into your head. You feel guilty that you left him behind, even if you know it’s not really your fault. Although you had the choice to follow The Overseer’s word and remain silent and obedient, you refused. Even so, you’ll stand by your decision. You had your own reasons.

You’re worried how Cyrus and Lav will take you being gone. Cyrus already concerns you with how easy it is for him to slip away if he lets himself. Lav seems strong, yet she really cares enough about you that your disappearance could really damage her. You don’t really know what to expect, but you hope desperately that they can hold on.

It’s not really clear if The Overseer fully intends to return you as he said. He seemed willing to kill you if he had to, unbothered by ripping you from your doctor and your friends permanently despite saying he intended to give you back. You don’t trust it, but fighting what he decides isn’t at all an option.

You know when you’re beat.

Perhaps you can survive being here, but the issue is, you’re not sure for just how long. You don’t even know what impact it will have on your mind and body. Just laying here, pumped full of anesthetic on and off, going between abused and neglected by two cold and uncaring men.

Frustrated with all these thoughts, you wind up shutting your eyes. The thought of your friends keeps you at bay for now, but you’re not sure how long it will.

Again, your mind lingers on Cyrus. But you don’t have time to process anything more when you hear Lucius step toward you again. Once he’s done with what he’s doing, he comes back to you and quietly takes your tray away. He says nothing, but flashes you a cold smile again when he catches you looking nervously at him. You shyly wrap your arms around yourself when his piercing glare uncomfortably reminds you that you’re naked. The chains that brush against your skin are cold.

Despite the discomfort, you try to get in one more question before your temporary guardian shuts you out once more.

“Lucius?”

Is it alright to refer to him by name?

The man doesn’t take any offense to it. Rather, he makes a brief “hm?” noise as he takes the tray to the console and leaves it at the corner of its flat jutting edge.

“Why didn’t your boss have One’s footage?”

Lucius does not seem bothered by this question, but certainly not amused either. He returns to you and grabs the curtain, but lingers there while he stares down at you with the same smile.

“You suffered enough seeing the footage of the others,” he reminds you. “Would you really have wanted to see his?”

No, you suppose not. Based on Cyrus saying that he was a little different back then, you figure maybe he fought like Eight and Violet, or maybe he crumbled more easily. Even so, seeing him in either state would have crushed you. If anything, you just want to know how things went. Or, maybe you just want to see his face again.

“No,” you answer truthfully. “I just…wanted to know why One wasn’t included.”

“You mean Cyrus?” Lucius responds curiously, shaking you suddenly. You hadn’t expected him to say the young man’s name, even after establishing his awareness of prisoners’ nicknames. “Your footage was of your group. His footage is with the others. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that he’s really not one of you. He precedes you.”

“You called him by his name too,” you remark, your voice low and hesitant. “Why? And why aren’t you upset that he knows his own name? Is it even his, then?”

Lucius smirks. “Presumptuous, aren’t you? I suppose it’s no surprise you’d ask so eagerly about the boy given your attachment to him. As for his name, it is his.”

“Then why let him know it if you’re so against us knowing things about ourselves?” You demand. Lucius laughs subtly.

“We gave it to him,” he admits. “For our own reasons, of course. It didn’t prove to be of any significance after all, but we figured we’d let him keep his memory of it. Why waste resources wiping something that unimpactful and unimportant that he didn’t even remember on his own? A name is a name. Now, had it triggered a memory of his life before this, perhaps we’d have done something.”

Your eyes widen. Cyrus had said his doctor dropped his file, and that he read his first name. Even mentioned a photo if you recall. You never thought Mom had done what she did on purpose. She was probably told to by her boss or someone else.

But why?

Were they trying to get a reaction from him? In the videos, it seemed like they were trying to see whether the Numbers could remember anything after their procedure. Evidently, it was likely to test the effectiveness of it and see what needed to be improved on. Why was Cyrus’ case so special that they allowed him this? Was his procedure ineffective, or did they have reason to believe it might have been?

Moreover, what is the purpose of the hellish routine you’re put through if The Overseer seems much more intensely interested in his prisoner’s minds and memories? You’re starting to learn that the sex isn’t even a major part of all this. It’s secondary to whatever his intentions are.

Your head’s starting to spin with more questions. You’ve suspected for a while that this facility has more to it than you initially saw, but you can’t understand anything. It’s equal parts frustrating and horrifying.

You’re also left questioning why Lucius is being so open with you right now about something like this. Sure, he implied he doesn’t tell his boss everything despite their closeness as colleagues, and that in turn implies he does and says things he probably shouldn’t or can get away with because he has his boss’ trust. All of that was fairly obvious after talking with him, and even when he withheld what Yosuke did from The Overseer for as long as he did. But you wonder whether he’s being cocky about it all now. Does this mean your memory really is in danger? Is he counting on you to forget all of this? Does he know his boss’ intentions?

He could also just be toying with you, since he seems to enjoy doing so even in small ways. He probably made a game out of his kidnappings of you and your friends, too. You can’t imagine how horrified they must have been to encounter him, especially if he was as threatening as you’ve seen him be. He kills without remorse. Whereas his superior likely does it with an unexpressive glare, Lucius smiles, and it scares you.

You start to tremble. Thinking of all these questions and the hopelessness of your situation is again starting to weigh heavy on your heart. You aren’t even sure if you feel miserable or angry. Perhaps both, but you can’t really think straight right now.

“Why are you doing this to us?!” You demand of the man beside you. “Why are you so goddamn horrible?”

You wouldn’t be able to get away with asking The Overseer something like this. Last time you had an outburst, he shot at you. Lucius, however, remains patient and unprovoked.

“Do be quiet,” he answers, ignoring your question. The juxtaposition of your memory of his shooting Jay and his firm voice shakes you further. “It’s time I get back to my business. I’m not here to baby you, you know. I’m not your doctor.”

Another wave of unbridled anger washes relentlessly over you the longer you hear him speak this way to you. You can’t understand where it’s coming from all of a sudden. Not only are you left in a state of despair, but now you’re silently seething. You can’t stand it. All you can do is tightly grip your flesh and grit your teeth. If you could act out even a little, you certainly would. Only Yosuke might entertain it. You can’t do that here.

Lucius gives a final amused smirk at your rather obvious affliction before drawing the curtain on you. You don’t really even hear where he goes next because your ears start to ring as much as they start to burn with heat with how frustrated you are. Your entire face Is fairly warm, in fact. You feel like you’re about to burst, but you don’t know whether you want to cry or scream. Why do you feel like this?

You can’t really think now. You wind up unfurling your arms and moving each hand to either side of your head. Your knees fold up again, and you curl up where you’re sitting, trying to calm yourself down. Your breaths become deeper and more pronounced as you remain in this state of frustration.

A few times, you angrily tug at your chains, but are promptly told by Lucius to be quiet. His voice sounds so clearly even from behind the curtain by your bed. Despite your anger, you obey.

Time passes after this, though you have no idea how much. At some point you do manage to calm down and merely focus on finding something to occupy yourself while you remain in your bed. You can do no more than make up scenarios in your head or think of random things to pass the time further, all the while staring at whatever’s around you and listening to Lucius’ shuffling about the room. There’s an occasional sound of papers being shuffled and turned, scribbling from a pen on the surface of each page, and gliding of wheels along the hard floor.

The keys being tapped sounds now and again as well, making you wonder just how often the cameras are checked. You’re sure it’s inconsistent if the two men have to regularly go upstairs to carry out other tasks. But now that Lucius has been tasked with watching you, evidently there’s far more time for him to monitor the cameras. Not only those that are near where you’ve gone, but even ones that might be around the entire facility.

You force yourself to nap even when you’re not tired. Sleeping is better than staying awake, laying there, and being forced to think of things you’d rather not. But at some point, you can’t really bring yourself to sleep any longer and wind up having to occupy yourself more. You don’t really want to think. Letting your mind wander now will only make you more aware of your situation and thus much more miserable.

You notice that the walls are white aside from a very faded stain above your bed that you wind up having to squint at for a long while to really make out in this dim light. You catch wind of a very peculiar dent in the rod where the curtain is hanging from, leading you to think that maybe the thing fell from its place and was damaged by the fall. Perhaps someone yanked the curtain too hard. You wonder who.

There are exactly forty-nine little cracks protruding from the bullet hole by your bed, and you at some point have stared at the thing so long that your vision is a tinge blurred from the strain your eyes have been put through doing so. You’ve lost count quite a lot, and you’ve lost sight of what area you were counting from far more times than you really can keep track of.

Eventually, you grow tired of doing nothing, but not enough to actually fall asleep. All you can do after a certain point is lay there, occasionally shifting between being on your back and your side. It’s not whatsoever comfortable to stay on this thing. The mattress is flat, the fabric a bit scratchy. It’s feasible at the bare minimum, but you’re already starting to miss the comfort of your own bed, even if it means dealing with Yosuke again.

If your memory is in danger of being wiped, what will happen? Will Yosuke use that to his advantage? Try to convince you that you really love him or that you’re okay with all this? Maybe he’d be happy to have you as a clean slate again. He’d have the chance to torture an innocent you all over again. Though, you start to ask whether it’s possible that you could wind up being the same way after a memory wipe as you are now. Is there a chance that you could wind up taking the same steps, thinking the same things, and going through the same motions? Would you be yourself or just a shadow of yourself in that case?

Your eyes drift over to the shadow outline of your body on the wall beside you.

Looking at the thing is alienating to you. It’s your body’s outline, it’s you. But as has been the case when you’ve looked in the mirror before, it just doesn’t feel like you. Slowly, you bring a hand up and watch the faint shadow mimic your movement. You can even see the faint shadow of the chain falling from your wrist reflected in the other version of you. This feels strange.

Eventually, you drop your hand and sit up promptly in an alert state upon hearing the sound of the room door opening. The prolonged silence has left you desperate for something to cling to. You hear a chair turn, followed by Lucius’ questioning voice.

“Boss?” He refers to the person at the door. The Overseer can be heard stepping promptly into the room, the soles of his boots rapping against the floor. The door is heard shutting behind him, and this is followed by the sounds of one of the cabinets being opened. Judging by the noise, you think it’s the glass one, with all the medical supplies.

“I need you for something upstairs,” The Overseer’s voice calls out to Lucius.

Lucius can be heard rising from his chair. “You could have just called.”

Do they have phones?

“I was on my way anyway.” The Overseer retorts without a second thought. You hear the crinkling and subsequent ripping open of a plastic package, followed by a faint glass clinking from where he is by the cabinet. Although loud, these noises subside as quickly as they started. “I’ll also need you to finish researching what I asked when you’re done upstairs. You’ve finished looking over the Nurse’s file, correct?”

“A while ago,” Lucius assures his superior. “I’m waiting on someone to collect it later.”

“Anything of note to report?”

“No. Lilah’s report was pretty stale, if needlessly detailed as ever. Nothing worth looking into. There was one variable in the death that wasn’t foreseen, though I’ve assessed it as irrelevant and unimpactful. No significance in the statistics either, from what was written by the others.”

You hear the glass cabinet being loudly shut.

“Good. Then cover up. This is going to be formal. Quick, with any luck, though I doubt it.”

Lucius says nothing in response, so you can only assume he gave a gesture of some sort. You watch as his shadow passes by the lights coming from behind the curtain. He goes to the other side of the room, and the other cabinet is now heard being opened. The door sounds heavier than the glass cabinet.

You suddenly hear who you think is The Overseer stepping more toward you, and as his shadow grows closer, you instinctively panic. Your heart beats quicker and your breathing becomes shallower. You know he won’t hurt you if you listen to him and remain at his mercy, but you’re still fairly shaken by your encounter with him yesterday, or however long it’s been. Without a schedule, it’s hard to tell.

The curtain is promptly pulled aside, the metal dragging noise of the thing sliding across the bar emitting loudly from above you. Even though you expected it to happen, you still jump a bit in response to the noise.

The Overseer looks down at you with his grey eyes, considerably unamused. In his right hand is a thick syringe, filled quite a bit, but not wholly.

“Lay down,” he commands firmly. Your reaction time is hindered by your fearful state. You know you have to move, but it’s hard to right away. This is something that only riles up the man towering above you. He wastes no time in reaching forward and grabbing your neck. Before you have a chance to react, you’re slammed back against the mattress, and The Overseer’s fingers wrap cruelly around your throat.

You begin to choke slightly, but can still just barely breathe. Your eyes widen and your blood rushes in a panic as you’re touched this way again. Adrenaline pumps through your body, and instinctively, you grab The Overseer’s wrist and forearm and let out a weak crackling whimper.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” The Overseer fiercefully reminds you. “I don’t have patience for your frightened pauses.”

He then frowns. “Move your hands away. Leave them by your sides. Now.”

He tightens his grip on your throat, leaving you to panic more. You try your best to listen to him and drop your hands to your sides, your chains rattling as they settle on the mattress. Your fingers tightly curl against the scratchy fabric, yearning to grab onto something as you lay there in a fearful state.

Your wide eyes shift over to Lucius on the other side of the room, though he’s not the least bit worried about what’s going on with you and is instead tugging the sleeves of a black coat jacket into place. You notice his mask hanging on the inside of the cabinet, behind the door beside a small mirror you hadn’t noticed prior. The red circles of the hanging mask’s lenses only strike you with more unease.

Eventually, The Overseer lets go of your neck and moves his hand to your hair, gripping it tightly, and yanking it to the side to forcefully expose your neck for him.

“Don’t move.”

You heave gasping breaths as you recover from your brief choking, and your chest violently moves up and down with every sucking in and expelling of air. You grunt slightly at the unpleasant piercing of your flesh. The Overseer isn’t taking his time and Is handling you far more roughly than others have before when injecting you. The coldness of the needle and the jabbing pain in your skin are sensations you remain uncomfortably aware of.

Eventually, the pain subsides as The Overseer withdraws from you. He says nothing more to you before promptly turning and moving to his desk, where he discards the syringe in a bin that had been hidden by the chair. He doesn’t even bother to draw the curtain again.

Both The Overseer and Lucius leave you after this. The moment you’ve been injected, it’s as if they stop noticing you’re there at all. Though, you don’t mind it in this instance. You’re still trying to recover from the sudden shock of being grabbed by the throat. You hate that it still affects you. Even though it’s frightening in general to be choked like that, you can distinct the two kinds of fear: that which stems from the imprint of your horrible experience, and that which stems from the shock of being gripped tightly, unable to breathe. Distinguishing them doesn’t much make it easy to deal with, though.

You remain laying on your back with your hands gripping the thin sheet of the mattress tightly. Your breathing and heartbeat both eventually slow as the anesthetic takes hold of you.

Your mind starts to run wildly in your last few moments of consciousness. Evidently, the panic you’ve aroused is still in you. In part, you wonder whether the brain goes through this kind of thing when the body dies. You recall the phrase “life flashing before your eyes”. You doubt you’d suddenly remember anything upon dying. If you feel numbness just by trying to remember something about who you are, you figure that dying would only leave you permanently numb. What a horrible thing.

Your thoughts flicker and flash between memories of your time at the facility. You think back to first meeting the others and to each encounter you’ve had with the Numbers. You already miss them more than you can bear.

When you get to the thought of Cyrus, you ask yourself tiredly why it is The Overseer doesn’t at all try punishing the young man for saying what he does so freely, and for knowing what he does. What makes him so special other than his time spent here?

You miss him. You miss everyone.

As your head wearily turns against your pillow and your vision blurs, you catch sight of the cabinet Lucius had been at. It’s closed now, but you recall seeing the gas mask hanging on the inside. It dawns on you then that you’ve seen those lenses before. Where?

You try to stay awake to mull it over. You suppose you saw it in a dream, but you’re unable to think right now. Eventually, sleep overcomes you, and you slip into the first of likely many long slumbers here.

---

When your eyes open, you’re able to tell that it’s only going to be for a little while. Your body feels glued to the bed, weighted and sluggish. You don’t even bother to move, merely laying there and letting your head spin. You remember feeling this way once before. You’d waken up just like this after your shot. You’re willing to bet, then, that you were shot up with a similar dose of anesthetic as you had been then.

You wonder how Yosuke will react if he finds out how horribly you’re being treated. He can’t exactly do anything about it given that the treatment is coming from his superior and the gunman. Even he had said so. But you can’t imagine he’ll be happy. If anything, it may cause him to hover over you more, and you’re not sure you’re ready for it.

Your eyes shut again as you try to stop the dizziness in your head. You realize there’s a slight pain in your body, but you’re so out of it that you can’t even bring yourself to focus on it much. It’s not long before you fall asleep again.

You’re woken up this time by voices chattering about something. You have no reason to suspect they’re anyone’s but the boss’ and Lucius’, and as your senses are slowly regained, you find this assumption correct. You can’t quite make out what either man is saying, but anything you can gather sounds like incomprehensible jargon to you. There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, so you presume that The Overseer is again dryly sucking at the end of a cigarette and expelling its fumes from his lungs.

The coldness of the room feels more apparent to you for some reason. Perhaps your body grew a bit warm in your slumber. Though, when you finally start to process the sensations in your own body, you realize that the pain you felt earlier remains. It’s not so painful that it’s hard for you to focus, but it is a rather stinging ache that you can’t ignore. Though, you can’t really recognize it.

Where…?

You wearily bring your hand from your side down your body. After a moment of coming fully into awareness, you realize that the pain is on your lower abdomen. Pressing your fingers there only makes the stinging more apparent. You feel full and discomforted. Bloated, perhaps? You don’t understand why right now.

Tiredly, you begin to sit up. You can’t even focus on the men’s conversation behind the curtain. All you can really make out is their shadows, but you’re more focused on finding out what’s wrong with you. As you sit up, you feel an unusual wetness between your legs. You start to wonder whether you’ve been used, but this assumption is dropped the moment you see a bit of blood on the sheet when you pull your thighs slightly apart. Your heart jumps. Why are you…?

“H-help…” you mutter, quiet at first. Neither man seems to hear your voice so low. Again, you try calling out for help, louder this time. You’re afraid to get The Overseer’s attention, so you wind up calling Lucius’ name instead.

The chattering voices stop.

Your heart beats faster as one of the shadows approaches your curtain, and when it’s drawn, you see Lucius as asked for. The Overseer is standing by his console, leaning on both hands over an open binder on the flat edge. His crystalline ashtray is again by his side, though his cigarette is perched atop one of the wedges in its rim rather than in between his fingers, and is carelessly letting off a stream of light smoke. The Overseer’s body is facing away from you, though his head is turned a bit toward his left so that he can look over his shoulder at you.

Lucius does not once question why you called for him, though his bothered expression, lightly glowering, no doubt comes from his frustration at having to heed you. However, his dark eyes wander down to the bloodied sheet, and all he says is,

“Boss.”

The Overseer begrudgingly pushes off of the console and finally turns. He catches sight of the spot on your bed as well and frowns.

“Nathaniel had confirmed she wasn’t pregnant, had he not?” he asks his partner. Lucius nods.

“Yes. I’m wary of him for speaking out, but I can’t say he was lying,” he relays.

“Even he could make a mistake,” The Overseer reminds the man. He then brings his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes.

“I figured she’d provide some other form of inconvenience,” he mutters. “Now I need to have this cleaned.”

He drops his hands then, and again opens his grey eyes. They dart in Lucius’ direction.

“Is Nathaniel available?”

You part your lips to ask what’s going on, but notice The Overseer’s eyes look sternly at you next. He knows what you want to say, and he warns you without words not to. Despite your uncertainty, you remain silent.

“He’s out at the moment,” Lucius answers his boss’ question. The Overseer slightly glowers, but then lowers his eyes in thought. His hand comes to his chin, and he holds the thing thoughtfully above his fingers.

“Call Monica,” he eventually orders. “Have her stand by.”

Lucius protests slightly with a shake of his head. “I’m not so sure she’s ready. Are you certain?”

The Overseer drops his hand and looks at Lucius with stern eyes. “It’s my decision. I’ll have the bed cleaned while she’s with the girl. We do need her to contribute a little more now that she’s gotten adjusted anyway. A small task like this will be a good chance to break her in.”

His grey gaze flickers back to your fearful face.

“Besides, this could use a woman’s touch.”

Lucius gives a nod and reaches for the curtain. Before he leaves you to do what he’s been ordered, he flashes you a quiet, knowing smile. Only then does he promptly shut the curtain. You’re left without any clear answers, and you wind up holding your arms and embracing yourself tightly as you try to come to grips with the fact that you’re bleeding. The men are acting like this is normal, if a major inconvenience for them. Are you so stupid that you’re not understanding something?

You hear Lucius attempt to get in contact with someone. You saw no phone connected anywhere in the room, so you’re led to believe that the men do have something more portable. Evidently they’d be allowed to carry something like that as they please, whereas someone like Nathaniel was taking a risk bringing any kind of device here without running it by his superior.

You’re still frazzled by your painful, bloody awakening to really focus too hard on the conversation on the phone, but there’s nothing of note you can catch aside from one thing. Lucius hasn’t called Monica. He’s called Mom.

“Tell her to head to room three for an unscheduled ultrasound,” he instructs the woman. “She’ll have to ferry the equipment, but she should have familiarized herself with the layout of this area so as to not get herself lost.”

He pauses a moment before speaking again, much more firmly. “That’s really none of your business, is it? Send her over. That’s all.”

The conversation goes silent afterwards. You hear the sounds of violent, rapid scribbling that you presume is coming from The Overseer based on its speed.

“What am I going to do with that woman?” His voice calls out in question. Lucius scoffs. You hear the sounds of someone stepping away from you, followed by a cabinet opening. You think Lucius is fishing for something.

“Nothing you haven’t already,” Lucius’ voice rings out. “Don’t tell me you’re tired?”

“Vexed. It’s unfortunate I need such stubborn women,” The Overseer remarks, continuing his quick scribbling. “Do see to it that Monica’s on her best behavior too.”

“Yes sir.”

The Overseer pauses before continuing.

“And you, Lucius. I know how you are sometimes.”

“Yes sir.”

Again, you’re stepped toward by Lucius, who promptly opens the curtain once he’s reached you. He looks on at you still with a calm smile. In his hand is a cuff.

“Hands behind your back, princess,” he commands you. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

“W-What’s happening?” You quietly ask, trying to avoid letting The Overseer hear you. This attempt fails, but the man does turn his head again to look at you sternly. Lucius takes no offense to you, and merely answers,

“We need to be sure of something. Don’t get fussy. Just do what we say.”

“If she’s giving you trouble, I’ll have no issues correcting her behavior,” The Overseer calls out sternly and loudly from across the room. He glowers. “I won’t tolerate that disrespect.”

“No sir,” Lucius answers his superior calmly. “She’s just fine.”

You tremble as Lucius again repeats his order to you, but do follow his instruction and place your hands behind your back. Lucius raises your chains enough for him to properly cuff your wrists. You watch as he unveils a key on a necklace from beneath his shirt, one that had been well hidden and tucked under the fabric very carefully. It’s this that he uses to unlock your chains. But even without them, you remain restricted, and there’s no inkling of relief to be had.

After hiding the key in his shirt again, Lucius forces you to stand. Being on your feet again after nothing but staying in bed leaves you a bit wobbly, but you’re able to support yourself enough to stand straight. Walking, however, is a bit of a chore for you. Your legs feel weak, but you’re luckily not falling over yourself trying to step forward.

Your temporary guardian ushers you forward, though strangely not toward the room entrance. Instead, he brings you to the other door near the corner between the desk and console.

“I’ll have one of the nurses come,” The Overseer relays to his associate as Lucius and you pass him by. “Just in case.”

When the door opens, you’re met with the light of a bathroom. It’s nowhere near as bright as the other lights in the facility, but it is certainly a bit brighter than the room you’ve been shut in. Even a tinge yellower than the cool white.

This bathroom is nothing like the restroom in the rec room or the one in your room, but rather well kempt and sizeable. Although the metallic and hard white surfaces of most things in this facility are droll, this does look as lavish as it can be for what it is. Plain, but complete with more than just a toilet and sink. There’s even a white tub and a showerhead in the room. You never expected to see a genuine tub. But, if it’s The Overseer’s, you figure he wants something a little less plain.

The room looks far newer than The Overseer’s, so you figure it must have been added or refurbished fully, like most things here.

You hear the boss’ voice ringing out from behind the door after it shuts, and you presume he’s fetching a Nurse to help Lucius ferry you to Monica. You aren’t sure why he needs to, but maybe he doesn’t think this task is much worth too much of Lucius’ effort. Bitterly, you suppose he’d rather have a slave of his do most of the basic work.

“We should get you cleaned off a bit before you see Monica,” Lucius’ voice rings out. He turns the shower on and motions toward the tub. “Come on.”

You instinctively look down. There’s only a bit of blood straining the area between your thighs, though the uncomfortable wetness between your legs remains.

“I could do it myself,” you remark with embarrassment. Lucius refuses.

“I don’t exactly trust you after that stupid move you made your first day here,” he says with a frown. “It’s no privilege for me, but it’s what I have to do now that he’s decided you’re to stay here. Shall I tell him you’re being difficult? I didn’t have to be so considerate.”

You look away and say nothing. Beaten, you submit to his word and stand in the tub. The endeavor of his cleaning your lower body is uncomfortable, to say the least. At worst, it’s demeaning. He touches you with his fingers so thoroughly, and you keep wanting to shut your legs closed all the while. You refuse to look at the man as he cleans you, and instead focus on dealing with the pain in your abdomen. It refuses to let up. Even when it does, it’s only for a moment before another wave of uncomfortable stinging washes over you again. Nonetheless, you remain obedient and docile, if only to get the ordeal of being cleaned over with faster. It eventually does end, and you feel only a little less like shit.

“You should be fine until we get there,” Lucius tells you once the water’s been shut off.

You glower. “Am I going to be naked the whole time?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Of course it is, but you can’t really fight it too much. You’re in no position.

Lucius pats you dry with a towel plucked from the cabinet under the pearly white porcelain sink.

“Monica’s going to know that I’m here,” you remind the man. “Won’t that be a problem?”

“It can’t be helped,” Lucius answers you plainly. He has you step out of the tub after laying the towel on the floor, then wipes your feet dry. “She’s still fresh enough to be obedient. I doubt she’ll be chatty if we’re firm with her. She seems eager to get on my superior’s good graces.”

“Lucius,” The Overseer’s muffled voice calls loudly from behind the door. The man before you promptly throws the towel into a nearby hamper lined with white cloth and guides you out of the bathroom. When you’re out and your eyes adjust to the dimness once more, you notice a Nurse standing by the now-open entrance door of the room.

“I’ll be off,” Lucius says his goodbyes to his boss before ushering you out of the room. You’re forced back into the hall, but you have little time to examine your surroundings before Lucius ushers you forward. The dark-haired man keeps a firm grip on your arm as he walks you forward, whereas the Nurse lingers quietly behind the both of you.

You’re shocked to find that the hall is no more different than others you’ve seen, if only with different twists and turns. There are a few double-doored and single-doored rooms you pass, but you’re walked by so quickly that you can’t really read any of the labelling above them. There’s nothing significant you can catch sight of on your way to Monica, other than you taking a few corner turns now and again. This place is like some kind of a maze. You wonder if there are any of the double-doors in sight that happen to be the one leading to your own hall. You can’t tell. Everything’s white, grey, dim. It’s all the same.

Being naked here is uncomfortable as hell. You wish you could cover yourself up, but all you can do is remain with your hands bound behind you. Desperately, you hope nobody shows up to see you like this. Or rather, nobody else but the woman you’re going to visit.

After a while of walking, you eventually turn your head to get a better glimpse of the nurse behind you, and wind up asking Lucius,

“Does she know the other nurse is dead?”

“Yes,” the man answers without issue. “The workers are fairly close, proximally speaking. They share quarters, so they see each other every day.”

“Do they…feel remorseful? Sad?”

Lucius flickers his eyes towards you and raises a brow.

“Remorseful?” He almost laughs in amusement. “They’re workers. Their feelings hardly matter. They know how things are, and they are under strict control. Even if they did feel bad, I don’t see how it affects their duties here. They have only but to focus on their orders.”

He pauses and turns himself slightly to look at the Nurse behind him.

“N4,” he calls suddenly. You wonder how it is he’s able to tell which Nurse it is when they all look so similar. “Do you feel bad about your fellow nurse’s death?”

The woman standing there calmly only tilts her head a bit up to look at the man before her, but otherwise does not move a muscle or respond in any other way.

“Are you afraid of death yourself?” Lucius persists in pecking at the woman. She does not respond. Lucius merely smiles.

“N4, put your hands behind your head.”

The Nurse does as ordered without hesitation. Lucius watches her a moment before letting your arm go and fiercefully punching the Nurse in the stomach. She makes no noise, but keels over a bit and kneels down on one knee while holding her stomach tightly. Her gloved fingers grip the cloth over her stomach furiously, while the fingers on her other hand steady her kneeled body by pressing against the floor.

“Stop!” You beg, horrified and wide-eyed at the sight. Lucius ignores you.

“N4, stand,” he sharply orders. The Nurse lingers on her knee a moment, but forces herself to push her body up and stand straight as told. You can do no more than watch as the woman stands before Lucius without a single response to anything that’s happened beyond her initial painful one. She even drops her hands to her side. However, you can see her trembling just lightly.

“You don’t have to take this!” You cry out to her. “Please, don’t do this to yourself! I know you’re struggling! I can see-”

Lucius raises his hand to strike you, causing you to stop and flinch. However, the Nurse reaches over to grab Lucius’ sleeve and shakes her head. Before he can really react to it, you hear an intercom above you somewhere go off.

“Lucius, what did I say? Focus on the task at hand.” The Overseer’s voice rings out. You’re not that surprised to find that The Overseer has cameras in the halls and can communicate with others, though you are taken aback by the sudden intrusion in this tense moment.

Lucius lowers his hand and calmly sighs. “Right.”

He wastes no time after this, and again forcefully grabs you by the upper arm and starts dragging you forward.

“Let’s go.”

The Nurse follows the both of you, as if nothing at all happened. You wonder why she bothered trying to stop Lucius. Granted, some of the workers you’ve encountered have been generally kind. The first one you met was gentle with you, and then there was the one who had helped Lucius ferry you to The Overseer. Though one of those men was fairly brutish toward you, the other seemed to try being reassuring to you in your fearful state.

And Charlie…

You again wonder how he’s doing and whether he’s noticed you’re gone. Even if he does care, it’s not like your disappearance would be shocking to him. He likely has had to see others disappear before. If he was the replacement Six mentioned in her journal, then this is the case. He’d have known all the previous Numbers after Seven. Maybe he even knows about the other Ten, though you doubt you could ever ask him about it.

Eventually, you reach a set of double doors labelled “022 EXAM 3”. There’s a pad by the entrance, but the room’s not locked. When the doors separate, you’re temporarily blinded by the brightness spilling into the hall. After your eyes eventually adjust upon a light squint, you’re strangely taken aback to see Monica despite knowing you were coming to. Maybe it’s a familiar face that you want to cling to. Either way, it’s jarring seeing her curvier frame in your sights again.

In turn, she’s quite surprised to see you too. Her brown eyes widen behind her round glasses when she turns around from the opposite side of the room by a back countertop with a sink in the middle of it. She’s pulling down the end of a latex glove against her wrist, the sleeves of a lab coat that she’s donning rolled just below her wrists.

This room isn’t much different from the one you’d been in when you awoke after your shot, though it’s jarring to see it from a different perspective. Moreover, the chair in the middle, which you find is actually embedded in the floor, is surrounded by a different machine now than it was before. You aren’t sure if it’s been moved into this room, or if this is a different room than you were in prior. It certainly doesn’t seem to be the latter based on the special familiarity.

“I’ve brought you an assistant,” Lucius tells the shocked woman. The nurse behind the both of you promptly moves forward, stepping toward Monica and standing at bay for her instruction. “She’ll be here if you need her.”

Monica remains perplexed. She eyes you a moment before turning her attention to Lucius.

“I thought this was going to be for a worker or some other patient,” she notes with confusion. “What’s going on here?”

“No questions,” Lucius says firmly. “She had an unexpected bout of bleeding, so the boss wants her to be looked over just in case. If things turn out alright, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, but-“

“Doctor Santos, this is your first real chance to do something other than file paperwork,” Lucius cuts the woman off. “Please do your job well. The boss wants you to carry out your task and say nothing of it. Anything you do, hear, or say in this room stays in this room. Understood? Nobody is to know of it.”

Monica pauses a moment to reflect to herself, but eventually nods and subtly smiles.

“Yes,” she says obediently. “I’ll do my best. But…can I ask a favor?”

“You’re in no position,” the man rejects her. He then glances over at you with his dark eyes a moment before adding,

“However, I’ll be courteous and at least hear you out since you’re new.”

Monica’s smile brightens, becomes much warmer. “Could I maybe have you wait outside? I’d prefer to have privacy between us women.”

Lucius scoffs, almost laughing. “That’s a joke, isn’t it?”

“No,” Monica remains firm, yet still smiling. “You can listen in as hard as you like if you don’t trust me, but it might be easier if-“

“Fine, then,” Lucius doesn’t bother to argue. Evidently he’s in no mood to deal with any protesting. “Unbind her if you like as well. But I’ll be locking you in until you’re done. Of course you’ll yell if she’s being troublesome, won’t you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Monica expresses her gratitude with a subtle head bow. Lucius merely looks back between you and Monica before turning and walking off, leaving you in the room with the new doctor and the Nurse. You hear the doors click, indicating that the man’s locked you in as said.

Once you’re alone with Monica, you hesitantly turn to face her and look on at her with worry. You aren’t sure what to expect from her. She’s smiling kindly at you, not coldly the way Lucius does. You can’t quite tell if she’s being genuine in her sweetness or if it’s some kind of ruse. She’s good at making it look real, you’ll say that much.

“Ten, are you doing alright?” She asks, examining your face. “You look…unwell.”

“I feel it,” you say quietly. Monica seems a bit troubled by your sullen reaction, but she tries to remain chipper. She conjoins her hands and walks toward you.

“Well, what’s the problem right now?” She asks gently. “I was surprised to be summoned so suddenly.”

You remain wary of the woman, though she gestures to you while looking at the Nurse. The worker seems to understand this gesture, as she walks up behind you and undoes your cuff. Finally free, you hold one of your wrists and rub at the skin there. It’s odd not to feel confined after having been so for however long you have.

You don’t much say anything in response to Monica yet, a bit embarrassed to tell her and simultaneously worried she might try something. Why else would she have asked to be alone with you? This is an opportunity she could easily take.

Monica frowns slightly, though not necessarily in displeasure. Rather, she remains worried.

“Ten, I won’t do anything to you,” she promises, as if reading your mind. “I’m your doctor right now. It’s my job to help you in this moment.”

Do you trust that? Not really. Many doctors have promised things like that to you before, only for it not to be the case. Still, you are fairly concerned by the bleeding. You’d like to understand what it is too. You don’t really feel any pain beyond the pain in your lower abdomen.

When you again don’t speak, Monica gives a careless sigh, though she does smile again for you so as to keep the atmosphere light. She moves back to the chair, somewhere behind it, and rips out a bit of paper from somewhere on the bottom that you didn’t even realize was holding anything. She places the paper onto the chair as a cover for its seat and motions you to it.

“Well, have a seat, alright?” She encourages you. “We’ll have a look at you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” You ask. Monica laughs sweetly and tilts the back of the chair just slightly further down.

“That’s what we’re here to find out!”

As you quietly take your seat, Monica fiddles with the machine she’s wheeled by the chair. Like the one you remember, it has a screen, though the panel of the machine has a lot of wires and buttons you’re unfamiliar with and can’t make guesses on the function of. As Monica sets the thing up, she asks the Nurse to bring her something. Some kind of jelly, you think is what you hear. You’re not sure what it’s for.

You remain silent as things go on around you. While Monica and the Nurse do whatever it is they are, you start to think of what to say to the woman by you. You want to know what’s changed, but you don’t know whether asking is risky knowing that Lucius is keeping an ear out. But it’s not as if you aren’t eventually going to find out anyway.

You hold your upper arms tightly as you remain uncertain as to what’s going on. The room is so cold, and the frigid air against your skin only makes your abdominal pain more pronounced. You really wish you had clothes. Strangely, Monica hasn’t taken the opportunity to size your body up despite it being so bare. It’s an opportunity anyone else would have taken or made comments on by now. She really is adhering to being, you suppose, “professional” right now.

“Monica?” You eventually call out. The woman does not look up from her work, though she acknowledges you with a light hum as if to signal you to ask what you mean to. “Um…is everyone okay over there?”

This is what causes the woman to turn her head and finally look at you. She smiles.

“They’re just fine,” she assures you with a sweet tone. “I can only imagine how worried you are about the other Numbers. But don’t be! They’re going along as they usually are.”

You go quiet a moment after this. In part, you’re glad the other Numbers are okay, but you do wonder more than anything whether they’ve sensed something’s wrong. However long it’s been, you’re sure they must be wondering by now where you are and why. Cyrus and Lav especially.

And…

“Does Yosuke know I’m gone?”

Monica looks up a moment in thought.

“Hmm, I haven’t really seen him lately,” she mulls it over. “I think he does. Mamita’s the one who’s been talking most with him, though she doesn’t much tell me anything about it. She’s still a little frustrated with me, but she’s slowly accepting that I’m working with her.”

She blinks a moment then looks back at you with a smile. “Do you miss your doctor? I’m sure he misses you.”

“No,” you refute this and scowl slightly. “I just wonder what he’s been up to now that he isn’t lording over me so much.”

“It seems someone else is instead,” the lively doctor by you remarks curiously, likely referring to The Overseer and Lucius. You really wish she hadn’t reminded you. This brief respite from the men isn’t exactly great given that it’s only temporary and was granted for an uncomfortable reason, but it’s better than nothing.

Looking down between your legs, you don’t see much blood, but you know it’s there. The wetness from before is again prominent. You figure it’s a good thing Monica covered the chair, then.

“You’re bleeding, right?” she asks, again as if reading your mind. You’re not sure whether she was informed, or if it’s obvious to her since you don’t really see the blood anywhere right now. Still, you nod, all the while watching the woman take a wired gun-like contraption with a flat head from the machine by you.

“Any pain?”

“Yes. It feels like a lot of pressure and stinging,” you admit, trying to take your mind off of the discomforting atmosphere of the room and your uncertainty as to what’s going on. You feel like this is some kind of sick dream. “I woke up to that pain pretty suddenly.”

The Nurse, meanwhile, returns with a tube of something that she opens. She squeezes a bit of its contents in her gloved fingers, then proceeds to carefully place the bulky pile of gel on your lower abdomen, only lightly and barely spreading it . Your eyes widen at the sight and feeling of her touch there, but you don’t flinch.

“What’s this for?” You question worriedly. Monica sweetly laughs.

“Relax, it’s nothing to worry about,” She tells you, remaining ever kind. “We’re just going to be looking inside you to check for something. The gel is to prevent any friction from this device.”

“Check? For what?”

Monica’s eyes roll around a bit as she ponders how best to answer you.

“Well, this is a quick procedure that we use for a variety of things,” she says. “To see your organs and check for any problems. But we typically use this more for pregnancies.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“I know it’s a bit strange to hear,” Monica tries to be reassuring. “But it might be nothing. I think my boss was just concerned that you might have gotten pregnant and…now aren’t?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” you shoot back, your heart beating quickly as your uncertainty rises. Again, Monica tries to be reassuring.

“Ten, sometimes girls who are pregnant don’t always have the entire pregnancy all the way through. There are instances where they lose their baby, especially toward the beginning stages. It just happens. But when it does, things like abdominal pain and spotting are common.”

She sighs while turning on the machine’s monitor. “I really don’t think that’s the case, but I ought to have a look just to be sure.”

“W-what’ll happen to me if that is the case?!” You question urgently as the Nurse finishes coating you with the gel. She backs off then and leaves to put the tube of it away and clean herself off. “Am I…”

“If your pregnancy ended early, then you’re just fine,” Monica again tries to assure you when you trail off. “At that point, we’d have to take time to make sure that nothing’s left in you. But it isn’t a super troublesome process. It’s just a lot of extra steps. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She turns the machine on, and on the right side of the screen are an array of numbers and other data you don’t understand. Monica then presses the flat end of the device in her hands against your lower abdomen, along the gel smeared thickly on your flesh. The screen shows an unusual grey, black, and white grain image of something you can’t really make out, but suppose are your insides.

“Is that something that happens? Normally?” You ask worriedly. Monica shrugs a bit.

“In the real world, it’s quite common, and very unfortunate,” she says, almost solemnly. “Some women really do want to have children, and so to lose one so suddenly…”

She frowns thinking on it. “I’ve seen it happen in others. It’s always disheartening. But as far as the facility goes, I don’t think there’s been any cases like it. None that I really know of. But there’s a lot I don’t know and a lot I do know because of what I’m expected to do.”

Monica stands close by your side while examining the screen and running the device in your hand slowly along your belly. She seems intensely focused on this task, rather than lively as usual. The Nurse, meanwhile, returns to the other side of you and stands at bay.

You remain uneasy during this procedure, flickering your eyes restlessly between the screen and the doctor before it.

“But I’ll be okay?” You ask her. Monica nods, though her gaze does not falter from the screen.

“Yes, of course,” she assures you. “And from what I’m seeing, you’re completely fine. No pregnancy, no termination, nothing. Not a spot out of place. If I saw anything, I’d probably have to take the time to be more thorough with the images and examine copies of them. But right now, you seem fine, like I figured.”

You breathe a light sigh of relief, though remain cautious. Quietly, you peer down at your thighs and press them uncomfortably together, feeling the gross wetness between your legs as you do.

“Then why am I bleeding?”

Monica seems puzzled by this. She removes the device from you, causing the image on screen to be lost.

“That first procedure you had must have been far too effective. You really don’t know a lot, do you? A girl your age would know about this issue by now.”

You glower slightly at this, perceiving it as an insult. “It’s not my fault I don’t know things that should be common knowledge.”

“I know it isn’t,” Monica says in the same assuring tone as she uses a thick paper cloth kept in her pocket to wipe the device off before putting it back on the machine. She hands you another cloth that she pulls out and allows you to wipe the gel residue off of your skin. “Things like this are never really the patients’ fault. I understand where you’re coming from.”

As Monica collects your trash, you return to clutching your arms tightly. Monica then frowns.

“You aren’t really going to like what I have to say, though.”

You look over at the woman and grip your upper arms even tighter. “…Why?”

“Well, it’s natural.” Monica attempts to ease you into her point. “I don’t suppose the specifics of it are important to know in your case, but many biological females bleed regularly. Normally, it’s once a month for around three to eight days. The reason they do has much to do with their reproductive organs. If a woman isn’t going through a pregnancy, then she’ll eventually menstruate, which is what we call the process wherein your uterine lining is shed because there was no such pregnancy that occurred which your body had prepared itself for by creating that lining. Usually you’ll notice changes in your body before it happens. In your mood, your appetite, your physiological responses, and bodily processes. Have you noticed these things as of late?”

You look away. “I can’t really tell. I’ve been an emotional wreck in this place for a while. Stressed, tired, the works. So I don’t really know. I did get really mad recently without getting why, but I figured I was just really stressed out.”

“No doubt you are,” Monica notes with a light puffing of her cheek. “I have no idea what they’re doing with you or why. Either way, this is a lot to go over. It’s something we have to keep track of if it happens. You don’t, since you’re not really capable of taking care of yourself in a place like this. Most women usually keep track of their cycles themselves for a lot of reasons—to find out when it’s best for them to try getting pregnant, to track when they’re going to feel a certain way, to know ahead of time when to expect the whole process. But the point is that your bleeding is normal. To an extent, anyway.”

“Huh?” You remain confused. “To what extent?”

Monica bites her painted lip a bit, somehow managing not to smear the lipstick. “Well, the procedure you all get for your memory, I’ve been told, has a huge impact on your bodies. Infertility is fairly common because of the chemical makeup of the drug my boss uses. Particularly so in women. But the thing is, menstruation is apparently also impacted. Either the girls stop being able to menstruate at all, or there’s a rather lengthy delay between cycles, much more than normal. This delay sometimes happens in the real world for a variety of reasons, but down here it’s because of the drug itself. The issue with that is…”

She trails off and looks down. “Well, Ten, that means you can still get pregnant. Sorry to say.”

Your lips part, and you feel your throat close up as you’re stricken with the horrible news. Although you were leaning back in the chair, you sit up more now. Despite wanting to speak, you suddenly feel winded and lightheaded. Quietly, you bring your hand over your mouth and cover it tightly as you try to accept what Monica’s said.

“I’m very sorry, Ten,” Monica tries to be sympathetic. You’re too frazzled to try guessing whether she genuinely cares or not. If you have any visits after all this is over, then you’re going to risk getting pregnant. What if one of the men you know is responsible? What will Yosuke think?

What if he finds out that you’re still fertile?

God no, you don’t want to imagine the torture he’d put you through in his obsession with making you his. You wouldn’t be able to handle the consequences of his actions. The idea of suddenly losing everyone because of his carelessness, and of being forced into a different kind of misery you don’t want all because of him is horrendous.

Monica’s eyebrows upturn slightly as she watches you’re disturbed reaction. “Apparently this was something we learned a while ago. Another girl got pregnant despite the certainty that she was infertile. Her doctor refused to mention she was bleeding at all and tried to cover it up. She’d already been checked beforehand, so nobody had really suspected it was going to happen.

“I was told it was all quite unexpected. But since infertility is so common, it was a pretty special case, and probably one of the first times we saw this pattern in a patient. Any other pregnancies we had before, we just presumed came from the drug not causing the infertility we expected. I’d read that those pregnancies happened rather quickly, so it was presumed that the drug merely didn’t have an effect. But it was always one or the other—either fertile or not. We didn’t start seeing the delayed menstruation in other patients until after her case, and even then only scarcely. Of course, this is all information I’ve had to catch up on since I’m supposed to deal with this kind of thing. But I don’t know everything.”

She’s talking about Jade. What strikes you most is Monica saying her doctor tried to cover it up at all. Why would he? And, moreover, who was he? Lately, you’ve been hearing more about Jade, and you really don’t like the things you’ve been told. Even in your curiosity of what happened to her, you‘re largely disturbed by the more you learn. You start to wonder whether you’ll end up the same way as she did. The Overseer had suggested as much.

You glance toward the door, expecting Lucius to burst in and stop Monica from speaking. But it seems he’s largely okay with what’s being said, otherwise he’d have put a stop to this by now. The Overseer as well, if he happens to be monitoring the room. Both men allowing you to know about Jade is equally as concerning as what you’re hearing of her and her doctor. Even if who the both of them were is unimportant to The Overseer, you can’t imagine he’d want you to know a lot about her case. He was vague when he spoke of her before. He refused to be open about it.

“There is a bit of hope, though,” Monica tries to give you some kind of reassurance. Your attention turns to her quite immediately. “Because the process is so slowed and delayed, there’s always a chance that the fertilization won’t occur so easily. If anything, you’d have to try quite a lot to get pregnant. In this case, your chances of actually getting pregnant have been significantly lowered. It just doesn’t mean that they’re zero.”

You’re sure that the others aren’t at risk if they’ve been here so much longer. If any of them had ever bled, they likely would have clued you in on it knowing that you could have done the same. You wonder if they’re aware of this bodily function or not. It’s horrible to you. Granted, the bleeding and pain you can handle. But it’s the implication that you struggle to accept, especially with how dire things are down here.

Maybe in the real world there are ways you can prevent this, or reasons not to be so afraid of possibly getting pregnant. At least out there you’d have a choice. Here, it’s all chance. But being used is mandatory. Even if your chances of getting pregnant are indeed low, with how much the doctors see you, there’s no way you won’t end up the same way as Jade or Sienna. Monica said you’d have to try to get pregnant, but it’s not like you can’t stop what happens to your body. You’ll have plenty of chances. Every single visit could be the one that causes your fate to be sealed.

Seeing that you’re still in your shocked state, Monica frowns.

“Ten, it’s no different than before,” she says. “Your chances were still the same. You worried about the possibility then as you are now, right? The only thing that’s changed is a confirmation of your state. I can’t really say much to make you feel better, but know it’s always difficult to see this.”

You finally drop your hand and look on at the woman beside you while giving a light shake of your head.

“I know you’re right, but it still stings,” you tell her with a bit of a shaky voice. “I’m scared.”

“I know. It’ll be alright,” Monica remains firm in her attempt to be kind to you and places a hand on your bare shoulder. You can’t say you really trust the woman, but you’re glad she isn’t being horrid to you as a doctor. Though, this probably implies she’ll be just like you expect as a visitor if you ever do have to see her that way.

“In any case,” she attempts to change the subject and remains ever chipper despite the difficult news. “We ought to focus on what’s going on right now. There’s nothing you can do about the bigger picture. But as far as your bleeding goes, I can give you something to keep it from getting everywhere. And your pain can be quelled with medicine.”

The Nurse, you notice, walks off in the middle of Monica telling you this. You wonder if she’s okay after being hit so hard by Lucius. There’s no way she’s not bothered. But right now, she’s acting like a busybody, just going about her way and doing what she has to.

“I’ll have to recommend they let you at least wear your underwear for a few days,” Monica goes on, wagging her finger in a nagging manner. “I’ll give you sanitary pads for your bleeding, and you’ll have to take regular bathroom breaks to change them out. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing with you or why they’re leaving you naked, but they should at least be considerate of this. Especially if they don’t want you messing up whatever you’re sleeping on.”

“Your boss just thinks I’m an inconvenience,” you say solemnly, trying to take your mind off of the other news for the moment. Monica’s upbeat nature is probably the only thing helping to distract you, even though everything she’s saying is awful. “He acts as if he hates me. I can’t imagine he’d be so courteous as to let me do what I need.”

“I’m guessing he’s not the one who has to take care of you anyway,” Monica shrugs. “Doctor Marcellus seems like he’s the one doing most of the work with you. But from what I’ve known, he’s always been more patient than his partner. Either way, they have to at least do the bare minimum if they want you alive. You’d probably already be dead if they didn’t.”

“They’re not afraid of making threats,” you comment, then raise a brow. “But you make it sound like you’ve been here long enough to know them.”

Monica laughs. “I had to meet with them before. I didn’t just sporadically show up and have a job here.”

“It feels that way from my perspective.”

“You don’t really get to see the bigger picture.” Monica shrugs this off. She then removes her gloves, figuring they’re not needed anymore now that your quick checkup is done. She discards them and the papers she used to clean you and the machine’s flatheaded device in a nearby bin, then returns to you. “Anyway, we don’t usually have cases like this, but we always stock what we need just in case. I’ll have Doctor Marcellus bring some pads with him. The Nurse can probably-“

She’s then taken aback by the Nurse returning, this time standing close to Monica. She has a box in her hands and offers it to the doctor without question, bowing her head a bit to indicate her intention.

“Oh!” Monica makes a curious noise when she’s presented with the thing. She smiles at the Nurse. “You already knew what I wanted. Thank you!”

She takes the box and hands it to you.

“Here, these are what you’ll need. It’ll be a little embarrassing to deal with what you are, but trust me, it’s standard. You know how to use them, right?”

“I can probably figure it out,” you answer, looking at the small cardboard thing. It has no label and is colored grey. When you pop open the top, there’s an array of thin cotton pads inside. You don’t really like having to deal with this. Granted, the doctors here are qualified to deal with any of your bodily issues. For as little as you like them, your life and your health are really in their hands. All you can do is trust them in that much. Nothing else.

Again, the Nurse departs.

“Are you alright, Ten?” Monica questions. You hear the sink behind you turn on shortly after this, but you can’t really tell what the Nurse is up to behind you. “Or rather, will you be?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t want to be here. I just want to go back to my own bed and to my friends.”

“I’m sure you do,” the woman by your side frowns as she says this. “Like I said, I am sorry. But we can’t much do anything about it. Let’s just focus on the now, okay? You’ll overwhelm yourself if you don’t.”

Before you can answer, both of you are suddenly taken aback by the nurse showing up again. Rather than approach Monica, she goes to the other side of your chair and hands you a pill and a clear cup of water.

“You seem to be on top of things, huh?” Monica giggles. “Thank you. I was about to get to giving her medicine for the pain.”

The nurse nods as if to acknowledge this remark. This worker acting on her own strikes you as immensely odd. Granted, someone like Charlie still has enough sentience to be human and act humanely toward you and others, whereas people like the brutish worker that roughly handled you either don’t, or just don’t care anymore. However, the workers all seem to follow their instructions fairly closely and are especially obedient to Lucius and his boss. It’s strange to you that the nurse is acting so openly when one of the men who commands her is so close by. Even Charlie was cautious, and neither of the men who command him were even around to scare him into being so.

“I thought the workers only listened to the boss and his lackey,” you remark, watching the nurse curiously as you take the pill and water from her. “She’s weirdly attentive to you.”

“I guess so!” Monica chirps livelily as you swallow the pill. “But that’s all the more convenient for me.”

You look down mindlessly at your legs in thought. “A lot of things have been a bit weird. What you said earlier, for instance.”

Monica tilts her head just slightly. “Oh? What did I say?”

“About you having done this sort of thing. You said, ‘It’s always difficult’. What did you mean by it? I thought you were new here and that this wasn’t a regular thing you dealt with here? Aren’t I your first real patient, then?”

“Yes,” Monica answers with a casual wave of her hand. “But I did work before all this too. I am a little older, you know. Not horrendously old, but I’ve been around. I’ve seen plenty of girls before, struggling like this with periods and pregnancies and all their complications. It’s not always easy. But it is what it is. The best you can do is be kind and patient for the distressed.”

“So do you do what Nathaniel does?” You question. “You look at women’s bodies?”

Monica smiles. “Yes. He’s able to deal with exams and pregnancies as I am, but now I’m here to help out with that work.”

You shake your head. Something doesn’t add up. “Why would they even bring you in if he’s able to handle all of this himself?”

“Excuse me?” Monica seems a bit confused. Her attention shifts directly to you, and she looks on at your face with wide, curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

You pause a moment and think of what Yosuke had told you about Jonathan and Nathaniel. They’re not around every bit of the day. They have more free time, even. So why bring anyone else to do that same job that is already pretty miniscule in the grand scheme of things?

“It probably makes sense to have two people doing the same thing if the job is big,” you explain, relaying your thoughts. “But Nathaniel’s job doesn’t take all that much time, does it?”

Monica looks up in thought, though her gaze is a tinge more focused than usual.

“Hmm,” she hums. “I guess that is true. But I don’t really know. My superior must have a reason for stationing me on this kind of thing. In any case, I’m helping Mamita too, so it’s not like what I’m doing now for you is all I do. Paperwork is pretty hard to manage all by oneself.”

You frown and look to the side as you ponder this. This is bizarre. Something feels off, but you can’t really place it.

“I feel like Mom was just put there because of how she started acting,” you mull it over. “Doesn’t she do anything else here? Or did she ever?”

You try not to let it be known that you have been told about the doctors, but you want to make sense of this. Monica’s emergence has always been odd. She didn’t know how to answer you about whether she’s been here before, her face was familiar to Two, and now she seems unusually familiar with things that you wouldn’t imagine a new person would be. Are you just overthinking it?

You suspected from the beginning that she was more than she seemed. Either she’s being sneaky and lying to you with a façade of cluelessness, or she genuinely has no idea what’s going on. You wonder whether she’s been afflicted by this place like you. Is she miserable? Is she being held hostage and smiling through it all? Or is she scheming? Maybe she’s really as bad as Mom. It scares you not to know her true intentions. You can’t imagine she’s genuinely just nice. None of your friends really even seemed to have a problem with her when she first came.

“Ten, you forget that Mamita doesn’t much tell me a thing,” Monica laughs. “I still know very little. I don’t know her much beyond what she shows me. And what I do know, I know only because I ought to.”

You glance over at the nurse, though she’s now standing with one hand over the other in front of her thighs, awaiting a reason to do more. You wonder if she’s okay or how she’s feeling. More than anything, you wonder what it is she’s thinking. What goes through the workers’ heads?

A silence washes over the room when you don’t respond. You aren’t really sure what else to say. However, you do eventually ask,

“Could you do me a favor?”

Monica smiles. “Sure. What is it?”

Your eyes avoid the woman’s gaze, and your grip on the box in your lap tightens.

“I don’t really know how things will go after all this,” you say. “But if I come back, I don’t want Yosuke to know what you’ve told me. Could you please not tell him?”

“Why?”

You glower. “I just don’t want him knowing. I’m afraid of what he might do, if it turns out he’s still obsessed with me even after I’ve been gone.”

“I’m sure he’ll still care. It’s not like doctors are always detached from their patients,” Monica mentions. “But yes, I’ll do it. I want you to trust me, Ten.”

She beams, “Okay?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t right now.”

“I’ll still do as you requested,” Monica assures you, her smile unwavering. “Now you should probably be getting back to wherever you were. Not in a fun place, I’d imagine!”

“No, not at all.”

Monica sighs, but tries to remain upbeat. She conjoins her hands and looks over at the nurse.

“N4, could you please pull out a spare set of underwear for her?”

The nurse gives another light bow and does as asked.

“We have a few spare articles of clothes here just in case we need them,” Monica mentions, turning her attention back to you. “They’re meant to fit most anyone, so even if it isn’t exactly your size, it should do for now. I’m sure if I asked for your own clothes, Doctor Marcellus wouldn’t say yes.”

“Why are you going out of your way for me like this?” You question the woman warily. “Why bother?”

Monica laughs a bit. “It’s not just for you, Ten. I told you, I want to be kind to my patients, regardless of how I have to be in any other situation. I suppose you’re like children here. Mamita’s not the only one who really sees it that way, though her perception of and handling of you is a little different than mine.”

“I guess between the two of you I’d rather have this,” you remark with a subtle, weary shrug. “But don’t take it the wrong way when I say I’m still wary of you.”

“Because of me or because of what you think has to do with me?”

“Both.”

Monica looks down and thinks to herself a moment, but is then distracted when the nurse returns with spare underwear. You’re instructed by Monica then to dress yourself with the flimsy garment. You wind up having to clean yourself off of any excess blood with tissue, and are quite embarrassed to have left some lingering on the sheet laid out on the chair. Still, having something to catch the blood makes you feel less awful about your ordeal. Having to lay in your mess would be even more demeaning than being naked and chained up. Though, it’s going to be awkward as hell dealing with this around the men.

In the midst of clothing your lower half, you look on at the Nurse and ask her if she’s alright after what Lucius did, but the worker does not bother giving you any gesture of an answer. She does, however, look in your direction quite a bit. Not being able to see her face to know what she might be thinking continues to vex you, as it does with most all workers. You don’t like the uncertainty. They don’t seem at all malicious, and in fact you and they should be on the same side. They suffer more than you, undoubtedly. Nonetheless, you’d imagine their sympathetic gestures come for a reason.

You know you shouldn’t think so hard about them. But really, you just want someone to feel close to, knowing you have nobody right now. The workers are probably the closest you have, even if they really don’t acknowledge you regularly.

Lucius eventually enters the room, asking whether or not Monica’s finished now. No doubt he heard ever bit of your conversation with her, though you continue to find it strange that he didn’t apparently think it fit to intervene when you started asking so many questions. He had said he’s more lenient and patient than his superior, but for some reason his emergence has made you jumpier. Of course you have many reasons to be scared of the man who killed an innocent girl before your eyes. Nonetheless, you can’t help but let your heart race upon laying your eyes again on his pale face and dark hair.

“Doctor Marcellus, welcome back!” Monica greets him sweetly. “We’re about done here, yes. She’s fine, and she’s clear. It’s just menstruation, so there’s nothing to worry about for now.”

She takes the box you were given and hands it to the man. “You’ll of course make sure she goes to the restroom regularly, right?”

“Mm, more caretaking work, huh?” Lucius slightly frowns as he looks down at the thing. “Have I been demoted?”

“Well, you’re a doctor. It’s your job to take care of your patients.”

“My qualifications go beyond babysitting,” is Lucius’ annoyed response. He snaps his fingers at the nurse who promptly stands straight. He tosses the box to her and folds his arms. “He’s going to love hearing this. In any case, do bind her arms, Doctor Santos. I need to get going.”

Again, you’re cuffed. You don’t really even have to be told to put your hands behind your back, and instead do so as expected. You don’t feel like making a fuss right now. Your melancholic state has finally settled in now that you’re accustoming yourself to the reality of your body’s state. Monica said it wasn’t much different than before, but a confirmation doesn’t at all make things better.

Once you’re sufficiently bound, Lucius guides you out of the room, leaving Monica to only wave a goodbye. The man guiding you seems genuinely put off by Monica’s comment, though isn’t exactly fussing over having to take care of you otherwise. You’re sure it’s no picnic for him any more than it is for you.

On your way back, the nurse continues to trail slightly behind you and Lucius like before, holding the grey box in her gloved hands. You periodically look up at the ceiling of the hall and all the edges where it meets the walls to see if there’s anything indicating a camera. Like the last time you did this in the recreational hall, you see nothing of note. However, you’re sure that if The Overseer is watching, he’s seeing you do this. He must be scoffing to himself about how pathetic you are.

“I’m a lackey, am I?” Lucius suddenly speaks up, grabbing your attention. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I…” you struggle to really respond. You don’t know what to say, and you’re especially worried by what he might do if you speak out. Instead of poorly attempting to explain yourself, you apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

“An apology? How sad,” the man responds with almost an amused laugh. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not offended. I know what you think of me, and I know what you think of my boss. Neither of us are really bothered by how people perceive us. Both of us put up with a lot of negative gossip from the other doctors who think our methods are harsh. However, remember that we still command respect. If I have to hurt you, I will do so. As will he, without a second thought.”

The reminder is duly noted. You suppose you dropped your guard just slightly around Monica since she wasn’t being inherently awful to you, despite still being a bit wary of her because of her status as a doctor. You very much doubt Lucius is affected by anything you say, but you’d rather not chance pissing him off further. As it is, he’s already fairly annoyed that he has to baby you so much.

You’d normally ask whether you’re so pathetic that you can’t take care of yourself, but it’s not your fault that Lucius has to do what he is. You quite actually can’t take care of yourself right now. There’s nothing you can do, no power that you really have. The Overseer wants you in his sight, and so by consequence, you have to be looked over. Even if it isn’t directly by him.

Lucius has been patient with you as he said, but you’re sure even he has limits. If anything, he seems itching to get out of the room and away from his duty of watching you. Whether it’s because he wants to be by his boss’ side, thinks he has to be, or because he just wants to be out and about, you don’t really know. You wonder what kind of relationship the two men must have if they’re so close in proximity all the time. Lucius is about the only person you’ve seen speak out against The Overseer without consequence. There’s no way they aren’t at least somewhat close.

When you arrive back at the room, the nurse leaves the box in the bathroom and is then dismissed. Lucius brings you back to your bed which is by now spot free, much to your relief. Sleeping in a bloodied bed wouldn’t have been any better than sleeping in chains. As anticipated, the dark-haired man again chains you up, then removes your cuff. The familiar feeling of the thick, cold shackles against your flesh is not at all welcoming, but it’s not as if you can do much about it.

The Overseer looks to be in the middle of typing something with an incredible speed at his computer, with only the main screen displaying anything. Not once does he bother looking up. However, when he hears what news Lucius has to tell him and what Monica recommended for you, he pauses and merely says,

“I see. I’ll allow it for a few days.”

The blond man doesn’t even really bother to look your way. His focus is only on his work. You can’t really make out what’s on the screen other than a large file of words and numbers you can’t quite read, nor do you have the time to.

You’re given another meal for the day, but you can’t tell whether it’s lunch or dinner since it’s another light soup of some kind. The curtain remains open while you eat so that both men can watch you, though they mainly focus on their own things. Lucius stays at the desk reviewing the binder of papers his boss had been working on earlier, whereas The Overseer keeps to his computer.

You look on at the back of the blond man’s head, wondering whether he’ll let you keep your memory of all this. You’re learning more than you probably should. Of course, it’s not as though he wouldn’t have considered this. He did say he weighed the consequences of having you here and accepted the conditions of it.

It occurs to you that he hadn’t bothered to try threatening you with a memory wipe before when he’d told you to be quiet about Jay. Yet, now he’s using it as a genuine threat. Why is that? It’s not a threat you dismiss or take lightly in the least, merely one you find strange. You know he has it in him to do that to you if he really wants. Both now and then, he could have. Perhaps he was just testing the waters with you before.

Once you’ve finished your meal, you’re again left alone. A worker picks up your tray and dishes. You’re allotted a bathroom break after eating, but Lucius doesn’t bother going in with you. This is probably the only respite you have. Unfortunately, it’s not a very long one. You’re expected to move quickly, and when you don’t, Lucius impatiently knocks on the door and calls for you to finish.

When you’re eventually returned to the bed and again chained, you notice Lucius frowning as he sees you looking up at him from your place atop the mattress. He stands before your bed, a hand tightly gripping the curtain by it.

“Only speak if you need something,” he reminds you. “But know that we aren’t here to be at your beck and call. If we decide you’re in no need of assistance, we won’t be giving you any. If you waste our time, you’ll get in trouble.”

He gives little chance for a response. When he finally shuts the curtain, the amount of light you’re exposed to diminishes slightly. Again, you’re left in your confined space, shut away from the men while they work.

You scoot yourself close to the wall and lean against it tiredly while you curl your body up a little, bringing your knees up. You’re glad to have time to yourself again after what happened today, but what you were told doesn’t at all allow you any comfort. It feels like you’ve just been stressed since the first day you woke up at the facility, with only a few respites from it all.

How long has it even been since you got to this place? And how long has it been since The Overseer had you plucked from your doctor and friends? You can’t imagine it’s been more than a day or two, but you can’t really be sure.

You hope Monica makes good on her promise not to mention your impregnable state to Yosuke. You don’t even want to think about the things he’ll try if he finds out. And if you do wind up pregnant by anyone other than him, you’re afraid to think of how he might react. Will he go as far as to hurt anyone and ignore his loyalties to his boss like he had the first time?

Monica had said Yosuke probably does still care about you and probably will even after a long while passes. You aren’t sure how true it is. He’d been so quick to throw Eight away, so quick to throw Mom away, and so you don’t have any reason he wouldn’t throw you away too. But, when you had said so before, implied that he couldn’t handle your stubbornness and would eventually leave you, he seemed genuinely upset. You aren’t sure what to make of him right now. But it hardly matters since you won’t see him for a while.

You aren’t at a point where you can say in any bit of desperation that you miss the man. You miss everything but the doctors and their treatment of you. The last thing you can remember so vividly is the warmth of Lav and Cyrus’ bodies. Warmth is something you want desperately right now. You’d like not to forget that feeling in your miserable state. However, you do wonder whether there will come a time where you’ll even say you miss Yosuke too, despite telling yourself you don’t right now.

Even though you’ve been tossed between waking and sleeping states to a tiresome degree, you eventually do find your head growing numb and your body weary from doing nothing. It’s odd that you’re so tired when you’ve done nothing but sleep and lie still. Maybe it’s the stress, maybe it’s the moroseness. Either way, you don’t much feel like being awake anymore.

You lie back down and roll on your side, again pretending you’re being held to comfort yourself. As you slowly drift off into another bout of sleep, you continue to think on your encounter with Monica today.

It dawns on you suddenly that she had called the nurse by her title, despite never being told what it was.

Chapter 62: Valentine

It’s difficult to really manage the uncomfortable wetness between your legs that persists as you continue bleeding. Tossing and turning leaves you anxious, as you become so increasingly aware of the sensation of letting blood that you worry any movement will cause you to leak onto the bed. Wearing such flimsy underwear doesn’t really make things better even with the pad, but you’re at least glad you have something on.

The length of your time spent bleeding is the only real indication you have as to how many more days pass, if only to some degree. It could be the minimum that Monica mentioned, it could be the maximum. You really don’t know. Either way, the experience is overall uncomfortable. Between the cramping and the bloating, you continue to feel consistent waves of sadness wash over you at random times. and are easily bothered by things that are said of you. The Overseer does not acknowledge you, but when he does, it’s usually in an insulting manner, as if he’s sick of your presence despite insisting you be here. It drives you up the wall.

Even Lucius, for as horrible a man as he is, shows an inkling of twisted “compassion” by not being quite as horrible to you all the time. That’s hardly saying much when he’s still a terrible and conniving person. Even so, he’s less restrictive than his boss while still keeping you under his thumb.

Bathroom breaks are scarce, but it’s relieving when they come. The small bit of time you have to be unchained and uncuffed, able to freely move your arms is like a breath of fresh air. If not for your increasingly miserable mood, you’d feel like dancing in that bathroom just because you had the ability to. It’s the only time you have to yourself, since Lucius typically waits outside the door. But with how weak your body is becoming doing nothing but laying in a bed, you’re worried your legs might snap if you were to try to move them too sporadically.

You’re occasionally given a dose of vitamins by Lucius, but even those don’t do much to aid your low energy or miserable mood. At the very least, you’re glad the men are still keeping up with the routine of maintaining your body with regular injections and not just letting you wholly wither away, which they would probably prefer, were it not intended for you to return to your doctor. The periodic pricks of the needles against your arms and thighs are never comfortable, but the minuscule pain at least gives you something to focus on other than your confinement, if only very briefly.

Lucius and The Overseer swap places now and again to watch you, though it’s largely Lucius who remains in the room most times. You’re starting to get a handle on how they are, if only a little. Their steps are both so distinct, and you can distinguish between each man’s coughing or clearing of their throat or any other little noise they make when they make it. Lucius’ steps are more casual and far calmer; well-paced and even-tempered. The Overseer, however, tends to tread quickly, as if impatient. He is the type, anyway.

The room occasionally fills with the strong smell of cigarette smoke. You’re able to tell when The Overseer is about to light up whenever you hear a distinct kind of cloth shuffling, the sound of heavy glass gliding against the flat pane of the computer console, and the unusually light metal ping noise, from what you can only assume is a lighter, that’s always followed by the flickering spark of a flame. The sound the lighter makes is so light, it almost rings like a bell. It’s a beautiful sound you look forward to hearing.

When The Overseer is alone with you, he’ll usually keep the curtain drawn the whole time, even if he isn’t observing any cameras. He wants nothing to do with you personally. Even worse is that you hesitate to really ask him for the restroom, so you’re often stuck waiting anxiously in your refusal to speak up until he suddenly remembers that you probably need to go.

Lucius, however, has started leaving the curtain open in select moments, typically when he’s at the desk and can see you out of the corner of his eye. He knows you won’t make a peep after everything you’ve been through, so he’s become far more lenient about the curtain. You don’t much like it when he does watch you like this, and always end up turning over toward the wall to avoid facing him.

You wind up sleeping and waking at what you think are inconsistent times, but you have no clue since there’s no real indication of time here other than when you’re given specific kinds of meals. You always think of Charlie when you’re given your food and water. It’s one of the few glimmers of hope you have here.

Whenever you are given a meal, you’re watched carefully while either or both men work. Lucius will always sit by your side while carrying out some kind of paperwork, whereas The Overseer remains away from you, doing his own tasks about the room while keeping a sharp eye on you. With him, mealtimes are the only time the curtain remains open.

Lately, your appetite has diminished. You don’t really want to do anything more than sleep. Unfortunately, sleeping so often has become so tiresome that all you can do is lay there starting at nothing or thinking of nothing. Somehow, even that takes its toll on your body and mind. Even trying to keep yourself occupied with anything at all has become so much of a chore that all you can do is let your mind go numb in certain instances.

Now and again, you are put under by both men. It’s usually Lucius that anesthetizes you, but The Overseer occasionally will do it. You always assume the same position flat on your back, afraid of being handled roughly again, yet also wanting to sleep more to a point that you even look forward to the anesthetic, even if you periodically wake up from it. Every time you start to pass out, you try to think of your family again, in the hopes that you’ll have a pleasant dream of them to compensate for all the miserable nothing you’re faced with here. Especially so, you often pretend Cyrus or Lav are holding you like they have before. Sometimes together, sometimes one or the other.

A part of you is still holding on, but you start to wonder if you’re being chipped away at each and every time you open your eyes and are reminded that you’re still here. You don’t want to let yourself slip away. You aren’t sure what to really do though, nor do you have the strength to do anything other than lay or sit around. Even after you’ve stopped bleeding (thus consequently left entirely naked again) you remain in a melancholic state—unaroused, uninterested, always tired, but not always able to sleep on your own.

Nonetheless, you’re still you. You still can remind yourself not to drown. You don’t think you’re as strong as you were before, but you’re not out yet.

A few times, you try to ask for the restroom, hoping that the trip will allow you to stretch your legs, but you’re denied each time. Once by Lucius, twice by The Overseer. Their reasoning is always the same:

“It’s too soon.”

After trying this a few times, you’re eventually told not to waste their time or else they won’t even let you get up at all.

Periodically when you wake, you’re met with the sounds of keys on the computer being pressed. Sometimes the presses come slowly as if the person there is sifting through cams, or they’re rapid and in succession, indicating the men’s working on files or code or whatever else it is they do. No matter how hard you try to peer past the curtain, all you can ever make out is shadows and light.

There are a few moments where you’re lying on your side, facing the veil between you and the men, where you reach out and try to touch the thing. You can only barely brush against it with your fingers, or at least pinch one of the folds that’s’ pointed toward you. The material of the curtain is almost like plastic, but you aren’t sure if it is. After trying to touch it further in one instance, the bar the curtain is hanging from makes a light metallic clinking noise, arousing the attention of The Overseer who promptly snaps at you to get your hand away.

As you lay on your bed listening to the man tap through cams again, you wonder what must be on them. Undoubtedly The Overseer has cameras in the halls and in the recreational rooms, but what about the exam rooms and all the other kinds of rooms? He apparently had them in whatever room you Numbers were assessed in. You wouldn’t imagine he doesn’t at least have them in other similar rooms too.

Yosuke had said there weren’t any cameras in the bedrooms or exam rooms, and even though you aren’t sure it’s true now, you also can’t say it’s false. You’ve said lots of things in those rooms between doctors that The Overseer doesn’t appear to have addressed. Granted, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know, only that it hasn’t been mentioned.

However, you aren’t totally dismissive of the idea that he at least allows some bit of privacy. He’s a cruel man, but lenient in very specific things if he so chooses. He also doesn’t seem like the kind who’d be willing to watch what goes on in those rooms. No doubt he wasn’t interested in the things you’ve done in the theater. Lucius, however, seems to be indifferent to your activity. He’d implied he could see it, but you aren’t sure how much of it he really did. You suppose it depends on where the cameras are placed.

A few times, you wake up to more of the familiar sounds of camera sifting, but the shadow of the figure you see from behind the curtain doesn’t look like either man tasked with watching you. Not as far as you can tell. However, most times, you only ever notice this when you groggily wake up from your drug-induced slumbers, and you can never really focus on it before passing out again. Not like it much matters when it doesn’t really pertain to you. Maybe you’re just seeing things in the dim light. If it really is another person, you figure they aren’t going to address you anyway.

During one meal, you’re left alone with Lucius. You continue to think on Jade and the fact that you’re capable of getting pregnant like her. Even after what you assume are quite a lot of days passes, you still remain shaken by the knowledge that you’re fertile. There’s a countdown looming above your head at every moment now that you know, one that indicates how long you’ll have before you end up pregnant.

Even if you are going to be okay and are able to return to the others after whatever they do to your body is over, you know you won’t be the same. Will you end up like Sienna, returned to the others but completely different and completely messed up? Or will you just fade away and never return, like Jade? If you’re taken away from the others forever, will you be put elsewhere, or killed?

You glance over at Lucius warily between slow bites of food, imagining him with his pistol to your temple like in your dream. You wonder now whether that dream was a premonition. You’ve had a lot of unusual dreams here, really. Any one of them could mean a lot of things.

Now more than ever, you remember the horrible dream you had of Jade stabbing you in the stomach. The image of her was one you conjured, not one you knew was really her. You’re not sure what the girl really looks like other than what you were told and shown through the doll Cyrus and Three made with you. Still, you start to weirdly associate that dream with her passing on her affliction to you, not unlike the wedding dream and Eight doing the same with Yosuke.

Maybe you were afraid of so much after hearing about Jade the first time that such an image manifested in your dream then. Now, it’s a bit too real. You and she are really similar, if only in situation. Though, you remember Three saying you were like Jade. You really wish she hadn’t now that it’s practically true.

You once more question whether Cyrus’ interest in you came partly from that association. You hope that isn’t the case, but it’s not like it’s not possible. It’s unfortunate he won’t ever really know about Jade. You could never tell him a thing. He deserves to know the truth, certainly. Maybe one day you will tell it to him, but he’s not really ready for that truth right now. He spent so long avoiding it, after all.

“…Lucius?” You call wearily after another moment of quiet contemplation about Jade. The dark-haired man isn’t doing any work this time, apparently taking a break for the moment while he watches you. After having sat back in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, he finally opens an eye and raises a brow.

“Mm? What is it?”

You pause before shifting your eyes away. “Nevermind.”

Maybe it’s a bad idea to start asking more questions about Jade. However, the man beside you frowns and fully looks at you.

“If something’s on your mind, spit it out.”

Will he get angry if you say nevermind again? You aren’t sure. Rather than bother with playing that verbal tug-of-war, you lower your fork and speak up a bit.

“I wanted to know more about Jade,” you say. “After my visit with Monica, it’s been on my mind a lot.”

“Women do love to gossip, don’t they?” Lucius subtly scoffs. “That one is especially chatty about things, as I’m sure you’re aware. She’s like a child at times, despite her intelligence. Anyway, I have no reason to tell you anything more.”

“Fine, then.” You pout before returning to your food in frustration. Lucius merely watches with amusement in his dark eyes as you remain irked. However, he eventually gives a light shrug.

“I suppose you already know more than you should,” he mentions. “Besides, I am quite bored watching you.”

“Then don’t.”

“That’s not really an option,” Lucius remarks with a raise of his brow. “Anyway, what on earth else about the girl do you still wish to know?”

“By now I know plenty about her,” you answer between bites of your dish. You’re not sure what it is, but it’s cold and tastes gamey. Some kind of meat-based dish with cucumber, you think. How strange a combination, yet it’s surprisingly good. If only you were hungry enough to enjoy it thoroughly. “I want to know more about her doctor.”

Lucius scoffs. “Her doctor? He was unimportant, other than for what he did that got him in trouble.”

“I still want to know, if you’re offering.”

The man by your bedside again raises his dark, fractured brow and frowns. “Persistent. Even in your miserable state, you remain so. Fine, then. But I won’t speak any more of it after this. It’s an old subject. You keep prodding at it like a child with a stick. While I’m offering you some clarity, do know that at some point, such a subject gets a little stale.”

“I can’t help wanting to know something you’re tired of hearing about. I have nothing else to do to here other than think about anything at all to distract me from the now,” you remind the man after another forkful of food. “You’ve left me with nothing.”

“Yet you remain clinging to your sense of self. I suppose that’s admirable,” Lucius scoffs. “Even if you are hanging by a thread, by the looks of it.”

Again, you scowl, though you remain with your eyes fixated down on your plate.

“I don’t want to break.”

“That’s not up to you.”

Your fork drops against the plate, making a clattering noise that echoes throughout the room. Lucius smiles.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

You don’t answer. Quietly, you pick up your fork and continue to quietly eat, awaiting the man to explain what you asked. You’re tired of being insulted, but you by now know you can do nothing to quell the pace at which such insults come.

Lucius remains ever entertained by your silence. Even with your subtle reaction, he’s reading you well. He leans back in his chair further and continues to watch you with a smile on his face.

“If you must know, his name was Richard Lafayette. French in lineage, like our dear Nathaniel,” he explains. “He was oddly timid in the beginning, compared to some of the other doctors here. Still quite as easily aroused as they are, but certainly less forward and crude. Kind, even.”

“Kind?” You question. “I didn’t expect that. I figured he was as cruel as anyone else.”

“Through your perspective as a prisoner here, perhaps,” Lucius says with a shrug. “You think ill of Monica despite her sweetness, for instance. You’d have felt the same way about Lafayette. In any case, his role in dealing with our prisoners was minimal, like Nathaniel’s or Jonathan’s. But he was good at what he did. Radiology, mainly. Though, others here have similar experience in his field, so the man was, of all things, merely supplementary.”

“Like Monica…?”

Lucius frowns at your presumption. “Monica is, I suppose, a valued member of our team. We do need her.”

Suppose…?

Lucius seems largely uninterested in her. Perhaps even a bit bothered. You’re not sure his statement is genuine. You still find the woman’s existence in this facility quite fishy, but figure you can’t really prod about it with Lucius. Anything you do learn will have to come directly from Monica herself.

“In any case,” the man by your side attempts to refocus the conversation. “Lafayette served his purpose well, but being given a thing to care for changed him. He wound up attached to Jade. We figured that’s why he tried to hide so much from us. Unfortunately, he failed to and was punished for his transgressions.”

You pause your eating and freeze a moment.

“You mean like…?”

“His case was much like Yosuke’s, yes,” The man confirms for you when you trail off. “Lafayette saw nobody else. He wanted nobody else. And in the end, he did something stupid because of his attachment. That’s precisely why my superior is so bothered by your own doctor’s actions. He already has his hands full with all the doctors who do as they please now and again, against his wishes. Some even toy with his word and only listen closely to it when he has to become aggressive. My boss not only doesn’t want another one to slip from his grasp, but he’s immensely annoyed that another case like Doctor Lafayette’s has popped up.

“My superior largely forgets the variable of human tendency despite his intelligence, though he does work around it when he has to. Even with his own attachments, he can’t quite understand why people get attached, merely that they do. But he doesn’t always predict when it will happen, so it largely annoys him when it does and when it turns out to be a problem for him.

“Vanessa’s attachment to her own Number is one he’s wary of, yet he can’t be rid of the woman. Yosuke, however, took him by surprise. He thought the man was stable enough. Granted, he was of use to my boss, even if only aboveground. Unfortunately, Yosuke seems to have turned out to be much more like Vanessa—unapologetic in his obsession. Even Lafayette kept his hidden. Perhaps the visibility of your doctor’s ‘human tendencies’ makes it easier for us to spot and rectify, but it’s still very annoying to deal with.”

You frown. It upsets you further how much more like Jade you really are despite you having not wanted to be. Is this some kind of cruel joke? Is the universe really so horrible?

“And what makes you think keeping me away from Yosuke is going to change anything, then?” You ask the man beside you. “If he’s that obsessed with me? Won’t he just continue being the way he was once he gets me back?”

Lucius gives a throated chuckle in amusement at this question. “We’ve taken away his toy. It’s something you do to a child when it misbehaves. We’re showing Yosuke that if he wants to keep you by his side, he had better not act out of line again, lest we do even more to you. Worse, perhaps. This, of course, largely depends on whether or not you’re returned to him at all. Though I think you’re doing a much better job at being obedient now than you were when you first arrived, if with some minor exceptions. Perhaps my boss will indulge the idea of letting you keep your memory and your life.”

“I don’t do it because I want to.”

“I’d say ‘of course not’, but that’s the thing about obedience,” Lucius retorts with a sly smirk. “Obedient is not something you are because you want to be. It’s because you ought to be. Fear tactics are commonplace. Perhaps obedience can be bred in an individual through kindness and trust, but both I and my superior find such a tactic far less effective. You obey those you fear more. With those you come to love and trust, you can still say ‘no’ to what they ask. With those that frighten you, you’ll say ‘yes’ every time because you have no other choice.”

“Then why extend a kind hand and offer me answers if you want to control me so badly?”

Lucius’ smile does not fade. “I extend my hand to feed you what you crave most. Even prisoners need to eat. How much they’re allowed to, however, depends entirely on their masters. I need not explain myself to you. Simply be happy and content that I give what you ask when I feel like it. I’ve been quite forgiving thus far. In any case, I’ve said I’m not quite as secretive as my boss. But even so, I’m still loyal to him. I respect him.”

You again drop your fork to your plate after swallowing a bit of cucumber. “Why?”

“For many reasons,” is the blunt response you’re given. “If I didn’t respect him, I wouldn’t even be here. That said, as long as you keep your mouth shut about the things you’re told, like you should have the first time you were warned to, you’ll be just fine.”

“And what If I tell him about how much you’re telling me?” You ask with a frown. “Wouldn’t you just get in trouble?”

“My superior forgives a lot of things I do,” Lucius shrugs this off with a knowing laugh. “Even moreso than he does for someone like Lilah or Vanessa, both of whom constantly act out or act unsightly. It’s my job to help him oversee this facility, as it is to protect my superior and work with him. We’re deeply intertwined. Neither of us will actively hurt the other. Assure yourself of that, if you had any intentions of pitting us against each other in some desperate attempt to amuse yourself.”

“It wouldn’t be all that funny watching it while in chains.”

“Even now you still have a mouth on you,” Lucius scoffs. “You’re lucky I don’t sew it shut. I could if I like.”

You try to ignore this uncomfortable statement and continue pecking tiredly at your dish.

“…About Richard,” you try to change the subject. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lucius answers you plainly. “He died on his own. Lived a little longer, if in suffering.”

“Then how did he die?”

“Is there no end to your questions?” Lucius rolls his eyes slightly. “I suppose that’s what I get for indulging you. How he died matters little. While both I and my superior kill people here, we don’t always, or at least not intentionally. It depends. Sometimes deaths are drug-related, sometimes a natural occurrence, et cetera. There are many ways a human body can die. Ask Lilah.”

“I’d rather not,” you grumble. Though, hearing her name again makes you remember the fiasco with the nurse. You can’t help but ask,

“The nurse from before…what did she die of?”

“Huh?” Lucius gives you a puzzled look and another raised brow. “Why ask about that of all things? The workers hardly matter. You’re better off not getting so attached.”

He frowns. “We’re aware of your fascination with the worker in the kitchen. You’re lucky he stopped you from asking the wrong things.”

“He’s just a friend,” you say quietly. “I feel bad that he’s stuck behind that counter and confined to his space there. I feel bad about the workers in general. They take abuse from you just like we do, but even we get time to ourselves that they probably don’t.”

“Is there a reason you’re so adamant on understanding them?” Lucius inquires curiously.

“You ask why I want to know things as if I can give you a coherent answer,” you mumble back. “All of you keep asking me. I don’t know. Maybe I’m grasping at straws. I just need something to tide me over. I always want to know more about this place. Anything.”

“There’s always a price to knowing,” Lucius again smiles. “What that price is always varies. It could be your mind, your body, or your very life.”

Having finished eating, you lower your fork again and place it on your plate. You finally glance over at Lucius with upturned brows.

“What are you talking about?”

The dark-haired man remains laid back in his chair with that cold smile still plastered on his pale face.

“I won’t tell you about the workers so loosely,” he says. “Jade I’ve been fine addressing since she no longer matters. Even her doctor is game. The subject of the workers, however, isn’t one to take lightly. It’s you-know-who’s preference, not mine.”

You recoil slightly, holding both your arms.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you say hesitantly. “Are you threatening me?”

Lucius remains ever calm. “I’m making you an offer, Ten. You want to know more about the workers, right?”

You remain wary, but answer, “…Yes.”

Lucius tilts his head slightly. “Then I’ll tell you about them if you agree to the consequences of knowing. It’s not something I should tell you, which is why there’s a tax to the knowledge. But know that you won’t like knowing any more than you’ll like the price of doing so.”

He unfolds his arms finally and extends a hand toward you.

“Do we have a deal?”

“I…I don’t know,” you hesitate. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” Lucius assures you. “I won’t maim you in any way if that’s what you’re worried about. I won’t break your limbs or poison you or hit you. I won’t lay a finger on you.”

“So I’ll be okay?”

“No, you won’t,” Lucius firmly tells you. “It wouldn’t be a consequence if you got out unscathed.”

You’re not sure what to make of his offer, or what exactly he’s playing at. If he’s promising not to hurt you, then what is he planning? Taking his offer would be far too risky right now. Whatever he has planned for you is likely only going to make things worse. You want to know about the workers. You want to understand why they are the way they are, who they are, and more. There’s no guarantee you’re going to get precise answers. There’s a risk of a harsher punishment over nothing substantial or useful to you. And, as Lucius said, you won’t like knowing about the workers. As it is, it’s horrifying to know that they’re abused and silenced and obedient even in the face of that constant abuse.

You know better.

So why are you extending your hand? You try to tell yourself to pull back, but all you really end up doing is slowing down. Your fingers graze the man’s flesh near his palm, yet you wind up lingering a moment there, terrified of the commitment yet intrigued by the promise of knowing more.

Lucius’ eyes are locked onto you, yet he remains with a calm, cold smile. He knows you’re going to accept. He’s well aware of your intrigue, of who you are and how you are. He’s watched and heard most everything you’ve had to say. Even if he doesn’t much care for the Numbers or any of the other prisoners in this place, he undoubtedly knows a lot about them.

Someone like Gale knows about the others because they must, but Lucius merely knows because of his watchful eye. Whereas The Overseer cares little of anyone and largely puts them out of his mind in favor of more important things, Lucius lingers if only to find reasons to toy with people. He’s made that clear based on how he spoke of Yosuke’s name for you and how he’d be willing to use it against him if need be. He relishes in his position of power, making heavy threats with such a light demeanor, as if it were commonplace.

The Overseer isn’t one to toy with anyone. He cuts to the chase when it comes to what he wants and doesn’t want. Knowing what he intends doesn’t make him any less dangerous. He’s still a threat. Lucius’ unpredictability, however, makes him a different kind of dangerous.

You recall speaking on how you could handle pain if necessary. Lucius has assured he won’t hurt you, but you aren’t sure that’s true. You have no idea what he might try, but figure it’s going to be hellish for you.

Then again, you’re already in a hellish place. What does it matter anymore? The price you pay will be miserable, but you’re already miserable. You suppose adding to that can’t do much harm if it isn’t going to kill you. For now, you figure you’ll deal with the pain when it comes. Even now your heart races as you anticipate whatever Lucius will do.

Your palm meets his, and the moment it does, he clutches your hand tightly while still eyeing you. The act takes you aback because of how strongly he grips you. Once he has you, Lucius leans in just slightly.

“You can’t take this back, you know,” he speaks lowly.

“I know,” you assure the man, though you start to tremble. It’s difficult to appear so strong when you instinctively shiver like a frightened animal. Though, that’s probably how the men watching you in this room see you. Even Milos compared your frightened demeanor to that of a rabbit.

“Very well, then,” Lucius’ tone again returns to a more casual one. Only now do you realize how gravely his other statement sounded coming out of his mouth. “But you’ll have to wait for that information. Right now, it looks like you’re done eating. I have to get back to other things.”

“Then when?”

“Are you eager to get it over with, or are you a sadistic girl?” Lucius chuckles as he releases your hand. “Perhaps you enjoyed being handled roughly by the both of us. Is that it?”

Annoyed, you give a sneer and turn your head away from the man. He merely laughs to himself and takes your tray before shutting the curtain again.

More time passes, and again you have no idea how much. Both men come and go as always, and you’re left in the safety behind your thin veil. So long as the curtain’s drawn, neither man will hurt you.

You’re left to ponder on Jade further. It vexes you to know that her case is so similar to yours, and you can only hope that the path you’re led down isn’t the same as hers. You’re not at all in high spirits about your future here. The only way you can probably avoid a pregnancy is if you get another procedure done. Even if there’s only a chance of infertility, maybe it’s worth it in order for you to live longer.

However, this posits a problem—is it better to know your fate and let it run its course, if only to keep your memories and your relationships with the people you’ve gotten to know? You’re on a timer now. It’s no longer a matter of If, but rather when. Unless there’s a chance your regular shots can equally cause the same infertility as the main procedure, you’re not sure you can get out of this.

If there’s a sliver of chance that having The Overseer wipe your memory could make you infertile, is that worth it? You’d live longer at the cost of forgetting most everything.

You grip the fabric of your mattress tightly thinking on this dilemma. No matter what, your decision is laden with a frightful certainty—you’ll suffer no matter what. That’s why you took Lucius’ deal. You knew this. At the very least, you wanted to gain something in return.

You ponder on another question: Will Yosuke attempt hide your pregnancy like Richard tried to hide Jade’s? The girl’s doctor sounded far less cruel than Yosuke, though he was still a doctor. Yosuke is a bit different, more callous when he has no reason to be nice. He’d made it sound like he’d be alright giving you up If you had to be taken away because of a pregnancy. However, the more he’s gotten attached to you, the less you believe that.

If you return to him and his twisted love for you is still strong, then you doubt he’ll just let you go. He wants you to be his, and if he’s stupid enough to let his obsession do something out of line without remorse, then he’s probably also stupid enough to try protecting you from anything that will take you from him.

As much as you hate admitting it, Yosuke is human. He’s prone to errors, to mistakes, to fault. You vaguely remember conversing on the subject with him before you were taken away. Though, he’d spoken of evil. Remembering this only makes you question your capacity to hurt others. Yosuke had suggested you could, but you refuse to believe it.

But then…why reach for Lucius’ gun? You suppose everyone’s right about how weak you are. Killing isn’t easy. You can’t even bring yourself to think on doing it without growing a tinge ill. Perhaps you could shoot to incapacitate, but that’s still a problem because you have no idea how a gun works. Pull the trigger? Is it that easy?

As if on cue, your ears ring again. The ringing has not entirely left you even after all this time, though it has started to slow down significantly. Any episodes you have are brief. That’s at least a blessing. Your head is even doing a little better, though you still get headaches now and again from sleeping too much.

As you lay on your side in one moment, you think on Jade again, still unable to let the subject leave your mind. You wonder how much she’d really told the others about what she was dealing with. From the way it sounded, she hardly spoke out about a lot of it.

Coddled by her doctor…if Cyrus had known, you wonder just how he’d have reacted to your own situation. As it is, he’d been horrified when he saw you throw up. It probably brought him back to a terrible place in time in his mind. Should he have known how similar you and Jade really were, it might have hurt him more to see you suffer the way you had been.

If Cyrus truly does associate you and Jade at all, you wonder if he’s just torturing himself by loving you, however it is that he does. Was it wrong, then, to have gotten so close to him? Is it your fault that he hurts? No, you don’t want to believe so. He’d probably say,

“Of course not. You don’t have to blame yourself for everything, you know.”

For once in a while, you smile just slightly to yourself. The curvature of your lips is weak and subtle, but you can feel the muscles in your face shifting in response to the memory of him. You wish he and Lav were here to comfort you or hold your hands. Anything at all. You’d even settle for Eight’s less-than-satisfactory kind words buried in a conniving tone at this point. You wish you could hear the sound of his violin right now. Even though it’s been a while, you can still remember the song he played for you.

At some point, you start to question whether Lucius really intends to tell you about the workers or not. So much time feels like it passes that you think he’s abandoned the idea, and that you were just being played. Maybe he wanted to see whether you were foolish enough to accept, though that makes little sense when you could see in his eyes that he knew you would. For him, it was only a matter of waiting for you to say yes to his offer.

You ponder what “consequence” he was even referring to. You’re still fearful of what he might do, but accept that it’s going to happen anyway. You’re not sure you’re ready for it, though. Nothing’s ever pleasant in the moment, but you’ve gotten through a lot already. Might as well see what else there is.

Is It wrong to go in so readily, without a care? Does that mean you’re slipping? Even if it does, what can you really do about it? Your lack of motivation doesn’t change even when you do think of better things. Even so, you still want to try keeping your head up enough to breathe above the surface of misery. You won’t be another Jade. You can’t.

Later on, after an unknown amount of time, you finally wake up from a long slumber. No doubt this one was induced by anesthesia based on how groggy and out of it you feel upon opening your eyes. For a moment, you can’t really even bring yourself to move. You’re so tired you just want to go right back to sleep, but don’t bother to since you’re equally as sick of being asleep as you are of being awake. You don’t really even remember being put out this time, so you must have been given another huge dose.

Despite your woozy state, you clearly feel a careful hand rest upon your shoulder. For some reason, you associate the touch with Yosuke, and in one small instant you forget entirely the predicament you’re in. Just in that one moment before you fully come to awareness, you forget just where you are and who you’re dealing with. Unfortunately, this doesn’t last very long, and you again remember just where you are. You know quite well whose hand it really is on your shoulder. What strikes you as odd is why he’s waking you up like this rather than by calling you.

Tiredly, you turn your head to the side and look up at the man hovering above your bed. As expected, he’s donning the same uncomfortable smile as he always does while he watches you arouse from your slumber.

“Glad you’re still with us,” he remarks with a teasing tone. “I do believe I owe you something.”

“...What?” You’re still groggy as hell. So much so that you can’t really remember everything right off the top of your head. You wearily sit up and rub your eye while trying to recollect things. Only when you force yourself to remember do you finally recall what Lucius means. You look up at the man and again hold your arms.

“My boss will be out for a good while. We have plenty of time,” Lucius remarks casually. “I had to wait until a more opportune moment appeared to do this.”

“What are you going to do?” You question right off the bat the very moment you are able to bring yourself to speak. Your voice is a bit low and dry from your long slumber. Lucius merely frowns.

“Do be patient,” he reprimands you firmly. “I’ll willingly give you the information first. I have to take my time, after all.”

He reaches into his pocket slowly and extracts from it a small syringe. You’re confused at first, until it dawns on you that it’s not the anesthetic. Even in the dim light, you can see a tinge of red inside the glass since it’s so close to you.

Instinctively, you recoil, and your eyes widen as you stare worriedly at the thing. Your body tenses up as the unpleasant memory of the experience you had with the drug floods your mind. Lucius watches your disturbed reaction.

“Why so hesitant?” He questions lightly, smiling again. “You accepted the risk, didn’t you?”

Yes, but…

“In any case, I promised I wouldn’t lay a finger on you,” Lucius goes on before you can even answer him. Not like you’re able now, with how frozen you are. Lucius smirks at you, amused by your fearful state.

“This dose isn’t for you.”

Still holding the syringe by its stem and plunger, which is resting upon pad of his thumb, Lucius walks over to the entrance of the room and opens the door. With the same free hand, he motions toward himself to someone out in the hall.

“Come on, now,” he calls coyly. His far lighter tone makes it sound like he’s addressing a child. “We’re ready for you.”

He steps back slightly to allow space for whoever’s in the hall to come forward. You’re disturbed to see a worker slowly shuffle his way in. He turns his head toward you just a moment when he’s in the room, though he immediately turns his attention back to Lucius once the door shuts behind him.

“Very good,” the man calls to the worker. “Ten, this is C1. He’s been with us for quite some time now. He’s gotten a quite slow, but he still has a small chance to be of use. I hope you won’t mind if I use him for the purposes of our discussion.”

Again, you don’t answer. Rather, you remain silent and begin to shiver slightly when Lucius slowly turns his head toward you and settles his dark gaze upon you, still with a smile.

“What exactly is it you’d like to know?” He asks. You aren’t sure how to answer him. Right now, your throat feels stuck, so you can’t even really bring yourself to say anything right away anyway. When you remain silent, Lucius tilts his head a little.

“You’d like to peek beneath the uniform, I presume?” He continues to tease you. “I’m sure you think there’s some grand thing hidden under those heavy clothes. Under that mask. Rest assured, they’re still people. They’re just not exactly all there all the time.”

He turns back to the worker and frowns. “C1, stand against the wall.”

The worker doesn’t really respond right away. He merely stands there idly, his face pointed somewhat toward the floor. Lucius flares a nostril, glowering slightly all the while. His voice becomes firmer.

“C1, I said against the wall.”

Again, the worker does not immediately respond. Only when he picks his head up slightly and processes that he’s been given an order does Lucius finally react. He kicks the worker hard against the stomach, knocking him back. He then presses the soles of his shoes firmly against the worker’s abdomen, holding him firmly in place. The gloved hands of the worker shakily rise up to grip the man’s ankle, but the quiet man makes no attempts to struggle. He seems far too weary too suddenly.

Lucius grins, almost as if delighted. “Slow as ever. You’re on your last legs, you know. Do you even care?”

He digs his heel into the worker’s stomach, and you can see the trembling of his gloved hands worsening.

“S…stop,” you finally force yourself to speak. “Lucius!”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like the consequences, Ten,” Lucius warns you. “Until we’re done here, you’ll suffer. But, in return, I will give you what I promised as per our arrangement.”

“I know, but-!“

Lucius does not even bother turning his head to face you while he continues tormenting the worker. He interrupts you sharply.

“If you try to go back on this, I’ll go back on my promise not to lay my hands upon you.”

He chuckles and digs his heel even further into the worker. For the first time, you finally hear a noise emit from one. The worker does not let out a cry, scream, or a whimper. Merely a labored breath that remains muffled greatly by his mask.

“Now where shall we begin?” Lucius questions, finally dropping his foot. When he sees the worker clutch his stomach, he frowns. “C1, do remove your uniform for our guest.”

Now fully aware, the worker tries his best to comply. Whatever distant state he was in prior is now shaken away by the pain he no doubt must feel. Still with trembling hands, the worker slowly moves to undo his uniform. He starts first by peeling down his thick black gloves by their edges, revealing two hands that almost look completely void of color with this lack of proper lighting. Grey, even. You’re sure that’s not the case, but from where you’re sitting, it does look that way.

The worker drops his gloves on the floor, almost wearily, as if he’s given up on them. After they’re gone, he undoes his coat, popping open buttons that had been out of sight and hidden beneath the crease on the front of the thing. He starts with the bottom and moves up. Once he’s done, he slowly pulls the thing off, revealing his torso. His build looks to be average, yet he’s a little on the thin side. He doesn’t necessarily look malnourished, but definitely lacking in mass when compared to even the skinniest of the Numbers. His skin still looks ever flushed and colorless, though with more of it in sight, you see just a hint of some color. What it is, you can’t tell from across the room.

The worker’s hair is more apparent now, if weighed down tightly at the scalp and sides by the straps on his mask that encase his head. It’s fairly thin hair, but there’s also a lot of it protruding from his scalp. From what you can tell, it’s some light brown color. Whether it’s the lighting that makes it look so ashen, or the poor physical health of the worker, you’re not sure.

All that remains now after the worker drops the heavy cloth of the upper portion of his uniform is his lower half and his mask. When he eventually pulls his boots off and pulls down his pants, you see that he’s wearing thin grey underclothes—one sleeveless shirt, and one pair of loose shorts. He’s otherwise bare.

Finally, the worker removes his mask, moving a hand wearily back behind his head while continuing to hold his injured stomach with the other hand. There are a few audible clicks from his undoing of these straps, but he eventually brings his hand back to its face and slowly pulls It down and off of him before promptly letting it fall and clatter loudly onto the floor.

You expected something unusual for some reason. Perhaps grotesque. But the face of this man is like the face of many others. However, his sullen, sunken in brown eyes, thin bridge of the nose, and thin, chapped lips make him look worn out as all hell. Not only that, but you can visibly see him catching his breath after being kicked so hard. All he does, however, is breathe. He makes no noise at all, even without his heavier uniform on.

The worker leans against the wall and perks his head up as his brown eyes wander to Lucius’ hand with the syringe in it. He stares quite intently at the thing, still breathing through his mouth and clutching his stomach all the while.

Lucius again smiles. He raises the syringe slightly above the worker’s head as if like a treat for a dog. As you figured, the worker’s eyes follow the thing with a quiet eagerness.

“Your body is in shambles, C1,” Lucius reminds the man. “You really want it now?”

The worker says nothing, but continues to keep his weary gaze fixated on the red-tinted drug. His hands still tremble even now.

Lucius subtly chuckles and cups the underside of the worker’s chin with his free hand, roughly gripping the sides of it with his fingers. Even doing this, the worker’s focused gaze does not at all falter.

“Very well, then,” Lucius again grins amusedly. “If you so like. Kneel.”

With the promise of receiving such a drug, the worker does as asked. He drops down to the floor on his knees, sitting upon his heels and continuing to clutch his stomach. His breathing deepens.

“Like a dog, you are,” Lucius remarks with a sly smirk. He drops the syringe over the worker, who promptly catches it in his hands. He almost drops the thing, but hurriedly grips it in his unsteady, quaking fingers.

Watching this, you’re left bewildered and disgusted all at once. You can’t bring yourself to speak, but merely bring a hand to your mouth and remain shivering while you watch the worker as he excitedly, yet wearily, uncaps the syringe and brings it to his outer thigh. He lifts the bottom hem of his left leg on his loose shorts, exposing to you an array of bruises where you presume the man’s been constantly injecting himself for however long he’s been here.

“They’re…”

“Addicted,” Lucius finishes for you when you trail off. He turns his head toward you and gives another smile. “You want to know so badly why they comply? Why they do anything it is we ask of them no matter what? They love this stuff. Can’t get enough of it.”

“W-why?!” You demand, still with your hand over your mouth. You uncomfortably watch as the worker pierces his flesh with the needle, eager for its dose and donning a slight curve upon his lips. “Why would you?!”

Lucius laughs. “Why else? It’s a rather efficient way to garner artificially induced loyalty. We start with fearmongering and physical altercation, then we compensate with a little taste of something wonderful—the chance to feel good unapologetically, the chance to feel an inkling of bliss amidst the crashing tides of mental fog and physical pain. A brief respite from the otherwise inescapable misery.”

His eyes gradually shift down. Lucius watches calmly as the worker finishes his injection and lets the used syringe roll onto the floor from his fingers after plucking its needle out of his bruised flesh.

“Even when they hate us, they depend on us. They always come back for their fix, always look forward to it. So, we hit them with the stuff. Again, again, and again. More and more, until they’re so dependent on the drug that they don’t care at all what happens to them so long as they can get it. The real world is full of people who do the same thing with other kinds of drugs. We don’t allow consistent use of any other kind of drug like it for that reason alone.”

The worker on the floor leans his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes. His expression reflects an unnerving relief. His chest rises and falls with exponentially more force as he starts to suck in more breaths. He looks as though he’s relishing in and patiently awaiting the arrival of the drug’s effects. You, however, remain afraid of what that means for you.

“Let’s be quick about this,” Lucius speaks up. “We are on a time limit here, after all. Will you ask me your questions, or shall I explain everything myself since you’re so stuck in such a trembling, frozen state?”

“I…” You remain unable to adequately respond. Your mind is running in circles trying to parse through information, yet you can’t take it all in so suddenly. All you can really ask is, “What the fuck Is that drug?”

Lucius’ amused expression does not falter.

“VU-57,” he explains. “Nicknamed ‘Red Valentine’ after its signature color and effects, by those who prefer to call it that. No doubt you’re already fairly aware of what it does. As it pertains to the workers, we give them small doses of the stuff to hook them, but do gradually up it with time. You were lucky not to get that kind of a strong dose.”

He folds his arms.

“Did Yosuke explain it to you when he gave you the dose he did? It’s a slowly arriving but rewarding rush, highly addictive in nature, but equally damaging to the body. A dose once or twice in separate times is hardly concerning. Prolonged use, however, leads to a slew of rather unfortunate side effects. You can guess by looking at this sick young man, can’t you?”

The frail worker remains on the floor, still awaiting his pleasure. He almost looks as if he’s praying for it by the way he’s breathing and staring up. But more than anything, he looks absolutely absent. His sunken in eyes are now fixated on one spot above him, and he does not appear to acknowledge anything else in the room. Once he’s had his injection, it’s as If he cares little for anything else. Even his earlier tight clutching of his stomach has lessened, though he hasn’t bothered to drop his hands from his stomach yet. His heavy breaths fill the room.

“A few minor side effects are of course common, as is the case with any drug,” Lucius goes on, shrugging slightly as he says this as if it’s such a casual topic. “But prolonged use leads to things like brain damage and severely weakened immune systems. Gradually, users’ cognitive functions will diminish. They’ll be far less alert. They can often still function normally for a while, but it will eventually reach a point where they’re of little use to anyone. Our dear C1 here is one such case. As I said, he’s on his last legs. He’s been much slower as of late. Weaker than he used to be.”

Your mind wanders back to Charlie and his difficulty communicating. You’d figured his lack of writing skill came from his possibly being memory wiped, but now you realize that this drug must also be a factor. He’s been here for a little while since he’d come even before your group was fully formed. Although you remain fearful for him, you also remind yourself that he still seems grounded and aware enough to still cook and communicate. He’s not out yet. but you know he will be one day.

“Withdrawals often lead to even worse side effects,” Lucius keeps talking as you remain unable. He seems to be relishing giddily in your disturbed reaction, and is eager to keep torturing you with the information. “Consistent aching, skin lesions, restlessness, anxiety. And worst of all, the damage done from the addiction isn’t really reversible and may persist even long after the drug Is stopped, something we’ve learned trying to punish workers by taking their doses away. All regular users eventually wither away and die.

“Of course, this means we have to replace workers now and again. It isn’t much difficult to do so. For however expendable you are, they’re even moreso. With people like you, Ten, we have to take good care in researching you and examining you. We have to know everything about you and your body before we can even think about drugging you. It’s not hard to replace you, but it is a lengthy process. The workers, however, we can easily just pluck from society and hold onto. It hardly matters who. If they die in their confinement, during an operation, or in any other moment, then it’s no trouble to just go out and find someone else.”

“T-that’s horrible!” You finally manage to cry out. You remember the first nurse you met seeming a bit eager upon Lucius saying something to her. You can’t wholly remember what, but do remember that it was a vague statement. You’re certain it had to do with the drug he’s talking about now. “Why do you have to do this to them? They don’t deserve any of this!”

“They don’t even think about their dilemma after a certain point,” Lucius waves this off. “They’re happy here. They’re like little lapdogs now and again, begging for their treats. Of course we’re happy to oblige their obsession so long as they heel when we tell them to. I deliver their little treat to their quarters and let them have at one another as they like so long as they don’t touch the other prisoners or fight over someone else’s dose. They don’t feel the pain of being here after a while.”

“All you’ve done is conditioned them into thinking they want something like this,” you dispute him furiously. “Why don’t they say anything? Why don’t they talk or fight back? I can’t understand!”

“Are you dense, girl?” Lucius gives a throated laugh. “Honestly. They won’t act out if doing so means they don’t get their fun little fix. We punish them accordingly when they do act out, you know. The newest ones often still have fight in them. For those who are barely on the cusp of addiction, we get to be a little more physical.”

You wonder if such a punishment was the case for N4. Even if she’d only grabbed Lucius’ arm, it was uncharacteristic of a worker to do. You’re sure she must have gotten in trouble for it after she left.

“As for their silence, that’s on our part,” Lucius continues. He unfolds his arms and moves to lean back against the console, similarly to how The Overseer had before. “They don’t speak because we don’t want them to.”

“What?” You remain in your fearful, upset state. “What the hell do you-“

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” The man sharply interrupts you. “I’m coming to that. There’s no need for your rudeness.“

Does he expect you to apologize? What does he think you’re going to do when you’re being fed such horrid information? You can’t help but speak before thinking. He should know more than anyone how frightened people act and how irrational they can be. You can’t think properly.

“Evidently we don’t want them communicating amongst one another,” Lucius notes. “Though in part, the silence is something my boss prefers. He used to just let them keep their voices so long as they stayed silent and obedient willingly, but the addicted ones make such ungodly noises that it vexed my superior enough for him to enforce silence for everyone. You Numbers should count yourselves lucky that we allow you the luxury of speech. We allow you many luxuries, in fact.”

He waves his hand about. “Gale’s idea, not ours. They were quite insistent on quality-of-life changes for our other prisoners.”

Gale…? But why?

“In any case, we achieve speech inhibition in our workers a number of ways,” Lucius interrupts your thoughts before you can linger on them. “Severing specific nerves that completely hinder speech capabilities, damaging or removing parts necessary for speaking, or artificially inducing a permanent vocal paralysis otherwise. In most cases, they can still breathe, they just struggle to. However, a few of our workers have to breathe through holes in their necks that we were forced to make, and those require careful dressing and maintenance. It’s really more trouble than it’s worth to maintain, and they can’t usually be trusted to do it themselves. So, we usually don’t keep those workers around long.

“Even so, the gas masks aren’t just to shroud the workers’ profiles. They’re necessary to protect the nose and throat for all of them. It’s crucial that they have that protection from any lingering drugs in the air, especially since they’re often tasked with fetching you when you’re unconscious and when rooms are still being filled. Those with holes in their throats merely need extra coverage in those areas. But of course, you see very little of that with those uniforms they wear.”

He glances over at the still heavily breathing worker.

“In fact, you see very little of their weakened physical and mental state behind all that cloth. But make no mistake, Ten—they’re very much human. From now on, presuming your memory remains after all this is over, the image of this sickly, desperate thing is what you’ll see whenever you encounter a worker or a nurse, right?”

You shake your head, lips parted and eyes wide. “Stop it.”

Lucius refuses and gives knowing smirk. “It’s the price you pay for your curiosity. If you want us to feel remorse for what we do, you’ll be sorely disappointed. ‘Shame on you’ is not a sentiment that affects us.”

He then pushes off of the edge of the computer and makes his way slowly toward you. When he’s at your bedside, he reaches a hand calmly to your face and gently touches the underside of your chin, resting it atop his fingers. All you can do is watch him, looking up at his face with a fearful gaze. You want to swat him away, but you’re afraid he’ll hurt you if you do, despite him promising not to bring you harm himself.

“Do be careful with your actions, princess,” he says with a façade of sweetness in his voice. “Or else you’ll end up like them,”

Your eyes widen, but you say nothing. You really don’t have to, as Lucius gathers the question in your gaze long before it comes out from your lips.

“There’s hardly a need to gather people off the street if we have a stock of free bodies right here,” he answers your silent inquiry. “If we have anyone here who’s particularly disobedient, of little use to us as a prisoner, or otherwise, then we recycle them as we see fit. Should they survive the necessary procedures to mold them into workers, that’s precisely what they become.”

Your voice shakes. “…Then…?”

“Yes,” Lucius again answers a question you don’t even properly get out. He smiles his cold smile, staring deeply into your eyes without a bit of remorse. “If we can still get use out of you long after your usefulness as a patient has ended, and you don’t do anything stupid that makes us have to kill you sooner, then we’ll recycle you until we decide to finally let you die.”

He leans down just a bit to reach you even closer.

“Anyone is game, really,” he tells you with a low voice. “You want to know what happened to our dear, disloyal Lafayette? His Number couldn’t be salvaged. He, however, could. In the end, he died of an overdose. His mind was in shambles. A man once a proud doctor was turned into something so vile and so worthless—it’s unfortunate.”

He laughs amusedly in your ear as your breathing deepens. Your heart is pounding fiercely, and your shivering remains relentless.

“Now lay down, princess,” he commands you sweetly. “You’ve gotten plenty of answers. I won’t entertain anything further than this about them. I certainly hope you think it’s worth what I’m about to put you through.”

He finally pulls back from you and watches expectantly, awaiting you to do as ordered. However, you do nothing but sit there shivering. Your hand again comes to your mouth as you try to remain quiet in your shock. You knew it was going to be bad. You knew. But that doesn’t make it any less sick.

You’re given ample time to process everything before you feel your body get tugged down the mattress by your calf, causing you to fall backwards anyway. When you snap back to, you see Lucius pulling you down and beginning to snap the shackles of the chains at the other end of the bed shut around each ankle. Only now do you realize that the chains there are shorter than the ones for your arms. You hadn’t noticed that they were when you saw them from the center of the room

“W-wait!” You beg. Now, you’re faced with a new fear. Your eyes flicker toward the worker against the wall beside the door, watching with horror as you see his labored breathing so visibly through his violently rising chest. He looks absolutely enthralled, even if he’s currently in his own world. You pity him dearly, but simultaneously can’t process knowing what he’s going to do to you. It isn’t his fault. It really isn’t.

“You’ve no reason to complain now,” Lucius sternly tells you as he finishes adjusting the restraints. “You knew there were consequences involved. I warned you, and you agreed to this despite that warning.”

He’s not wrong, but he again fails to weigh the factor of a fear response. It’s not something you can just let go or be rational about. You wish you could explain it to him, but in your state, you can’t much do anything. Not like such a man as him would listen to anything you have to say anyway.

You tug at your leg restraints and find the disproportion between the freedom of your arm movements and the restriction of your leg movements completely disorienting. It only adds to the terror you harbor inside of you.

Lucius next comes to your side and grabs hold of your left wrist. Without explaining himself, he pins It hard against the left side of the bars on the head of your bed and shuffles through his shirt for the key to the shackles. You want to fight him, but the fear of his retaliation keeps you still. Nonetheless, you watch the man undo the metal binding with unease. He winds the excess chain tightly around one of the bars, then re-cuffs your wrist. You instinctively tug at the restraint, only to be put off by the inability to move more than an inch or two away from the bar after so long of being able to move a little more freely before by comparison. You continue to breathe uneasily in your panic, your body still trembling.

“T-the workers get the same drug we do, right?” You shakily question. “They’re sterile too, aren’t they?”

Lucius merely glances at you with his smile and clasps the last shackle closed around your other wrist.

“Shall we find out?”

Is he just toying with you? You hope desperately for that to be the case. Your panic merely worsens because of his cheeky response. This is a very real risk for you and he’s treating it like nothing. These people are monsters.

“Why are you doing this?” You demand, frightfully tugging at your tightened bonds. “Any of this?!”

“For fun,” Lucius unapologetically remarks. “I might as well entertain myself while I’m stuck watching you, mm? I’m still quite sour that I have to act as your temporary caretaker. This merely evens things out.”

“You think this is entertaining?!”

Lucius laughs to himself. “Your suffering, yes. The more sexually endowed nature of such suffering is neutral. I can take it or leave it. But my boss doesn’t much like it when I do this kind of thing, so I often don’t unless I care enough to go behind his back for it. I’m an intelligent man, but even he forgets that I am still a man.”

You realize what he’s implying. Only now do you fully understand that the workers aren’t just beaten by him. This doesn’t help your frightened state in the least.

Lucius tilts his head a bit. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to hear screams and cries that didn’t just come from mere pleadings to not be killed. Of course, I’ve also accustomed myself to the silence of workers enough. Although I do love it just as well.”

He playfully pats your cheek. “Enough dawdling, now. You’ll pay what you owe for that information. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you and I won’t. He, however, will.”

He gestures to the worker on the floor.

“C1, are you still alive over there?” He questions with a disturbing delight to his voice. “Come now. I know what you want. I can see and hear your eager breaths so clearly.”

For once, the worker finally shifts his brown, sunken eyes slowly toward Lucius. Despite his weary disposition earlier, he’s now fully alert. With the promise of fulfilling his drug-induced urge being waved in front of his face, he slowly rises to his feet. You can see him struggling to, as if moving has become such a chore. However, whatever eagerness he’s been ramped up with prevents him from sensibly stopping himself. You’re very aware of the effects of this drug, but you don’t know how much different it is for someone who’s already so affected by it that they’re quite actually dying.

Nonetheless, between your fear of being used relentlessly and of being impregnated, you find the man’s frayed and worn disposition haunting. You have no clue whether or not he wants to do this as little as you do, or if his inhibitions from long-term abuse of the substance he’s been pumped full of for no doubt a long time has hindered his judgement so much that he has no care or qualm in the world about it.

The worker stumbles his way toward you, still breathing heavily. Despite his drug-induced desperation, he looks to Lucius before proceeding. Lucius merely gives the man a pat on the head and a subtle nod, treating him like a curious child despite having earlier treated him like dirt.

With this quiet approval, the worker wastes no time climbing atop you. His gaping mouth expels more anticipant breaths as the man straddles your naked body. Seeing him so up close now, he looks as if he might once have been a fairly average looking, healthy guy. But now, he’s sickly and tired. There are bags under his eyes that are more apparent with his closeness, and the fleshy tones of his skin are less grey now that he’s right before your face. Even so, he still looks fairly pale and colorless. Unhealthy, overall.

There’s a layer of defeat in his brown eyes that you can discern, and it only arouses sympathy in your heart that pokes through even all the fear you’re wrought with because of your situation. You can’t imagine what kind of person this worker must have been before being kidnapped. Is he even someone who was kidnapped? What if he was another prisoner here? He doesn’t look old enough to be a doctor, but not so young that he couldn’t possibly be one either. Though, it’s hard to tell with how sick he looks.

You don’t really want to think about it anyway. Doing so will only make this much worse. It’s already bad enough for him, as it is for you.

You turn your head away, not eager to face the worker in the least. In part, you want to try begging him not to do this, but you know for certain that it won’t do any good. Nothing will reach him if he’s this far gone. He’s eagerly awaiting his pleasure, and he has no care in the world what he must do to get it. Your fists clench as you anticipate his use of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an observant Lucius. By now, he’s moved to where the worker had been prior and is now leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. His dark eyes fixate on you, and his smile remains subtle, but certainly present. If anything, he looks smug. You give him as furious a scowl as possible despite your frightful state hindering it, but say nothing. Your attention on him, unfortunately, is ripped away by the feeling of the sickly worker shifting one of the flat hands he’s placed against the mattress to the top of his shorts. Eagerly, he pulls them down, starting from the side of his hip to expose the rest of his sickly flesh there before he moves his hand along the band to tug at the cloth and completely reveal himself to you.

You refuse to look at him anymore.

The worker does not bother waiting a moment. He separates both your legs, then uses his fingers to open your labia so that he can enter you. The touch of his dry flesh there only makes you tremble more. However, your quiet fright is furthered when he forces the tip and subsequently the shaft of his cock into you.

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens as you gasp and cry at the pain this brings you. The worker doesn’t even bother taking his time. He forces himself into you as much as possible before he starts to thrust eagerly in and out of you. His loud, panting breaths remain ever present in your ear, but at some point after the first bunch of obsessive thrusts, it all stops. You’re suddenly unable to hear a thing other than a loud ringing in your ears as you remain frozen with a twisted, painful expression.

What’s happening?

All of a sudden, you can’t hear or think or move. It’s not because of the restraints—you simply feel locked in place. You can clearly feel the worker pumping his cock eagerly in and out of you without mercy. You can still feel his hot breaths against your neck and ear and cheek. But all of a sudden, you’re just frozen. Numb. The initial pain you felt suddenly stops as you try to process what’s going on.

Your eyes struggle to focus on anything as the ringing relentlessly continues in your ears. Things look blurry all of a sudden, and all you can make out are shapes and shadows. Only when the ringing in your ears eventually subsides are you suddenly aware of the worker’s heavy, intense breathing noises. By now, he’s starting to sound hoarse. His breaths are dry and labored. You feel his hands curl around the miniscule amount of loose fabric on your mattress as he fucks you relentlessly. When you’re aware of what’s happening again, you’re unfortunately made aware of the pain as well.

“S…Stop!” You finally bring yourself to cry, gritting your teeth immediately after. “It hurts!”

Not only had the worker dryly entered you with whatever precum he probably had being the only lubrication, but it’s been a while since you’ve done this. Your body wasn’t exactly ready.

Your fists clench tighter and the side of your head presses against your thin pillow as you let out another loud cry. No matter how hard you beg, the worker keeps going, like some kind of machine. He was horrendously slow and weary before being drugged, but he’s been forcefully given a rush of energy and is largely ignoring the hindrances of his weary body because of his artificially induced lust.

You have no idea if Lucius has been saying anything or if he’s remained quiet this entire time. You can’t really focus on him anymore. Your lower body stings with pain. You’re wet by now, but you don’t know if it’s natural or if it stemmed from you being forced into so fiercely that you’ve started to bleed. The worker, despite his sickly, weary state, forces himself to go fast in his drugged-up desperation to feel some kind of pleasure. No matter how much you cry and scream, no matter how much you tug at the chains around your wrists he does not stop.

Eventually, the worker reaches his peak and rests his head closer against your neck as his breaths become shallower and quicker. He makes no vocalizations, with his labored breathing the only indication of his arousal. Soon, you feel his cock pulse inside of you before he releases a few spurts of warm cum into your pussy.

You continue to feel nothing but pain. Even with the throbbing, wet, warmth inside of you, there’s no pleasure that comes from it. You remain laying there, shivering and in a state of shock. Your own breaths become louder as you try to recover from being used.

However, the worker doesn’t really stop there. You knew he wouldn’t, yet had wished eagerly that he might. The man does not bother leaving your body once. As soon as his strength is again gathered, he tightly grips the mattress in his curled fingers and begins to thrust into you again. By now, you’re wet enough for it to not feel quite as awful and full of uncomfortable pressure, but the stinging from your earlier forceful penetration remains. The constant rubbing of his cock against your entrance as it slides in and out of you doesn’t much help it either.

“Lucius, please…!” You continue to beg between pained breaths and cries. You aren’t sure why you’re begging for him to stop it when you know he won’t.

Strangely, however, he does push off of the wall and make his way back to your bedside, standing to the side of your legs as he watches with a raised brow at the worker continuing to unapologetically pump in and out of you. By now there are a slew of disgusting slapping and rapid shuffling noises emitting from his use of you that echoes throughout the room. You can’t stand it.

Lucius lingers at his place beside you and the worker a moment, eyeing the both of you with a curious expression. After a while of watching your tortured, twisted, pain-wrought face up close, he eventually grabs the worker by the scalp and forces him up. The man is kept kneeling and straddling atop you as he’s held painfully in his place. His thinly clothed chest heaves and ebbs as he continues sucking in breath, recovering from his pleasure and simultaneously still desperate to feel more despite the interruption. However, you can clearly see him in pain, as his face twists and his teeth grit as Lucius holds him firmly, tugging at his roots.

The brief respite from your incessant rape, no matter how short, is welcome. You try to breathe, but every bit of respiration is shaky and shallow. When you’re able to focus on things again, you realize upon sensing a wetness along your cheeks that you’d started tearing up from the pain in your lower body. You’re not even sure when you began to.

You finally turn your head back up, only to see Lucius’ unbothered smile.

“If you want it to stop, then it’ll stop,” he says casually. However, he takes his free arm and reaches toward the holster on his side. He undoes the thing and grabs his pistol, then promptly whips it out and points the barrel straight against the side of the worker’s head, all the while still with his calm, cold smile. He clicks something on it with his thumb, then places his finger on the trigger without a care.

“Shall I?”

Your eyes widen, and you tug your tightly chained wrists forward as much as you can instinctively.

“No!” You beg him. “P-please don’t!”

Lucius finally frowns. “Well, you can’t have it both ways, can you? Either you take him, or I will.”

When you merely respond with a shaking breath, too paralyzed by another rush of fear to speak, Lucius again smiles.

“It’s a good deal, isn’t it?” He posits. “If he dies, you might be safe. He’s already filled you once. You wouldn’t want to further risk impregnation from a sickly worker, would you? It’d be pretty unfortunate. Killing him would make things easier.”

“Please…don’t…” you again manage to whimper out. You shut your eyes a moment and press your lips together as you swallow your decision. Eventually, you re-open your eyes and shift them away.

“Just let him go.”

You don’t want to be faced with another death. You’re not even sure you could handle it right now. Even if he’ll eventually die, if letting the worker fuck you means he can live another day, then fine. You won’t be selfish like Lucius expects.

The dark-haired man merely chuckles and retracts his pistol, tilting it upward.

“As you like.”

Lucius merely takes one small step back, all the while releasing the worker and waving his hand as if presenting him to you. As if nothing at all had just transpired, the worker atop you immediately hunches back over your body, hands pressed against the mattress on either side of your torso, and begins to thrust again into you. His heavy breaths pick up once more, though they’re so labored and hoarse from the young man’s constant sucking of air that it pains you to hear him.

You try to think of anything at all to help you feel even an inkling of pleasure to make up for the pain you feel. Nothing helps. The friction of the young man’s crotch constantly rubbing against yours starts to numb your skin there. Even moreso, the furious pumping of his cock into your already sore pussy only makes the stinging even worse.

You wish that at least there had been some level of foreplay. Even the doctors made you a little wet beforehand. Even Milos of all people, despite his forceful entry. You can’t really think on whether his abuse of you was more painful than this. All you know is that you want it all to stop.

Even as you accustom yourself to the worker’s body with time, you still remain flooded with fear and pain. No part of you enjoys this. No part of you is able to no matter how hard you try to arouse yourself. All you can do is take the worker’s cum over and over, letting out cries and gasps of pain in between every forceful thrust.

You don’t know how many times the worker comes inside of you. Keeping count isn’t something you want to do, even if you could. You’re sure the sickly young man’s own body grows more worn the longer he keeps bucking and thrusting against you. Each time he comes, there’s less and less of his ejaculate, and his subsequent thrusting slows to a point that you can tell he’s forcing himself to keep going hard enough that it’s taking a toll on him.

Even you got tired at some point with the drug. You’d become aware of your body’s exhaustion, despite wanting desperately to keep going and doing so for the sake of feeling good. You’re sure that the worker’s ignoring his own body screaming at him to stop. Maybe earlier he felt remorse for having to do this to you, but you’re sure that if there were any part of him that was still human then, it’s completely gone now.

You feel like you’re going to go deaf at some point with how long you’ve heard his heavy breaths sounding so close by your ear. The warmth of the air he expels hits the tears on your face and only makes you more aware of them. Despite the raging and ever-present fierce pain your body is riddled with, you can no longer bring yourself to cry after a certain point. All you do is lay there, letting your body go numb. What Lucius must be thinking by now you have no idea, but you refuse to look his way anymore.

The vocal silence of the worker is horrifying. All he does is breathe from his open maw or from between his gritted teeth. You’re fucked largely in a panting silence, with the loud sloshing and squelching noises emitting from his unbridled rape of you being the only things to pierce through it.

At some point, you stop feeling much of anything anymore. You’re not sure if you’re tired, in shock, in pain, or frozen in fear. Maybe all of them at once. The initial shock of being pushed forcefully into had rendered you unable to process the pain right away, but now it almost feels as if you never had it to begin with. You’re not sure that’s a good thing.

The worker atop you starts to slow down exponentially. You have no clue how long you’ve been under him, taking his breaths and thrusts and cum. You can’t think anymore. You really don’t want to.

Despite everything, the worker eventually struggles to keep going. He certainly tries to, but his initial furious thrusts have now dwindled to slow grinding against your body. The drug’s influence bids the man to keep fucking you, yet his human limitation prevents him from continuing. It’s at this point that Lucius finally steps forward and forcefully tugs the worker off of you with one of his hands before tossing his body promptly aside. Limp, the worker falls to the floor and he continues to lay there, breathing heavily and shakily in recovery. His sudden exiting of you feels like nothing at this point. You almost don’t even realize he’s left you with how numb you are.

Upon letting the worker go, Lucius looks over at you and steps a bit closer to the side of your torso. His expression has not once changed. Even now, he seems amused, if only subtly so. He watches as your chest rises and falls with every sucking breath you make, watches as you lay there defeated and weary. You feel his fingers run along your wettened cheek as he curiously observes your empty expression. The tips of his digits are cold.

No words are exchanged between the two of you. Not like you could bring yourself to talk right now anyway with how out of it and empty you are. You can think of nothing. Your mind seems to be drawing blanks.

Your eyes weakly glide over to the worker on the floor. He’s finally begun to shift up, pushing off of his elbows and knees. He remains in this position a moment. You can clearly see him still affected by the drug. Even now he’s still hard and wet, still breathing eagerly for more. The sounds of his labored, hoarse breaths continue to fill the room.

Lucius’ dark eyes flicker then from you toward the worker. He says nothing to the man, but does not appear to watch him with either disgust or amusement. He allows the muted worker to try rising to his feet, but the exhaustion that’s swept over him is so intense that he struggles to. He merely looks down at the floor while on his elbows and knees. You can see a bit of drool seeping out from his mouth and onto the floor as he breathes.

Your eyes wander over to Lucius’ other hand. The familiar silver thing in his grasp doesn’t immediately register in your mind with your inability to properly focus after what you’ve been put through. Lucius sees your mindless observing of his pistol from the corner of his eye. He quietly flashes you a smile before picking his arm up and aiming at the worker.

Before the man on the floor can even pick up his head, Lucius pulls the trigger of his gun and fires into it.

Chapter 63: Sympathy

A splash of warm water hits your head and back, shaking you from your restless thoughts. You hear the sounds of water sloshing about as it settles in the walls of the tub surrounding you, and promptly after this you’re met with a forearm with a rolled-up sleeve and a washcloth that are both brought past the left side of your head, toward your face. The thing radiates with a strong musky scent that leads you to believe it’s been doused in some kind of body wash or soap.

“Scrub yourself,” Lucius’ voice commands from behind you. “I won’t have you make me do everything. It’s not my fault you react so frightfully to the sight of death.”

Death…?

That’s right. You just watched someone die, didn’t you? That’s why your hands won’t stop shaking. You couldn’t really process it then. Even now, you can’t really believe what just happened. You don’t entirely remember what took place between watching the worker get shot to death and being dragged into the bathroom by Lucius. You remember freezing at the sight of blood pooling on the floor and at the sounds of the struggling breaths and voiceless gurgles of the worker as he laid there, twitching.

It’s almost as if you blinked and ended up here, despite not being put out once. You think Lucius unchained you and dragged you away at some point after calling other workers to the room to clean the mess.

Is it wrong that you didn’t react with more tears like you had before? The worker fell and bled out so much like Jay. The sight of his blood pooling around his body only made the vision of her being killed flash in your mind. Even then, all you really did in response was freeze and blank out. You couldn’t bring yourself to move or speak or scream or cry at that point.

You’re so tired already. Everything’s sore.

All things considered, you feel empty.

“Come on,” Lucius urges you, his voice stern. “Wash up. You needed a bath anyway.”

In silence, you pluck the wettened, soapy washcloth from Lucius’ hand and tiredly begin to rub it against your neck.

It’s warm.

The sensation would be welcome on your skin if you weren’t so out of it. You’re still stuck on trying to process the sensations you endured upon observing worker’s death. You should be crying right now, and you aren’t. You should be groveling, angry, something. You feel nothing. Not even tears fall, even though you know they ought to.

Mindlessly you rub and rub at the same spot until you realize that it’s starting to burn because of how much repetitive friction there is against the flesh at your nape. When you pull back your hand from your neck, however, you are able to see more clearly how much you’re trembling. You place the washcloth defeatedly in the water and stare at your open palms, watching as they continue to relentlessly quake.

You gasp slightly at the feeling of Lucius’ fingers digging into your scalp, scrubbing at it furiously.

“Hurry up,” he orders you. “I’d prefer you not dawdle so much. This bath isn’t some treat for you.”

You pick up the washcloth that’s drifting about on the surface of the water. The odor it emitted prior is still lingering strongly in the air. Its scents smell more suited for a man. You figure The Overseer doesn’t stock sweet-smelling soaps since he has no reason to expect a woman in his room. Not like it really matters how you smell here.

You wonder how he’ll react to Lucius’ killing of a worker. No doubt the man will see footage of the worker entering, or read a report from Lilah who now has even more work to do. Or he’ll just be told outright. Either way, he’ll know. Perhaps Lucius was making no attempts to really hide his actions. But even so, The Overseer has no reason to be against the killing of a useless worker. Lucius has only but to lie about what he told you. Anything else hardly matters.

It’s difficult to really think about what was said in the room just before this. You’re aware of what’s happened and that it’s bad, but you’re struggling to really focus that much on anything in particular right now. Or, at the very least, you’re focusing on little things that hardly matter. Perhaps in an attempt to put things out of your mind or distract yourself. You do dearly want to shut this all away while you’re still able to, but you know that probably won’t happen so soon.

With still-trembling hands, you clean off the rest of yourself, your movements a bit sluggish. You remain largely unexpressive and weary throughout this process. Only when you open your legs slightly and let your washcloth covered hand reach toward your inner thighs do you suddenly recoil and suck in breath through your teeth. There’s a stinging sensation in your lower body that shocks your senses and brings you back into some temporary awareness.

Lucius rinses your hair off and leans to the side a bit from his perched place on the edge of the tub to try examining your profile.

“Surely it wasn’t that bad,” he remarks with a frown. “But I suppose if it doesn’t go down in the next few days, you’ll have to see Monica again. I’ll have to find a good enough reason for it if he asks, but it shouldn’t be any problem. He won’t exactly reject a chance to get you away from him for a moment, but he will expect there to be a good timeframe or reason to have it done.”

You say nothing, dropping your hand again and letting it rest on the floor of the tub in the water after your pain subsides. Lucius orders you to rise after he’s done rinsing you off, though you can’t bring yourself to. You just don’t feel like moving.

Annoyed, Lucius drags your wet body out of the tub and throws you onto the floor. The pain again sharply stings at you, but you can do nothing to stop it. After a moment, Lucius procures a large towel, which he tosses your way.

“Dry yourself,” he firmly orders you, wiping his hand on a hand towel of his own before tossing it in the nearby hamper. He then heads out the door, muttering, “I’ve got to make sure the workers are done cleaning the mess I made.”

When the door shuts, you wearily grab the towel from its place on the floor beside you and shift with slow, careful motions to sit up, so as not to disturb your damaged body and cause even more pain to come.

You clutch the white thing tightly to your chest and stare down at the wettened surface of the ground. Water drips from the ends of your hair, and the wet strands stick to the sides of your face and back of your neck. Your hands continue to shake, though the trembling now extends to the rest of you.

Finally, you cry.

---

You’ve stopped having any kind of dreams. Not even nightmares. Maybe at first you had small visions of things you experienced or abstract images that you could discern as unreal and dreamlike, but after a while, you just find that you close your eyes and wake up in a different point in time, if in the same place. Everything bleeds together. Whether you’ve been here a few days or a few weeks, or perhaps even a few months, it makes no difference. You don’t know.

Your lower body, namely your pubic region and vagina, remain sore. Painfully so, in fact. You have bouts where you wind up having to grit your teeth and ride the waves of pain you wake up to. Shuffling around on the bed isn’t exactly an option. You’re too afraid to move.

Evidently Lucius doesn’t think your apparent pain is all that serious if he can’t be bothered to seek Monica right away. Even when he watches your episodes out of the corner of his eye, he shows no concern. Obviously, he wouldn’t let you needlessly die, but he’s allowing you to suffer further. Every wave of pain only reminds you of what you were trying to forget.

Lucius probably anticipated this. He wants you to remain miserable. It’s a game for him.

All you can do, as always, is lay there on your side, remaining in place even when your arm gets numb, and only moving it when you must. You wonder if Jade felt the way you do or if it was even worse. You’re starting to get more sluggish yourself. Your mind is washed with an endless fog that won’t clear up no matter what you do. You can still talk and think like normal. You just struggle to.

You‘re forced to remember the worker’s crumpled body on the floor whenever you see the curtain kept open to expose the room to you. Even when you want to move away to avoid seeing the area, you refuse to in order to avoid the pain that this brings you.

Perhaps the information you got wasn’t worth it at all. But you don’t want to add a layer of guilt to your misery on top of everything else, so you try not to think hard on this. You’re at least glad that man doesn’t have to suffer a bit longer. He’s free of this place. One day you will be too.

Will you end up a worker, you wonder? Perhaps it’s a good thing they lose their memory. Remembering your friends while being confined to a servile fate would be horrible. Would you see them if you were a worker? Would you recognize them at all?

Are any of the workers you’ve seen part of the previous group? Or has enough time passed to where they’re dead? You’re not sure either answer would satisfy you.

Jade’s lucky she evaded such a fate. To continue to exist when you want only to die…how horrible. You wouldn’t want that for anyone. After having been faced with the reality of your fate, you finally accept that death was the better option for her no matter what. If you ever sink as low as her, maybe it’ll be an option for you too.

“You shouldn’t think like that,” Cyrus would probably tell you. Lav might say the same, maybe more outright and defensive against your self-defeat. And Eight…you aren’t sure how he’d react seeing you like this. Sympathetic, if in his own way. But a song can’t fix you right now.

You’re glad the rest of the Numbers other than those three are more oblivious to certain things. They can be grounded, but even they have their limits, you know. Despite your opinions against the coupling of the twins, you hope dearly that they really appreciate that they have one another. Five and Six as well. They have no idea what awaits them in the future. Even if the girls are unable to get pregnant, if they outlast their usefulness in their group and survive another dose of whatever drug The Overseer uses on you all, then they’ll probably become workers too.

Not everyone in your group seems like they could really survive such a process. But maybe that’d be a good thing. It pains you to think of your friends dying in this place, but the reality of it has sunken in far more than it ever could when you didn’t know what you know now. That only makes your misery more potent, but perhaps it’s better you endure it and not anyone else. Even Cyrus doesn’t know a lot of this, and you could never imagine he’d be able to take it even with how much he’s tried to build himself up. Even Lav and Eight might struggle with the information. They’re strong, but not invincible. Nobody is.

How are they all doing, anyway? You wish you knew. At least, you find it better to focus on this than whatever memory of the dead worker there is that tries to hijack your brain in every waking moment.

In part, you feel guilty knowing you’ve gone and disappeared again on your friends. How much they must be worried. You also don’t want to be offended that they’d move on from you if they had to. They have a reason to put those things out of their mind. They’ve all lost people. You can understand that they don’t want to think about it while still trying not to forget who you were to them. Memory is funny that way. So too is grief.

Strangely, your mind wanders back to Yosuke. He would probably be upset if he saw you like this. You’re so out of it you’d even be willing to put up with him again if it meant getting away from Lucius. How a man like him can make Yosuke look like a saint in comparison, you can’t understand. Nor do you really know what on earth compels Lucius and his boss to be so horrible.

The Overseer is far drier in his style of what you’d call “evil”. Lucius, on the other hand, is gleeful in his observance and infliction of his victims’ suffering. Like some kind of demon poking at someone relentlessly for no reason other than his own enjoyment, while the devil sits and watches intently at the display. Unfortunately, Yosuke, no matter how angry he’d be, could do nothing about your incessant torture.

You question whether or not he was aware of Jade’s situation. You aren’t really even sure when he came to the facility, or what it is he really knows. You figured he was kept out of the loop on a lot of things that go on down here because his place is primarily aboveground. Again, it irks you that both he and you share that quality: not knowing. He has no qualms about it. Only you seem to.

How The Overseer greatly underestimated the man’s sanity you aren’t quite sure. Yosuke does seem like he can be well-rounded and smart about things, but he’s shown how uncouth he can be in the face of his obsessiveness. Perhaps he won’t ever be quite as unhinged as Mom, but he’s certainly flawed like her.

If Yosuke has no clue about Jade, you wonder if the other doctors do. Were any of them friends with Richard, her doctor? Did they have any qualms about his disappearance? Did they even know what befell him? And, if so, did they straighten up in fear of the same happening to them?

You can’t imagine that The Overseer doesn’t keep them in line with threats like that. Perhaps the obedience of the other doctors comes in part from a fear of severe repercussions. Lucius had suggested fear has a role in obedience, after all. But then, why are Lilah and Mom so supposedly disobedient? Even Nathaniel’s done a few things he shouldn’t. Do they no longer have that fear? Or even respect for The Overseer?

Of course, they’ve all done this sort of thing behind the back of their boss where possible, like they’re tired of protocol while begrudgingly following it otherwise. Only Mom is unapologetic about her disobedience. And as far as Lilah is concerned, it sounds like The Overseer finds her wiles annoying while still looking other way to it. You aren’t sure why. You still wonder why she reacted the way she did to seeing you here the first day you came. Does she have an attachment to her boss? Or is she familiar with him?

More time passes, and you again think of Jade. This only makes you aware of your state once more. You wonder every moment that passes if you’ve become pregnant from what you endured. Every instance since your last visit with Monica has left you unnerved about the possibility. You’d been so focused on the pain of being used by the worker that you neglected to focus on the fear of impregnation to the fullest extent with the distraction the pain brought you. Now that your ordeal is over, the latter again takes hold in your mind.

Now and again, you reach down to your lower abdomen and press against it, trying to see if you can feel any kind of abnormality there that would give you an answer. Each time, the flesh sinks in just the same. There’s never anything there to indicate that you’re carrying. But you really have no idea how it works anyway. You don’t know what to expect.

Eventually, you find that the Overseer’s finally returned from wherever he’s been, donning his suit and lugging a lab coat on his arm, much to your surprise. You don’t know if it’s been a day or several, but he looks rugged and exhausted when he steps into the room. Moreso than usual. The bags under his eyes are even heavier than you remember them being. Even his hair is a bit disheveled. But the moment you see him, the curtain is again drawn by Lucius, and you’re left behind the veil. At least now you’re safe, even if for a moment.

You hear Lucius filling his superior in on things that have occurred since he was gone, while the heavier, more solid cabinet is opened, presumably so that The Overseer can put his things away. You can’t fathom where the man might have been, but you soon hear the familiar tapping noises of buttons on the console after another brief moment that indicates someone’s skimming cams. You’re left to wonder how The Overseer will react to Lucius’ actions.

“I heard Lilah complaining about having to deal with another body,” The Overseer remarks. “I presume that was your doing?”

“Yes sir,” Lucius does not bother to hide this. You suspected this would be the case. “C1, our weakest. I figured I’d make room for one of the selects since he wasn’t of much help as of late in his dwindling state.”

The key presses stop, and there’s a lengthy pause. You figure either the hardened blond man is thinking to himself, or he’s observing the feed intently.

“I see.” The Overseer’s voice lowers when he finally responds. “Lucius, do be more careful with these things. I entertain your carelessness in certain moments, but remember that we’re in no position for mistakes or hindrances at this time. I have too much to deal with as it is with you busy here.”

“Understood. My apologies.”

Is that it? Is there something you’re missing? You know Lucius had said his boss is fairly lenient with him, but he seems to have gotten off scot free. You’re not even sure if The Overseer understands the full scope of what happened. Granted, what it was that Lucius had divulged to you remains under wraps. But for the boss to not further question or acknowledge Lucius’ careless bringing of a worker to this room, nor his consequent killing of him is too odd.

“I suppose in that case, there’s hardly a need for neither you nor I to indulge in another unnecessary autopsy review, is there?” The Overseer speaks up to his associate. “Though doubtless Lilah will try to use the excuse of delivering the report as an opportunity to come bark at me again over our insufferable guest.”

“I could easily have her disappear for a little while so that you can handle it,” Lucius suggests. “The girl, I mean. Lilah I can’t much do anything about.”

“You could give her even more work and keep her busy.”

“Is that an order?”

“A casual remark, Lucius. Have you lost your ability to distinguish my tone as well?”

Lucius gives a bit of a subtle laugh. “No, sir. Forgive me, but you’ve always been fairly hard to read.”

The Overseer grows quiet and gives a long-drawn inhale, followed by an equally slow exhale. There’s a familiar clothy shuffling noise, followed by the same light ping of the man opening and subsequently flicking his lighter. Soon the room smells of the same smoke you’ve been inhaling now and again.

“It’s excruciating doing my tasks without you present,” he finally remarks. The sounds of tapping on the metal console faintly resonate in the room. You figure he’s tapping his finger. “I’ve gotten far too accustomed to your assistance in social situations. I’m no performer. Donning the lively face of a well-rounded business owner like a common fool is a chore of a façade. Nathaniel’s prior suggestions have done little to assuage that.”

“Are you regretting your word?” Lucius questions curiously. The Overseer takes another drag of his cigarette and blows out with a long breath.

“No,” he refutes this. “I won’t live with any kind of regret. It’s pointless to. I’ve made my decision and I will handle it, if complaining all the while. I envy your patience.”

“Boss?”

The Overseer again starts to sift through the cameras, his finger slowly tapping at the buttons on the console, one by one. “Consider it a compliment. Now, is there anything else I need to know? Or shall I parse prior footage on my own another time?”

“No sir. Nothing of note. Though…”

“Out of my hair?” The Overseer supposes what Lucius is about to suggest. “I see no reason for her to leave.”

You figure he means you. The Overseer gives another long sigh.

“I do have to deal with replacements anyway,” he remarks with annoyance in his voice. “Another task on my endless list. As it is, I’ve yet to get to the nurse. Now I need a cleaner, too. Procedure I can handle myself, though I could use your assistance in extracting a Select. You know how they like to fight back. I’m sure you’ve been aching for time off from your unsavory task.”

“A little.”

The Overseer takes another drag-and-exhale. “What would you have her do?”

“I think it best to have her see Monica again,” Lucius answers his superior promptly. “She’s been complaining of aches.”

“Unsupervised? Out of the question,” The Overseer refuses him. “It’s better we drug her and move on.”

They’re talking so casually about you, as if you’re not there or even awake. You’re invisible. Normally that’d be a good thing, but right now it makes you feel like shit.

“We could easily lock them together,” Lucius suggests an alternative. His tone indicates no eagerness, but you’re sure he’s pining for this option. “Until we’re ready to collect her again. Should anything of note be said, it wouldn’t be difficult to punish Monica for it. That would give us a chance to put things in perspective for her.”

“I’m sure she’ll do as asked, if she’s actually reminded,” The Overseer supposes. “If she’s not restricted off the bat, she’ll be chatty. What an unfortunate affliction. I have no patience for it.”

He skims a few more times through the cameras while sucking in another breath from the cigarette no doubt between his lips right now. Again, he exhales. Lucius remains silent as his superior contemplates this.

“I personally don’t see the need to risk it. But if she’s injured, so be it.”

He’s not even questioning why you might be. Maybe he knows the things Lucius does behind his back, or maybe he doesn’t much care because he’s so trusting of the man to keep himself in line otherwise. You scowl, even though nobody can see your face. The flesh by your cheek rubs against the pillow as your face morphs in a twisted frustration. Though, in part, it’s twisted because of another wave of pain that comes so suddenly.

You hear The Overseer take one last long drag of his cigarette before he snuffs it out on his crystal ashtray. Once he’s finished, his footsteps resonate toward you. This is followed by his prompt pulling back of the curtain. Your body jumps a bit at his action, but you refuse to look the man in the eye. He merely glances down at you with his grey eyes and frowns.

“What’s with that look?” He questions unsatisfactorily. “Are you mad?”

You say nothing and merely wrap your arms around yourself again while you lay on your side. However, your eyes sharply jerk down when you feel The Overseer’s dry hand brush against and promptly grip your thigh. He pulls your leg up, causing you to grit your teeth again at the stinging, sore pain the action of shifting brings you. The man glances down a moment then subtly glowers.

“Lucius, you know how much I don’t like when you do this,” he comments sourly. “Now I see why you were so insistent.”

“Again, I do apologize,” is Lucius’ only casual response. He makes no attempts to hide what he did, nor does he beg for forgiveness. He merely gives this one line of dialogue, and somehow it’s enough for his boss. The Overseer simply exhales a bothered breath from his nose and drops your leg.

“Call for Monica and another nurse, then take the girl,” he commands his associate, dropping the subject of Lucius’ disobedience entirely after accepting it quietly. He promptly leaves your side and moves to the medicine cabinet to pull out a cuff and a syringe from one of its drawers. The cuff he places aside a moment, while he fills the syringe from a bottle on one of the shelves. “Meet me in the other wing when you’re ready. I’ll have a worker stand by just in case.”

He pauses a moment while facing the door, then turns his head slightly to look at Lucius from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t want her visits with Monica to become a habit,” he says sharply. “I expect this to be the last one. Don’t do this again.”

Lucius’ dark eyes look at you for just a moment before he again turns his attention to his boss. He subtly smiles and gives an obedient nod.

“Yes, sir.”

Once The Overseer has gone with his needle and his cuff, and only after the doors have completely shut, Lucius laughs to himself.

“It’s that easy, isn’t it?” He remarks to you. “Even when I’m in trouble, I’m perfectly fine. Perhaps he pities my position right now enough not to make a fuss about my actions. In any case, it’s not the actions we need to worry about.”

He puts a long finger to his lips and smirks. “Is it?”

You say nothing, but furrow your brows while staring at the man scornfully. He remains unbothered by your expression and merely comes toward you to draw the curtain once more. Before he shuts you out, he says,

“Now be still a moment. I have to make another call.”

This call, you note, is also to Mom. Again, Lucius is forced to deal with her line of questioning. You presume she wants to know just why Monica’s being kept so busy again, and as of late.

“Don’t fuss over it,” is Lucius’ stern reply to the garbled words you can hear off his phone. “We have no time for chatter.”

You wonder how angry he’d be if you yelled out to try having Mom hear you. She’s not exactly someone you want to deal with, but maybe having another doctor know you’re here would lead to them speaking about you to someone else. And, by chance, maybe one of the Numbers would overhear such a conversation and know you’re alive.

If only.

Yelling isn’t something you much have the energy for right now. You’ve remained still on your side this entire time, wearily resting your head against your measly pillow. How The Overseer is ever able to rest on this thing you have no clue.

Between the confinement and the abuse and watching a man die, you’re not feeling up to much of anything at all. Even now you can’t shake the image of the worker’s sullen face. You’d glimpsed it just slightly before pain and shock took hold of his profile. He’d writhed on the floor in much the same manner as Jay. You never wanted to remember anyone like that again.

Suddenly, the door to the room is heard opening. You have no idea whether you’d spaced out, or if Lucius called for a worker between now and his call with Mom had come that quickly. Nonetheless, you’re again exposed when the dark-haired man draws the curtain.

Strangely, there’s no nurse like you expect. Instead, Lucius has a tray of food in his hands that was likely delivered. You suppose, then, that the nurse will arrive at the exam room rather than trail along like last time. Maybe that’s for the best.

“You should eat before you go,” Lucius remarks as he looks down at you. “You’ll be with her for a while with what we have to do. Sit up.”

You know you need to move. You know you have to. But it’s difficult to make your body do what you want all of a sudden. You just don’t want to bother. Even so, you try to do as asked as carefully as possible so as not to provoke another wave of pain. Your only motivation for forcing yourself to act is the fear of retaliation.

All the while you rise, you refuse to look Lucius’ way. You don’t want to gaze upon his pale face, nor do you want to accidentally have one of his pistols in your sight. Further remembering what happened and what he did is something you’d like to avoid. It’s enough that it still lingers in your mind now.

“Make it quick,” Lucius orders, placing the tray in your lap. “He’ll be expecting me soon.”

You aren’t hungry in the least. The food on your tray looks like it might be appetizing, whatever it is. Warm and inviting by the way it steams. But looking on it now hardly compels you to taste it. You just want to lay back down.

Lucius watches in annoyance as you poke and prod at the dish with your fork without touching it. Impatient, he grabs the utensil from your hand and grips your jaw with his other hand. He forces a bit of the dish into your mouth so suddenly and so deeply that you start to cough and choke.

“I’ll not have you starve yourself,” Lucius bitterly remarks as he stuffs another forkful of food into your mouth. Once you start to tap on his arm desperately in an attempt to have him release you so you can gather your breath, he finally does so. He drops the fork angrily onto the plate atop the tray, the glass making a loud clattering noise.

“You’ll die on our terms, not yours,” Lucius tells you sternly. “Eat quickly. I won’t feed you like a child.”

You swallow whatever food is in your mouth and gasp for air. As you inhale, you see Lucius watching you expectantly. Not wanting him to be forceful any further, you shakily bring the fork from your mouth back down to your plate and try to eat. So shaken by the ordeal, your vision struggles to focus and even blurs a bit. Even so, you try to eat what you were given. Like before, the only thing that helps is pretending Charlie made this dish especially for you.

Unfortunately, thinking of him only again leads you to remembering the worker, despite your attempts to avoid this. As you had with Jay’s death, the sudden reminder of blood and death only nauseates you. A few times, you have to hold your mouth shut with one hand to keep yourself from throwing up. You can’t bring yourself to keep eating, but Lucius again insists that you do.

The meal doesn’t much last long. At some point, you force yourself to finish it quickly as instructed, stuffing heaps and heavy forkfuls of food in your mouth just so that you can get out of here quicker. Your trust in Monica is scarce, but a friendly face is direly needed. Even if it’ll be the last time you get to see her until your confinement ends, you could use another break.

Once you’re done, the same protocol follows: a worker comes to collect the tray, you are cuffed tightly, and your shackles are unlocked.

“Can you stand?” Lucius asks you. His tone is void of any kindness. He’s asking you with an undertone of sternness. You aren’t sure you can rise, but try to. You hesitantly move to swing your calves over the side of the bed, but again feel the stinging pain between your legs and grit your teeth in response. The wave of pain is brief, luckily. Nonetheless, Lucius isn’t pleased to see your reaction.

He sighs. “You’re a dependent thing. Fine. I suppose I’ll be a little courteous in light of your issue.”

“I-I can walk,” you finally mutter and refuse him. Lucius raises a brow.

“You’re speaking now?” He comments dryly. “How selective. No, I’m not wasting any more time with you right now. Let’s go.”

He wastes no time lifting you up on his own and ferrying you in his arms. Your cuffed limbs hang loosely behind you, toward the floor as they had when you first came here. Lucius’ touch of you is stiffer than Yosuke’s, so far as you can really remember. He almost holds you as if he’d prefer to drop you.

Not once did it ever cross your mind that you’d start to miss the feeling of a touch like Yosuke’s. You still hate the man, but by comparison, he’s less cruel. Forced to choose between the two, you’d rather be fawned over and only occasionally hurt than consistently hurt without even a bit of “comfort” to compensate. You suppose anyone would choose the same.

At least Yosuke’s only been firm with you when he thinks he has to be. Lucius is just sadistic. Nonetheless, it hurts you further knowing you’ve finally reached the point where even you sort of miss your doctor. You hate being babied, but you’ll take it over being abandoned behind a curtain in an old bed. Yosuke wouldn’t kill someone so gleefully, you don’t think. He only acts when he’s provoked. Right?

The need to lean against Lucius’ chest for support disgusts you, but you wind up doing so anyway. Your eyes don’t really focus on anything in particular, and again the ringing in your ears persists. After having another gunshot sound off so close to you, it’s no wonder that you’re experiencing the sensation again.

You’re tired of the noise.

Passing by all the rooms in the halls again, the scenery all blends together. All you can really fathom is blurs of white and grey. Being here only reminds you of the sight of the nurse being punched in the gut by Lucius. You suppose a man like that feels powerful hurting others, the same way the doctors do when they rape you repeatedly. Even he does the same to the workers, an image which is no less disturbing than the one of the sickly workers themselves. The only difference between the other doctors’ abuse of you and Lucius’ abuse of the workers is that they can’t even scream.

If the nurses endure what you did recently, you can’t fathom how they must feel. You hate hurting like this after one occasion. To feel that pain consistently sounds unimaginable.

“They don’t feel the pain of being here after a while.”

Lucius’ voice resonates in your mind. It’s baffling how a man like him can exist, how he can gleefully do what he does without remorse, without a second thought. He and The Overseer are abysmal.

You can’t place what would turn men so evil. Once more, you ponder it. Were they born that way? Or were they once ever kind men? You don’t think them the type to ever have been “normal”. But even Yosuke had been once, supposing the story about his childhood he gave you was true. Just an innocent boy who played sports and enjoyed a variety of other pleasant pastimes. A normal boy.

How does such a boy grow up to become such a cruel man?

Upon wearily shifting your eyes up to look at Lucius, whose focus is straight ahead, you struggle to picture him as anything but a man. There must have been a time when he wasn’t scarred or pierced, or a time when he wasn’t any good with weapons. The same with The Overseer, you’re sure. They must have been boys once too. They couldn’t have always been this morally corrupt.

Did they ever dream they’d be doing this kind of thing? Do they even have regrets about it?

No. You realize that’s a foolish question.

“I won’t live with any kind of regret. It’s pointless to,” The Overseer had said earlier. Granted, you wonder how true that is for him. You can’t imagine accepting being at the helm of such a depraved operation was easy. There can’t possibly be people that apathetic about life’s cruelty, or about being cruel themselves. Even someone like Eight has a heart despite his difficulty connecting with others. It’s just taken him a long time to open it up to you even a little.

Eight…The Overseer had complimented him the first day you were confined. Even if it was subtle, it still took you aback that he did. He’s not the type to speak positively of anyone. Any time you’ve heard him talk about anyone else, it’s always been in disdain or disapproval. You wonder just what it’s like to genuinely be complimented by the man.

And his face—he doesn’t smile, but has implied that he does for people upstairs. Even Yosuke mentioned he does. It’s difficult to picture a guy like the boss with a smile on his face. Even when you try, all you can really see is Lucius’ smug profile.

Thinking of this makes you shut your eyes In an attempt to shut out the awful image of that man’s cold smile. You hate it. Every time you see It now, all you can think of is the worker, both relentlessly pumping into you and being shot in the head. You just want to move past what happened. But unlike before, you have nobody to help you through this and are completely on your own. Nobody can save you. Maybe you can, but you’re not sure just how. Especially not now.

You remember Cyrus mentioning this process before. Sometimes it’s better to let things out before you attempt to build yourself back up. You hope you can hold tightly to his words. You want to try.

After a while of quiet, you reach the same exam room and are ferried in by Lucius. The bright light of the room again temporarily blinds you after so long of being in the dark, and once more, you’re met with Monica. This time, she’s in the middle of rummaging through a cabinet, though the chair in the room has been prepared for you ahead of time. There’s another nurse here like last time, standing beside Monica patiently at the cabinet’s open door. You aren’t sure which one it is.

The sprightly doctor turns her head to look at you, her loose-hanging earrings swinging about with the movement. She smiles at you as she has before, her warm smile.

“Back again so soon?” She asks livelily, slightly jesting. When you don’t bother responding, she then frowns a bit and trails her brown eyes along your body a moment before returning her gaze to your tired face. Lucius doesn’t hesitate to drop you in the chair. He doesn’t at all address you after this, turning his attention to Monica instead once his arms are free.

“Check her,” he orders the woman. “She may need medicine for her pain, but do make sure it isn’t anything serious. We’re going to be locking you in while we take care of something.”

“You’re leaving us alone?” Monica questions with surprise. “Completely? Are you sure?”

“Give me a reason to doubt you and you’ll hear it from him,” Lucius warns. “Do your job. Document as needed. If you’re insistent on your chatter, then keep the conversation light.”

He gives the woman no further warning and promptly walks out of the room. He’s unusually sterner with the woman than before, though you’re sure he’s none too pleased to have had to deal with you as well. Though, that’s not at all your fault when he’s the one who created his own extra work. He has no right to complain.

The moment the double doors close, there’s a pause before they promptly lock as they have before. Even with Lucius gone, you remain unsettled and displeased. The nurse, like before, undoes your cuff when prompted to by Monica. You still remain unsure whether it’s the same person, but you’re in no mood to deal with any other workers right now. You merely lay against the back of the chair once your hands are free and curl yourself up in your own embrace. The pain between your legs lingers even now, but you move carefully when you must to avoid triggering it. Otherwise, you keep completely still.

“Ten, I’m glad to see you again,” Monica attempts to remain chipper. She moves to wash her hands, but notes that you don’t answer her. Rather than push for a lively conversation, she comes back to you with a pair of gloves and puts them on. “Doctor Marcellus mentioned pain of some kind?”

When you don’t answer, she tilts her head and frowns.

“Ten,” She calls to you. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you properly if you don’t talk to me about what’s going on. If you’re embarrassed, don’t worry! I promise, this is purely professional like last time, okay? As long as we’re in this room.”

“And out of it…?” You question with a persistent weariness. Monica sighs lightly.

“Let’s worry about that later, alright?” She suggests. “Doctor Marcellus was vague about your issue like last time, so I have to rely on you alone to help me out. I can’t make you feel better if you don’t speak up.”

You look down.

“I’m sore,” you finally admit. “It hurts to move around.”

“Sore?” Monica muses. “Down there, I assume?”

This is embarrassing. Why, you’re not sure. You’ve been naked this whole time, and used consistently during your confinement at the facility. It shouldn’t bother you to do this kind of thing. And being open for the sake of getting some medical relief from your suffering is something you should look forward to and want, right?

It was one thing to have the chipper woman examine your stomach. It’s another to be honest and open about your body to someone who hasn’t really been coupled with you yet—someone who will be later. No doubt she’ll want you to open your legs for her to look at you. It’s a bit more personal than you’d like.

Not really wanting to verbalize your answer, you merely nod. Monica makes a long “hmm” noise as she exhales, then adjusts the back of your chair to how it was when Nathaniel was examining you, the lower elevation making it easier for your legs to reach the sides of your chair where the grooved pedals are. This, you expected. But being awake for the examination isn’t something you’re exactly eager about. The doctors are right to put you out for such things when they’re this awkward.

It’s also difficult to transition from the image of someone fucking you against your will to that very same person treating you like a patient, like your doctor, Gale, Micah, and Nathaniel have. Even moreso, it’s awkward to deal with Monica knowing that she’s only being nice now, and could easily be monstrous as a visitor. You don’t know what to expect on that front.

Nonetheless, you shyly spread your legs for the woman and let her do her job. With both feet on either pedal, you look away while Monica examines you closely. She only barely touches your labia and vagina before you again recoil and suck in pained breath through your teeth.

Monica frowns again, thoughtfully so. “It’s very red. You must have gone through quite a bit for it to be this bad. How long did he use you? Did he take breaks? Did he use lubrication?”

You grip the flesh of your upper arms tightly and scowl.

“It wasn’t him,” you want to say. But you don’t want to deal with the questions this would raise if you did. Instead, you mutter,

“It lasted a while. I don’t know how long. But he entered me dry and by force.”

Saying these words aloud makes you nauseous, and your fingers more tightly sink into your flesh by your upper arms as the sensory memory of what you were put through surfaces in your mind. Your face twists slightly in unease.

Monica steps back from you and folds her arms. Her brows lower a bit in some thoughtful manner, though she overall looks displeased.

“What exactly happened?”

You shake your head subtly. “I don’t want to talk about it. I really don’t.”

“I’m assuming it was a difficult ordeal,” Monica supposes, shifting her brown eyes up as she thinks more. “But if you don’t want to bring it up, then alright. We’ll focus on you right now. For the moment, I think we can use-“

She subtly jumps at the sudden interruption of the nurse coming to her side with a tube of something in her hands. Even you’re taken aback by her emergence, since you hadn’t even noticed her leaving to retrieve anything.

Monica breathes a sigh of relief upon the fright passing.

“Don’t scare me like that!” She laughs, taking the thing from the nurse’s hands. She looks down at it with surprise, and remarks, “Again, you nurses know just what I need. Thank you!”

Unlike before, the nurse doesn’t bow or make any other indication of a gesture. She merely drops her hands.

Monica then turns her attention toward you and smiles again. “This gel will help numb the pain for now. It’s topical and perfectly safe to put between your legs, as long as it’s just over the skin. I also think it’s best I give you some pills to take with each meal, just so that what you have doesn’t become an infection. I should be running thorough tests to see what specifically the issue might be, but I highly doubt those men will allow it. That requires lab work that some of the other doctors would have to handle.”

“They don’t want anyone else knowing I’m here,” you remark, confirming the woman’s supposition. Monica nods, acknowledging this.

“Anyway, as far as I can tell from looking you over, it’s not too serious. If your only symptom is pain and nothing more, then I’m not all that worried.”

“I’m sure Lucius will love having to take care of me even more,” you bitterly retort in response to this news.

Monica tilts her head just slightly. “Will it give you a little more freedom if I insist he let you take the medication and use the gel on your own? I’m sure he lets you use the restroom on your own at least, right? You can do it then.”

“It would barely help,” you answer her plainly, still avoiding eye contact with the woman. Instead, you fixate on the nurse. She again remains standing beside Monica, waiting patiently. Her clothed arms remain placed at her sides, and she’s standing perfectly still. The mannerisms, though subtle, are not quite like the nurse you saw last time. You can’t exactly remember if it’s at all like the first nurse you met, though.

Perhaps the mannerisms themselves are how the doctors distinguish between the lot of the nurses. You wonder just how many there are. The highest number you’ve heard thus far is four. Perhaps there’s ten workers just as there are ten Numbers. Maybe then, there’s also ten Letters. As for any other groups, you have no clue. The Overseer and Lucius referred to “selects”, but you have no idea if they mean individuals dwelling in the real world that they have listed off for reference, or a specific group they have confined for the purpose of using its members as workers. Either option is horrible.

Again, it strikes you as strange how ready the nurses are to fill Monica’s whims without her needing to verbalize them. They must be used to this kind of procedure, then. Is it because they’ve been with Nathaniel before and are just carrying out the same work for another person? Your only other idea is that the nurses are somehow familiar with Monica, but…that doesn’t seem right…

You again turn away and return to the conversation. “I guess it’s something, though.”

Monica laughs softly. “Don’t worry about it, Ten. If you focus on the relief the medication will bring you, it’ll be a little less strenuous. Either way, try applying this yourself, okay?”

“You won’t do it yourself?” You question the chipper woman. She shakes her head and hands you the tube of gel.

“I’ve said it many times—I’m a doctor right now. If my patient feels most comfortable doing it themselves, then I’ll let them. I’ll just correct you verbally if I see you’re not applying it correctly.”

You blush with embarrassment. “So you’re going to watch. You must be happy getting to see me like this before you actually use me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Monica dismisses this with a shrug when you take the long white tube sheepishly from her. “And I won’t make comments like my colleagues. Okay? In spite of what opinions of you I may have.”

What opinions might those be? You’d be hard-pressed to ask so plainly, especially if they’re uncomfortable statements.

Hesitantly, you open up the tube and put a dab of the stuff on your fingers. Applying it in front of the chipper doctor is utterly shameful to you, but she does help you as promised. She warns you not to use too much and ultimately has to correct your procedure to ensure you’re applying the stuff right. Though the effects are not immediately felt, they stinging pain does go down slightly after a while. At the very least, it no longer hurts to shift around. You mainly just feel soreness, but a manageable kind of soreness. It’s nowhere near as stinging as the initial or subsequent pain. But even with that relief, your mood remains stagnant.

Once the ordeal over, you place your legs on the flat padded surface of the chair and hold the tube of medicated gel in your lap.

“Is that better?” Monica questions kindly, still smiling. You nod, prompting the woman to look upon you happily. “I’m glad. As for the pills…”

This time, she brings her forearm up and extends her palm behind her, awaiting the nurse’s response. Expectedly, the nurse returns to Monica’s side and gives her a bottle she’d fetched from the cabinet. Once more, you’d largely not noticed her departure in your business trying to apply the gel. But by now, Monica’s getting privy to the preparedness of the nurses. She even gives a bit of an “ah-hah!” look at the hooded woman once she grasps the pill bottle in her hand after anticipating it’d be placed there.

Monica pops open the top of the bottle, the whole of which isn’t all too large and is completely white except for one label with lots of text in small font. She hands you one single pill, while the nurse hands you water in a cup like the other nurse had last time. You wonder if the pills are the same kind as the ones you took prior. You can’t imagine they are, if they’re for something entirely different. In fact, the pill on your tongue now is far more bitter and salty than the one you had before. It’s even quite a lot larger. Swallowing it is a bit of a chore even with the huge gulp of water you chase it with.

“Just keep taking this after every meal and regularly applying that gel, and you should be better in no time,” Monica instructs you. She caps the bottle again and allows you to hold it yourself, along with the tube of gel you’ve by now placed in your lap. “You’re lucky it wasn’t more severe, but it was pretty bad.”

You don’t respond, and merely skim through the text on the bottle. Focusing on the words isn’t exactly easy, and none of them really makes sense to you. If they’re ingredients, they sound utterly foreign.

“I do wish I didn’t have to keep seeing you like this,” the woman beside you comments with a bit of concern in her voice. “I know I’ve only seen you twice, but you seem much less open all of a sudden. Compared to how you were when we met the first time, you’re much different. I know I’m not Gale, but are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t,” you remain firm. “You saw my body. That’s all you need to know. You can figure it out from there.”

“I may be a doctor, but even I can’t read minds,” Monica attempts to laugh. She stops, however, once she sees your unchanged expression. “Well, I am sorry. I’m sure it must have been scary since you’re worried about a potential pregnancy. But rest assured, we’ll do what we can to get you back to where you were if you do end up pregnant.”

“That’s not really reassuring,” you mutter. “The chances of things going wrong for me are still too much to ignore.”

“So you’re afraid.”

“I have every reason to be, Monica. You don’t understand what this is like. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. They sterilize you, don’t they? Yet they won’t with us.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want kids,” Monica raises a brow. Her response only confirms what Cyrus had mentioned way back when you first came to the facility. “I’m good with them, you know. I even used to take care of kids before I started doing work with women, back before I came here, and back when I was a little younger. I even wanted some of my own once! But such is the price I pay for a stable job. I don’t really regret it. I knew it came with the territory and accepted it.”

“Is that why you came here? Was this really just another job for you?” You demand in a rising anger. “I can’t understand why anyone would willingly come here if they know what this is.”

“Some people don’t usually know what they’re getting into,” is Monica’s blunt response. She frowns then, and looks down as she thinks a moment on your question. “I can’t really even remember the reason I bothered joining myself. Sometimes you just make decisions in the moment, I guess.”

“But you’re new,” you remind the woman warily. “How could you have already forgotten?”

Monica chuckles and dismisses this with a careless wave of her hand. “I’ve been here a little while, Ten. You only have known me for a short period, but I’ve spent a bit of time learning the ropes in this place. Behind the scenes, mainly. Only when I was a little bit more ready did my boss say I could be stationed where I needed to be. And even then, I had a lot to learn about the office. I’m adjusting pretty well now, actually!”

You look away upon hearing her last statement. Without you really having to ask, Monica notices the look on your face and continues to speak to you.

“They’re doing perfectly fine,” She gently assures you, answering your unspoken question. “But that’s all I’m allowed to say right now. I got a quiet note from my boss about being so open with you about what’s going on in your group and with your doctor last time I was.”

She pouts. “Among other things I was told. Anyway, I’m not exactly sure why he doesn’t want you to know. Yet he’s okay having you in a place where you’d find out more than you’d like.”

“He wants me miserable,” you mutter. “I don’t think I can really talk much about my end either. But he made it very clear he cares little about me and is willing to hurt me in all manner of ways if he so likes. He left me with an unsavory image of my friends. But even that hasn’t been enough to stop me from remembering them in a good way. I keep trying to, anyway.”

Monica smiles. “I’m glad. I know you think so little of me, but I do think sometimes those men can go too far with certain things.”

“And I think you won’t play as nice in the bedroom” you dismiss her kindness. “I said I don’t trust you. I’m sorry if you happened to actually be a good person once, but you’ve made your bed here.”

“I don’t really blame you for thinking of it that way.”

Despite her words, Monica seems a bit disheartened. Her eyes still remain fixated somewhere downward.

No. Upon further inspection, she doesn’t look at all downtrodden. She looks thoughtful. You’ve no idea why, or just what might be on her mind now.

Your eyes again flicker to the quiet nurse by Monica’s side. She’s not even really bothering to look your way, but you figure she knows you’re staring. Not like there’s much to look at other than the two other bodies in the room.

You can only imagine how the women must look under their uniform. For as little as you want to remember the worker’s weakened visage from before, you can’t help but see it right now. Lucius was unfortunately correct that the image would linger. No matter how much you try shutting it out, the sight remains present in your mind.

The workers must all look so healthy when they’re new to this place. You can’t imagine how much or how little time must pass before they transition into such a horrible state.

“Monica?” You call the doctor, shaking her from her thoughts. She blinks and looks at you in expectation for whatever it is you mean to say or ask. “Do you know this nurse?”

“Huh?” The woman’s brown brow raises. “Personally? No. We went over this last time, no?”

“You brushed it off last time,” you remind her. “You acted like it was just a whimsy convenience. I still feel like it’s strange. Were it just the one worker, maybe I’d understand. But I think this one’s different than the nurse last time, and yet she’s heeding you and acting just the same.”

Monica ponders this and looks up in thought. “They’re trained to, aren’t they?”

“You knew the other nurse’s number last time,” you continue pecking at this. “Despite not even having heard it before.”

“Lucky guess, maybe,” Monica shrugs this off as well. “I always knew the workers had a number and a letter. I also know how many of them there are. Acquainting myself to them isn’t something I’ve done, but it’s easy to guess and get it right with the number of them we have.”

“You keep acting like it isn’t a big deal. Don’t you have questions of your own?” You drill the woman persistently. “Or are you secretly in a position of power and just trying to hide it?”

“Ten, goodness!” Monica exclaims with genuine surprise. “You’re really being too persistent about something that hardly matters. I assure you I’m just a doctor here. Why on earth are you being so adamant on trying to understand me in such a nonsensical way? I’ve told you what I know, or at least what I’m allowed to tell you that I do. I’m just one woman who’s here to do a job. Not some kind of mastermind.”

You can’t really come up with a good enough answer to her question. Just “intuition” or “curiosity” is not enough to wholly satisfy such a question. When you take too long to say anything, Monica drops her guard and sighs.

“Well, it’s better we not discuss it so much,” she reminds you. “I was told not to be so ‘chatty’, remember? I’m very sure both of us would get in trouble.”

“You can’t tell me anything, I get it,” you respond with disdain. “But Monica, I can’t wrap my head around you. If you want to know what I think, my only ideas of you are that you’re being sneaky, or that you’re a victim.”

“Victim?” Monica scoffs. She genuinely sounds offended, for once. “I’m just a woman who loves to work with people, Ten. Please don’t think so lowly of me.”

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? But I don’t know what else to think.”

Monica then softens her expression and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Ten, let it go,” she gives a firm suggestion. “I really don’t want to get in trouble, and I certainly don’t want you to get yourself in more trouble than you already are. I know you probably can’t help pressing for information, but it’s not worth it. I’m not special like you want me to be. I’m just here to work.”

“I want to agree that it’s not worth it,” you mumble. “But there’s nothing here for me while I’m away from the others. I only tried to be careful because I never wanted them to get hurt. It’s not a secret. Even your boss knows this since he’s probably heard me say it to the others. But if I’m the only one getting hurt and my fate here is limited to two options that both lead to death, then I see no reason not to try, as long as it doesn’t immediately kill me.”

“Ten…”

You refrain from letting the woman or The Overseer, who no doubt will see footage of this conversation later, know that you were given any kind of info from Lucius. Instead, you remain vague about your reasons for saying what you are now.

“I’m not really all that brave,” you tell Monica. “I’m probably as weak as everyone says. I’m afraid. I can’t really help that. And right now more than ever, I just can’t bring myself to think clearly. I’m so tired. Slow. I’m in pain, for god’s sake. But I’m still here for now. I think my stubbornness and my love of those who have guided me all this time are all I have anymore. I don’t really know how long I’m going to continue to be here, and I know I’m being chipped away at.”

A pressure starts to build and well inside your throat and chest. With your breath shaking, you croak,

“But I’m trying.”

Only after this do you start to sob. The moment you feel the first tears fall from between your lashes, you find that it’s hard to stop yourself. Sucking in shallow breaths as you choke up, you bring your hands to your face and attempt to hide yourself in them. Monica says nothing, but you can’t really bring yourself to focus on either her or the nurse.

You have many reasons to cry, yet you can’t help but ask yourself why you chose now of all times to do so. You didn’t want Monica to see you like this. You don’t like anyone to see you like this.

The doctor by your side remains quiet and merely lets you cry. Even if she could try consoling you, it’d hardly help right now. But you can’t really even think about that anyway. You just want to get rid of this feeling, this tightness in your chest, this lump in your throat. Most of all, you want to get rid of all this misery that’s hung over you for as long as you’ve been at the facility.

You aren’t sure how long you remain in your crying state. At some point, the only thing you can do is let your mind go numb while you continue to sob. This goes on long enough for your face to become utterly puffy, and your sinuses clogged. You’re plugged up as hell, and after a while, you can’t bring yourself to produce more tears.

Only when you lower your hands do you realize Monica is attempting to hand you a cup of water she poured from the sink. As with the nurse, you’ve no clue when she left your side.

She could have easily let the nurse do this task, but Monica strangely remains adamant about giving you the water herself. She again stays silent, but does flash you a gentle smile in an attempt to be reassuring. With trembling hands, you take the water and gulp It down swiftly. The back of your throat is by now in dire need of the substance.

“Better?” She finally asks. You merely nod slightly. A bit of courtesy won’t fix your state, but you suppose you’re thankful for the kind gesture. Monica gives a bit of a soft laugh.

“I said I’m not Gale before, and I’m not,” she begins. “But I wish I could help. I can’t promise I’ll be here to talk to you when this is probably the last time we’ll see each other for a while. But know you have my sympathy. In this moment, I’m as human as you want me to be.”

“It’s the ‘after’ I’m worried about,” you wearily tell the woman while wiping your eye of the last of your tears. “Like I said.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Monica assures you with a sweet smile. “That much I can say. I’m sure there are other doctors who have done worse than I could ever imagine.”

You lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling mindlessly. The puffiness of your eyes makes it difficult to keep them open all the way.

“You have no idea.”

Nothing else is said, and so Monica allows you to rest in the chair on your own while she cleans things up. The medicine she gave you remains in your lap, though looking down only again reminds you how naked you are. By now the feeling isn’t odd, but the visual is. Should you be ashamed? You aren’t when it’s with people you trust, but you can’t help such shame around anyone else.

The nurse watches you closely while Monica does what she has to. Occasionally you hear the sounds of running water or a cabinet opening, but in large part, all you hear is her scribbling away on some paper about something. You realize then that Monica’s likely kept paperwork of her observations of your body. It shouldn’t be so surprising, but you’d neglected to consider it.

Only then do you realize that hiding your state from Yosuke won’t really be easy. Your heart sinks in response to this consideration. You’re so stupid.

“He’s going to know,” you say aloud to the woman. Your hands curl, one around the pill bottle and one over the tube. “Isn’t he?”

This sudden question gets Monica’s attention, and all you hear is a likely “hm?” from the woman’s place behind you. No doubt at the area by the sink. You hear Monica shuffle around in what you assume is a stool.

“Well, sort of,” she admits sheepishly, upon finally gathering what you’re talking about without having to ask outright. “I will keep good on my promise not to tell him, Ten. And really, I think there’s a chance the paperwork won’t be given to him. I think my superior wants to prolong his knowing. With reason, I’m sure.”

Undoubtedly.

“I didn’t really want you to get so disheartened, Ten,” Monica goes on, her voice a bit morose. “You’re likely going to bleed again someday. He’ll know then. But when that’s going to happen depends, since your cycle is so delayed thanks to the drugs. It could be a month, could be two. Maybe more.”

“How long is a month?” You question with an equally sullen voice. “How long have I even been here?”

“I can’t say. I also don’t really know,” says Monica. She continues to scribble loudly and slowly on a paper she’s likely laid flat on the countertop where the sink is. “My only focus has been meeting everyone and learning how things work around here. I’m sure I glanced at everyone’s files, but I don’t memorize that kind of thing. I usually can’t!”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t it require a lot of focus to be a doctor? Your memory should be really good.”

“I’m still a human, Ten,” Monica laughs. “I make mistakes too. Even doctors don’t always get things right on their own. That’s why medical and scientific fields are so collaborative. If my boss could do all this alone, I’m sure he would. But it’s just not practical.”

Again, she seems to try brushing your concerns off. You’re not sure if she doesn’t want to linger on your words because she doesn’t want you knowing something, or if it’s because she herself doesn’t want to think about the possibility of being a victim to anything in this place. You still don’t know what to make of the woman. No matter what she says, no answers are really made clear. Everything’s vague.

Even then, you still think it’s outlandish to think that her memory’s been messed with knowing that she still has whatever skillset she does. She even still has memories of her life before this. If anything, her recollection is just spotty. You could say this is attributed to human error. After all, Eight had suggested people recall things incorrectly, so the same error likely applies to remembering things at all. There are things you probably don’t remember that hardly matter anyway. Maybe for Monica, it’s the same.

Nonetheless, you can’t help but try talking to her more about herself. You’re sure it’s not something The Overseer would want you knowing, but Monica is aware that she can’t be as open as before. She’ll stop you if It’s a problem, as she just had prior.

“You said you worked with kids before?” You ask. Monica gives a light “mm-hm!” noise, her tone lively as ever. “What was that like?”

“Children are sweet things,” says Monica as she finishes up her writing. The nurse temporarily leaves your side, and you assume she’s been gestured to by the doctor in the room. You hear the sounds of papers shuffling about, but don’t bother trying to turn to see what might be going on behind you. “Working with them was always such a joy! I thought I’d be working with them all my life. I guess that wasn’t the case.”

“Why?”

“Oh, who can remember!” Monica laughs. “It wasn’t exactly a fun time in my life. At least, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think?” You remain skeptical. The nurse and Monica both return to you, though the nurse looks to now be carrying a stack of papers in her hand that she loosely hangs by her side.

Monica gives a light frown. “I think I put it out of my mind because it was a difficult time for me. Sometimes people block things out if their situation is bad enough. I only really know that I don’t want to remember that time. But I really don’t want to talk about it much, nor should I.”

She sighs and tries to again remain chipper, donning a smile. “Either way, I transitioned into working with women later on. It was a lot more work, I’ll admit. But I got pretty good at it. I’m probably on the same level as Nathaniel. I heard he was popular where he was, before coming here.”

“If he’s so good, I still don’t see the need for you to be here,” you remark with a muttering breath. Monica shrugs.

“I don’t ask questions about it. I’m just happy to be here!”

Your eyes then flicker between the nurse and Monica. There’s so much about Monica that just doesn’t add up to you. She remembers who she is, or was. She knows her place. She has a role here. Are you just paranoid?

“Monica, do you remember anything else?” You ask her. “About your life?”

“Why’s that?” The woman questions with a confused look in her eye. She then takes a rather dissatisfied tone. “Ten, really, are you still-”

“I just don’t get it, okay?” You interrupt her in your upset. “Why are you so different from the other doctors?”

“I’m not!” Monica sharply lashes out. Her chipper mood has completely disappeared. However, she immediately sighs and brings the fingers of both hands on either side of her head. Though she was loud just now, she immediately tries to control her volume. “Ten, please. You’re giving me a headache. I’m a patient woman, but even I have limits, alright?”

She drops her hands then and looks on at you with a now defeated expression.

“Do you really think so little of me? Do you really hate me after everything I’ve done to be kind?” She asks. “Ten, I only wanted you to trust me as a doctor. I thought maybe by being nice to you and everyone else, I could earn that trust even knowing that I’d have to hurt you otherwise.”

You look on at the woman in surprise.

“You don’t have to hurt us,” you tell her bluntly. “You can choose not to, can’t you?”

Monica shakes her head slowly, her lips pressed together. Is she struggling?

“I like the way it feels,” she admits. “I don’t want to give it up. I’m sorry. I know that it’s terrible, but that’s why…”

Monica doesn’t bother finishing her sentence. She can already tell how little you accept this as an excuse. If she really didn’t want to hurt any of you, she would have stayed away from here. You can’t accept her as someone worthy of your sympathy just because she “can’t help herself”. The workers you can at least understand—they’re drugged up. Monica, however, has no real reason that can justify her own interests, whatever they might be. Even if they’re light or ultimately harmless, she’s still here to use you. That’s abundantly clear, especially right now.

“Please stop assuming I’m some kind of a criminal mastermind,” Monica speaks up, shaking you from your thoughts. “ I’m telling you the truth when I say I’m just here to do my job, among the other things you don’t want to hear. I want to be kind where I can, like some others have been with you. I probably can’t convince you I’m a good person, but I need you to just be patient with me like I am for you.”

You don’t bother answering her this time, which only saddens her further. She drops her eyes and holds both her hands together tightly, one palm cupping the other.

“Ten, if you come back, you won’t get to have what you had in this room,” she tells you lowly. “I’m going to have to make you sad by being what you expect. I will try hard to be respectful of you, but this calm between us won’t last outside of this room. I know you know that already, I just think maybe it’d help you prepare for it if you heard it directly.”

“…If?” You inquire with a nervous tone. Monica looks up and away , frowning all the while.

“It really depends on my superior and what he wants to do with you,” she says. “I’m sure you know that too. I don’t know if you’ll remember me after this or not. I’m personally optimistic about it, but these men can change their mind in a heartbeat sometimes. If you do what they say, maybe you’ll be okay. I just don’t know for sure.”

You grow silent for a moment and look down mindlessly at your legs.

“I don’t want to go back to that room.”

“You have to,” is Monica’s quiet reply. “I’m sorry.”

You then turn your head toward the woman and look upon her and the nurse. The nurse by Monica’s side is still standing straight and awaiting a reason to move. She’s almost like a statue the way she’s staying so still.

After looking her over, you again turn your attention to Monica and ask,

“Do you have any idea what he’s even doing here? What specifically?”

“I definitely can’t tell you anything about that,” Monica bites her lip. “I shouldn’t even tell you whether or not I know.”

For a brief moment, you examine the woman’s hesitant profile. It dawns on you then.

“You don’t,” you say plainly. “You have no idea.”

Monica’s eyes widen a bit as she looks at you, and her lips part without a thing coming out of them. Eventually, she musters a few words.

“But how-“

“I don’t know,” you interrupt her. “No more than you do. I can just see it. You’re not part of whatever inner circle he has. Like my doctor. Probably Nathaniel and Jonathan to some extent too, if all they do is checkups.”

Monica’s brown eyes shift away, and she gives a light, defeated sigh.

“Maybe it’s better that way. It’s nice not knowing about the worst parts of this place.”

“Turning a blind eye doesn’t mean you’re better than it,” You mutter. Monica sighs.

“Well, like I said, it comes with the territory. I can’t exactly turn away from it all. I just have to do what I’m told. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Or die?”

“That’s right,” is the woman’s simple response. “Nobody really wants to die. Some of us are motivated by money, the chance to do limitless research, or the chance to have a pretty good position of power. But it’s not like we’re not afraid to die either. Same as you.”

“We’re not the same,” you refute this angrily. Despite the fury welling inside of you, your weary state prevents you from lashing out as much as you’d like. Your voice sounds far less impactful than it has when you say your piece. It’s tired, like you. “You can’t justify your feelings when you agreed to this. When you see the things your prisoners are put through.”

“I suppose not,” Monica gives a subtle shrug. Despite the casual nature of her words, her eyes remain sullen. She seems more downtrodden than you’ve seen her before. Less thoughtful than she was just a moment ago, in fact. “Either way, I guess it was nice talking to you while I could. I can’t really change your mind on anything, but I did enjoy our time together.”

You lean back in the chair, tilting your head upward, and stare blankly at the ceiling again. Still clutching the pill bottle in one hand, you rub your thumb against the smooth surface. Having something to hold onto strangely grounds you when sitting here for so long and remaining in such a sour state makes you feel out of touch with your own body. It’s difficult to really place how you feel now other than just “exhausted” as an umbrella term. This whole ordeal and everything preceding it has weighed so heavy on your heart, body, and mind that you aren’t sure what to make of anything anymore.

“I guess I’d rather be here than there,” you admit. “Don’t get all giddy about it, but thank you for your help.”

Monica finally smiles again. “I hope you feel better, Ten. Physically speaking, I’ve done what I can.”

“And mentally?”

The doctor’s brown eyes shift away as her smile fades. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own. Sorry.”

You raise a brow. “You sure say ‘sorry’ a lot. I don’t know if you really are.”

“I guess it’s a bit of a habit,” Monica gives a weary laugh.

“But why apologize to me? You have no problem dealing with Mom and even having fun messing with her by playing dumb.”

“Should I be mean?” Monica questions with a cock of her head. “I do want Mamita to like me, I just don’t think I’ll win her over anytime soon. I’m not so weak that I let other people push me around, but I still have a heart.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath. Mom hates you.”

“So do you, apparently.”

You glower, though your gaze remains fixated above you. “I have a reason to be so wary of you. I told you why. I just don’t know what to think.”

“You know, doctors struggle with their own minds too,” Monica points out with a slight smile. “Like I already said, we’re not exactly perfect.”

“I could have told you that,” you retort with a muttering breath. “But it still worries me how little you seem to know. You don’t act like the others.”

“Well, I’m new, aren’t I?” Monica tries to laugh this off. Clearly, she’d rather not get riled up again. “You should really give me a bit more time.”

You can tell even behind her cheery demeanor that she’s quite bothered by this. Even now, she seems like she’s forcing her attitude. How she’d been prior was far more natural by comparison. Why she’s so bothered, you’ve no idea. She snapped at you so suddenly, and in such a way that genuinely made her seem pitiful. Were it not for the fact that you know she’s adamant about being here and getting what she wants, you’d almost feel bad for her.

Like Yosuke, Monica’s shut out from a lot. Perhaps because she’s so new, but in general, you get the sense the other doctors don’t think highly of her position here. They no doubt respect her as a person, save for maybe Mom for her own unusual reasons, but Monica’s just here to do one thing. Even Nathaniel and Jonathan supposedly do more for the facility than she does, despite their limited medical role.

Monica’s attempting to be nice, but you’re starting to actually believe that this isn’t just some façade like it is when Mom’s being nice. Of course you can’t forgive her for choosing to be here even knowing how bad it can be for the prisoners, but you figure at least she’s attempting to not be an awful person when she has the chance to try.

How it’ll be when you two see each other for a visit, you can’t say. Maybe it’s going to be simpler than it has been with the other doctors. You can understand wanting simpler pleasures as someone who’s indulged in them once or twice with your closer friends. Still, you remain largely worried about what will come in the future.

Whether it even will.

So far, you have no reason to think you’ve angered The Overseer enough for him to do what he said he would. In part, after everything, you almost want to let go and forget it all. But it’s not practical. You still want to remember the things that made you happy, and the people who made you happy, even if you’re miserable right now.

You hope Monica is treating the other Numbers well. She won’t talk about them right now, but if she’s showing them the same “kindness” she shows you, then maybe you have nothing to worry about.

As your eyes drift again to the nurse waiting quietly by Monica’s side, you want to bring up the subject of who Monica is and what her role is once more. It continues to bother you how strange things have seemed with the woman’s emergence. You part your lips to speak, but before you can get a word out, the doors to the room finally open.

The sudden noise this produces almost makes you jump. And, gazing upon the familiar face of The Overseer now, you’re forced to remember just where you are again. The respite from the room really did leave an impression on you—talking was something you had a little more freedom to do. You could even manage to talk back, if with such a weary voice. Such small freedoms are deeply appreciated, despite the difficult nature of your discussion with Monica both times. But now, you’re back to being quiet.

Your eyes nervously lock onto The Overseer. Much to your horror, he has blood spotted all over his sleeves and vest. You have no clue what may have happened, but the sight doesn’t exactly leave you eager to know.

There’s a worker behind the man. The sight of him only makes your heart beat faster as the memory of your recent abuse again takes hold of your thoughts.

The nurse does not look toward The Overseer, but quietly leaves to retrieve your cuff, knowing full well what has to be done, and doing it promptly. Monica, on the other hand, does let her brown eyes drift over to The Overseer. She does not smile.

“Sir?” She addresses him. The man at the other end of the room does not move from his place, but waves forward the worker behind him, his gesture silent. The worker steps toward you, causing your body to again tremble. All you can do is avoid looking at him, though you uncomfortably put up with his presence so close to you.

The Overseer eyes Monica with his cool grey gaze, looking unexpressively at her. Monica, in turn, observes her boss’ bloodied shirt and vest with wide eyes.

“What happ-“

“What should I expect?” The Overseer questions her promptly, interrupting her. Monica, realizing he’s attempted to shut her up, decides to take both the tube and the bottle from you. She promptly shows them to her boss, stepping more toward him but not getting too terribly close. Why she’s so shaken by the sight of the bloodied man you don’t know. Surely she’s had to see this kind of thing before.

“S-she’ll have to use these,” she explains. She’s trying hard to avoid looking at the blood any further. “Medicine for the pain, and medicine to prevent infection. She’ll have to take it after her meals until the bottle’s empty. I…recommend she do this privately though.”

Strangely, she isn’t pushing for her instructions the way she had with Lucius. Her recommendation sounds like a mere supposition with her suddenly sheepish demeanor.

The Overseer eyes the medicine with a light glower. No doubt he’s displeased at having to deal with babying you, far more than Lucius had been. The dark-haired man’s patience for the task is marginally greater than his boss’.

“And your report?”

“The nurse has it,” says Monica in response. You notice her avoiding The Overseer’s gaze as he examines the woman in quiet displeasure.

You slightly gasp as the nurse returns to your side, after putting the paperwork aside somewhere so that she can work with you. You’d been so focused on the two near the entrance of the room that you’d neglected to keep track of her again.

Since the worker on your other side has gloves too thick to work with you, it’s the nurse who cuffs your wrists back up. Not wanting to be handled by force, you oblige the workers and willingly put your hands behind your back to let the nurse do this. The entire ordeal leaves you utterly discomforted. Looking down at your legs now doesn’t much help the fact that you can feel the workers both eyeing you, even from behind their masks. The trembling in your body worsens at their proximity. Are they both sick? Healthy? Do they think anything of you now? Are they going to do anything to you?

“Have the nurse deliver the medicine and your report to my quarters once you’re done cleaning up here,” The Overseer gives Monica his sharp order. “Go back to your post after, and speak nothing of your work here.”

“Yes, sir,” Monica gives a sheepish nod. She remains silent after this, not having much else to say anyway. The Overseer’s eye sharply flickers to the worker.

“Let’s go,” he calls to him. He needn’t give any other indication or order, as the worker immediately understands his task. Much to your unease, he scoops you up in his arms and carries you away. The feeling of his thick gloves and the coarse, tightly knit fabric on your skin is unnerving. Your trembling refuses to let up. As he holds you, you faintly hear his slow breaths and feel the steady rising and falling of his chest from behind the cloth. Despite the evenness, all you can imagine is the worker from before breathing so heavily into your ear.

Your eyes widen, and your breathing becomes shallower. You can’t afford to make a sound right now, so you merely keep to your quiet panic. You’re whisked closer to The Overseer, and in this proximity, you can see him staring at you with contempt. Nonetheless, he says nothing.

As you pass Monica, she gives you a downtrodden look, but remains in her silence and stays put until you’re completely out of the room.

The walk back to The Overseer’s room is quiet, though you can’t really bring yourself to speak anyway. All you can do is watch the many doors go by as you pass them.

Again, you hear a ringing in your ears, though it passes fairly quickly. If not for that, you might have thought you’d gone deaf with how silent it’s been this entire time. You keep looking to your side, toward The Overseer who’s walking ahead of the worker. You can mainly just glimpse the nape of his neck and the back of his blond head. The blood on his clothes isn’t as present from the back, though you can still see bits of it from where you are, with some of the stuff having dotted the fabric by his elbows.

You wonder if another worker was killed, or if the person the boss and Lucius had initially gone to retrieve ended up being far too much trouble to deal with. Maybe they were lucky to have escaped this fate of becoming a worker, like Jade had. You’ve thought this before, but you ask yourself now whether thinking it is sick or wrong.

Desperately, you hope that you don’t think that of yourself too—that death is the better alternative for your own self. You’re weary and tired. You want to give up, but even now there’s something in the back of your mind telling you to hold on. Your only motivation to is the promise of seeing the others again. Even if you have to return to Yosuke and the other doctors as well, it’s better than being here. The comparison isn’t really a good one, in hindsight. It’s like being forced to choose between a harsh punishment and a mild one—they’re both punishments nonetheless.

Eventually, you reach The Overseer’s room, and the same procedure follows. You’re re-shackled to the bed, though not by the worker. He merely leaves you alone once he’s let you down. Once done, he’s promptly dismissed.

Despite having always left the curtain shut with you around, The Overseer leaves it open this time. Quietly, he brings forth his crystal ashtray and pulls a silver lighter out of his pocket. It looks engraved with an image you can’t make out. Somehow, the thing is both ornate and plain simultaneously.

The Overseer lights another cigarette, which he pulls from a pack he’s tucked in one of the hollowed-out cubbies beneath the console. Once the thing is lit between his lips, he leans back against the console’s edge and looks on at you. After sucking in a breath of smoke, he exhales.

“Lucius made more trouble than he needed, didn’t he?” He questions. You look on at the man, sitting in your bed curled up and still slightly shivering even long after the worker has gone. You realize your lording Overseer is still under the impression that Lucius is the one who raped you. Then, you suppose there really are things that escape even him. Unless he simply has chosen to ignore any other possibility. You can’t tell.

“I’m disappointed that he does this sort of thing,” the man goes on. “He likes to think I don’t always know that he does. I suppose I should at least be glad he tries to hide it from me. I don’t much like being aware of it.”

His cool grey eyes stay fixated on you. It’s hard for you to place just why the man is opting to speak to you now. But you’re in no place to question it. You direly wish he’d leave you be.

“Nonetheless, I expect you to keep treating him with respect,” he says firmly. “I look the other way for many things he does because of his importance to me. I can’t understand or reason with his needs, but I allow him to fulfill them. I’m sure even you can tell we’re close enough for me to entertain him.”

You remain silent, but nod subtly. The Overseer doesn’t appear bothered by your silence. No doubt he prefers it.

“He is my brother,” he says plainly. Your eyes widen, but the man does not let you ponder on this statement. “Not in blood, girl. Lucius is dear to me, as we have known one another for a long time. Even so, he’s equally loyal. He knows when to be attentive and alert. He knows how to answer my beck and call. Even when he acts aloof, he’s more worthy to me than the others. I allow them to do many things, but even they still receive judgement. Rightly so.”

He gives another drag of his cigarette and blows the air up, tilting his head back to do so. For a moment, his eyes close. Only once he’s sucked in another breath do they again open.

“You should be grateful he’s bothered to take care of you,” The Overseer tells you. “He could have easily ignored my order if he so wanted. Killed you at any moment, even. He seems fascinated by you. Not that it makes you special—many people fascinate him. Eleven, for instance. The workers as well.”

He taps his cigarette over the crystalline ashtray atop the console, letting the buildup of ash fall. He then glances over at you and glowers.

“You owe me thanks as well,” he sharply reminds you. “I’ve given my prisoners many privileges under recommendation. The other group before you didn’t have it quite as good. My initial groups were even worse off, with nothing more than a bare room to congregate in. You’re phenomenally spoiled simply because I allow it. I’m not as monstrous as you assume in that regard. But I can be at any moment if I so choose. He and I both. Do remember that much, girl.”

You continue to keep quiet, though scornfully scowl at the man a moment before shifting your eyes away from him. The Overseer merely draws another smoking breath and exhales it slowly. The smell of smoke is by now thick in the air.

“Your enthusiasm for backtalk has diminished, I see,” he jabs at you. “Good. You arrived here wiling to speak back at me as if you had the right. I’m pleased to see you now know your place, as you well ought to.”

Without a word, he moves to his medicine cabinet and extracts from it a syringe and a bottle. You watch him with weary eyes as he fills the large thing with anesthetic. In part, you look forward to getting your rest. If it means not having to deal with this place for a few hours or days or however long you’re out, then fine.

Once the needle is prepared, The Overseer, cigarette still held between his lips, approaches your bedside, and looks down upon your disturbed face.

“Down,” he commands, his voice slightly hindered by the thing in his mouth. You remain in your shivering state, avoiding the man’s piercing gaze of you. Nonetheless, you do as instructed and lay down on your back. You let out a sudden breath when The Overseer grabs your chin with the whole of his hand and forces your head to the side to expose your neck. As always, the needle plunges into your flesh and lingers there a moment while the syringe’s contents are pumped into you. In moments, the ordeal is over, and The Overseer lets you go.

After discarding the thing, he again moves to your bed and watches you as you continue to tremble. Your head remains turned away even after he’s finished with his task. You don’t want to move.

The Overseer plucks the cigarette from his mouth and taps it over you, letting the hot ash fall on your cheek. You flinch, but find that the stuff isn’t molten as you expect. It’s strong in its warmth, even taking you aback when it touches your skin and hurting a tinge when it does, but it’s not enough to injure you severely.

Still hovering above you, The Overseer scowls.

“What a disgusting face,” he chides you harshly before promptly drawing your curtain again.

Only when he’s gone do you manage to breathe a sigh of relief. You hadn’t noticed you were holding your breath so much, and only do when your chest relaxes. Tiredly, you brush away the ash from your face and turn your body on its side, facing the curtain.

However long you lay there remains uncertain, but you do feel yourself fading slowly. You think you hear knocking on the door at some point, but concentrating soon becomes a chore.

All you really gather is the sound of voices while you transition into your slumber, though the specific dialogue is spotty to you.

“…Right,” The Overseer acknowledges the entrant of the room. “Not long this time. I’ve a procedure to prep for.”

What is he…?

You can’t really keep your eyes open any longer. You grow frustrated as your attempts to keep awake in order to learn what’s happening fail. The last thing you can really recall is the shape of a human shadow making their way to the console.

Chapter 64: Them

The men allow you to use and apply the medicine on your own, much to your relief. This at least saves you one embarrassment out of the many you’ve endured. Even so, you remain ever dreary as you continue to live in a cycle. It’s always wake, eat, lay there, use the restroom, lay there, eat, sleep, and so on. Any variations are scarce.

Cyrus had once mentioned being able to tell the time based on cyclic activity, but yours doesn’t much give any indication of when anything is. Even your meals have become vague—there’s not just breakfast dishes and dinner dishes, but just dishes of something that could be easily gathered as one meal type or the other. Perhaps you’re being fed leftovers of some kind, though this idea, regardless of its uncertain truth, saps any ability you have to pretend that each meal is special just to get yourself to eat it.

Your appetite had already been shirked after the things you endured in this room. The pills Monica gave you, however, only make this worse. You figure it’s a side effect of the drug, but you can’t bring yourself to eat most times and only do so to avoid Lucius’ wrath.

Strangely, the man’s been a bit colder to you since he tortured you with C1’s murder. Or rather, he’s been less cheeky and grimly playful. Thinking of the ordeal isn’t pleasant, but it’s becoming easier to swallow now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock. You don’t think you’ll ever accustom yourself to the sight of death, or even the thought. But as of late, your waves of memory of the event don’t completely incapacitate your mind like before.

It’s also luckily becoming easier to dissociate the memory and the pain, since the latter is slowly starting to dissipate. You look forward to the time that your pill bottle is emptied, so your appetite can stop being as awful as it is. Sure, even without the drug it’ll be shirked, but at least it won’t be as much of a chore to force yourself to eat.

Again, you continue to worry about the state of your own body. Touching your abdomen becomes something of a regular ritual for you. Not only that, but you focus as much as you can on any changes in your body that might indicate something like a pregnancy. Luckily, you don’t really notice anything, though you aren’t sure how you’ll manage when and if you go back to the routine you had before being dragged here.

To distract yourself from the unpleasant inevitability, you remind yourself that it’s likely the workers are sterile, especially since they probably sleep around with each other so much under the drug’s influence. A pregnant number is one thing, but a pregnant worker might be more trouble than it’s worth for these people. You wouldn’t imagine a worker could really survive a pregnancy at all with how weak their bodies are, especially in the later stages of their addiction.

It’s sick, but you can’t much help thinking of how gruesome it is that a girl could get pregnant here as a regular prisoner, become a worker, then get pregnant again. How awful that must be. You aren’t sure if that’s ever happened, but the thought horrifies you. Why you’re starting to casually drum up such disgusting ideas is something you don’t understand, but you can’t exactly stop their random emergences.

Slowly, the ringing in your ears subsides again. It comes maybe once in a while, but hardly enough for you to notice it anymore. You’re left again in mostly silence, save for the occasional insignificant protocol chatter between Lucius and The Overseer, the occasional scribbling of notes, and the clacking of keys on the computer.

You’d been told by both men that they’re intertwined. Lucius had only been vague about it, but his superior confirmed that they were close in some way. You wonder just how. The way they talk to each other is largely formal, save for a few instances of Lucius making casual remarks. He’s always been reserved or polite with his boss otherwise.

It’s not really clear what relationship they have. The Overseer had said they’ve been together and known each other for a long time. Are they childhood friends? Lovers? Long-time business partners? The latter is clearly correct, but the first two are vague and uncertain. You can’t really imagine either man being genuinely in love with anything. They’re likely too dedicated to whatever work they do to really have time for something like that.

As time passes, the routine remains. As always, you’re occasionally given vitamins, occasionally bathed, and occasionally spoken to by Lucius. During one meal, you even bother to tiredly ask why his boss was covered in blood when he came to collect you from Monica. Lucius’ only response then is,

“Things didn’t go as planned. But don’t worry—we worked it out.”

Always, his words are followed with a cold smile. You refuse to look the man in the eye when he makes it.

Though you remain curious as to the procedure that The Overseer does or who the “selects” might be, you refuse to ask grander questions with Lucius now. He’d probably take jabs at you about how you’ve “learned your lesson”, so you try not to let him know how afraid of him you are. Even so, you’re sure he can sense it based on how he watches you amusedly. If it’s not your expression or your hesitancy, it’s your trembling upon his proximity and his touch that often gives you away. Unfortunately, you can’t help the physiological responses.

Every so often, you’re put out like you have been. The constant drugging of your body has left you in a permanent state of exhaustion, though you aren’t sure it’s wholly the drugs to blame. You’ve been quite foggy since your terrible ordeal. You try your best to cling to positive thoughts and memories of your family, but even that’s starting to fog up.

If the others could see you now, they’d be devastated. Though, they’ve probably already forgotten about you by now and moved on. You didn’t think ill of the idea before because you knew it was necessary for them to move on from such pains, but thinking of it now only brings such a pain to you instead.

You don’t want to be forgotten.

Trying to remember the feeling of Cyrus’ or Lav’s touch has become harder for you. You can’t tell if it’s because of your state, or because of how long you’ve been here. It’s not like you’ve forgotten anything that’s happened between you and the other Numbers. You can even still remember waking up for the first time in this place. But it’s the touch that you seem to have forgotten.

Laying in your bed, hidden from the men by your curtain veil, you try to bring your hand between your legs and touch your body yourself, but the gesture brings you a tiny bit of pain. You haven’t entirely healed, even though you’re doing much better than you were prior. You suppose you have Monica to thank for it, but you really wish you could feel some bit of pleasure just once in order to get your mind off of things. Not since you arrived here have you managed to feel that kind of sensation. It’s almost foreign to you now.

The thought of Monica leaves you guessing once more as to who she really is. She seemed adamant that she wasn’t a bad person, or at least not a super important one. She doesn’t want to be seen as different from the other doctors so far as her role here is concerned. You now do think her words rang partly true: she simply doesn’t know about what’s really important to The Overseer’s intentions. Based on how he interacted so sharply with the woman, he didn’t appear all too interested in or pleased by her. She’s nothing to him.

You continue to ponder worriedly on how she might be when she chooses to see you as a visitor. She’d said her kindliness as a doctor would stop the moment you left the room, and understanding these words has only left you more uncertain. You figure she’ll still try to be nice, but certainly more demanding about what she wants from you.

Perhaps The Overseer wasn’t much bothered by the conversation you had with the woman. No doubt he’d have seen it by now if cameras were in the room. Monica isn’t the one who’d get in trouble when she tried to stop you from asking more than you needed to know. You, however, might face consequences if her boss chooses not to let it slide. But so far, he’s seemed indifferent to it.

Why that might be, you’re not sure. He’s been letting you learn things that you’re sure he’d never have let you before. Excluding the things he doesn’t know you know, it’s still quite a lot of information. Granted, you have nothing to really do with it. Nobody in your group can know what you’ve learned. You wouldn’t even want them to when it’s this bad.

Every so often, you prematurely wake from your drug-induced slumbers and notice the same familiar shadow at the computer. You always want to assume it’s Lucius or The Overseer, but this particular shadow has different subtle mannerisms that you can’t place to either man. They’re quieter and more reserved in their seat than the other two. Both men regularly adjust themselves or shift about, but this person is far more polite with their movements. Subtle, even.

Even if you wanted to call out to this person, you only ever see them while anesthetized, and are largely too tired to bother. You’re surprised that you’re still reacting to the drug like this. Gradually, your spells of bare awareness have become more frequent. Numerous times, doctors have said they’d up your dose, but you figure that isn’t the case if doing so would lead to more intolerances. Perhaps your anomalistic state has cornered them, though you doubt anyone would ever admit it.

It’s been said your case isn’t super special, but you wonder why they might not have caught such an intolerance ahead of time if they test bodies so thoroughly before they officially make people prisoners here. You guess the science isn’t as precise as it could be. This probably isn’t surprising, though. You’d imagine that this sort of thing lends itself to error. Monica mentioned the collaborative nature of such fields, but human error is bound to slip through even then. It still shocks you that such men as these, so concise and thorough with their work, could make errors. They always seem to pride themselves on perfection in some way. The Overseer might not ever admit these faults, whereas Lucius might not be as diligent about saving face.

Of course, there’s a lot that can’t be done down here, especially if this entire operation is meant to be under wraps. Keeping secrets might cause holes to be poked in such procedure. Certainly, a lot can go wrong. As it is, someone’s managed to slip through the cracks and attempt an escape. No doubt Jay wasn’t the only one to try.

You wish you were that brave. That dedicated. Fear still has too much of a hold on you. Unfortunately, you can’t do much for it but try to overcome it, or at least just power through it as best you can. You long to be at the same level of emotional strength as others.

The mystery person continues to show up, though you only occasionally see them. No doubt you don’t always prematurely wake, but when you do, they’re often there. Oddly, neither The Overseer nor Lucius are really present when this person is in the room. It strikes you as odd that they’d allow such a person privacy, though you figure it must be someone they trust even a little not to do something reckless. You’re too tired to play guessing games about who.

You can occasionally make out the sounds of key tapping or scribbling whenever such a person is present, but your senses are always so dulled you start to assume that maybe you’re having auditory hallucinations of some kind. Maybe this is just a dream you’re having, the only one you could possibly have when you see this same image so often.

Only after repeatedly seeing this person do you start to really build up this person as potentially real. They show up so much that you start to think: if this were some kind of hallucination or dream that you’re finally able to have despite not dreaming as of late, then it’s far too prominent and consistent to be just a dream. There’s no way it isn’t real, right?

Even so, nothing really changes for you. The humdrum of your confinement and the way it forces you to dwell more and more on the negative only leaves you too weary and out of it to focus. You’re at least glad you can now move around without stinging pain. Slowly, you’re healing up.

You wonder if this person you’re seeing knows you’re here. Do you even know them? Do they know you? They must have at least seen you on camera if they sift through them regularly. Whether or not they know you, they must know your face.

Since the curtain’s drawn, and your shadowy shape is no doubt present from behind it, you suppose that this person at least knows there’s someone here. That much you can say certainly. Though, they never acknowledge you, never once say a word whenever you wake to them.

The more you see the figure, the more you wish to call out to them. Of course, what good what it do? They probably don’t even care about your predicament. Maybe they don’t even know about it. If they know that someone’s back here, then you must mean so little to this person for them not to bother reaching out once.

More and more, you notice them, and it starts to genuinely vex you that they don’t notice you back. Somehow, it even angers you.

Why won’t they just look at me?! You wonder. It’s unclear why it bugs you so much. It was enough to be ignored by The Overseer and conversely over-observed by Lucius. Harassed, really. But somehow, the possibility of attention from someone who isn’t them is all you can cling to right now. It’s all you can think about.

After what happened with Monica, even with how unpleasant your interaction was, you realized only after you lost that time with her that you really cherished it. Though uncomfortable, it was a necessary break from all of this. Now you’re desperate for that again. Acknowledgement, support, something.

Always, this figure remains still. Always, they face away from you. It’s not clear whether they’re avoiding you, or if they’re focused on something specific. If they’re observing the cameras, of course they’d be focused. But you notice they never move from their place by the cameras.

Granted, you’re never able to stay awake long enough to watch them go anywhere else. No matter how hard you try, you always wind up passing out again. Each time you wake, it’s not clear how long you’re able to stay that way. Some moments feel longer than others. Nonetheless, nothing really changes.

There’s only one instance that you can note in which something new really happens. The figure drops something on the floor, perhaps a pen or pencil. Only then do they really move from their place. The sudden movement almost feels like a godsend of a moment despite its mundaneness.

The dropped writing utensil rolls more toward you by the sound of its approaching proximity. However, you can’t really bring yourself to move to try seeing the thing. Peeking over the edge of your bed only allows you a tiny portion of the floor to view. Though the curtain doesn’t wholly extend to the hard floor, the gap it leaves between isn’t enough for you to see much. Besides, you can’t quite bring yourself to move right now anyway.

The person in the room with you doesn’t bother to pick their tool up. All they do is rise, turn, and step near where the thing is. With their foot, they roll it toward them, and only then do they bother to pluck it from the floor. Why they’re being so careful, you don’t know. If it’s to avoid you seeing them, then obviously they know you’re there.

Beyond this, there’s hardly a noteworthy moment. Not any you can remember since you’re constantly so foggy from both the drugs and your own persistent misery.

Periodically upon waking, you note that the figure has something on their head—a bulky thing that changes the outline of their shape. Headphones to listen in on the video feed, maybe? Now you’re more certain they know you’re here if they don’t want to risk you hearing anything, even if you’re supposed to be unconscious.

What exactly are they observing, you wonder? Likely prisoners, but you’re not sure if they’re dealing with any other areas too. The workers’ quarters, perhaps? Specific procedural or exam rooms?

God, you hope it’s not the case that cameras are in the bedrooms and beyond. Thinking of the possibility again only makes you feel ill. To think The Overseer or Lucius may have seen you getting fucked repeatedly…

You don’t think it’s the case, but you can’t really tell. Lucius mentioned knowing, but your activity has extended beyond your rooms.

Thinking back on these different places only brings your mind back to the workers, despite how little you’d like to dwell on them now. Each one seems to have had their own subtly distinct personality. Lucius had mentioned the newer workers were still more resilient and feisty. Perhaps the livelier ones you’ve encountered were newer, then. You can’t really distinguish between them all, though. Of the workers you’ve seen, you can only really recall a few from visits, those that carried Mom away the day she snapped, and those who you’ve dealt with while confined here, among others.

Charlie as well, of course. You start to question just how he fares by himself when he has nobody to interact with. Unpleasantly, your mind also wanders to the subject of him being drugged with Red Valentine. If he has nobody to use, does he just touch himself? Or does Lucius…

Your eyes shut. You hate thinking about it, but the idea drifts in your mind without a care. It’s despicable how much your thoughts wander this way. But you can’t really help that. There’s nothing to really do in this place but think, whenever you’re not forced to eat or bathe or anything else. Even then, such acts are short and don’t distract you for very long. But being left with your own thoughts for so long doesn’t at all help your state.

The mystery person remains under your constant watchful eye anytime you can manage to catch them. You remain pondering on who they are. Their shape gives little indication on whether they’re a man or woman. All you can really make out is a thinner bodily frame.

Might it be Gale, then? Or some other doctor you’ve not met? Either is possible. It might be outlandish to assume it’s Jonathan despite his frame being similar. He’s hardly as important to the operation here as other people probably are.

But Gale…

You realize you never thought hard about them after your viewings of the video feeds from your first time here. You’d wanted to put such horrible images of your companions out of your mind that you let the subject escape you.

Gale has every reason to monitor the cameras. To listen in. They must be observing everyone and recording data. What’s their motivation, anyway? You can gather that they’re fascinated by behavior enough to know that simply observing others is a pleasure for them. But there must be something more to it. There must be a reason Gale puts up with everything that goes on in this facility beyond just a simple fascination. There may even be several reasons.

You ponder their connection to The Overseer and to their Number. Gale had said they were brought here; sought out. Evidently they and their boss weren’t close before. As for Gale’s Number, you’re not sure what to make of the relationship. For as little as you want to remember the videos again, you do recall what happened when Gale was trying to interview Six.

They’d been dressed so differently, and their appearance far more natural than what they have now. In a way, it looked like they were trying to present themself nicely for the girl. Why that is, you’re not sure. Maybe because Six was going to end up as theirs. It’s strange, though—why did Six react that way to Gale at all?

You’d say Gale must have known Six once, but you’re not sure whether that’s correct. But the way Gale presented themself, and the way they defended Six seems far more than circumstantial. They’d even begged The Overseer to fix whatever issue arose. It’s not clear whether they were begging him to fix the pained Six, or fix whatever caused her pain. If Gale changed for the girl, maybe the boss was only able to settle for one solution or the other. Even he couldn’t work miracles, could he?

When you were shown the feed, you’d gathered that Gale had changed their appearance for Six, and you’re sure that the change was necessary to help your friend’s state stabilize. You think maybe she remembered something upon seeing Gale’s face that led to the pain, and it’s this that more solidifies your theory that the two knew each other once. Maybe only briefly, maybe for a while. You can’t tell.

Even now, Six gets headaches, and Gale gives them medicine. It’s a bit sick to think that the possible truth of their familiarity with one another was under your nose this whole time. Not having known doesn’t bug you. Rather, if Gale knew Six, why would they ever have subjected her to a place like this?

The relationship between the two was never super clear. The only glimpse you got into how Gale sees Six was when they spoke to you after Jay’s death. You refuse to believe that their care of Six, and their assuring her an outlet for her frustrations was anything more than just a ploy to read her mind or to study her. Gale may be kinder in some regards, but they’ve still shown how they really are. Like Monica, they’re still a part of all this even if it is true that they don’t want to be outwardly terrible. They’re not at all guiltless.

Even so, you still long to speak with Gale now. If it is them by the computer, then you direly wish for them to acknowledge you. Just once. A familiar face is something you crave. Even theirs.

Speaking isn’t something you can usually do when you wake from these drug-induced spells, not without a lot of effort. You usually wake up much too weary to do anything but observe your surroundings with slowly shifting eyes. Nonetheless, the unknown eventually becomes too much to bear.

In one moment, you decide to try your best to reach out to this person despite little will to try speaking. In all your dizziness, you can only really muster a meager use of your voice. You have to strain it a bit with how numb your body is.

“…Gale…?”

Even after speaking their name, you almost can’t quite tell if you really did or not. Only when the figure turns their head and curiously lowers their headphones do you realize they must have heard something. The way they move, you think they didn’t quite catch your calling of them so clearly. Perhaps your voice is a bit too weary.

Again, you try calling to them.

“Gale…?” you tiredly mumble. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

The loud crashing of the headphones against the floor resonates through the room, making your heart instinctively jump. The figure promptly stands and turns around, but says nothing. After a brief moment of hesitation, they quickly depart, not even bothering to pick anything up or close anything out. Their leaving the room is really quite sudden, like they’re not sure what else to really do. Why would it surprise them that someone’s here if they already knew?

You can’t think on it much before you again fall asleep, clutching the thin fabric atop your mattress.

The next time you wake, the quiet observer is gone. Only Lucius remains, something you gather based on the distinctly patient manner in which he turns a page at the desk. You figure you’ll try to reach Gale again the next time you are able. Perhaps if they acknowledge you, you can ask why the reacted how they did to your calling of them.

Subsequent meals and pretty much all other activities are far quieter now. Lucius isn’t much bothered by the silence. After all, he said himself such silence hardly irked him. He must really enjoy using the workers then with how quiet they-.

No, stop. You keep thinking about these awful things like they’re so casual. Reaching that point isn’t an achievement. You don’t want to be numb to these statements. They’re not causal. They’re serious, and shouldn’t be taken so lightly. Even some of the other Numbers struggle with certain topics. For it to casually pop up in your mind feels wrong.

More time passes, and again you have another opportunity to call out to Gale. This time, when you do, their reaction isn’t as shocked. It’s far more subtle. Perhaps they prepared for it this time.

In your exhaustion, you clutch the meager fabric of your flimsy bed and wearily beg:

“Gale, please. I won’t tell them if you talk to me.”

The shadow behind the veil briefly freezes, but soon sharply rises and moves toward your curtain. In moments, the thing is pulled open, and you’re met with precisely who you expected.

Gale looks down at you with wide eyes, and their darker hand tightens around the bunched-up curtain.

“I thought you were dead,” they remark. “I was told a worker was back here being punished.”

Your eyes tiredly examine the familiar doctor’s frame. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Gale, and somehow your weary heart stutters and jumps at the sight of them—their familiar white hair, their icy eyes, their thin limbs.

Only when the doctor examines you more closely do they realize:

“You’re drugged.”

Your eyes drift wearily to the screens behind Gale. In their shock, they’d forgotten to turn the things off. Some of them are displaying areas you don’t recognize, with people you don’t recognize. Who they might be, you’ve no clue. Workers? Letters? Selects? Others?

On another screen, you see the theater, you think. Your ability to focus is too weak right now for you to really comprehend the image fully since you’re starting to fade again. Even the people on screen are too faded to make out properly. They only look like colored dots. Some of the colors you think you recognize.

At first, it’s hard to tell if the camera’s facing the stage or the door from where you are, but you think it’s facing the front of the beds when you note the familiar burgundy color. Only the lower portion of it is visible, it seems. But before you can try forcing your unfocused eyes to get a good look, Gale catches their mistake and moves aside to block your view. They tiredly sigh and subtly wave a hand before their torso.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” they tell you. “This is just a dream, Ten. Go back to sleep, alright? We can’t talk to each other.”

“Gale…” you continue to tiredly mumble. By now, your sight is completely blurred up. “…Are the others okay…?”

The white-haired doctor grimaces slightly hearing you call them again. Nonetheless, you feel them cup your cheek gently and murmur,

“Just sleep. I’m not real.”

You don’t want to believe that’s true, but you’re so out of it you can’t really focus or even keep your eyes open anymore. Soon, you’re out again, and when you wake, you’re met with the same sounds of Lucius scribbling away at a file.

Asking him about Gale wouldn’t be the best of ideas, so you largely keep quiet about what you saw. Though, you start to wonder if maybe you were hallucinating those encounters after all, despite having just become sure that they were real. You hate doubting yourself, but between all the drugging and the exhaustion fostered by your misery, it’s hard to parse. You’d been so desperate to see a familiar face that maybe you merely manifested Gale’s image in your mind. Not like it would be the first time an image in your head told you that you were dreaming.

Still, you don’t want to be so doubtful. It has to really be Gale. You saw that shape far too many times for it to be coincidence or a vision of some kind. You stopped dreaming after what Lucius put you through, so why would you suddenly start up again? Unless it’s just been long enough for your mind to settle just enough.

God.

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration at trying to sort this out amidst everything you’re dealing with.

Gale touched you, didn’t they? You felt the skin of their palm on your cheek, so then they must have been real. But…then you struggled to focus on anything. All you saw was blurs of colors on screen at some point, and you can recall constantly dreaming of these kinds of blurs before.

The only way you’ll know for sure is to try interacting with Gale again next time you see them. This next time that you briefly wake from your slumber, you’re again met with the same familiar shadow. Though weary, you try your best to call out to Gale again. You refuse to believe this is a mere dream or hallucination. You can’t be that far gone.

“…Gale?” You again dizzily mumble. Despite how weak the name comes out from between your lips, you are trying your best to push it out and stay awake. You don’t want to waste time.

The figure slightly turns its head, but doesn’t acknowledge you and promptly returns to its original position. This time, their lack of attention to you only brings a wave of hurt upon you. All you want is assurance at this point. You want to affirm that this is real and that you’re not just so drugged up that you’re going crazy.

“Please,” you wearily beg once more. And, once more, you’re ignored.

It feels as though you blink before you’re again met with the sound of voices. Your eyes struggle to come into focus just yet, so you merely listen in on a conversation between Lucius and The Overseer. They’re swapping what you think Is financial jargon that you can’t bring yourself to focus on in your tired state.

Luckily, the pain you had for so long is practically completely gone now. The side effects of the medicine you had to take lingers, however. Eating has started to disgust you and probably will for a little while longer.

You again mindlessly feel your lower abdomen while laying on your back, with your eyes staring toward the ceiling blankly. Nothing seems out of place, at least. It’s beyond you how the men might tell if you’re pregnant when they don’t even bother to acknowledge you most times. Even when Lucius leaves the curtain open, he remains fixated on his work and only keeps you partially in his sights.

As you lay there, you question whether you’re going crazy. Nothing’s changed since your interaction with Gale. Maybe you did see them at least once, and you were so desperate to see them further that you forced yourself to, that you manifested them on your own. You aren’t sure what to think. Nonetheless, you remain firm on your decision: you’ll call as many times as it takes to get them to see you.

Atop the grueling miserable atmosphere your cove behind the curtain veil fosters, being so frequently put under certainly isn’t helping your mind and body. Hopefully the two men watching you won’t just let your mind rot with so much of the drug. They must know the limits of the anesthetic. Lucius sure seemed to when you had your shot a while back, anyway. You wager he must know a lot more about it than the other doctors based on how Nathaniel seemed to speak so cautiously of it whereas the dark-haired man conversely remained confident in his own assessments.

It seems like that period of time was so long ago. Even if by chance you’ve only been here a few days or weeks, it feels like perhaps months. You think a month is long, anyway. You can’t quite remember. Nonetheless, you start to miss being so blissfully unaware of Lucius’ nature. If only you’d never met him or his boss.

But of course, not having known the men before would have made what you’ve endured in your confinement so much scarier. Even if you never had to see Jay die, you’d still be forced to watch the worker get shot. There’s no way whatsoever that you could have avoided such miserable theatrics.

Why do you deserve this, anyway?

Your actions were no worse than your doctor’s. All that’s happened to him is that he’s lost you for a little while. He can still see others if he so chooses, if he’s desperate to fulfill his bodily needs. He hardly cares for anyone else otherwise, so he gets to go back to working quietly to himself and being on top of things without an issue. You’re the one who’s really suffering here, aren’t you? Why? It’s not fair!

Thinking on this only frustrates you further, and all you can do is remain still and start to tear up just slightly. You’re so tired of this place, of this feeling, of doing nothing. You don’t want to fall so much that you’d start wishing for death. You’re trying so hard to stay sane. Even the brief breaks you have from this bed are no longer a brief pleasure for you. Even the sound of The Overseer’s lighter going off beautifully doesn’t do a thing anymore.

And the memory of your friends? It’s becoming harder to remember them so vividly. You can’t really even tell if it’s because it’s been so long, or if you’re just that far gone that everything’s blurred together. You’d believe either. But even now you’ve forgotten what the warmth of your companions’ bodies was like. Trying to imagine is difficult. Even when you join your hands together or touch your own flesh sweetly the way they would and have before, it does nothing. It just isn’t the same.

At some point, you become so desperate that you again try touching between your legs, but this doesn’t bring any immediate pleasure or interest. So, your fingers don’t much linger on or in you for very long.

Trying to avoid letting your light tears transition into loud sobs, you shift over on your side and curl up, bidding your mind to shut out everything you can think of now and instead go numb. The cold air stings at your skin now more than ever. You yearn for some kind of warmth.

There’s another brief period that passes before you see Gale again. In such time, you receive another bath and are fed more warm foods that you no longer have the will to eat. Nonetheless, you always force bites into your maw and eat quickly so that Lucius will leave you alone sooner.

Whenever it’s The Overseer watching you dine, the speed is always quietly appreciated by him. Somehow, and sometimes without his word, you just know he’s faintly pleased by your newfound appropriate behavior around him. Or at least, by the behavior he deems appropriate. If he isn’t silent, he at least occasionally says “good” in response to an act of yours that lines up with his preferences. Not like his intentionally meager attempt at bare minimum praise is wanted. All hearing it does is make you compare yourself to an animal. No doubt he sees you the same way.

Next time Gale’s shape emerges from behind the curtain and by the computer, you try once more to talk to them. This time, you try to reach toward the curtain to attempt pulling it back yourself, but all you can manage to do is cause the thing to shake a little, making the top of it rattle against the metal bar its hanging from. Despite the meager attempt, it manages to catch Gale’s attention.

Finally, they get up from their chair after hitting a few buttons on the console that cause the bright screens to dim slightly. Undoubtedly, they grew more attentive of their previous mistake and took care to correct it.

Finally, they approach you like they had once before. When the curtain is drawn, you’re met once more with a visibly uneasy Gale. They gaze upon you a moment before shaking their head.

“You shouldn’t be awake.”

“Are you real?” You take the opportunity to tiredly question. Despite your blurred vision and slurred speech, you try hard to focus now that you’ve gotten another chance to see the doctor.

Gale gives a deep inhale and subsequent exhale.

“You decide,” they say, their voice low. “Alright?”

You refuse to accept this as an answer.

Though the attempt is weak, you manage to reach your palm out and grab Gale’s right hand. It’s warm and solid.

“You’re here,” you tiredly mumble. “I’m not dreaming.”

Gale watches you quietly, observing your weakened state. As your hand drops from theirs, they gently touch your bare shoulder and kneel by your bedside. They examine your profile, watching as your slumber again starts to take hold.

When you wearily shift your eyes over to look at Gale’s face, you notice them turning their head toward the room entrance and starting at it in thought. In moments, they again turn to you and subtly smile.

“If you think so, then I am here.”

Have they changed their mind?

“I…want to talk to you,” you tell them, though you’re starting to fade again. “I can’t…”

“Another time,” Gale promises. “I’ll see what I can do.”

These are the last words that you cling to for the next bundle of what you think are days. Gale even visits again once more, but this time, you don’t call out. You wait patiently for them to reach you, but they don’t. Why, you’re not sure. Did they lie to you?

Nonetheless, you’re not put under again for a while after the subsequent visit, but you by now know that most times you are, there’s a chance Gale’s going to be in the room with you. It’s not really something you ever considered before, simply because you’d always assumed that the men preferred to keep this room off limits.

It’s clear that the two lording over you just don’t want you interacting with Gale. Judging by how the doctor didn’t even realize you were the one behind the curtain, the pair likely didn’t want Gale knowing it was you at all. You remember it being mentioned that nobody was supposed to know you were here. So far, it’d only been Monica and Lilah, the latter of the two likely not having given a single fuck about telling anyone about your whereabouts. Perhaps she even strung Yosuke along with cruel teases over his predicament if she felt like being cruel to him.

Gale’s emergence, and your subsequent awareness of their presence, leads you to ponder: Maybe, by chance, word of your being alive will reach the other Numbers. You’d thought about the possibility by making noise for Mom to hear over the phone back before your second visit with Monica, but now it seems you have an even greater chance of reaching the others.

Though, with how adamant The Overseer is about certain kinds of secrecy, he’ll know fairly quickly if any word does get out. Even if that fact should dampen your hopes, it strangely doesn’t. This is, after all, the first glimmer of hope you’ve had in a while. It might be unrealistic, but you just want to have something to cling to. Anything.

Remembering your last bout of dreamlike unawareness, you try to shove the thought of Gale’s potential unrealness away. They’re definitely real. You’re sure Gale doesn’t suddenly want to talk to you because they care. If they did care so deeply about the other Numbers, they’d probably not have let someone like Jade or Amber suffer knowing that they had the opportunity to help the girls through their crises. But even if their motivation is a bit selfish, the time away from The Overseer and his gunman would be much appreciated.

You just want a break from the routine. Even if it’s just mundane conversation with the doctor, you’d rather have that than nothing. Gale would be able to acknowledge you and make you feel like you’re still grounded. In turn, they’d still be able to observe you themself. Though your memory of their last appearance is a tinge foggy, you’re sure they were looking back at the door for a reason. They want to observe you. You know they do.

Just this once, you’ll let them.

During the time you’re awake, you anticipate seeing Gale again, though wonder what it is they might do if they’re suddenly so willing to break a rule not to talk to you. Granted, you have no reason to believe they’d actively try to hurt you. If anything, they’re just curious, right? As much as you hate to admit it, you can understand that. You’re the type of person who can’t help wanting to know things yourself.

But whereas Gale’s fascination leads them to do questionable things, even you have your limits. Gale may not pry the way you do—hell, they really don’t need to with how easy it is for them to extract information from people—but they’re still allowing themself to indulge in such criminal activity for the sake of knowing. If Monica’s attempt to coddle the Numbers is a poor way to excuse her decision to work here, then so too is Gale’s reason for being here. Wanting to understand something doesn’t really justify what cruel actions you take to do so.

All you’ve really done is ask questions. The worst thing you can think of having done otherwise is refusing to give important information to people who deserve to know certain things, but even that’s more justifiable when your reason for doing so is to protect them.

This thought again leads you to Cyrus, whose approach to and reason for withholding information is where you drew from. Maybe you’ll ask Gale about him, though you’re not sure they’ll be any more willing to talk than others. The Overseer and Lucius can tell you what they like because they’re the ones in charge. The other doctors, not so much. Gale had even seemed hesitant to say certain things in accordance with their boss’ wishes. Jonathan was like that too, if you recall.

The longer you’re forced to wait, the more your thoughts about your future discussion with the doctor run rampant. You start wondering if they intend to use you just for the hell of it like Lucius had the worker do. Is that some outlandish fear of yours? No, it’s a justifiable one. You’ve been constantly abused in this place, it’s no wonder you’d be so wary.

Of course, someone like Monica had at least enough respect to not touch you as a patient, and Gale’s always been a bit reserved and only forward in specific moments. They’ve never been too rough with you in bed either, unless they felt the need to be firmer. When it wasn’t them trying to do what Yosuke would, you do remember Gale trying to at least be gentle. Nonetheless, the wariness remains.

Your eagerness to speak with them grows so much that the next dose of anesthetic you receive is one you’re much more expectant of than usual. Even Lucius, as he prepares to give it to you, takes note of the unusual gleam of desperation in your eye when you catch sight of the syringe carefully held in his hand next he pulls the curtain back.

To this, he raises his fractured dark brow.

“Eager, are we?”

You note The Overseer hunched over his desk with one hand pressed against the side of his head, and his elbow pressed into the flat surface of his workspace. He’s scribbling furiously away at some files. There’s a finished stack of them to his right, and a smaller pile to his left he’s yet to get to. Judging by the scrunched-up scowl on his face, he’s none too pleased to have had to do all this, or else he’s none too pleased by the contents of each file, whatever those may be. But of course, this man is always busy one way or another. How one can willingly run a place like this and still complain the entire way, if without words, baffles you.

Lucius chuckles when he sees your eyes trail back to the syringe with direness.

“I suppose I’m not so unaccustomed to the sight of such silent begging,” he teases amusedly.

Your eyes widen just slightly at this remark, as you realize his likening of you to a worker. Are you that far gone? Do you honestly look that pathetic? It’s not like you’re begging for sleep because you want to avoid reality this time. You just want to see Gale again. Talking to them might give you a glimpse into what’s going on out there. And…maybe they can help you with what you’re dealing with. It is part of their job to deal with this kind of thing, isn’t it?

Granted, relief might not come so easily. But you could use some advice. Whether or not they’ll really give you any, however, remains to be seen.

“She’s not a toy, Lucius,” The Overseer sternly remarks without bothering to look up from his work. Done with the last page of one file, he skims his work then closes the folder and stacks it atop those to his right before pulling another from the pile on his left. “Finish.”

The dark-haired man above you merely gives a light sigh and does as told without a second thought. You allow him to stick you, remaining flat with your back against the mattress, and with your head slightly turned. Lucius closely eyes you as he pumps your body with the syringe’s contents, though he has little time to linger as his superior orders him to fetch something for him.

After your injection, the curtain is drawn, and you turn on your side, facing the wall while you await your slumber.

It doesn’t come.

You wait and wait, but nothing changes—you’re still awake. Your heart beats a bit quickly as you frantically think on why this might be. Is something wrong? Is your body resisting the drug fully now? Were you given something else instead?

No, you couldn’t mistake the faint green tint of the mostly filled syringe. You’ve accustomed yourself to this dark room enough to where seeing some tinge of color is possible for you. The proximity of the thing didn’t give any reason to doubt what was administered either. Plus, neither man seemed to give off any indication, any subtle hint that they were planning on doing anything different.

You lay there on your side, perfectly still with wide eyes and a running mind. While you hear the men shuffle about and converse lightly, you really do think that they have no idea that you’re still awake.

You refuse to move. Something is evidently wrong, but you won’t let them know unless you have a reason. You don’t want to bother them and risk getting either man mad, and you’re too unsettled by the sudden change in routine to really bother saying anything at all. You can’t really think on why you’re not sleeping, but nonetheless remain panicked and wary.

Does this mean Gale won’t show up, you wonder? No, they likely still would. Maybe they have something to do with what’s going on. Maybe not. You can’t really know unless you see them again.

As time passes, you remain perfectly still and continue to listen to the incessant scribbling and page turning of the Overseer. Your right arm starts to go numb with you laying upon it so long, but you still refuse to move. You’re grateful Lucius didn’t bother to watch you fall asleep. Plus, as soon as the curtain Is drawn, you typically cease to exist in the men’s eyes. This only makes it easier to get away with pretending to be unconscious. There are a few moments where you hear one of the men step near your curtain, so you shut your eyes promptly. Luckily, neither man bothers to peel the veil back once.

Eventually, you’re given something to cling to when you hear Lucius call out to The Overseer.

“Boss.”

Following this is the creaking of the blond man’s chair as he turns in it. You presume he’s looking at the cameras. Or rather, you hope he is. If so, then someone’s-

“Already?” The man questions in annoyance. His scribbling stops. “Fine. Open the door.”

Your heart pounds more as you expect the sound of Gale’s voice to arise any moment. Only when you hear a woman’s instead do your hopes dash.

“What do you need this time?” Lilah’s biting voice begrudgingly questions. “You know I was in the middle of-“

“I know full well. I was expecting you to show up a little later,” The Overseer’s voice sharply calls out. You shudder hearing his upset tone. He’s clearly in no mood for Lilah’s attitude now.

“Well, when your boss suddenly beckons you, you instinctively just drop everything you’re doing in frustration to take care of what he wants right away.”

“Then quit complaining and walk off those frustrations instead. Deliver this stack to the office, then come back to deliver the rest.”

Lilah scoffs. “You must be joking. That’s ‘mommy’s’ job.”

“And now it’s yours,” Lucius speaks for his boss. Somehow, you can just tell he’s slyly smirking at the annoyed woman. “Monica’s busy, and the boss doesn’t want Vanessa anywhere near here right now.”

“I’m assuming because of the runt?” Lilah questions. You hear her step toward The desk and snatch up a pile of the files in her arms. However, she doesn’t walk away just yet. Judging by how The Overseer hasn’t left his place in his chair, you presume Lilah’s right by him now.

“You’re both keeping a lot from me these days,” she remarks bitterly. She’s certainly not barking like before, but you can still vividly hear the anger in her voice. “You don’t have to, you know. I haven’t told anyone anything about her being here. Obviously, I can keep a fucking secret.”

Her voice lowers, then. Softens, even.

“You didn’t used to be this secretive toward the rest of us.”

“Things change,” The Overseer tells her quietly. “You’re still of importance to me. At least be grateful for that.”

You hear Lilah stomp her foot.

“That’s not my point. You’re shutting me out. Hell, even with Milos, you’re-!”

“It’s not your place to ask questions about what I do,” the man in the chair again firmly reminds Lilah, his softer tone dissipating as he cuts her off. “Don’t be stupid. And don’t speak for Milos as if to paint your own dissatisfaction as his—he’s perfectly fine not being as involved. Gives him more time to indulge in his vices during off hours.”

“You already know he drinks on the job anyway,” Lilah bitterly remarks. “Like you care. You’re just being a dick. You’re always like this.”

“Watch your tongue,’ The Overseer warns. “I’m not in the mood today.”

“Bite me, then.”

“I have no interest in indulging your strange desires.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. You leave that out of it,” Lilah crudely shoots back, as if bothered by the comment. “You men love to gossip about your conquests, huh? Gross. I thought Milos would know better.”

“As if I wanted to hear of it anyway,” The Overseer mutters in annoyance.

“If you no longer have an affinity for him then such words should bother you little,” Lucius curiously remarks. “In any case, you have it all wrong—he never said a thing. You were just easy to figure out very early on.”

Lilah makes a disgusted, voiceless noise from her throat.

“I am not easy!” she loudly spits back. “And what do you mean ‘affinity’? You think I loved him like some sick little schoolgirl? That why you’re smiling, asshole?! I only stayed so close to him to piss off ‘mommy’. But I don’t have to bother when she’s turned to hounding Yosuke for attention instead. She’s been on the fucker since he got here.”

“Be quiet,” The Overseer snaps. Oddly, Lilah listens and holds her tongue. “I’m sick of this conversation and I have no time to waste on you. Do your task and be done with it. And I’ve told you not to use Vanessa’s disgusting matronly names in my presence, even in disrespect. I can’t stand the twisted fascination with a false motherhood that’s bloomed in her. I have enough to deal with as it is. She’s been getting worse since it started.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” Lilah spits out before turning her heels and walking off. Neither Lucius nor The Overseer bother to stop her, and remain quiet until the door to the room is again shut. Only once she’s completely gone does The Overseer’s chair again make noise as he turns back to his desk. His previous scribbling continues, with an occasional page turn to be heard.

Lucius gives a throated chuckle. “That went less poorly than usual. You sure she’s not your type?”

“Does it amuse you to pester me like that?” His superior questions back in annoyance. “What a childish jest. I’ve no interest in such women as her, especially ones who don’t act their age. I liken her to some incessantly bratty daughter. I do miss when she was more obedient. I long for the days of her quiet respect.”

“I suppose her thankfulness diminished as she got accustomed to such dreary work. The routine isn’t for everyone.”

The Overseer makes a “hmph” noise through his nose.

“This place changes people. Maybe there’s lead in the walls, or something in the air.”

“And maybe you need a break.”

“What I need is a smoke.”

The scribbling stops. Again, you hear a familiar clothy shuffling of The Overseer fishing for his cigarettes before the lively sound of the kindling lighter goes off. Lucius steps away, and the familiar crystal ashtray can be heard dragging off of the console. You figure Lucius has fetched the thing for his boss.

As always, you hear the calm sounds of a fire started with the flick of The Overseer’s thumb, followed by the prompt shutting of the man’s lighter. The man takes his usual slow drags and exhales loudly into the air. The familiar scent of smoke soon fills the room.

“Do you want a drink as well?” Lucius casually asks his superior, though he only sounds as if he’s partially joking. If anything, it’s a suggestion.

“I’ve no time,” his partner refuses him, then continues his writing. “Not now, anyway. Maybe later.”

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” Lucius remarks lowly, his voice softer than usual. “It’s…been a while.”

“With reason.”

Another silence falls between both men, though this one lasts for a shorter time. More furious scribbling fills the room, its pace even quicker than before. After a moment of it, Lucius asks quietly,

“Something on your mind, boss? You’re being…’fussy’ again.”

“No,” is the sharp reply he’s given. Lucius merely sighs.

“Did her words bother you?”

“No,” The Overseer repeats with the same firm tone. His scribbling does not let up, though it’s briefly interrupted by another closing of the file he’s working on. Again, he reaches for another and begins to work. “Vanessa’s far gone. I truly pity the woman, but I must be firm with her all the same. As if it makes a difference with how willing to laugh in my face she is.”

“Then why the frustration?”

“I don’t know,” The Overseer mutters. “Lilah’s picture of Vanessa is incomplete. Her needless competition with the woman has lent her to far too many lapses in judgement. She doesn’t know everything like she wants to think she does. But at least Lilah listens when she really has to.”

He pauses to impatiently take another violent drag of his cigarette before continuing on with his marking.

“These women are such a frustration,” he complains in annoyance. “I truly pity the men who associate with them. I can’t imagine myself ever having bothered doing the same even if I’d never started running this place and had such time to fool around. To think I ever respected either of them…”

“Lesson learned, I wager,” Lucius laughs softly. “At least your faith in Monica was shirked from the beginning. It’s hard to be disappointed by low expectations.”

“I’d rather not discuss her now,” The Overseer promptly responds between page turns. “She’s another mere woman to me. I figure she’ll end up like the other two if she survives long enough. As it is, Lilah’s already starting to act like the very woman she hates. Honestly…”

“If she survives”? What does that even mean?

“Mm? Well, who has time for women when we have science and medicine?” Lucius casually jests.

“Thank you for at least pretending to understand,” The Overseer dryly responds to his partner’s jest. You’ve never heard him speak so casually before—well, as casual as a man like that can be. Even now, he seems stiff.

You then hear the man pause before leaning forward in his chair. He lets out a long, throated groan.

“Lilah’s outburst has cursed me with another splitting headache.”

“You sure it’s not the lack of sleep?”

“Don’t try to make me again,” The blond man scoffs at this remark. “Tell Gale to postpone their visit until tomorrow. I’m not in the mood to deal with more reports for right now. I’m sure the girl can handle another dose later on.”

“About that, boss—she’s been waking up more frequently,” Lucius notes cautiously. “Gale said someone was moving behind them. If they find out she’s there…”

He trails off. You realize they don’t know that Gale already knows it’s you confined here.

“We should wean her off of heavy doses of the anesthetic for a little while.”

“We can always switch to something not in-house,” The Overseer suggests calmly. You shudder hearing the men speak so casually about what to do with you. Nonetheless, you continue to listen intently. “Stronger. I’ve much preferred her quiet.”

“Sir, that would require me to actually start using oxygen and bringing in equipment. We can’t just switch, besides. Subjects get hooked If we use anything opioid, and everything else we use is more for heavy surgery. They’re not made for long-term use. ‘In-house’ is all we have.”

The Overseer lets out a brief, thoughtful hum. “Mm. I see. What do you recommend?”

Lucius pauses a moment before responding.

“My recommendation is to slow down on the use of our own drug. I’ve dosed her less frequently when she’s alone with me, but pulling back the doses even further will mean she’ll be awake in times you probably don’t prefer. But she’s not completely stupid. She’ll be quiet if she has to. You’ve frightened her enough.”

“As well I should,” his superior sourly comments. He takes another short drag, then exhales. “But fine. I’ll trust your word. Wean her. Further limit the doses as you see fit. That should help ease things a bit.”

Later on, Lilah returns for the rest of the paperwork. This time, she says nothing and merely leaves with her task at hand. You can only imagine she’s at least shooting her boss annoyed glances. You aren’t sure if her silence comes from such annoyance, or if she’s holding her tongue for the man after the previous outburst she had. Though he was snappy with her, you’d imagine that wouldn’t stop her from lashing out needlessly. But of course, you could be wrong. If she respected him once, she must at least respect him a little bit now too, even if begrudgingly.

You struggle to really imagine Lilah being so quiet and obedient to him. The Overseer implied she’d been this way, and even Lucius remarked on some kind of thankfulness. What such a woman as Lilah has to be thankful for is hard to think of.

From what it sounds like, everyone was quite different when they first came. Now you’ve been made aware that Lilah, Milos, and Vanessa were close to The Overseer, likely from the beginning of his operation. Perhaps even Gale if they’re trusted enough to be allowed into this room, though their name didn’t come up.

It sounds as though Lilah was once involved with Milos. She seemed bothered by Lucius’ jests, and by the implication that she was ever trailing him to begin with. Is she ashamed of it? Does she think it’s only her business? You can easily imagine the latter being true.

It’s odd picturing them together. Maybe in the back of your mind, you figured there was something going on between her and Milos based on how Lilah smiled around him. Even if you only saw her do it once, it still surprised you. She’s never really been the type to smile, so long as you’ve known her. You also vaguely remember Micah mentioning that Lilah and Milos had known each other a while, even longer than Micah had known Lilah himself. You guess that explains just why they knew each other so long. Dating. Fucking. Either way, intertwined.

Does Mom like Milos too? Or did she at one point, but no longer? You’d not gotten the impression that the two were involved whatsoever. Mom treated Milos kindly, spoke to him livelily. Thing is, the woman treats most all the men with the same manner, so distinguishing any past affairs other than Yosuke isn’t easy. Either way, it’s hard to think of such a crude man being soft on anyone at all.

As for Mom, she was, from what you’ve heard, always a bit forward and unwell. But even The Overseer thinks she’s gotten worse with time. Lilah’s supposed obedience is strange to hear of, since you can only picture her as the conniving bitch she is now. But, perhaps she was once a little close to The Overseer. You suppose maybe she had once liked him and stopped liking him the longer she got to know him. And if it’s not the case Lilah ever cared for her superior, then maybe she just was once attached to this place and suddenly wasn’t. But the way she spoke to him made it seem like she was indeed quite attached, and perhaps still is. Even Lucius spoke somewhat similarly when he expressed disappointment at being tasked with watching you when it meant he wasn’t going to be able to stick by his boss’ side.

What’s strangest to you is that Lilah’s words made it sound like she liked to receive pain just as much as she liked to give it. And from Milos of all people? You can hardly see it. But if it’s the case she’s willing to take that role, it’s no wonder why she’d have ever attached herself to a man like The Overseer: Someone so callous and cruel, cold and unyielding. Perhaps she only likes to receive such pain from people like him who intrigue her, and never anyone else. Is that why she was so offended that Milos might have spoken casually of her? You figure that’s it. Lilah’s always prided herself in being monstrous to those she deems beneath her. Numbers, especially. The image of her vulnerability would evidently be something she’d want to hide.

You also wonder: are Lilah and Mom catty because of Milos? Or were they already annoyed with one another beforehand? You can’t really tell, nor can you picture Mom hounding anyone seriously but Yosuke. She’s only ever gone after other men for the sake of getting some attention, but with Yosuke, it’s always felt different. Maybe she’s a little wishy-washy when it comes to her choice in men, as she is with her attitude and perhaps her very feelings.

What might have Lilah been referring to when talking about her, anyway? What did The Overseer do to her? Obviously, he’s hurt the woman many times before because of her disobedience to him, but that must have started somewhere. Maybe it’s his fault she got worse because his harsh attempts to control her only drove her further down. You can’t imagine his constant hurting of the vile woman didn’t leave a serious mark on her.

More and more questions arise, and all this does is frustrate you because you can’t know the answers to anything. However, you guess it at least gives you something to distract yourself with. Laying here without being put to sleep only forces you to endure more grueling time awake. You can’t even shuffle around, really. Any time you do try to move, you have to be extremely careful. Granted, Yosuke has said you toss and turn in your sleep. Would it be more suspicious if you didn’t move?

The thought of your doctor causes the memory of his holding you after falling off the bed to arise. He’d looked so concerned then. Despite everything, it was one moment in which you really think he cared about you.

He must really miss you.

If Mom’s tailing him in the hopes of taking advantage of the empty slot you left, then that must mean he’s vulnerable to begin with. So, he must genuinely have been affected by your disappearance after all.

Your fingers curl into your palm.

You don’t miss him. You don’t. Even if it’s difficult to fully remember what you’d written, you do at least remember you’d left him an honest letter speaking so much about how tired you were of his treatment of you before you left. The strength you felt then isn’t what you’re feeling now, but you know that if and when you get out of here, you can eventually regain that strength. For now, you try to remind yourself how awful Yosuke was to you. You miss the others, not him.

He means nothing to you.

He means. Nothing. To you.

Later on, your cove is again intruded upon by Lucius. He catches you off guard since you were so deep in thought that you’d not paid attention to the sound of his footsteps approaching. You figure pretending to be asleep isn’t worth it, though he doesn’t much seem bothered seeing you awake. You gather, then, that enough time must have passed that he anticipated your waking to begin with. So, for now, you’re safe.

“Rise and shine, princess,” he greets you sourly. “Sit up. It’s mealtime.”

You silently do as told and rise. The moment you’re up, the man hovering over you shoves a tray into your lap. He stands there this time, watching your meager attempts at eating. The warmth of your food feels nice against your tongue, but you can’t really much enjoy the flavor. It’s some kind of seasoned fish, you think.

As you silently dine, you look over at the room only to notice that The Overseer has left. You were so focused on your thoughts you hadn’t even heard the door open. But his absence does leave you a tinge less anxious. His sour attitude had you holding your breath. When he gets this way, he’s easy to rile up.

It’s odd you know that now. How long must you have been here to know so much about him without really even speaking much to the man? Between bites, you can only ponder on it.

“Have you healed by now?” Lucius suddenly questions. This causes you to pause your eating and stay still. Lucius scowls slightly at your hesitance. “Shall I check?”

“No,” you finally speak up, though your voice feels hindered and dry. “I-I’m feeling okay now.”

“Hm. I’d ask Monica to confirm it, but evidently my superior isn’t much pleased to have had you walking about so freely,” the man responds casually, waving a hand about.

“Does he hate her?” You lightly ask, not letting on that you’d heard the earlier conversation between the men. Lucius smiles.

“Of course not. Do you?”

You look down then, away from his dark gaze. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not. No doubt the respect for Monica is low, but you have no clue whether The Overseer and Lucius genuinely hate the woman. In any case, you don’t want to examine anything on Lucius’ profile to try guessing what he’s thinking.

“N...no,” you finally respond after a moment’s hesitation. “…I can’t forgive who she chooses to be. But I think she’s just misguided.”

Lucius laughs to himself. “Well, I suppose we finally have something we both agree on.”

More time passes, and you find that you’re not anesthetized quite as regularly now. It takes a bit of time before you get another dose, and only then do you finally think you’ll have the audience you’ve been desperately wanting.

You note The Overseer dressing in his suit jacket and carefully grooming himself in the mirror on his cabinet door. You suppose he’s going out to something important. Again, Lucius notes your expectant expression when your eyes catch sight of the syringe in his hand.

He frowns.

“You’re acting like a child,” he notes, his eyes focused on your face. “Why do you want this so badly?”

He trails your cheek with his cold fingertips, making your eyes shift uncomfortably away.

“Will you tell me?” He questions, his voice playfully soft. You say nothing, though this only amuses the man towering above you. He grins amusedly.

“Lucius, don’t dawdle,” The Overseer warns from the other side of the room. Even from as far away as you are, you can see him glancing your way using the mirror. His reflection’s grey eyes watch you and Lucius sternly. “I need you attentive.”

He shuts the cabinet once he’s ready and heaves an uneager sigh. Meanwhile, Lucius does as asked and quickly injects you with the anesthetic, though he again doesn’t linger to watch you sleep.

“I know,” he tells his superior as he turns away and shuts the curtain. “Be safe, boss.”

“Mm. I won’t be too terribly long,” The Overseer promises his partner. “Keep an eye on things.”

Again, you don’t pass out. You remain unnerved as to what might be the problem. The men were discussing weaning you off the anesthetic, but you had no idea it was this bad that you’re not reacting to it at all—if that even is what’s wrong. Still, your main concern now is pretending to be asleep and not stirring much to prevent suspicion from arousing in Lucius. He usually keeps the curtain open, but he’s been closing it more often because of the constant distractions from his boss. Even now, he doesn’t bother opening it. But you know that at any moment, he might draw it and watch you. Perhaps if you keep facing away from him you won’t risk being caught.

But why would it be a big deal anyway? It’s no risk to you, really. It’s a drug-related matter the men would have to deal with, isn’t it?

God, you’re thinking too much. Frustrated, you shut your eyes and keep facing the wall, curled up where you are. Naked, tired, annoyed at yourself and at your inability to know things. How can someone like Cyrus stand this constant misery? Knowing that there’s unknowns, being relentlessly abused by insane and sadistic doctors?

“Meditation…”

The word rings in your ear. Somehow, even with the foggy memories you have of your family, you hear such a word in Cyrus’ voice clearly. You even almost shiver with how real it sounds, as if he’s there with you.

Even so, you can’t move to check. You know he isn’t there anyway.

You slowly open your eyes and blankly stare at the bullet hole engraved in the wall. You hadn’t forgotten what the young man taught you and Lav. Merely, it’s been so long since he did, and you’ve been so distracted that you just never really considered it. Lav had taught you to take your body back for yourself in her own way, too. You’d been reaching for your lower body a few times so far just to try stimulating yourself, just to try feeling something.

You miss the sensation of pleasure. Not the kind the doctors force you to feel against your will, but the kind you were lovingly given by those you trust. You long for the sensation again. But you aren’t sure you’ll be able to feel it that way when you return. You worry there might be a rift between you, Lav, and Cyrus since you just up and disappeared on them. It isn’t your fault, no. You’re sure they’ll know that too, but this doesn’t prevent the guilt from washing over you. You curiosity can make you act a little selfishly, you think.

Nonetheless, you’re too far from the point of doing those things you were taught just to make yourself feel better. If just touching yourself a little doesn’t do anything, then you’d imagine meditation wouldn’t ether. Not right now. You’re too low, too tired, too out of it. You’re not ready.

You almost gasp at the sudden sound of the door opening. You’d been so focused again that you once more neglected to sense any movement prior. Your head just subtly turns so that your ear can better position itself toward the noise. Your eyes are wide in your concentration.

Finally, you hear them.

“Doctor Marcellus,” Gale’s softer voice greets your guardian. “I’m surprised you’re alone this time.”

“The boss had things to do,” Lucius remarks. You hear him step toward the door, but he stops quite suddenly. “As do I, in fact. Shall I run a quick errand in your adamance on privacy?”

“I do prefer the quiet. I like to focus,” Gale laughs softly in response.

Lucius is trusting them? Just like that?

Of course they’d have established some kind of trust. Gale was allowed to be in here alone with you under the expectation that they’d not peel back the curtain. They only did when they realized who it was back here. Even so, it’s clear the men trusted Gale enough not to act so rashly, or else they’d never even bother letting the doctor in. The boss and Lucius may have simply underestimated their associate’s curiosity and thirst for observation. Though, that seems odd given that Gale’s undoubtedly been here a while. Then again, they’ve always been good at hiding their intentions from others. Perhaps they can fool even their superiors.

Nonetheless, Gale’s done a lot of work for The Overseer. If the man didn’t trust them, he’d have not bothered giving Gale what they wanted with Six. He let Yosuke have you, after all. A reward for his loyalty, as no doubt Six was for Gale’s. What a mistake it was to let Yosuke have you. The Overseer greatly underestimated your doctor’s capacity for obsession.

You push the subject out of your mind and focus again on what’s happening now. If the doctors’ superior trusts Gale, then it’s no surprise that Lucius does too. You never got the impression that Gale was free to come and go as they please the way someone like Lilah is. Perhaps they do have more freedom, then. You never expected it.

“He and you both, it seems,” Lucius lightly scoffs in response to the thin-bodied Gale. “Now don’t linger too much. We’re going to have to limit you to fifteen minutes for a while.”

“Fifteen?” Gale remarks with rising concern. “Why so short a time? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“Something we’re trying,” is the gunman’s only response. “With the worker. We’d rather you not linger while we do it. Don’t worry your head about it and just be glad you’re getting any time at all. In any case, leave your notes on his desk when you’re done.”

“Yes sir.”

Your heart pounds relentlessly hearing Gale’s voice. You knew they were real. Knowing now that you weren’t crazy is relieving. But-

Suddenly, the curtain is peeled back, and the dragging metal noise of its topmost rings against the bar only shakes you. Nonetheless, you shut your eyes and refuse to turn around.

“Ten,” Gale speaks soft and low, murmuring your name. You feel their hand upon your shoulder. “We’re safe. You don’t have to hide.”

You remain locked in place. Despite having desperately wanted to see Gale again, your body’s betraying you. Why?

You gasp as Gale gently cups one of your hands and brings it up a bit, more toward them. The chain falls from your wrist, each link clinking softly against the other.

“I didn’t think he’d do something like this to a Number,” the doctor mumbles to themself with a disheartened tone. Your fingers instinctively curl around their gentle palm.

“This isn’t a trick, right?” You quietly ask. “You’re not just testing me?”

Gale softly laughs. “No. I promise. Now look at me, won’t you? I won’t hurt you.”

You don’t know if they’re lying, but you have no reason to believe they would. Hesitantly, you turn your head and look over at them, noting their holding of a clipboard with papers and a pen securely attached to it by its clip.

Seeing Gale’s soft smile is relieving after another long period of seeing nothing but Lucius atop you. Oddly, you even miss Monica’s smile too. Not once does your gaze falter from your guardian’s face as you sit up while still held tightly by Gale’s hand. Only once you’re up do they let you go and instead gently cup your cheek.

“There,” they coo. “It’s alright.”

For as little as you would prefer their touch otherwise, right now you need it desperately. Their hand is warm against your flesh. Any small warmth now is welcome.

You bring your hand over theirs and hold it there, relishing in the warmth a moment as you close your eyes.

“What happened?” Gale asks, their voice ever calm. They don’t bother to question your intimate action or tease you for it. Evidently they can sense you’re touch-starved and allow you to indulge in this. You’re grateful for at least that. “You’ve been gone for a while.”

“They’re punishing him for what he did,” you say lowly. “And me for what I’ve said. I can’t stand it here.”

“Punishing Yosuke?” Gale questions to themself. “I noticed that he hasn’t really been around. I knew you disappeared and that he was going without a Number. I just didn’t know why. I guess my boss is trying a different kind of punishment than usual.”

They sigh.

“I warned Yosuke not to do something stupid.”

You slowly drop your hand and leave it in your lap with the other. “Why am I awake? Did you set this up?”

“Yes,” the kindly doctor admits, again smiling. “You’re awake because you were never given the anesthetic. I switched the bottle with a placebo last time I was here. It’s one we use for training new employees so that they make injections precisely as we expect them to, though it’s been a while since we’ve really needed it. Because I know where there aren’t cameras, it was easy to take.”

They look down, though remain smiling.

“I did something that’ll get me in trouble, yes. But I admittedly wanted to see you, just as you wanted to see me.”

“To observe me?”

“Yes.” Gale makes no attempt to hide it. They again fixate their icy gaze onto you. “You know a little how I am by now.”

Gale then sits beside your legs on the mattress, their body slightly tilted so that they can keep their feet grounded on the floor.

“But I wanted to see you too. I admit I’ve missed you. I usually do miss my patients, even if I’m not supposed to really talk about them when they’re gone.”

You look away. “You’re not even a little concerned by my state?”

“I am,” Gale retorts without a second thought. “You look sickly compared to how I remember you being before. I can’t help worrying now and again about the things I see. I just often can’t do much about them.”

Sickly? You’ve been fed well and done nothing but sleep. How can you look so worn by doing nothing? The times you’ve seen yourself in the mirror, you haven’t been able to tell that you looked different. Likely because you were accustomed to gradually seeing your declining state that any changes didn’t look like changes at all. Though, you’ve admittedly had a hard time looking at your reflection in general with how disconnected you feel from yourself when doing so.

Gale raises a hand slightly. “And do keep your voice down—I don’t want to raise any suspicion. I know Doctor Marcellus is gone, but both he and my superior sometimes wait by the door.”

“And what if he comes in?”

“Well, we have cameras to help us prepare for that, right?”

Only then do you realize one of the computer screens is on, displaying a feed of the hall. The area is luckily still empty.

“Why are you taking a risk like this so suddenly?” You question the doctor. “Even if it is out of curiosity, isn’t it not worth the consequence? I thought you of all people would know better.”

“I know that sometimes we do stupid things because we can’t help ourselves,” Gale admits. “I knew your doctor would. I knew you would. Everyone here has done it at least once. Even those who are loyal to this place, though some learn quickly how to either get away with it or stop doing it. I only advised you to be careful. That’s all I can really do in that situation.”

They exhale through their nose as if bothered, but do keep up their smile for you.

“I know I’ll get in trouble. He always finds out things one way or another the things we do under his nose, like I said before. If he doesn’t learn, his partner does. But for now, I just want to take the opportunity. Both of them give me privacy when I’m here because they know I won’t take the information I learn to anyone but them. Even when I’ve made little mistakes, I’ve always been faithful. But just as you can’t help yourself, neither can I. Unfortunately, I can’t exactly report this. I can’t even record it. So it’s not really of benefit to my research. Only to my intrigue.”

“What research?” You demand.

“I’m free to observe as I like, Ten. So I do,” says Gale in response. “I log everything I can. I’ve been writing quite a lot about how this place has affected its prisoners. I shouldn’t tell you, but by now you already know we’ve been watching you. The ‘illusion’, so to speak, is broken for you as a subject of observation. It sometimes happens in such research.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that this is the case, but it still unsettles you. Gale’s free to do as they please here. It’s a playground for them. Of course they’d take the opportunity to watch you.

“So why can’t you report this too?”

“My boss reads every note I write,” Gale explains. They then start to scribble on their clipboard. “Speaking of, perhaps I should write something down for today. I’ve watched this place enough to know the more mundane patterns of behavior. The routines. It shouldn’t be hard to falsify something believable.”

“Doesn’t he trust you?” You question. “How wouldn’t he know when you’re lying to him?”

“I’m a good liar,” Gale remarks plainly without removing their eyes from their page. “You already know that, yet can still never tell when I’m lying, right?”

“Not usually,” you admit, curling yourself up and tucking your knees to your chest. You lean on them tiredly. “But he’d know you have the capacity to lie to him if he knows what you’re capable of with the Numbers.”

“Yes,” Gale answers. They remain unburdened knowing this. “He's not stupid, and I know this. We both have to maintain a level of trust with one another, and he punishes me where appropriate, same as anyone. But we’re both…similar, somewhat. We’re both so dedicated to our craft. Our work. Me, I want to know more and do more without the hindrance of review boards or governmental interference. In the older days, morally questionable experiments were carried out more frequently. There was little regulation, and many people suffered. But it was through that suffering that we came to understand as much about the human mind and about human behavior as we do now.”

“That’s twisted,” you bitterly comment. “I guess I expect no less from anyone who works here.”

You expect them to remark on the hypocrisy of you wanting their touch while despising them all the same. Yet, they don’t. Again, you’re surprised, but thankful.

“I’d expect you wouldn’t understand,” Gale responds. After a while of writing, they put their pen back in its place and leave the clipboard casually in their lap. You glance down at the page, but can make out none of their handwriting. It’s horribly messy. You recall only glimpsing Gale’s handwriting once on a note they left you. It was back when they gave you the journal.

You don’t want to remember that.

“My superior understands more than anyone how freeing it is not to have limitation,” Gale goes on. “He’s dedicated to his work, and free to do as he likes. He allows me that same freedom as a privilege. It's a part of why I stay.”

“Then why read your work if he's so 'lenient'?”

“Not to censor it, if that’s what you think. Merely to gauge what I’m learning,” Gale remarks. “And likely to make sure I’m not learning what I shouldn’t. There are secrets he has that even I don’t know. Nonetheless, I think it's fair. We both give each other what the other wants. And even when he has to be cruel with me, he still understands me. I do truly admire him.”

“Admire? Or love?” You question, watching Gale’s slightly flushed face as they blissfully think upon their superior. The doctor merely snaps back to, blinking a bit and looking at you. They then smile once more.

“Oh, Ten,” they softly laugh. “Most everyone here has looked positively upon the man to some degree. Just as much as they’ve despised him. He’s both cruel and kind; both sides of the same coin. It’s hard not to think positively of him when he’s at his best, but it’s also not hard to think of him as despicable when he’s so harsh with us all the same. Some of us are grateful to him, others do indeed admire his work and his drive and his capacity to be forgiving when he chooses. For as harsh as he’s been with me, even I see the positives in the things he does. You don’t because you really don’t know him.”

“I’ve seen enough,” You grumble. “I hate him. I won't apologize for saying it, nor would he care that I did.”

“He’s hard on his prisoners,” Gales does not dispute you. “Moreso than any doctor. Your perception is fostered by your exposure only to his cruel side. It’s understandable. Expected, even.”

They again take your hand and lean in, almost whispering,

“Will you tell me what he’s done?”

“Why should I?” You try to keep the upper hand in case their intentions are malignant. Even if you want to believe their words and their kindness, you still do have wariness. Naturally, you fail to keep that upper hand. Gale merely gives another soft laugh in amusement.

“You called me, remember?” They remind you without hesitation, calling out your weak bluff. Their fingers gently curl around your palm. “I see how you receive my touch, Ten. You’re desperate. You and I want each other right now, for our own reasons. I want to learn, and you…”

They lean closer and kindly kiss your cheek. “You want company. Even if it’s that of someone like me.”

You turn away and blush. “I don’t want you to touch me that way. You said-“

“I won’t,” Gale promises. Such a promise only reminds you of the one your doctor made before you were taken away. Even after he made it, he still hovered over you, touched you against your will.

Gale chuckles gently. “Even if I wanted to, fifteen minutes isn’t much. I personally like to take my time, unlike other men here. In any case, with such short a time to be together, we’ll have to cut our conversations short. We’ll have our discussions in increments.”

They pull out a fine, silver wristwatch from their pocket and examine its face briefly. You suppose they’re allowed to bring something that isn’t traceable here. You never knew they had a watch at all, but perhaps Gale just never wears the thing while in the presence of the Numbers. With reason, of course.

“So you’ll keep coming? Like this?” You question, looking on at Gale eagerly.

They smile warmly at you when their icy gaze again moves toward your profile. “Your eyes lit up asking me that. I’m glad. You seemed so miserable when I first saw you here.”

“I still am…” You remind them. “Even when another doctor saw me, I took for granted the time I had away from here.”

Gale blinks in surprise. “Another doctor…?”

They then stop themself and shake their head. Tucking the watch back in their pocket, they mutter,

“Ah, later. Our time’s almost up.”

“Already?” You look on at them disappointedly. Gale merely smiles and bids you to lay back down. Hesitantly, you do so.

“Give me your arm, won’t you?” They ask. You pause a moment, unsure of why they’re asking at all. Nonetheless, you do offer it to them. Gale then pulls out a small syringe. Your eyes widen when you see it.

“But why-“

“It’s better that we at least try to fool them,” Gale explains quickly. “It’s a small dose, Ten. It’ll be just enough to leave you asleep for a bit. Enough to keep suspicion away. I’m no fool. If there’s anything I can do to prolong the inevitable and have more time to get what I desire, then I’ll do it.”

Understanding this, you allow them to inject you via your upper arm, same as once before. You lay flat on your back and lean back against the pillow until the injection is done. Rather than discard the syringe, Gale caps it and puts the thing back in their pocket, evidently to dispose of it privately elsewhere. They’re being careful.

The gentle doctor pets your head a moment before leaning down to speak quietly in your ear.

“If you want to ask me anything, save it for next time,” the say lowly. They give your cheek a light kiss. “Sweet dreams.”

The curtain is carefully drawn, and you lay there awaiting your slumber. Oddly, you’re a bit glad to have the anesthetic again. You’re now eagerly awaiting your next meeting with Gale. You have so many things to ask them that you feel like you’re going to burst. It’s likely they feel the same. But, you know you both have to wait.

You soon hear Lucius return, and a part of you wonders if this really is all a trick. If maybe he’s setting you up and Gale’s kindness toward you is a charade. It’s all too convenient: the drawn curtain, Lucius’ distraction after injecting you, Gale’s sudden eagerness to cooperate with you. All of it. You don’t want to believe you’re being fooled, but you know better now to be on your toes.

But even if it is a trick, what is there for either Gale or Lucius to gain? Gale gets to observe you, sure. But Lucius?

Is it a game for him? Is he toying with you?

Is he going to kill you?

Stop it.

You gain nothing by panicking over it. What’s done is done. You can only wait to see what will happen. You don’t want to distrust Gale now that you have someone familiar to you that won’t inherently try to be awful for no reason. Thinking on it a bit, their desire to observe you is, you suppose, neutral. All you really have to worry about is incurring the wrath of Lucius and, especially, The Overseer. But you’d imagine if this is at all Lucius’ doing, and if he is attempting to pull something, he’s not about to just let his boss know about it so suddenly. The Overseer would never waste his time playing games like that. If Lucius is in on this with Gale, then their boss is no part of it.

Your only options now are to go along with this, or rat Gale out. The latter might get you more respected by the men, if only a little. But you’re not really holding your breath. Besides, would getting Gale in trouble really make you feel better? Would even a tinge of praise from either man for turning them in do anything for you?

It’s not worth it. You don’t think so.

Your eyes flicker in the direction of the console’s shape from behind the curtain. You question if there are even cameras in the room. Should there be? Does The Overseer prefer his privacy? In any case, there’s a camera by the entrance, so there’s no way it’s not at least partially secure. Plus, the armed men are both here all the time. One, the other, or both. It’s not exactly a place that can be broken into. But wouldn’t The Overseer know that not securing the inside of his domain lends it to being used as a place of secrecy for those he does trust enough to enter it regularly? Gale’s willing to do something like this so close to him, right under his nose even after all their talk of respecting him. And Lucius has no qualms about doing as he pleases even when he is caught, knowing that he’s protected because of his superior’s closeness to him. It’s mere favoritism.

Maybe you’re overthinking it. The Overseer made it clear that little things do slip by him when he mistakenly believed Lucius was responsible for hurting you directly. And, all this time, other doctors have said things and done things he’s not noticed, or perhaps has chosen not to. But, as you’d struggled to admit with Yosuke, you’re sure the boss is still human. He tires, he becomes angry, he expresses his desires and hatred much like anyone else. He’s merely an evil man, but still flawed like a human.

Gale suggested their boss will eventually find out what they’ve done. They know what they’re doing won’t last. You should prepare for that inevitability yourself. It’s pointless to hope for a good outcome here. But this time, it’s not wholly your fault. With Monica, you were the one pressing for information until she stopped you. Maybe that’s the only reason she got off without an issue, and why you did too. Gale, on the other hand, is the one pressing this time. They could have said no to you when you begged to see them, to talk to them.

But they couldn’t help themself.

You sigh and turn over on your side again, maintaining your earlier position so as to avoid seeming suspicious when you do pass out.

Perhaps thinking of something else, then: What will you ask Gale? You’re willing to accept them using you for information, and using you to learn about how you’ve been feeling and what you’ve endured purely for the sake of observation and fulfilling their own personal interests. If their presence means you’re distracted from the pain of your confinement, then fine. But you should be able to gain something from this too.

Gale was wrong when they only said you wanted touch. You just want to be noticed and treated with some amount of dignity, after a long time of enduring nothing but lonely misery. Touch is only a mere part of it, but maybe they know that and just aren’t saying it. Gale’s no Cyrus or Lav. They can’t fix you with touch the way those two can. But, for now, this will do.

The proximity is a little awkward, but it makes you feel better knowing you’re proximal to someone who won’t beat you needlessly. Gale might toy with you, but they’d never actively hurt you the way the men do.

The thought of proximity only brings you back to an old conversation with Gale. They’d suggested something about proximity and sameness having to do with attachment, you think. Remembering it doesn’t make you feel any better. It only reminds you of the forced coupling of Five and Six. You want to be happy for them, and you are. But Gale’s role in it was despicably deceptive.

But you wonder—does Gale attach themself to The Overseer because of those same factors? They’re here so often, and you never really knew. You suppose that Gale was always out and about. Like a few other doctors, you rarely saw them around unless it was for a specific reason. They never strolled by the office or waited by the gate for anyone. They were always just missing. Doing things in the background, you figure.

Gale even said they think they and The Overseer are similar. How so? Just in their love of research? In their callousness?

No, Gale’s objectively far kinder than their boss. They’ suggested you just don’t know him. How could you ever come to know a man like that? Gale almost seemed taken aback, even subtly offended that you rejected that man so quickly, even in saying they expected such a response. But, they said they both admire and are frustrated by the boss’ behavior. He’s cruel, no doubt. But you struggle to imagine the man as kind. He’s only shown even an inkling of kindness to his partner in the form of forgiveness and leniency.

Why is everyone so fascinated with this man? Lilah, Lucius, now Gale? Perhaps even Mom, once. Unless it was the other way around, but you doubt The Overseer was ever interested in anyone for any reason beyond professional. He appears disgusted by most women. Especially ones like the one he’s stuck working with. What must he have done to Mom, you wonder? What was their relationship? Who were they both before this?

You’ve heard of Mom from Yosuke that she’s a good worker. That she’s smart and capable, and good at what she does—whatever that might be, or whatever it was, since Micah’s replaced her role for the most part. It’s difficult to imagine Mom so dedicated to her work knowing how she is now.

Your heart skips a beat at you having thought of Micah again. Not once did the man really cross your mind while here. Last time you saw him he’d tried to scare you, then insulted you for being so childish. He hurt you so much, yet he’d told you to shape up and stop being so afraid. He said that you wouldn’t last without doing so. Even Lilah suggested it.

You never thought his advice would be something you’d want to cling to. But you wish dearly to overcome this and be less afraid. You’re so tired of the feeling. If you’re not here shivering in fear, you’re numb, tired, and weak. You want to be more than that. Better than it.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear Lucius return to the room and greet Gale casually. The two start to talk, but the anesthetic has begun to affect you enough to hinder your ability to focus on what they’re saying. Based on a few key words, you think Gale’s about to leave since their time was up.

For as little as you respect their role here, you quietly thank the doctor for their kindness, and for their touch. Even if their gentleness might have been feigned, and even if it was only for a small moment, you’re glad you were awake for it.

Chapter 65: Struggle

“We’ll have to be quick.”

The room is again empty of all other bodies aside from Gale’s and yours. They’ve by now taken to sitting by your bedside in the wheeled chair typically placed by the computers. Upon their wrist is their watch, though its face is on the underside rather than atop. When they entered the room, they’d not worn it. Only when Lucius left did they slip the thing around their wrist.

As before, they falsify notes of theirs, scribbling casually away and telling lies on paper like it’s nothing to them. A common practice. You wonder what stops them from lying on their own personal reports too, if The Overseer reads them. You’re sure he anticipates Gale would lie, but of course, you have no clue whether the doctor would have a reason to lie at all when they’re observing things for their own sake. It baffles you.

As you watch Gale scribble away, you wonder whether they’re secretly just writing notes about you, since you continue to remain wary of their intentions and whether or not they’re plotting with Lucius. Not like you can just ask to see the notes.

The way Gale spoke, you really did want to believe they were just here to observe you out of their own intrigue. But then they went and followed this up by saying they were a “pretty good liar”. You can’t know what to make of it, only that you should stay alert.

As you sit there on your bed, you’re surprised to really be talking to Gale at all. You half-expected their subsequent visits to not come; expected that, if this were truly them breaking rules, The Overseer or Lucius would immediately know that Gale had done something wrong. But nothing really happened after their initial discussion with you.

Even in the lion’s den, things can apparently go unnoticed.

As usual, you’d woken up shortly after Gale drugged you and laid there until your next brief break from the routine. Any time you looked closely at Lucius, he didn’t appear much different than usual. His expression had been the same, his mannerisms the same, and so on. Nothing was out of place. The only thing of note was that Lucius caught wind of your eyeing him and remarked on it.

“Is there something on my face?” He’d questioned you forwardly. Only after he brought to attention your acute observation of him after so long of avoiding his gaze did you finally lay off.

“You don’t think he’ll notice you switched out the bottles?” You remain wary as you watch Gale scribbling away. Every detail worries you. Reasonably so, you think.

Gale can clearly see how bothered you are, since they try to keep a calm smile for you when they glance up from their work.

“You worry too much,” they remark. “The placebo looks identical to the real thing. Besides, I’ll be the one taking the fall for this.”

“You claim to know your boss so much, yet you don’t think he’ll hurt me for this too?”

“He’ll hurt you regardless, even if it isn’t because of a doctor’s actions,” Gale responds without a hitch. You suppose it’d be hard to disagree. “I can’t protect you from him. But I’ll take the blame willingly and shelter as much of the blow as I can. It wouldn’t be the first time I got a little too curious.”

Despite their grim words, Gale remains polite and calm.

“The only thing you can do when you deal with him is remain docile and obedient. Take the pain he gives, and look into his eyes with respect. Not fear. He may be far less horrible to you if you do.”

“I can’t help my fear,” you remind them. “My body shakes when I’m scared. I struggle to speak, and I can’t do much of anything.”

“It’s to be expected,” says the gentle doctor. “You’re not the first to react that way to this place. But do keep in mind that my boss has gone on a long time watching fearful responses. He sickens of them easily. As a patient, you’ll earn his respect, if only marginally, by being obedient to him. Doctors he respects much more easily. But it’s also easy to taint his perspective of you. Like with Momma, for instance. He begrudgingly puts up with her but hates who she is now. Same with Lilah.”

You shake your head. “Won’t he lose respect for you too for doing this?”

Gale finally stops their writing.

“No. He’ll be upset, but he’s sometimes willing to give second chances. It depends wholly on the person and the situation. With me, I disappoint him in some moments, but he always keeps me close anyway. Evidently not as close as some people, but certainly closer than others. Not just because he has to, but in part because he recognizes my interests and respects my role as a professional.”

“But does he respect you?”

Gale smiles. “Of course, in his own way. I don’t act out much, and even when I do, it’s never with the intent to offend him. He knows my interests lend me to prying. It’s usually harmless, but punishments are nonetheless expected. Both of us know this. But as I said, he’s more lenient with some than others.”

“Like Lilah?”

Gale sighs. “Lilah’s part of his inner circle. I don’t much know the two’s history with one another. Who my superior truly is or was remains mysterious even to me. I know some things. I can even read his face and tell his intentions most times, just not always. So, I don’t know everything. Like I said, he has secrets of his own.”

“You don’t think he’s stringing you along for any reason?” You question them. What they’re saying and what you’ve come to know of The Overseer is highly unusual and contradictory. You can’t imagine the man being outwardly soft on anyone. Is Gale affected by this man’s wiles enough to where even they can be fooled by him? They seem so willing to give into their boss. To defend him.

Then again, they do that with everyone, it seems. They’ve spoken of several doctors before, always admitting that they’re capable of awful things and have troubling personalities and vices. Nonetheless, Gale always find something positive about others.

Gale had always stricken you as someone so sly. They’ve always been able to read people, to know what they might be thinking or feeling even before those people can place it themselves. To see them leaning so heavily on their boss, defending him without a second thought…

They’re either a sick person who sees no wrong in awful things so long as it gets results, or they’re afflicted by this place. Perhaps even imprisoned by it. You never expected that someone who’s so observant of the human mind, of human behavior, would be so broken.

Everyone’s a slave to this man. Mom, Gale, Lilah, Monica…even people like Yosuke. The Overseer is merely using them. The only one he truly respects is his own partner. Lucius goes behind his superior’s back so often, yet he is the only one The Overseer readily pardons. Others, he punishes.

If he hardly respects someone like Lilah, though, then why put up with her at all? He’d mentioned seeing her as a “bratty daughter”, but a daughter nonetheless. He must be willing to shelter her, even if begrudgingly because of her attitude. Were they close? Did he respect her work like Gale’s? You’d ask if he even loved her, but you still can’t imagine the man loving anyone. He doesn’t appear to attach himself to anyone. Even though he accepts Lucius and speaks casually with him, you can’t see him admitting he loves the man at all, in any capacity. He called him his “brother”. Perhaps that’s as close to the concept of “love” as he’ll get. It’s respect and acceptance. Even favoritism, as you’d noted prior.

“I admit I do follow him more than I probably should,” Gale acknowledges your question. Though their words are melancholic, their tone remains stagnant. It’s hard for you to place what they might be thinking. “I’m aware of the horrors of this operation, and of the horrors of these men. All I can do is turn away from the parts I don’t entirely agree with.

“I’ve been given a chance to be as I like, and to do as I like. Consider it being strung along if you wish, but I can’t much justify living a life in the real world anymore now that I’ve had a taste of this place. It’s horrible, yes. I’m aware. But I indulge in it nonetheless. People often indulge in what’s not wholly good or good for them.”

“So even you’re not immune to human error,” you critically note. Gale chuckles and leans over to place their hand over the back of yours on the mattress as you sit there hearing their horrid words. Despite this, the gentle warmth of their flesh is again welcome on yours.

“No, of course not,” they remark, as if amused by the obviousness of their answer that you neglected. “I’m as remarkably flawed as anyone else. I am willing to admit it. I recognize things of myself that most people take years to notice or admit to. Some people never even do.”

You grimace. “And you’re really okay with those flaws?”

“I am,” says Gale unapologetically. “I merely have to try keeping them in check. But even I’m not perfect. I struggle too. I can understand that much about how you feel—you point out your own flaws, think yourself stupid even. You merely make poor judgements sometimes. It happens.”

“How do you…” You then trail off. Of course you know how. Gale knows everything you’ve said aloud, no doubt.

Gale is quick to avoid the subject upon seeing how uncomfortable you’re growing.

“In any case, we’re dawdling far too much. I’d like to move things along. I’ve answered questions you had, so now I ask you give me something in return.”

Hearing this leaves you a tinge sour. You can only recall the same being expected of Lucius—information at a price. Luckily, Gale only wants information of their own. At least, you hope so.

“Please do tell me more about your confinement here,” they bid you, leaning in slightly as they place their clipboard in their lap. “Anything you can. From the beginning.”

They glance at their wrist and frown. “Well, at least tell me why you came and how, anyway. We’ve already expended a good bit of our time.”

You frown. “Is that my fault?”

Gale drops their wrist and looks up at you. “Of course it isn’t.”

You realize you’re just wasting more time asking questions and making comments. However, the white-haired doctor remains patient with you. After dawdling so much, you decide to give them what they want.

Your eyes flicker to their other hand still atop yours. Your own fingers curl around the sheet of the mattress, and Gale consequently adjusts their palm atop your hand to make up for the light shift. It’s a small touch, but one you can’t take your mind off of. You needed this.

“You know what Yosuke did to me, don’t you?” You ask. Gale nods.

“I wasn’t the one who saw it. I merely heard of it,” they explain. “Not everyone here knows about what he did, but us three and Momma certainly do. In any case, my business is usually with the feeds of patients here. Anything else isn’t usually up to me. In the beginning, I was observing the workers as well, but I’ve found with time that their reactions to this place are always…similar.”

“Similar?”

“Yes. I’ve observed them plenty. The drugs they take always change them in much the same way, so their pattern of behavior is usually the same. It’s predictable. The only difference lies in how they are beforehand. I do still observe them sometimes, but there’s far more variance among other patients, and so I focus on them more. Every one of you responds so differently. It’s fascinating.”

“Is that why you didn’t peel back the curtain sooner when you thought I was a worker?” You question. Gale nods.

“That’s part of it. I was also trusting my superior’s word. But even I knew there was something he was hiding. I merely accepted it.”

They smile to themself. “Only when I realized it was someone I knew did it start to bug me and intrigue me all the same.”

You look away. “This place has been hell,” you say. “But I’ve been trying to keep myself afloat. I came here mainly because of Yosuke, but I guess your boss wasn’t exactly happy that I was a little more open about Jay.”

“You weren’t careful,” Gale comments, frowning. “Or else he was just privy to your attempts to be.”

“He was,” you remark sourly. “I knew the risks myself. I took them anyway. I didn’t just want to forget her. And…watching her die was just…”

“We don’t have to dwell on that part anymore,” Gale assures you calmly. “Nor should you to begin with. All it does is hurt you further.”

After again checking their watch and also slightly turning their head to look at the camera feed of the hall, they again turn to you and slip their fingers between yours. “Perhaps we should stay focused.”

“I spoke with Yosuke one night,” you go on, not wholly disagreeing with this sentiment. You try to put the memory of Jay’s death out of your mind. “And after I went to sleep, I woke up to a few workers entering my room. Lucius was there too. He took me away, and when I came here, your boss explained to me why I was here and what the procedure he expected was.

“He shot a bullet at me. He even had Lucius hit me because I kept asking questions and pissing off your boss. But all I’ve done since coming here is stay behind this curtain. When it’s open, I exist. And when it isn’t, I don’t.”

“How have you bided your time?”

You shut your eyes. “All I can do is think. The more my mind runs, the harder it is to stay positive. I distracted myself with observations and kept trying to think of everyone in the beginning, kept trying to think of anything at all that could keep me sane. But after a while, it just wasn’t enough. I was familiar with everything in the room, every sound both men watching me made. It was easy to predict at some point.

“Worst of all, I stopped being able to remember the feeling of touch from people I cared about. I struggled to remember things that once made me happy. Everything’s gradually become foggy. All I can do is lay there and wait for the next meal or bath or restroom break. It’s all cyclic.”

“Mm, I see,” Gale ponders on this a bit, looking away in thought. “Confinement does take its toll on the body and mind. On the spirit. You must not have assumed it could get much worse than how it was before, I imagine.”

“No,” you admit. “I guess I should have been far more grateful for all the activities we’re allowed.”

You look up then at Gale’s dark face.

“Your boss mentioned you recommended a lot of those changes.”

“Yes, I did,” the icy-eyed doctor acknowledges this. “Back then, patients were all locked in their rooms and only brought out to one of the larger recreational rooms now and then. Their confinement was not unlike your own now. Albeit without the permanent chains, of course. And this was already the case by the time I arrived. I’d only heard stories of the first groups of patients.”

So Gale hasn’t been here from the beginning.

“Why change it?”

“For your own sake,” Gale tells you. “And for the sake of preserving your mental states. You’re no good for observation when you’re unresponsive and dreary. Patients often find a way to die if they really want to, so we lost many quite quickly. I know well what confinement does to people. But giving such people things to do, things to distract themselves from the dreariness of confinement and from the existential dread they would otherwise feel all the time—it spices things up, let’s say. The environment is only a little less unnatural that way. I’ve helped introduce different variables that shape and change how patients react to a given environment and situation. I get to observe you, and my superior gets to keep you alive longer to observe whatever it is he wants to. In my case, I find there’s more variable results in your behavior this way. Otherwise, you’re just like the workers.”

Your eyes widen upon hearing their statement.

This entire time, has Lucius just seen you as something akin to a worker? Quiet, docile, weak? He’s even made a few remarks that shook you as they seemed to liken you to a worker. Considering his affairs with them, you only worry what he sees in you if your state is not unlike that of the workers. Even Gale remarked you looked a bit sickly, and now you wonder if it’s as bad as them. The only difference between you and a worker, then, is that you’re still conscious and able to think. Capable of speech, of some kind of intelligence. You’re still you, but they’re no longer themselves.

Gale tilts their head a bit upon seeing your reaction. “What is it?”

“It’d take too long to explain,” you wearily let on. Gale’s hold on your hand slightly tightens as they squeeze it.

“Then next time,” they suggest. Gale then looks at their watch a moment before opting to rise from their chair. They place their paperwork aside to again pull out a syringe, and you allow them to take your arm.

“Gale?” You call to them in a hushed voice, though turn your head away from the sight of the needle piercing your flesh.

“Yes?”

“What’s going to happen to me after this?”

The doctor remains silent a moment until they’re finished pricking you. After putting the used needle away, they look over at you and frown.

“I’m not sure,” they admit while removing their watch and placing it back in their pocket. “Just be good. Obey him. Be alert. You might return to us unharmed that way.”

“There’s a lot more at stake that you don’t understand,” you mutter.

“Then tell me next time,” is the doctor’s only response.

They put a hand calmly on your shoulder, and one on your back. Gently, they guide you back along the mattress. Once you’re positioned, they sweetly brush some hair out of your face with a few of their fingers, and smile gently.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Only when they leave do you realize this is the first moment in a long time that you have some awareness, some confirmation of time actually moving. Fifteen minutes a day or every few days isn’t much, but at least now you know how long it even is, and that days are indeed passing by one by one. Though, you hope the awareness of this time doesn’t make things worse for you the way it did Cyrus. You’ll try hard not to actively count the days like he had.

No more difference in routine than usual occurs. Lucius returns, you sleep for a short moment, and awake to another unpleasant meal with the man who watches you closely this time while working on his own files. The Overseer even returns again, though says nothing of Gale this time now that you’re awake. Instead, the men end up discussing something having to do with medicine stock, you think. They use abbreviations and terms you don’t know.

The next time Lucius peels back the curtain and attempts to put you “under”, he pauses and looks at you strangely.

You want to ask why, but say nothing and merely look away. The man leans in closer and frowns, but says nothing to you. This, you find, is horrifying. Your heart beats faster the closer he gets, and its pace doesn’t let up even when he pulls away. You aren’t sure what Lucius is doing or why, but if he’s looking for some kind of an answer from you, he doesn’t seem to have gotten it just by looking you over once.

As usual, he gives you your injection, thought he doesn’t linger after it. You presume at this point that he’s only putting you under so that Gale can do their usual observation, and that that’s the only reason he’s not bothering to watch you now. Even so, you remain nervous by the way he’s been reacting to you as of late. It’s too close to Gale’s emergence that he started. Maybe you’re acting strangely, but you haven’t noticed yourself looking at all suspicious. You’ve quite actually just been lying there doing nothing.

When next you meet with Gale, they again sit by you and begin writing another falsified report.

“Shall we continue?” They ask casually. “You said last time there were stakes of some kind?”

Right to the point, you see. But with such limited time, you suppose that makes sense. This time, you’re not sitting up. You merely lay comfortably on your side, facing the computer and Gale. The doctor seems not to mind this, allowing you to be as you prefer.

“I’m not much of a storyteller,” you remark wearily.

“Say it how you like,” Gale gently urges you, their voice low and calm. “I’d like to hear about what happened and how it’s impacted you. I’ll tell you something you want to know in turn if you so prefer. Not anything about the facility, really. More about the things you’ve been exposed to already. No doubt there’s things you’ve learned while confined here.”

“Yes,” you admit. “I guess I’ll take that offer. Information for information is better than a punishment or some twisted game.”

Gale eventually stops writing and looks at you curiously, making a “hm?” noise.

You shift your eyes away and try to start gradually explaining your meaning by sifting through events in order:

“I learned early on in my confinement that I could get pregnant,” you finally tell the doctor. It feels strange uttering these words aloud after so long of being quiet about it all. The only things that had come out of your mouth as of late were mere comments.

You look up at Gale expecting a reaction, but they merely watch and wait for you to finish speaking. So, you go on.

“I started bleeding, so they sent me to Monica. She made sure that it wasn’t a botched pregnancy, I guess. I turned out to be fine, but she really freaked me out talking about me being fertile.”

“Monica?” Gale ponders this. “She’s been busier as of late. I haven’t wholly been around to see her, but I’ve noticed she’s been missing from the office here and there. Has she been continually seeing you?”

“No,” you answer openly. “Just twice. I think her first time seeing me was the first time she actually did some kind of work beyond the office.”

“I wager she’s just been seeing other patients then. I guess they’re finally getting some use out of her as a doctor, and not just as some secretary. Momma’s only there because of how she started acting. I have no idea why they had Monica placed there too, other than just to bother Momma.”

They look up at you then.

“How was she? How was it dealing with her and with the initial shock?”

They’re not even at all bothered by the fact that you’re fertile, you notice. Admittedly, you are a little less frightened of them knowing they can’t get you pregnant. You won’t say that it makes you trust them, but it’d be easier to lean on them as a doctor without fear. The forced sex with any of the nonmale doctors will undoubtedly be uncomfortable, but not dangerous. Unfortunately, of the ten doctors who might see you, seven could still impregnate you.

And Yosuke? God, he’d probably lock you up and try to get you pregnant himself just for the chance to say he owns you. He very well could, and it scares you to think it. But you aren’t sure what kind of permissions and freedom he’ll have with you when and if you do come back. If he loses certain privileges with you, you’re afraid of what might happen. Will you wind up seeing Milos again? Will Micah’s abuse of you be even harsher?

You refuse to linger on the thought.

In any case, it’s odd to think that Yosuke had threatened you with confinement back before you left, now that you are where you are. Of course you’d prefer not to stay under his watchful eye, imprisoned in your room. But you’ll find it laughable if he tries to use that against you after the hell you’ve endured in The Overseer’s domain. By comparison, it’s nothing at all.

Shaking away the thoughts of your doctor, you tell yourself you’d be offended by Gale’s lack of reaction to the news of your impregnable state, but you’re reminded that they’ve been here long enough to be accustomed to the issue. No doubt they’d spoken with or at least had seen Sienna and Jade, among other girls even before them that might have gotten pregnant. If they are even a little surprised by your state, they’re hiding it quite well.

However, their shock at you even being in this room was something they didn’t bother to hide. Why be surprised by that but not by this? Because Gale never thought their boss would do this to a Number? They must be so disillusioned not to think The Overseer willing to carry out something like this.

Now you’re even more uncertain whether you’re being played. Are you reading too much into it? You certainly hope so.

“I can’t say much about the shock,” you tell Gale. “I froze, I overthought, I panicked. It took me a lot of time to accept my state, but even now I’m still shaken by it because of what it means for me. I could lose my memory, I could die. As for Monica, I didn’t trust her. I still really don’t. I learned my lesson with the other doctors, so when she came, I refused to trust her. I’m sure you knew that.”

“I did.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I’m still wary of her, as I am of you and everyone else. Though, I appreciate that she showed me kindness while tending to me as a patient, where others might not have. Anyway, I ended up having to see her again , and only then did things change. Just a little, though.”

“Oh? Why did you see her again?”

You scowl. “Because of Lucius.”

Gale frowns. “You know his name, then. Lucius has always been a bit strange. Whereas our boss is more on the reserved side, even he can be a little wild at times.”

“I’m aware,” you mutter bitterly. Gale raises a curious brow to your reaction.

“Has he been up to no good with you too?” They question. “He never touches the Numbers. He’s never around them, really. I’d imagine it’s piqued his interest to have one suddenly within his reach. Accessible.”

“So even you know he’s like that?” You ball your fists. “A monster? He doesn’t just kill and kidnap people without a second thought. He rapes the workers too. He smiles while he does it. All of it.”

“Did he say that?” Gale seems surprised, though they’re unusually casual in responding to your words. “Or did you…see it?”

“He hinted at it,” you respond. Despite your anger, you start to shiver. “He told me about the workers. Showed me one without his uniform. He…”

You struggle to really say it, but Gale doesn’t push you. They merely look down when they gather what you mean.

“I knew a worker died recently,” they say. “Two, in fact. I wasn’t aware under what circumstances the second had other than that he was shot in the head.”

You tightly shut your eyes, and exhale loudly and fiercely through your nose upon hearing this. Gale goes silent a moment, but you again feel their touch upon your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” they apologize gently. “Let’s not dwell on that either, then. Not if you’re not ready. Tell me about Monica instead.”

“I had to see her again after that,” you force yourself to go on. “I started to understand more about her, and about the fact that she’s not as important here as someone like you or Lucius is. Even Lilah and Mom are more important.”

You frown.

“I also learned about Red Valentine, about the workers, about everything. Even Jade and her doctor, and what happened to them both.”

You again open your eyes and see Gale’s profile slightly softened. Their expression is subtle, but it looks a bit morose. Even so, they don’t maintain it for long before they again return to a neutral expression.

“I see. So you’re afraid the same will happen to you?”

“Of course I am!” You shoot out. However, Gale immediately drops their hand from your cheek, gently placing their fingertips over your lips. The hush you quietly, reminding you without words not to yell. You oblige and lower your voice.

“I’m terrified,” you tell them, your voice shaking. “I don’t know what will happen to me. I’m afraid of the concept of pregnancy, of what getting pregnant even means here. I could die. I could be taken away from everyone I love because of it. Not only that, but if Yosuke finds out, which he will eventually, he’s going to get even more possessive of me, He’s going to get worse, I know it.”

Gale’s hand then silently reaches to one of yours, wrapping around it gently. You squeeze it back.

“I’m not even sure if I’m getting out of this room alive,” you say. “Or with all my memory intact. Your boss said his intention was to erase it, and that’ll mean I won’t remember anyone I’ve come to love. Even if I come back, not having my memory will only mean I have to learn to suffer again.”

“He really intends to?” Gale ponders this. “Or did he merely threaten you with it?”

“Both,” you say, grimacing. “He’s made up his mind, so he says. But he also told me if I’m obedient enough, he might reconsider.”

“And have you been?”

“I don’t know. I talked a lot in the beginning, but even he’s been slowly giving me ‘praise’ when I do what he wants. But if—no, when he catches us, he’ll undoubtedly affirm his initial decision. He may forgive you, but he won’t forgive me. Even just being here and listening to you is enough. He won’t accept it.”

“It’s a toss-up, it seems,” Gale sighs. “I would love to say he might be lenient, but I know that he tends not to be with prisoners unless he’s given a reason.”

You squeeze Gale’s hand back. “Then what can I do?”

“Hm?” The doctor seems unsure of what you mean. You merely shift your eyes up at them, your face begging and pleading.

“Gale, I don’t trust you,” you tell them firmly. However, your voice softens promptly after. “But I need you. I need advice. I need help.”

“You’re asking me for help?” The icy-eyed doctor looks genuinely surprised, but does not refute you when you nod.

“I don’t want to sink any lower than I have,” you tell them desperately. “I don’t know what to do. Every passing day takes more of a toll on me. I just want to get through this. I have nobody.”

“You have yourself,” Gale remarks gently, so as not to make it sound like a harsh criticism. “Relying on others isn’t a crutch unless it’s a dependency, and you have always been dependent on your companions to a fault. Even now, you’re dependent on me. It’s the only reason you’re bothering to reach out when you know in your heart you can’t stand me because of my role here. It’s fine to draw from those you love and take their words to heart. But it’s equally as important to learn independence as well.”

They smile.

“I’ve seen you fight for yourself many times, Ten. I know you have it in you. Often, when we’re pushed far enough, we find the strength to push back. I think such a statement applies to you too. You just don’t know it yet.”

“I can’t push back against this,” you refuse them. “I’m in no position.”

“Not against the doctors, no,” Gale responds with a light shake of their head. “Though I’ve heard you’ve been mouthy before with much harsher people like Micah. Evidently the will is there. But what I mean is that you need to find something to help you cope. To help you push through.”

Your eyes slightly widen when you hear these words.

Gale softly laughs. “I know, it’s something One would say.”

“Cyrus…” you wearily correct them. “His name is Cyrus.”

“Do you know that certainly?”

“Lucius told me the truth,” you affirm. “You people gave him his name. Why?”

Gale frowns. “I don’t know. I know a lot of things, but my boss and Lucius keep certain details about what they do and why primarily between them since they’re the ones that helm this entire operation. Their tendency toward secrecy expanded as time went on and largescale collaboration was no longer necessary. It’s at a point that even Yosuke knows very little himself, since he’s the newest of us all.”

“Monica’s newer, isn’t she?”

“Mm, her as well,” Gale nods. “So far as I know, both men have a tight-knit circle, but even members of it don’t know everything either. My role lends me to some level of importance, but I was essentially only brought here for patient assessment or evaluation. I have no place in their grander schemes.”

“Does that not offend you?”

“Not in the least,” Gale says calmly still smiling. They remove their hand from yours and instead place it on your cheek again. “I offend over more personal things, Ten. Not professional. I’ve told you I’m grateful to my superior for the opportunity he’s given me. So, I have no reason to be angry over exclusion. My role is my role, and my interests are indulged consequently. Being here can be difficult, but is ultimately rewarding.”

You shift your eyes away. “You don’t know their relationship either, then?”

“No,” the doctor responds. “But I have my own ideas that I keep to myself. Of all the things my boss takes seriously, that is most definitely one of them. He doesn’t like talking about it except to remark that Lucius is important to him. He expects all of us to respect the man, and so we do. Though he’s always been more casual than our superior.”

“Your boss called Lucius his ‘brother’,” you note. “I assumed he either loved him, or that they’ve been close for a long, long time. Maybe even since childhood.”

“He does indeed cherish the man,” Gale chuckles. “In what way, even I don’t know. I can’t imagine their relationship is anything like Nathaniel’s and Jonathan’s.”

“No. Your boss doesn’t seem like the loving type.”

“No, I suppose not,” the doctor does not disagree.

Gale then glances down at their watch and frowns. “We should break off for today.”

You reach to grab their other wrist then, much to their surprise. The chains attached to your shackles clink together, resounding a metallic rustling noise that sounds throughout the room.

“Wait, I wanted to ask about Cyrus!” you tell them. “And about everyone else.”

Gale does not have to pry themself away from you. They merely pull back slowly, and your hand wearily falls away.

“I’ll answer what I can, but next time,” they promise, again glancing down at their watch. They then start to remove and pocket it like last time, before taking out another mild dose of the anesthetic. “We’re cutting it close today.”

Gale departs after giving you another injection, and again you rest a short while. You awake to another long spell of droll chatter between your sinister guardians. You trail The Overseer’s shadow as it shifts between the console and his desk.

You continue to think about how the man has a hold on most everyone here. Mom does go against him, yet will begrudgingly listen when he uses her real name like a tight leash. Lilah desperately wants to be included in his affairs, as she once more closely was. Monica merely wants to earn his respect when it appears he has little for her. Gale wants the same, though purely out of their admiration for the man and his dedication to his work.

The others, you aren’t sure. Yosuke always seemed to be respectful of his boss’ wishes, until you got involved. Micah, Sven, and Jude remain uncertain, though you suspect they might be more casual about this place than others. Nathaniel and Jonathan might be the same. You know they at least respect the boss enough not to be outwardly disruptive. Their moments of rule breaking have always been minimal and quiet.

It seems The Overseer controls the women most of all. Perhaps even damages them himself. Is that what he meant by “if she survives” when referencing Monica?

As for Gale, they may not be a woman, but they’re certainly effeminate sometimes. Even so, you can’t help but wonder if the little respect they are shown comes because they present more often as male. They’d said their boss respects their work, sure. But you can’t imagine that isn’t part of it. Men most of all appear to have the upper hand in this place. How horrible that this even applies to the doctors.

The next time your curtain is harshly peeled back, you do well to avoid Lucius’ gaze. You instead note The Overseer standing by his computer this time, patiently observing different sections of the hall to his room on several monitors while having another smoke. You know why.

Lucius, however, watches you quietly and calmly await your dose of “anesthetic”. His face scrunches up in a light scowl, and again you aren’t sure why. The gesture unsettles you nonetheless. What makes it worse is that he grabs your chin and forces you to face him.

“You’ve stopped begging,” he finally notes, soured by the lack. Only then do you realize you’ve seemed suspicious. Last time the man’s examination of your face only confused you. But since you’ve been doing a tinge better with Gale around to distract from your misery, you stupidly failed to consider the need to keep up the desperate visage. Lucius seems fascinated, or at least amused by your weakness, by your fear. You should have known better. You should have…

“Has even that started to disappoint you?” The man questions curiously.

Your heart skips a beat. Can this be salvaged? Is he assuming that you’re acting strangely because you’re so defeated? God, you don’t know what to think.

Lucius leans in then, still scowling slightly. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath upon you. There’s no reason to believe he can read you like Gale and Yosuke can, but you remain fearful nonetheless.

“Answer me.”

“That’s enough now, Lucius,” The Overseer calls out after exhaling a breath of smoke. “Don’t get distracted.”

Again, the man hovering over you obeys his superior and pulls away. “Yes sir.”

You breathe a sigh of relief after your injection, and after the curtain is again shut. Lucius does eye you one last time before he hides you away. For now, you think you’re safe.

Gale’s meeting with you helps quell this unease a bit. They sit by you like last time, and scribble false notes down as expected.

“What If something happens with the others and you miss it?” You ask. Gale shrugs.

“So be it,” they casually remark. “I can always go back and replay what I miss around the recreational areas. But my meetings with you, I can’t. They’re special.”

You’re unsure if this is a confirmation of there not being cameras in the room.

Gale smiles at you. “Now, I’ve had my turn. Do ask what you wanted to last time. About the others.”

You sit up and lean forward, hunching over while holding yourself. Even now, you’re still a bit uncomfortable being wholly naked, but Gale’s done well not to draw attention to it. You’re surprised they haven’t much bothered to comment on anything sexual, really. They haven’t even once used their pet name for you. It’s much appreciated. Even if they’re only being kind to gain your trust and get you to open up to them, you’re grateful for any ounce of respect.

“I wanted to know how everyone’s been,” you start. “All my friends, and…”

“Cyrus especially?” Gale supposes, looking up from their paper. “Or perhaps you mean Yosuke? Or even Nine?”

“…Any of them,” you admit, blushing. Gale merely gives a soft laugh and puts their clipboard back in their lap once they’re done scribbling down something feasible.

“Your friends are as they ever were, Ten,” they say. “A lot’s changed, but things are mostly the same. Everyone’s all intact, at least.”

You look down, your brows upturned. “Do they miss me?”

“Yes. Very much. They’ll be happy to have you back if you return.”

Gale must know about everything between you, Lav, and Cyrus. Everything you’ve said and done. So, they know just what it is you really want to know, but you can’t bring yourself to ask outright. It feels too personal.

“I can’t be specific,” Gale says. “It’s best I not be. I’d imagine my superior doesn’t want you knowing too much about them if his aim was to make you miserable, so I will respect his intentions. But know the Numbers have spoken of you.”

They pause a moment to watch your hesitant expression, but do eventually continue.

“Cyrus and Nine most of all. But that’s all I’ll tell.”

“Will you tell me their names?” You question eagerly. “Do you even know them?”

“What a sudden inquiry,” Gale remarks with surprise. “Why make it?”

“I want something of theirs to hold onto while I’m here. It’d make me feel better.”

“Well, I know how special they are to you, but no, I won’t say,” Gale refuses. “I’d rather not risk you slipping it to them, should you return.”

Your expression sullens.

“As for your doctor, I said I haven’t seen him,” Gale goes on, changing the subject when they catch sight of your expression. “But from the gossip I’ve heard around the halls and the office, he’s not doing too well. He misses you just as your friends do.”

“For a different reason, no doubt,” you mutter. Gale chuckles.

“It seems that way. He’s always been partial to you.”

You ball your fists.

“I’m just a toy to him. Your superior took away my doctor’s plaything, and Yosuke only wants it back. He doesn’t genuinely care about me. He just wants to use me.”

“Hmm,” Gale hums thoughtfully, watching you closely. “Ten, I do believe he does love you. If…in his own unusual way. He seems to think he needs you. He is possessive, certainly. Obsessive as well. But I can see in the way he talks of you that you mean something to him.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“You may feel of it as you like,” says the doctor by your bedside. “I’m just the observer. But that observation changes little of your position here.”

You unclench your fists and lower your arms to your lap instead.

“How am I supposed to deal with that?” You ask. “You say I have fight in me, and the capacity to be willful, but I feel like I’ve lost that ability. How do I regain that strength I lost?”

“You’ve already started to,” Gale notes curiously. “Don’t you realize?”

You suppose you have been speaking a little more openly. Even so, you still think you’re not yourself.

“But if I’m so dependent, won’t I just crumble when you’re forced to leave?” You ask. Gale exhales heavily through their nose while they ponder this.

“Yes,” they admit to you without hesitation. “You often do. No doubt you crumbled when you were separated from your friends, and after leaving Monica to return here.”

“And what can I do when I feel so afraid? So miserable? How do I maintain independence?”

“You have to learn not to seek out others first when you start to feel the way you have,” Gale tells you. “Independence means just that. You find your own solutions, with others close to you merely being supplementary. They are not end-alls. They’re just support.

“In the moment of fear, you have to accept it. You have to let it ride its course before you can build toward repairing yourself. When you feel negatively, you often aren’t able to make rational decisions. But it’s okay to feel what you do. Part of the human experience is undergoing such strong negative emotions. Sometimes you need to cry or scream or let out your frustrations. But you have to be clear with yourself about what you’re feeling and acknowledge those feelings.

“When you face something difficult that invokes those shaking physiological and emotional responses, it’s best you take deep breaths and focus on maintaining a steady rhythm. Concentrate on it. And if that doesn’t work, observing something of your surroundings and focusing on it can be of benefit. Anything to lessen the initial blow of whatever negative emotion you’re facing so that its impact doesn’t immediately break you. I’m sure you’ve done a few of these things before.”

“I have,” you confirm. “Some of the Numbers have given me similar advice. When I met Lucius for the first time, I focused on his earring. And the first time I met Milos, I tried to take my mind off the pain he inflicted. But both times, I struggled to keep my attention away from the thing I was trying to avoid.”

Gale shakes their head.

“That’s the thing: You can’t truly hide away from the pain of existence. Physical pain, emotional pain, pain of the soul. Brushing things aside, or attempting to avoid them is acceptable in certain instances, but it is never a good idea to completely ignore the things that need to be addressed and worked through. All it does is make such negative things fester in you. Consider the times you refused to speak up with your friends, and only led yourself to feel worse than you already did.”

You don’t bother responding to this. Being reminded isn’t exactly fun, even if you’ve learned since your earlier days here not to be so closed off with your companions about issues you do need support on, or issues that you need to work out with them.

“In any case,” Gale goes on. “Before you can sort these problems out, you have to be in a sounder mind. And in order to even attempt getting there, you have to first go through the ordeal, then work toward accepting the reality of your situation and your struggle. Depending on the particular issue, your next step is to focus on eliminating what ails you, so to speak. If it’s something situational and thus out of your hands, then you can only remind yourself that you’re not at fault. If it is internal, you have to analyze your feelings and your perceptions, and ask yourself a multitude of questions about why you’re seeing things the way you do and how to alleviate that if it’s negatively impacting others.”

You open your mouth to say something in protest, but Gale raises a hand gently to let you know to hold off on doing so.

“It’s difficult, of course,” they affirm before you can say it yourself. “It requires finding the right balance of acceptance and denial. Knowing when to face your fears and when it’s acceptable to put things aside for later. When it’s something that’s’ happening suddenly, all you can do is ride things out. After that is when you assess what’s happened and try to come to terms with it. Only once you do can you work toward overcoming it. Make sense?”

“But I feel like even when I try that, the next awful thing that comes causes my progress to regress,” you point out with a frown when Gale lets you say your piece. “What do I do then?”

“It’s a long process, Ten, and some are better at going through it than others. People sometimes get stuck on one step or the other. It’s alright if you struggle with this. The point is that you work toward achieving it. Coping methods are useful in dealing with your problems and preventing the emergence of negative feelings toward old problems. They can be supplemental, give you a sense of individuality. But take them the wrong way, or indulge in them too much, and they progressively become hindrances. Crutches.

“As an example, consider Seven or Three at their worst. They cling to things to avoid reality. There are certainly times where they do quite well at accepting this or that, but they still struggle greatly when they’re faced with something that they don’t want to accept, whereas others have managed to take it in much more easily either as a result of their own work, or their own level of individual emotional strength.”

You glance over at Gale. “Do you think ill of them for being that way?”

“Of course not,” they answer you gently. “You all are as you are. Each one of you is unique with your own unique perspectives and problems. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying watching you all.”

“Are you really so selfish, Gale?” You critically question them. “Are we just test subjects to you? Or do you genuinely care about us?”

The white-haired doctor looks down a bit as they ponder on how best to answer you. Eventually, they let but one word slip:

“Both.”

They reach out then and attempt to comfort your frustrated state with their touch. Despite your upset, you allow them to do so, if while turning away when they do.

Gale’s hand gently pets your head, stroking the top of it slowly.

“Ten, I do worry about you all,” they promise you. “But I want what I want all the same. Even so, I do get attached to my patients at times. You might not believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“What, are you going to say you love us?” You mutter. Gale smiles.

“I do,” they gently murmur, sliding their hand from atop your head down to your cheek again. “Perhaps in an odd way, like Yosuke. But I do nonetheless. My admiration of you all comes from my intrigue, whereas for others like my superior, my admiration comes from respect and thankfulness. As I said, you’re all so very unique. Fascinating. The way you talk, the way you think, the way you interact. I adore it.”

“So why hurt us then?” You question, again glancing the doctor’s way. “If you love us so much, why do you let us suffer? Your moral values and your words are too conflicting.”

“It is possible to love and hurt someone at the same time,” Gale says simply. “Relationships of all kinds are complicated, you see. I can do nothing for you. I’m in no position. All I can do is observe and look the other way to things I dislike, while still acknowledging that I’m a part of it all the same. Other doctors like me feel the same way, and I’m sure they’ve expressed similar sentiments as well.”

“Yes, but If that’s the case, why help me at all?” You demand. “Why offer me that advice and try to coddle me when you’ve let others slip through the cracks before? Did you even try to save Jade? Sienna? Amber? Your own previous goddamn number?!”

Gale’s expression does not change. They merely drop their hand and return it to their lap.

“I am terrible, I suppose,” they don’t fight you. Whereas Monica fought hard to earn your respect, Gale seems unbothered by your perception. “I did indeed let them fall. I had the opportunity to try saving them and let them drown anyway, just to document their struggle. I suppose I couldn’t much resist the temptation of knowing what would happen and how they’d react. But it wasn’t exactly painless to do so.”

“Don’t give me that,” you scorn them, muttering under your breath. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be loving and horrible simultaneously. You’re just like Yosuke, trying to be that way.”

“Humans are complex, Ten,” Gale reminds you. Again, they take no offense to your comment. “They’re not always cut and dry. We all have a mixture of positives and negatives. I suppose I can’t explain it to you. It’s something you just have to come to understand of others. You’re still so young.”

You part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out yet. All you can do is look upon Gale a moment. Their statement is bewildering given how young they look themself.

“…So are you,” you finally say. Gale’s smile does not falter.

“I’m still older than you,” they say in as-a-matter-of-fact manner, then glance down at their watch again.

“Ten, I know it’s an inopportune moment to cut things off given the tenseness of the conversation, but we have to. If you’re offended, I have no qualms not talking to you again. If that’s what you prefer. Neither of us will be walking away from this empty-handed.”

You pause a moment to think on this while Gale makes their usual preparations to leave. You allow them to have your arm and think a moment while they inject you with the small dose of anesthetic.

You expected the conversation to eventually sour. But…

“No,” you refuse them. “I don’t like the way this is going, but I’d rather talk to you than continue to lay here in silence. But don’t get so used to me being like this, so reliant on you. Whenever my strength returns, I will continue to fight all of you to the best of my ability.”

Gale’s smile brightens.

“There she is,” they remark happily as they withdraw the needle. “I’m glad.”

You look away.

“…Thank you for the advice. I’ll try to keep it in mind. That’s as positively as I’ll speak toward you, because everything else about you is despicable. But you haven’t answered my question—why have you bothered giving me advice at all when you’ve let countless others fall?”

“Curiosity,” the white-haired doctor admits, though you partly expected this answer. “You’ve shown a remarkable stubbornness that previous Numbers before you have also shown. I want to see where it goes this time.”

“…This time?”

Gale shakes their head and refuses to elaborate.

“Until next time,” they tell you gently, dismissing the question entirely. Again, you are left behind the curtain veil.

Left to lay there until you sleep again, you start to think about how you’ve been handling most things so far. If anything, you tend to push out bad memories in lieu of better ones. Is that really such a bad thing? Gale suggested moderation was important, but…

They don’t know the sorts of awful things you go through. They don’t know how frustrating it is. Yes, there have always been moments where you’ve been able to fight back, but you always return to your fearful state one way or another. Though, thinking on it, you suppose pushing things aside, even a little, has contributed to that.

Their advice does have merit. It’s just hard to implement what they’ve suggested. Your friends have all said similar things, and even then it’s always been hard to follow their advice fully. Perhaps you just need to find something of your own that you like to do. Something to distract you. Music and reading are out of the question, and you’re definitely not the sporty type. Crafts and acting were never your forte either.

Your mind shifts back to Gale when you struggle to think of something you like. You wonder whether Cyrus was impacted by Gale’s words himself when he talked to them all those times after witnessing death. In fact, why did Gale save him too? Why does so much surround him? Perhaps you’ll ask next time. You’d wanted to discuss him before, but the subject never really came up. Gale still doesn’t even know that you know about the interviews they did.

Going back to the thought of Cyrus, you figure that If the intention of the higher-ups is to observe prisoners and see how they’re faring after their memories are wiped, then your only guess is that he’s been here so long that he pokes at the doctors’ intrigue as well. Gale can’t be the only one who has such an unquenchable curiosity. If The Overseer is supposedly so similar to them, then perhaps even he has the same wants, only he carries them out differently. In fact, everyone here is a doctor or at least very attuned to medical science to some degree, right? They must all be so curious. But people who aren’t so close to The Overseer and Lucius evidently have limitations on what they can know and do.

You can’t much keep your thoughts up as sleep slowly takes hold of you. When you next wake, you’re alone with Lucius again, and the curtain is open. The man watching you is sitting quietly at the desk and leaning back in his chair while holding a few papers. You think he’s examining them.

You’re in no rush to move about, so you merely lie there and watch him. However, he’s able to tell you’re awake, because he promptly speaks up.

“Enjoy your rest?” He questions. You say nothing, but feel your heart beat a bit faster. He’s never asked anything like this before. Coupled with his reaction to you earlier, you’re left nervous.

When you don’t answer, the man picks his head up and turns it toward you. He frowns and drops the papers on the desk.

“You won’t even talk with me now?” He scoffs. “You’ve changed. I suppose for the better, though. My superior seems to be enjoying your fearful quiet. Do you respect him? Or are you just afraid of death?”

Finally, you answer.

“You can guess which.”

Lucius smirks. “You admit I had a point, then?”

“About what?”

“Obedience and fear. You’ve finally learned that lesson. I suppose the appropriate praise in this case would be ‘good girl’.”

Your hand grips the sheet of the mattress tightly as your offense grows. Nonetheless, you say nothing. No comments, no backtalk. You wish desperately for Lucius to just let you be. But right now, he insists on pecking. And it’s because of that pecking that you’re also worried: You don’t know what he’s doing or why. Only when the man rises from his chair do you suddenly let go of the sheet.

Your eyes remain locked onto Lucius’ pale face as he approaches your bedside, hand causally in his pocket. He watches you a moment, still with his usual cold smile plastered on his face.

Slowly, he pulls out a device similar to the one you saw when you last had a visit with Nathaniel. You suppose now it’s a phone. The sight of it only makes your heart jump.

Lucius fiddles slightly with the thing, his dark eyes now focused on its flat surface as he does. In moments, you hear something emitting from the device. To your horror, it’s Gale’s voice, and yours. He’s recorded your previous conversation with the doctor, and being aware of that now, your heart sinks.

“Silly me,” Lucius laughs to himself. “It seems I forgot my phone in the room last I left. Gale would have seen it under the computer if they sat at their place like usual. But evidently, they didn’t.”

His dark eyes flicker up toward you, the light of his phone slightly illuminating the underside of his face.

“They were so eager to get to you that they didn’t even notice.”

You sit up promptly, but struggle to think of what to say to the man in your defense. All you do is watch as he stops the audio and puts his phone back in his pocket. Though, this time, he strangely places it in his back pocket.

“I expect you both knew this would happen.” He supposes. You shiver, but try to take deep breaths and stay focused. In your struggle to speak, you only nod. You won’t deny he’s right about that much.

“Mm. It’s not impossible, but certainly hard to hide things when we’re here so often,” Lucius remarks. “It was amusing that Gale tried, though. But my boss doesn’t exactly like ‘amusing’.”

You’d ask how Lucius figure it out, but you assume it was your fault. You figured as much when he hovered over your face when administering the placebo.

“It’s over then?” you question shakily.

“Unless there’s a reason you can give me not to turn this over to him immediately, yes,” says the man by you.

“I have nothing I can give you,” you tell him honestly. “If it’s my body you want then I won’t give it to you.”

Lucius frowns. “That’s hardly up to you, girl. But who said I wanted it to begin with? I could easily indulge my urges with workers if I so like.”

You look down and hold your arms.

“…Will Gale get hurt? Will I?”

“Yes,” Lucius does not bother dancing around it, nor does he attempt to play coy. “Whether this will get you killed I can’t say. It’s up to him and how he chooses to react. He seemed pleased that you were quiet after being so rude to him initially. I’m sure the sudden backtracking of your good behavior will result in him growing rather angry. Even if it isn’t wholly your fault, you went along with this willingly.”

You exhale a heavy, shaking breath in response to these words, and your grip on your arms tightens.

“Then at least let me finish. Please.”

“Finish?”

You refuse to look back up. Your head remains hanging as you try to force your request out again.

“Let me finish talking to Gale.”

Suddenly, Lucius grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him. His face remains neutral.

“Beg more,” he commands. “As if your life will end right now if you don’t. It very well could.”

Your eyes widen, though you try to do as told.

“…P-please, Lucius,” you beg, your eyes growing wet. You don’t cry, but feel your cheeks reddening and your throat lumping up as though you will. The man may misinterpret this as an ingenuine gesture because you aren’t outright crying, but the heaviness in your heart and the subsequent near-tearful reaction is genuine. You don’t want to die. You don’t…

“Please let me talk to Gale longer. If your boss might kill me, at least grant me that much.”

Lucius watches your face a moment, smirking as he’s no doubt enraptured by the return of your fearful state.

“Good,” he praises you. “I’ll let you have your way, princess, but you must do something for me as well. Offer me something. Anything you can think of.”

Your hands shake as you contemplate what he’s getting at. You aren’t sure if he intends to use you. The Overseer may not have had any interest in your body, but both Lucius’ entertainment at your misery and the fact that he still sexually abuses the workers only leaves you panicked at what he might try. He said he had no interest in your own body since he had the workers were at his disposal, but you can’t know for sure.

As he patiently awaits your answer, you continue to tremble and try sucking in deep breaths to avoid crying and panicking further.

“If it’s sex you want, my mouth is all I’ll give,” you finally opt to say. “Or my hands. Unless you intend to bring in another worker.”

“No,” the man rejects sourly this idea. “It’d raise too much suspicion right now. As for your hands, they would require more movement. I won’t unchain you just for a cheap thrill.”

He smiles. “Your mouth will suffice, if that’s what you really want to give me.”

“I don’t know what else you want from me,” you remark. “I don’t know what’s valuable to you.”

Lucius subtly chuckles, though ignores your last comment. “Well, I might as well indulge in some use of you. You’re good for nothing else anyway.”

He squeezes each side of your chin toughly and shakes your head a bit from side to side.

“Right?”

You avert your eyes from the man, but give in and indulge his coyness, unable to think of what else you could possibly do.

“Yes,” you obediently answer him with a shaking breath, despite the blow to your pride doing so deals you. But for now, you’ll accept the degradation, so long as it’s only upon your mouth. You know you’ll be used again eventually, but you want to try avoiding it as much you can.

“Attempt to please me, then,” Lucius answers amusedly. “If I enjoy it, I’ll let you keep chatting with Gale. Not for very much longer, mind you. I’ll merely prolong the inevitable for you just a few more times.”

“Will you keep making me do this? And listening in on us?” You question.

Again, he’s blunt with you. “Of course. I enjoy watching you squirm. I only won’t if my superior is around and I’m unable to. But like I said, I don’t intend to let your little discussion go on indefinitely. I’m merely curious to know just what Gale will tell you. But I suppose I’ll be kind and not disclose the specifics to my superior. Not as a favor to you, but to save him the extra headache. I wager he’ll want to know anyway, but I’ll let him take care of that. In any case, all this depends on you.

“Now, the workers never usually do well with this sort of thing since they’re so drugged up and exited that they pay little attention to technique. All they care about is being used, or using, so they’re quite sloppy. But you? You’re capable, and you’re practiced with this, no doubt. So do a good job.”

You grimace at these casual remarks of abuse. You don’t want to hear it. If for any reason you manage to evade death for your transgression, there’s still a risk of you becoming a worker, for a multitude of reasons. Should that happen, then Lucius will…

“Turn as best you can to face me,” the man commands you. He does not bother to move from his spot. “You lead. I don’t intend to do the work.”

He finally releases your chin and stands firm, awaiting your compliance. It’s been far too long since you’ve done this, you think. In your panic, you almost forget just how to start. But you can’t afford to just sit there or fumble around.

The fear of death now looms over your head far more strongly now. You can’t focus, but you keep reminding yourself, screaming at yourself, to try obeying. Your hands continue to shake, but you push your body about until you’re sitting on your knees, facing the man. The chain of your right arm is at its limit in this position, but you’re just barely able to put your hand on Lucius’ right hip to steady yourself.

Your face remains close to his crotch, much to your displeasure. Nonetheless, you lift your freest hand up and start to undo the button and pull down the zipper on his pants. You don’t really notice at first that you’ve opened it up because there’s more black underneath, but you realize quickly that it’s just his underwear. It’s a little tighter than the usual boxers, more fit. But it’s not unlike many you’ve seen.

Lucius’ dark eyes don’t once leave you. He watches you carefully and intently all the while you move to expose him. His face remains expressionless, and his hands stay by his side. He gives no guidance, no indication of what he wants. You’re just expected to know.

Still with shaking hands, you try to move the man’s underwear a side enough to bring out his phallus. When you do, you feel the thing smoothly in your hands. Staring at it only makes you ill, as you’re reminded of all the times you’ve been force-fed cock by several of the men here.

You try not to dawdle, but wind up having to toy with the thing to get it hard. Lucius isn’t quite erect, but he isn’t wholly limp. Your breath is shallow and shakes with every inhalation, but you try to be careful with the man’s cock as you sweetly kiss and lick the tip and underside. It’s a clean thing, well kempt and warm to the touch despite the colder touch of the man’s hands that you’ve gotten accustomed to.

It’s hard to gauge whether Lucius is enjoying your touch in the least based on his face alone. Though, you refuse to really look at it. The only indication you get is that his cock slowly rises to its fullest erect state the longer you touch and lap at it. But, unlike most of the other men, he makes no noise and merely stands watch.

It’s unsettling.

It’s not clear if he’s resisting you, or if you don’t amuse him. You’d believe either, even with the physiological response he’s given to the sensation of your wet tongue and lips upon him.

Your fingers of your more restrained right hand curl and dig into the fabric of Lucius’ pants against his hip. As you begin to lap up his cock and sweetly stimulate it with your lips, tongue, and other fingers, you start to taste his precum. It’s not especially salty like some of the other men’s, but still disgusting to you nonetheless.

With the lubrication this brings, you finally start to take some of his shaft into your mouth, attempting to control your breaths and focus them through your nose instead all the while. You suck and tongue the flesh around his dick, starting to bob your head while gripping the base tenderly and occasionally moving your hand in unison. The slurping noises you make are all that fill the room, as Lucius remains ever quiet as he watches you suck him off. You can’t much focus on what he might be thinking, what face he might be making. Only occasionally does he let out a quiet breath, and this is all you have to show you that he’s enjoying himself. How much, you don’t know.

Your breaths are still shaky even in doing this, and so you periodically let a loud puff of air expel from your nose. It’s difficult for you to concentrate on sucking the man off, yet you try as best you can to. You try to think of every technique you’ve used on the other men, desperate to please Lucius knowing that he could choose to hurt or even kill you if you don’t. Your eyes shut a moment as you try to avoid looking at your task and at the gunman’s crotch. You can’t bear the slimy texture in your mouth, the fleshy, musky flavor against your tongue.

You gasp through your nose when you feel the man’s fingers carefully grip the back of your head and push down hard, forcing you to take the entirety of Lucius’ shaft suddenly into your throat. You start to choke, but the man keeps you firmly in place. You release your hand from his shaft and tightly grab onto his other hip, attempting to get him to let you go so that you can breathe.

He refuses.

Suddenly, his cock starts to twitch in your mouth before immediately expelling a load of warm, thick cum into your throat. With the throbbing thing rammed so deeply into your mouth, you’re forced to instinctively swallow his semen.

Lucius’ breaths deepen and slow greatly as he comes, though he doesn’t much moan or make any other noise. All he does is tightly hold your head, his fingers gripping your hair and scalp even more firmly as he releases his seed into your throat. You give a muffled and gurgling moan and whimper desperately into his crotch, trying to make it known that you can’t breathe. Only after the man finishes inside of you does he finally allow you to pull back.

“Don’t spill a single drop, princess,” the man’s voice calls out lowly. “I’m no maid. I won’t clean up after you.”

You gasp loudly, sucking in heavy breaths of air and attempting to recover from the unwarranted deepthroating. Though you try to catch your breath, you also keep your head tilted up so that none of Lucius’ cum dribbles out of it and onto the bed. Even with how much of it coated your throat, quite a lot of it got all over your mouth as well. By now it’s all mixed with your saliva, a strand of which has trailed from the man’s tip to your lips. Once your breath is gathered, you swallow hard again to get any of the excess semen down, not wanting to make Lucius mad.

He chuckles. “Good. I see I’m missing quite a bit by not being able to have the Numbers like the other doctors do. I suppose I understand why they enjoy it so much. But I also understand why my superior tries to keep me away from it.”

You scowl but shift your eyes away.

“Lick the rest,” you’re commanded. “And thank me for feeding you. Only then will I finalize our agreement and let you see Gale again.”

Despite the anger this brings you, there’s no word of protest from your lips. You do as told and quietly suck the man’s head clean of the rest of his cum. Once you’re done, Lucius’ cold hand grabs your chin and forces your head up. You look him in the eyes and continue to scowl, but mutter,

“Thank you.”

With a smirk, Lucius drops his hand. “Very good. We’ll keep this up until I decide to confront my boss with the information, or until I tire of your throat. Do avoid telling Gale about this. They might sense something’s wrong by gauging your sudden shift in behavior, but let’s not make them privy to it so suddenly. After all, telling people they’re being observed often affects their natural responses.”

You again go quiet, ignoring his casual repeating of Gale’s earlier sentiment. You only give an understanding nod. Lucius zips himself back up and casually returns to his work as if nothing’s happened. You return to a laying position on the bed meanwhile, desperately wiping at your mouth to get the taste of semen out of it.

Though you’re left alone, Lucius does not draw the curtain and leaves you exposed. Only when another meal is delivered do you bother to sit up again, though you notice Lucius take the tray meant for you back to the desk. He eyes you a moment and smiles.

“You’ve already had plenty,” he tells you. Without a second thought, and without giving you a chance to protest, he begins to eat instead.

In the time between then and your next meeting with Gale, all you can do is try to process what it might be like to die, your hands shaking all the while.

Your stomach growls relentlessly, though you know you won’t be fed again for a while. Despite not having felt hungry during your confinement, it’s only after you’re starved on purpose that you again realize what hunger is actually like.

You then start to wonder whether food really matters now if you’re likely going to die. Despite the fear, you desperately hope that The Overseer might spare you. As sick as it sounds, you’d rather be beaten. As you’ve said many times before, you can handle the pain when push comes to shove. It’ll frighten you in the moment, leave you feeling broken, but you’d rather still have a chance to recover than none at all. If you just follow everyone’s advice about dealing with such pain, maybe you’ll be okay.

When it’s time for Gale to come, you’re strangely still given the placebo..This strikes you as odd, since you thought Lucius would have known that the bottle of anesthetic has been switched out by now. Granted, you’re so tired from the hunger you’d be willing to just pass out right there.

You’re again spared from his watchful eye when his boss enters the room again, asking Lucius to help him with something after asking whether you’ve been dosed. Lucius merely shuts your curtain then, though flashes you a knowing smile and quietly puts a finger to his lips before he leaves you be.

Gale eventually does return and again sit by your bedside. You attempt not to arouse suspicion with them, but do flicker your eyes over to the console and try to see if you can spot Lucius’ phone. It’s unfortunately hidden among all the other things placed there, but you’re certain it’s there.

“I hope you’re doing a little better this time,” Gale expresses kindly. “You seemed upset last we met. Rest assured, I didn’t mean to strike any nerves.”

“You know why I reacted that way,” you tell them, attempting to carry on the conversation like normal despite still relentlessly fearing the eventual punishment you’ll face for meeting with Gale. Even with the distaste you have for them, you worry what will happen to them. What kind of punishment will they receive?

“I understand,” Gale assures you as they scribble their usual false notes. “I wasn’t trying to look down upon you for it. Anyway, what shall we discuss today, Ten? You choose. More advice? Or something else?”

“I haven’t really had a chance to implement your advice much,” you remark sullenly. “But I might soon. The breathing thing is all I can manage to do right now, though. It’s the easiest thing to do.”

Gale smiles, though their eyes remain fixated on their page. “It’s something to start with. That you’re slowly working your way toward a better state at all when prior you’d been so defeated that you couldn’t even really speak much shows remarkable improvement.”

You raise a brow, then. “I don’t see a difference.”

“I do. I noticed it even before I spoke with you last. But it’s not enough to just be comforted. You have to sustain your strength even after I’ve gone. This safety net will eventually be removed. You have to be ready for it.”

Gale eventually stops their writing and again places their clipboard in their lap. They then frown.

“Even so, I can see there’s still a lot bothering you. You’re a little different than last time,” they remark. You figured they’d notice, as did Lucius. Nonetheless, you obey the man’s word and refuse to tell Gale about his figuring out of your meetings.

“Do tell me why,” Gale urges gently. “Is it more abuse, perhaps?”

“Yes,” you admit, though refrain from giving details or a reason as to the abuse. Gale hums thoughtfully.

“I’ve never known Lucius to be so sexually intrigued,” they say. “I was under the impression our superior expected celibacy of him for reasons of his own. But I imagine, like any of us, Lucius has his own urges. He’s always been the coy type. I wouldn’t say he’s unlike your own doctor at times. It’s unfortunate that his relief comes from where it does. Anyway , I’m sure you don’t want to discuss the man further. Do change the topic to what you like, then. Anything at all.”

Your eyes flicker to the video feed behind Gale. Seeing it only reminds you of one of your barely awakened states. You think one of the times you woke, you’d seen live footage of different areas of the facility, but you can’t much remember. You do at least know you saw the theater. Thinking on it now makes you wonder what other blind spots there might be around the places you know.

The Overseer never really gave indication that he heard precisely what you discussed under the table, merely that he knew what you were going to and that your attempt only made it obvious. You wonder, then, if the audio that’s picked up isn’t picked up particularly well. Could you get away with saying anything at all if it’s said quietly? Whispered?

Not like it much matters. You may well die soon. Your heart only sinks when you’re reminded of this fact. Remembering the sight of the theater worsens your pain. If the last time you saw Cyrus and Lav was truly the last time you’ll ever see them, then you’re glad that you all shared some moment of affection between one another. It still pains you to think that you left Cyrus behind without a kiss. For as much as it’s hard to fully remember the feeling of happiness you felt then, to remember specific things about the young man’s touch and taste and sensation, you can remember the moment you had with him before leaving that day.

Mindlessly, you take your eyes away from the cameras and look down at your bare legs. Both your hands are held gently in your lap. Now that the thought of your companion lingers in your mind, you finally take the opportunity to discuss him.

“Um…can I ask about Cyrus?”

“Mm? If you like,” Gale agrees. “What of him, Ten?”

“Well…” You struggle to come up with what to start with, but figure you should begin with the feeds, and build up to Cyrus. “When I first came here, your boss showed me something—video feeds of you interviewing all my friends. Before…before their memories were completely wiped away.”

This looks to surprise Gale, as their brows raise slightly.

“He showed you that?” They question curiously. “Why on earth would he? Just to torment you?”

“Your boss allowed me to ask him three questions, and one of them was why I knew him and Lucius,” you explain. “When I met them the first time, when I encountered Jay, they looked familiar to me. Only after coming here did I really find out I remembered them vaguely because I’d met them before.”

You scowl to yourself.

“He interviewed me instead of you. Why?”

“I don’t exactly know,” Gale says plainly. You don’t believe them, but evidently they can sense this because they immediately follow their statement with, “I mean it. I said I’m not in my superior’s closest circle and don’t always know everything about his intentions. That was one of his intentions I was not a part of. He insisted then that he helm your interview, and he had me watch from here. I wasn’t really in a position to say no.

“I also found his method odd. He’s not a very kind man to the patients, so he doesn’t coax out information slowly the way I do. He forces it out of people, scares them. But what struck me as strange was his insistence on giving you the activities he did. I have an idea as to why he might have, but still don’t know exactly why.”

“And you won’t tell me more about it?”

“No,” Gale refuses you. “It’s best I don’t.”

You sigh. Evidently you’ll get no answers here. Nonetheless, you move on.

“And what about the others, then? And your role in all that?”

Gale frowns. “I can vividly remember each of your companions’ reactions to this place. I imagine it was hard for you to sit through. It wasn’t pretty, the emotions they had.”

“I know full well,” you spit back. “I saw how horrified they were. I heard the things they remembered, before you all made them forget it entirely. It broke my heart watching them.”

Gale shifts their icy eyes away from you.

“It’s just part of my job,” they say. “I assess people and parse information by observing behavior and particular ticks. Tone of voice, body language, looks in the eye. All of it. I dig for information because I’m one of the few people in this place who can. My boss, he really admired that about me.”

“Did you enjoy watching them squirm?” You angrily question. “The way the other doctors do?”

“It was a little rough the first few times I did it,” Gale admits. “But it soon became second nature. By the time your group rolled around, it wasn’t difficult at all.

“It’s very easy to lie to people when they’re frightened, Ten. it’s very easy to read them too. They always try to hide what they know because they’re afraid they’ll lose it. They can connect the dots of not remembering things and only remembering specific things quite quickly, but they fail to realize they will lose everything anyway.

“Of course, some are still quite resilient. Eight and Nine, for instance. in Seven’s case, she was merely stubborn and hardheaded. But, like the rest, she crumbled. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

“No,” you agree. “Or do you think avoiding it makes me weak?”

“It’s a perfectly natural response, Ten,” Gale calmly assures you. “I said avoiding things completely isn’t healthy, but humans do as they please, even knowing they shouldn’t. Besides, I also said it’s a long, complicated process., so do take your time. Now, you wanted to move onto Cyrus, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” You don’t bother hiding it. “His feed was the only one I didn’t see. Do you know what happened?”

Gale smiles. “What occurred was no different than what had with the others. I presume he simply wasn’t grouped with your other companions.”

“That’s what Lucius told me. I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“It is.”

You look up then, directly at the doctor. “Couldn’t you show me?”

Gale shakes their head. “No, Ten. I can’t.”

“Because you won’t? Or because you shouldn’t?”

“Because I can’t,” the doctor repeats, firmly this time. “I can’t access old feeds unless he wants me to have access to them. They’re encrypted, protected. If he wants me to see something, he will show me himself. Or, if he allows me to access it, as is the case with feeds of the recreational areas, he’ll leave it accessible for me or leave me with a password to it. But there are things I’m not allowed to access. Even though I was there for the interviews, he’s protective of a lot of things like that. But I can easily tell you what was said, if you so like. It’s hardly special.”

You part your lips to speak, but your eyes suddenly shift back to the computer behind Gale. You note an image of The Overseer and Lucius rounding a corner of one hall, and promptly call out to the white-haired doctor by your bedside to warn them.

Gale turns their head toward the screen, then rises promptly.

“I should go.”

With little time, they quickly work to give you your regular injection and shuffle things about as they usually do. There’s little time spared after the moment they draw the curtain and sit back by the console to bring up the feeds they were expected to have been observing, but things luckily go off without a hitch.

You again face the wall and curl up, but listen to the light conversation between the doctors. Gale gives their superior their falsified report, then leaves. Meanwhile, The Overseer returns to his console and starts to furiously type. It’s this repetitive sound of key pressing that soon helps lulls you into a short slumber.

When next you wake, You’re alone with The Overseer. You’re grateful for this, since it means Lucius won’t attempt to extract any pleasure from you. Even better is that the man brings you your next meal. Despite him crudely shoving it at you, you’re so eager for actual food that you don’t even care to be offended.

You dine hungrily, taking in large forkfuls of food. Whatever’s on your plate hardly matters, you just want something in your stomach. The Overseer merely eyes your sloppy eating and lightly sneers, but otherwise returns to his work until you’re done and ready to be left behind your curtain veil again.

Time passes, and you eventually nap on your own, forcing yourself to sleep to avoid the discomfort of your looming thoughts of death. You don’t suppose putting it in the back of your mind, or attempting to, is doing any favors for you, Gale did say this sort of thing takes time, and you’ve even always known this with the things you’ve experienced here. Nonetheless, it still eats away at you. The only way you can stop it in the moment is to distract yourself by any means possible.

Only when you wake are you again met with Lucius alone and the curtain open. When he notes that you’re awake, he remarks that his boss has gone upstairs to handle affairs in the facility aboveground. You want to ask what goes on up there, but know he’ll give no answers.

His use of your mouth persists quite promptly, as he bids you to prepare it for him. This time, he playfully shakes your head as he grips it, watching as you remain helpless to his touch. His coy smirk stings to see, and you do everything possible to avoid it.

Like before, your mouth is promptly filled with his warm cock, and you play your expected role once more and eagerly suck him off. Without your hands shivering, and having had time to prepare for this act, it’s not as difficult to focus. Though, this hardly changes your level of disgust at being forced to pleasure the man. You continue not to know if you’re genuinely pleasing him, or if he’s merely amused having someone to lord over in such a disgusting manner. Regardless, you take it. If Lucius accepts your mouth, perhaps you’ll be okay. He could just as easily change his mind, and you know this. But you’d rather not invoke the idea in him naturally.

It disgusts you that Lucius has said he can take or leave such sexual acts, yet he’s choosing to make you do this explicitly to make you suffer. You’re just a toy to him. A hand-me-down thing of little worth that he doesn’t even really want, but is willing to use nonetheless. Perhaps he sees all prisoners the way he sees the workers. You’re glad he’s not a regular.

Again, Lucius does not make much noise beyond breathing deeply and occasionally grunting when he comes close to finishing. And, again, he shoves your head down and forces you to take all of his shaft before coming forcefully into you, his thick load splashing all over your teeth and tongue and throat. This time, you’re prepared for him to do this, and so you luckily don’t choke. Regardless, his creamy load sits in your mouth, and you’re forced to swallow all of it. It tastes musky and thickly coats you.

As always, you finish with a quiet, despicable cleaning of Lucius’ hard cock with your tongue, sweetly sucking off the tip and licking the shaft of any residue like he expects. Like before, he commands you to tell him thank you, and you swallow your dignity to sourly do so.

Only The Overseer feeds you normal food. Lucius continues to assert that his cum will suffice and eats your meals in front of you. The flavor of his seed lingers against your tongue in a grossly sour way, but you can do nothing for it but lick your own arm or even the sheet on your mattress. Lucius watches your meager attempt from the corner of his eye with a quiet amusement, but you don’t much care.

When next you see Gale, they casually chuckle.

“How unfortunate that we were cut off. But I figured it would happen.”

You watch quietly as they scribble their notes down once more.

“…About Cyrus,” you cut the chase, not wanting to waste time again, and certainly wanting something for what you’re being put through for this. Gale makes a “hm?” noise, but does not look up. You grip the fabric of the sheet beneath you tightly in one hand while sitting there.

“You were going to tell me how his assessment went, right?”

“If you like, Ten,” Gale nods. “It was quite standard, really. I’m sure he’s told you he was a little different back with his old group, and that’s true. He had much more fight in him, though not as much as someone like your Eight does. He asked a lot of questions, made a lot of comments, spoke up a lot. Much like you. He’s become far more docile with time. But, not necessarily in defeat, I don’t think. Moreso acceptance. But even he has his moments. He’s carrying a lot of painful memories, and restricts himself from letting others see him in pain, as you well know.”

You look down, recalling all of Cyrus’ moments of negativity. He’s always been capable of speaking defeatedly, he’s just always tried to confront his emotions and fight against the ones that threaten his mental health.

“…Yeah,” is the only response you’re able to give. Gale smiles to themself while finishing up their report.

“He’s a sweet young man, Ten. I’ve come to enjoy chatting with him. Watching him hurt wasn’t really easy, but it’s part of the job, I suppose. I helped him through what I could. The rest was up to him.”

“Why?” You question. “Why is he so special that you have to preserve him and treat him so differently?”

“Mm, many reasons,” is Gale’s plain answer. “Some I know, others I don’t. Do you know anything about Momma?”

“Mom?” You inquire with uncertainty as to why Gale’s suddenly brought her up. You don’t know whether to disclose what you overheard from The Overseer and Lucius prior. Doing so will only tip Lucius off about the placebo switch, so you remain silent on that. Instead, you opt to say, “I do know she’s probably important. The longer I’ve been here, the more I’ve come to figure she’s had a place in your boss’ circle, even if she no longer does.”

“Yes,” Gale confirms this. “Though she’s still part of his group, technically. In any case, if you know that, then I can tell you without issue that she’s had Cyrus as her Number for a long time. She’s enamored by him. I think perhaps the only reason he’s not touched so much by my boss is partly because of Momma’s prior service to him. He always punishes her for her disrespect of him, but never takes the boy away, whereas it’s so different with you and Yosuke because the man is so new. Among other reasons.”

You don’t bother commenting on what they mean. Both of you know those reasons.

“Maybe it’s me assuming,” Gale goes on, “but I think she strikes a chord with him for a specific reason. But of course, I never pry in his personal affairs. It’s hardly my place. And I wasn’t really here from the very beginning, so there’s much I don’t know about his relationship with those who have been here longer.”

They sigh.

“But of course, that’s hardly the only reason Cyrus is treated the way he is. I’m sure there are others. Any special treatment he gets now, any leniency there is toward what he says to others, is likely because of how long he’s been here. I admit, even I’m curious to know what will befall him in time. As for why the special treatment prior, I don’t know. I was asked to assess him after he witnessed the things he did, but that’s really all. I didn’t gather much from that beyond his own personal feelings toward things and how he tends to react to tragedy and stress.”

“And the feed?” You attempt to refocus the conversation. Gale chuckles.

“Of course, my apologies. I’m getting sidetracked. His interview was much like that of the others,” they explain. “He was equally as frightened, equally as nervous. He kept asking where he was, and why. Most every subject makes the same kind of remarks. In Cyrus’ case, he frustrated that he couldn’t understand what was happening or why. He begged for us to let him go, mentioned someone he needed to check up on.”

Your eyes widen.

“Like a family member? A friend? A…partner?”

“A family member,” Gale does not attempt to hide it. “A sick one.”

“Are they still alive?” You ask. Gale tilts their head.

“What I’ve said on the matter is as much as I will,” they tell you. “In any case, we got information out of Cyrus quite quickly. He, of all the others, remembered a lot of things he shouldn’t have. More than just one detail, though those things he knew namely surrounded this person he brought up. All we could do after a while of back and forth was put him out. He fought, we restrained him, and then we whisked him away.”

They frown, then. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to see it. I know how much he means to you. It must have been difficult enough seeing Nine’s assessment, though you know now that she’s always been a resilient girl.”

“They all mean a lot to me,” you remind the doctor promptly. “They’re my family.”

“It does make you feel better to call them that, doesn’t it?”

You scowl. “I don’t do it because it makes me feel better. I do it because that’s what they are. I love them.”

Gale sits back and watches as your face grows solemn. They say nothing and allow you to process the wave of miserable emotions your statement brings. You don’t cry, but you grit your teeth a moment and try to hold in your frustrations. Only after you’re able to do so do you finally speak up again and try to press on from the topic.

“How was he like back then? With Jade?”

Gale smiles.

“He was an awkward boy,” they admit, almost laughing. “He’s never been great at expressing his emotions. Back then, especially. He adored the girl, and showed his affection by being present for her. Everything he’s told you is true: He wanted to make sure she was okay, he wanted to rescue her from her misery. But he failed.”

“You could have helped him. You had before.”

“I suppose,” the doctor remarks, again frowning then. “But what’s done is done. At the very least, he has you now, however it is he sees you personally. I’m actually quite proud of him for being more open. He’s changed quite a lot. Watching him has been like watching a child grow up right before your eyes. Fascinating.”

This makes you grimace. Again, Gale’s words of loving their patients and their words of finding them intriguing as subjects of observation conflict. It’s twisted.

“Momma’s sheltered him for so long,” Gale remarks. “I can only imagine how it’s felt for her since he’s her Number. She does love the boy. I’d say she once thought of him as a real son, but her wires have crossed with time, so I’ve heard. She confuses affection and lust quite easily.”

“How long has Cyrus actually been here?” You ask. Gale merely shakes their head.

“I won’t say, Ten,” they refuse you. “But it’s phenomenal, to say the least, that he’s survived as long as he has. Everyone else has perished around him, been lost to time and through circumstance. But he remains.”

The room goes quiet a moment as you struggle to respond. It seems Cyrus is and isn’t special in some way. But you’re not sure how much of what Gale’s said this entire time about anything at all is true. You have no reason to suspect that they’re lying, but you know there’s a lot they can’t tell you. Nonetheless, when you don’t respond at all, Gale then speaks up.

“He has a deep love for you,” they say gently. “He and Nine both, it seems. As no doubt you must truly cherish them as well.”

“I probably won’t ever see them again,” you comment, your voice low and miserable. “Or anyone.”

Gale leans over and touches your shoulder.

“You might,” they try to be reassuring. But you remain stubborn.

“No. I won’t.”

Gale goes quiet, though they look down at their wrist to check the time.

“I should go,” they say, cutting the conversation short. The doctor adjusts themself as always, pocketing their watch and bringing out another dose of anesthetic. You keep your head hung and don’t even bother to react at being pricked this time. Your hands slightly tremble, but you stay still otherwise.

You’re guided back on the bed gently by the doctor. You want dearly to ask them something, but hesitate. Only when Gale prepares to leave you behind the curtain do you suddenly reach out and grab their wrist, stopping them.

“Gale,” you beg for them. “Could you do me a favor?”

The icy-eyed doctor looks on at you with surprise, but indulges the request.

“What is it?”

Your voice slightly stammers as you try to make the request, and you refuse to look the doctor in the eye.

“C-could you…please tell me you love me?”

“Huh?” Gale raises a dark brow. “You want to hear it from me of all people? I thought you hated me.”

You shut your eyes and tighten your grip around the doctor’s wrist.

“It’s not you that I want to hear it from,” you clarify sharply “I just want to hear it. Please. I want you to say it sweetly, like you mean it.”

The doctor looks down at you with upturned brows. Though they glance away a moment, they do finally indulge your request. Gently, they hunch down and hover over your body, running their hand sweetly through your hair while steadying themself on the mattress with their other hand. Gale looks longingly into your eyes and smiles gently, then leans into your ear.

“I love you,” they murmur softly, before tenderly kissing your cheek.

Slowly, your eyes close again, and your breath deepens as you threaten to cry. You try not to, doing anything you can to prevent it: gripping the sheet beneath you, breathing harshly, gritting your teeth.

Gale soon stops petting you and leaves you to your slumber. You aren’t sure what they might be thinking of you for asking them what you did. You still aren’t even really sure if you’ll die here, but you start to think you truly will.

You’ve been under so much stress in your confinement here that all you wanted was assurance. Comfort. Something. If by chance you are slated to die, then it’s only fair for you to have wanted one last thing to make your suffering here worthwhile, even if it had to come from a doctor. The way Yosuke has said the same phrase has always sickened you, but at least with Gale, you believed it more.

As more time passes, you come back into consciousness and eavesdrop on the two men discussing more protocol of some kind. You ignore them after a while, instead replaying Gale’s words in your head over and over, trying to pretend they came from Cyrus or Lav. It hurts your heart, yet simultaneously acts as the only bit of comfort to cling to for now.

You try as hard as you can to accept the reality of your situation like Gale suggested, but as expected, you continue to struggle with it and turn to being coddled by the illusion of having the words uttered to you by those you hold dear. But it’s not as if those words are false. Even Cyrus had once said he loved you. How, you can only guess. You have an idea, but you want him to be the one to tell you.

Later on, you’re left alone again with Lucius, and again you’re forced to please him. By now, it’s no longer a chore. You merely do as told quietly, again ignoring the man’s dark gaze as he coyly relishes in your misery. You hardly really respond to his forcing of you beyond wincing at the pain of his tight grip on your hair and scalp.

The man force-feeds you more of his warm seed, breathing deeply as his cock eagerly throbs against your tongue and spurts out more and more of his creamy load. You gulp it down as expected, your eyes tired and unresponsive as your mouth is used.

When you pull out and catch your breath, you again move your head toward the man’s cock to clean it off, but he stops you by roughly grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up. Cum dribbles out of the corner of your mouth as you continue to breathe through it. Oddly, the man does not grow angry at the waste. He merely frowns watching your tired face.

“I suppose this is getting a little boring,” he comments dryly, seeing your weary expression. “Your throat can only pleasure me for so long.”

You remain quiet, but slowly move your eyes to the side, not wanting to see Lucius’ face. You merely swallow again to try getting down the rest of his cum, then ask,

“It’s time…?”

Lucius scoffs. “Don’t make assumptions now, princess. It’ll come when it comes. I’m sure Gale will defend you, anyway. You should be grateful so many doctors stick up for you.”

“I never asked them to,” you mutter. “It’s not my fault they treat me like this.”

Lucius cocks his head. “Like what?”

“Like I’m special.”

This makes the man hovering over you burst into deep, throated laughter. Then roughly grabs your hair and tugs you forcefully back onto the bed. The sharp pain this brings you only makes you instinctively reach up to try prying the man away. You let out a pained yell, and you heart beats wildly as you try to make sense of these rapid and painful movements against you.

Your eyes squeezed shut in the moment you were pulled back, and when they open, Lucius is hovering himself over you on the bed, with one fist pressed against the mattress while the other hand continues to tightly grip you. Though he’d been laughing just prior, his face is now twisted in a displeasured scowl.

Your breath deepens as you feel the cloth of Lucius’ pants leg brush against your own bare leg as he straddles you on his knees. He’s not pressing his weight against you, but you remain fearful when you see him this way. Not once has he ever done anything like this. You start to beg repeatedly in your mind for him not to touch you the way you’ve become accustomed to being touched in this facility.

Not now. Not now…!

The man tugs at your hair again, roughly and unapologetically. He merely watches with his displeased face as you writhe in pain, your mouth agape and eyes shutting tightly as you cry out.

“Don’t get so confident, now,” he spits out. “You aren’t some important person. Everything that’s happened to you is circumstantial.”

While you try and fail to pry the man’s grip from your hair, Lucius leans in closer to your face, the heat of his breath hitting your cheek as he speaks in a hushed but furious tone.

“You aren’t here because you are special. You are here because you happened to be cursed by bad luck. It could have been anyone in your position. Anyone at all. But it happened to be you.”

You continue to squirm beneath him, writhing in pain as you begin to feel like he’ll rip your hair out pulling It so much. You can’t see the man’s face, but you know he’s watching your twisted expression intently. He then breathes laughter against your cheek as you amuse him.

“If you’re to take it up with anyone, take it up with God,” he blows into your ear. “Scorn him for putting you in this position. In this place. But don’t beg him to save you, because he won’t.“

Your eyes shoot open widely as you suddenly feel the man’s lips roughly take hold of yours. While he continues to grip your hair tightly and yank it back to keep you in place, he aggressively takes hold of your lips, working them forcefully. The man’s eyes close as he takes you, and his breaths flare heavily from his nostrils with immense force. You’re unable to physically fight him, so you merely tremble and give off muffled moans of protest.

This torture hardly continues for much longer. Lucius soon pulls away and hovers over your face, examining it while you suck in heavy breaths. Warily, your eyes open, though they shakily glance down at the man’s body. His phallus is still out, his pants still open. You beg and beg and beg in your head for him not to touch you.

Suddenly, Lucius scowls and scoffs watching your frightened face and wide eyes. He lets your hair go and shoves each shoulder roughly in annoyance as he pushes off of you.

“I have no time for this” he mutters bitterly. “We’re done.”

Still shivering, and still with your eyes wide, you hug your body now that it’s been freed of the man’s warmth hovering atop it. You hear Lucius zip himself back up, but your eyes remain affixed to the ceiling. He looks over at you while reaching a hand to the curtain to draw it, then frowns.

“I see no reason why you’re acting so frightened, princess,” he comments snidely. “If you do go back out there, you’re going to have to take it anyway. Your womb is weak, but your impregnation is imminent. It’s only a matter of waiting for a seed to successfully implant amid a flurry of forceful tries.”

Only then does he drag the curtain violently along the bar, shutting you out.

When you’re alone, you turn on your side toward the wall and try to comfort yourself, try as hard as you can to come down from the shock. You have no idea why the thought of being used scared you so much when you had accepted that you were impregnable. You knew the reality of it, but…

No, it’s not just that. You’re afraid of being impregnated and dying all in one. Both fears are present and combined.

You try to pace your breathing in a steady manner, and squeeze your eyes shut while trying to concentrate.

You’re fine, you’re okay… you tell yourself. Though, you wonder for how long you will be. If you will die here, what does it even matter? Impregnation is the least of your worries at this very moment, regardless of your fearful reaction to almost being raped by a man who’s tortured you fiercely all this time, who lavishes in making you squirm in much worse ways than your own doctor. It’s a problem you have to push aside for another, but the thought of such a problem only worsens how you feel now.

Even if there’s a mere chance of you dying, you still can’t predict The Overseer’s temper, nor his capacity for leniency. He may choose to be harsh, or he may choose to let it slide with just a beating. You can’t know. If you live, then your fear will remain intact, only refocused to your womb.

The fear of death you can do nothing for. As for the fear of pregnancy, all you can do now is try to remind yourself that a pregnancy doesn’t certainly mean death. It may only mean a clean-slate memory. This might be tragic, but it’d still allow you time to be happy with people who care about you. Despite fearing both options you have now, you’d rather face pregnancy. You want a chance at living.

You know Lucius wants to use you, like all the rest, even though he restrained himself this time. It seems his boss has a good reason to keep Lucius from indulging in his desires. He needs his partner to concentrate. Even though Lucius uses the workers, if he’s reacting this way to a Number, you fear how he might be If he were allowed to see them regularly. He’s just as crazy as anyone else. As Milos, as Mom, as Lilah. Perhaps being in this place and doing this kind of thing to people for long periods of time truly does suck away your humanity.

Right now, you desperately want to be put out, to sleep. You’re too shaken to do it on your own, even though you’re trying to calm yourself down. At some point your shivering lets up, and your breathing normalizes. Your heart continues to beat a bit fast, but no longer pounds like it had. Regardless, no sleep comes. You can do nothing more but lie there, agonizingly waiting for your next, and likely last meeting with Gale. Either forever, or for a while.

What’s the best option here? To convince yourself that you won’t die? Or to accept that you might? You know what the doctor would say, but it’s hard to merely look death in the face and accept it. It’s hard enough to live in this place and endure what you do.

But…

You’ve survived a lot so far, right? You should be proud. Lav, Cyrus, everyone—they’ve all been so proud of you. It’d be a shame to let them down now. You’re glad they can’t see you like this. It would break their hearts.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting tears subtly spill from your eyes and roll down toward the mattress. If you might die, then you’ll at least be grateful for all the love you were given. You’ll at least die with happier memories of people who tried their best to help you, of people whom you loved dearly. They may be foggy now, but they’re still there.

The other Numbers have changed so much. You’re proud. Maybe you might not be around, but they can still keep going until it’s time for them to go too. At least if you die, you know for certain you’ll see the others again someday.

What a wicked though. But you don’t think it with ill intentions. You do want the others to keep surviving. You want them to go as long as they can. If you can’t make it, you’ll at least be satisfied knowing they did.

Should you survive, you’ll be glad to return to your friends. Even if it means your memory might be wiped before you do, all you want is to see them again. You know you have to build and maintain your own strength somehow, but seeing the others again would definitely help. You won’t rely on them so hard next time. You’ll try to fight for yourself more often. But just this once, you want to indulge in them guiltlessly.

Soon, you’re calm again, and The Overseer returns to the room. You hear him mutter something about workers aboveground. You wonder if he means regular people. You can’t imagine he’d have anything shady going on aboveground as he does down here. But if they are normal people, you wonder whether they’re part of anything shady too. After all, it seems that such terrible drugs are made here. There is always a chance that it’s produced aboveground.

You’re again fed, but don’t once bother looking at either man while you quietly dine. You know Lucius is eyeing you coyly, and you know that The Overseer is ignoring you utterly. There’s a tension here that remains unspoken. The doctors’ boss is calm now, but he will soon be wrathful against both you and Gale. You’re sure Lucius is going to make his move soon. You have only but to prepare for the consequence.

You look down at your plate. It’s some kind of rice and chicken dish, spiced with something you can’t place. If by chance this is your last meal, it’s a pretty plain one, but you’ll take it. For the first time in a long time here, you savor every bite. To yourself, you thank Charlie for it, like you did when your strength was still intact.

Once more, you’re dosed with the placebo, this time by The Overseer. Your heart beats faster at his proximity. You irrationally fear that he might suddenly know the bottle isn’t of the real anesthetic, but he doesn’t much bat an eye. He remains expressionless as he injects you. He hardly even gives a word before he shuts your curtain again.

When next Gale arrives, you’re not exactly pleased to see them knowing what their emergence means. Even so, you try to cooperate with them and talk as you have been. Unfortunately, they notice quite quickly that you’re sullen and remark upon it.

“You seem a little down,” they note, taking their usual seat. “For what reason?”

You don’t really give an answer, not certain on how to formulate your words. Gale looks on at you, then extends their hand. This time, you recoil from their touch.

“It’s Lucius again?” They guess. Correctly so. You couldn’t much prevent your reaction.

“It’s not really just that,” you say solemnly. “But…”

Gale pauses to watch you before giving off a long sigh. They stop writing then and leave their clipboard in their lap, no doubt finding the falsified report pointless now.

“I see,” they mumble to themself. “He’s aware of what’s going on.”

You technically said nothing, so the man has no reason to hold this over you. Gale merely read you, as even he expected they would.

“I presume he’s been keeping you quiet with whatever he’s been doing with you, then,” the doctor again correctly guesses. “I do apologize. Though you and I both knew the risks coming into this.”

“I know,” you don’t wholly disagree. “So what now? What’s going to happen if…Am I just going to die?”

“I’d like to say no, Ten,” Gale says with a light exhale. “But, I can’t say for sure. As I said before, you have to be straight with him, and not cower fearfully. He may marginally respect your attempt.”

You ball your fists against the mattress. “Why bother helping me try to survive him? If I’m going to die, then why give any advice that might save me? You got all the information you wanted from me, got to study me, and will continue to get to study others. You don’t have a reason to save me.”

“Perhaps I’m making up for lost time,” the doctor says, smiling to themself. “I didn’t get to see the real you in person before your memory was taken away. My boss was the one who had the opportunity. But I am genuinely just curious as to what might happen with you. Should you die, then I’ll unfortunately never know what I want to. I did say I wanted to see how things go.

“It is, of course, a bit selfish. But I won’t say I’d be happy to see you die either. I’d miss you, really. I miss most of my patients. If I can help you get through this, I will. But if you die, then it’s wholly out of my hands.”

“And you accept that?”

“I do, even though I still want what I want. It used to eat at me. But I now know that there is no permanence here,” Gale remarks. You notice they don’t really look at you while they speak. They’re glancing thoughtfully to the side, as if distracted by something. You wonder if even they’re afraid.

“Then why get attached to anyone?” You question them. “You say you’ll be fine with the outcome, that you accept it, yet you try to help others when you feel like it, even if there’s a selfish motivation. If you were really okay with it, you wouldn’t let your curiosity attach you to your prisoners.”

“Human emotion and motivation are complex, Ten,” Gale reminds you, finally shifting their icy eyes toward your profile. “Even people who train extensively to study it don’t know everything. I can’t rationalize all my thoughts or even fully explain them. Knowing what I do can often help me sort things out, but I’m not perfect.

“It’d be better if I had someone to collaborate with, but I don’t. Like Lilah, Yosuke, or Milos, I work purely on my own. The closest collaborators I really have are your own doctor and my boss, but neither are exactly experts at my field. My superior cares little for human emotion, and Yosuke merely picks and chooses what he cares to use and observe. Neither can quite do what I do, nor fully understand it.”

“I can’t wrap my head around you, Gale,” you tell the doctor firmly. “You act as if you care, but you only do so when it’s convenient for you. You try to be kind, yet your very decision to be here for your own selfish reasons conflicts with the nature you’d like to display.”

You scoff angrily. “Do you even care about your own Number? I saw how she reacted to you in the feed I was shown. She was in pain at just the sight of you. So does she know you? Did you have her brought here? Isn’t that just so selfish? You can’t tell me you care when you’d be that horrible, especially to someone you really do care about!”

Gale’s eyes slightly widen as they listen to you. Despite the outburst, they do not grow angry. The white-haired doctor merely looks down and exhales a long breath through their nose.

“I do truly love her,” they tell you. “I am selfish, though. I wanted to keep her close.”

“Will you let her fall like the others?” You question. Gale’s brows slightly furrow.

“No. I know that I can’t protect her, and I know what it means for her to be in this place. Even then, I still wanted someone like her to be here. But I take good care of her, Ten. I have to. Only I can.

“I even allowed her to see someone else. I wanted her to be happy. And I’m happy seeing her happy. I get to watch her closely. I get to see her smile and laugh in a way she won’t with me.”

Your brows upturn as you hear this, and your heart sinks. “You paired them on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Gale admits. “I won’t lie that it was one of my little experiments, and that observing the two together has been fruitful for my work. My coupling them together was indeed selfish. But I did also do it knowing that she would be happy with that girl.”

“It must be nice knowing every thought she has,” you bitterly comment. “She won’t share a thing with you, so you resort to eavesdropping on her, manipulating her. You’re sick.”

“Call it what you like, Ten,” Gale remains unmoved by your words. “I’m her guardian. I watch over her and make sure she’s okay, even at a distance. My intentions are selfish, but I treat her well.”

“Why is it so different with her?” You question suddenly. “You sound so selective. You’re making it sound like she’s important to you. I suspected since I saw her reaction to you that she might have been. Back then, you begged your boss to make things better, just so you could keep her. Why?”

Gale hesitates to speak, then, their eyes widely fixated on your face. You await an answer, and receive none. Gale merely brings a hand to their mouth and rubs at the chin and lips thoughtfully, exhaling a long breath through their nose as they try to think on how to answer. For once, they genuinely seem bothered.

Before the doctor can speak up again, your eyes shift behind them, and your heart jumps when you catch sight of the men rounding the corner of the hall on one of the screens. You gasp, causing Gale’s shocked expression to wither. They blink a few times, then turn their head toward the console.

“He knows,” they remark upon examining their superior’s face. “I see that look in his eye.”

Your heart continues to pound as Gale turns again toward you. Despite just struggling, their calm demeanor returns. They smile.

“I suppose we’re going to have to cut things short again,” they say. “Dealing with him will be scary, Ten. But I’m positive you can push through it.”

Even amidst the unpleasant conversation and your crudeness, they continue to try helping you.

“Merely watch what I do and repeat it. Keep my advice to heart, like you said you would.”

“Will you die?” Your voice shakes as you ask this. Gale’s smile does not falter.

“No. But I will hurt. And then I will heal,” they say. The white-haired doctor then gently touches your cheek. This time, you don’t recoil from them.

“As will you.”

You gasp as the room entrance opens. Emerging from the doorway are The Overseer, and his casually observing partner. Lucius stands behind the man, his arms folded as he watches the scene unfold. For just a moment, his dark eyes flicker your way, and his lips just subtly curve into a knowing smirk.

The Overseer, meanwhile, stares at the open curtain, then back at Gale with a subtle tinge of fury in his eyes. His eyebrows are just barely lowered, though he remains calm otherwise.

“Is this how you choose to repay my kindness in giving you the privileges I do?” He questions loudly, his voice frighteningly firm despite his subtler expression. “I expect this repeated behavior from others. Not you.”

Gale calmly rises from their chair, leaving the clipboard there. They turn to face their superior, hands at their sides.

“The fault is my own, sir,” they say straightforwardly, wholly admitting their transgression. They look upon the man with calmness as they stare directly into his grey eyes.

“Why did you do this, Gale?” The Overseer questions them. “Explain your reasoning to me.”

Gale does not flinch hearing such a frightful and harsh tone from their superior.

“I only wanted to speak with her. I understand it changes little of my wronging of you. I know that this was a disrespectful gesture. I won’t try to hide that.”

The Overseer’s brows slightly furrow further.

“Then you know what comes next.”

“Yes,” Gale answers without question. “An eye for an eye.”

Not acknowledging the statement further, The Overseer gestures to Lucius behind him. His piercing grey gaze remains affixed to Gale, as theirs in turn remains affixed to their boss. Lucius calmly walks behind Gale and grabs their arms, wrapping one of his own around them. With the other, he wraps it tightly around their chest, just under their neck to steady them and keep them still. Your eyes widen as The Overseer steps closer to Gale, slowly this time. He opens and closes his fists a few times, prepping for what he’s about to do.

You watch in horror as the man then swings his arm toward Gale and punches them hard in the side of the head and face. The doctor lets out a pained grunt, shutting their eyes as they’re relentlessly beaten. You’re unable to move, unable to even look away as the doctor’s blood starts to draw from their injuries. The Overseer continues to furiously swing at Gale, who’s by now limp from the constant string of blows.

The beating doesn’t last very long, but in your fearful state, you interpret it as far longer. No doubt Gale feels the same since they’re the one enduring the pain. By the time The Overseer finishes, Gale’s skin around one of their eyes is swollen, and their lip is dribbling blood.

The Overseer nods to his partner, and so Lucius promptly lets Gale go. They fall to the ground, but catch themself with their hands instinctively. Their breath shakes as they try to gather their wits. Despite the relentless pain the no doubt must feel, the doctor holds things in. They hardly make much noise beyond an occasional pained groan.

The Overseer watches the doctor on the floor from above them, his fists resting now at his sides, painted slightly with his associate’s blood.

“Gale,” he calls out, his voice less harsh now. He speaks low, but still somewhat firm. “You know it pleases me little to do this to you.”

The white-haired doctor on the floor does not look up, still trying to gather themself. Only when they’re called again do they finally raise their head and look up at their boss. They remain quiet, awaiting his word.

“Get up,” The Overseer calls to them, in a far less harsh tone. He slowly extends a palm to the doctor on the floor, his knuckles still a bit bloodied.

“I need you.”

Gale pauses a moment, but shakily brings their hand up and grips their superior’s, using it to help them rise.

“I know,” they say wearily as they do. Once they’re up, The Overseer eyes them expressionlessly, then brings his hand up to attempt touching the doctor’s cheek. This makes them wince at the stinging pain this brings them. Drawing his hand away, The Overseer then down looks at his bloodied fingers and frowns.

“Lucius.”

His attention aroused, Lucius perks his head up and stands straight. “Yeah, boss?”

The Overseer glances at Gale, then back to his partner.

“Give me the key, then tend to Gale’s injuries,” is his sharp order. Lucius nods, but say nothing more. He reaches into his shirt to pull out the chain key, the sight of which makes you shudder. Once he hands the thing over to his boss, he then takes Gale’s arm and guides the weary doctor out of the room. They don’t have a chance to even look at you before they’re whisked away.

The feed on the main monitor of the console shows the two walking off. All you can hear is a few strings of their conversation.

“You went and did it again, hm?” Lucius remarks. The audio from the feed changes the sound of his voice. It’s an unclear sound, with crackling feedback.

Strangely, Gale gives a weak laugh. “I guess so.”

You hear nothing else as the pair departs, though your attention does not linger long on them anyway. You’re alone with The Overseer now, your body trembling and your heart beating incessantly. You try to breathe deeply as you eye the man. He merely observes the key in his hand, then flickers his grey eyes sharply toward you. However, he says nothing, nor does he approach you.

Instead, he heads to the restroom. You soon hear the rushing sound of running water, much to your unease. You have no idea what he’s intending, and you remain cowering in fear at the uncertainty.

Your heart again jumps when the man emerges. He does not once look at you, but does move to one of his cabinets to pull out a cuff. Once he has it, he finally steps closer to you. His face remains expressionless, though he eyes you with a stern coldness.

His silence persists, but you look up at him, then the cuff, and gather what he expects you to do. You shakily bring your arms behind your back. A chill goes down your spine as you hear and feel the thing clasp shut around your wrists. The Overseer’s fingers and the backs of his hand brush against your flesh as he carries out his task, only chilling you more.

Once he’s done, your chains are released. Without a word of warning, you’re dragged suddenly by your scalp off the bed. You let out a pained yell, but follow the man where he takes you nonetheless. Your legs feel heavy, but you’re aware that you can’t afford to dawdle now.

You’re dragged into the bathroom and by the tub, which is now full of water. Your breath continues to shake as you try breathing deeply. Not bothering to waste time, The Overseer then pushes you down forcefully, making you kneel before the large white thing. Without a word he dunks your head into the cold water and holds you there.

Your chest tightens the longer you’re kept underwater. You hadn’t even really gotten a good breath in before you were pushed in.

You simply can’t breathe. Your heart races, your chest burns. You can’t take it. You can’t even let out a noise of protest. All you can do is squirm and struggle in your bonds.

Before you can start to fade away, you’re pulled back and allowed to suck in a loud, gasping breath. Your bare chest rises and falls sharply. Water drips all about you, falling upon your shoulders and breasts and knees. What doesn’t drip down merely runs along your flesh. Your hair remains damp. Any bit of hair not being vehemently gripped by your lording Overseer clings to the side of your head and the back of your neck

Your head is shaken with immense force, and the man gripping you speaks up firmly, his voice shaking you to your core.

“What did they tell you?”

You realize then that Lucius kept his word. He didn’t tell his boss a single thing about what he recorded. Whether he kept those recordings, and whether he’ll use them against you later, however, remains a mystery. You can’t really focus on it now anyway. You don’t even know if there will be a later.

“W…what?” You breathe, struggling to comprehend the man’s meaning fully in your rattled state. The Overseer is evidently displeased by your inability to properly respond. Again, he dunks your head in the water and holds you there. Your mouth opens, but nothing but a bubble of air comes out. You start to feel the same burning in your chest much faster this time, your shoulders thrashing about as you try to wriggle instinctively away. When again you feel like you’re about to fade, you’re pulled back and suck in even harsher, groaning breaths. Your head is tilted upward, and you’re forced to see the man’s furious face.

“What did they tell you?” The Overseer harshly repeats his question, his fingers curling more tightly in your hair.

“We talked about everything I learned here!” you breathe, still gritting your teeth between words as the pain in your scalp intensifies. “About Monica, about Jade, about the assessments! About Cyrus, and about you!”

This answer only barely satisfies the man. He does not again push you under the water, but he does demand, only with his sharp gaze, for you to elaborate.

“T-they told me about their attachment to the Numbers, about how much they trust you despite not being as close to you as others, about…”

You try desperately to wrack your brain for the information. Why is it escaping you?!

“About the others…about me. They said nothing incriminating. They wouldn’t tell me a lot of things…!”

“You asked to begin with?” The man above you spits out in utter displeasure. He scoffs before again dunking your head under the water. This time, he holds you under for even longer, and all you can do is let out muffled cries that bubble up to the surface.

You start to fade away, struggling to hold your breath for much longer. Your clenched fists loosen as this goes on. But, again, you’re forcefully tugged out of the water. This time, you’re thrown on the floor. Your back hits the hard surface, and you start to cough relentlessly while still attempting to gather your breath. Your eyes remain shut a moment, until you hear a familiar sound.

Click

Your eyes shoot open and shakily shift down in the direction of The Overseer towering above you, and standing by your legs. His revolver is pointed toward your face, and you stare the barrel of it down in fear.

Your throat closes up. Your heart beats out of your chest. Even the mere sight of the gun brings the ringing back into your ears a moment. All you hear is a single tone.

When you look past the gun, you gaze upon the man’s face above you. His blond brows are still furrowed, his eyes sharp and cold.

The Overseer plants his foot roughly on your chest, pushing you further against the ground and making it even harder for you to breathe.

“Tell me why you deserve to live,” he crudely commands you as he rests his finger on the trigger of the gun. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you. Asking so many questions as you do, causing all my workers to act out needlessly. You are far more trouble than you’re worth, girl. I’ve said it before. But now, I’m mad. if you have a reason to be spared, then you tell me now.”

He glowers. “Because I fully intend to shoot otherwise.”

Your heart stops a moment as you hear these words, your eyes wide with fear. All you can do is try to breathe deeply, but doing so makes your chest burn with how sharply you have been breathing all this time. Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die.

You’re….going to die…

The Overseer’s sole presses even more firmly against your chest, enough to where you have to let out a pained gasp. You grit your teeth again and lay your head back as you try to suck up the pain. You can’t afford to waste time now.

Why do you deserve to live? What reason do you have now? If you die, will it even matter?

You don’t want to leave anyone behind. You don’t want to waste away here either. What do you do? What can you even say? No answer will satisfy the man. He thinks nothing of you.

Desperate, you try to remember Gale’s advice in handling the man. You’re so jumbled and fearful that it’s hard to focus, but you try all the same. All you think they really did was look the man in the eye and submit to him. They took all the blame. They accepted their fault.

Your hands shake from behind your back, pressed firmly between your body and the cold floor. Your head becomes dizzied, though you aren’t sure if it’s the fright, the seething pain, or the earlier lack of oxygen.

Despite everything, despite your fear, despite your desire not to die, you force yourself to look The Overseer in his grey eye and stay focused.

“I don’t know!” You manage to squeak out through the pressurized lump in your throat. “I don’t know why I’m alive or why I deserve to live!”

The Overseer’s expression does not change, nor does his arm at all move from its position toward you. His finger remains on the trigger. His eyes remain focused on you.

“I know…” you struggle to get the words out, still gritting your teeth at the pain you’re ladened with. “I know I’m worthless to you. I’m just your prisoner. You don’t think I deserve to live, and I can’t fight you on it…!”

You force yourself to swallow your pride, to put everything aside to focus on him now. The barrel of the man’s black revolver stares you in the face, but you don’t focus on it at all. You stare steadfast past the thing.

You will die here.

You accept this.

Your chest and throat well with pressure. You want to cry, but you refuse. All you do is submit to the man.

“I won’t beg,” you tell him between pained breaths. “I won’t cry. I’m only at your mercy. So kill me if you have to.”

The Overseer continues to eye you, but you don’t let your gaze falter from him. All you do is keep breathing and attempting to choke back any semblance of tears, and push away any other thoughts. You concentrate on the grey of his eyes, on the stern look he gives you.

After a moment, he finally lowers his gun. However, he steps even more firmly on your chest and leans upon his knee with his elbow to get a bit closer to your face. The revolver remains firm in his grip, even if it isn’t pointed at you anymore. The Overseer continues to eye you, his profile hidden from the light in the room coming from above him.

“I will give you no more chances after this,” he tells you with a firm tone. Even with his revolver hanging in his palm and fingers, you notice one finger is still on the trigger.

The Overseer glowers.

“The next time you anger me, I will do so much worse than just kill you. But you’ve piqued my interest with your willingness to accept death. To face it. And, for once, you truly knew your place. But don’t assume I spare you because I think you’re special in any way. You are worthless.”

He presses even more firmly against your chest.

“Say it.”

You wince in pain, but obey his command and squeak out,

“I’m worthless.”

Finally, the man releases your chest and allows you to fully breathe. He does not put his gun away even now, still holding it firmly in his hand. He then scowls at the sight of you on the floor as he watches your attempt at recovery.

“You’ll lie there until Lucius returns,” he then tells you. “You don’t deserve a bed right now.”

This is the last thing he tells you before he departs the room and leaves you on the cold, wet floor. Your body shivers again as the sensation of the cold is heightened because of the wetness. You can’t much process anything right now. You can’t even be grateful that you’re still alive.

All you do is lay there, sucking in breath and shaking like a child.

As the fear gradually subsides, exhaustion takes hold of you instead. You don’t really even have the energy to cry. Instead, you turn your head to the side, your cheek rubbing against the cold, slippery floor. You stare blankly at the foot of the tub by you. You stare so hard, in fact, that you soon stop being able to distinct all the lines in the floor and on the surface of anything around you. All of it blurs together, and you start to hallucinate that you’re in a room of pure white, with nothing else in it.

Not wanting to see the sight any longer, your eyes close, and you try to force yourself to sleep. All you focus on anymore until you do Is the sounds of your slow, labored breathing.

Chapter 66: Adapt

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been left lying on this floor, but you’re soon aroused from your slumber by rough handling of your body. Someone’s hands tug your arm and turns your body over on its back again. Ever drowsy, it takes a moment for your eyes to fully adjust to the sight of the man hovering above you, but the familiar black and white color of his shape clues you in on just who it is. Even before you can fully comprehend your surroundings again, your heart sinks.

“So he let you live, then?” Lucius’ calm voice questions you. No words escape your lips. You don’t have the strength or will right now. All you do is allow the man to watch you with a frown at your bleak demeanor.

“Are you comfortable, princess?” He asks then. “Or shall I bring you to bed?”

You shift your eyes away, which Lucius notices and remarks upon.

“Don’t get excited, now. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” Despite the weariness, you muster these words, muttering them tiredly. You’re in no mood to take anything from Lucius after what you just endured. But you suppose you’re at the man’s mercy. Both men, really.

“Just do whatever you’re going to.”

This makes Lucius expel a huff of breath from his noise in annoyance. He roughly lifts you up by the arm and yanks you to your feet, your body almost flopping over and knees almost buckling under the sudden weight shift. You’re dragged back to your bed, noting the absent Overseer.

You’re tossed hard on the mattress. Though you try to remain strong, the uncertainty of Lucius’ intentions only bids you to keep shaking. Though, your guardian does not appear to touch you. Instead, he hovers over you at your bedside and looks down upon your weary face with contempt.

“He’s told me what happened. I’m not at all fooled by your attempt at seeming strong,” he says in a crude manner. “I can see that even now you’re frightened. Such fear pokes even through all that exhaustion. But don’t get so giddy about surviving my superior. You merely got lucky, that’s all. He’s allowed you a second chance.”

You don’t bother to fight his words. Instead, you ask,

“Did you want me dead?”

“Does it matter?” Lucius shoots back. “Whether I want it has no impact on whether you deserve it. Is there a reason you felt the need to play the heroine?”

“I only had two choices,” you tell the man pointedly, your voice weary and shaken. “Either face death or cower in fear. Don’t you know what it’s like to be in that situation? Are you so removed from your humanity that you don’t even-”

“Be quiet,” Lucius sharply commands. You obey. “Of course I have. I didn’t just get good at what I do overnight. I had to learn a lot of hard lessons. Ones you couldn’t handle. But you and I are not equal. We don’t have the same opportunities, nor the same rights. You will always be beneath us, and you will always cower like a child.”

He then glowers, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Don’t count on getting lucky again, princess. You’ll always crumble under enough pressure. You only skirted by because you did what Gale said, like an obedient little thing. I heard how desperately you spoke to them. But now they’re gone, so now you’re alone.”

The man does not bother acting coy with you this time. He’s far more bitter, you notice. Though you remain fearful, you do nothing and simply lay in your bed, the side of your head resting on the flimsy pillow. You don’t want to give Lucius a reaction.

You then eye Lucius as his hand moves toward the curtain.

“No chains?” You question him upon realizing your wrists are still tightly cuffed. Lucius pauses and merely looks at you with his dark eyes, his expression ladened with annoyance.

“I’m sure you’d like that,” he remarks. “I don’t much feel like bothering. Not like you’ll be going anywhere. If you even try, I’ll be the one putting a bullet in your head or anywhere else I see fit instead of him.”

He gives you no chances to respond, as he promptly shuts the curtain and leaves you.

While the gunman goes about his business, you try to focus on your breathing. Though your body continues to shake, you try as best to gather your wits.

What exactly happened? The memory feels so distant, it’s hard to focus on it. You were so shaken by the ordeal between your last meeting with Gale and now that trying to recollect it only strains you. Evidently, you want to push the thought out of your head. But maybe it’d be a bad idea.

You should be happy you survived. You should be celebrating. But right now, nothing really stirs in you. You know nothing’s changed.

But you lived. You stared down The Overseer and tried to be what he expected. You played a role in spite of all your fear, all your desire to hide away and cower utterly.

Gale had said you always had that stubbornness, that fight in you. Even your friends, and even some of the other doctors have suggested it before. You never though yourself strong enough to push through like this.

You always intended to fight to the best of your ability, but always were left feeling powerless. Whether beneath the forceful grasp and unwanted touch of a doctor, or through their bitter and biting words of criticism, you have fallen flat on your face after every attempt at being strong. Always, you are brought down to the level you’re expected, made out to be an inferior thing to the doctors.

Even when you do try to fight, even when you are able to keep your mind somewhat sound, your body remains weak. Most every doctor here has physically overpowered you—dragged your body around, slapped you, hit you, pinned you, bitten you, tied you. You’re sure they keep you from gaining too much muscle for a reason.

All that said, you still fail to fathom how you’ve survived most everything that you have thus far. You’ve constantly said you can handle physical pain, and that includes being forced around like a weak little doll. But fear, you’ve always struggled with. Even when you climb up, you hardly felt you were making progress. Only your assurance from your friends led you to believe otherwise.

It’s hard to gauge where you’re at now. Are you weak because you’ve been shivering so much? Crying and babbling? Or are you strong because you’ve made it this far? You’re conflicted, and it’s difficult to really place how you feel about yourself right now after what you just went through. You’re still so shaken by what’s happened in your confinement to this room that you can’t exactly bring yourself to think too positively. But maybe the others would say you’re strong for it. Even Gale suggested that if your strength had gone, that it was slowly returning.

But, now that you’ve gone through the most horrifying part of this ordeal, what’s next? You continue to lie here? Feel sorry for yourself? There’s nothing else you can really do. Like Lucius said, you’re alone now. Nobody is here to comfort you. If more negative emotions should stir, you’ll have to endure and deal with them wholly on your own.

Just as you “got lucky” avoiding death, you think you also got lucky having both Monica and Gale to talk to. But, as you’ve come to learn, luck always eventually runs out. God, the universe, or whatever other force there is in charge of your life certainly has a funny way of working things through. You’re always strung along, and the moment you drop your guard, everything goes wrong.

The best thing you can do is follow Gale’s advice by fighting for yourself, holding on, and trying to cope with and accept things beyond your control. Only when you tossed away the importance of your own life and gave into The Overseer did you really manage to look him in the eye. Even then, is it that you gave up because you no longer wanted to live? Or were you just being strategic? You can’t much place your own intentions anymore, nor who you even are at this point. You don’t feel like you.

Where did the strength to face The Overseer come from? Certainly, you wanted to copy Gale and truly listen to their words, but even they said it was a hard thing to do. It should have taken time. Maybe you were just desperate enough that you rushed it, and perhaps it’s because you did that the attempt was indeed faulty. Then, this obedience, this submission you just exhibited came only out of desperation, not real strength.

You heave a frustrated sigh as you lay in your bed. Maybe you’re overthinking it and should just be thankful you’re alive at all. You should drop it and move on. But…

Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to make sense of things. At the very least, you repeatedly try to remind yourself that you’re alive and that you have a chance to keep going. You have no clue what being spared means for you. All you know now is that it’s critical you not anger The Overseer again.

It’s not really certain if you will return to your friends after this, or if you’ll return with your memory intact. The Overseer seemed so adamant about your obedience, and so something like this might hinder your chances at keeping your memory. It’s enough that The Overseer bothered to let you live. He might not be that kind in anything else, even if you obey him fully from now until your supposed release.

How long have you even been in this place? How long have you been confined? The question continues to eat at you. While you ask it in your head, you again focus your stomach, frustrated at the inability to touch it. Nothing’s seemed drastically different the times you’ve been able to check, thankfully. But if Lucius is at all interested in lording over you even that way, you’ll be forced to deal with that fear of impregnation again soon. You know it’s something you can’t avoid. Lucius wasn’t wrong when he said what he did.

Monica is probably the only person who can help you get through talking about this kind of thing. Nathaniel could probably help, but you’d rather not talk to a man. You hardly trust Monica, but you now accept that she isn’t purposefully cruel. Like Gale, she is far kinder. You at least appreciate the bit of effort both doctors have made, even knowing they’re still despicable people because of the paths they’ve taken willingly.

And Gale…

You’re shocked they took things as well as they did. How long have they been here, and how long have they taken such abuse from their boss for transgressions for them to have reacted so calmly? They seemed to expect and accept the impending pain, even knew how their boss might react to them. How are they so accustomed to being hurt?

You wonder whether their accustomation to pain comes in part from a time before they ever met The Overseer. You can only imagine how miserable it must have been for them to reach a point of acceptance toward this harsh treatment. As it is, you can’t even wholly accept things on your own. It’s always been a struggle. Your recent willingness to die by The Overseer’s hand, in fact, came unexpectedly. Have you sunk that low that you were willing to take death? Or is it something you forced yourself to cope with in the moment? You don’t truly want to die.

What a frustration this is. Maybe it’s a senseless matter you can’t possibly interpret correctly.

As for Gale, they knew they would hurt. They expected the pain, but knew that they’d heal just after. They approached their punishment without fear, unless they were hiding what fear they truly did feel. Part of you wants to think they’re unafraid of anything since they’d learned to juggle their own fears, but you’d believe they still frighten like you. If Gale’s susceptible to shock, then why not fear too?

But of course, Gale’s always been good at hiding their intentions and emotions from people, much like your own doctor. Only through subtle changes in both doctors’ usual expressions and demeanors can you ever tell that things are different in them.

The longer you have to think about Gale’s reaction to this place, the more you start to mull over the idea that they’re equally as much a victim to it as someone like Monica. Even if they’re strong enough to take their punishments in stride, you figure there must have been something that kept them in place.

The only difference between them and Monica, really, is that they know their role and are able to tell themself that they belong here, whereas Monica still yearns to be at that point—a part of things, respected, trusted. Both of the two do seem to enjoy certain perks of this place, sure, but there’s much more to their decisions to stay than there seems. You can hardly speak of Monica, but you’re certain The Overseer does use Gale’s indulgences to keep a hook in them, but you’re equally sure he uses fear too. Gale’s either broken to a point of casual submission and blind following, or they’re truly a sinister person. Perhaps even both.

They’d suggested people are complex. You wanted to fight them on this earlier in your anger at all the things they mentioned doing, but you now admit that’s fairly true. You shouldn’t expect Gale to be cut-and-dried, then, when you yourself aren’t. Just because you’re the victim in all this doesn’t mean you’re any perfect either, does it?

There are many evil people here who have been genuinely kind to you. It’s always left you conflicted, but you always wanted to dismiss those people because of their horrible deeds. Of course you could never forgive them for anything they have chosen to do. They don’t deserve that forgiveness. But, perhaps, you can admit that some of them do bother to care for you, even a little.

Gale’s intentions are selfish, and they are capable of monstrous things. They are beyond selective depending on what intrigues them, but they do try their best to be kind now and then. You’re lucky they bothered to try for you. It would have been easy for Gale to let you be another Jade—someone they let fall just for the sake of watching what happens.

Even then, Gale still intends to watch you. They want to observe what you do with your stubbornness, your will. If you’re still here, if you’re still willing to make comments and think things through, then obviously your will is still a little bit intact. You haven’t entirely broken yet, you don’t think. Then, you shouldn’t see submission to those who control you as giving up.

You hate knowing that they’d make use of you this way, but in this case, your relationship is far less parasitic. You both want you to be strong.

As for the other doctors, Jonathan and Nathaniel have always been gentler with you. Supposedly they’ve been this way even with the other Numbers. They’re still absolutely okay with lording over you and using your body, even by force. But they’ve shown a remarkable sweetness for you that you never expected. Even if those two treat everyone that way, you’re still surprised they do it at all. They certainly don’t need to.

You don’t trust or accept any doctor here, but at least you can somewhat breathe easy around those who don’t treat you like trash. Even your own doctor is capable of being gentler with you. But, of course, that’s only when you behave like the good girl he expects you to be.

Though not wholly remembering your friends’ touch saddens you, you’re extremely glad you don’t wholly remember Yosuke’s either. The unfortunate thing is that while Gale touched you in a way you needed, even indulged your selfish request of hearing loving words, Lucius has tainted the sensation of touch by handling you as he has this entire time.

Were your arms mobile, you’d wind up running your fingers mindlessly over your lips. You never expected the man to force his onto you, but you don’t exactly think that his attempt was purely to fulfil some lustful desire of his. You don’t wholly doubt he just wants to use you to satisfy his own needs that he has no other outlet for than the workers, but you do know full well his attempt was just to frighten and force you into submission. You’re a toy to him, as you are to your doctor. But even Yosuke gives an inkling of a shit about you as a person.

Even if all he wants is to control you, Yosuke is also willing to take care of you. He thinks himself your caretaker, if also your judge. It’s almost embarrassing and despicable for you to admit that Yosuke could be comparably less terrible than someone else, but that’s the case. Even Milos and Lilah are above him on a scale measuring cruelty. You don’t like the idea of defending the man, and of course you’ll never enjoy the things he does to you. But in this case, you’ll admit you’d rather have to deal with him. Maybe it’s sick to admit that you can’t wait to go back, provided you even do. At the very least, you’d get to sleep in a comfortable bed. You won’t enjoy continuing to be Yosuke’s little doll, but you can handle him better.

Your mind comes again back to Gale as you refuse to dwell on your doctor further. Although things between you and the other doctors have always been rough, and although you’ve come to despise them all, you admittedly do hope Gale’s doing okay. They walked off their beating quite easily, even made a joke of all things. But it did sting quite a lot to watch them get hurt. Seeing someone get beaten certainly isn’t as horrible as watching someone die, but it wasn’t at all easier to witness. You’re at least glad they were able to take it. You might have broken down if you were beaten that way, unless it was something you learned to get used to yourself.

You’re grateful for the advice Gale gave, because only by following it did you really survive. At least, you think so. You highly doubt The Overseer spared you out of genuine intrigue as he’d said, nor because he thought you were of some worth. Perhaps he “respected” your attempt to be humble before him. Docile.

What exactly saved you, anyway? Was it the decision not to cry or scream or beg? To look the man in the eye while choking back your fear? Was it the willingness to let him take you? You don’t think such a man as the forgiving type. The Overseer had implied he could be merciful. Is this what he meant?

You really have no clue, but you’re in no position to ask, nor will you ever really find out. For once, you let it go. It’s not easy to do it, but you try to swallow the fact that your knowledge of things that happen in this place, and the motivations of each doctor, will always be lacking.

Swallowing everything that’s occurred, you finally decide to tell yourself that it’s imperative now more than ever that you follow Gale’s advice further and more closely. You won’t have the chance to speak to anyone else now, at least until your confinement is over. How long will The Overseer keep you here? It’s already been so long…

No, you can survive this. You have to. You’d started off so fearful, but Monica and Gale both allowed you a break from this place. Gale’s advice about being less reliant on others wasn’t wrong, and so you want to try working through this on your own now that you have nobody.

You repeat it again in your head: you’re alive. For now, that’s all that matters. You don’t exactly feel like smiling or rejoicing over the fact, but you certainly breathe a sigh of relief now that you’re able. You’re still so weary after just enduring what you did, but you’ve finally made a little peace with the fact that you’re still going.

Lucius does not once bother you behind the curtain, nor does The Overseer return from wherever it is he’s gone. Only when it’s mealtime does the dark-haired gunman finally care to check on you. And only when he refuses to feed you himself does he again chain your wrists and remove your cuff to allow you the movement necessary for you to feed yourself.

For the first time in a while, excluding your previous meal, you dine without a second thought. The warmth, the savory, rich flavor, and the inviting, light aroma of the food all are deeply appreciated after your brush with The Overseer. You won’t say your appetite is wholly back, but that you are able to eat at all without it being so much of a struggle as it has been is immensely satisfying. No doubt you might not enjoy this for long if Lucius tries anything, or if The Overseer gets aggressive with you again. Nonetheless, you enjoy yourself just for now, while silently wondering how Charlie’s faring the more of his food you swallow.

Lucius merely watches you with little interest in his dark eye. He doesn’t much glance up for long, though. As he sits by your bed, he continues to work on some file. You think he’s sifting through some kind of numerical data, but you can’t much tell. Even if you could, it’d hardly mean anything to you.

His frustrated reactions strike you as odd after he seemed so adamant on torturing you. His coy, cold smile is no longer present. You figure he doesn’t like that you persevered even if it was just by chance. He hasn’t explicitly said whether or not he wants you dead, and you can’t entirely guess whether he does.

On one hand, Lucius relishes in being a sadistic asshole toward you just because he can. On the other, he is equally willing to let you go entirely and let you suffer or die just for misbehaving. The Overseer’s distaste for and disinterest of you is far greater, of course, but Lucius never struck you as someone who couldn’t let go of things that hardly mattered to him. He had no problem killing Jay and C1. Why wouldn’t he just kill you if you’re such a frustration? He’s made plenty of threats.

You say this in your head as if you really want to die, but of course you don’t. It merely baffles you. Nonetheless, the perception you have of the man is furiously negative. You hate him just as much as you hate his boss. What makes this frustrating is that The Overseer ignores you like you’re an object of little concern to him, until you are no longer an avoidable obstacle. Lucius, meanwhile, insists on tormenting you because of no other reason than that you’re in a position beneath him. He’s not much unlike the other doctors, wanting to take charge of another living thing in the worst possible way. He is a predator, and you’re his prey.

It’s bad enough that the man is a murderer. The fact that he’s probably willing to fuck you, something that is now abundantly clear after what the made you do and how he hovered over you, only makes it worse. You’re sure he’ll try it at least once. Your only uncertainty is when.

There are a few qualities about him that remind you of Yosuke—his tendency toward trickery, his gross attachment to watching you squirm, his eagerness to use you. You wish you could say that at least Yosuke never threatened to kill you, but before his attachment for you grew, he did imply it. Maybe he didn’t explicitly say he would, but he’d made it clear your life would be in danger if you fought back too much.

Yosuke was a bit different back then. You never really expected he’d get so attached that he’d act out the way he did. Not once when you first met the man did you guess things would go this way, nor that he’d act so much like Mom.

Perhaps you are to him what Cyrus is to Mom. And, quite like Cyrus, you grew used to your doctor’s treatment of you while hating it all the same. You can’t exactly say you’ll be glad to go back to it, but at least he won’t hurt you anywhere near as much as the men in this room have. If his affection for you is unshaken, then he will continue to treat you like his cherished pet, should you return.

It’s expected, yet surprising how some of the doctors do have their own attachments. Different styles of it, really. You can hardly speak of Mom’s obsession with her own Number, or of Gale’s supposed “love” of Six, but it makes sense to you that they would have any attachment. Even Nathaniel and Jonathan apparently do care about their own Numbers. Granted, you can hardly even make heads or tails of your own doctor sometimes, so analyzing the others wouldn’t really do much to help you figure out what you don’t already know.

You can understand the contempt the other Numbers have for their doctors all the same, regardless of how crazy or cruel they are or aren’t. Even the tame ones are at fault and responsible in part for the miseries this facility brings its prisoners. If only the kinder doctors had chosen different paths. Perhaps you might have come to like them in another life.

“Are you going to finish?”

Lucius’ sudden voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and only when you come back to reality do you realize you’d dropped your fork mindlessly to your plate and stopped eating. You give a quick side glance to the man, noting his displeased expression. Not wanting to rile him up, you pick up where you left off and try to finish your food.

The longer you sit in silence, the more your mind runs about Lucius’ involvement in what happened. Curiously, you ask him,

“Why did you keep your word?”

“Hm?” The man doesn’t bother to look up and instead flips a page over. You can’t really believe you’re able to talk to him normally like this even after all the things he’s done. Granted, you’ve been put through quite a lot here. You expect the awful by now, though It still frightens you.

“Why didn’t you tell your boss about the recordings?” You ask more straightforwardly between bites of food. “If you really wanted me dead, then you could have just shown them to him. He would have killed me for sure. Not given me any chances at all. But he didn’t seem to know about the things I knew.”

“It’s hardly your business,” Is Lucius’ stern response. “I do as I please. As does he. Do you mean to imply that you’re ungrateful for the chance at life?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you bitterly respond.

“Then you should be thanking me for keeping my word. You have always expressed a desire to live every time I’ve had to take you away. I allowed you the privilege.”

“Living isn’t a privilege.”

“Are you going to say it’s a right? As if you have any here?” Lucius criticizes you. “Shall I kill you now, then, to make my point? That seems to be the only way you’ll listen. Is that what you’d like?”

Your heart beats a bit faster at his question, but you try to assure yourself the threat is merely hypothetical.

“No,” you tell him quietly, though avoid looking the man in the eye again. Lucius merely sits quietly for a while. But, to your dismay, he does stand and drop his papers in his chair. Without a word, he unholsters his gun, but he doesn’t aim it at you. He keeps it calmly by his side, though grips it with a firm hand. You can do no more than eye the thing fearfully, your hands now beginning to shake again as you grip your fork.

Please no…Not again…!

As you sit there shaking, you silently beg for the man to not do this to you just after what you faced. He must be bluffing. Teasing. Right? That has to be it.

Lucius watches your trembling state and tilts his head.

“Stab yourself in the leg,” he commands after a moment of assessing you.

“What…?!” You squeak, dropping your fork entirely. Lucius frowns.

“You heard me, princess. I want you to stab yourself in the leg. Your fork should be solid enough to pierce the flesh. Of course I’ll be lenient and not force you to go too deep.”

“Why do you-“

You are given no chance to finish your question before Lucius cocks his pistol and points it at you. Your heart jumps then, and you recoil from the thing with wide eyes.

Lucius then finally smiles. “If you want to live, do as I ask. I’m being far more lenient than he was, you know. He fully intended to shoot. I, however, can be much more easily convinced. The task I’ve given you is quite simple, after all. A child could do it.”

Your gaze on the silver pistol does not shake. The sudden threat has taken you completely by surprise, and you are unable to focus on anything else but Lucius and his weapon.

This has to be a trick. This has to be…!

Desperately, you try to convince yourself that Lucius is just playing games with you. He can act as freely as he likes, but his boss just barely decided to spare you. Would he allow this?

Even so, you aren’t sure what else to do but listen to Lucius’ order. You could try staring the man down all you like, but while The Overseer expects obedience and docility, those aren’t precisely what Lucius wants. You’re not sure what will please him.

Not knowing what else to do, and wanting only to stay alive, you again reach for the fork that’s slipped in your lap by now. Your trembling fingers quietly curl around its handle, and your eyes flicker down at the pointed end of the utensil with nervousness.

Would it be seen as prideful or pathetic if you did this? You can’t decide. But you can’t waste time either.

Taking a deep breath, you raise the fork up and shakily prepare to carry out what was ordered of you. There’s a hesitation in your arm, though. Despite knowing you have to, your shaking limb refuses to go down. The chain hangs from your shackle, the light from the screens on the other end of the room pouring through each link’s center.

Your breathing broadens and deepens as you try to concentrate, but each draw is fairly shaky. Lucius continues to watch you curiously in the meantime, still with his pistol aimed and his finger firmly on the trigger.

It’s just a bit of pain, you try reminding yourself, attempting to urge your body to move all the while. It’s nothing.

After fighting against your own physical hesitance, you finally manage to act. But before you can do as Lucius asked, he grabs your wrist with his free hand and grips it tightly, stopping you.

You instinctively drop the fork and look on at the man with frightful eyes. He watches you with a smile, his gun arm dropping back to his side. The man releases you once you realize he’s not intending to shoot you. Though he was calm, he now gives out a loud, amused laugh.

“You really are desperate,” he teases. “I had no intention of really shooting you.”

“How am I supposed to know that?!” You cry back, your heart still pounding even now that the danger has passed. Lucius flicks something on his gun before reholstering it again. His amused expression does not falter.

“You don’t,” he tells you. “All you can do is submit to preserve your own life. But my point is proven—you’re still a weak thing. Don’t think yourself so strong just because you survived my boss.”

He then glances down at the tray in your lap and frowns.

“Now, I suppose you’re done eating, so I’ll be getting back to my duties. Think on this if you like. You’ve more than enough time.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything and merely plucks everything away from you. Before he can leave, you finally bring yourself to ask him,

“Lucius, why are you treating me this way?”

The man leaves your tray upon the corner of the flat edge of the console’s panel and turns his head.

“Mm? I treat you no different than others, do I?”

“If you’re going to kill me, or if you want me dead, then-“

Lucius frowns and interrupts you sharply. “Don’t try to say I should kill you and be done with it as if you didn’t just cower before me a moment ago over a simple order.”

He then walks back toward your bed and places his hand upon the curtain. “My superior left you alive for a reason, so I’ll not betray him in that until he shows no interest in letting you live again.”

“So you don’t know why he let me live?”

“Presumptuous thing,” Lucius responds bitterly. “I would say you amused him, but I know better. As I’ve said prior, he doesn’t like ‘amusing’. He has his reasons. It’s of no concern to you. Merely be thankful for the opportunity, and continue to submit to him as he expects.”

“And what do you expect, huh?” You question the man then, your fists balling. “What is it you want from me? From any one of us you’re holding prisoner? Just to see us suffer?”

Lucius raises a dark brow. “Is that not obvious? Stupid girl. You’ve asked this kind of thing before. I do what I do because I can, and because it amuses me to do so. I’ve said before your suffering amuses me. Besides, I don’t often get to do this sort of thing with prisoners who aren’t workers.”

He glowers.

“In any case, you’re no Gale. You won’t read me so easily, so I suggest you stop trying before you make me mad. Be happy that all I do is tease you.”

“Hurting me the way you do hardly counts as teasing,” you remark in anger. Lucius then laughs aloud.

“Oh, but I could do so much worse.”

The man extends his other hand and places a firm hand atop your head, his fingers digging and curling roughly against your hair and scalp there. He doesn’t quite tug at you, but rather gives your head a subtle little shake, much to your displeasure. The sensation only vividly reminds you of what just transpired. The skin of your scalp is still a tinge sore from being pulled so roughly by your hair.

Regardless, you don’t bother to lift your hands up to try prying him away, knowing the moment will pass soon. You remain sitting there, shivering slightly and looking down at the mattress before you while you await the man to finish up here.

“Now don’t push it, princess,” you’re firmly told. “Stop pretending you’re tough just because I allow you to bark back at me whereas he does not. Push my buttons further, and I’ll gladly show you just how ‘tough’ you really are.”

The man holding you promptly releases your head and leaves you behind the curtain once more.

Another passage of time occurs, and all you do is lay on your side, facing the wall. More thoughts about your place here run through and through your mind as you attempt to put aside the ordeal with Lucius. As always, you grow frustrated not knowing for certain what will happen. You continue to remind yourself of the one positive thing you have right now as you had earlier—you’re alive. This only helps so much, but it’s enough for now.

If you do return to the others, you aren’t really sure what to tell them about where you’ve been. Doubtless they’ll ask. Though, this depends on whether your memory will remain intact. If it does, it might be difficult facing them again with the knowledge you have now. You know certainly that they’ll all become workers or die off slowly even if they don’t do anything to prematurely get themselves killed.

It seems that since the last group, deaths have been far less common. Your friends are utterly lucky they’ve evaded death thus far. But, unfortunately, you couldn’t really tell them that. They seem happy so long as they’re with one another. They’re content not being too curious because they know better, or because they’re afraid.

Admittedly, you are a little more like Lav when it comes to being pushy and observant, though certainly not as smart about it as her. You have asked far too many questions, far more than you used to. Maybe you got the tendency from her to begin with, after spending the time with the girl that you had. Pushiness isn’t exactly the best of traits in a place like this, but you think it has its merits, just as much as it has its drawbacks.

Thinking of Lav takes a little bit of the edge off, at least. You miss having your talks with her, miss laying in her lap and laughing with her. You so dearly wish to be held by her again.

Your eyes close then, as your mind drifts away from all the unpleasantries you’ve faced. You want only to think of the others now that things have calmed down. You’re glad they’re okay. Gale didn’t have to tell you a thing, yet they allowed you to know. You’re grateful for that.

How will the Numbers react to your reappearance, you wonder? Will they be happy? Or will they be hesitant? As it is, if you do keep your memory, you’ll more than likely have to play dumb with them. It isn’t exactly difficult, but they’re not stupid. At the very least, Cyrus, Lav, and Eight will catch onto your façade quickly. You trust Eight to remain respectfully silent knowing what prying can cause, but Lav and Cyrus have always worried so much over you that they can’t help but want to make sure things are okay and that you’re open with them. Either way, they’d all probably be proud of you for getting through this horrible place, and through your confinement.

Nobody seems to know you’re alive other than Lilah, Monica, and Gale. Though, you wonder whether Gale is certain that you’re still alive after they had to leave you. They’d said it was a toss-up, so even they thought you had a chance of dying. Maybe they’ll be pleasantly surprised to see you around if and when you return. You doubt they’ll be permitted back in this room for a while. There’s no way a beating was enough punishment. Just as The Overseer has crafted his punishments of Mom specifically for her, you’re certain that he’s done the same for Gale, and perhaps anyone else.

Mom’s interest in her appearance and her functionality in sexual acts are always affected, as evidenced by the marring of her face and hands. Gale’s personal fascinations are likely going to be rendered inaccessible, and as it is, Yosuke has lost you. It makes sense, but such tailor-made punishments strangely aren’t as effective for someone like Mom. You figure it’s because she’s been here so long that he doesn’t punish her even more harshly. Perhaps he feels some attachment that he won’t admit. You’d imagine having Cyrus taken from Mom would genuinely shatter the woman. Though, you aren’t sure it would affect her quite precisely like it seems to be affecting Yosuke.

In fact, you’ve no clue what’s been up with him since you were taken away, other than that he’s been distant and that he does miss you. You wonder how the reunion between you two will go if you return. If you remember him, it’ll make things difficult and awkward, but at least you’ll know what to expect. If you don’t remember him…

You imagine the man would be equally as “affectionate”. Though, with a clean slate doll, he could manipulate you even worse than before. He knows a lot about you now. Much more than you care to admit. He could easily manipulate an innocent version of you into loving him. It wouldn’t be as arduous a task as before.

Granted, all this would depend on whether you’re still the same old you if your memory is wiped. Sienna supposedly returned with a rather different personality, after all. You can’t say whether she was emotionally broken in her time before returning, or if the change was indeed the drug’s fault. Either way, the idea of having your memory altered again only worries you.

You’ve learned a lot. It’d be hard to try building yourself back up after making so much progress. Even if you’ve severely regressed while here, the damage could be reversible. It’s just something you have to try working toward, right?

But without your family…

Gale had said you have to try being less dependent, but you have no idea what you could possibly do on your own. The only thing that really has popped up in your mind while here is doing what you were taught by both Lav and Cyrus, but you aren’t sure how to go about it when you feel the way you do.

You stared death in the face, though. You felt afraid while doing it, but you held together quite well all things considered. So…maybe you can try?

At this point, you’re really not ready for meditation, though you sorely need something like it. Cyrus had said it’s sometimes harmful to do it at a low point, and you wouldn’t exactly say you’re at your best now. Concentrating isn’t easy.

Your only other option for the moment is touching your own body. Granted, both things you were taught are ways of taking your body back for yourself. But masturbation is something you feel is more about the body and physical ownership, whereas meditation feels more likened to the soul. You could use a little of both right now. Your body hasn’t really been your own since you arrived here, and your will has nearly shattered. If not for Monica’s and Gale’s help and affection, maybe you’d have been lost by now. You’d hate to say it was only those two who saved you, though you won’t deny their contribution and do silently thank them for it.

You longed for touch when Gale was here, now that you think about it more. Even now, you want that kinder touch. The men have touched you, only roughly and with the intent of controlling you. The other doctors’ use of your body has been much the same, but far more sexually driven.

You decide to at least give Lav’s way a try. Before, it had hurt to touch yourself since you’d tried it far too soon after what happened with the worker. When you did it the second time, you merely couldn’t feel pleasure. You’re not exactly sure you even will this time, but maybe since your appetite has slightly returned, then so too has your capacity for arousal. Even a little.

You put it to the test and slowly move your hand down your body, removing it from beside your flimsy pillow. You keep a careful ear out, making sure your shifting doesn’t make all too much noise, The chains do gently clink together as your hand moves, but there’s no real indication that Lucius is bothered by the noise, nor that he really even heard it. Should he hear you or peel the curtain back at this moment, you fear what he might do. At the very least, he’d make a comment. And at worst, well…

Quietly, you press your finger against your clit and slowly circle the thing. You physically feel the motion of your finger’s pad gently against your body, but it doesn’t much incite anything grand. There’s a small sensation, a spark in your body, but it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy you. Though, that you felt anything at all is, you suppose, some kind of progress.

You want to keep going, but the moment you hear the room door open, your hand retracts. It’d be bad enough to be caught by Lucius, but you outright refuse to be caught doing this by The Overseer, who, judging by the impatient footsteps into the room, is the one that’s arrived. You can’t imagine he’d be particularly happy at you messing around in the bed he supposedly sleeps in whenever he actually has the opportunity. Even if it’s cleaned, he apparently cares for principle as much as practice.

You hear The Overseer mentioning needing to accompany Lucius for something important, a bitter tone to his voice for reasons you don’t know. Unfortunately, his words are vague, so you can’t make heads or tails of what he means.

Suddenly, the curtain is pulled back. The sharp dragging metal noise makes you jump since you hadn’t much noticed anyone stepping near your bed. When your head turns, you’re faced with The Overseer rather than Lucius. This would be a relief, but after your ordeal recently, the sight of him only makes your heart as jumpy as your body.

The blond man gazes down upon you without expression, but even his look is enough to leave you nervous. You can’t gauge what he’s thinking or what he really wants, and it’s only when your eyes flicker down to a rather large syringe in his hand do you have an idea.

He only means to put you out, a revelation which comes as an enormous relief. Judging by the size of the syringe which sits thickly between The Overseer’s index and middle finger, the man means to put you out for a good while. You’re going to have to play your sleeping role carefully and for an extended time, then.

You eye the man forwardly, attempting to keep your respectful look about him and not cower before him like you instinctively want to. You can’t mess up with him now, even in small ways. That you’re able to maintain this contact at all displays a remarkable will, you think. You want direly to look away.

Without needing an order, without a single word of exchange, you turn your head to allow The Overseer direct access to the injection site. He does not immediately move, rather assesses you a moment while you obey his silent intention.

Despite the quiet lingering, he does eventually do as you expect. You suppose he was trying to figure something out, watching you like that. You can’t really know his intentions or his thoughts. Nobody but Lucius really can, apparently.

You’re promptly stuck with the needle. The sensation of so much fluid being pumped into your veins sits uneasily with you. It’s been a while since you got this much. You start to wonder whether the placebo can have a negative effect on the body if too much of it is administered. You wouldn’t imagine they’d make it genuinely dangerous, but you have no idea what might actually be in it.

The Overseer gives no word of minimal praise, nor does he linger upon you after the injection. His hand promptly retracts from your neck instead. Before you can be abandoned behind the curtain, you glimpse Lucius by one of the cabinets, opening a metal box within that you once presumed to be a safe. Once its door is swung out, you see smaller boxes within that you aren’t sure what they contain. Anything else inside the thing is construed by the boxes, so you can’t much make everything out.

You’re given nothing else to look at, as the curtain again shuts you away. Neither man says much to each other after this, other than lightly discussing preparations for something upstairs.

The men leave you alone after a brief moment of lingering, and you do nothing much other than lie around. You’re hardly tired now, so you can’t much force yourself to sleep. Attempting to masturbate, which you try quite quickly now that you’re completely alone, doesn’t go as well as you want it to, either. You toy with yourself as much as possible, but can’t bring yourself to come like you want, only strung along with rising pleasure that goes nowhere. This only leaves you frustrated, and so you give up the endeavor and instead turn over to stare at the curtain.

The silence of the room is only occasionally broken by your chains clinking together when you shuffle slightly about. Strangely, such silence is unbearable this time. You thought it might bring you some peace of mind, but all it does is force you to think more, and certainly more clearly. There’s nothing here to distract you.

You’re tired of thinking. Your thoughts, even when positive, do eventually turn to the negatives of your confinement. Even so, you’re trying your best. It’s all you can do.

This only reminds you of when you’d said the same thing through tears with Monica. Your heart weighs heavy as you vividly recall the state you were in then. You can’t say you’re doing phenomenally better than you were at that point, but you suppose you’ve made a little progress since then.

Do Gale and Monica interact much, you wonder? Does Monica and anyone else know what it is Gale does? Moreover, you can’t help but wonder if anyone will ask questions about Gale’s face now that it’s more than likely quite bruised and damaged after their beating. Remembering the sight of The Overseer punching the doctor relentlessly again makes you uneasy.

As ever, you remain uncertain as to how long you’re left laying alone. You tire waiting around so long, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You can’t even bring yourself to sleep on your own, even when you direly want the rest.

Unfortunately, you wind up forgetting to turn back toward the other wall. It’s only when you eventually hear the door of the room’s entrance again open that your heart jumps, and you realize your mistake. It’s much easier to pretend you’re asleep facing that way.

Your eyes widen, and your body freezes up. You don’t dare to move a muscle now. You’re stuck facing the curtain, watching the shadows of both The Overseer and Lucius passing by as they come further into the room. That they have continued not to know Gale has switched out the bottle of anesthetic still baffles you, but it’ll surely be your head as much as theirs if you don’t try to hide it.

Maybe you’re burying yourself deeper by trying to be so secretive. If you’re honest, won’t you be at least let off easy?

Not like you have the chance now. You should have said something earlier. The Overseer could easily become upset by your lack of forwardness about the issue. He might, he might not. But you’ve missed your mark to make a move. All you can do is lay there and be attentive. It’s possible neither man will bother checking on you, anyway. They usually don’t without reason.

“Stupid brat,” The Overseer mutters bitterly. His figure shuffles about, his shadow reaching toward his chest. You hear the sounds of buttons popping open as the man removes his vest. “If I’d known this was going to be that much trouble, I’d have forced Milos to go with you regardless.”

Lucius’ shadow takes his boss’ clothes and puts them aside on the chair near the console.

“Would he have gone? It’s been a long while since we’ve needed him,” he says casually as his superior continues to unveil his upper body. “He hasn’t much paid attention to these affairs like he used to. Though it was nice to get out. I haven’t lately.”

While The Overseer tugs down his sleeves and unbuttons his white undershirt, his partner moves to one of the cabinets. By the light glass rapping, you presume it’s the medicine cabinet that he’s shuffling through.

“I had told him to be ready just in case,” The Overseer continues to grumble over his coworker, ignoring Lucius’ remark. He practically spits his words out. His shadow takes a seat by the console, and you watch as the man leans against his spread knees. “I have no idea what the hell he thinks he’s doing.”

“Did you tell him why he needed to be on his toes, or did you make him assume?”

The Overseer scoffs. “He should know. It may have been a while, but he knows our procedure for these things. It shouldn’t be difficult to listen to an order.”

He then sucks air through his teeth as Lucius dabs something on his back.

“Well, It’s done either way.” The gunman reminds his superior. “Do you regret going with me?”

“Of course not.”

You presume by the motions Lucius is making on The Overseer that he’s dabbing peroxide or something similar on the man, likely tending to wounds on his back. Were both of them out doing something dangerous? By the way The Overseer’s speaking, it sounds like they were fighting with someone particular. Someone younger, if “brat” is any indication. You wonder if they were attempting to kidnap someone.

Did they succeed? The Overseer’s been injured. Evidently there was a scuffle, but you have no indication of whether they did manage to capture anyone. The man’s disgruntlement could be from a variety of things.

The room goes quiet a moment as Lucius tends to his boss’ wounds. Though, he eventually speaks up.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t take the hit,” he gives a quiet, gentle apology. “I didn’t think he’d ignore me.”

“I can handle myself, Lucius,” The Overseer says between restrained grunts of pain as his back is tended to. “I’m not a child. Not anymore.”

“Oh? Then shall I let you take care of this?”

The Overseer then, of all things, lets out a single, subtle breath of laughter. “Stubborn oaf. Do as you please, then.”

You never thought a man like that was naturally capable of laughter. Even if it was a subtle and weak kind of amused laugh, It made The Overseer sound far different than the way you’ve come to know him. It’s absolutely strange.

“They don’t seem like deep cuts. You should be alright,” Lucius remarks after a while of his tending. “At least they’re clean now.”

“…Thank you.”

The Overseer promptly rises from his chair and rolls one of his shoulders around. Lucius cleans things up, returning whatever he used to the cabinet and discarding all else in the nearby trash bin.

“You should clean off if you still have to go out,” he suggests to his superior. “You look messy.”

“As though it matters. I have no intention of going back up today,” is the reply he’s given. The Overseer moves to his other cabinet and shuffles through it for fresh clothes. You can hear the light clinking and dragging of hangers. “But I suppose I should since I still have work to do here. Let Micah take care of the boy for now. I’ll tend to other things until I get a full analysis. Do mention to Vanessa that I want her helping him this time. I need this to go along faster.”

“Right,” Lucius responds obediently. “You going to have a word with Milos?”

“When he’s sobered up, I may mention it,” bitterly mutters the boss. “Drunkard. But I suppose you’re right that there’s hardly a point in griping over it now. I’ll certainly raise hell with him if this one fails to be of significant use. What a waste of my time this will have been.”

“This one”? Does he mean the person he brought here? By now, you’re completely certain both men have succeeded in a kidnapping. Whether their victim is going to be part of your group, the letters, a worker, or whoever the “selects” are, you aren’t sure. Nonetheless, your heart pounds relentlessly as you listen in on this conversation.

“I’d better get a good word of thanks for helping to bring him in personally,” The Overseer continues to grumble. “I don’t like it when they fight.”

“I find it refreshing,” Lucius responds with a casual tone.

“Hm…He used to say the same,” The Overseer remarks thoughtfully. He then continues to gripe about Milos’ disloyalty. “Perhaps I should have hired someone to help you. I should have known better. He’s been no help to either of us in that regard for quite some time. I only thought you could use some aid for this.”

“Well now, are you worried about me?” Lucius cheekily teases. “I’ve had no problems handling these on my own. You didn’t even have to come with me to begin with. Though…I’m glad you did.”

His last words seem much more genuine. The Overseer merely scoffs.

“Make fun of me all you like. I only wanted him with you knowing the boy would be annoying to deal with. You know his type.”

Lucius shrugs this off. “It’s always been easier to bring weaklings. I haven’t much dealt with his ‘type’ in a while. I certainly hope your shots are up to date. I think that knife was rusty.”

“You’re hardly a comedian.”

You don’t know what to make of all this. Is Milos also a gunman? Or rather, was he once? You’d be willing to believe that, but you’ve never seen the man with a weapon. Granted, he’s such a massive person that he could probably snap someone’s arm in two without an issue. And, consequently, he could mend it right back up if he so wanted.

A surgeon and a brute force hitman…what a horrifying combination if this is the case. You have no way of knowing whether this is accurate, but you suspect it could be. You’d say this is why you hardly see him around, but the men seem to have implied Milos hasn’t really been doing the same work as Lucius for a while, though once did. The dark-haired gunman has been primarily on his own, then. For how long, you don’t know.

Nonetheless, you’d believe the two were once so intertwined if Milos has been here for a long while. If they did used to have stronger prisoners here, then you’d imagine having extra help would be necessary, especially if the people they hunted fought back like this boy apparently did. But if Milos is, or at least once was indeed that close to both men, why isn’t he as important to The Overseer as Lucius is? It’s odd. You can’t tell what relationship your two frightening keepers really have. It’s definitely one imbued with a long-term familiarity. That much you can gather.

Milos may not be as close to his boss now, but perhaps he once was, like Lilah. You can’t fathom what role he’s played in this place. Whatever it is, perhaps it’s no longer his role. Now, he’s just a drunk surgeon. His importance has likely diminished with time.

You also wonder—have the pair brought a boy or a young man? They’re speaking of him as if he’s younger because they’re evidently much older. Hopefully, it is indeed someone like you and your friends. You don’t think you could handle hearing that it really was a much younger person, especially a child. You’re not even really sure there are children here, but you don’t want to even picture it. You merely try to tell yourself that it’s just wordplay of some kind. They must mean someone a little older. Besides, you aren’t sure a child could put up that much of a fight against a man like The Overseer, nor against a man like Lucius.

You watch as The Overseer heads towards his bathroom, with Lucius following holding something small in his hands that you aren’t sure what it is. In the brief moment you have alone to yourself, you quickly try to turn toward the wall. If they pull back the curtain this way, then perhaps you’ll better be able to fool the men into thinking you’re asleep.

The muffled sounds of running water again are heard, the noise somewhat shaking you after what The Overseer did. You quietly bring a hand to your chest and feel it tighten instinctively. Even now, the flesh there still feels raw and sore after being stepped on so roughly by the frightening man.

You then subtly flinch when you hear the bathroom door again open. Lucius’ slower footsteps sound as he exits, and he sits back at the desk to continue working on something while his boss cleans off. For now, you think you’re okay, and you slowly and carefully bring your hand back by your head. Unfortunately, you’re forced to stay as absolutely still as you can while things carry on.

How long were you waiting here already? A few hours, perhaps? The “dose” you’d been given was fairly large, so you imagine it was meant to last a good while, but certainly not for a whole day. If the men went to the surface and had a scuffle with the boy they kidnapped, you’d imagine they did take a good while. Unless, of course, they go quite quickly with this sort of thing since they’ve done it plenty of times.

You hope that whoever it is they brought here doesn’t lose his fighting spirit after his memory is wiped. God knows you did, if ever you were strong that way.

Why he’s being kept with Micah baffles you. What on earth do he and Mom do? You can’t even really picture Micah as a genuine doctor. With the way he fronts himself, he doesn’t much match the demeanor of most doctors here. You simply can’t see him doing any kind of medical work. The only time he ever really acted like what he was came after you’d witnessed Jay’s death, when you kept vomiting up in sickness at the unpleasant memory. Even then, all Micah really did was tend to you.

How odd that you’ve come far enough to where death doesn’t affect you quite like that anymore. You still frighten easily, but it’s becoming easier to swallow that people die here. You suppose after witnessing two deaths, you’re starting to get the picture.

Does Cyrus feel this way too? He’s the only other person you know, excluding the doctors, who is accustomed to the sight of death. It’s not like he’s numb to the concept. He still worries and frightens. His heart is still large enough to be affected by loss. But perhaps it’s easy for him to accept that things aren’t permanent while still having a reaction to the awful. You never thought you’d end up having so much in common with him. Certainly not in the worst way possible.

Your attention shifts then when you hear The Overseer later emerge from the bathroom. Neither man in the room much exchanges words for a while after this, with both tending to their own separate affairs. You hear quite a lot of his shuffling as The Overseer gets himself ready to head out again. Only a while into this does Lucius really bother to speak up.

“Boss?” He calls out, arousing his superior’s attention. The man merely makes a sharp “hm?” noise in response. Lucius’ chair is heard turning promptly after.

“You want to take a bit of time?” He asks politely. “Before you go off again? We’re ahead of schedule today, all things considered.”

“I don’t know, Lucius,” The Overseer responds in the midst of his adjusting something on his body. “I’m not precisely in a relaxing mood.”

“You could use a quick break, no?” His partner questions with a subtle chuckle. “Come, now. You said ‘later’, and so it is. Just one won’t hurt, besides. It might actually help the pain. You had some nasty cuts back there.”

The Overseer does not immediately respond, and the room goes silent a moment. You then hear the sound of one of the cabinets opening, and a drawer sliding open.

“Just one,” he indulges Lucius’ insistence. You hear the swishing of liquid inside of a glass bottle, and the clinking of a few glasses. “I would indeed like to alleviate this stinging in my flesh. But do check and make sure the girl is still out first. I can’t exactly rest easy without the certainty.”

Your heart continues to race further upon hearing these words. The moment you hear Lucius rise from his place, your eyes shut, and you tense up in an attempt to stay as still as possible. The curtain predictably slides over, and Lucius assesses your body from behind you. There’s a quiet that falls upon the room again while he does this. Your head and heart pound as you try to keep calm and feign a sleeping state.

Though Lucius’ quiet observance of you lasts only a few seconds, it feels far longer. But you do soon hear him draw the curtain again and walk away. Even though you want to breathe a sigh of relief at his retreat, you remain tense and alert.

“Seems so,” Lucius finally remarks. He then takes his place by the desk again and softly laughs. “When’s the last time you cracked that open, anyway?”

He sounds quite jovial now that his boss has indulged his request to drink with him. He’s always pined for the man, you notice. Hovered over him at times, even. You hear quite clearly how differently he speaks with the man. The Overseer is the only thing in the world you think Lucius gives even an inkling of care for.

Hearing more glass clinking and the distinct pouring of liquid into it only leaves you queasy. You’ve never much liked alcohol, especially not after Milos and your doctor did what they did. Perhaps you could have accepted the idea of drinking naturally if you hadn’t been brought to this terrible facility.

The Overseer sighs and sits down in the other chair by the console.

“I suppose it has been some time,” he admits then. “But I certainly hope you don’t intend to tell me to stop and smell the roses more. It’s enough that I’m told the same by people who neglect to consider the responsibilities I have.”

“The others are lucky they lived much more loosely,” Remarks Lucius as he sips from his own glass. “Getting to work in clinics, lead normal lives. Don’t you wonder how things might have been had we done the same?”

“Things don’t always work out like you expect. But I’ve always said I won’t let myself be overcome with regret. There’s no reason to. I’ll make do.”

The Overseer pauses his chatter to drink from his glass, then asks,

“And you? Do you regret following me?”

“No,” Lucius tries to be assuring. “I’m happy to. Truly. I’ll see this through.”

“Even knowing what consequences lie ahead? You could have left at any time without issue. Even now, you could. I won’t force you to take the fall for anything.”

“I know.” Lucius answers honestly, his voice a bit low. He then gives a bit of a laugh. “But come now, you act as if you don’t know me so well. I’m not just going to abandon you. I never have.”

The Overseer gives a low, muttering scoff as he takes another light sip from his glass. “I do indeed know how you can be. Though I’d have gone mad managing this all if not for you. I’m grateful for your assistance. If only I weren’t constantly dealing with associates I have but to liken to children running amok.”

“You’re still angry about what happened?”

“I’ve gotten it somewhat out of my system,” The Overseer remarks plainly. “How brave for Gale to assume I’ll allow further observation while the girl is here.”

“Out of your system, but not out completely, with how often your attention has to be tossed around. I presume your focus is on Milos now, then?”

“As I said, I’ll have a word with him later. Though, try to get that man to do anything when he’s in his stubborn moods. Even in his age he acts like an aloof young man. I certainly can’t stop him. I suppose it makes sense he and Lilah were close when they were.”

“I hardly blame him for wanting to be that way after living the life he has,” Lucius comments as he leans back in his chair. The thing slightly creaks as he does. “I overheard him mention his father again recently. The man does come up often in his drinking spells.”

“A difficult man, I’ve heard. But a working man nonetheless,” is the dry response his boss gives. “Were I so willing to be as careless with my consumption as he, perhaps I could indulge his complaints. I know well the difficulty of fathers.”

Lucius gives a light chortle. “Ah? Family is quite odd that way.”

The Overseer’s tone sours as he responds. “I’ve had quite enough of family. I care little of drama or blood ties. Yet pieces of it always find me. Perhaps it’s my curse.”

“You could easily consider this lot a family if you so prefer to abandon your own,” Lucius notes after taking another drink. “It’s certainly a dysfunctional one, but we’re a collective nonetheless, no?”

You scowl at Lucius’ words. This isn’t a family of any kind. Your own, full of people who love one another—that’s a family. This is a circus.

“They’re hardly any better,” the boss spits out. For once, you agree. “Let’s drop this, now. You know how I feel about it.”

Lucius casually swishes around the liquor in his glass. “Mm. I know a lot about you.”

“Count yourself lucky, then. I tire of the others gossiping and prying to no avail about who I am. Only one’s come so close. I suppose I can respect it.”

“Is that why you let them off so easy?” Lucius questions curiously.

“Pardon?”

“I think you were too lenient,” Lucius tells his superior. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds in speaking my mind, but you were much too coddling. Especially to the girl.”

“Is that what you call it?” The Overseer asks dryly. “You know my business with Gale. They’re at least aware that they should be grateful for my continued mercy. Their service is in turn has been necessary. But don’t think I’ve gone soft, Lucius. You know my intentions.”

“I do and I don’t, sir,” Lucius gives a breathy laugh. “Like I said, you’ve always been hard to read. Even I…”

He trails off, the last of his words resonating with a hint of melancholy. The room goes quiet a moment aside from the light swishing of liquor in one of the men’s glasses.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” The Overseer eventually tells his companion, his voice low and much softer than you’ve ever heard it before. It’s strange.

“I won’t ever speak this way to anyone but you.”

You hear the loud breath of Lucius as he expels air through his nose. You can’t tell what he might be feeling or thinking now, but this act is followed by the sound of him shuffling as he no doubt slams back the rest of his liquor.

“You should slow down,” The Overseer advises him. Lucius finishes his gulping and lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Stop and smell the roses?” he questions, teasing his superior. “Is that it?”

His boss does not really respond at first. Only after another brief silence and another sip of his liquor does he finally bother to say anything.

“I don’t know. I’m tired, Lucius.”

“Then sleep.”

The Overseer refuses, his sharp tone returning. “No. I have work to do. I won’t sleep in the bed I’ve made until I’m ready.”

You hear Lucius rise from his chair and step calmly away. You presume he’s stepping closer to The Overseer.

“Will you be satisfied then?” He asks, almost gently. When his companion does not respond, he laughs through his throat. “No? Well, you’re a spoiled little rich boy. Buy yourself some time if that’s what you want.”

“Don’t tease me,” The Overseer responds to him with little amusement. “Could money buy back lost time, I’d probably still have ended up right here anyway. One way or another.”

Lucius pauses before giving a long exhale. “I know. As would I.”

The Overseer is the one who finishes his drink quickly now, acting hypocritically to his initial concern toward Lucius doing the same. Once done, he rises from his chair and takes both glasses away. He does not store them again or attempt to go wash them, rather leaves them somewhere. The settling of the glass makes a light clunk noise against the hard surface.

“I should go,” The Overseer remarks stepping now toward the room door. “I’ll be back soon.”

He stops then, not exiting just yet.

“Lucius,” he calls, getting his partner’s attention. Lucius lets out a curious “hm?”. In response, his superior lets out a short sigh.

“Thank you. I enjoyed this. But you are not the only one who knows the other’s intentions. So I will say but one thing—and I speak here as your superior, not your equal.”

Lucius perks up obediently. “Yes sir?”

The Overseer again pauses, as if struggling or contemplating. Without being able to see his face, it’s hard to tell what he intends. Hell, it’s hard enough to read him even when you do see his face. He’s always been so expressionless, or merely angry and embittered.

The Overseer, despite silently parsing his words, soon says but one thing:

“Don’t let me catch you.”

He says nothing more before the door opens. Once he’s left, it closes, shutting you and Lucius in together. Your now-open eyes widen when you realize what the man meant.

Lucius does not move right away. In fact, he continues to ignore you and simply pours himself another glass of liquor before putting the bottle away entirely. He lingers around the room a bit, doing nothing of note. Thinking to himself, perhaps. You’ve no clue. The only thing you can really gather is the eventual sound of him opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing something, then closing the doors.

You remain laying there in utter terror, expecting him to move toward you any moment. You realize The Overseer knows of Lucius’ infatuation with tormenting you in the way you fear, and, in defeat, is allowing the man to do as he pleases, if only it remains unseen. If that’s not the case, you have no idea why he’s giving him the opportunity now, or why he said what he did.

Whether Lucius will take the man up on his vaguely permissive word, you don’t know. He seemed annoyed at you last time he tried, unless he was just trying to scare you. He’d be glad to know he succeeded then, as even now your heart just won’t stop pounding while you tremble and wait in excruciation for what might come. You can only hope your assumptions are all wrong.

Lucius continues to ignore you, even moving to the restroom to clean off the glasses, which you gather he’s doing when you hear running water again for a short time. You try to quell your shivering in the meantime, not wanting to get caught so easily if he does decide to peel away the curtain. You’re sure he expects you’ll wake up soon anyway, so all you have to do is hold on until then.

Eventually, the man does slowly draw back the curtain, and you keep your eyes shut and your body still. Unexpectedly, a splash of something hits the side of your face, and you almost suck in a breath of fluid rather than air at the sudden sensation. The moment you’re aware of the envelopment of the stuff around your mouth and nose and eyes, you breathe out and even cough a bit. The odor of the liquid is subtle, but just sour and unpleasant enough to nauseate you. Once it stops coming, Lucius tosses the empty bottle beside you, right before your face. Your eyes widen as you realize he knows quite certainly about the switch now.

Your hair is left damp at the ends where the liquid splashed you, and your skin remains cold as the air hits the wettened surface. Your breaths deepen as you tense up.

“I figured as much,” is all the man tells you when you refuse to look up or move. “Evidently Gale would have had to make sure you were conscious enough to speak to. I just wasn’t sure exactly what it is they did. I’d mulled it over and developed theories of my own, of course. Switching out our stock was actually one of my last few guesses. I simply hadn’t checked yet. He was counting on me to figure it out.”

The shivering doesn’t stop, though you attempt to breathe with more intense focus to keep yourself calm.

“Princess, you should use what little of your brain you still have,” Lucius criticizes you. “Of course I’d know what feigning sleep looks like. I have seen many sleeping patients, and many corpses. You’re not exactly a convincing actress, nor are you the first person to try outwitting me.”

He places his hand on your shoulder.

“You do realize he’ll be quite upset If he knew you heard what you did? It was quite personal for him. He’ll also be rather dissatisfied that you didn’t tell him what Gale pulled when you had the chance. And if I choose to tell him outright, you’d be finished.”

“What choice did I have?” you question quietly, almost whispering. “I didn’t want to upset him further. Won’t you get in trouble for lying about how I was asleep?”

“Mm, he might have a word about it,” Lucius does not deny this. “But you seem to have already forgotten what I mean to him. He will let it slide. As it is, he’s already gathered my intentions and forced himself to accept them.”

He chuckles.

“He knows I don’t get the chance to fool around with sentient things like you because he forbids it. Because you’re here, I have that chance. But I won’t get that chance again when you leave.”

“Why?” You question him. “Why do you even want this?”

“I never said that I do,” Lucius remarks dryly. “You think I want you? Why? Because you’re you? You’re just something to mess with. You’re different than what I usually toy around with, certainly. I won’t deny that you’ve sufficiently entertained me, which is just what you ought to have done in return for me bothering to take care of you.”

“I don’t understand. Do you liken me to the workers? Keeping me docile and weak? Is that it?”

“You’re trying to make sense of something that is, by its very nature, completely senseless,” Lucius answers you sharply. I have my needs and wants. You are not what I want. Not even close.”

He gives a short laugh.

“But you’ll do to satisfy my needs.”

You let out a breath when you feel the man slip into the bed with you, his body taking hold of yours from behind. With you leaning on one arm, you’re already disadvantaged, and it’s far too easy for the man to take his hold. He slips one arm under you and brings its hand to your mouth to keep you quiet. His other hand, meanwhile, presses into the mattress by your stomach as he steadies himself while leaning the rest of his body upon your backside.

The man’s liquor-soured breath wafts into your face from the side, making you feel queasy.

“You’re shaking quite a lot. Are you scared?” He coyly questions.

You don’t bother to try protesting or answering him. You merely let heavy breaths come through your nose and shift your eyes away. Even this still amuses Lucius.

“Are you still afraid of getting pregnant?” He asks with a laugh. “Honestly? You know full well that there’s a large chance you’ll be completely fine with just one instance.”

He tilts his head as he watches your uneasy face with his dark eyes.

“Mm, but of course, there’s still the matter of your hiding the fact that you weren’t being dosed properly. How many times exactly was it that you were given the placebo? Two? Four? Why don’t you tell me?”

He then lowers his hand and squeezes each side of your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, your voice shaking as you try to stifle your panic. “I can’t remember.”

“I see. Then I suppose I’ll just use you until it no longer amuses me to torment you,” he says lowly as he begins to reach down and undo the button and zipper of his pants. “That’s fair, isn’t it?”

He gives you little chance to respond before again covering your mouth.

“Of course it is,” he answers for you. Once he’s fully exposed himself, he pauses and frowns. He turns your head slightly left so that you’re forced to see him a bit more, and so that he doesn’t have to hunch over you so much. The motion greatly strains your neck, but you can do nothing for it but exhale through your nostrils as the temporary sharp pain of being suddenly turned slowly passes.

“I suppose I shouldn’t hurt you,” your assailant says with a low tone, nearly muttering disapprovingly. “Putting your body through too much and forcing it to require care would only out the both of us and upset my superior. So, I should take a little time to get you ready. I don’t much care if you get anything out of this, but I admit it’s much more satisfying when you coax your partner into enjoying what you do to them.”

He gently strokes your outer thigh, and your own hands clutch the thin fabric atop the mattress as you don’t bother to move. You fear what might happen if you even tried to fight back, especially if the man is influenced at all by the alcohol he’s consumed. All you do now is shut your eyes and pray for this to end.

“Make no mistake, princess,” Lucius murmurs playfully in your ear. “I don’t much care to romance you, nor do I intend to make my mark on you in some pathetic attempt at ownership. I don’t care about you as an individual. It could be anyone in my arms now.”

His free hand trails to your lower abdomen, his cold fingers lingering on your flesh.

“Do also note that impregnating you is not my intention,” he goes on, teasing you. “But you’ll be used quite a few times as recompense for your actions. I’ll keep nice and quiet about what you heard in turn for this. I’ll lie about what Gale did. But should your worst fear come to light by my hand, by my seed, there is nothing special about what will follow. Don’t expect such treatment. Know that I care little whether you live, die, become a worker, become pregnant, or anything at all. My only interest now is making you take me.”

His fingers slip playfully down to your vulva. He does not bother to take his time toying with your clit, though he does linger at your entrance a bit and breathes a subtle bit of laughter into your ear when he feels it.

“You’re trembling even down here,” he teases. “The captured slave gives off warmth and wetness between her legs like a bitch in heat, as if her own desires matter.”

He chuckles.

“Still, let’s loosen you up just enough for me to slip into you. I’ve heard rumors about how tight you can be, even when you want it.”

You wince as his fingers press into you without any prior preparation. The pressure of their forceful entry takes you sharply aback, though it thankfully doesn’t hurt. It’s just been a while since you’ve felt this kind of touch, and you’re reminded promptly how much you hate being forced to receive it.

The man clutching your maw tightly continues to toy with your pussy, even circling your clit with his thumb just to get you a little wet. You know with certainty he isn’t here to fully pleasure you. Quite the other way around. Either way, taking this isn’t easy this time. Even you struggled to get yourself off, regardless of whether you managed to get some tinge of pleasure from your own touch.

Lucius’ toying of you persists. He adjusts each motion and speed until he finds one suitable to invoke a response in you. When finally your body does give into the sensation, you let whimper slip out muffledly from your lips. The moment he hears it, Lucius breathes laughter again into your ear.

“You’re clenching tightly around my fingers, princess,” he murmurs. “You’re enjoying this? You pride yourself on fighting, yet give in so easily. No wonder Yosuke wanted you.”

Wanted...?

Lucius then stops toying with your pussy and retracts his fingers from it. He brings his wettened fingers up to your face, dropping his other hand from your mouth, and commands you,

“Lick it up.”

You grimace at the order, but do as told and stick out your tongue to wipe the pads of his fingers. Lucius laughs.

“And the slave obeys in fear of what her master might do to her,” he teases you. “You continue to show me that you’re still so afraid of death, as I will continue to remind you that your act toward my superior was nothing more than just that. You aren’t nearly as strong as you want to believe.”

He leans further into your ear, smirking all the while.

“Lift up your knees, now,” he commands you next. You reluctantly follow his order, bending your knees and bringing them up slightly. The motion only partly exposes your lower body from behind, as if in invitation. Lucius brings his hand back down to his crotch and adjusts himself as best he can before entering your pussy from behind you. The sensation of his pushing into you leaves you tight and warm. You let out a loud gasp as you endure his slow penetration. Your hand clutches even more around the fabric of the bed, but your assailant does not let you move.

Lucius wraps his freest arm around the front of your abdomen, clutching you closer as you start to wriggle uncomfortably at his entry.

“Squirm,” he breathes playfully into your ear. “Resist as you like. It makes no difference. Be glad I’m choosing such a lazy position for now.”

You let out a loud cry of protest, prompting the man to again clutch the hand of the arm wrapped under your body back over your mouth.

“None of that, princess,” Lucius coos. “I’d love nothing more than to hear your dear, agonizing cries again. I’ve been so accustomed to silence, after all. But it’s best we not make much noise now. If he comes back and hears your noises from behind that door before I have a chance to hide away what we’re doing, he’ll get quite mad.”

He laughs.

“Your muffled moans of protest will do just fine.”

You whimper further as Lucius begins to buck himself against you, slowly at first. His body’s warmth envelops your backside, and every breath he makes brushes against your cheek, neck, and ear.

With only just enough wetness in your pussy to take the man, doing so isn’t as painful as it had been with the worker who forced his way in without any kind of preparation. Even so, the initial few thrusts Lucius makes into you are ladened with an immense, uncomfortable pressure, especially since he entered you while you were positioned in a way you haven’t really been before. Each thrust makes you whimper and moan in discomfort, but you can’t do a thing to stop the man now.

Some loose strands of Lucius’ hair brush against your cheek as he hovers over your face, watching it closely as he rapes you. Your own eyes shut as you’re ridden from behind, your mind merely begging for this to be over. It’s bad enough that it’s happening, but it’s more intimate in this position than you want to be with someone like Lucius.

You don’t want to let him come inside of you, but you know he fully intends to fill you just for the sake of tormenting you, for the sake of plucking at the fearful strings in your heart that dread impregnation. His only goal here is to keep you beneath him, you know. He only wants you to be frightened and weak. He can’t stand knowing you tried being strong and nearly succeeded. He especially likely can’t stand knowing you upset someone so important to him.

Once your pussy has accustomed to the thickness of Lucius’ cock, he begins to pick his pace up. Despite his eagerness to fill his own bodily needs, he doesn’t rush as much as you expect. He makes long, warm strides against you even in his slightly faster pace. The heat of his body and the smooth fabric of his clothes rub incessantly against your back and bottom with every careful thrust.

Lucius’ breath hits your face more strongly as he breathes more deeply. He does not moan or groan, just as he hadn’t when you sucked him off. He merely breathes, and each puff of air frightfully reminds you of the worker’s hoarse, strained breaths into your ear.

Your body continues to tremble in both forced pleasure and genuine horror as you’re fucked again against your will. You instinctively grab Lucius’ wrist with the one hand your body isn’t leaning against, but you can’t bring yourself to try prying him away. Your fingers tightly grip against the man’s flesh, but he only brings your body even closer and holds it tightly to keep you in place while he grinds against you.

Soon, your assailant’s breaths quicken and become shallower as his urge to come inside of you grows. You haven’t reached that point yourself with hardly any stimulation, but you know Lucius doesn’t much care about your own needs.

He finally starts to make some noise from his throat, fiercefully grunting into your ear as his pleasure rises. Every grip he has on you tightens even more, and he clutches you with immense force as he reaches his peak. In moments, you feel the man’s cock twitch inside your body. The moment it does, your assailant starts to come, shooting plenty of his warm semen into your pussy. His thrusts slow, and his strides widen, but neither stop for a moment as Lucius pumps you full of more and more cum until his orgasm ends. His noises sound restrained, if utterly breathy. What he does manage to expel from his throat sounds out strongly.

Once Lucius has come down from his pleasure, pauses and catches his breath slightly. Your lower body remains sticky and gross with cum, but you don’t dare move. By now, Lucius’ grip on your mouth has loosened just enough for you to turn your head just a little back to a less uncomfortable position.

You then feel your assailant worm his outer leg between the both of yours, forcing your own leg to rest atop his while the other remains pressed against the mattress. Lucius leans further into you , cradling you ever closer to his body as the arm wrapped around your torso slips just under your breasts.

Again, the man starts up with his thrusting, not at all tired of his use of you. With your leg forced open and with cum still coating your pussy, you’re left with a disgusting sensation of wet warmth and fullness. You continue to whimper as you’re pumped more and more into, the motions of the man holding you hostage wide but powerful. Your fingers grip tightly at the man’s flesh on his wrist as you beg him to stop without words.

Whatever portion of the right side of your face that isn’t wholly covered by Lucius’ cold hand presses against the pillow as the man leaning against your side and back continues his rape of your body. Despite his incessant, voiceless quiet, Lucius finally speaks when he catches sight of your face.

“My,” he breathes. “You’re loosening up quite a bit. It’s been a little more time since you’ve done this, hasn’t it? It must feel good to have it again, without the pain.”

He thrusts again into you, grunting as he does.

“Perhaps even the fear of being impregnated isn’t enough to keep you away from the pleasure. Will you cry if it happens?”

You again whimper desperately into the man’s hand. The longer he rides you, and the stronger he thrusts into you now that his shift in position has given him more freedom to, the more your body incrementally starts to endure a pleasure you don’t want.

Lucius laughs.

“If your doctor could see you like this, he’d be ashamed,” he teases you, his voice low and hushed between his breaths and subtle grunts. “Angry, perhaps, knowing how I’ve treated you. I wonder how he’d react if it wasn’t him who got you pregnant, given how desperately he spoke of being the one to do it. Surely the chances of him being the one are low with how many men do this to you.”

Your thoughts run wild with begging for Lucius to stop, but you know it’s pointless to fight. You remain with your body betraying you, threatening to come despite you wanting to get away from the man’s grip of you.

Your chains rattle incessantly with every pumping of Lucius’ hard cock into your sticky pussy, and you can do no more than lay there and be used.

The constant pumping into your body nearly causes you to reach your peak, but it unfortunately never comes. Only Lucius gets to orgasm. All you do is take him as he starts to grunt and pant again into your ear, subtly but strongly. In moments, you feel his cock pulse and twitch once more before it spurts more of your assailant’s thick, warm load into you.

Lucius gives a few breathy grunts into your ear as he continues his bucking against your body, and you remain limp as you defeatedly let him spill his seed into you. His pumping pace soon slows to halt as his pleasure ebbs, and you remain laying there sticky and wet with cum.

This sensation wasn’t one you missed whatsoever. You hadn’t fully grasped it when the worker was coaxed into using you because of the shock and subsequent numbness of continuously being fed load after load. Now, you’re aware and forced to feel every bit of the viscous, milky substance coating your insides and trickling slightly out of your pussy.

It’s disgusting.

You continue to stay still, breathing steadily through your nose and letting your eyes glaze over in defeat as you’re kept tightly in Lucius’ grasp. He catches his breath, the air hitting your cheek and ear. Every sound of it reminds you of the worker, reminds you of Lucius shooting him in the head. You can’t stand it, but can’t do anything to stop the memory from playing over in your head as you lay still and full of semen.

Once Lucius finally is able to bring himself to speak again, he breathily laughs into your ear.

“You didn’t even come,” he remarks coyly. “I figured you would, even if I didn’t intend to make you.”

He frowns then.

“Were it up to me, I’d leave you here like this. But I guess it’s in my best interest to have the bed and you cleaned, no?”

You make no more noises, simply laying still as ever. Lucius soon pulls himself out of you, and the spilling of his cum from your body continues once he does. You continue to stay still while you hear the man leave to clean himself off and promptly call for a worker.

The stickiness between your legs is unbearable. You’d like to wipe it away, to scoop out what Lucius left in you. Even if you could bring yourself to try, you’re too afraid that any sudden movements will only allow the stuff to coat you further. You won’t have it.

A worker soon shows up to do as Lucius asked, and you’re promptly unchained from the bed. For once, your assailant doesn’t bother to cuff you. He knows full well that you won’t try to run.

The dark-haired man says nothing to you as he ferries your limp body to the tub in the bathroom. The worker takes care of the bed meanwhile, the mattress now wet with the liquid that was dumped on you, with your own juices, and with Lucius’ cum. While the worker carries their task out, Lucius tends to you. His usual calm expression returns, his anger toward you no longer as prominent now that he’s dominated your body. He quietly relishes in your frozen state as he splashes you with water from the showerhead above you.

Your body remains limply sitting in the tub, and you lean against the cold wall while water rains over you. Lucius, for once, does not bother to complain about having to clean you up. He merely rinses the stickiness away without a word. He doesn’t much have to complain anyway, you figure. He must be enjoying watching your weary face. Silently smug, even.

You hate giving the man the reaction he craves—fear, misery, exhaustion. You can’t much help it. The lingering thought that he could actually cause you to get pregnant, and the fear that you feel at what he might do if you resist him both leave you hesitant to fight back. With the other doctors, fighting back and speaking out was at least somewhat of an option. You could talk back all you liked and all they’d do at worst was threaten or lightly injure you. The most dangerous of the men you faced then was either Micah or Milos, but even Micah restrained himself for your doctor’s sake.

Now, you’re faced with a man that could easily just whip his pistol out and shoot you dead if he were bothered enough. He is the one that’s called to deal with the unruly, if The Overseer himself doesn’t show. If you act so unruly now, it’s your head.

The water shuts off, and you’re prompted to exit the tub. Finally, you move. You quietly wring out your hair and do as instructed, then use a towel you’re given to dry yourself off. Once finished, you discard the towel and stand still while you await the man to guide you out of the room.

Rather than immediately do so, Lucius stands before you with a tilted head, watching your defeated face. He chuckles and runs the back of his hand sweetly along your cheek and down your neck. You flinch at the sensation. You know the man isn’t doing it because he genuinely wants to give you affection. He merely knows with certainty that you hate this kind of thing. He’s only messing with you in amusement.

“I’m surprised I was able to enjoy you that way,” Lucius remarks. “I’m not usually so lusty. I suppose the liquor did help loosen me up a bit and break the ice. But don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. I’m in no place to abuse my boss’ stash that way, so I won’t have it again without him. Liquor is but another luxury for me. I don’t oft get to indulge in it, but I suppose I’m glad I did this time.”

His hand graces the top of your breasts as he eyes them. He luckily doesn’t linger there or touch much else of you, instead retracting his hand entirely and leaving it at his side.

“Ten,” he calls out. His sudden use of your Number only shakes you utterly. You don’t want to look his way, but force yourself to do so, if only to prevent him forcing you to himself. You gaze up at the man with a quiet fury, but remain obedient to him nonetheless. Lucius smirks.

“We’ll do this again next time we’re able,” he says. “And we’ll keep it up until I tire of you or decide I’ve been compensated for keeping quiet. If you’re good, I just might entertain your whorish needs and make you come. I don’t have to, of course. Do keep that in mind.”

You continue to stay silent, but Lucius does not force you to respond this time. He’s well aware you’ve heard him. With this said, he then leads you back to your bed, which by now has been cleaned. It’s unfortunately still damp, but with your own wet hair indicating clearly that you were bathed, it wouldn’t much raise suspicion if The Overseer saw the bed this way. Nonetheless, you shiver as you climb back atop the thing, the cold air having rendered the wet fabric frigid.

After chaining you back up, Lucius closes the curtain on you and leaves you be, not at all bothering to give another word or listen to anything you might have to tell him. Not like you have the strength right now when you’re still reeling from being filled.

You suppose now that he’s discovered the switch Gale made, Lucius will be using the real anesthetic on you from now on, if he so chooses to put you out. In part, you’d very much like to sleep, but you doubt Lucius would be so merciful as to allow it now.

Though there’s a long break between your being left alone and the gunman’s next forceful use of you, any time away from him is time you’re grateful for. It’s time for you to breathe and focus on yourself. Though you’d wanted some kind of attention, some kind of validation before, you’re now oversaturated with the worst kind of attention. And, as expected, Lucius relishes in tormenting you with it. You respond to it in a way that entices his disturbing interests, but you can’t bring yourself not to.

Gale suggested you were much too dependent. Maybe you were selfish to want the validation you did, but you’re so tired of the constant abuse in this room. Perhaps you’re lucky to have made it this far, but you can’t bring yourself to be so joyful about it. What irks you most is that you continue not to derive any fruitful pleasure from being touched, beyond an unfulfilling spark that goes nowhere. There’s no recompense for your suffering for now. But even if Lucius does bother to bring you to that height of pleasure, it’ll hardly be fulfilling knowing that he did it by force. You don’t look forward to it, provided he does choose to follow through.

When The Overseer is around, nothing changes. You remain in your daily cycle, being fed and forgotten, with only occasional vitamin shots intermixed within. The longer you listen in on the men droning on about things you can’t understand, and the more you remain with nothing to do or think of, with no energy at all, the more you feel yourself slipping again. Gale was right that you’d crumble without them. You shouldn’t let yourself fall this way.

You don’t want to.

When next Lucius is alone with you, he patiently peels the curtain back and looks down upon your still frame, watching you with a quiet smugness. You don’t much have to see his lips curve to know that he’s looking forward to what he intends.

“On your stomach, now,” is all he tells you, his voice low. You refuse to look up at him, but do follow his order. You grow queasy as you carry it out. This task proves uncomfortable as your chains cross, but you manage to complete it and lay down on your stomach. Your arms sprawl before you, and you grip the bars at the head of your bed tightly in an unpleasant anticipation for Lucius to crawl atop you.

You gasp when he starts to trail a finger down your spine instead, chuckling amusedly to himself as he watches and feels you tremble.

“Eager?” He questions coyly. “Poor thing. How disillusioned you must be to think you’re wanted. You’re only an object for me to torment. Remember that as I use you.”

His words are followed by an audible, slow unzipping sound as Lucius undoes his pants. You shut your eyes as you await his touch of you. Your breathing remains as steady as it can be in the moment, but your heart beats at a pace that hardly matches your attempts to stay calm.

Will it be this time that causes you to get pregnant? Or will you still be okay? What if it’s next time?

The thought shouldn’t be so scary knowing that what you fear is inevitable. You have to put it out of your mind, but you just can’t help yourself. You don’t want Lucius to…

“Ngh!” You grunt in surprise as the man finally takes hold of you. His sudden climbing atop the bed and your body takes you aback as you had remained ever lost in your own thoughts. Lucius’ arm wraps around your torso, worms its way between your breasts, and keeps you held close. His other arm, meanwhile, trails down your outer thigh.

You can feel the heat of the man’s body from behind you, feel as his hips straddle you and keep your body firmly pressed against the mattress. Your cheek rubs against your pillow as you turn your head, and continue breathing while you await your next use.

“Spread your legs, princess,” Lucius instructs you, his lips lingering close to your ear. “And keep your voice low. I can’t do everything for you, you know.”

Lucius’ fingers slowly trail down to your vulva and again toy with you there. He chuckles breathily into your ear again. That damn laugh drives you insane. You can’t stand the sound of it nor the heat of the man’s breath against your skin.

“Still shaking? Poor girl,” he teases you further. His fingers playfully rub against and toy with your clit. “Are you frightened, or expecting me to be sweet with you? I said before I only intend to use you. I’ll only make you wet enough to take me. Anything else would be unnecessary. You’ll have to earn the right to feel good.”

Your fingers tightly curl around the bars at the head of your bed as Lucius plays with your body. The sensation of the cold against your clit is unfortunately stimulating. You don’t exactly feel the same heights of pleasure you had before coming here at this act, but your body responds to it nonetheless. Lucius eventually retracts his fingers and runs them up and down your slit, feeling its slightly wettened surface.

He laughs throatedly a bit in amusement at your body’s response to his touch, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he silently parts your labia with his fingers, tightens the embrace of his arm against your chest and slowly pushes his way into your pussy. The tip of his cock digs deeper into you, and you can do no more than take the length of his shaft as the man buries it into you.

You let out a long sigh and light groan as he does this, your hands gripping the cold steel of your bed firmly as you’re forced to take Lucius into you.

“Shh,” the man hushes you, his breath spilling into your ear. You gasp as he pulls his lower body away from you and promptly thrusts into you again. The pressure of his pumping into you feels tight, but not wholly painful.

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this,” Lucius remarks when he sees you gritting your teeth. “It shouldn’t be so hard to take me. Especially not after I used you already.”

“It’s been a little while!” You grunt out as the man pumps again into your pussy. “You’re not giving me enough to work with beforehand either!”

“Mm,” the man atop you hums thoughtfully as he thrusts again into you. “You’re loosening up just fine anyway. Shall I go faster, princess?”

“Like I can stop you,” you bitterly respond. Lucius merely chuckles before gripping the sheet of the bed firmly as he steadies himself atop you.

“Then attempt to enjoy this, if you can,” he tells you before bucking against you more strongly. His pace picks up slightly as he pumps his cock deeply into your pussy. You gasp and whimper with each motion, the force of his thrusts causing your clit to lightly rub against the mattress.

Lucius’ pace and force are far less suave than last time. He’s being a little less lazy than before now that he’s sober. Regardless, being used like this is unbearable.

Again, pleasure incrementally rises in your body, but you struggle to reach orgasm regardless of how close you come. You want dearly to let go, but receive nothing and are only left to be a puppet for Lucius’ own pleasure.

Your assailant grunts more strongly into your ear as he rides you, forcefully feeding his cock into you. He chuckles hearing how restrained you try to make your noises—you want to wail and moan, but wind up removing one hand from your bed’s bars and biting at the flesh of your forearm to muffle yourself if only to avoid letting Lucius do it himself.

Lucius’ amusement grows the more you try to keep quiet, and his pace does not once falter. He eventually drops his arm from around your torso, his hand gently grazing the skin of your breasts as he does. Without a word, he brings his free hand to the other side of your body and places his palm down against the mattress to steady himself. Once he’s ready and positioned as he wants, his forceful thrusts into you quicken in pace.

By now, you’ve become despicably wet despite the limit of your arousal. As Lucius fucks you, the sloppy sounds of squelching fill the air, much to your disgust.

This ordeal is hardly pleasant, and is a frightful chore more than anything. Lucius only wants to keep you beneath him, scare you utterly. You’re sure he doesn’t at all care about genuinely getting compensation for your choosing not to tell him or his boss about what Gale did. He likely already knew and was just finding any reason to torment you. He just needed to wait for his move. It angers you that it took him getting a bit buzzed to bother.

Your breaths fiercefully come out through your nose as you remain trying to stifle your other noises. Lucius persists in his breathy grunts and pants as he relentlessly fucks you, pumping hungrily into your pussy without a care for your own pleasure. Lucius’ gun holsters bob with each thrust, clicking and sliding against the fabric of his shirt as they move.

At some point, the rubbing and pumping and breathing and grunting all becomes too much for you to handle. You can’t bring yourself to come, but still go numb with the forced pleasure you endure against your will. You eventually become limp beneath the gunman again, your hand falling from the bar as your grip falters. Your other arm remains by your mouth, but you give up trying to stifle your own noises and feel your eyes glaze over as the man atop you continues pumping his cock in and out, in and out of you until even he can’t take it any longer.

His pace soon slows, and Lucius lets out one last grunt before he spurts another load of thick, warm cum into your pussy. As he finishes up, he gives a breathy laugh and continues grinding against your backside until there’s nothing left for him to expel. He eventually stops moving altogether and hunches over your back, his hands spread on either side of your body.

Lucius breathes deeply behind you, gathering his wits again after filling you up with his seed. You again do nothing but lie there in defeat, and left unsatisfied. However, the man brings a hand to your head and pets it.

“Good,” he praises breathily against your neck, the warm, gentle sensation of the air and the vibrations of his voice both sending a shiver down your spine. “Perhaps I’ll give some thought to helping you come sometime.”

He doesn’t persist in fucking you like before, though he hardly much has to with how weary you are already. His only goal was to break you, and you gave him the response he wanted if only to get him to leave you alone.

You’re again bathed while your bed is cleaned, the conversation between you and Lucius lacking utterly as he washes you. He simply watches your face and your eyes as you avoid looking his way, all while being completely aware of his disturbed fixation on you.

Once you’re finally left alone on your clean bed and shut out from the rest of the room, you chide yourself for letting Lucius get to you. For once in your confinement here, you’d wanted to at least pretend you were making some kind of progress. Now you feel as if anything you have achieve has simply been reversed. You don’t want to fall.

You won’t.

You’ll adapt to this again. You have to.

Nothing can much be done for the fear, but you do try to swallow the fact that you will be impregnated someday. It takes time for you to really come to terms with this. You don’t fully yet, but it’s something you can at least say it’s a truth. Once this is done, you then work on trying to calm yourself down, and try to consider that Lucius might not get you pregnant. Monica had said it would take quite a lot of tries for implantation to occur. Even if Lucius is responsible, you have to keep in mind that you could very well survive a pregnancy here.

You’ve survived so much already, haven’t you? Surely your body isn’t so weak that it can’t handle childbirth or surgery or whatever else. You highly doubt that the men allow natural childbirths, nor wait for the full pregnancy to occur. You suppose at least you’ll be unconscious for whatever it is they do. The only thing you should fear at all is what precisely they’ll do and what will happen to you after the fact.

It’s not at all easy for you to accept all this, but you do try nonetheless to remember it well. Even when Lucius again Is left alone with you and forces his body against yours, you try to accept it. Your reaction to the abuse doesn’t much change because of your understanding, though. You still give a fearful, hesitant visage to the man pinning you down and fucking you hard.

He doesn’t make good on his promise to try pleasing you this time, but he does at least make you a little more wet beforehand by roughly kissing your neck and breathing deeply against the flesh there. You do nothing more than let a few moans slip at this treatment, instinctively so in response to his touch.

Were Lucius a kinder man, and your situation different than this, a woman like you might have melted in his arms. There’s an undertow of passion in what he does that he holds back purely because his desire is to torment you. If he cared enough to genuinely please you, you’re sure he could. Though, that thought only angers you. He could very well make you come without issue. He merely refuses to.

You’re again raped later on, this time while laying on your back. Lucius doesn’t hover over your body, instead kneeling on your bed while gripping your legs against his sides and pumping his cock fully into you while he has your lower body lifted. He’s pinned your hands to the bed this time, the same way he had when he drugged the worker. You hate the reminder, yet the hard fucking of your body helps distract you slightly from the horrible memory. It’s hardly a plus.

This time, with how roughly you’re being pounded into, you can’t help but let out girlish moans as your face twists with pain and pleasure all at once. Lucius merely smirks watching you squirm beneath him. Your wrists pull instinctively away in a desire to reach out to the man and pry him away, but are unfortunately kept in place by your metal bonds.

More and more, you’re filled with cum, fucked against your will and used as an object. You can’t bring yourself to orgasm from such horrible treatment, especially after so long of being numb and weary. The agonizing inability to feel good leads you to grow so frustrated that you grit your teeth and breathe heavily as if threatening to cry. You just want one bit of compensation. Just one. If Lucius is going to keep at this in hopes of lording over you and keeping you weak, you at least want to be fulfilled.

Despite your bitter reaction after being pumped into further, you lay there and let Lucius drop your legs. Once more, he praises you for taking him, and he continues to tease you with the promise of pleasure. You’re sure by now all he’s doing is leading you on just to dampen your hopes, and this only makes you angrier.

The only bit of compensation you get is occasionally being drugged with the anesthetic, something you didn’t expect to happen at all. Though, this comes primarily upon The Overseer’s order, which Lucius obeys without question. You hardly complain. When you get the chance to sleep, it’s luckily a chance to put aside all your feelings and let your mind go blank. After all the false doses and low doses, it certainly hits you strongly in a way you’ve not felt in some time.

Another relief comes when you eventually awaken to The Overseer in one moment. The respite from Lucius’ abuse brings a wave of calm over you, even though you know it won’t last long.

You’re given a meal, which you quietly eat while avoiding the boss’ gaze. Though he stands at his place by the console, he strangely turns his head and eyes you this time with a subtle bitterness to his expression. You’re sure he can tell what Lucius has been doing, but hardly acts against it without any proper evidence. He had told Lucius not to get caught, not to refrain from doing what he intended. Regardless, you eat as quickly as you can just to get some time to yourself again. You hate the unpleasant grey stare from the man’s piercing eyes, even if you aren’t wholly looking at it.

Though you attempt to rush your meal, your guardian steps your way and looks down upon you with an even more apparent, embittered expression. His blond eyebrows lower as he scowls at you.

“Explain something to me, girl,” he calls out, his voice low but firm. “Why is it that you draw so much attention?”

You put your fork down and gaze up at the man with a forcefully focused gaze, despite your heart now beating quickly and your hands starting to shake.

“S-sir?” You try to get him to clarify. You weren’t expecting to call him by “sir” or even speak out, but the sudden approaching of the angry man only shook you and led to a panicked response. However, you hope the utterance shows some level of respect toward The Overseer that he undoubtedly expects.

He doesn’t much bat an eye to your word. Rather, The Overseer reaches out and clutches your throat, his fingers gripping the flesh there firmly. Your fork drops from your hand as you’re taken aback. The Overseer doesn’t choke you entirely, but threatens quietly to as his cold, grey eyes pierce through you.

Despite wanting to reach up and pry him away, you force yourself to stay perfectly still. There’s no hiding your trembling state from the man, but you try to at least keep your eyes fixated on him. Your slightly strained breaths deepen as you try not to let the familiar, horrible feeling of your throat being clutched send you into another wild panic.

“I don’t know,” you answer him when the man silently stares you down as if awaiting you to respond. “I don’t mean to cause what happens around me.”

The Overseer slightly scoffs. “And yet you persist in being a thorn in my side by leading everyone astray. You should be grateful I let you live.”

The word “why?” almost escapes your lips, but you stop yourself immediately before it does. Instead, you muster a weary,

“Thank you.”

This makes The Overseer raise a brow.

“Are you truly satisfied getting to continue living in a place like this?”

“I have no choice in that.”

“Of course not,” The Overseer says with another scowl. “You’re a puppet for my own interests. Like the other doctors, I’ve made use of you. Such is your only role. How pathetic you are.”

He finally releases your throat, the release in pressure allowing you to breathe better. The man merely watches with a cold, grey gaze as you shudder in place.

“A smart girl would wish to die,” The Overseer tells you. “It’s about the only genuine escape you have.”

He then turns back to his console and leans against it. Without any more word of his outburst, he commands you,

“Finish eating.”

After your meal, you’re again left alone behind your curtain, laying frustrated, tired, and worried. You continue to press against your abdomen, being only marginally satisfied after noting nothing evident lurking within you, even if from such a flimsy assessment.

As you turn on your side, your hand lingers on your lower abdomen a moment, hovering there before you instinctively and thoughtlessly bring it down further. When you reach close to your crotch, your hand retracts.

It’s stupid to do that now, isn’t it? You just spent all this time miserably dealing with Lucius’ use of you. But…

You shut your eyes and bring your hand back by your head as you curl up. You want to get some kind of pleasure out of this, but you aren’t sure you could bring yourself to come even if you wanted. Lav had said this was a way for her to take control of her own body, though. Couldn’t it also be for you?

No, it’s better you don’t. Especially not with either man around. Should The Overseer catch you like that, he’d definitely give you hell. But with the placebo no longer in play, you realize you’ll hardly have a chance anyway. The only way you could get away with trying to pleasure yourself now is if you tried as hard as possible to be quiet.

Is it selfish? Stupid? You can’t believe you’re laying here, thrusting yourself into a pointless turmoil over just wanting to feel good. But you figure it’s just something most everyone here goes through one way or another. Everyone has something that makes them happy, keeps them going. Feeling good doesn’t just have to be limited to the physical.

You guess it isn’t wrong to want to feel physically good either, though. Maybe…

You turn your head and attempt to glance at The Overseer’s shadow. It’s much too risky to do this now, but you aren’t sure you’ll really ever get a chance to be completely alone to do this again. Despite hesitating, you turn back against your pillow and again bring your hand down to touch yourself, starting with your clit. Your heart pounds, and your eyes keep flickering to your left as you try to remain aware of The Overseer’s movements. You have to be utterly quiet if you want this to work. Even so, it’s still risky as hell to try this now.

You wind up pausing a few times in the middle of touching yourself to either question whether what you’re doing is a good idea, or to turn your head to make sure that The Overseer hasn’t caught wind of what you’re doing. This only hinders your ability to feel as good as you want, but after a while of flicking and rubbing at yourself, you decide to move your hand even further down to try sticking a few fingers into your pussy. You’d dearly love it if you could caress your own body like you had once before, but that’s hardly a luxury you have now. You’ll need to keep it simple.

Your lips part, but you try to stifle your urge to moan and sigh as you work yourself, bringing your fingers in and out of you and curling them against your g-spot. Your other hand clenches its fingers as you continue stimulating yourself, the fabric atop the mattress caught in your grasp.

A few light sighs do wind up escaping you regardless of your stifling attempts, but when you again turn your head anxiously toward the curtain, you see no sudden or suspicious movements from behind it.

Your thumb circles your clit as you continue to push and pull your fingers in and out of your now-wet hole, and your pleasure again incrementally rises as it had prior when you were being fucked.

You close your eyes then and concentrate on anything at all to help you, but the unfortunate image of Lucius is all that pops into your mind. You grit your teeth in quiet frustration and promptly stop your fingering motion, pulling your hand away once more. You’re left with annoyance that you can’t do a thing about. Until you can stop seeing him or any other awful thing, you won’t be able to do this.

It’s enough that he fucks you, but you much prefer it when he does it with you facing away from him. Having to see his smug face up close only sickens you. But you find that it’s quickly becoming something he prefers. He can easily tell it bothers you by the way your face scrunches up in anger or the way you refuse to look him in the eye when he rapes you.

Later on, your quiet behind the curtain is again interrupted for another quick session once Lucius returns to the room and switches places with The Overseer, who leaves to take care of something. This time, Lucius makes good on his word to give you some inkling of pleasure, though you hardly want it from him now. You became hellbent on feeling it on your own after he robbed you of the sensation of orgasming. For him to suddenly decide to let you have it, especially just after you’ve just struggled to masturbate because of him, only makes you angrier.

Lucius takes his place atop your body, straddling your hips and steadying himself upon the mattress. He bends one arm to lean upon it while he hovers atop you, while the palm of his other hand presses into the bed. Without hesitation, he kisses you forcefully, sucking at your lips and keeping you quiet. When you attempt to pull away, he brings his hand up and grips your chin firmly, keeping you in place. You moan slightly into his mouth as you feel him grind with long strides against your body from behind the cloth of his slacks, but make no attempts to fight him further knowing it will only entice him. All you do is shut your eyes and let Lucius have his way with you.

Whereas his use of you prior was purely for his own gain, this time he’s decided to allow you some form of titillation. His methods very much mimic doctors before him who’ve used you. The reminder of how they once forcefully aroused your body only sickens you.

Your mind goes blank the longer you’re kissed, and your fingers curl around the sheet of the bed. When Lucius eventually does pull back, he hovers over your face and tilts his head upon observing your flushed, glazed-over expression. Your chest rises and falls slowly as you suck in breaths.

“You’re flustered,” the man notes with displeasure as his hand drops from your chin. “You really do enjoy this kind of thing? How cliché.”

When you don’t respond, he again reaches toward you, but you turn your head away angrily. This only makes Lucius smirk.

“You don’t want it all of a sudden?” He questions coyly. “Make up your mind, princess. Shall I pleasure you or not?”

He trails his fingers along your cheek sweetly as he watches your chest continue to steadily rise and fall with every slow breath you make. After pausing to examine your flushed face a moment, he again takes his hand away and instead moves to open the top of his pants to open them up.

“Well, either way,” he croons. “I’m not quite bored yet.”

Again, Lucius forces himself upon you, burrowing the head and shaft of his dick deeply into your body. Though forceful in his thrusts against you, he does fulfil his earlier promise. He willingly pecks at your neck and nips at your ear as if he knows full well that such acts get a response from you. Whether it’s because he’s only heard what you like, or because he’s seen it firsthand, you don’t know, nor do you want to know.

You let out a few restrained moans and whimpers at his forceful touch and use of you. If he’s not one for “romance”, he’s certainly working you well now that he’s trying to actually get you off too. A few looser strands of his hair even brush against your flesh, trailing it lightly as his lips do. This only makes the titillating sensation more intense.

“You’re getting rather wet,” he lowly remarks amidst his kisses. “How filthy.”

Your head turns away from his lips, but your efforts hardly sway the man from following you. He gives you no chance to rest and continues to peck and suck at your flesh with a bored expression despite committing to his promise. Despite trying to keep quiet, you wind up letting the whimpering word “stop” escape your lips the longer you’re worked. You don’t want to enjoy the touch of a man who murders so gleefully, who enjoys being so twisted. Your utterance only takes the man atop you aback, though he looks far more annoyed than he does shocked.

“’Stop’?” He repeats, scoffing, though he continues to pump into you. “My, my. Don’t pine so greedily for a kinder touch then immediately refuse it. You’ll take what I give you and you’ll thank me afterward for going through the trouble. I told you quite clearly that I didn’t have to bother.”

He clamps a hand over your mouth, bothered by your noises. As the man relies on his knees alone to steady himself now, the fingers of his other hand reach over and curl around your inner thigh, spreading you open further as he pumps his cock more and more into you. His slight displeasure at your continued indecisiveness only makes him thrust even faster and more furiously. The quick, hard rhythm only rattles the bed and leaves you to moan louder into the man’s cold, firm hand pressed against your lips.

It’s enough that he toyed with you in a way you don’t usually hate, but now his body is rubbing against every bit of yours and making the already-worked-up thing more flustered and lustful. You don’t want to enjoy this. The want to resist such feelings only brings you back to your first few visits here. You hated being rendered helpless and force-fed pleasure.

Your breathing becomes shallower and quickens in pace the more you’re forcefully ridden. This only amuses the man fucking you, his face now plastered with a sly grin.

He hardly has to tease you now. You’re forced to look into his dark eyes as you’re taken. After a few more pumps of his cock, you start to reach your peak for the first time in a long time.

No! You beg silently for it not to happen, even raise your chained hands against the man’s clothed chest and attempt to push him away to no avail. But you find it difficult to resist now. Your head tilts back as you come and cry out desperately. Your noises remain muffled against Lucius’ flesh, though they still poke through enough for the man to hear your pleasure quite clearly. He watches with delight at his defeat of you, watches as you writhe and buck beneath him instinctively as you have with so many other men.

Lucius soon follows you, yearning to release his load. It’s certainly not you that entices him—he’s conquered you, and is only about to finish the job. You whimper and clutch your assailant’s shirt tightly as his cock pulses and threatens to spurt its juices into you. Lucius’ pumping pace slows, and his strides widen. He lets out a few breathy grunts into your ear as he finally lets go, filling your already sopping pussy again with his creamy load.

He relishes in watching you pleasurably squirm beneath him. Lucius observes your face closely as he burrows his cock further into your pussy, pulling it back and pumping it back in forcefully a few, slow times just to bury his cum deep inside you.

The both of you eventually settle, with you heaving air into your lungs the moment Lucius drops his hand. His own breaths are more subtle, but certainly broad. He rests inside you a moment, his eyes focused on an unparticular spot beside you as he gathers his wits. Soon, his black eyes flicker again to your face, and your assailant smiles grimly.

“Not bad, I suppose” he comments. “If only you were so enthused about being fucked like the workers are. I can only imagine what you’d be like if you put effort into this.”

You avoid his gaze, your heart dropping its pounding pace now that you’ve calmed down from your pleasure. You scorn yourself furiously for letting the man make you come.

“Are you angry?” Lucius questions with a feigned sweetness. He brushes his cold fingers against your cheek while he examines your bitter expression. “How sad. But don’t expect me to please you again this way. I hardly cared for the taste of your used lips.”

This is the last thing he leaves you with. He isn’t even the one to bother cleaning you off this time. Rather, he allows you to bathe on your own, even forces you to walk to the bathroom yourself in a shameful display of defeat. He merely keeps close to the bathroom door while you clean yourself.

Once more, you return to your bed and are chained up. When the curtain covers you, no relief comes. Amidst all the nervousness you have at potentially getting pregnant from his constant abuse, you remain furious over his forceful fucking of you.

You turn on your side and grip angrily at your flimsy pillow and the sheet over the bed. Tides of fury and misery beat away at you further, as they have this entire time you’ve been at the facility and in this room. You don’t really even know whether you want to cry or scream, but can do neither in your position.

You don’t want Lucius to have this hold over you. He’s already taken advantage of so much of you. This is torture. He doesn’t even care about fucking you because of some fascination he has with you personally. You are even more of an object to the man than you ever have been to any other doctor. He is only toying with you out of amusement. He acts as though he cares little for sex, yet weaponizes it against you without hesitation.

You showed one little inkling of strength, and it angered him. He wants to keep you in the place he thinks you deserve to be. Doubtless he was just as mad that you dared to act against his superior, a man he’s so attached to. You’d thought so earlier, but now believe this to be entirely the case.

God!

You shut your eyes and grit your teeth. The more you think on it, the angrier you become. But, unfortunately, you can do nothing but lay there. Lucius continues about his business as if nothing happened. Hearing him shuffle through papers and type on the keyboard and tap through cameras only irritates you further. You just want it to stop.

The fury within you doesn’t go away on its own, so you try to breathe steadily and force it away. You can’t deal with this now, nor can you do a thing about it. It’s been a while since you felt this angry. But perhaps it’s better than being numb.

You eventually manage to quell your emotions to a steadier point, enough to think a little more clearly. Once the anger fades, you remain weary and unsettled. It becomes hard to lay still, much to your annoyance.

At some point, the thoughts you had earlier drift back into your mind, and you’re again left to wonder whether touching yourself could really bring you some respite from this. If Lucius managed to force you to reach your peak, surely you can make yourself do the same now?

Despite hesitating, you want to try again. You’re so frustrated with Lucius that you just want to wash the bad taste of his use of you out of your mouth, figuratively speaking. You might break if he keeps this up, but you don’t want to give him even further satisfaction by doing so.

You again hesitate, but do try to bring your hand down to your crotch and try to stimulate yourself again. After just being fucked, you find that you’re still a bit tender there even after just cleaning yourself. The flesh along your vulva is softer than usual, and certainly warm.

The feeling of your finger against your clit this time does more strongly spark some pleasure in you. It seems your body is still fresh with an unwanted desire. Though it irks you that this is the case, you hope to try making something of it. Perhaps you can transform such a want into something that benefits you, not your assailant.

The longer you rub yourself, the more of your fingers you want to feel. You let a light breath escape your lips as the want to stick your fingers inside you rises. Although the fury remains in your heart, you focus intently on the pleasure in your body. This time, you put aside any images in your mind and force yourself to focus only on the physical sensation of your masturbation. Maybe later you can attempt to think more clearly on things that arouse you, but right now you’re in no headspace for it without the intrusion of unpleasant thoughts.

Again, you lean against your pillow, eyes closed and mouth agape as you breathe steadily. When the feeling of lust wells more strongly in your body, you finally drop your fingers to your entrance and tease it gently. Another light breath escapes you as you do this, though you pause a moment to turn your head toward the curtain again.

Lucius doesn’t seem to have budged, nor does he even appear to be focusing on you. He’s at the console, typing relentlessly away at some file, you figure. Once you’ve assessed that it’s safe, you again lean your cheek back against the pillow and slowly press your fingers into your pussy.

It’s still tender even there, you find. This doesn’t exactly please you to know given the cause, but you try to shove the thought aside and concentrate on the feeling of your digits inside you. Gently and slowly, you insert and pull back the things, all while using your thumb to stimulate your clit further with sweet, circular motions. Even if it’s just your touch, the gentler method is much more tolerable and even more pleasurable to you now after the forceful fucking you endured.

Your breaths deepen as you masturbate, though you try your best to keep them stifled and steady so as to remain unnoticed by your twisted watchdog. While a moan does almost slip out, you manage to shut your throat and restrain it. You also try not to move your hand too sporadically so as not to rattle your chains. If anything, that would be a deader giveaway than just your breaths.

Your fingers quicken their pace after a while of your tender touch, and they curl sweetly inside you to make your pleasure rise even further. You wind up drooling slightly from the corner of your mouth as you concentrate only on the sensation of your touch, but you don’t bother to wipe the saliva away the closer you get to feeling as good as you want.

With this act, you’re able to bring yourself to a higher pleasure that you couldn’t reach prior. You hate knowing it took Lucius making his mark on you to do it, but if being able to do this now means you can take back control of your own body, you won’t complain further.

Finally, finally you feel that spark you crave. After fingering yourself for what feels like forever, you finally find a motion that gets you off. You curl against your g-spot more and more, even grind your body into your fingers pleasurably as you yearn to let go.

Your breaths become shallow, and you wind up having to cover your own mouth with your other hand to try keeping quiet. You exhale and inhale rapidly through your nose and continue to toy with your pussy until suddenly, you feel a rush of lust wash over you. For this moment, you care little about anything else that’s around the room. You self-indulgently ride your own fingers and buck against them desperately as you come. Your throat clenches further to keep down any noises.

Your thighs tremble as you let go, and saliva spills onto your fingers and palm as you try to keep quiet. You press your knees together for a moment while you ride out your orgasm, but it all soon comes to a slow end.

Once it’s over, you drop your hand from your mouth and remove your sopping fingers from your pussy. All you do now is lay there silently, catching your breath and feeling your chest rise and fall slowly with every sucking of air you make.

You feel good.

When you catch your breath again, your head turns back up so that you can try seeing what Lucius is doing and gauge whether or not he heard you. There’s no way he wouldn’t at least have heard you breathing, right?

But he hasn’t at all budged. You want to believe you did fool him, but you remain wary. He’s always been tricky with you. Even so, you decide to indulge in at least some optimism if only for your sake. You could use that kind of thing now.

Despite the worry, everything apparently proceeds as expected, with your routine remaining largely unchanged. Though, you start to utilize the time you have without either man’s watchful eye. Whenever you go to the restroom, you try to toy with yourself there as well. You don’t always get enough of a chance with Lucius periodically knocking on your door with a prompt reminder to hurry. But that’s with him. Whenever it’s you and The Overseer, you don’t even bother to try feeling good. You know he’s still sour toward you despite allowing you to live for whatever reason he did. You can’t afford to slip up with him. Even though you tried it once before, you won’t now.

Lucius’ continued use of your body unfortunately does not let up either. Even after your last brush with him, he draws the curtain back again when you two are alone and proceeds to start fucking you. He doesn’t bother making you too wet anymore, still only doing the bare minimum like he had the first two times to avoid hurting you.

With your sex drive slowly returning in the worst of ways, he manages to make you come once or twice afterward even without having to spend a long time working you the way you prefer. Your only method of accepting that your body’s responding to sex again is to pretend that you’re touching yourself. This is hardly convincing, but suffices just barely enough to help you through.

Masturbating as often as you can afford to is all you can cling to right now. Lav’s points about the act had always made sense, but in doing it yourself for the same reason, you finally understand firsthand why it’s so pivotal for her. Perhaps it’s odd to really come to understand the girl in this way, but you figure it only makes you closer to her. Perhaps it’s uncanny, but you’ll take this connection to her above nothing.

You slowly get better at hiding your activity. You take full advantage of Lucius’ page turns, shuffling, and typing as a means to mask your own noises. Holding in your breaths and your moans is still a chore, but one you know is pivotal to what you intend. You make do.

A few times, you wind up having to stop upon the sudden entry of a worker or The Overseer into the room. The only other times you really have to yourself other than restroom breaks or your usual abandonment behind the curtain are when the men put you to sleep, but you can never focus enough to try touching yourself before you pass out. You’re much too afraid of slipping out of consciousness in a compromising position.

As It becomes easier to endure the burden of this place physically speaking, the hardest thing now is accepting the fact that you could still get pregnant. It’s not as though you’ve let the thought slip away, merely you found something to temporarily distract yourself from such dread. It only really surfaces when Lucius peels the curtain back in preparation to force himself upon you.

You thought you’d swallowed the reality of it before, but had acted so frightfully to Lucius’ rape of you that you think perhaps such acceptance was only feigned. But this time, you do truly try to face the inevitable. It’s becoming less difficult to think so clearly.

No matter how many times Lucius uses you, your inevitable impregnation is never something you can wholly avoid reacting to, even when you know and accept what will befall you. Each time he unveils your naked body from behind the curtain, your heart sinks. Even so, you start to feel a little better knowing that you’re carrying yourself through this, even if it is with something someone taught you. You make a quiet promise to try finding something for yourself when you aren’t stuck here. But for now, carrying on with the help of others is all you can do.

It’s been a long time since Lav showed you what to do. Even though you struggle to fully remember everything, you do remember being so flushed and embarrassed with her, especially since you weren’t sure then whether you liked her or women in general. To think that now you truly do love the girl in a much closer way than you ever thought you would is strange, but you almost want to smile laying there and remembering her. You miss her warmth just as much as Cyrus’. If only you could fully remember what it’s like.

Eventually, your routine becomes second nature. You thought it silly at first to do this sort of thing for yourself, but by now you think hardly anything of it. Coming on your own terms, touching your own body—it’s refreshing.

Naturally, it doesn’t much last.

During one session, you fail to pick up on Lucius’ footsteps toward you in your concentration, and so you’re taken aback by him violently tugging the curtain away. Your shut eyes then open, and you let out a loud gasp. Your heart jumps with fright at the sudden intrusion.

The man towering above you says nothing, but you don’t bother to turn your head to face him. Your mind races with all kinds of thoughts then—will he hurt you? Kill you? Use you further? Or will he leave you with a warning?

Lucius scoffs, though his breathy exhalation ends in such a way that almost sounds like soft laughter.

“You must be joking,” the dark-haired man finally calls out to you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hands are no longer on your body, and instead grip the sheet of the mattress tightly. Despite the sinking feeling you have, you try to remain calm and suck in slow breaths like you have been. You won’t deny the man an answer.

“Why does it matter?”

“Why?” Lucius again scoffs. “Now princess, am I not enough? I thought you were miserable. I suppose I was misled. You’re just a whore.”

He laughs then.

“I must apologize for misjudging you. Just like them, you really are so desperate for pleasure.”

Your eyes widen, but you don’t turn even now. You’re not like the workers—not like he thinks. Though, this only confirms to you that he likened you to them at all. How sick. Is that why…?

Lucius roughly tugs your arm away by your wrist, underneath your shackle. The chain rattles loudly as he brings your hand closer to him. The man then curiously examines your wet fingers. You finally turn your head to look at him worriedly, but say nothing, instead nervously awaiting his word. Your heart beats incessantly out of your chest, but you try not to let yourself buckle beneath the pressure of anxiety or fear.

“Sick girl,” Lucius chides you. “Wanting and not wanting and wanting again. You just can’t make up your mind.”

He then forces you on your back and climbs atop you, straddling your hips and pinning your arms to the bed. Your chains rattle as you’re forcefully moved about, but soon quiet when you’re locked in place. Your breath shakes a bit, but you try to stay firm and keep your eyes locked sternly on the man’s face.

He frowns.

“What’s with that look?” He asks condescendingly. “Are you trying to be brave again?”

He leans in closer and scowls.

“Is that the same look you gave him?”

You breathe through your mouth, trying to keep each inhale steady. Lucius merely watches you, unamused. His cold smile does not return.

“Shall I fuck you again?” he asks you outright. “Or would you like that? You must if you’re laying here touching yourself, begging for a chance at feeling more pleasure.”

He then leans into your ear and speaks lowly, his suave voice reverberating in your ears.

“Or would you rather I just beat you?”

You gasp slightly at the feeling of his breath brushing against your ear. This makes the man expel a breath of laughter.

“You’re amused by that threat?” He comments dryly. “How disturbed you are. Don’t try to play tough with me.”

His grip on you tightens, making you wince.

“I’m not playing,” you tell him firmly. “I can’t help certain things that I feel, but I won’t let you break me!”

“Mm?” Lucius hums in your ear. “You’re in no position to let or prohibit my doings. Don’t act like you have power here.”

“Of course I don’t,” you admit without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m at both of your mercy. I can’t fight you. I can only try not to lose myself.”

Lucius examines your face closely a moment.

“I see,” he says plainly. Finally, he smiles.

“I don’t much like this attitude of yours, princess. I’d very much like to sew that pretty mouth shut. But, I’ll say that I commend you for being so bold as to attempt something like this so close to us.”

“I only did it around you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t get it twisted!” you spit back bitterly. “I didn’t do it because of or for you. I did it for myself!”

The man’s smirk then falters and becomes yet another dissatisfied frown.

“Do you think that’ll be enough to save you?”

You scowl, but continue to stare the man down. “It’s all I can think of to do.”

“Then allow me to restrict it.”

Lucius then brings out the shackle key from beneath his shirt. As he had before, he wraps your chains around the bars of the bed and wholly restricts the amount of movement you had in your arms. Now, you’re stuck with them pinned against the cold metal things.

You watch the man angrily. “What do you want now? More of my body? Is that it?”

Lucius chuckles as he watches your scrunched up face.

“Oh no,” he says quite plainly. Once you’re restrained, he pushes off of the bed and stands up. Again, he hovers over you at your bedside, his body positioned by your hips, facing your head. “We’re quite done here. I’ve filled you with enough of my seed to leave you quenched for a while, surely.”

You grimace as you watch the man’s hand and gaze sweetly trail your body, from your chest down to your lower abdomen.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other the same way again someday,” he remarks. “We have only to wait and watch how things go. But for now, I want you to lay here like this. I won’t have you being so whorish without my permission.”

He retracts his hand and instead brings it to your jaw, clenching it tightly and squeezing either side of your cheeks and lips. His dark eyes sharply flicker toward your face.

“Thank me for fucking you,” he commands. “Evidently I’ve played a role in pushing you toward the direction you’ve gone. I deserve such gratitude.”

“What direction?” You question in annoyance. Lucius’ lips subtly curve into another smirk.

“Attempted bravery. No doubt you are still very weak. I can see it in your eyes. There’s still a remarkable fear behind them. But it seems you’ve changed since you first arrived here. I dislike your measly attempt at fighting, but I suppose I can commend that you even found the courage to try despite my attempts at keeping you in line. It’s not often we see that in our prisoners. Their wills to fight usually shatter easily.”

“I got lucky,” you tell him openly, attempting to humble yourself before the man in the hopes that he won’t hurt you further. “I’m sure.”

“You did,” Lucius affirms. “Evidently my superior is going to allow you to persist in this place. I would much rather see you work for me. I don’t doubt you will someday, if not now. But I will follow my superior and obey his intentions. You are indeed lucky and unlucky all the same. You owe the both of us all your gratitude.”

He again squeezes the sides of your mouth.

“Now thank me.”

Your fists clench as you’re embittered by your lack of choice. As with The Overseer, you swallow your pride and do as told.

“Thank you for fucking me.”

Lucius smiles and watches you with an amused eye.

“Good girl. Now suffer quietly. I have work to do.”

You’re again left behind the curtain, only stuck on your back with your hands completely restricted.

You didn’t really beat the man at his own game, did you? Not even close. You suppose there are worse punishments he could have dished out for your being so stupid behind his back.

He’s still in power, still lords over you. Both men do. But, despite knowing this, you can’t help but feel an immense relief wash over you now that he’s opted to stop fucking you. You’re shocked you were able to face either man so pointedly. Perhaps all you really did was stifle your fear and swallow your pride as you had with The Overseer. Even so, you’re glad to be done with this.

The only problem now is your worries over his impregnating you. You want direly to try touching your stomach again in the hopes of reaffirming that you’re clear, but remain stuck where you are without any mobility. You figure it’s at least better than being raped, though this is still a horrible situation. You’re sure Lucius won’t keep you like this forever, though. He isn’t at all willing to take care of you if he has the option to avoid it.

When next you get fed, or during your next bathroom break, you’re sure you’ll be let loose. If not then, then possibly when The Overseer returns. He’ll want an explanation as to why you’re chained up like this if he sees you, and you doubt Lucius will want to bother being so open, even if he would get off without issue. The man feels the need to hide things from his boss, after all. Evidently he has his reasons not to bother him so much with his transgressions despite knowing his immunity.

You then are left with the lingering question of how long it is you have until your confinement ends. You still have to deal with the uncertainty of your memory as well. But the more you think on it, the less it scares you. Aside from the obvious fear of death, it’s being abused and rendered helpless, being forced to carry a living thing in your body that scares you most of all. Missing memories, you suppose, can be replaced with new ones you make yourself. Even if you have to learn to suffer all over again, you’ll have people who love you waiting to support you. If you’re returned to them, your family will always catch you.

Lav might be proud of you for sticking up for yourself like this. For doing something to keep your own self afloat. Even if it was something she does, her guidance was much appreciated. And, in essence, you tried to do things your own way. If only you could tell her just how much she’s helped you.

Admittedly, your heart is still pounding even now. Just because you could stare Lucius down like that and speak up at him doesn’t mean you’re not still utterly terrified by his sicker, more sadistic tendencies. If he so chose, he could hurt you in horrible ways. But it seems he’s bitterly indulging in The Overseer’s want to keep you alive. Why you’re allowed to live honestly continues to vex you, but right now, you just don’t want to question it.

You lean back against your pillow and let out a long breath.

I’m alive, you again tell yourself. I’m alive….

You repeat this phrase in your head as many times as it takes.

You’re not the strongest of people, but you refuse to let yourself fall. And, finally, you are starting to lift yourself up after a long stretch of nothing but misery. There’s undoubtedly more to come, but just in this moment, you’ll celebrate your little victory. You haven’t been able to fight like this in a long time. If you can handle and put up with these awful men even a little, then you can do much more. All you need to do is try what you can.

The chains holding you against the bed start to dig into your skin a bit, but you try to ignore the discomfort it brings. The Overseer eventually returns as expected, and you watch as his shadow shuffles about. He returns an article of clothing to his cabinet, where he hangs it. A coat, you think.

You find that your assumption was incorrect—you’re not immediately loosened after Lucius’ restricting of your arms even with the emergence of The Overseer. Not like he’d bother checking. He hardly watches you himself to begin with, unless there’s a specific reason for him to.

Even though you can’t touch yourself anymore, you don’t really crumble without the self-affection. The time you could indulge in it was enough to help you, especially since it made you think of someone you loved. It satisfied you enough.

Would Gale compliment you as they had before when they supposedly saw your strength slowly returning? Perhaps they were right to think you were getting a little better. You refused to believe it when they were here. Though, why you would want their approval at all baffles you. Maybe some kind of positive feedback after everything you’ve endured would satisfy you, even if it comes from them.

Even Monica.

She only saw you at your lowest, and never returned to see you adapt to this place. You still worry how she might be should you return. But for now, you put it out of your mind, and lay your head back despite the discomfort of having your arms positioned above it.

Your eyes trail the men’s shadows as they move about, watching them intently.

“What a chore,” The Overseer grumbles in annoyance as he slams a few heavy folders on his desk next. “Did you finish examining the reports I asked you to?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“And the encryptions?”

“Done.”

Lucius then softly chuckles. “Underestimating me?”

The Overseer remains unamused by this teasing and thumbs through one of the folders’ massive stack of papers. Well, you can only really assume it’s massive by the way it sounded with such a heavy THUNK when hitting the desk.

“Relying,” the boss corrects dryly. “Thank you. But we’re nowhere near done. Don’t start slacking off now. You tend to get careless when you’re cocky.”

“Mm,” Lucius hums in a familiar, curious way. “Don’t worry. I’m alert.”

The Overseer scoffs gently as he picks up a file and examines it. His voice lowers significantly.

“Got it out of your system, did you?”

You watch Lucius’ shadow as he folds his arms and leans his lower body back against the console casually. You think he’s looking your way.

“Something like that.”

The men continue on with their work for a while. Your arms become incessantly numb, but you hardly let it bother you. Despite the lingering reality of your confinement, you keep your eyes closed and try to concentrate on holding close to the spark of motivation you still have. You don’t want to let that slip away now that you’ve had a taste of hope again. It’s slipped away far too many times in this place.

You let your mind go blank as you lay there, focusing only on what’s keeping you afloat and wholly ignoring all the physical discomfort and the negative thoughts that have clouded your mind for a long while. Doing this only brings you back to Cyrus somehow, and you question whether this could be considered meditation in some form despite you not having the chance to use your body to channel your energy the way he does.

Perhaps when you’re able to move again, you’ll try mimicking the things he has taught you. You weren’t in the headspace for it before, but now that you’ve done what Lav taught you and found at least a little peace, maybe you’re ready to give his method a try too. You want to be connected to both of your companions.

Your eyes suddenly open when you hear the curtain drawn back sharply, and they flicker to your side only to gaze upon Lucius towering above you with a thick syringe in his hands. He smiles his familiar cold smile, even though there is no hint of desperation on your face that could possibly amuse him. You aren’t sure what he’s up to.

Admittedly, sleep would be nice, but you won’t give the man the satisfaction he’s craving. You simply look upon his dark eyes without expression. Not even anger this time, despite still being phenomenally furious at what he’s done to you.

In your trance, you neglected to really hear any of the conversation between both men, you realize. Only now that it’s been broken do you again hear The Overseer’s voice as he addresses his partner. You glance past Lucius’ and note that the boss is dressing himself in a white coat.

Seeing it now only takes you aback. You knew the man was involved in medicine in some way, especially since he’s been responsible for all the procedures on his prisoners, but you never really pictured him as a doctor in the same vein as his associates. Seeing him dress more formally like one is jarring. Though, you suspect he’s about to perform an operation. Either that, or he’s going to take care of one of the prisoners’ regular injections. You’re sure he must have been doing it now and again when you were unconscious.

As the blond, grey-eyed doctor carefully tugs his white sleeves over his dress shirt, you hear him calling out to Lucius.

“…and do make sure to bring the right documentation this time. I won’t have any more screw-ups. You’re nowhere near old enough for your mind to start failing you. I would know well.”

“My mind is perfectly sharp, boss,” Lucius assures the man. Though he addresses his superior, his eyes remain locked on you, his smile persisting upon his lips. He lowers the syringe in his hand toward you, and you obediently turn your head to allow him to inject you. However, he stops as the needle pokes slightly against the surface of your flesh, the lingering pricking sensation leaving you discomforted.

Your eyes trail back to the right to look up at Lucius, but you’re suddenly distracted by his slight withdrawal from your neck. Despite wanting to ask what it is he’s pulling, you remain silent with The Overseer present and thus bite your tongue.

Lucius raises the syringe to your face and spurts its contents on your cheek, the sudden chemical smell filling your nose and making you cough slightly. The smell is not unbearably harsh, but certainly takes you aback as you weren’t expecting it. You never expected that this form of the drug had a scent at all when the version of it you ingested and inhaled was so odorless. Perhaps this is far more concentrated given its state. The injectable form is, after all, the quickest and strongest method of administration.

The stink of the drug does not much bother you long, though you’re still left taken by surprise at the sudden act of Lucius spurting it in your face. It’s disgusting and harsh. At least the placebo had a much lighter smell to it.

You then hear The Overseer pause his adjusting upon hearing your coughs.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” says Lucius, withdrawing the syringe and smirking even more twistedly at your disgusted reaction. “I’m just about done here.”

“Right. Go fetch a nurse and meet me there,” is The Overseer’s sharp response. “When you’re ready.”

He does not wait for his associate, his hard footsteps resonating on the floor as he paces onward. Though you’d instinctively shut your eyes at the sudden ejecting of chemicals onto your face, you finally open them again and note The Overseer’s blackly gloved hands grabbing hold of a cuff he’s left on the console’s flat, jutting pane. His white-coated frame then turns and heads out the room.

Once his superior has gone, Lucius eyes you and watches as you stare back at him with a stern look. The man hardly bothers to explain his intention to you, nor does he even give a comment toward your attempt at staying strong beneath him. He merely gives a subtle laugh of amusement and leaves you be.

Your curtain shuts, and you watch as Lucius’ shadow drifts away from your bedside. He gathers a few files from the cabinet by his boss’ desk, then heads out of the room. You hear the door lock after it shuts.

Your arms persist in their numb state as you’re left lying there, with the only sensations in them coming when you choose to clench and unclench your fist. Like the static in your head that occurs when you fail to make a connection to an old memory, your arms feel the same when you try to move.

The chemical smell does eventually leave you as it airs out, though your cheek is left fairly dry. You can’t see yourself in a mirror or touch the area with your hands still restricted, but you certainly hope it didn’t warp your flesh somehow.

Lucius surely intended you to suffer on your own in silence for hours in his decision to deny you rest. But, strangely, you only feel relief when you’re alone. It’s a feeling you haven’t been so lucky to have lately, but relish in now.

Without the burden of either man in the room, you lay your head back against your pillow and let out a long breath. You suppose being stuck here like this is going to be awful, but you decide to make the most of it by continuing your weak attempt at meditation. Your eyes close, and you lay perfectly still while breathing slowly and deeply through your nose.

You give a slight smile, thinking of Cyrus instructing you on positions to take while doing this. It’s been another long while since you smiled so honestly. You hope he and the others are holding on okay. Both Gale and Monica’s words of assurance did help, but you’d rather see for yourself.

Silently, you promise the others that you’ll see them again, and you ask them to hold on just a little longer for you. In turn, you promise yourself to try holding on until The Overseer finally decides he’s done with you. No doubt he’s frustrated at how things have turned out, but has allowed you to live. You don’t doubt he’ll just throw you back to Yosuke to be rid of you. Why he didn’t do it sooner remains a mystery, but you figure it’s pointless to ask.

You have no clue what “intentions” he was referring to. You aren’t the least bit special to him or Lucius, yet he’s been far too lenient with you. It’s not at all the case that you’re invincible, though. You know he is willing to hurt or kill you if need be. You can hardly read the man, but you can at least see a piercing coldness in his eyes. Somehow you just know. As it is, neither guardian has any issue abusing you.

It’s sick that you’ve had to respond so obediently to them just to get by. But, like your family has told you, sometimes you just have to do it. It doesn’t make you weak. You refuse to let Lucius or The Overseer or anyone else drill that into your head further.

You’re not strong like some people, but you certainly have come a long way. Maybe you will die in a place like this. You already can’t avoid getting pregnant unless you, by chance, get your memory wiped again and potentially become infertile because of the drug. That may come with its own challenges, but for once, you think you’ll just accept what comes. You’re scared, of course. You have every right to be.

But you don’t feel guilty about it.

Despite the numbness in your arms and the overall discomfort of laying like this for a long time, you eventually do grow tired on your own. For the first time in a while, you find yourself nodding off without the use of the drug. Before you slip away, you let your mind run with thoughts of those you love, and cling dearly onto the hope of seeing them again as you had once before.

Chapter 67: Adjudicate

It’s strange returning to an uninterrupted routine. Lucius hardly bothers you further except to make comments and snidely remark upon your miserable situation. You don’t exactly appreciate the harsh words, but figure that as long as he leaves you alone otherwise, you’ll make do.

Expectedly, he continues to vex you regardless, even denying you the chance to rest with the use of drugs in some moments, when it’s his responsibility to put you out before an outing of both men. Granted, you find that you hardly need the anesthetic to rest anymore. Sleeping on your own has started to feel much better, even if you can’t always induce it. Incrementally doing better doesn’t necessarily mean you’re completely unafflicted. though. The heightened positivity was needed, but has since trickled down into the territory of cautious optimism.

Unfortunately, you still don’t dream much. Most of what you do see are visions of this place or more white walls. You struggle to breathe most times in these spells, like you’re suffocating. This feeling is never fully alleviated until you wake up and suck in long, deep breaths to ensure that you’re still alive and that you’re real.

Though Lucius doesn’t always give you the anesthetic, you know that you can’t really enjoy being free of the drug’s effects forever. When you return, it’ll be back to the usual. Even if you might not remember what the usual is. The anesthetic may even actually affect you normally this time, unless you’re just making a wild assumption. You don’t exactly know how drugs work. You have the feeling it’s Lucius’ job to know how this one works, given how he’s spoken of anesthesia in general.

The Overseer hardly interacts with you after the last time he did. He largely continues to ignore you, in fact. Though, you notice a distinct side glance or two now and then from him. Why this is remains a mystery.

He and Lucius both exit the room quite regularly now, moreso than before. You figure this is because of the new prisoner, but you’ve no clue what exactly the process is for inducting them. All you can really gather is that it takes a lot of time and paperwork. Even the console and it’s loud keys get much more use, you find. There must be a lengthy process of examination, testing, and interviews. You can’t imagine the men would do any kind of recorded interviews with you awake.

Are things awkward with Gale and the two men? If they’re expected to keep helming the interviews, then they’d have to see Lucius and The Overseer both. For them to endure what they had and immediately bounce back—how unthinkable. You couldn’t face that kind of thing so quickly yourself without at least feeling strange about it. Unless of course Gale’s no longer helming the interviews. With you, it was The Overseer. Was there just a change in protocol? Or is something up with you specifically that led the boss to interview you personally?

Thinking of It really gets you nowhere other than in a pit of frustration. It’s another one of those things you likely won’t ever really find out.

As time goes on, Lucius continues to regularly pin and chain your arms to the head of the bed, unwilling to let you do anything helpful to your own mind and body when he’s around. This is immensely bothersome, but you attempt to accept the binding for your own sake. With little choice in the matter, you resort to your flimsy attempt at meditation while lying on your back. Only when The Overseer is in the room do you really get the freedom to move around, and only then do you attempt to genuinely meditate.

It’s difficult to remember fully what Cyrus taught you since it’s been so long. Touching yourself wasn’t exactly something that needed tremendous practice since you knew your own body. Hand gestures and their meanings, however, require more focus and memory.

You start by trying to mimic what you can remember with your hands until something clicks in you that says what you’re doing is correct. Though, most times, you only end up scratching your head about whether you’re remembering correctly, or if you’re assuming that you are. Perhaps you’re just second-guessing yourself too much. But then that only makes you feel bad for not totally remembering something that someone passionate about meditation as a coping mechanism took the time to teach you. You don’t want to think you’re at fault, but you can’t help regretting it. You figure you just need time to let it come back to you.

Your chains rattle quite a bit the first few times you practice, and this only upsets the men, namely The Overseer. Twice, he snaps at you to be quiet while he’s concentrating on his work. You hate being yelled at that way, but always obey.

The easiest hand gesture you can fully remember is one in which you have to curl your fingers and place one hand over the other, with your thumbs touching. The memory of what this was for remains a bit fuzzy, but you want to try it. You sit straight up on your bed, attempting to brush aside the discomfort of sitting cross-legged while naked.

At first, you mimic the gesture, but end up getting a bit distracted by the feeling of your own touch. You wind up holding your hands together gently, cupping each one and curling your fingers between each gap. You’re only reminded of Cyrus, then. He’d held your hand like this when you two messed around together, and even again with Lav. You wish Cyrus were sitting there with you to help guide you on how to do these mudras. But you suppose you’re on your own now. You’ll just have to try your best to do him proud.

After quietly uncupping your hands, you again assume the gesture you intended and sit straight, breathing deeply and slowly for a while. Your eyes close, darkness enveloping your body as you shut out the dim light of the room.

You know it’s probably better to let your mind go blank, but it continues to run even now. The first time you ever tried to meditate with Cyrus, you had the same issue. You do tend to think too much, anyway. But you recall being told that a restless mind is normal for those new to this activity.

What is there to even go over anymore? You’ve been exposed to so much yet continue to understand so little. You can’t rely on Lucius for answers knowing what he’ll do if you attempt to ask any more questions about this place. Asking The Overseer anything is merely out of the question unless he allows it. You’ve been getting lucky learning the things you have, but even that’s not enough. What you’ve learned only tells you what’s happened in this facility, or what certain aspects of life for its other prisoners is like. It tells you nothing about who you are, why you’re here, or how you even got here.

Again, for the first time in a while, you attempt to try piecing your memories together. But when you try, all you get is the same staticy feeling as before. You can only remember things you’ve already seen in dreams or conjured naturally, but you don’t know their significance.

The vows, the wedding, the garden…you’d even mentioned such a garden as a word when interviewed by The Overseer. You recall hearing yourself say the word sunset, too. The sky in your dream was orange, in fact.

It vexes you how close you’re getting to something that you can’t remember. No matter what, you can never fully make the connections you want. There’s only so far you can go before your head starts to feel fuzzy to a point that it actually hurts. Once or twice, your meditation and the concentration you have on it breaks so that you can hold your buzzing head and attempt to recuperate.

Cyrus had said not to linger on it much, that It’s out of your hands. You hate admitting that he’s right. You want to understand. You just never will.

When you return to your initial position, you ask yourself—what are things Cyrus remembers himself? He might not know what the significance of those things are, but surely he must have had some kind of unusual icon or phrase or something come to him. He seemed to know what you were dealing with, after all.

Gale had mentioned that Cyrus had someone in his life that was sick. A family member, they’d said. You wonder if your friend remembers a thing about that person, even indirectly. Was it a parent? Sibling? Aunt or uncle? You can’t quite imagine it. It’d be odd knowing Cyrus had a sibling. You wonder what a brother or sister to a young man like him would be like.

Cyrus hardly seems like a very dependent young man, yet he simultaneously does crave affection and validation like anyone else even if he finds it difficult to admit. Hard to say who such a person in his family might be, then. You have no clue if he might have ever depended on that person.

You wonder what kind of families the other Numbers had too, if any. The only thing you really got out of the feeds was a father to the twins. You wonder if the two were as reliant on their father as they are to one another. But the less you think about how much they’ve been robbed of, the better.

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes shoot open as you’re shaken from your quiet trance. Your head turns to the left where The Overseer now stands, a tray in his hand. The fingers of his other hand are curled tightly around the open curtain, and the man stands there looking down upon you with an unamused stare.

You immediately unfold your legs and outstretch them, shutting away your lower body which had been quite open in such a position.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, clutching the sheet of the bed and looking away sheepishly.

The Overseer merely gives a huff of air from his nose and shoves the tray your way. You take it and obediently start to eat from the dish upon it. It’s some kind of vegetable-based meal.

Your guardian merely watches from above as you quietly dine and avoid looking his way. Even so, you can feel his piercing glare from where he stands. After a long silence between you, he finally speaks.

“You’ve begun mimicking them, now?”

You pause and glance over at him, then give a quiet nod.

“Is there a significant reason for this behavior?”

Is he so dense as to not understand why you might do it? Or does he just want to hear it from you? It’s been implied he struggles to wholly understand the reasons behind certain behaviors, even if he understands the behaviors themselves. Even so, it’s strange that he’s asking you something like this. But you won’t insult him.

“No, sir,” you tell The Overseer quietly. “I’m just trying not to drown.”

“With a coping mechanism that isn’t even yours,” he dryly comments in response. “How odd that you attach yourself to One, of all people.”

You’d like to ask why it’s “odd”, but refrain from doing so and merely keep eating. Luckily, The Overseer catches your hesitance and strangely remarks,

“Do you know there’s a belief that a name can impact one’s life? Their personality, their tendencies? Some have even theorized that it determines one’s job or functionality in the real world.”

He flickers his eyes away in thought. “Perhaps such a principle even applies to your titles. Mere numbers, in your case.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

You remain unsure as to why he’s mulling this over. Is there something wrong with your Number? Does it pertain to the previous Ten? Not like you’ll get an answer, or even a chance to ask.

The Overseer’s grey eyes then again focus on you.

“You don’t strike me as the deterministic type. You live through your perception of will, through your desire to pull through. Not circumstance alone.”

There’s nothing you can much respond to this with. Despite the uncertainty as to The Overseer’s reasons for bringing such a topic up, you don’t bother asking.

Your meditation persists after your strange and brief exchange, with the same mudra being used consistently as you attempt to focus. You can at least recall Cyrus saying it was meant for calmness and stress reduction, though you aren’t sure how long you have to do this for it to really affect you when he’s done it for a long time and still has a restless mind now and then.

The only thing you’re really noticing is a heightened ability to concentrate. The longer you do it, the easier it becomes to tune a lot of outside noise out, though little things do sneak past your barrier of concentration. Sometimes noises, sometimes the distinct odor of smoke as The Overseer lights up a cigarette, and sometimes conversation between the two men guarding you.

The more you’re able to concentrate, the easier it become to sort your thoughts in a way that doesn’t leave you panicked or utterly vexed. Though, you’re not quick to be overly optimistic about your skill in meditation. You’re leagues behind Cyrus since he’s been doing this for a long time. You certainly hope “a long time” doesn’t mean years. You could never imagine being imprisoned here for years upon years of your life.

Thinking on it, it hardly seems as though anyone’s made it all that long here. People always die. If it isn’t circumstance that steals them away, It’s drugs or misery. Nobody from Cyrus’ first group really made it far, it sounds like. You can only imagine how quickly people before them died as well. The only ones who have really persisted in this place are the doctors. Even though they aren’t actual prisoners, they are, in some sense, imprisoned here, even if they don’t really think of it that way. This place is their life now, just as it is yours.

When you were told you’d be stuck in this facility for the rest of your life, you had no idea that such a phrase implied your life would be so short. But what else is there to do but die? Living long here…it’s not exactly fruitful. You don’t will anyone to die in the least, but if someone survives long enough, you can only imagine what horrible fate they must endure after they’re no longer wanted or needed. No doubt The Overseer quickly disposes of the things he doesn’t need.

Though, that only leads you to ask why he didn’t just dispose of you long ago if he hardly wanted you to begin with. There must be something you’re missing. Doubtless you’ll stay in the dark on it until the time comes that you truly are no longer needed. You’re not sure The Overseer tells his prisoners anything when they’re already slated to die, or if he’s generous enough to give them the answers they seek.

Generous. What a stupid word to use. But it’s the only definition you can liken to the merciful act of explanation. For someone like you, not knowing is turmoil. Perhaps there are others like you who feel the same. Alternatively, those who have been here far longer than you probably used to be the same way.

The Numbers seem content where they are now, knowing escape from here is impossible, but you can’t imagine they don’t get curious. You can hardly speak for anyone else. The Letters remain a mystery to you. Even the workers, for as much about them as you know now. You can’t fathom permanently losing your ability to rationalize and think for yourself. The time you spent under the influence of Red Valentine was horrifying enough.

You remember being able to still think for yourself to some extent even then. The workers likely can’t with how much of the drug they get, and for as long as they do. You’ll be generous and presume they live for a few years, but you can’t be sure. It’s disturbing how expendable they’re seen as, even moreso than you other prisoners.

A lot of time passes before you become self-aware of your position again. You’d started to go numb staying still like this for so long. Though, with nothing much else to do and no more interruptions from either man yet, you decide to try a different mudra. You wrack your brain for the memory of what Cyrus taught you, and can only really come up with one in which the pads of your fingers were all pressed together and pointed upward. Only when you actually mimic the gesture does it click in your brain as correct.

A mudra for spiritual strength, you think. That’s something you could use.

You slightly smile to yourself imagining Cyrus sitting before you, guiding you along. For as bad as you feel about not remembering everything fully, you can picture him on the couch, and Lav by your side. You can’t wait to see them again. Even if your memory of them is fractured, you think you’ll still react to the both of them.

There’s only one real reason you remain hopeful of this idea: It seems that emotions do really have some impact on the mind that an eliminated memory can’t change. It’s something you’ve seen in everyone. The Overseer had mentioned upon your being taken away from Yosuke that the others have connections to things they no longer fully remember interacting with. He’d noted hobbies as an example, but you think the principle extends to much more than that. For instance, you can remember fractured symbols and imagery that you can’t much place, but they evidently have sentiment and meaning to you if they’re so prevalent.

It still bugs you, though—why vows? You can’t imagine yourself having been married to anyone. If Yosuke once implied you’d be a good bride, does that mean he knows you weren’t ever one? Was that statement implicit of an unmarried status? You hope so.

You can’t imagine knowing much about weddings. Maybe you attended one or two, or maybe you saw them in films like Cyrus suggested. If you are married, you’d feel guilty loving anyone else the way you do now.

But someone like Five seems to be willing to throw away that kind of thing and leave it in the past, knowing that being aware of something she can’t go back to would only hurt her. If the child she mentioned remembering during her interview was her own, or perhaps a family member of hers, you can only fathom how hard it would be for her to know she’d lost them.

You want her to be happy, just as you want everyone to be happy. If that’s what someone like her prefers, you won’t say it’s wrong. She has the right to want a happiness for herself even if it means leaving behind things that once held meaning to her. You think that’s something people do in general, not just here. Certainly, it must be hard to say goodbye to someone or leave something cherished behind by choice. But sometimes such choices are necessary.

It scares you to think you’ll have to apply this mentality to people you love someday, knowing the impermanence of their existence here. You don’t want to think about them dying, but it’s best you mentally prepare for the possibility too.

No doubt you’d react fearfully to anything horrible happening to your friends. Even Cyrus, for as long as he’s been here and as much as he’s seen, struggles to hide his reactions. He has his own fears and doubts that even his dedication to tranquility can’t quell. He’s very much human, like you.

It’s this thought that you decide to drop off your meditation on. Only when you snap back to reality do you feel a bit of stiffness in your elbows. Evidently you’ve been at this for far too long.

You decide to lie down and wait for your next interaction with either man. Again, The Overseer is the one to approach you with another meal. He doesn’t stand around this time, and instead focuses on a few reports at his desk.

You dine in silence, again letting your mind linger on Charlie a moment as you do. Hopefully, he’s been okay. You can’t help but wonder once more how much longer he has in this place, or what the next chef might be like when he’s replaced. It’d be upsetting if your new friend disappeared before you had a chance to see him again. You want to know how he’s doing, or if he’s managed to make any progress with his communication skills. If his mind degrades further, maybe it won’t, but you’d like to stay hopeful for him.

You feel guilty about thinking this way—casually remarking upon the life of another person. But it can’t much be helped anymore. You won’t say it’s nihilistic, merely something you have to accept the reality of. You still would mourn the man, even though you are well aware of his impending death.

In the middle of eating, you look over at your blond-haired guardian and watch as he hurriedly scribbles on each page before turning to another and skimming it briefly. Upon remembering the image of him wearing his white coat, you wonder what such a man possibly involves himself in if he tinkers with memory.

There are probably a lot of fields related to the mind, but you’d imagine he doesn’t just know one subject in particular. Most everyone in this facility has one specific role, but knows much more than that one thing they do. He and Lucius both. Hitmen, technologists, doctors, the works. It takes a lot to run this place, and especially to maintain the groundwork of its many properties on one’s own. The doctors out in the halls do all the patient work and report to their boss. The Overseer and Lucius, in turn, helm everything and maintain everything else.

In any case, you suppose it takes a lot of knowledge to make a sufficient doctor. It’s incredible that there are even people here who never really got a formal education who still manage to conduct their affairs in a way that pleases The Overseer. Those who weren’t formally trained must have at least had some life experience, or been taught on-site.

How tiresome it must be for the two men in charge here to orchestrate all this. Not like you’re sympathetic to either of them for having to work so much given the nature of their work, but you can only imagine being put through that much and willing yourself to keep doing it. It’s almost torturous. Nobody wants to work that hard by choice, right?

“I don’t much appreciate your incessant staring,” The Overseer suddenly speaks up amidst his writing. His loud voice only shakes you from your thoughts, and almost makes you jump.

“Speak, if you have something on your mind.”

“You wouldn’t indulge it,” you refuse. The Overseer gives a subtle huff of air through his nose, almost scoffing.

“Don’t make such careless assumptions of me,” he says firmly while turning a page. “I have been forgiving before, as I said I can be. Ask your question, girl. If I don’t wish to answer it, I will tell you clearly.”

You swallow a bite of food and continue to watch The Overseer’s rapid scribbling.

“…What do you do?”

“Clarify your question.”

“Your specialty, I mean,” you obey. “What have you studied?”

“Is that so hard to figure out?” He sounds utterly appalled by your stupidity. “I indulge in specific facets of the mind. I’m not a psychologist like Gale, though I know of certain sects of psychology that don’t wholly align with their own particular specialty.”

“But I’ve heard you don’t understand why people do what they do, sir.”

The Overseer pauses his scribbling, then flickers his grey eyes your way. Did you speak out of line?

But luckily, he doesn’t act against your words.

“No, I don’t,” The Overseer does not refute you. You’re glad he’s taken no offense to your comment, though he does return promptly back to his work. “Motivation is difficult to place. It vexes me not to know what drives people even when the answer is so clear. I place duty and obligation on a pedestal, far before wants and desire. It can be a crux in certain contexts, but such values keep me in line.”

It’s odd to hear him speak so much to you without being as commanding as usual. For once, he’s actually talking, not just barking orders or snapping at you. Granted, you’re quite sure The Overseer won’t tell you more than necessary.

“In any case,” he goes on, “it’s Gale who knows far better the tendency of humans than I. I know more of synapses and memory; nerves and neurons, though I don’t expect you to understand what that means other than through contextual derivation. Gale, however, has an acute focus on personality, motivation, social habits, and behavior. These are things I don’t focus on, but that are remarkably important and even complimentary to my own expertise.”

You part your lips to ask more on Gale, but refrain this time. The Overseer nonetheless catches wind of your intention and adds,

“I find value in Gale because of what they give me. They make known what is unknown to me. I need them for their specialty. They, in turn, need me. Now be quiet. I’ll indulge you no further. Be thankful for my willingness to humor you. I’m not in the sourest of moods today.”

“Thank you, sir.” You look away as you continue to eat quietly.

The Overseer says ‘need’ in such a strange way. You’re sure the need he has for Gale is far different than the need he has for someone like Lucius, whom he holds close. With Gale, his need doesn’t stem from sentiment. With Lucius, perhaps it does, because of whatever history both men have. You suspect they met even before starting up this facility, but you can’t entirely tell if they knew each other for even longer, or if their time together extends beyond a professional relationship.

You could never fully know the history of anyone here unless they were to tell you outright, the way people like Jonathan, Nathaniel, and Gale have. Even Yosuke indulged it. Though, the former three only disclosed what they did out of courtesy, whereas Yosuke told you what little he did because you were so insistent on knowing. Provided that his words were true, he indulged you even knowing he didn’t have to.

Thinking about him only worries you again about how he might react to your returning. When next you have a chance to meditate, you think on it quietly in an attempt to refocus your thoughts and downplay your fears.

What’s worried you more than anything about returning to your doctor is the possibility that he might get bored of your demeanor. If you fight him so much, he may treat you like Eight and discard you. Of course you don’t expect that The Overseer will grant him amnesty and allow the man some new, tailor-made plaything after what he pulled, knowing how it might affect him and how it might make him disloyal like others. You supposed Yosuke might be stuck with you for that reason once, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t find an outlet, or settle for some other thing to please him.

What will befall you if you do get discarded? Who would be your doctor?

If you could choose, you might prefer the three kinder doctors you’ve come to know. If Monica’s preferences weren’t so unknown to you, maybe you’d even pick her. You’d rather deal with a woman anyway, knowing your impregnable state.

This only reminds you of your want to touch your abdomen again, but you refrain this time. You decide to save it for until after you’re done meditating. As it is, you haven’t noticed any real changes when you’ve done it lately. It’s come as a relief, really.

As more time passes, you find it easier to maintain a sense of stillness and calm. Even when your heart beats a bit quickly at the sight of The Overseer or Lucius, and even when you shake slightly in your unease, you’re able to hold together much better mentally. As you’ve said, you can’t always help the physiological responses to fear. You know that when the time comes to be afraid, you still very much will be. While you’re getting a better hold on your feelings, you aren’t completely in the clear. You can do no more than keep at it.

Despite your slight progress, you find that this room and your confinement is still so draining. That tiredness hasn’t really gone away and probably won’t even after you’ve returned to your routine outside this room. You expect that adjusting back into such a routine and regaining your energy will take time. But you know with certainty that the others will help you get fully back on your feet.

There are a few moments in which Lucius has to bathe you, and you find that these baths remain uncomfortable ordeals even with all the expectations of Lucius you have. The first few baths are silent, but periodically your guardian will make his usual remarks toward your emotional state or your inability to fight what comes your way. It becomes tiresome, but you force yourself to quietly deflect his verbal blows. You can already handle The Overseer’s own disgust toward you. This should be no different.

You wind up having to clean yourself most times, with Lucius only supervising you to make sure you don’t do something stupid or attempt to pleasure yourself. Ever since he caught you, he’s refused to let you do it again. You won’t try your luck at doing it around The Overseer anymore either, so you’re left purely with Cyrus’ method of coping. Though, you’re glad to have gotten closer to Lav when you did, even if in such an odd way.

During one moment alone with Lucius, you quietly clean your arms with a soapy washcloth and sit in a tub of cold water. Lucius refuses to let you have any warmth here that you actually want, naturally.

You’re in no mood to talk, but Lucius continues to peck at you.

“Do you think you’re winning some battle?” He questions. “My boss mentioned you attempting to meditate around him.” He scoffs. “Of all things.”

“Does it bother you?”

“It’s a pitiful gesture, I find,” is the dark-haired man’s prompt response. “Gale made such a big deal about you being less dependent, and you go and act so dependently. It’s quite laughable how much you want to think you’ve changed when your tactics of dependency have merely shifted. You’ve only gotten a tinge bolder in your attempts at bravery. I commended it prior, but the act does get a bit old after a while, you know.”

It bugs you knowing that Lucius listened carefully to every word of your conversation with Gale. Perhaps he was looking for fodder to irk you with. You’re also left fairly miffed at his constant insulting of you even with how accustomed to it you’ve gotten. Not like you can do anything to alleviate it.

“What do you expect?” You question him in annoyance. “What can I do chained to that bed? Especially when you completely restrict any movement I have? I’m limited.”

“Have you any clue what you can do on your own if you return?”

“You mean when. When I return.”

Lucius frowns. “Will it be the same you that returns, though?”

“That I don’t know for certain,” you admit, looking off to the side. “It’s out of my hands, as most things about my fate are.”

“Mm,” Lucius hums thoughtfully. “Do tell me how your abdomen is doing, princess.”

This makes you grimace slightly, which amuses your guardian. He gives a slight smirk watching your quiet recoiling.

“It still strikes such a nerve with you,” he remarks coyly. “How unfortunate.”

“I’ve told you I can’t help my fear,” you retort. Anger rises in you, yet you attempt to keep calm and collected. “I’ll find a way to cope. I’ve promised to.”

“Oh? Promised who?”

“Myself. I have nobody to make promises to otherwise while here.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Lucius attempts to dampen your spirits further. “There’s nothing that you’ll be able to do when every activity or thing presented to you has been something you’ve struggled with. Unless of course you know something I don’t.”

You look over at the dark-haired gunman with a raised brow. “What do you mean? Is there something I know?”

This causes Lucius to smile coldly again. “I suppose it was a pointless remark. Granted, I know a bit about who you were before all this. Only we know the old you—what you liked, your daily schedule, everything about your friends and family. I have the answers you so desperately want. But you’ll have none of them. Perhaps you were once quite good at something that could actually help you survive here. Or perhaps you were an untalented, unmotivated nobody. It’s not something you’ll ever have the luxury of knowing.”

“I’m aware.”

Lucius laughs. “Suddenly so obedient and humble. As if I believe it.”

“I am trying to be obedient to you both,” you refute him. “But obedience doesn’t mean acceptance, you know. I still hate not knowing who I am. And I especially hate you. I hate you both so, so much.”

“That means little to us, princess.” Lucius tilts his head. “Do you want to yell at us? Tell us that we’re evil? Surely you don’t think there’s room for morality in a place like this. Though, it seems some of the people employed here do cling to lingering moral values even while indulging in their desires selfishly. But I do think ethics has no home here. We’re in pursuit of our own knowledge. Doctors, scientists, all of us are curious that way. There’s no reason to hold back in order to learn what we want.”

“Knowledge? Learning? What exactly are you doing with-”

“Do shut your mouth now about it,” Lucius interrupts you with a feigned sweetness and a calm smile. “That’s hardly your business. My point is that you can’t expect us not to take the opportunity to move forward, even if we must do awful things to do so.”

You lower your brows. “So you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“I see our methods more as a necessity. I understand that they’re objectively wrong and socially unacceptable, but progress is progress. Many people don’t much understand that by throwing away certain facets of your morality, you can achieve much more than you ever could while hindered by manmade rules and expectations. This is a philosophy I learned very early on, but took years to fully accept and implement.”

Your eyes shift away as you think on this a moment.

“There are ways to make progress without being so horrible,” you firmly tell him. “I can’t fathom why you’re like this. What, do you have issues with your father as well? Family drama of your own? A traumatic past that forced you into this mentality?”

“Don’t go bringing up the things you overheard,” Lucius casually warns you. He folds his arms. “You have no right. Don’t think that you can make me budge by attempting to take a shot at my own personal life either. If you want to play detective, then allow me to make things simple: My father was shot to death when I was young, and I took his responsibilities as the only male child of my family. I didn’t much like his tendencies, but I won’t say I hated him. Is that enough for your prying curiosity?”

It’s not clear whether he’s telling the truth. You can’t really read him with his calm, cold smile.

“And your mother, while you’re at it?” You scoff.

“Dead. Died shortly after. Hardly important now, don’t you think?” Lucius remarks, his dark eyes still fixated on you. You were partly just making a bitter remark because you thought Lucius was just throwing something out to appease your curiosity. You didn’t expect a genuine answer, even if it was a short one. It almost takes you aback.

“What exactly is your goal in trying to know me?” is your guardian’s next critical inquiry. “You keep attempting to make sense of who I am and why I act this way as if you know a thing about how to understand people.”

“You know the answer. It’s just curiosity,” you tell him. “I know it gets me nowhere.”

You then scowl. “Do I have to pay for that information too?”

“You say that as if you want me to charge you,” Lucius retorts with a smirk. “No, I’ve already parted with my interest in toying with you. It’s for the best.”

“You mean it’s for him.”

Lucius chuckles privately to himself over some thought. “Yes, I suppose. But don’t get cocky now, princess. Touching yourself a few times and meditating poorly has made you a tinge more mouthy than usual. Be careful with that, or you might get hurt again. Understand?”

You sigh. “Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

Lucius raises a brow. “Leave the ‘sirs’ to him. I care little for honorifics. I suppose that’s odd coming from someone who earned their title of doctor through hard labor. Doctors tend to be so finicky about their titles. I never much understood it. My formal dedication is to my craft, not my rank. But I suppose the perks of my rank aren’t at all anything to complain about.”

He then looks back at you after his eyes started to mindlessly wander.

“Now get out of there already. Your oh-so fragile skin is pruning.”

Lucius’ remark about his past life does not sit easily with you during your next bout of quiet behind your curtain veil. It’s likely important not to overthink it, but you can’t help but wonder how much of his personality was shaped by the deaths of his mother and father, if what he said was true. You have no reason to suspect he’d lie about something like that when he didn’t seem to think much of it. He’s a bit loose about those kinds of things, you’ve come to learn. You wanted to ask why he’d tell you something so personal so frivolously, but you suppose he’s far more secretive of his boss and this facility than he is of his own self.

Lucius has always tended to tell you things he thinks are insignificant to know, and this is one of those things that has no bearing on you or the protocol of this place. But based on his casual remark about his parents, you wonder whether his relationship with his family wasn’t good. You’d care very deeply if you lost your own family, provided you even had one. You can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t be upset about it, unless their parents were horrible people to some degree. But of course, you’ve been told humans are complex. Lucius’ entire history and drive are probably not things you can place by just one or two sentences of explanation.

Trying to imagine having either a mother or a father of your own only makes your head go numb. Only when you start to question and doubt yourself again do you resort to changing the mudra you use. Another comes to your mind in a clearer moment, one in which your thumbs must touch your forefingers and your hands must rest upon your knees. You don’t much remember what it’s for, but somehow know that it might help. You recall it more strongly now that you can remember the image of Cyrus making it. You’d even attempted to join him in it once.

Putting aside the things you cannot know about yourself, you then linger to thoughts of The Overseer. He’d mentioned knowing the difficulty of fathers when referring to Milos’ drunken ramblings about his own, and so you presume this means he had a pretty rough childhood. Or at least, he must have had a rocky relationship with his own father. Perhaps it makes sense, then, that The Overseer would be so callous. Impatient. Cold. It’s why you assumed Lucius must have had family issues if he was so horrible. It’s the only reason you really brought it up.

What of The Overseer’s mother, you wonder? If he acted at all similarly in his youth the way he does as an adult, you’d figure any woman would have a hard time raising someone like him, provided there was any woman at all in the family. You can’t really know if either The Overseer or his companion were gentler or kinder in their youth. You’re starting to suspect that’s not exactly the case, the longer you’re stuck with them.

Your next meal is with Lucius, though he doesn’t keep your wrists pinned to the head of the bed. He allows you more movement so that you can eat, which you do in a bitter silence as always. The man merely sits and watches you, not having much paperwork to do right now.

“You look angry,” he remarks upon examining your face. “Do I upset you with my mere presence?”

“I’m thinking,” you answer quietly. “Will you attempt to read my thoughts on top of everything else?”

“You’re full of many, I presume,” Lucius comments. “But I’m not as interested in your thoughts as others might be. I can predict just what kind of thought processes you have, though. You prisoners tend to get predictable. I don’t know how Gale finds differences in you.”

You brush aside this jab and focus on his other statement. “Not as interested as others? Do you mean Gale? Or your boss?”

“Hm? Why ask?”

“Your boss mentioned being involved in the mind,” you answer honestly between bites of food. “I figure he must care how we think, whereas Gale focuses on what we think.”

Lucius raises a brow. “He mentioned that?”

“He did say he was in a rather giving mood.”

“Then don’t get so cozy with it. You know full well what it’s like to be on his bad side. I suppose, though, that he’s temporarily warmed up to your obedience of him. But don’t expect him to treat you so kindly all the time.”

You say nothing and continue to bite into your food quietly. Lucius chuckles.

“I’m glad to see our pushiness with you has gotten you to a more preferable state of docility, even if it is a state I don’t fully believe” he remarks. “Calling him ‘sir’, humbling yourself before him, speaking only with permission. You’ve learned to throw yourself at his feet. Even with me, even when you’re lippy, you straighten right up when you have to.”

“I’m not that way by choice. You’ve pushed me where I don’t want to be,” you quietly respond. “I was cornered and had to accept things on my own. But you can’t push people forever. Someone will eventually push back.”

Saying these words aloud sparks something in your mind. You think you wrote similar words to Yosuke before you were brought here.

Lucius raises his fractured brow. “And will that be you?”

“You know it won’t be,” you say with certainty. Even if you wanted to fight back, you’re hardly in any position. The best you can do, and the best you have done, is keep yourself from drowning. You’re accepting your role here; you’re accepting the things you can’t control. There’s hardly much else you can do right now. You’re not exactly the courageous type, nor bold, nor daring. You talk, but you don’t much bite.

Could you ever?

“You say it so certainly,” Lucius notes dryly. “You won’t even try? You already reached for my gun once.”

“Do you really want me to try?” You ask him. “You make such a big deal about my obedience that I’m shocked you’d even suggest that. Besides, I only did what I did then in desperation. I don’t think clearly when I’m scared.”

“I’m well aware. You are the desperate type. How precious it is when you people beg for your own life.”

You huff air through your noise a bit before shutting up entirely about the subject. The continuation of Lucius’ pecking only leaves you irked. Though, perhaps that’s better than complete defeat. Nonetheless, you continue on with your dining, letting silence again fall upon the room. Lucius’ persistent dark stare does not at all ease your mind.

Evidently it’d be hard to handle such a man after being put through what you were because of him. It’s troublesome. Your attempt at picking yourself back up only left him bored, something that should be relieving, but isn’t really. It’s still awful here. Nothing’s changed but your own perspective.

Confinement here has indeed backed you into a corner. You’d hate to say pain made you better at the expense of sounding self-righteous. If anything, it’s made you a little wiser to this place. Like Cyrus, you know a lot that must be kept quiet, and like Lav, you’re able to face things more readily. Again, her level is unreachable for someone like you, but you think there’s been remarkable improvement. So long as you stay somewhat positive about it, you think you can pull through. Not only because of necessity, but because of your own incessant and stubborn will. You defy that which attempts to drag you down even after letting it drag you down a little.

Evidently that’s what the men watching over you are so fascinated and simultaneously disgusted by. Lucius wants you broken. The Overseer, however, wants something you can’t place. Maybe not even from you specifically, but in general. But other than the want—rather, the expectation—for loyalty and respect, his desires escape you.

Not like it will much matter when you go back to your friends. Though, this thought again makes your mind wander to…

“Do you think Yosuke will abandon me?”

“Huh?” Lucius gives a genuine look of confusion one dark brow lowers. You realize how out of the blue your inquiry was. You didn’t even really mean to say it aloud.

“What a sudden question. Why care to ask me? I know very little of the man beyond interacting with him professionally. And, of course, all the tabs I have to keep on him as I do all our employees.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m thinking aloud.”

“I see. If you want my honest word about it, I think it doesn’t much matter. I only really know that I have to keep a sharp eye on him, especially if his interest in you remains intact.”

“I’m sure you heard what Gale said. He’s not exactly happy I’m gone.”

“Yes,” Lucius does not deny this. “But you asked whether I think he’d abandon you. I’m only saying that I don’t know, nor do I care. Work is work.”

“He said he wouldn’t just toss me aside,” you remark, thinking back on old conversations with your doctor. “But I don’t know if he’ll like how I’m acting now. You certainly don’t.”

“Am I hearing that you’ve likened me to your own doctor?” Lucius laughs amusedly. “Really?”

You sigh. “You’re not exactly the same, but there are similarities. But that’s beside the point.”

“There is no point here,” Lucius tells you without playing coy any further about the subject. “You ask if he’ll abandon you when you know quite well what the answer is already. Either way, I care so little of what Yosuke does personally, as long as he doesn’t upset my superior further. That man has his role, and we expect him to play it, even if that role hardly impacts what goes on down here.”

“Is that what makes you tick? When people upset the man you’re so close to? That’s a bit hypocritical when you constantly go behind his back yourself.”

“Again, you’re speaking presumptuously,” Lucius warns. “I do often go behind his back, but I at least have the courtesy to hide things that will upset him. There are times where I simply don’t knowing that it’s better he be made aware of a particular issue. But I keep quiet about quite a lot.”

You scowl. “To save your own skin?”

“Out of respect, and for his sake” is your guardian’s annoyed, corrective response. “I’ve always protected him. It’s become second nature for me.”

Always?

“Don’t attempt to interpret something you don’t already understand. I am quite lenient about many things, but I absolutely won’t be with this. No more discussion about it now, Ten.”

Your eyes drop to the side again upon the mention of your Number. Lucius’ usual calm, coy nature is now ladened with a quiet, strict displeasure. You won’t push him further. The only humble response you can muster is,

“I’m sorry.”

The Overseer returns to the room a while after this, though you try to continue with your meditation. Both men discuss what you think is the new prisoner, but you can’t quite tell. They constantly reference files by numbers and acronyms, so none of it much makes sense. Your only clue that connects their conversation to the new prisoner is a rather quick and quiet mention of the need to start with a procedure soon. Unless they’ve taken someone else, you’re sure this has to do with who you think.

You wonder why it is The Overseer has this operation. And why so fascinated by the mind? Why focus on memory specifically? It equally as puzzling why he allows his underground employees to abuse the facility’s prisoners. It hardly makes sense. You can’t really place what The Overseer does other than the things you already know he does. Your only guess based on everything you’ve come to learn is that he’s experimenting on you somehow, but you’ve no clue what kind of results The Overseer is expecting by doing so.

How long has this operation gone on, anyway? With the way both your guardians spoke to one another, and spoke of people like Lilah, Mom, Milos, and Gale, you’re very sure it’s been going on for a long time. But with little frame of reference to time in a place like this, you can’t exactly imagine the length on your own. You suppose this has gone on for years, or has taken many years to fully establish, however long it is that years are.

Has anyone you know been here for years? You certainly hope not. The other Numbers have said nothing to indicate bombastic passages of time. People like Sienna were affected by this place so quickly, from what Cyrus said, though you’d imagine enough time passed for everyone to grieve, interact, and attempt to cope before someone else was affected and consequently taken by the facility, their body and their identity lost wholly to it. It’s hard to be sure.

Were the others that much younger when coming here? You really have no idea how old anyone even is. How old you are, even. The way some of the Numbers act is sometimes immature, and yet simultaneously mature. They’re capable of rationalizing their feelings and doubts in ways you aren’t sure much younger people would. But, you really have no frame of reference for age, since it is very much a time-related measurement.

Perhaps Gale knows about age and behavior, but you’d be a little hard-pressed to ask them questions about their field for the sake of understanding concepts you don’t. Maybe they’d really like having someone to talk to about it, but there’s also a lot you probably shouldn’t be told. Undoubtedly whatever textbooks there are in the library that discuss such subjects are equally as censored as normal stories. But you’re surprised they’re even there at all. Eight would know better than you about it, of course.

Variables. You repeat this word in your head, mimicking Gale’s telling of it to you. They mentioned introducing variables into this place, things that change outcomes and behaviors. You don’t doubt your group is the most jovial of the many that have been here. The Overseer, Lucius, and anyone else who have referred to you as “spoiled” were not wrong that you have so many luxuries here. You can hardly imagine trying to survive emotionally in a place like this without some kind of activity or thing to distract you.

A plain room, dirty gowns, bare minimum regulation, and a volley of horrible drugs. That must have been hell for the first groups. It almost shatters your heart dwelling on the idea, but you try to keep your head high and not let your sense of dread stir from such thoughts. You’re hardly short on sympathy for those who have fallen here, but you also know that there’s nothing to be done about what’s happened to them.

If The Overseer is indeed running some kind of experiments on you, then he’d better be sure his results are worth it. If this operation does dissipate, whether because it’s discovered or because its leading man no longer needs it, you worry just what fate prisoners who are still here will face. Will The Overseer grow bored and have them all killed?

You question whether you’ll really live to see this facility go under. Even if you did die for no reason other than that The Overseer grew tired of this place and wanted to purge it, you’d be glad knowing that he wouldn’t torment any more people.

Granted, awful things will always persist in the real world. It’d be unrealistic to wish everything bad away. If men like The Overseer exist here, then there’s no way there aren’t more men like him. Though, you aren’t sure just how many places there are out there even remotely like this. It’s horrifying to think of. And as it is, some people’s luck is unfortunately bad. One could easily escape entrapment only to be ensnared by something entirely different. There are also so many people who have it much worse than you do. With all these favorable amenities, even if they’re there just to change your behavioral outcomes, you’re much too fortunate.

As you meditate further, you continue to ponder The Overseer’s intentions in this facility. The longer you dwell on memory and the procedure he carries out on his prisoners and the drug he uses, the more you come to realize you’ve not had another shot. You recall being told they were supposed to be quite regular. Regardless of however long your confinement here has lasted and your inability to tell time, you’re fairly certain that it’s been enough time to at least have another follow-up shot.

You casually bring this up to Lucius next you’re alone with him, during a bath. Conversing with the man is impossible with his boss around, and it’s certainly not at all pleasant knowing about him what you do now. But, admittedly, he’s the only chance you have to talk to another human being. Chatter with an awful person isn’t preferrable, but you’d rather have some chatter than none. It, like your meditation and your previous attempts at masturbation, does keep you sane.

“We decided to wait on it,” is Lucius’ only response to your question. “Don’t sound so eager.”

You bathe in silence after this, moving quickly so as not to waste Lucius’ time. When you’re out of the tub and start drying yourself off, he watches you with a dark eye. He eventually speaks again.

“It seems your assumption was correct. You may well be going back soon,” Lucius casually remarks, making you pause in the middle of patting out your hair. You look over at the man with wide eyes, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden statement. However, you refocus your attention and keep wary.

“You’re just stringing me along, aren’t you?”

Lucius smiles. “Not so. He’s gotten pretty sick of you. I think he’d like to get back to his normal routine for once.”

“Did he decide that Yosuke’s ‘learned his lesson’?”

“In a manner of speaking. But don’t bother asking about him. You’ll find out how he’s been soon,” Lucius answers openly.

You shift your eyes down to the floor. Your heart beats rather heavily as you process this. Can it be real? Are you really free from here? If so, that only leaves the issue of your memory—will The Overseer take it? Is that why you haven’t gotten your shot?

“Don’t let your mind run too hard now, princess,” Lucius remarks upon seeing your quiet panic. “It won’t do you much good.”

You suppose it’s better not to overthink this. Whatever comes is hardly up to you anyway. It’s just hard to help wanting to piece together the possibilities of what might happen. If your memory remains, what will that mean for you and how you interact with the others? Will it burden you to shoulder the responsibility of knowing what you do? Will you be careless and speak about something you shouldn’t out of stubbornness or foolishness?

The alternative worries you all the same. It’s less the principle of losing your memory again that scares you now that you’ve come to accept that your family will be there to help you. No, what’s most horrifying is what you might be after another procedure. Sienna’s personality changed so drastically from what you were told. What if you’re even sadder? Angrier? What if you become something the other Numbers don’t like anymore?

How horrible it would be to become someone entirely new. As it is, you’ve no clue who you were before this—were you stronger? Wiser? Or were you a worse person than who you are now? Perhaps even weaker?

Granted, people simply do change in time. Cyrus apparently can attest to that. Even he was aware he’s become far gentler with time, compared to his old self. If his memories were messed with because of the previous Ten, then that personality change could also be partly because of the procedure. You wonder if everyone’s been affected the same way. They all have no memory of the previous Ten, after all.

It’s probably pointless to worry over this now. As you’ve just said, it’s out of your hands. You will simply have to take what comes your way. After gathering your wits and calming yourself down, you ask Lucius something in an attempt to deflect his teasing.

“And you? Are you tired of me too?”

This question only makes the man give a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wholly agree with my superior, though I’ve found this break in routine a tinge more entertaining than he. You’re a frustration to take care of—I’m not one to baby or coddle my patients like some doctors. But even that doesn’t dampen the positives.”

He smirks. “Tormenting you was quite fun.”

You don’t much yearn to further this discussion after Lucius’ coy words. When you return to the bed, you again focus on meditating and sorting your thoughts. Your nerves remain a bit shaken after receiving confirmation form Lucius about your eventual release. Even if it isn’t for a little while longer, it must be soon. You can’t much help the creeping nervousness that comes with it.

The cycle you’ve come to know persists, with your guardians both working around you and only occasionally puling the curtain back to take care of this or that for you. Your stomach constantly flutters nervously whenever they do now that you’re expecting any emergence of either man to be the one where they say, “that’s enough” and take you away.

Being brought here came so suddenly, though you’re not sure going back would be just as quick a process. You wholly expect The Overseer to test you one last time, or for him to threaten you somehow. If not that, then he may very well just up and decide to whisk you away to an operation theater to perform his usual procedure.

The thought only makes your nervousness grow. Every time you’re drugged with the anesthetic now, you wonder if you’re going to wake up a different person, or wake up knowing nothing at all. Your heart pounds incessantly every time you see the shadow of either man approach your curtain.

Relief always comes when you wake up in the bed again, even when you wake up chained tightly as per Lucius’ latest preference. Any time you aren’t bound this way, you continue to meditate and try to cope with your fear. The mudra you’d used for such doubtful thoughts is the one you stick with for quite some time, until you can bring yourself to quell your bustling thoughts to some degree. You’re sure they won’t leave you fully until the day you do return to the others.

Though, this only brings you to another uneasy thought—how will Yosuke react to your letter when you come back? It’s been so long since then that it’s hard to remember specifically what was said or how you phrased it, but you do at least know the general sentiment. You had something to tell your doctor then. You remember feeling so frustrated at him and at being toyed with constantly. So, you said what you had to. You even recall implying your attachment to Cyrus and Lav, even if you didn’t explicitly state them by name.

Perhaps he’ll be livid. Maybe he’ll punish you immediately when you return before he embraces you again. Or it could be the other way around. Of course, nothing he might do to you could be any more awful than what The Overseer and Lucius have put you through. The only problem is that you have an attachment to Yosuke, whether you want to admit it or not. It’s hardly a sentimental one, rather it’s a circumstantial intertwinement, one that you were once almost foolish enough to invest yourself in.

Regardless of how you view Yosuke now, you still have to rely on him to take care of things you can’t. Physical injuries and bodily maintenance, among other things. Companionship isn’t on that list for you, though. You have people to act as companions to you now. Even if what you have with Cyrus and Lav isn’t a formal relationship, it’s certainly so much more than just friendship. You’ll admit that much.

Your eyes open during one instance of quiet meditation when you think of this. You look down at your hands and slowly start to bring them together, one holding the other by the curling of fingers. You do this lightly at first, remembering Cyrus’ constant holding of you. He’s lifted you up many times, quite literally speaking. You almost want to laugh remembering him helping you off the floor. Perhaps it’s a mundane thing to find happiness in, but it means the world to you.

The gesture sparks another memory of his lesson—this is another mudra, you think. Your fingers instinctively tighten their grip, the bond between both hands strengthening as you place them before your body.

A gesture of inner strength, you recall. You’d almost forgotten…

You gasp then as your attention is broken by the loud sound of the curtain being pulled back by The Overseer. You’d not paid attention to his presence here due to your concentration. But now, you face him again.

He doesn’t look pleased.

Quickly, you close your legs and straighten them out, then drop your hands. You don’t address the blond man on your own, rather awaiting his own word patiently, if with nervousness in your heart.

Your eyes shift toward the console behind him, where you see a folder lying flat on the edge. It’s spilling with bits and corners of white paper, though not nearly enough for you to see any text on them. Not like you could make out anything from here anyway.

When your gaze returns to The Overseer, and you stare into his grey eyes, you start to worry. Something about his face is different than usual. He’s concentrating on something and simultaneously bitter all at once. Even with his expressionless face, you can just tell something’s off.

In his hands, you find, is the key to your shackles. The sight of it makes your heart beat even more wildly, to a point that you hear your own pulse thickly in your ears. You try to keep your breaths steady and deep all the same, sucking them in through your mouth.

The Overseer says nothing, but looks as if he’s awaiting your move. Not knowing what else to do, you sheepishly present him with your wrists. There’s no cuff in sight of him your guardian so it puzzles you. If he intended to ferry you somewhere, he’d have cuffed you instead. But without one present, you have no clue what to expect.

The Overseer says nothing and flickers his eyes down to your presented shackles as he moves to open them. The down-facing backside of your hand is cupped in his own as he holds each arm steady so that he can free it. Feeling the flesh of his fingers and palms brushing against your own skin is unnerving. You instinctively ball your hands into fists as the man unchains you. Even with the sudden release of pressure around your wrists as the shackles fall one by one doesn’t do much to alleviate the pit in your stomach.

Once you’re free, The Overseer tucks the key away in his pocket and goes back to his console. He says nothing to you at all, leaving you alone to ponder on his intentions. He even keeps the curtain open.

Despite the allowed mobility, you don’t budge from your place. You hold yourself tightly and monitor The Overseer closely instead, awaiting what he may do. The uncertainty unwinds your tranquil state quite easily, but you try as hard as you can to keep it intact to some degree for your own sake.

“Has Lucius told you my intention?” The Overseer suddenly calls out, his back remaining turned to you as he eyes the screens before him. They’re displaying data of some kind, but you can’t really make it out.

“…Yes sir,” you acknowledge him quietly.

“Did he say why?”

“He mentioned you were tired of me.”

The Overseer gives a bit of a short huff through his nose. You can’t make out his expression from here.

“You’re a tiresome girl,” he remarks. “I accepted what bringing you here meant, but I didn’t think things would go quite like they did. Nonetheless, I will give you but one commendation on your newfound obedience. Even if it is only an act out of desperation.”

He then reaches over and takes hold of the folder by him, its tussling pages and thick outer layer lightly gliding against the surface of the console. The Overseer turns and glances at you, then beckons with his other hand, curling a finger toward himself.

“Come,” he commands. Your heart jumps hearing his beckoning call, but you ask no questions and obey. You rise from the bed and step toward him, still holding your arms tightly in your nervousness. Your eyes don’t once leave the man’s face. His body is outlined in bright light from the console’s screens, whereas the rest of him is bathed in a dim, almost bluish shadow. It’s a haunting sight.

“Kneel,” is his next prompt command. He points down to the floor. His grey eyes follow your shape as you obediently kneel before him. There’s a bit of space now, between you and his feet.

You hang your head and shiver slightly, the “what-if’s” buzzing in your head incessantly as you try to figure out what it is The Overseer is planning to do. Though, you’re sharply interrupted by the loud sound of something hitting the floor, a sound that causes you to jump just slightly and give a light gasp.

When your eyes move upward a bit, you see the folder on the floor between both you and The Overseer.

“You began your time here as nothing but a frustration to me,” the man’s deep voice calls out. “You also have a bad habit of leading people astray for reasons I cannot understand. You’ve been nothing but a nuisance, and yet I’ve persisted in caging you up like a bird for the sake of teaching a lesson to both you and your doctor, who I once respected.

“Nonetheless, Ten, I will extend my kind hand and allow you the thing you want most. Despite everything, I’ve noted your progress. Though you are still a magnet for unnecessary attention, you’ve learned to obey. To adapt. So I’ll give you this.”

You don’t bother to lift your head up to look at The Overseer. Your gaze remains affixed to the folder.

“What is it?” You ask lowly, attempting to remain humble. The Overseer remains quiet a moment as he no doubt observes you, but you still keep your head low.

“Your file.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of these words. You had figured he’d say as much, yet it still takes you aback to hear this said aloud. Your mind then starts to run even further with more questions—if he’s giving this to you, if he’s letting you have this thing you have wanted for so long, then does that mean he really is going to…?

“Go on,” The Overseer urges you. “You’ve hounded everyone over your curiosity about who you are. Pried incessantly. Will you not take the opportunity when it’s finally given to you?”

You hesitate, still widely eyeing the folder on the hard floor. Your head starts to get a pulse of its own with how hard your heart is pounding. This can’t be real. This has to be a trick. If The Overseer is giving this to you, then that must mean he’s made up his mind about your memory too, right?

God, you can’t focus. Why? You know there’s something wrong with this gesture. The Overseer wouldn’t just let you have something like this. There must be something…

Despite everything, one of your hands drops from its clutching of your other arm and reaches out at a slow pace toward the paper-laden file. This hand refuses to stop shaking.

Before your fingers can even graze the top of your file, you force yourself to stop.

This is wrong. This isn’t real, you tell yourself. It’s just a trick. Don’t be stupid now!

You linger atop the folder without touching it for quite a while. You don’t really even know how long, but The Overseer doesn’t once snap at you for it. Strangely, he remains patient. You can’t see his face, nor do you intend to focus on it now. The only focus you have is on the thing before you.

No, you finally decide. I shouldn’t.

After a copious silence, you finally make your decision and retract your hand. Again, it curls around your other arm, and you continue to hold yourself.

“I won’t,” you refuse, your breath slightly shaking as you remain in your shivering state. “I’m not allowed to know. It’s not my place.”

“Hm,” The Overseer quietly makes a noise. You hear the light shuffling of cloth and the faint sound of metal clinking about. Your head immediately shoots up then in a slight panic as you recognize the noises, only for your eyes to sharply focus on The Overseer with his arm bent, his dark revolver pointed upward as he’s retracted it. Your eyes widen further as you realize he’d likely pointed the thing at you and awaited a reason to pull the trigger.

You knew he’d attempt to test you one more time. Yet you almost let yourself fall for his trick. Your heart continues to pound as you eye the revolver, and your throat closes up as you try to accept that, yet again, you could have gotten yourself killed.

But you didn’t.

“Very good,” The Overseer lightly praises you, though his voice hardly sounds genuinely impressed. As ever, its tone remains flat and stern. “You’ve always had the capacity to restrain yourself, yet you grew spoiled fighting the other doctors that you even kept the habit up here. I didn’t much appreciate it, girl.”

He then places his revolve beside him, back on the console’s flatter jutting edge, and folds both his arms. He leans back against the console and eyes you with his grey gaze.

“You may open it this time,” he permits. “Genuinely. I won’t shoot.”

Is this another trick? It has to be.

“Go on.”

The Overseer remains insistent, repeating the same words as before. You aren’t sure what the right move is here. But, not wanting to make him snap at you, the only thing you can try is to obey. So, you again move one hand forward and reach toward the folder. This time, you look up at The Overseer as your hand hovers atop the smooth surface of the thing. He remains with his arms folded, and his unexpressive eyes wholly fixated on you.

Your own eyes flicker to the revolver. You realize now that you could just as easily attempt to lunge for it if you so wanted. You’re no longer restricted by chains, and you’re so very close to the thing. A part of you wishes you could, and that you would. You’ve seen The Overseer cock the thing before. You know at least to point and shoot. But…you’re not sure you could manage to. If you were to kill the man, you’d also have to deal with Lucius. And then what? Run away?

Even if the men heading the operation die, you might still face retaliation from the other doctors. Running away from here now wouldn’t do you any good anyway with how little of this place you know. There are many halls, many paths you can take. You’d get caught, maybe even killed. By whom, you don’t know.

Regardless, you force the thought aside and remain focused on the folder instead. No doubt The Overseer saw your brief contemplation, but he doesn’t appear to have reacted to it. His stillness, his stern gaze…they scare you. They’re difficult to read.

Your shaky hands finally reach their fingers toward the long edge of the folder, though you remain looking up at The Overseer to make sure he won’t reach for his gun. In silence, you peel back the surface layer of your file, letting the outer cover rest on the floor.

The Overseer remains motionless, watching you. Only when your file is fully open do you bother to look down upon it.

But it’s blank.

Every page in this folder is blank. Had you looked inside just earlier, you would have died for no reason.

“You seemed so hopeful,” The Overseer remarks upon assessing your horrified expression as you sift through the pure white pages. “I’d pity you if I cared about you. Nonetheless, you see now how fruitless an endeavor attempting to know your own past is, correct?”

Not wanting to anger the man, you try to muster another “yes, sir”. It comes out so shakily this time, almost stammering.

A brief silence falls between you and The Overseer, though this is shaken by his stepping over the papers and closer to you. Each page crumples and slides beneath his boots. With a roughened grip, The Overseer then lifts your head up by grabbing your jaw, and forces you to look up at him.

“I saw your eyes wander to it,” he remarks. You know full well that he means his gun. “You had a glint of desperation in your eyes. For a brief moment, you contemplated reaching for my weapon and using it against me.”

He frowns when he sees you about to protest this idea.

“Don’t deny it,” he sharply reprimands you. “I know that look well. I have seen it many a time, in many people. Even I once cowered like you, and was once as weak as you and all your companions. But that’s the sort of thing you learn to overcome through experience.”

The Overseer subtly cocks his head to the side as he observes your face.

“Do you wish for me to die?”

Your lips part as if preparing to let words slip out. You know what the correct answer is—a prompt “no”. However, you’re sharply interrupted before you can say it.

“The correct answer is ‘yes’,” The Overseer asserts in contradiction to your own assumption, knowing full well what you were about to answer with. “Even if you won’t admit to it aloud, I know well that a hate for me stirs in your heart, as it stirs in the hearts of many of my other prisoners. Those such as you who don’t enjoy the terrors of death can even be driven to wish death upon others. I know this certainly.”

The Overseer’s hand drops from your jaw, and he turns to go back to the console. Your heart jumps again as you see him take hold of his revolver, though he doesn’t prepare to shoot it this time. Instead, he opens its cylindrical side and plucks each bullet from the thing, emptying the gun entirely of its ammo.

Each bullet is stood up in a row on the console’s edge, and once this is done, The Overseer loudly snaps the revolver’s barrel back into place and turns toward you again. When he approaches you, he turns his revolver around and hands it to you.

“Take it.”

You eye the thing dumbfoundedly. “S-sir?”

“Take it in your hands before I change my mind, girl,” The Overseer repeats himself and promptly gives a sharp word. “Don’t ask me why. This is the only chance you will have to feel what it’s like to hold a weapon in your hands. Take advantage of it.”

You can’t fathom his motivation in this allowance. Is this another test? Will he beat you if you take it? If you don’t? You don’t know what the right answer is, but you don’t linger on it long knowing of The Overseer’s impatience. Shakily, you do as told and take hold of the gun. You almost drop the thing as you misjudge how heavy it really is, but you quickly take it in both hands before it can fall too far.

The revolver’s handle is smooth, save for two bumpy panels on its side that allow you to grip it without it slipping. After accustoming yourself to its weight, you grip the weapon in one hand and run your fingers along the smooth metal surface of its side, feeling every dip and curve in its cylinder, and the smooth, rounded shape of its barrel.

Touching and holding the gun breeds no familiarity in you. No spark nor sudden interest that returns to you. This is with certainty something you’ve never held before, something you’ve never really accustomed yourself to. But the weight in your hands, the power of such a dangerous weapon—it’s as terrifying as it is unusually empowering. With one fell swoop, with one shot, you could end the life of another human being.. It’s haunting.

You then eye a small, jutting piece from the revolver that’s close to the grip and atop the gun. You recognize this without really even knowing what it is—you can vividly hear the light click of it being depressed by The Overseer’s thumb without even having to touch it yourself. You know that it’s this that allows him to shoot his weapon. Your own thumb even glides along it, while your forefinger gently slides over the trigger. You ponder the idea of pressing both just to see how it feels, but you don’t dare to.

“Even knowing that there are no bullets in this gun, you won’t cock it?” The Overseer remarks with a bitter curiosity, noting your hesitation. “You won’t even aim and shoot knowing that there’s no consequence to doing so?”

You shake your head, but don’t give a verbal answer. You could never bring yourself to do it, even for as angry as the people in this facility make you, even for as far down as they’ve driven you. They’re horrible people you can never forgive, but to take their life by your own hand is too horrifying a responsibility. It wouldn’t bring you any real satisfaction to see the life leaving their eyes. The image would merely haunt you forever.

Is that what it’s like for them? Do The Overseer and Lucius remain haunted by the deaths they’ve seen? How long did it take for them to become numb to it? How long will it take for you too?

“I see.” The Overseer then snatches the gun out of your hands and scowls subtly.

“You’re still very hesitant,” he criticizes you. “Were you stronger, I might actually respect you somewhat. But it seems you’ve made it your mission to be a disappointment. You’re a meek little wretch. I’ve given you the chance to see what it’s like to be on the other end of this weapon, and you do nothing with it. Pathetic.”

Does he want you to fight back? He spent all this effort drilling the need for submission to him in your head. Why now has he decided to reprimand you for not taking a chance to act out, even if doing so wouldn’t have been a genuine threat? You can’t understand.

The Overseer turns back to the console then and proceeds to reload his revolver with the bullets he pulled out. The shells, you notice, are quite thick and colored silver. The tips are rounded and slide easily into each hole in the cylinder of the revolver.

“Return to the bed and chain yourself back up, girl” The Overseer then commands without bothering to turn around again. “You won’t be leaving here just yet. I’ll still have you for just a little bit longer while I make the adequate preparations to return you.”

Preparations? Does he mean to remove your memory of this place? Of everything you’ve learned? Your heart, even now, still beats so strongly at the worry.

You hesitate a moment, still shocked by everything that’s just happened and unable to move right away. But you soon do respond with another humbled “yes, sir” and attempt to rise to your feet on your own. No attempts are made to flee, to fight back, to do anything. All you do is obey. He and you both know this is all you’ll do.

You move back toward your bed and sit upon it, then take each shackle and wrap it around your wrists one by one before snapping each one tightly shut. The cold steel against your flesh only sends more shivers down your spine after a brief respite from the sensation.

You hear The Overseer spark up another cigarette after he’s holstered his gun, and soon the room fills with the familiar scent of smoke. After giving a puff of air, the man heads toward your curtain and looks down upon you with a cigarette between his lips. He takes it between two fingers once he sees you with his grey gaze, and plucks it out.

“You have a question in your eyes again,” he remarks unsatisfactorily. “I despise that face you make when you want to ask something. So ask it.”

Are you that obvious? You don’t know right now. Everything’s swirling around in your head and you feel fairly sick to your stomach about all this: Being tricked, threatened, and even holding The Overseer’s gun in your own hands. It’s almost unreal to you. Most of all, the issue of your memory…

“W-what about it?” You ask shakily. “My memory? Will you take it too?”

The Overseer continues to look down upon you, saying nothing. Rather than give you an answer, he places the end of his cigarette to his lips, sucks in a breath, and blows it out in your face. This causes you to slightly cough and turn away, but when the smoke dissipates, you’re left disappointed. The Overseer remains silent and merely clutches your curtain before drawing it over you, shutting you out.

You don’t much meditate after this, opting instead to recuperate after the ordeal and calm down from it. You’re hardly in a focused mindset for meditation anyway. It’s a strategic retreat, you suppose. But you’ll pick back up in a moment.

Lucius and The Overseer continue to go in and out of the room regularly, often switching, sometimes both disappearing. You have a few more meals and another bath, but you otherwise have no clue how much time really passes. Hours, days? Does it even matter anymore?

Whenever you get anesthetized, you take the opportunity to lay quietly and be at peace. You don’t want to use the lulling slumber as a means to avoid what you don’t like anymore. Rather, you want to approach it more soundly. Easier said than done, of course, but you do give it your best.

You continue to question what it is The Overseer intends for you. It constantly bugs you why he did what he did—what was he attempting to do other than test your obedience and loyalty? Your willingness to bow your head rather than cower utterly?

What a cruel stunt. But you suppose it was unrealistic to even let yourself be fooled by the possibility of learning who you were. You’d thought earlier that maybe The Overseer might tell people more about things they don’t know before he wipes their memory, almost in a “kind” gesture. But you’re not sure if he did what he did to you because he intends to wipe your memory certainly, or if he did it as a means to an end. He seemed to want to push you further in your place, but you can’t really tell if there was an ulterior motive.

And his gun? What of it? Why let you hold the thing? It baffles you. He acted annoyed when you hesitated to fiddle with to too much further than you had. Was he expecting, or perhaps hoping, that you’d aim the thing at him?

The Overseer had asked if you wished for him to die, but you wonder whether he wants to die too, or if it’s just something he’s so indifferent to. He seems like someone who might face death more readily than most people. It’s an unusual comparison, but you do think his approach to death may be similar to Eight’s. You wonder if the both of them have faced a similar kind of abuse before, then.

Maybe it’s a far-fetched idea. Eight’s own dim, yet nonchalant view of death has come primarily because of his experience both in the facility and with Lilah. You can hardly speak of The Overseer, but if he doesn’t have a good relationship with his father and hates speaking of family, you can presume he faced a harsh upbringing. Abuse? Possibly. You can’t really confirm that.

The more you think about it, the more you suspect that the callous man intends to erase your memory because of how he spoke and acted. It’s hard to parse it—on one hand, The Overseer was all too ready to hurt you, to toss you away, to punish you for everything that’s been your fault, even when you’ve done nothing. On the other hand, you can’t understand why he’d place so much emphasis on your learned obedience to him when erasing your memory might also entirely erase that aspect of yourself as well. Surely you could come to learn the same lessons again in time, but he’s said he’ll give you no more chances after he last threatened to kill you.

You’re tired of constantly being threatened, strung along, and abused. Do the regular threats dampen your fear? Not at all. Every instance in which your life is endangered sparks a will to live in you, even when you’re willing to let go because you have no other option. You simply don’t want to die. Even when you know it’s not something you can prevent, you want to fight against death whenever you can. You won’t let this place have you so easily, if you can help it.

Unfortunately, the fear of losing your memory and what it may bring still lingers even now. You can hardly do a thing about it anymore, and trying to guess what may happen only frustrates you.

Only when you do overcome this shaken state from your recent brush with The Overseer do you attempt to meditate again, this time spending your time switching between mudras as you see fit, always ending with the one for strength. Each time you make the gesture, you remember not only Cyrus, but everyone who’s lifted you up.

You try to repeat every memory you have of them in your mind, hoping that if The Overseer does decide to take these away, that at least the things feelings they bring you will remain. Your memories won’t truly be gone, anyway. You just won’t be able to access them anymore, but the feelings they invoke won’t leave you, you’re sure.

Will you fall in love with Cyrus again? With Lav? Will you remember the feeling of loving them and wind up on the same path as before?

If you lose your memory, it might hurt them both to know you don’t really remember them. You can imagine how difficult it would be for them to decide what to do, choosing whether to attempt getting closer to you in fear that their doing so might be seen as manipulating you. But you wouldn’t mind them trying to get close to you all over again. It’d make you happy, you think. If you’re still the you that you are now, you’d still love them dearly.

“I do love you.”

Your heart sinks remembering Cyrus’ words. Despite everything that became hazy because of your prior miserable state, his voice still rings clear in your head. You feel a bit guilty that Cyrus opened up so much to you before you suddenly disappeared. Even after all this repairing of your body and soul you’ve done, it still leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He might hesitate when he sees you again. He and Lav both might. But you’ll be as patient as possible for them, as they have always been with you.

Cyrus has always been willing to use the word “love” toward his friends. He’s said many times that he loves Violet, that he loves everyone. His heart is fairly large, you’ve come to find. But, strangely, you think his use of the word was different with you. Could you ever say it back to him? Maybe when he’s ready. You’re not even sure you are yet.

You wonder whether you could even say the same to Lav. As it is, she’s not much expressed her sentiment to you with words. Not really. Her affection for you isn’t much different than Cyrus’, no lesser nor greater. Rather, it’s always been more casual and subtle. You’re okay with it. You think that between the two of you, you’d be the one to say the phrase aloud to her first. You’re gentler and more willing to express it. Perhaps you’re like Cyrus that way, though it’s taken him quite a lot to open up about his own feelings. Admittedly, so have you.

In a way, they are a little similar. Lav doesn’t attempt to hide her own feelings, but she doesn’t always know how to be super expressive about her emotions beyond being encouraging and present for those she loves. She’s always helped you along, just as Cyrus has. They’ve both been so present for you. It’s something you deeply appreciate.

Even Eight’s done the same. He hasn’t much expressed a more amiable love for you in a traditional sense, but he has shown an immense improvement and willingness to participate with you and the others that he hadn’t when you first met him. He’s changed, and he’d been doing a lot better for himself before you left.

You almost want to laugh thinking of Violet pestering him so much. She’s the last person you can imagine him tolerating, but he seems to have gotten along with her fine, just as Lav and Blue have gotten along, and just as the twins and the peachy girlfriends have. Everyone seems to have someone, whether it’s a companion or a romantic partner. You’re glad. Nobody should have to go this place alone.

Suddenly, you feel a cold sensation of something trailing down your cheek. It comes so unexpectedly in your meditative trance that you jump slightly. Your eyes shoot open, and when you glance to your left, you see Lucius hovering over your bed, strangely donning a white coat. The back of his hand is slowly trailing your cheek, which you now realize is wet. Only then do you notice that you’d been crying.

“Tears?” Lucius questions with a raise of his brow. “Now why on earth are you so bothered?”

“The thought wasn’t bothersome,” you mumble quietly, bringing your own hand to your cheek to cover it once your guardian’s touch has retracted. “It was a happier one. One that doesn’t matter to you. You wouldn’t understand.”

You notice that you’re alone with Lucius, as The Overseer is absent. You recall him being gone after waking up from your recent anesthetization, and that he’d been absent even for a long while after you awoke. But in your meditative trance, you somewhat forgot about your surroundings entirely. Seeing your guardian dressed in the white coat you haven’t seen him in since you last woke under heavy anesthesia only leaves you nervous.

“Understand what?” Lucius scoffs.

“What it is to love someone dearly.”

Your guardian briefly pauses, then shifts his dark eyes to the side. He frowns. “Presumptuous even now, I see.”

He then dismisses some thought of his, opting to return his gaze to you and give another one of his eerie smiles.

“Now, princess, let’s not get distracted, mm?” He gives a falsely chipper attitude. “I’m here with reason.”

You see a cuff in his other hand when you finally look down. The sight of it only shakes you knowing what it might mean, though this hesitant, worried reaction pleases Lucius greatly. His smile does not falter.

“It seems our King’s requested an audience with you before he’ll let you go. Are you excited?”

Nothing escapes your lips. You merely sit there looking up at Lucius dumbfoundedly. This has all come so suddenly despite you knowing it would come soon. How much time has even passed since The Overseer mentioned he’d let you go?

Moreover, is this really it? Are you going to lose your memory now? Your heart pumps so heavily that you feel like it might burst. Nonetheless, you continue to breathe deeply and try to keep calm.

“You know the drill, don’t you?”

You realize that Lucius has been awaiting you to put your hands behind your back for him. He’s not wasting time here. Despite your hesitance and worry, you do as told and let the man tightly cuff your arms together, then unchain you.

“Now lay down,” you’re commanded. You obey, though continue to tremble on the bed. Your head turns to the side as you await the injection. You notice the syringe is actually fairly small this time. You aren’t sure why you’re getting such a minimal dose. If you’re going to be put under for a procedure, shouldn’t you get more?

As if reading the question in your eyes, Lucius gives you an answer while he pumps your veins with the drug.

“You won’t be sleeping long,” he says. “We don’t use this for heavy surgeries or procedures, but we administer what we do use quite close to each operation. Don’t worry your head about it. Atop the things I have to take care of before bringing you in, he simply doesn’t want you knowing where you’re going. You’ve walked a few of our halls as it is. But this particular room he holds quite close. A bastion of his. One of few.”

You clutch the thin sheet of the bed tightly as your worries are confirmed. The Overseer is having you delivered to another of his domains for a procedure. Perhaps an operation theater. You aren’t really sure what to expect. If you’ll be waking up there, will you be faced with machines ladened with unusual buttons and screens with incomprehensible data? Tons of horrifying sharp tools and dangerous chemicals in bottles and beakers?

After plucking the empty syringe from your flesh Lucius discards it. When he returns to you, he gently brushes some of your hair away from your face as he watches you shiver and fearfully mull over what might befall you. Even though you’ve managed to remain strong, the uncertainty of your future continues even now to invoke such a worrisome state. All you can do now is keep holding on and just let come what comes.

“I can’t much interact with you when I’m there with him,” Lucius remarks, his voice low. “So I’ll make this brief.”

He retracts his hand from your face as your head turns back up. You look Lucius in the eye with uncertainty, but also while attempting to restrain your fearful expression.

“I don’t much care for you as a person, Ten,” Lucius tells you bluntly. “My only fascination was with watching you squirm and cry. Don’t presume my intentions were ever personal. With prisoners, they never are. Though, I’m actually quite shocked you’ve made it this far without breaking. Not very many manage to encounter us and do the same.

“Now, I didn’t enjoy having to watch and take care of you. I only did it under my superior’s order. Even so, I suppose our time together was…entertaining, for what it was. I do look forward to seeing how you fare out there after all this. I’m quite sure Gale does too.”

Lucius softly chuckles when he sees your eyes slowly drooping. You struggle to keep them open as much as you like while the anesthetic hits you. Your dark-haired guardian shifts himself so that he’s standing by your lower body and facing the head of your bed. He leans himself over, hunching over your torso and pressing one hand into the mattress to steady himself.

“Despite how I feel about you,” he speaks lowly, “I’ll give you this gesture of good faith that I can’t with my boss around. Consider it a polite, formal sendoff, princess. Nothing more.”

Without another word, he leans in closer and gives your lips a gentle kiss; a quick peck that hardly lasts long. Even so, you feel the lingering sensation long after it ends, and long after the man pulls away. You don’t much comprehend anything else after this. Your vision slowly blurs to a point that all you can see are dim colors and shapes that slightly reflect light from what the screens on the console emit. You think Lucius is lifting your body up in his arms, but you struggle to pay attention anymore as everything fades to black.

---

The next thing you’re able to comprehend is the sound of slow footsteps, the turning of pages, and murmuring voices. There are two; ones you don’t immediately recognize in your groggy state, but can only assume belong to both men who have overseen your confinement for however long you’ve been confined. The noises come from somewhere behind you, from what you can gather.

Despite the fogginess, you can tell quite quickly that you’re sitting down on something, and that your body is tilted back just slightly. Though you can’t quite open your eyes yet, you find that there’s a piercing light that shines even through the skin of your eyelids, making what you see from behind them far lighter. Attempting to open your eyes only causes this light above you to pierce your vision even more strongly, so you’re forced to resort to hard squinting as you lay back.

Your arm attempts to come up to shield your face, but you find that it’s fastened tightly to something solid. An armrest of a chair, perhaps. Both arms are held down, in fact, strapped down by your wrists. Your heart’s pace quickens as you realize you’re restricted, and this quiet panic is only furthered when you attempt to wriggle your legs and find they’re just as tightly held down by a few thick, leather straps.

The chatter you’re unable to fully make out stops as the men in the room no doubt have heard and seen your struggling. It still pains you to try opening your eyes, but you make the attempt nonetheless in dire want to understand what’s happening right now.

Your breaths quicken in your panic, though you find you can only make them through your nose, as your mouth has been covered with a tightly rolled up cloth that’s been wrapped around your head. Oddly, you can feel it graze the back of your neck as well. Whatever hair of yours that’s fallen loosely since you came to this place has been pinned up. You only know this because you can feel both the rough cloth and the cold air against the back of your neck so clearly, so much so that it leaves you with a shiver down your spine.

There’s some kind of gap between whatever your head is resting on and whatever your shoulders are that only makes this cold sensation more apparent. You can only guess that the two are separate entities, only connected by a thinner support. You suppose this is a removable thing, then, or something left fairly open to allow a good portion of the back of your head to be accessible.

When your vision is better able to focus on your surroundings and the light no longer hurts to look at, you finally open your eyes further and flick them to and fro nervously. There’s only so much you can fully make out from where you are with the immensely bright light towering above your body. It illuminates in a circle around you and the chair you’re in, but everything else beyond the light seems dim, but not wholly dark.

Immediately before you and somewhat to your sides are a few screens—one to your left is completely dark, the other to your right is riddled with numbers and pulsating lines that you can only assume are indications of your vitals. You can gather this much, anyway, by the way the rhythmic pounding of your heart matches one particular line that juts up and down.

Both screens are hooked up to machines with wires jutting out of them that you can’t much tell where they lead, other than downward. You even think you see wires extending out along what little of the floor you can make out in the outward dimness of the room. Even with your vision’s accustoming to the light, it’s still difficult to parse what’s beyond it..

The only thing you can vividly make out from beyond your chair, somewhere to your left, is a few illuminated blue charts decorated with certain skeletal frames of specific parts of the body on some kind of lit-up board. If it’s on a wall, you can only presume through what little spatial awareness you have that the room is just as large as the one you were taken to for observation from Monica. No doubt, though, that this is an entirely different area.

Your chair has something hooked to its left, some kind of swiveling object that’s currently locked solidly in place and pointed upward. It frightens you to see it—some sort of white metal device with a C-shaped curve at the end that looks as though it can be adjusted given that it has screws on its sides. The tips of this object are flat and rounded, but thick enough to be sturdy. You aren’t sure what it’s for, but it’s unnerving to see.

There’s a wheeled cart to your right, the surface of which is hosting a tray full of medical tools you don’t know. Some flat, some tonged, some sharp, and some round-tipped. One particular instrument makes your heart jump the moment you lay your eyes upon it. The thing almost looks like a syringe of some sort, but the needle is much longer than that of a regular syringe. You’re able to guess very quickly what it’s for. If there were any doubt, there’s a few clear vials beside it, each labelled with the letters NMSNE, followed by different three-digit numbers. The drug inside these vials is completely clear.

Your fingers curl around the rounded, padded ends of your armrest, your nails practically digging into the material as you gather where you are and what’s happening. Your grogginess slowly fades, and replaced utterly by fear.

When your eyes flicker down to your body, you’re taken aback to see that you’re clothed in a white gown. It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything at all that you almost refuse to believe you’re feeling the cloth on your skin now. It’s a familiar yet foreign sensation all at once. The straps along your flesh holding you down tightly are completely black, but not quite the same material as what you remember being on your bed back in your examination room.

You almost jump at the sudden sight of a white-clothed figure stepping into your sight from behind your right side. The first thing you see is another folder full of paper, held open by a light-skinned hand. As the figure holding it comes more into your line of sight, you notice that it’s The Overseer. He stops when he’s reached the front of the wheeled cart, though his grey eyes remain affixed to whatever data is on the pages within the folder he has open.

After a moment of nervous quiet, he shuts the thing and calmly places it on another part of the cart beside you. He takes a quick look at your vitals and huffs a bit of air through his nose.

“You keep that pulse up, and your heart will explode,” he remarks. “I thought that meditation you did was a means to alleviate such responses of fear to the unknown.”

Your eyes shift fearfully and slowly toward your twisted doctor, watching The Overseer closely. You say nothing, unable to really do so anyway, and merely let out more shallow breaths through your nose.

“You’re shaking,” The Overseer notes with a frown as he eyes your profile. “Naturally, I anticipated a fearful response. It’s always the same with you all. I only had you gagged out of an equal anticipation of screams and protest. It’s quite common, and very annoying.

“But there’s no need to be afraid now. You should instead be grateful to be here, to see this place. Not many have the luxury. Especially not the luxury to see it twice, as you have.”

What? You feel no familiarity to this place. There’s no way that you…

“You were hardly awake. It’s no wonder you don’t remember,” The Overseer remarks, as if reading your mind. He plucks the syringe from the table with his blackly gloved thumb and forefinger, then brings the thing up and examines the long needle against the light. “Like some others I’ve worked on, you’ve always struggled to stay down with certain drugs meant to induce a state of unconsciousness. There have been a few outliers like you, but you are one of few who got lucky. You woke up before my work on you even began. Others…”

The Overseer lowers the syringe and gently glides two fingers along the long, thin needle. You eye it fearfully all the while.

“…Others were unfortunate enough to wake up during their procedures,” The Overseer goes on. “Often, they panicked. They shook about, attempting to fight against their limb and cranial restraints, even with this needle still inside their head. Granted, It’s sturdy enough to do its job, but still thin enough not to cause damage, unless there’s movement. I keep my subjects still, secured, and heavily sedated for that reason. However, this needle has snapped inside the awoken a few times, even scratched vital lobes that caused irreversible damage leading to a volley of side effects that essentially rendered my subjects useless. If they didn’t die, I had to put them down.

“This procedure, even for as simple as it sounds, is immensely difficult to carry out. Things have to be precise when you work with the human mind. It’s central to most everything in the body. Your ability to think, rationalize, speak, store memory, process images received through the oculi—everything that makes up who you are and what you are all stems from your brain. Consider yourself very lucky to survive this procedure. You are in a moment in time in which the process has had many of its problems worked out. There is a foundation of dead subjects beneath you. This is the nature of progress.”

That’s…horrifying! It’s unspeakably horrifying! You know you’re fortunate compared to so many others, but hearing this all aloud only shakes you further. You can’t fathom how torturous it must have been for patients before you. You can’t imagine how many people must have died in this chair. For them, perhaps living would have been too hellish. It’s better that they didn’t live long enough to continue being abused in this place, then. But to be taken away from their homes, their families, their partners, all just to die here…how cruel.

The Overseer’s unexpressive grey eyes then flicker back toward you.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

You slowly shake your head, a weak, muffled whimper escaping your throat. Though you’re essentially telling the man “no”, you do know why you’re here. Your uncertainty now is whether or not what you expect to happen will actually happen. If The Overseer has only brought you here to scare you, he’s done more than enough of a good job at it. You’re willing to accept the loss of your memory, but being in this place only horrifies you. Your fingers even now are still tightly gripping the ends of the chair’s armrests.

“I simply haven’t made my decision on whether or not to let your memory stay intact,” is The Overseer’s response to your uncertain answer. “As promised, I will return you to Yosuke and those you hold dear. Your lesson seems quite learned, and I’d very much like to proceed with things as they were before I took you. However, I entirely dislike your childish nature, Ten. Even after all you’ve endured, you’re still hesitant, still weaker than you think. You have much to learn about fear, and about overcoming it, even for as much progress as it seems you’ve made, even for as much as you’ve learned and how much it’s affected you. You still know so little.”

Your eyes trail the syringe as The Overseer quietly places it back on the tray. Even when the man’s hand retracts from it, you remain fixated on the thing, and on the vials beside it. The Overseer notices this, as he picks one of the vials up next.

“A rather potent drug,” he tells you upon taking notice of your watchful eye. “I’ve yet to give it a proper name other than one—Mnemosyne. The name of a Greek goddess of memory, and the mother of the muses. An appropriate working title, I figured. Though my knowledge of Greek mythology is nowhere near as refined as our Doctor Giordano’s.”

The Overseer places the vial back on the tray and watches your fearful face again.

“It’s this that you may blame for your inability to remember anything,” he says bluntly. “Scorn it if you like, as you scorn me and so many others. But I fully intend to carry out a few procedures today. I’ve spent all this time preparing for it—a lengthy process, mind you, despite the shorter nature of the procedure by comparison. Whether you will be next in line or not for this depends wholly on you right now. I am very much prepared to begin.”

He does more than one at a time? It’s scary to think others are next in line. You remember The Overseer getting ready to go out for something like this before, but you didn’t know if it was a follow-up shot, or the main injection. You wonder, then, if the boy recently brought here by both men never got his procedure done. After all, the process of induction is supposedly very lengthy. It’s possible he was still being examined and his data processed. If not him, then surely other inductees, or even new workers are due for this. You assumed that they had already been brought in by now.

You have no idea, but your mind is so rattled at being in this place now, being strapped to this chair, seeing these instruments and vials and screens and bright light all before you, that it’s hard to focus on anything. You’re trying as hard as you can to keep yourself grounded, but you feel as though you’re ready to slip. You want to cry. You want to scream. But you know you can’t. Fighting it now would be useless, and it would dampen any chance you have at getting out of here unscathed. Annoying The Overseer is the worst possible option here. You have to remain diligent, and continue to humble yourself beneath such a horrible, frightening man.

The Overseer then turns his head toward his left, behind your chair, and calls rather sharply for a nurse while giving a loud snap of his fingers. Light footsteps are heard from behind you, and promptly the frame of a nurse emerges obediently by The Overseer’s side. You hear the sound of running water in a metal sink somewhere behind you, which you presume to be from Lucius. However, your attention remains completely focused on The Overseer.

“Prepare the injection site,” is your callous doctor’s order to his worker.

The nurse gives a light bow of her head before promptly reaching to another shelf on the cart by you to grab what’s needed and start preparing to do as asked. Meanwhile, another figure emerges out of the corner of your left eye, and in your focus of the bodies on your right, you’re taken aback by the sudden movement. Your head sharply turns to your left, and you see Lucius casually adjusting the ends of his own medical gloves, a subtle smile plastered on his face as he carries on without a care.

Lucius glances up at you with his dark eyes for just a moment, but does not linger long. He doesn’t have to. You know he’s being smug with you, but you’re much too frightened to care.

“Do remove that cloth, Lucius,” The Overseer tells his partner as he plucks one of the labelled vials of Mnemosyne. “I’ve decided it’s in the way.”

He then looks down at you while he uncaps the vial.

“Don’t make any noises beyond speech,,” he warns you. “I understand you are frightened, but I have little patience for fear, as you well know.”

You gasp when Lucius’ cold fingers and hand brush against your neck and ears as he reaches to undo your gag. While his fingers work the back knot, the cloth of his coat then brushes against your nape. His body remains uncomfortably close to you.

When the cloth is pulled away and promptly put aside, you finally start to breathe through your mouth, sucking in deep breaths again to attempt quelling your anxious state at least a little bit. You can’t afford to slip up now.

Your eyes flicker briefly to the screen displaying your pulse and other vitals, and you watch as the line shoots up and falls down at a rather quick pace to match your own fearful heartbeat.

“I fully intended to shoot you then, Ten,” The Overseer calmly remarks as he takes the long syringe and punctures the top of the open vial’s surface. “I asked you to give me a reason to let you live, and I entertained your humility. But humility is not merely what I want to hear now.”

You watch nervously as the syringe’s thin glass tube slowly fills with clear fluid.

As Lucius pulls away, the nurse, having gathered her tools, leaves The Overseer’s side, and comes behind you. A metallic, cold sensation hits your neck, followed by a light snip of something. You flinch a bit at the unfamiliar feeling, until you suddenly realize with the repeated motion of cutting that the nurse is now trimming a small bit of the hair on the back of your neck, where it conjoins with your head. She hardly cuts much of your hair at all from what you can feel, but no doubt just enough so that some skin is exposed and easy to access.

Once she’s done with this, she reaches over and places a small set of metallic scissors onto the tray atop the cart that’s by you. She then starts to wipe the area down with something that reeks of chemicals and alcohol. Whatever she’s using feels just as cold, and very wet, like some light, thin cloth.

The Overseer by now has finished prepping his favorite tool. The others on the tray leave you shaking. You have no idea what they might be for if all you’re getting is an injection.

Holding the syringe in his blackly gloved hand, The Overseer looks upon you without an expression, watching your face closely his cool grey eyes. He observes your frightful state for a moment before finally speaking again.

“Indulge me, girl,” he calls out. “I asked you then to give me a reason to live, so now I ask you to give me a reason not to shatter what memory you have of this place and of your confinement. It would be easy for me to reset you. It’s beneficial to me—doing so would eradicate any risk of information that I don’t want to get out from doing just that. If you dearly want to keep your memories, then be honest with me now. Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I…” is all you can muster. Your lips are parted, yet it’s hard to get yourself to speak. The Overseer huffs a bit of breath through his nose.

“Your hesitant even now,” he says with displeasure. “I will say, despite your fearful state before me now, you’ve always had a mouth on you. When I told you to forget about the girl you watched die, you pushed against my word and did what you wanted recklessly. When I brought you to me, you spoke up without permission. Do I have reason to trust you’d stay silent about everything you’ve learned here?”

“I don’t…” You continue to struggle. What can you say now? Your mind goes blank. You know there are reasons you’ve mulled over before, but you just can’t bring them to your head no matter how hard you wrack it in search of the words.

“He’s an impatient man, Ten,” Lucius remarks from your left, his subtler smile ever present. Your head turns to him then, and you see him casually leaning his elbow against the unusual, curved object on your side with one arm. “You shouldn’t dawdle in this.”

The nurse, done with her task, goes to Lucius next and stands between him and the leftmost screen before you patiently. Her hands remain at her sides.

You then turn your attention back to The Overseer, your eyes wide as you gaze upon the full syringe in his hand. Despite his displeasure at you, he remains still and awaits your answer. You want to beg him “please!”, but you know it’d do no good. It’s hard to think clearly right now. You need to focus and calm yourself before you can.

Trying to soothe your nerves even a little, you try to remind yourself that even if you do lose this battle, even if your memory is stolen, you will still have people to help lift you back up. It’s something you reminded yourself of back while meditating prior, but has proven hard to remember fully in your panic.

Yes…It’ll be alright, won’t it? Even if you’re not you anymore, even if you forget the things you hold dear, you can always climb back up. You can make new memories. You already have once.

Your fingers continue to dig into the padding of your armrests as you desperately cling to something in want of being comforted. All you have now, though, is yourself. You have to carry yourself through this, and so you will.

What reasons do you have, then? Why do you deserve your memory? Or rather, why would it not be in The Overseer’s interest to take it from you? He’s committed to the idea that eradicating your memory would benefit him personally, but there’s a flaw in that mentality. You know there is.

Drumming up answers of your own, you finally bring yourself to focus your thoughts and speak.

“Overseer,” you call out desperately. Even though your voice is shaking slightly, you push through the hesitance to try speaking clearly with the hardened man by your right. “Sir…if you undo every bit of progress I’ve made, all it will do is hinder things.”

The Overseer’s cold eyes don’t once leave you, nor does his expression change.

“Explain.”

“Y-you mentioned all the progress I’ve made in learning to obey you,” you tell him pointedly. “If you erase my memory, that progress would be completely eradicated. I’d be back at square one. I’d only be a nuisance to you even more than you believe I already am!”

“I have considered as much,” The Overseer answers you. “But I have no intention of bringing you back to me, and so I have no reason to care about your state while out there. The only reason this all happened was because both you and your doctor acted out of line. Removing your memory of what transpired and of what you’ve learned would only eliminate the issue I have with you. You’d remain innocent otherwise in that place I hold you in. You were never a difficult thing until you started to ask questions.”

“But I’ll ask questions again if I have more to ask,” you remind him.

“There’s a chance you may not be the same person,” is your callous doctor’s blunt reply. “I’m sure you’re aware of such a case. The prior Two’s was not the only one. There have been others like her. Who’s to say you’ll be different? You may be more docile after I’m done with you. Just as I prefer you.”

“T-then what about Yosuke?” You ask. “He’ll go crazy if he finds out I can get pregnant. He’ll keep obsessing over me, won’t he? Even if I come back, he’s still a problem.”

The Overseer tilts his head just slightly.

“Perhaps. That’s an odd case to make, as it only leads me to consider dropping you in an entirely different sector with the Letters. But that was never my intention. I still have use for Yosuke even despite the trust in his character I had that he’s shattered. But I’ve come to see how he is with his wretched obsessions. I can easily nip it in the bud by giving him what he wants precisely without the need for his effort in trying to attain it.

“He’s lorded over you so diligently, his goal only to make you his. He’s been fond of you for a long time. Perhaps if I give him what he truly wants and make you susceptible to him again, to a point that he may manipulate you more easily, he may have no need for further disobediences. He’ll have his precious toy just as he likes it. If I dangle the promise of making you his above him after taking his treasure away for so long, he may very well do exactly as told. He wouldn’t have to work so hard at forcing you to succumb to him.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” you tell The Overseer forwardly. “He might not just stop at making me want him.”

“I suppose you mean a potential attempt to impregnate you?” The Overseer raises a brow as he again slides a few fingers along the needle of the syringe. “It’s an unconventional idea. Sickening, I think. But if I even allow him that much, or allow him to think that he’s the one responsible even if it isn’t his seed that’s affected you, then what else could he possibly want? If you’re returned to him upon surviving extraction of such a vile creature from your womb, then Yosuke will be thrilled and satisfied knowing you were made his.

“I don’t personally believe he deserves it after that stunt he pulled. That’s why I took you from him to begin with. I meant to reprimand him in a specific way. However, the alternative I’ve proposed is indeed an option, if keeping him in line with cruelty is not what he needs. A strategy, if you will. Of course, Gale knows more of reinforcement than I. All I have to do is ask for their assistance in this task. I could easily work things through. Making you innocent once more would only be one step in this process.”

He then subtly scowls.

“How grotesque the process of childrearing is. I can’t fathom why anyone would want to bear a child willingly. You are tragically unlucky to be born a woman. Of course I could easily remove the variable of pregnancy in my subjects who don’t become sterile through the effects of Mnemosyne. But it seems your womb can be used to an advantage. The desire of men to lord over you women’s bodies to a point that they’d do anything to keep you beneath them, to make you theirs—I suppose even that can be made useful.”

Disgusting. You’re not a pawn or a vessel of some kind. You’re a person. But you can’t speak out against such a vile idea. You’re in no place, and you can’t much focus on the disgust long anyway. It seems you’re losing this fight. The Overseer continues to find every reason to eradicate your memory even when you’re certain your points aren’t wrong. He even acknowledges them willingly, yet manages to counterargue each one on the spot. You can’t match his thinking pace. You’re at a disadvantage with all the turmoil your mind is going through right now, with all the panic that lingers even after you’ve managed to quell some bit of it enough to allow you to speak.

Wanting desperately to reach The Overseer and will him to let you go, you try more approaches.

“There’s no guarantee that all of that would work,” you tell him. “What if I end up pregnant too soon for it to have been Yosuke’s fault? For…any reason. He’d know it wasn’t his doing. Your intentions would harbor no good results.”

The Overseer’s eyes slightly move away from you as he realizes what you’re referring to. It remains unsaid, but the both of you are aware. Lucius doesn’t much react to this quiet acknowledging of his actions, but he does smirk a bit. Despite the brief pause, The Overseer’s attention does turn back to you sharply.

“Yes, I suppose that is a risk,” he admits. “But testing such theories always comes with risk. It’s part of the work I do, and part of the process of observation and learning in general: Risk and reward. Even helming this operation is a risk in and of itself. Why should that deter me from trying?”

“You don’t know Yosuke,” you tell him certainly. “He seems far more impersonal to you if you don’t involve him in most of what goes down here. I can tell that even if you need him, you don’t have much of a connection with him.”

The Overseer raises a subtle brow. “Is that so, girl? You know little of our relationship.”

“Then am I wrong, sir?” You question him. “He means little to you, I’m sure. You couldn’t quell him on your own. I know he’s much more like Mo—”

You stop yourself and promptly correct the name by which you refer to Mom.

“—Vanessa. If punishments aren’t enough, then only I will be. Just as One is what keeps her attention, I am what keeps Yosuke’s.”

“What are you proposing, precisely?”

You hesitate. You might have just been speaking out of desperation. But now that you have the man’s attention, you can’t afford to lose it.

“I don’t want to give into him,” you admit. “Even though I almost did once, I can’t. I hate him, but I also need him, and I think he needs me. If you let me keep my memory, I will continue knowing how to work him, to please him. I know how he is after spending time with him. It’s something I don’t think you would have ever done. You don’t know his particular ticks.”

“Do you?”

“What I don’t know I will continue to learn as I spend more time with him. The point is that I have a presence that you don’t. A connection that you don’t. You speak of women like they’re pawns, so let me be one. If I can hold onto the things I know of him, I will try to give into him when I think he’s about to act up again. I’ve been able to do it before. I’ve been able to let him have me. And after everything I’ve been put through, I think I can manage whatever else he does to me.”

The Overseer glances down at the syringe in his hand and flicks it.

“And what of the things you’ve learned here, Ten? What I’ve shown you, what you’ve no doubt extracted from Gale? And Lucius of course.”

He eyes his gunman across from across your chair, though with a less stern look than he used with you.

“I’m no fool. I’m sure he’s told you things of his own, even if I don’t know precisely what. I know very well how he can be.”

Lucius chuckles privately to himself.

“My apologies, sir,” he says humbly to his superior. “I meant no harm.”

The Overseer says nothing of this to him, though you wager he’s nowhere near as furious as he would be with you. Nonetheless, he continues to focus back on you. His grey eyes flicker to your worried face once more.

“I remind you again, girl. You’re chatty. How can I be sure you won’t repeat the same mistakes you’ve made?”

You grimace slightly, but do try to keep your focus affixed to the blond doctor.

“I can only give you my word on that,” you humble yourself. “I know very well not to cross you again. You said yourself my lesson was learned. So the only thing I can think of to do is what One has—keep to myself the horrible things I know.”

“Is your word enough? I know well your attachment to him and a few others. Even if you keep your lips sealed for some, there’s no guarantee you will for them. Even One has spoken of things I don’t entirely prefer he do.”

“We both know that only you can decide that. But I promise I’ll do as much as I can to follow you. I can promise nothing else. I have nothing else. I would only need to know just what you’d allow me to say, and to whom. The others, they’ll want to know where I’ve been. I will never tell them things I’ve learned about the facility, about your procedures, about how things work here. But…I have to tell them something. I merely need to know what boundaries and limits you intend to set.”

“I presume you’re going to say that’s for me to decide as well?” The Overseer questions with a slight cock of his head.

“I’m again at your mercy, sir,” you quietly tell him in agreement. “I’ve made the only defenses I can.”

“Do you believe you know my intentions? Do you claim to know what decision I will make?”

“No, sir. I can’t predict you.”

The Overseer pauses and again eyes his syringe, his grey irises focusing on the thing as he loses himself temporarily in thought.

“I see,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me something to think about.”

He then looks up at his partner from across him and calls out,

“Lucius.”

Without having to be told what to do, Lucius obeys his superior’s word and starts to move. He pushes his elbow off the metal rod by you and moves behind you, fiddling with something that you aren’t sure what it is, but that lets out a rather loud and brief hissing noise, as if pressure has been released from something.

When he returns to your sight, you see a long tube that trails to a plastic mask in his hand, one with a band hanging from the sides of it. Your eyes widen when you see the thing, and your fingers again curl into the padding on your armrests. You somehow know what this is for, without even having to think about it.

“W-what…?!” You give a mindless, fearful gasp as you eye the object, your heart pounding even more heavily as Lucius starts to bring it to your face and pull the band over your head. “Wait!”

“If you truly mean to humble yourself before me, then take this,” The Overseer remarks form beside you when he sees you starting to turn your head away from the plastic thing before you. Lucius pauses his attempts to cover your face with the mask as he lets his superior speak. “If my intentions are uncertain to you, and you truly accept that fact, then don’t fight against what comes. Either you will wake up and be certain that I permitted you to keep your memory, or you will wake up and never even know that it was an issue to begin with. The only other alternative than that is not ever waking up again.”

He steps slowly toward the head of your chair, and you tilt your head up a bit to look frightfully into his eyes. The light brightens the outer surface of his body, yet his face remains bathed in shadow.

The Overseer takes his free hand and places it delicately upon the top of your head, the feeling of his latex gloves brushing against your roots and scalp. His face remains stagnant, though his eyes are focused upon you with an unshaken gaze.

“Trust me before I can even consider trusting you,” he tells you. “If you’re so obedient, show it to me.”

You look up at the man with horror in your eyes, your body trembling as it lays restricted in your chair. You don’t have a choice.

All the time you spent readying yourself wasn’t nearly enough to completely quell your anxieties about this moment, but it prepared you enough to face it. Were you brought here sooner, you know you’d have completely broken.

Knowing there’s no reason to fight it, you try to swallow your fears and remain obedient and humble before the man who holds your fate in his hand.

No words escape your lips. All you can manage to do is give a light nod. You bring your head back into its normal position and shut your eyes, awaiting your slumber. With the quiet say-so of The Overseer, Lucius then moves to cover your face with the plastic mask. You aren’t sure how long you lay there, but a wave of dizziness feels as if it hits you rather immediately after inhaling whatever it is you’re being given. It’s much stronger than what you’ve been given before, you find.

It becomes horrendously difficult to concentrate, to keep your fingers tightly wound around the padded surface of your armrests. All you can do is lay there and drift away. Despite having your eyes shut, you try to open them to glimpse what the men might be doing. The last thing you really remember seeing is the sight of the pulse on the right screen before you slowly rising and ebbing, no longer as sharp and jagged as it once was. You can’t even bring yourself to think about your situation anymore. Everything’s foggy.

In moments, you’re completely gone.

Chapter 68: Adjourn

The air is cold when you awake from your spell. The dark behind your eyelids blocks whatever light is in the reflecting off of the white walls of the room. Even with your eyes shut, the bright stings just a bit, and attempting to flutter your eyes open proves impossible just for now. You opt to simply lay where you are behind the dark veil until it no longer bothers you to lift it.

As your legs weakly shuffle around and your feet slowly attempt to move, you feel the sliding of smooth sheets against your flesh. Attempting to move your arms, however, tells a different story.

There’ something restricting your wrists, something cold and metallic and thin. Upon tugging wearily at your restraints, you think you’re handcuffed to the bars of whatever bed you’re in. It’s this revelation that causes your eyes to finally open. By now, you are indeed accustomed to the light.

Your vision is assaulted by white: A white ceiling, white walls, even a white floor from what little of it you can see from your bed. The sheets of the bed are even as white as everything else, like snow or ice. This is, you think, some kind of medical bed.

Looking down reveals even more of the bright shade—this time a whitely gowned body. When you look to your right at your wrist, you see that there are indeed silver handcuffs. One on each wrist, you find. They’re attached to long metal bars that extend along the sides of your bed, as you suspected.

Everything in your mind is horrendously foggy. You can’t really even bring yourself to think clearly about where you are or why. The sensation is familiar to you, but you can’t place it. Your head is dizzy and confused. Though your body is undoubtedly still, you feel as if the room is swirling around you, as if your body is being spun relentlessly. It’s disorienting.

Picking your head up from the pillow beneath it reveals that the room isn’t astonishingly big. However, there are five other beds present—two to your left and right, and three across from you aligned with the other beds on your side. Each bed you can see is also surrounded by different things. A long, thin silver pole sits on one side of each bed. Beneath it are tanks of some kind with tubes flowing from their tops. An unusual machine with a screen that you suppose is for monitoring vitals sits on the other side. Most of these beds are open, but one is hidden away by a white cloth curtain that blankets and encircles the thing entirely, blocking any view of whoever’s in it. There is such a curtain hanging from each bed, from metal rods affixed to the ceiling above them.

Someone is absolutely here with you, but you hardly hear any stirring but your own. The only other sound you can make out is a light steady hissing, but it’s fairly faint from where you are. You’re honestly a little grateful for this noise—it shakes the quiet that you feel might have numbed your ears were you stuck in it long enough.

There’s a machine and screen of your own to your right. The screen hovering above you is on and displaying a volley of unusual line data differentiated by color. Numbers and abbreviations upon the screen’s face mean little to you. They’re incomprehensible anyway.

This entire setting looks like some kind of ward. You aren’t sure why you know that, but it’s not an unusual sight. You’re sure you’ve seen something like this in films or in historical photos. You just can’t fully think about what kinds of each you may have witnessed.

Any attempt to focus leaves you even dizzier than you already are. It’s hard to place where you were before this, or what your name is, or anything at all. You’re too out of it.

What about speech?

You attempt to croak a confused “hello?” upon realizing that the room is empty. You aren’t sure if you’re being monitored by anyone. There’s a set of metallic double doors somewhere against a wall to your right, but nobody’s come through them yet,

Upon opening your mouth, only a dry rasp comes out. Your throat, you find, is quite parched. All you can do now is lay in wait for someone to come get you. The uncertainty of your situation is too terrifying, though. Why are you handcuffed? Where are you, and why? The answers feel familiar to you, but in your dazed state, you just can’t reach what you seek. It’s frustrating and frightening all at once. Being able to see the visibly fast pace of your heartbeat on the screen beside you certainly doesn’t help.

Only after a long quiet bout of uncomfortable silence do the double doors slide open, and from behind them emerges a man and some kind of unusual female figure shrouded in thick white clothes and a black gas mask of some sort. The sight of both figures leaves you nervous, and you aren’t sure why. You know them, you think. Why you do remains difficult to parse.

The clothed female figure is wheeling forward a cart of some kind. On the top of it is bottles of water and a clipboard, though you don’t doubt there’s more on the lower rungs of the thing as well. The blond man leading her in is frighteningly frigid. His grey eyes are somehow familiar to you. They unwind your nerves and leave your palms and fingers shaking as if by instinct. You know this man too, but you’re again far too groggy and dazed to think of why.

“I see you’ve recovered somewhat,” the man notes upon reaching your bedside. He taps the screen beside you with a blackly gloved finger and examines a few of its readings, mindlessly reaching for the clipboard on the cart while he does so. He then scribbles something on a page that’s flat against the hard surface, quietly noting something while you remain laying there, unnerved.

You want to ask a flurry of questions about your situation, but somehow you know to keep quiet. This man looks like one not to be trifled with, judging by the unexpressive yet horrendously stern look upon his face.

He flickers his grey eyes toward you as he feels your gaze upon him.

“Relay your physical state to me,” he commands you. If he’s a doctor, he’s certainly unpleasant and crude judging by his tone. Though, you aren’t sure what he means. He can see by the confused stare you relay that you need elaboration, and so he gives it. “Tell me how you are feeling, girl. Your body, your mind, whether you feel pain or discomfort. Be as thorough as you can in your state.”

“I…” your voice continues to rasp. This upsets the man who huffs a bit of breath through his nose and slightly lowers his clipboard. He shifts his attention to the nurse and calls out a sharp, “N5, water.”

The woman obeys, her gloved hands and darkly clothed arm reaching over to the tray and picking up one of the bottles of water. She uncaps it and tilts it carefully toward your lips, letting a bit of the liquid spill out. You eagerly suck it up, the cool feeling of water touching your tongue sending you into a frenzied urge to quench your thirst.

“T-thank you,” you give a bit of gratitude to her as she caps the bottle again and sets it aside. Though, she says nothing and merely nods politely. With your voice no longer so raspy, you finally answer the man awaiting your response. He again brings the clipboard in his hands up and places the tip of the pen in his left hand to the page.

“I feel dizzy,” you tell him. “My body feels a bit weak and fluttery. I can’t really remember anything right now either. I’m tired, I’m confused…”

You clench your fists.

“W-who am I? Where am I? Why am I cuffed to this bed?”

The man scribbles rapidly upon his page while you speak, though he pauses the moment you ask these things.

“No questions,” he commands strictly. “You’re still dazed, so I will remind you only once to be quiet and speak only when spoken to.”

You look away nervously upon hearing this. He intends to give you no answers. You’ll have to find them yourself.

“You’re coming up from heavy anesthesia,” you’re reminded, since you apparently have forgotten. “Someone put you on oxygen earlier, though you were stable enough to be without it after a while. Anesthesia often results in the confusion and dizziness you feel now.”

He pauses his writing to look up at your face.

“Memory loss is also quite common. Tell me now what you remember.”

“I don’t know,” you admit upon thinking about it slightly. “I’m too out of it, I think. I feel like the room is spinning.”

“That will wear off,” you’re told. “Such issues typically arise with certain kinds of anesthesia. Some forms of it even cause lingering effects years after a patient is put under. That isn’t the case with what we use, and your body is young and versatile enough for it not to affect you that way, so you have no excuse. Attempt to remember something for me.”

“Remember what?”

“Anything at all. I needn’t be so repetitive.”

The man’s pen tip remains still atop the page, awaiting your word for a reason to write.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you attempt to concentrate on what was asked. Attempting to remember who you are only hurts your head and leaves it with a strange static-y feeling that’s somehow even more dizzying than just coming up from the anesthesia. Yet, you oddly know the uncomfortable sensation.

It begins to hurt the more you think on things you can’t remember, until you’re forced to let out a light, pained groan. The man by your bedside notes this on his paper.

“What were you attempting to recall?”

“Who I am,” you manage to get out upon recovering from the discomfort. You stop trying to remember this quite promptly and open your eyes again to look over at the two beside you.

“Very good,” The blond man mindlessly remarks as he finishes writing his statement on this. “Attempt to remember something else.”

“You mean like why I’m here?”

“If you so prefer it.”

You try to recall this as well. Anything from before your immediate anesthetization remains unreachable, but you find it doesn’t bring any discomfort or pain to try thinking about it.

“I tried remembering what happened before this, but I can’t,” you relay to the doctor. “But it doesn’t hurt this time.”

“Good.”

Again, you watch the doctor scribble on his page before turning it over.

“Do you know me?”

You crinkle your brows as you assess your doctor carefully. His light skin, his blond hair, the earing in his right ear, the grey vest and white shirt he dons beneath his white coat…

Yes, you recognize him. You know this man. You just can’t remember why. Even when he first stepped in, your heart beat wildly upon catching sight of him.

“I don’t know you,” you say. “But I also do.”

“You mean you can’t quite place it,” answers the doctor coldly as he scribbles more notes. “You may recall certain details again once the anesthesia slowly wears off. How soon varies between subjects.”

Subjects?! You remain taken aback. Are you some kind of a lab rat?

“You have always tended to recover quickly. I suppose that’s the only positive thing I can say about you.”

Your eyes widen. “So I do know you. We’ve met.”

“Yes.” The man then lowers his clipboard. “We know each other. Not particularly well, but there is a familiarity nonetheless.”

“Are you-“

“I said no questions, girl,” you’re snapped at. “Wait and think a moment. It should come to you soon.“

He then waves the back of his blackly gloved hand at the woman who’s been standing patiently at his side for a while. She gives a polite bow and takes the wheeled cart away from you, instead bringing it to the bed hidden away. Since she enters from a side that’s out of your sight, you don’t get to see who’s in the bed.

“Look at me,” the doctor beside you instructs coldly, grabbing hold of your jaw and guiding your distracted gaze toward him. You watch him with a wide-eyed look. The texture of his gloved fingers is chilling to you as it brushes against your skin.

“Try to remember my face,” you’re promptly instructed. “That seems to be the thing you’re most respondent to. Perhaps it will act as a trigger.”

“Trigger…?”

“Don’t speak,” the doctor spits back, tightening the grip he has on your jaw. His latex-dressed fingers firmly press into your flesh. “Think.”

Your fists again clench out of nervousness as you observe the doctor’s sharp face and tired, stern eyes. He continues to frighten you even now, but you can’t place just why. You aren’t afraid of him because of mere uncertainty—you have a reason, you think.

“S-sir please,” you beg mindlessly. “I’m scared.”

“Be quiet,” is the doctor’s bitter retort. “Don’t lose yourself. Focus.”

You suck in a breath between your teeth in the hopes that it will help calm you down. Not willing to make the man gripping your jaw tightly any angrier, you try to keep focused despite your nervousness. You shut your eyes again tightly and try to recall why you know this doctor. His mannerisms, his voice, his appearance, the way he calls you “girl”—it’s all familiar to you somehow. You even bothered to call him “sir” of all things. The utterance felt known to your lips.

Slowly, you’re able to recall an unusual memory, but one fairly vague.

“I-I remember a dark room,” you say quietly, almost as if whispering it. “And a man. Not you, but another one. I think?”

“What else?”

What does he mean “what else”?! This is difficult to do. You’re still so out of it. You’re still so confused. All you can come up with are fragmented pieces of information. Names that mean nothing right now, places that you can’t remember having been to. White walls dotted with colors and shapes of people you think you know.

“C-Cyrus?” You mindlessly ask, opening your eyes and looking up into your doctor’s grey eyes. “is that your name?”

“No,” He says with an embittered frown. “What an odd association. Or perhaps you merely can’t help but cling to his name even now.”

Who? The name sounds important to you, but it’s hard to think.

The doctor finally withdraws his hand from your jaw and proceeds to write more on his clipboard. “Nonetheless, this is a surprisingly significant progression. I expected much less given the usual lingering effects of this kind of anesthetization. You respond well to fear. Do continue.”

You give a bothered, exhausted sigh. This is taxing. You just woke up. You need time to recuperate! However, you comply with the man’s order and keep racking your brain for answers. More names come to mind, as do numbers for some reason. It then dawns on you.

“My name…” you mumble, catching your callous doctor’s attention. “My name is Ten.”

“Correct,” is the response you’re given. “What else?”

“There are other people here,” you guess, though this sounds correct. “Numbers…people…? I’m remembering names but I don’t know whose they are.”

“Repeat them.”

You pause and try to produce such names, recounting each one slowly. You can visualize people associated with each. Individuals of varying age and sex. Speaking the names aloud is even more familiar to you.

“Good,” you’re praised, though the doctor’s tone sounds anything but kind. His approval comes out dry and uninterested even if his words tell otherwise. “More.”

“More?” You squeak. “I don’t know…”

“You correctly recalled each Number. However, there’s one doctor you’ve left out. I suspect because you fight so desperately against him that you’d rather not remember even though the anesthesia’s effects can’t protect you from remembering for long.”

You try to think hard. You recalled just about every doctor you can remember. There were ten, excluding this man and the other man you briefly recalled. Weren’t there only ten?

No, that’s not right. There are ten numbers, not doctors. You have forgotten someone after all. There’s a man…a man who’s left a horrible impression on you through all the things he’s done. You remember now.

“Yosuke.” Your heart sinks.

The doctor by your bedside nods in affirmation. “And i?”

Remembering Yosuke’s name only makes everything else come flooding back. Your eyes widen as you finally recall your confinement to this place, the facility. You remember your number, your friends, your captivity, and…

“You’re The Overseer,” you quietly whisper in surprise. “You’re the head of this operation.”

You trail off as you watch The Overseer quietly write more of his notes down, nearly reaching the end of the back of his page now.

“Very good.” The Overseer does not look at you, but you’re sure he’s aware of your observance of him. You slightly tug at your cuffs at the uncomfortable realization of your situation. You remember everything. Both pleasant memories of your family and unpleasant memories of your abuse come to light all at once, flooding your mind and leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

“You let me keep my memory…” You finally come to realize this.

“Yes,” is The Overseer’s blunt reply. He then pins his pen to the clip of the board and drops the thing by his side, letting it hand loosely in his hand.

“I’m your prisoner,” you relay quietly.

The Overseer flickers his eye from the screen with your vitals back to your face. “Yes.”

He then reaches a hand over and again clutches your jaw. From the corner of your eye, you then see the nurse from earlier withdrawing from the bed where the other patient is. You continue to see none of him, but now suppose that it’s either another worker, or another subject.

The nurse has an emptied syringe of some kind in her hand which she places on the tray atop the cart she’s been wheeling. You aren’t sure what it was she injected the other person with if not anesthetic, but you also aren’t sure you want to know. You also can’t help but wonder why Lucius isn’t the one helping with this task, unless of course he’s busy. It irks you to remember him vividly now.

The heels of the nurse’s boots clack against the hard white floor as she begins to wheel her cart back to The Overseer’s side. One of the bottles of water is empty now, you notice.

“Ten.” You’re snapped back to attention at the sound of the stern Overseer’s voice calling your number.

“The strain of Mnemosyne you received long ago has proved effective,” he remarks when your gaze meets his. “A bit too much, in fact. You lost memories not only of your life, but of skills and information that others were fortunate enough to retain. Nonetheless, you have proven to be a resilient thing. It is equally intriguing as it is frustrating. I have decided to put that resilience to good use rather than merely stifle it alone.”

He frowns.

“Are you aware now, Ten? Are you awake and able to listen?”

“Y-yes sir.” Upon the continued tremoring of your hands, you keep them tightly balled up in fists to quell the sensation. Your breaths deepen as your quickened heartbeat persists even now.

“You are equally to act as my pawn as you are my prisoner,” The Overseer says firmly. “I have allowed you to keep your memory so that you may act as such and so that I may test you. I do not at all believe you will commit to the obedient devotions you’ve so dearly attempted to feign for the sake of survival. But you may yet prove me wrong. I will give you that chance.

“I expect you to keep your doctor in sorts. And I expect you to make good on your promise to stay quiet about what you know with the other prisoners. If for any reason you attempt to utter what you are barred from uttering, I will not hesitate to come for you. Personally.”

The Overseer’s eyebrows furrow and crinkle together as he gives a stern glower. “My emergence will be unscheduled and unannounced. If you disobey, I will take you when I choose. You will sit in fear knowing that I will come, but not when. You acquired a partial familiarity with my weapon prior, but if you cross me again and disobey my word again, you will know the object well when I finally put one of its bullets in your hollow head. Is that understood?”

You persist in looking The Overseer I the eyes. The lump in your throat persists, but you attempt to swallow it so that you may speak.

“Yes sir.”

You then glance over at your handcuffs and instinctively give your rightmost wrist a light tug.

“Is this necessary if you know with certainty that I won’t attempt to hurt you?”

“Completely,” you’re told straight-faced. “It’s a precautionary measure. I’m being lenient with you. That doesn’t mean I fully trust you.”

“Then why be so gracious and allow me to keep my memory, then?”

The Overseer lets out a huff of breath through his nose, though his expression does not change.

“Don’t get so comfortable with asking me things so casually, girl,” he chides you with a harsh tone. “You want to respect me, so respect me.”

You look away. “Yes sir…sorry.”

It’s difficult to understand why it is The Overseer insists you’re not special while he gives you so many chances. With someone like Cyrus, you’re certain it’s because of his value as a long-term patient. Observing him must yield a goldmine of results. But you? Why?

The Overseer was once adamant about hurting you. But ever since your near-fatal brush with him, he’s treated you differently. He’s still callous and cold, but he’s been far too forgiving by comparison. You can’t piece together why, but you won’t have an opportunity to learn anyway. It’s pointless to overthink it now, but you do keep it in the back of your mind, among many other things.

A silence remains between the both of you until another bout of hissing from behind the curtain of the other patient breaks it. You figure it’s from an oxygen tank for whoever’s there. Will they wake up soon too?

“My decisions should not be questioned,” you’re reminded then by The Overseer as he turns his head to watch your pulse on the monitor. “You are to merely accept what you’re given and refrain from looking a gift horse in the mouth. However, I will permit any questions you have about this arrangement. Now that you’re nearly recovered from your slumber, you will be returning to your doctor and the humdrum rhythm you were once so accustomed to. Now is the time to ask what you must.”

You again shift your gaze back to The Overseer’s face, finding that it’s again become unexpressive and stagnant while he observes your vitals. You think he’s only doing it mindlessly since he has all the information he needs from you. What could possibly be on that man’s mind?

It’s also jarring how close you are to going back. It doesn’t at all feel real. A part of you honestly wonders if you’re being tricked.

There’s another fear that then stems in your mind—you remember things about your confinement, but is there anything The Overseer took away that you don’t know? Is anything missing? You suppose targeting specific memories within memories would be a challenge, but you also suspect that such a case applies to Monica. As it is, The Overseer has apparently been able to wipe specific memories of one entire person among a group of people, the way he did with the previous Ten. You don’t doubt he has the power to take away whatever he likes. How it works is beyond you. Are drugs not hard to control when it comes to such specific things?

You realize, then, that you’re taking quite a long time to answer. Despite this, The Overseer remains patient, awaiting your allotted questions. He seems to know you need time to respond, but you won’t linger in silence much longer knowing his temporary bout of patience will eventually wear thin.

“I’d like to know what limits you’ll set for me,” you finally ask. “I think I remember mentioning it before you put me under.”

The Overseer’s gaze does not move from the screen. “Regarding?”

“What I’m allowed to tell and who I’m allowed to tell it to.”

“You’re barred from speaking of any procedural knowledge of this place,” is the doctor’s prompt reply. “Nothing about what you may have witnessed with Lucius, nor anything discussed with Monica except for the fact that you are impregnable.”

He finally then shifts his grey eyes toward your face again.

“That should right scare them. Whether you want to make it known is up to you,” he says without hesitation. “I imagine that should put a heavy strain on your unusual relationship with those you’re far closer to.”

Your eyes drop down as you realize this truth. Telling Lav and Cyrus that you can get pregnant is only going to make things hard since they’ll know at any moment you might leave them again. It’d be especially taxing for Cyrus after everything that happened with Jade. You almost feel guilty, even though none of this exactly your fault.

“You’re welcome to discuss other aspects of reproduction that you spoke of with Monica if you so choose. The others female subjects are, to my knowledge, fairly aware of the concept of blood.”

“And I wasn’t?”

The Overseer huffs. “As I said, Mnemosyne was rather potent in its effects on you. No doubt the others assumed you were safe since you hadn’t gone through your cycle while there. I certainly wish I didn’t have to waste my time dealing with it, but I’ve always known fate to be quite unforgiving, even in small ways.”

You brush this comment aside and focus on the initial topic. “What do I tell the others if they ask where I’ve been?”

“Simply that you can’t remember,” remarks The Overseer in a rather dry tone. “Or at least that you can’t remember specifically. You may relay that you were confined, but no more than that and the few things you learned that I’ve permitted you to speak of. You’re a stubborn girl, but you now know the value of strategic silence as One does. I will let you figure a method of discussion out on your own.”

“And what can I tell those closest to me?”

The Overseer frowns. “I’d much prefer you stay completely silent to them, but evidently that is near impossible for someone like you. You will no doubt attempt to find a way around my restrictions and only get yourself foolishly killed. I will permit you to speak more openly of where you’ve been with them if you so prefer, but you still are completely barred from discussing any kind of procedure at this facility.”

“Am I not allowed to talk about you or Lucius?” You question, again looking into the man’s eyes.

“No,” you’re bluntly told. “You may mention our existence to those close to you. I’m certain you’ve already mentioned it before, so I can’t help them knowing it now. But you may not discuss personal affairs between my associate and I. We will remain faceless and nameless to our prisoners. Only you will know who we are. If the others begin to ask questions, refuse them.”

“Yes sir,” you acknowledge obediently, though you again drop your eyes to the side. “And the video feeds? Jade?”

“Speak of the long-gone number Eleven as you like, so long as your words do not reveal procedural knowledge of this operation” The Overseer permits this. “The girl is not at all important to this place anymore.”

You wonder whether that means you can talk about her doctor too. The Overseer knows that you and Lucius spoke of things you probably shouldn’t, after all. So him knowing precisely what might not be an issue anymore. Not like you can tell anyone about Richard but Lav and Eight, though. Cyrus shouldn’t hear about it, or anything at all about Jade until he’s ready to hear and accept what happened. You’d imagine he’s still reeling from the loss even though he’s managed to accept she won’t come back. And after you return, he will probably be in a sorry state because of your departure. It’s better not to bother him with such a horrible truth now.

“The feeds, however, are strictly off limits.,” The Overseer’s voice snaps you back to attention. “I’m sure the others have supposed there may be cameras, but do not make known that there are unless the topic comes up naturally and it’s impossible to avoid discussing them. I’ll leave that up to you. But as I said, most occurrences during your confinement and most extracted information from Lucius and Monica is off limits, as are most things you discussed with Gale. You are permitted to mention that you saw both doctors beyond Lucius and myself should the topic come up, but don’t divulge information about your visits with either of them beyond what I’ve permitted.”

You let out a long sigh. This is all so confusing. As it is, you’re still dizzied from waking up and recovering from your long sleep.

“It’s simple,” The Overseer remarks as he catches sight of your perplexed and bothered expression, as if he knows well how confused you are without you having to verbalize it. “Don’t threaten my work or my privacy. I will be ever gracious and allow you to be slightly more open with those who already know more than others, but only to the extent that the first statement is continually followed. As I have said before, you are a magnet for unnecessary attention. You have apparently attracted the attention of those who know more than anyone. It’s a frustration I will begrudgingly accept and work around.”

The metal of the cuffs slides and clinks about as you tug against your restraints. “And what if I mess up and say something because I wasn’t sure I should or could?! I’m bound to get stuck on something. Will you just kill me for a simple mistake?”

“If you have to ask whether I’d allow you to discuss something, then take the safer gamble and make the assumption that I don’t permit it,” The Overseer gives his answer. “You will be watched closely. I am not stupid or particularly rash. If you make a genuine mistake, I will find a way to give you warning. I expect you’ll correct yourself promptly.”

“Yes sir,” you mutter in response. “I understand. But…”

“But?” The Overseer raises a vexed blond brow.

“What about the other doctors? What do I tell them if they ask about my confinement?”

“Mm, they are sometimes more curious than need be,” The Overseer admits this without question. “They already know much about this place and how I run it, yet not as much as they think. Don’t be specific about what happened or what you know. However, I will permit you speaking openly of things with Gale, whom I suspect you’ve told plenty already. The need for secrecy between the both of you is no longer necessary after what Smith pulled. I have use for them as a messenger anyway, and I don’t question that they’ll report to me if it means their eagerness to speak with and observe you up close without restriction is quelled. I’ll make sure they help me keep an eye on things.”

No doubt Gale is still fairly loyal to The Overseer despite their setback. While you want to think that it’s stupid for him to assume Gale wouldn’t pull something, you also recall Gale expressing some admiration and devotion to the man despite the beating they received, and the ones they likely have received before. Gale had even refrained from saying certain things. So you don’t think they’ll break their boss’ word too hard now that everything’s said and done with.

“As for the others,” The Overseer goes on, “tell them you met Lucius and I if you so like. Because of what they do know regarding this facility’s procedure, you may speak more openly of things you’ve learned aside from anything particularly personal to anyone here. For instance, you saw how Lilah reacted to you, and heard her speak openly about once being close with us. Do not bring that kind of thing up. You are not to dig for information about my employees. Not only does the information hardly help you, but it’s an invasion of the line of privacy I expect to remain intact between us and our prisoners. I understand that some doctors have the tendency to be open about their personal lives on their own. For some, I will permit it. For others, I will not.”

You’re certain he means those who are closest to his inner circle, or perhaps he's explicitly referring to any detail of the doctors’ previous lives that surrounds the facility itself or their being inducted into it. Then, this means that anything you overheard about Milos, Mom, and Lilah is completely off limits. But you aren’t entirely sure how that’s monitored, or if it even is. It’s dependent upon the honesty of the doctors toward their superior, their willingness to stay silent about specific details, and whether the Numbers’ rooms have any kind of surveillance. But again, with how much you’ve gotten away with saying within the walls of each room, you figure cameras are not exactly an issue. Perhaps you could get away with asking Yosuke or any other doctors you know are more secretive a thing or two. But you’d have to play your cards right in that regard. It’s overall a risky idea.

“What about my doctor specifically?” You inquire eagerly. “He’s going to want to know most of all what happened to me. He’ll want me to be specific. I remember him being very persistent about that sort of thing.”

“Tell him whatever you like,” you’re permitted. “So long as it does not conflict with my statement from before. Mention nothing of Lucius and I beyond the professional, and don’t be specific about the things you’ve learned of this operation. It’s not his place to know everything since his duties are primarily aboveground. But comments about your general confinement, what we put you through, and even a few things you have learned, I will permit.”

“Won’t him knowing what I went through only make him mad?”

The Overseer remains unexpressive. “Likely so. But he knows better than to do something rash, especially after losing you once.”

You again look away, downtrodden suddenly as a realization hits you.

“For the longest time, I’ve found it hard to give into him. I’ve always been resistant. He knows what I’m like. Any deviation from my old self will just cause him to catch wind of our arrangement, I’m sure. He’ll notice I’m acting different and take advantage of my willingness to listen to him more than I used to.”

“That isn’t my problem,” The Overseer sharply remarks. “It only will be when it starts to affect either of our work. So deal with it. Your only role is to keep him at bay so that I have one less arising problem. Satisfy him if that’s what it takes. You know how to act a certain way when you have to. You’ve done well to show me that for the sake of your own survival.”

Part of that was hardly an act. You did want to survive, and you still do. But it’s become easier to humble yourself before The Overseer while still holding onto your will all the same.

“And what if he grows tired of me? Bored?”

“That’s not for you to worry about, but I very much doubt he will. Must I remind you to quit asking pointless questions?”

“I apologize.”

The Overseer glowers again. “You’re not clear of danger, girl. Remember that. Now more than ever, it’s pivotal for you to be careful and alert. I needn’t remind you.”

You slowly close your eyes and let out another long puff of breath. “It’s back to business then. After all this time…”

“Don’t cry to me about how difficult adjusting back to it will be,” you’re told with a harsh tone. “You’re no child, so I expect you not to act like one. I’m not your guardian. I’m your warden. Your guardian is Yosuke.”

“I always assumed it was whoever had me under their wing,” you mindlessly mumble. You then snap back to attention and correct yourself, stammering all the while. “I-I mean…I didn’t mean to speak loosely again, sir…”

The Overseer glances down at you without expression a moment, as if assessing you. This leaves a nervous pit in your stomach, but the doctor luckily does nothing against you. He instead turns to the nurse then and bids her to unhook you from the machine, ultimately ignoring your stammering remark. Only upon hearing this order are you suddenly made more aware of the fact that there have been wires running under your gown this entire time. You’d not noticed them since they felt less intrusive than the first time you ever woke up with them on.

The nurse lifts your gown, her gloved fingers brushing against the skin of your stomach as she does it. You glance nervously down and watch her pull off the flat sticky pads dotting your torso. Though the sensation is purely procedural, it still makes you blush a bit with embarrassment to be touched this way, especially in front of a man whose gaze is fixated strictly on your face, all without expression. It’s been a while since you’ve been delicately handled. The last time you can really recall is when Gale fulfilled your desperate request at one of your lowest moments.

Even Lucius sent you off with a kiss, you think. You don’t much remember that being pleasant, though. In all honesty, a lot of what happened between you leaving the room and now is fuzzy. The only thing you absolutely can’t mistake is the fear you felt facing The Overseer then, and a majority of what was discussed while you were restricted in his frightful theater. Perhaps the man was right to say fear evokes such a strong response in you.

Saying that in your head only makes you remember the images you conjured in dreams prior to this. You distinctly remember the sight of Lucius aiming his gun at you and feeling a genuine sense of dread and horror. No doubt you’ve cowered before the man before all this. He was, after all, responsible for kidnapping you. Was that even a dream, then? Trying to remember his face in a moment like that only hurts your head.

When the nurse is done dealing with you, she pulls your gown back down over your legs and leaves you be so that she can clean up and put away the tangling wires. The Overseer, meanwhile, moves in and brings out a key from his pocket.

He doesn’t have to remind you not to move as he undoes the cuff closest to him. Even when you’re freed, you curl your fingers around the sheets beneath you and look away while The Overseer comes around to the other side. He steps slowly and watches you closely, but he knows quite well you won’t do anything. You won’t risk it, especially not after you were just given the privilege of keeping your memory.

“Sit up,” you’re commanded when both wrists are freed. The rails of your bed are then dropped by the nurse while you follow the given order. Oddly, sitting up after being put under with even heavier stuff than what you have been accustomed to is difficult, but you manage it at your own pace.

You figure that The Overseer wants you to prepare to stand, so you do swivel your legs tiredly over the bedside and clutch the edge of the mattress tightly. However, you don’t yet attempt to stand without a deliberate say-so.

The doors at the other end of the room then suddenly open, and you turn your head slightly to try seeing it from behind you. At the entrance is Lucius, dressed in a coat just like his boss. He’s ferrying a plastic pouch, puffed up by how full it is with some kind of clear solution that almost looks like water.

Lucius walks in and catches sight of his superior and you quite immediately, then flashes his familiar, eerie smile. You lower your brows slightly as you see him, none too pleased to make his acquaintance yet again. He does not immediately come to your side, rather focusing on the other person in the room with you and retreating behind the curtain surrounding their bed. You figure he’s giving whoever’s there some kind of IV.

“Ten,” The Overseer calls to you, again grabbing your attention. You turn back toward him and look up upon his stern face. “Act as you like when you return within the limitations that were set before all this. Nothing much changes beyond what you know and what I expect of you. If you insist on being so sour toward the other doctors and intend to keep struggling, I won’t much care. But don’t let your time back in your old routine unravel everything you’ve learned here.”

He lifts your chin.

“You’re a stubborn thing, but have learned to be something of a well-behaved puppet in my presence,” The Overseer remarks as he watches your nervous expression. “I fully expect such doggish obedience toward Lucius and I. The others aren’t my concern in that regard. But don’t act aloof just because I’m not barking at your heels. Continue to carry out your obedient behavior toward me even out there. I will be watching you.”

“Y-yes sir,” the familiar phrase comes out quietly from your lips. The Overseer’s cold, grey gaze remains unshaken as it fixates on your own uneasy eyes. Nonetheless, you don’t glance away this time.

By now, Lucius has finished his simple task and checked on the other person. You hear his footsteps head toward you now, and soon he’s within your sight as he stands behind his boss. From the corner of your eye, you see a cuff in his hand, one meant for you.

“The time will eventually come when we see each other again,” The Overseer goes on. “For what reason, and how soon both depend on many things. But until that time, I expect you to remain diligent and follow my words closely.”

He slightly shakes his head.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

“I’ll try, sir,” you tell him, your fingers curling around the edge of the bed as you try to keep yourself together and focused.

The Overseer finally drops his hand and nods over to Lucius.

“Take her back,” he orders him. The words sound foreign to you. “Then we’ll continue.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Lucius acknowledges his superior. He then moves toward you as The Overseer steps away. To your surprise, he begins to move down the rows of beds toward the exit. You again turn your head to watch him go while simultaneously presenting your wrists for Lucius to cuff. The nurse, having finished her tasks, wheels the cart behind him and obediently follows.

The Overseer is soon gone from your sight, hopefully for a long while. In part, you thought the man might actually escort you himself. But evidently this matter is hardly worth his time. How little he respects you then. Both you and Yosuke.

Knowing that you’re not at all rid of him, The Overseer’s departure brings no relief. The lack of satisfaction in seeing him go only leaves you annoyed. You wanted to at least be a little relieved, but you just aren’t. Because you’re too tired? Too rattled? Why?

All things considered, it’s jarring to think that you’re leaving. You have no idea how long you’ve been confined, but it’s been hellish. Now you’re expected to return to the same business as before, as if it’s easy for you to transition to it. A whole different hell awaits you, but perhaps it’ll be easier to physically take what’s done to you. No doubt it’ll still rattle your emotional state, but you think you’ve become a little more grounded than you once were. Even if it did take countless bouts of abuse to reach this point.

Your head turns back to Lucius, though you don’t bother looking him in the eye. He snaps your cuff shut, and so your arms are restricted before you. Oddly, not behind as they usually are.

“It’s really over?” You question tiredly. Lucius chuckles as he helps you to your feet. Despite his evident coyness, he remains formal. His last kiss goodbye truly was the end of his closer association with you, you’re coming to find.

“Seems so. Let’s not dawdle, now.”

When you turn around, your eyes immediately fixate on the curtain hiding away the other patient in the room with you.

“Who is that?” You ask. Lucius merely nudges you forward, causing you to stumble on your foot a little.

“You know better than to ask,” the man reminds you. “Now smile for the cameras, Ten. You’re the star right now.”

Your eyes flicker up at the ceiling as you attempt again to guess where the cameras might be. You realize, then, that it’s going to be awkward doing a lot of things around the halls and recreational areas knowing that Gale, Lucius, and especially The Overseer will be watching you.

Surely the other Numbers have suspected the use of surveillance. But, as ever, they’re much more used to a lot of things that go on here than you. It’s easier for them to put it aside. Granted, you’ve been propelled far forward after being put through what you have. You never wanted to be, but it seems now you and Cyrus are quite equal in that regard, for very different reasons.

Standing up now feels strange. Your legs are a tinge wobbly after being in a bed so much, and especially after just coming up from anesthesia. It’s not hard to adjust, but you don’t question that you’re quite out of shape after being bound to a bed for a long while. You’ll have to try regaining your physical strength soon. But right now, you just need to focus on merely returning.

“This isn’t a trick, is it?” You ask Lucius as you step onward. Upon passing the curtain concealing the other body in the room, you glance to the side, the urge to know who’s behind it burning in your mind. If it isn’t a worker, it might be the person the two men kidnapped. But you can’t be sure. It’s odd that there aren’t more bodies, if there were three that needed to be worked on to begin with. Unless, of course, The Overseer went off to deal with more procedures as he’d said. You figure the anesthesia only lasted several hours at most.

“You really don’t trust it?” Lucius scoffs slightly. “You’re still very insistent on fighting us, I see. But yes, this is real.”

“After all the tricky things you both pulled in that room, you can’t blame me for being suspicious,” you remark with a frown.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Lucius is just being cheeky based on the smug smirk still sported on his face. Not like it matters. Either you are being tricked, or you really are going back. There’s hardly anything you can do if the former proves true. But you think The Overseer was sincere about all this. If nothing else, he’s been pining to get you out of his hair.

You’re led out of the room, noting that over the door is a nameplate marked RECOVERY. There are other sets of double doors near it, but some are numbered. The only ones that have wording on them list things like LAB, IMAGING, and PROCESSING. You’re curious as to what these places look like, though this is a pointless desire seeing as you’re barred from entering any place outside the recreational areas without escort.

“If this is real…what do I even say to him?” You question aloud. More than anything, you’re just projecting now that you’re a far freer to. Lucius has always been far more lenient than his boss, if a tinge more openly sadistic.

“That’s for you to figure out, isn’t it?” is the dry response you’re given. You suppose this is true, but it’s still hard for you to think of what to do when you see your doctor again. Should you be eager? Surprised? Angry? Will you cry or laugh? You aren’t sure. Even now you can’t exactly place your feelings. It’s certainly not indifference, nor is it fear. You simply can’t entirely believe this is happening. Being confined to The Overseer’s bed started to feel almost…natural after a while.

How sickening.

Lucius does not bother to turn his head and look back at you even upon his speaking. Hell, you could probably attempt to run if you wanted. You wouldn’t get far at all, but you wonder if he’d notice right away if you crept quietly back and then started to flee.

Such an attempt would be fruitless though. You know that even if you could run about freely, there’s still a lot closed off to you. Jay is the only person you ever met who managed to learn a doctor’s code. You wouldn’t ever be able to do that without a long stretch of observation. And thinking on the uncertainty of your state after the gross ordeal with C1 and Lucius, you don’t know if you have that much time. You could turn up pregnant in a few days, or not at all. What a disturbing thought.

With your hands bound before you, it’s easy to reach your stomach. You can’t exactly touch it with your hands because of the awkward positioning, but you do sort of nudge against it with your elbows. Nothing seems out of place, and your mood is hardly much different than usual.

The idea of escape certainly does sound enticing, but you refuse to do anything rash now. Besides, you don’t want to leave anyone behind. You’ve always told yourself this. Even worse is that you’d feel guilty leaving the other prisoners behind too: the Letters, the workers, and anyone else trapped in this facility. But you couldn’t even begin to imagine trying to save everyone. That would be impossible so long as The Overseer and Lucius are present. If the other doctors don’t have weapons, they’re less of a threat to you, but still dangerous. Though it’s not even certain whether they’d attempt to stop you if their boss weren’t around. Mom certainly didn’t. She wanted you to try running once, even invited it.

“Ten,” Lucius’ voice shakes you from your thoughts. You’ve been mindlessly walking in silence all the while, and only now have approached a wide set of double doors. Your escort pauses behind it, then turns to face you.

“Your doctor will be waiting around the corner at the end of the next hall,” he says with a smile. “He’s been called down from his post without knowing why. Shall we surprise him?”

You remain frozen in place, your hands starting to ball in fists before your thighs. Lucius eyes you with amusement.

“Second thoughts?”

You stare on at the metal door without answering. Why are you hesitating now? You can’t understand. You wanted more than anything to get out of your confinement in The Overseer’s room. You’re finally free from it. Why stop so close to the end?

Admittedly, you’re still fairly afraid of what will happen to you, even if you know it’s hard to avoid and have done so much to keep yourself from falling down. Moreover, you’re not really “free”. Like you figured before, you’re just going back to the other hell you were in before this. Even though Lucius used you, he’s just one man. It’s been quite some time since you’ve had to face constant sexual encounters. It’ll be difficult to adjust back to such a routine, especially knowing that every visit could be the one where you end up pregnant. It could take one visit, or it could take a hundred. The frustrating point is that it will happen.

Does it much matter anyway? You don’t keep the child, nor do you even think it develops much before it’s removed from you. The impression you got from hearing about Jade and Sienna was that pregnancies were nipped in the bud rather quickly upon their being discovered.

Does The Overseer extract them, or does Nathaniel since it’s his expertise? Perhaps Monica, now? You aren’t sure. The callous doctor had remarked that he’d see you again one way or another, so you figured he’s at least present for whatever it is that’s done to pregnant girls.

Your thighs squeeze shut at the idea of being touched in such a horrifying way. You’re picturing needles and hooks and all manner of horrible sterile tools entering your body without your say-so. It’s unnerving to imagine.

The loud sound of both metal doors separating suddenly shakes the thought away, surprising you and causing you to gasp loudly. Your head, which had bowed slightly in your bout of thinking, now picks right up as you stare onward down another hall with doors on either side of it.

Lucius outstretches his hand, beckoning you to come forward. “Shall we?”

Despite the hesitation, you force yourself forward obediently. Lucius doesn’t have you trail behind him this time. Instead, he waits until you’re a few steps before him, then places his hand firmly around the back of your neck and guides you forward. The sudden placement of his cold flesh upon you only sends a chill down your spine, but you press on nonetheless.

The doors in this hall are all numbered, but have no label other than one that comes at a crossroads of hallways, the two upon your left and right both blocked off by metal doors. The nameplate labels on each have arrows pointing in different directions, reading things like BASEMENT, A SECTOR, SURGICAL, and POST-CRITICAL. Oddly, the arrow by BASEMENT is pointing up, not down. You wonder how far underground you really are, then. You can’t imagine this facility is immensely large or complex enough to be that far if there’s only so many doctors and two people heading the operation here. Especially if this is an old facility to begin with that was merely repurposed. But you’d imagine that if this facility were meant to be so secret even back in its original day, then evidently measures would have been taken to conceal it well. Beneath a basement, though…how strange.

You don’t much have time to linger on mapping this place in your head based on what you briefly read on each marker. Eventually, you’re led to another door at what you figure is the end of this hall. Lucius, still holding onto your neck, pushes you aside a bit and enters his code into the next keypad. You’re slightly turned to the left to face the wall, so you don’t much see it. All you really hear is a few light tapping noises.

The doors separate, revealing a short stretch of hall before it angles to the right. Upon seeing the turn, you suddenly recall Lav once mentioning the end of your own hall curving one way. You still remain perplexed as to why she knows this, but your nerves remain fixated now on what’s about to transpire.

Slowly walking down this hall and approaching the sharp edges of the angled curve only leaves your heart in a frenzy as it beats with a wild pace. There’s no reason to be so nervous, yet you can’t much help it.

What if you turn the corner and get shot down? What if this is just another cruel test? Your mind buzzes relentlessly with doubt. You can’t take it, but you know you can’t say anything. All you can do is try to hold on.

The moment you finally reach the end of the curve and turn into the next hall, you stop and jump. The sight of a tall figure casually leaning his right side against the wall promptly comes into view. It’s facing away from you, but you can’t mistake the familiar blue color of this person’s shirt, the dark of his hair and the broad width of his shoulders.

Your eyes widen seeing him even just like this, your hands tremoring just slightly despite your balled- up fists.

“What is it this time, Doctor Marcellus?” He speaks without turning, without even having to guess who it might be. The familiar sound of his suave voice only shakes you further. It’s unreal. You haven’t heart it since…

Lucius chuckles amusedly. “Quite the attitude. Shall I assume you don’t want this gift I’ve brought you?”

You watch nervously as Yosuke’s head just slightly turns as his attention is piqued. You see the nape of his neck and just a hint of the side of his jaw as he moves.

“Gift?”

Yosuke then finally pushes himself off the wall and bothers to turn. The moment he catches sight of you, he freezes. As do you.

Your doctor’s olive eyes weigh with exhaustion, the lower lids fairly dark compared to the rest of his flesh. It’s something you can quite clearly see even from behind his familiar thick, square frames. However, his eyes remain unexpressive beyond a slight widening. You can see through his subtle visage, even after all this time. He’s surprised to see you, as you are very much surprised to see him. He merely hides it far better than you do.

Yosuke says nothing, simply looking upon you a moment before shifting his gaze back to Lucius. The subtle surprise in his eyes then turns to a deep scorn. You’re sure even Lucius can see that, because he gives another quiet chuckle through his nose and throat.

“My, no heartfelt reunion?” He teases, relishing in Yosuke’s embittered silence. “No tears? No words? I’m astonished. I expected something from her, at least.”

Suddenly, you feel his cold hand shove you forward, causing you to stumble onward and toward your doctor. Before you can fall, he catches you. Your bound arms fold upward, and your hands reach to clutch his shirt so that you can balance yourself. Without question, your doctor places his hands upon your shoulders and helps hold you steady.

“Take your princess back, Chisaka.” Lucius says with a far more displeased tone. “We’re quite done with her.”

Your heart remains pounding, and your hands refuse to stop trembling even as you tightly grip the cloth of your doctor’s shirt. This feeling of his touch and his warmth as you’re kept against his torso…it’s familiar, but ladened with a burdening discomfort. You remember everything associated with this sensation. Every single awful thing.

You don’t dare look up. Instead, you turn your head to glimpse behind you at Lucius. His eyes flicker to you the second you do, but they don’t linger. Even so, the brief moment both of your gazes meet only angers and frightens you all at once. You want him to leave already. You don’t want to see him ever again after all the awful things he put you through. You’ll take Yosuke over him, even knowing that your doctor’s just as bad in his own way.

“The boss sends his bitter regards, and a message,” Lucius tells Yosuke casually, his lips still decorated with a coy smile all the while. “Don’t act out of line again, or he’ll do much worse to you. And her.”

Yosuke’s grip on your shoulders then tightens as he hears this, and his fingers dig into the cloth of your gown. However, he does not give anything more than a brief and polite “of course”. You can clearly feel the vibrations of his voice as the trail along his chest.

“Is that all?” Yosuke then bluntly questions, his gaze affixed forward.

“Mm, one more thing, actually,” Lucius retorts, still with his rather amused tone. “He’s placed a condition.”

What? You never heard mention of this. Was it decided outside The Overseer’s room, or perhaps when you were unconscious in the chair a while ago—or rather, however long it was?

“No more restrictions on visitations,” Lucius says promptly. “If anyone wants her, they may have her any way they like, so long as she doesn’t get severely injured or die needlessly like others have before her. I suppose there’s only been a couple you’ve limited, though the condition still holds nonetheless. But don’t worry—you may well earn the privilege of sheltering her back in time. Simply keep working as you have been. Tend to your usual affairs upstairs. Don’t lose focus.”

He looks upon you next. “That goes for you too, girl.”

Your eyes widen slightly upon hearing this condition. The Overseer said he’d considered letting Yosuke have you as he likes as an option of controlling him should harsher punishments prove ineffective. If this limitation is being placed that will very well incite horrible things in your doctor in his anger at what others may to do you, then you suspect the boss intends only to use rewarding Yosuke as a last resort. Not only that, but The Overseer definitely has decided to make things harder. You’re certain it isn’t just to punish Yosuke, but to push you further into your role as a pawn. This is merely another unusual trial of his, isn’t it? He’s toying with you without even showing his face. Does he want you to slip up? Or is he edging you toward a specific behavior?

You’re sure you can handle this, but the thought of seeing Mom or Milos again only stirs unrest in your heart. It’s been far too long, and your last memories of encounters and visits with them are hardly positive. At the very least, you may still be safe from the terrible Lilah knowing how little interest she has in you for being such a, in her words, “runt”.

In any case, even if things don’t work out and The Overseer is unable to control Yosuke as he likes, the way he isn’t wholly able to control someone like Mom, you suspect he’d hurt or even kill you far before bothering to waste another dose of Mnemosyne on you. For you to truly become a puppet of his by being turned into a worker, or for you to simply die by his hand would likely satisfy the man. You’ve apparently caused him so much grief as it is.

The Overseer harbors no emotional attachment to his subjects, you’re sure. But you can’t imagine how it’d be like ordering around people who once worked for you, or who once were your patients. It’s a frightening thought. But perhaps that’s the sort of thing a doctor must deal with. You’ve been shown through both The Overseer and Lucius that progression in their field is propagated by the throwing away of morality. You still don’t believe this true, but you couldn’t possibly make a good case against people who have decided to set themselves in such horrible ways.

The clutch you have on your doctor’s shirt tightens significantly in your unease, but Yosuke makes no forward attempts to comfort you. He simply stands there, watching his superior’s lackey with an unshaken glare.

“Do you understand?” Lucius urges him. Yosuke pauses a moment before eventually giving a quiet,

“Yes.”

Lucius gives a pleased nod. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it then. I’m certain you two have quite a bit of catching up to do, as I have to do with my own work. Take a little time to transition back into things if you so prefer, Chisaka. A few days perhaps. But don’t go hiding her away. She’s been confined long enough. He wants her to stretch her legs again and get used to things as they were prior. You understand how it is.”

“Yes.”

What the hell is he talking about? Being here is confinement no matter where in the facility you are. You should be glad to be away from both horrible men, and on the surface, you are. But you’re fairly downtrodden knowing what lies ahead of you. You may be fed well and loved by some doctors, but that will still come at the expense of enduring abuse from others. That won’t ever go away.

Although it all hardly compares to what you endured under the watchful eye of The Overseer and his gunman, it’s still a horrible situation. Even so, you have to remain diligent. You will survive as long as it takes. You refuse to die until you have no choice but to. You already practically gave up once because you thought you were going to die. You don’t want to give up again if you know you can live.

Your head turns away from Lucius the moment his eyes wander back to yours. You won’t give him the satisfaction of watching your uneasy face. He merely gives an amused chuckle at your clinging to Yosuke now. You can already hear him teasing you in your head. Luckily, Lucius does leave after this, going back the way he came. In moments, the doors behind you on the other end of the curve in the hall shut, and you’re left alone with Yosuke.

His grip on you has not ebbed. His fingers remain tightly dug into your shirt and the flesh underneath its thin fabric. You refuse to look up for a while, until it becomes uncomfortable for you to just stand here in silence. You can’t help but wondering if your lack of reaction to your doctor is wrong. He doesn’t deserve a tearful reunion or a happy moment with you given the kind of things he’s done, but it still doesn’t seem right to just stand here.

After a long quiet, you look up at your doctor and see him still staring ahead with embittered eyes. You can tell he’s thinking.

“Yosuke?” You call to him. Your hushed, concerned voice seems to shake his frustrated trance. Your doctor blinks his olive eyes a moment, then shifts them down to your face. Though his expression softens, he does not smile, nor does he say a thing to you. However, his grasp on your shoulders finally loosens.

“W-we should go back,” you quietly remind him. It’s odd to speak so openly to him now after all this time you spent being silenced and forced into a submissive state by the men who’ve watched you. If anything, you’re particularly nervous about how Yosuke’s going to react when you’re alone with him. You’re fairly certain his quiet is merely a stifling of his own feelings given that he’s likely being observed. He very much would know that fact and would definitely know better than to let his reaction be so openly seen. He’s never been particularly stupid about some things, from what you can remember.

That word leaves you to again wonder whether you’re remembering everything correctly and fully. The Overseer very well could have taken something from you, and you’d never know. But for now, you can only go along with things and find out on your own. You think everything’s the same and intact. You want to believe it is. Your “warden” probably anticipates that you’ll spend the rest of your days mulling it over fruitlessly.

Yosuke continues to watch you with his olive gaze, as if contemplating what next to do. Slowly, he brings a hand from your right shoulder and gently cups your cheek, assessing you all the while. He remains quiet even now, but eventually does drop both his hands and move to lift you up.

You’re cradled in your doctor’s arms in a way that’s unfortunately familiar to you. Despite always having insisted that he let you walk, you allow Yosuke to ferry you this way. You’ll make use of your legs again soon, though. This feeling of freedom in your body won’t be taken for granted.

You say nothing and let Yosuke take you away, watching the floor as he moves quietly and slowly down the hall with his gaze affixed forward. Only once do you glance up, realizing that you finally have the chance to see what number lies at the end of the hall you’ve only ever seen a part of. When you do, you’re shocked to see the number twenty upon the last door you pass before it goes down to nineteen.

Twenty? So this group used to be twice as big…? Did Cyrus’ group ever get that big and he just didn’t remember? No, that couldn’t be. There’s not been a single trace of any memory of any others that he’s given off. You never really sensed it, anyway. Maybe once before him, the groups were twice as large. But why shrink them?

Before you can fully think on it, you hear a faint voice. Only then do you realize that someone Is further down the hall. In your quiet focus, you hadn’t bothered to look that way knowing well what it looked like already.

You soon turn your head, and immediately you are taken aback by a familiar set of colors: Black, white, red, and…

“Violet…!” You quietly gasp upon noticing the familiar brown skin of a figure dressed in such a color.

You’d been so focused on your doctor down the hall that you hadn’t seen past him to know your friend was here. She isn’t close enough to hear you yet, but she’s standing by the shower entrance by the right wall, opposite of the exam rooms. She’s facing her doctor, you find, though his back is to you. From what you can hear of his vocal tone, the wily man is scolding his Number, and Violet isn’t exactly looking your way. Her eyes are affixed elsewhere, no doubt in annoyance at her being reprimanded.

Your heart jumps joyfully upon seeing her despite your eyes also catching sight of Micah as well. Though, as you draw closer, you notice your companion looks quite different. As she holds her glasses In her hands, you notice her signature wavy locks are now gone. Her freshly wet hair has been cut quite short, now tapering and curling at the ends, as if eager to regain a longer, wavier shape. It doesn’t look bad on her, but you’re so taken aback by the change that you hardly know what to think. As it is, you’re still trying to recover from seeing your own doctor again.

Despite this, you attempt to call out to her again now that you’re just that much closer. You wish Yosuke would hurry. But when you try to say her name upon growing closer in an attempt to get her attention yourself, you are only able to call out “Vi-“ before your doctor squeezes your body by the shoulders and knees, and hugs it closer, as if gesturing you to be quiet. You look up at him with pleading eyes, but he does not bother to acknowledge you.

Even though you were unable to call to her, Violet luckily soon notices you in turn. Her doctor grabs her jaw and bitterly growls,

“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

The moment her eyes are forced to move up and meet her doctor’s, they stop halfway when they catch sight of you. As you had, you hear her audibly gasp as well. Her glasses slip from her fingers and clatter onto the floor. Micah, evidently taken aback by the sudden reaction, drops his hand.

“What the hell are you so shaken by?”

He then turns his head and looks behind him, but immediately locks his black eyes onto you. The familiar cocked and pierced brow, the growling tone of his voice, the sleek and neat black and white getup on his body…you’re not precisely pleased to make its acquaintance again after all this time.

Micah looks on at you with a subtle surprise on his face, one brow cocked and lips slightly parted. This only lasts a moment as Yosuke grows closer. You notice the numbers above the rooms slowly counting down to your own with each one Yosuke passes.

“God damn,” Micah mutters, his surprised expression neutralizing and returning to the sly demeanor you remember disliking so much. “You’re still alive?”

“Ten?!” Violet desperately calls out, as if in utter disbelief. As you draw closer, you can more clearly see how different she looks with her shorter hair. Her slightly babyish cheeks are more prominent, and the nape of her neck much more open. You can clearly see now that she has remnants of scars peeking through the top of her gown around her chest. Your heart drops slightly seeing them. They’re evidently fairly fresh with how red they look from where you are.

Violet kneels and bends over to pick her glasses up, but keeps her eyes fixated on you. The young woman affixes the round frames to her face, sliding them up on the bridge of her nose and watching you in disbelief. Her eyes flicker between you and your doctor a few times. “Are you really-“

She winces and sucks in a pained breath through her teeth then as Micah grips and twists her arm by her wrist.

“I’m not done with you, little girl,” he chides her harshly. “So shut your goddamn mouth.”

Your lips part to speak, but Yosuke again nudges your body tightly toward him, prompting you to stay quiet. You aren’t sure why he doesn’t want you speaking, nor why you’re even bothering to indulge this desire when you can afford to be a little more forward with him. Perhaps it’s become a slight habit. You’ll soon break it, you hope. After all, The Overseer only cares that you obey him and Lucius closely.

Yosuke ignores both Micah and Violet even now that he’s close to them and to your room. When he reaches the familiar door, he turns and reaches a few fingers to put his code in, angling himself with your back to the thing to make sure you can’t see it form where you are. Though you’re between him and the door now, you peek over your shoulder at the two behind Yosuke.

“You know, most people say ‘hi’ when they see someone they’re familiar with,” Micah casually warns your doctor. “What’s the matter? Been shut away so long that It’s like you forgot how to talk.”

“Be quiet,” Yosuke calls out sternly, his harsh tone leaving a chill down your spine. It hardly phases Micah. He merely persists with amusement in his voice.

“Got your princess back and everything. I’m sure you must be over the moon,” he remarks. “Gonna fuck her to yourself for a few days, then? Or are you gonna share? I could use a break, you know.”

You’re sure he means from whatever work he’s been doing as of late, now that another person has been brought to the facility. Certainly the man’s also had to deal with the workers too, if to a less involved degree.

The door to your room then opens, a familiar shade of rose pink upon the walls greeting you out of the corner of your eye for the first time in what’s felt like ages. You’re taken utterly aback by the sight when your attention turns to it. Even now, you still question whether all this is really happening.

“I’m not in the mood, Micah,” Yosuke mutters before pressing onward. Before you’re shut away, you hear Micah call out one last thing. When you again look over your doctor’s shoulder, you see Micah still holding fast to an uncomfortable Violet’s arm as she angrily tries to tug away. The red-haired doctor raises his pierced brow.

“I don’t know where the fuck you’ve been, honey, but you should have stayed dead.”

You’re unfortunately then cut off from Violet and Micah as the door shuts behind your doctor, your eyes meeting with your companion’s before you’re left with nothing but the sight of a metal pane. Despite the uncomfortable words from Violet’s crude doctor, you’re absolutely relieved to know that the girl still okay after all this time. And it’s likely she’ll tell the others you’re still alive. At least it makes the business of showing up again and explaining your living state a little less stressful.

Unfortunately, now you have to deal with Yosuke.

Being in this room again after god knows how long continues to be jarring. You feel like a mere guest in a place that's supposed to be yours. Even now, you suspect that you might just wake up from some dream and find yourself still confined to The Overseer’s room.

You’re walked over to your bed, and your eyes shift over to your desk on the right as Yosuke nears it. The immediate though that comes to mind is of your journal. But when you scan the surface of the desk, it’s not there. Yosuke must have read what you wrote, then. There’s no way he didn’t. But why is your journal gone? Perhaps it’s in the drawer, unless Yosuke took it. Or, unless he decided to completely get rid of it in want of ignoring your words. He’s been dismissive of you before.

This leaves you to wonder what it is he’ll do. In part, you fear your doctor will immediately jump into using you again in a desperate attempt to quell his exhausted state. You can remember him coming to you like this once before after just a few days apart from you. But this confinement of yours has lasted far longer than a few days.

However, Yosuke seems far more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him before. He’s not exactly excited to see you the way you imagined he might have been. He just seems slow and out of it. Moreover, he’s probably rather distracted at his anger over his boss’ conditions and the fact that you were hidden away for so long.

You won’t feel bad for Yosuke. No way. He brought this on himself. It’s not your fault he got so attached. He didn’t have to do what he did, nor anything he’s done prior to it. But…

As you look up at his face again, he seems so pitiful. He’s not his old self, and you don’t know if he will be again anytime soon. Perhaps, perhaps not. But evidently it’s going to take some adjusting between the both of you before anything goes back to normal.

Yosuke turns and gently lowers your body upon the bed, seating you on its edge carefully. The hem of your white gown falls over your knees, a sight that’s so odd after spending a long time naked. It was still something you were aware of at the time with how often you’d look down at yourself, but you’d admittedly gotten accustomed to the embarrassment of being nude with time. You only really felt bad about it when Lucius started lording over your body to torture you, or ashamed when The Overseer set his eyes sternly upon it.

You sit tiredly upon the bed, your cuffed wrists set forward and your hands balled up in your lap. Your gaze remains affixed to the floor, though your doctor makes no moves toward you. He stands tall, hovering before your body a moment, but soon moves to sit beside you instead. His blue-shirted frame practically crumples as he plops onto the bed and leans on his knees. He’s hunched over slightly, so you’re not exactly able to see his face since you’re still sitting quite straight yourself.

Yosuke’s blackly slacked legs are spread a bit as he leans each elbow on his knees. He tiredly hangs his head, and so parts of his hair fall alongside his cheeks and the side of his thick glasses. Even when his frames slightly fall upon the angling of his head, Yosuke doesn’t bother to push them up.

The both of you sit in silence a while. It’s clear that neither of you can much process being here again, and being together.

Perhaps you expected a more responsive reunion—him giving eerily sweet words, or maybe touching your body in all manner of ways in a desperate attempt to lord over it once more. You thought maybe your doctor would react more behind closed doors, but he seems completely defeated. It’s jarring to view Yosuke this way after so long of knowing him as coy and playful toward you due to his obsessive fascination.

“You remember, don’t you?” He finally mutters. You look over at him, but his face remains hidden from you. “Everything from before?”

“Yes,” you say openly while you fiddle with and stretch at the fabric over your thighs as if fascinated by it. In truth, you just need something physical to distract from the tension. “I remember you and my friends. I remember this place and everything that happened within it. I don’t think he took my memory.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Your lips part, but you hesitate to answer. Regardless of whether he means The Overseer or Lucius, it should be obvious. But perhaps Yosuke just wants to hear it from you.

“…Yes,” you finally give a quiet response.

“Did he touch you?”

Now you know with certainty he means Lucius. Yosuke knows both men to some extent. It’d be easy for him to guess The Overseer wasn’t at all interested in such things.

Your fingers tighten around the hem of your gown as you struggle to get the words out. “I don’t think you want the answer to that. Not like you could do anything about it anyway.”

“I suppose not,” Yosuke mutters in admittance.

“Are you angry?” Perhaps this is a stupid question, but you ask it anyway upon seeing your doctor’s hands tense up.

“At whom?” you’re asked. “You? Marcellus? Or perhaps my superior?”

“Is there reason for you to be mad at your boss when you acted out of line to begin with? You even said you could handle his punishments. You said you assessed the risk and decided to take it.”

“Yes, I did,” Yosuke doesn’t bother to fight this. “I was expecting him to come after me. I wasn’t expecting him to take you.”

You look away. “I wasn’t expecting it any more than you were. I remember waking up to Lucius and two workers the night you spoke with me. After that, I was whisked away and chained up.”

“Chained?”

“Your boss had me brought to his room, and chained me to his bed. I stayed there this whole time. In the dark, without clothes. They only took care of my bare minimum needs. Lucius watched me more often than your superior did, but I had to interact with both of them.”

Yosuke’s hands ball into fists, not unlike yours.

“I see,” is all he quietly comments. “Yes ,Ten. I am quite mad.”

“Well, I’m here now,” you remark, hoping such a reminder will help quell his quiet fury. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

Yosuke’s tense state remains intact even with your words. However, he does slightly turn his head toward you, just enough for you to make out the side of his cheek and a bit of his nose.

“It’s a little difficult for me to accept it,” he admits. “Even though I suspected you weren’t dead at some point, I still find it hard to process seeing you again.”

“I guess we have that in common,” you mutter. “Your boss put me under heavy anesthesia recently before opting to let me go. I’m still not fully convinced this isn’t a dream.”

Yosuke then reaches a hand out to your right one, cupping the back of it. His touch is warm and gentle. Not since your brush with Gale have you really felt that.

“I’m very much real, Ten,” he murmurs. “I believe you are as well.”

You remain focused “What did you mean you suspected I wasn’t dead?”

“I kept coming back here,” is your doctor’s simple reply. “Were your room meant to be repurposed for a new Number, I’d have lost access to it long ago. But I never did.”

This is an odd revelation. “Wouldn’t he have seen you entering the room on camera?”

“Yes,” Yosuke does not refute this, nor does he question why you might know now that there are cameras in the hall. “I remained hopeful that you were alive because I could come in here, but as I thought upon it, I also was forced to consider the possibility that my superior was merely stringing me along for the sake of plucking at my nerves. I figure he wanted me to believe you were dead. And, after a time, I did. Many of us did.”

Your heart sinks. “…And the Numbers too?”

“I don’t know,” Yosuke responds. “I haven’t precisely been present down here beyond checking for you. I haven’t much interacted with anyone, so I don’t really know what’s been happening in my absence. Do you miss them? You hardly begged me to see them, but I could hear that eagerness in your voice when you caught sight of Seven.”

“I do.” You won’t make any attempts to hide your feelings about the others. They’re more important to you right now, but evidently Yosuke will be your only challenge until he sees fit to let you go back.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you again remain blunt. “I know what being here again means. I don’t miss that. But you were on my mind far more than I wanted you to be.”

Finally, Yosuke gives a bit of a weak laugh. Is he amused by your blunt attitude?

“Still intent on fighting, I see,” he mumbles. “Even after everything you’ve been put through. I’m admittedly quite surprised you still have the strength. I’d say you’ve changed, but I think we’re both quite morose at the moment. I can’t much tell right now. Forgive me for being so out of sorts.”

“We’re ‘out of sorts’ for different reasons,” you insist, still clutching the hem of your gown. As your anger suddenly rises, you can’t help but start to let out one of your frustrations on the man, despite knowing you’re supposed to be playing a role for him. You worry your outburst may cause Yosuke to bring up the letter, but you can’t help yourself right now.

“I thought you were stronger than that,” you chide the man. “But you seem to have crumbled without me. Meanwhile I was the one put through hell. Real hell, and I’m the one still standing. Those men are horrifying. I wasn’t ready for any of this!”

You shake your head when your doctor doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you just replace me if you felt so bad anyway? If all you wanted was a puppet to satisfy your needs, you have plenty to choose from.”

“You’re irreplaceable,” is the blunt response you’re given. Despite the consistent barrage of bitter words you finally unleash upon your doctor after so long of holding them in, the man does not seem offended. His tone is gentle, if a bit weary.

Finally, Yosuke turns his head fully and looks over at you, his tired olive gaze fixated on your face.

“Not only are we too deep into this for me to just give you up, but you do mean a lot to me, Ten,” he tells you. “Don’t believe me if that’s what you wish. But not having you here was difficult. Not merely because of my lack of something to fulfill my desires, mind you.”

His fingers curl around the backside of your hand. “I missed you.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to believe you,” you bitterly retort. “You could just be faking this for all I know. But you are genuinely so pitiful right now I can’t help but think there’s at least some truth to what you’re saying, even if I don’t want to trust it. You look miserable. That’s not something even you can fake.”

Yosuke gives another soft, weary laugh. “Frankly, we both look miserable.”

He then glances down at your body before frowning. His tone changes back to one of concern.

“You look thin, dear,” he remarks, almost in a sullen manner. Hearing one of his many pet names for you slip past his lips is disorienting after the respite from it you’ve had. “You seem physically weak. Have you seen yourself?”

“I’ve mostly avoided looking in mirrors,” you answer him. “Every time I was bathed or went to the restroom and did bother to look at my reflection, I couldn’t really see myself as a person. I never thought I was real.”

You shift your eyes uncomfortably away as the back of Yosuke’s hand comes up to your cheek and gently glides along it. Again, the sensation is familiar. Gentle. Warm. You almost want to melt in it after so long of cold touches and harsh abuse. But you don’t give in. You know better.

“I’m sorry, Yosuke apologizes. He isn’t using a babyish tone, nor a coy one. This sounds genuine, much to your surprise. “It must have been hard. I can’t much fathom the awful things you endured under my superior’s watchful eye. But you are right. What matters is that you’re here now. And I fully intend to take care of you as I once did. It is my only other role in this place, after all.”

“I suppose we both need each other then,” you finally admit. “I don’t like it, but there are things I have to rely on you for. Don’t let me finally admitting it get to your head.”

“Do you think I serve to stroke my own ego?”

“I can’t fathom why you do what you do. Humans are unpredictable sometimes.”

Yosuke trails his fingers along your right arm as his hand drops from your cheek. His pads soon graze the sleek cuff along your wrists, and you watch as his olive eyes follow in turn.

“I’m human now?” He refers to your earlier conversations, not bothering to comment on the cuff but certainly feeling it with his fingers.

“I’ve come to learn that yes, you are,” you say bluntly, not bothering to divulge that it’s Gale who led you to such a conclusion. “But that doesn’t mean you’re a good human.”

“I guess I left ‘goodness’ behind a long time ago. As did many of us.”

“Don’t tell me you regret it now.”

“Hm…”

Yosuke doesn’t much respond after his thoughtful hum, completely withdrawing his hand instead and again leaning on his knees. Did your statement strike a nerve with him? You refuse to believe he actually feels remorse for his course of actions in life, for the decisions he’s made. Certainly, he isn’t as uncaring as someone like The Overseer, but…

The both of you again grow silent, and you wind up mindlessly observing the floor as you try to think of what to really say. It’s so odd to be back here. It’s confusing; strange. You’re speaking like you would usually with your doctor, right? Yet somehow, long after you’ve spoken your words, you question whether you even did. At this point, can you really chalk it up to the lingering effects of anesthesia? Likely not.

Wanting to break the silence and move away from such a bitter topic, you ask something else.

“…What did you do while I was gone?”

“Work,” answers your doctor without question. “I suppose I became what I was before this place. I hardly came down here except to speak with your mother or check for you. Work was all I had other than her, though in part I’d hoped mimicking my initial diligence would appease my superior enough for him to stop shutting me out and punishing me. In any case, I hardly care for your mother these days, but I found myself having nobody else to really speak with but her. So it goes.”

Speak, or fuck?

Yosuke then lowers his brows. “I see you know Doctor Marcellus’ name—Lucius. He pecked at me now and again. I suppose he relished in watching me persist miserably in my day-to-day activities.”

“He tormented us both, then,” you remark with a frown. “He was the one watching over me most often, and he rarely left. I guess he made time to bother you too. Is that why you reacted the way you did when he came out of the hall?”

Yosuke slightly nods. “He’s a bit of a terror at times, if in subtle ways and within the limitations set by our boss. I can hardly do a thing about it. One simply doesn’t talk back to the right-hand man of their superior without consequence. I’m sure you know that lesson well by now.”

As much as it pains you, your mind trails back to Lucius’ use of you.

“No wonder Yosuke wanted you,” he’d once said.

“Do you owe him the way you owe Mom?” You inquire responsively. You only question whether you should have brought it up after you say it, but figure you can’t take it back anyway.

Although it’s possible the comment Lucius made was simply him remarking upon Yosuke’s decision to choose you as his Number after you came here, you can’t help but suspect that maybe Yosuke asked for you specifically. But that would only mean you’d met the man once before, or that he found and researched you on his own. You have no familiarity to him in your heart that you can sense. You’re not sure what to think.

Yosuke frowns slightly.

“We all owe him and our superior a great deal,” he deflects your question with a general statement, much to your annoyance. You figure it’s because Lucius and The Overseer are both responsible for researching potential patients to pluck from the real world for this operation. You won’t bring it up, however.

“But that hardly means I’m not permitted to dislike him at the same time,” Yosuke goes on. “Like your mother, Lucius is a bit hard to manage. What’s worse is that he’s partly in charge. Your mother is not. I can get away with chiding her on my own much more easily. To an extent, of course. My superior apparently didn’t like me acting on my own accord the one time I did.”

“To protect me? Is that it?”

Yosuke gives an exhale of breath through his nose and promptly pushes off of his knees to stand.

“Yes,” he answers calmly, turning to face you once he’s on his feet. He takes hold of your cuffed wrists and proceeds to glide a thumb along its face, searching for the crease indicating the location of its release mechanism. When he finds it, he presses a thumb hard against it, and the cuff pops right open.

“I did it to protect you. I did a lot to.”

Finally free, you rub your right wrist with your left thumb, your eyes affixed to the open flesh.

“But you also did it to take advantage of me too. You’ve always done things for that reason.”

“I suppose it’d be pointless to weasel my way out of that assumption,” Yosuke mutters, turning and placing the open cuff on your desk. “I enjoy my guilty pleasures as any of us here do. But I did fully intend to protect you while still acting as your guardian, laying down rules and enforcing them where I needed to.”

Your doctor then hunches himself over the desk, spreading his palms on either side of it and heaving a heavy sigh.

“I can’t protect you much now, so it would seem,” he remarks with genuine upset in his voice. The subtleness to his demeanor that you remember him carrying has apparently thinned. “The hard responsibility of having to hurt you should fall on my shoulders, but it seems you might continue to get hurt by people who aren’t just me. People who enjoy hurting you.”

You mindlessly touch your stomach while your doctor isn’t looking your way. He has no idea just how much you’re burdened with. As you’ve always said, pain can be dealt with. Pregnancy at this point frightens you more with the consequences it brings at this facility. Yosuke simply doesn’t know, and it’s better he doesn’t for as long as you can help it. For your sake.

“I’ll deal with it,” you say firmly, looking over at your doctor’s backside and promptly leaving your hands back in your lap. Yosuke’s shoulders are raised, and his head has hung. When he hears your statement, he slightly turns his ear to you, but does not move or speak otherwise.

“I have to depend on and put up with you,” you persist upon Yosuke’s silence. “But that doesn’t mean I’m completely helpless. I’ll handle the pain when it comes. I’ll be afraid while enduring it, but I will recover. All I need you to do is tend to my wounds.”

“Physical, or emotional, dear?” Despite his sullen demeanor, Yosuke manages to still find the time to tease you.

“You can do nothing for my emotional state. I have to repair and strengthen it on my own.”

You lower your eyes and glower. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. Your boss and Lucius both tormented me in horrible ways. I almost completely broke.”

“And why didn’t you?”

You pause a moment even though your lips part, hesitating to say it aloud. Telling Yosuke that you only survived because of Lav and Cyrus, and because of your will to see them and the others again will likely only lead to him teasing you about relying so hard on them despite attempting to seem so independent, or perhaps chiding you for it in general. Not only that, but it may well cause him to bring up the letter. You don’t want to deal with this now.

No, you’re hesitating too much. The consequences, should your doctor choose to dish them out, will undoubtedly hurt. But you don’t’ want to hide it so much anymore. You’re going to end up being Yosuke’s little doll one way or another for the sake of keeping him at bay. You deserve to be a little more forward while you can, given what you have to do later.

“I kept my friends close,” you opt to say bluntly. “I tried to focus on seeing them again, on being with them. I know you’re going to bring it up one way or another, so I’ll confirm your suspicions before you can even verbalize them—I relied on the ones you once suspected me of and chided me for loving. I don’t care what you have to say about it, or whether you intend to punish me. They’re what kept me from drowning.”

Yosuke’s head again turns forward as he thinks on this statement a moment. Your heart pounds upon the uncertainty of how he’ll react. You didn’t explicitly say you love them, but the sentiment is very much between the lines of your words.

Your fingers again tense and clutch at the hem of your gown as you await your doctor’s judgement. Strangely, he does not raise his voice or sound embittered when next he speaks. Instead, he remains calm and simply remarks,

“Then I owe them my gratitude purely in that regard.”

Your eyes widen. “What? You’re not going to-”

“Had things not gone the way they did, perhaps I would have punished you thoroughly,” Yosuke interrupts you. “But I simply don’t have the strength right now. Make no mistake that you belong to me, Ten. But all things considered, I am admittedly grateful that those two helped you survive your confinement. They protected you when I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing you give up entirely. Laying there unexpressively. Broken.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to give into you? To stop fighting?”

“Perhaps once,” Yosuke mutters. His fists ball on the desk. “And in part, I would still be satisfied seeing you give into me. But not so pathetically. I don’t want you to be so down that you’re completely unreceptive to anything anymore. Losing you like this has put much into perspective for me.”

He chuckles wearily. “Being without you wasn’t just a punishment. It was torture. Certainly not comparable to your own, but a different kind of torture you don’t understand.”

You grimace and look away, but say nothing about how wrong he is. Being without people like Lav and Cyrus was indeed a torture like he’s endured.

“How hopeless,” you chide him further. “Men like you really can’t do anything without a woman by your side.”

“And I want you to be that woman, Ten. I want you to stay here with me, for as long as you can, ‘til death do us part. I won’t let you go again.”

Your body freezes upon hearing this. The Overseer’s punishment has somehow both worked and proven ineffective all at once. Yosuke’s…worse. Even in his morose state, there’s an undertow of eerie obsession that still lingers in his quiet words. He’s proving even now to still be a danger to you, and you have to quell his fascinations all on your own. The sacrifices you’ll have to make to keep the man at bay…you’re going to hate it, but it’ll have to be done. At the very least, it’s better than being threatened regularly.

The familiar phrase “’till death do us part” only lingers frightfully in your mind. You’re certain Yosuke said this on purpose. He must know something about you if he chose you to be his Number, so his decision to use the phrase can’t possibly be a mere coincidence. Those words belong to a series of vows, a fact you know well without question. This only rattles you.

And not only are you faced with Yosuke’s eager want of you and the blocked-off memories associated with the vows you know, but when you look down and are reminded that you’re wearing white, your heart almost can’t take it. A flurry of horrible memories and emotions surrounding your first dream with Yosuke and all the things you’d endured at this facility by his hand since then hits you all at once.

What’s worse is that you’re not even close to done here either. Are you?

You bring a hand shakily to your mouth to stifle your discomforted, uneven breaths, and your eyes squeeze shut as you try to endure what you’re feeling and force yourself to deal with it. This is too much emotional stimulation to take so soon after your ordeal with The Overseer and Lucius. This isn’t fair.

It’ll be alright, you tell yourself in an attempt to stay calm. Just focus on the now. Don’t overwhelm yourself overthinking what’s beyond your control.

This only slightly quells your nervousness, but it will have to do.

You gasp as Yosuke’s hand gently wraps around your wrist and pulls your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t noticed him turning and moving toward you. He probably heard your shaky breaths and turned around..

When your wide eyes look up at him, you want to cry. You don’t understand why, other than that you’re simply overwhelmed. But you refuse to give your doctor the satisfaction of seeing you blubber before him now. You stifle your tears as best you can, though only one lingers on the corner of your left eye, threatening to fall. Yosuke’s tired olive eyes look on at your frustrated face, his expression a tinge downtrodden. Despite this, he gives a weak smile and brings his thumb to the corner of your eye so that he can wipe the single drop sweetly away.

“My apologies, dearest,” he coos, though his voice remains fairly quiet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He’s not quite back to his old self, but he’s certainly getting there. He still has the capacity to be that way, you’re coming to realize. You’re promptly reminded of the frustration that comes with dealing with a man like Yosuke, but you stay adamant about refusing him. It shouldn’t be hard to play your role and still refuse him, should it? You’ve been playing pretend for so long, staying quiet for The Overseer and not asking too much of Lucius knowing the consequences that came with doing so. You can do this. You just need time to adjust to it again. You’re still in a fairly sensitive state after what you’ve been through, that’s all.

Yosuke’s palm lingers on your shoulder, and his attempt at smiling does not falter. At the very least, his smile is warm and genuine. It’s a decent change of pace from Lucius’ cold and coy smile. You’ll take Yosuke’s over his.

“Are you hungry?” He asks kindly. “Tired?”

“I’m groggy,” you answer your doctor honestly, not bothering to fight his touch. “But I’m not tired. I’ve slept for a long time. I think I’ll stay awake a little while.”

“If you like.”

You then touch your stomach again, thinking on whether or not you’re hungry. You’ve been so distracted by everything going on you haven’t much thought of food. Now that you can focus on it, you are quite famished.

“I wouldn’t mind something to eat,” you grumble admittedly. “As long as you don’t try to feed me again.”

Yosuke gives a weak chuckle.

“Oh dear, I wish I could. I can’t stay too terribly long.”

“Huh?” Your eyes again meet your doctor’s from behind his square frames. This genuinely comes as a surprise to you after your doctor adamantly insisted you stay close to him. Yosuke frowns in response to your reaction, a tinge of displeasure plastered on his face.

“I still have to adjust back to this old routine,” he explains. “I haven’t had a Number of my own this whole time, and I haven’t much been down here, like I said. I need to take care of and modify things upstairs before I can get back to it. I’m actually going to take advantage of the generous allowance I have to recuperate after a long time without you here.”

“What do you mean?” You gulp. Yosuke’s olive eyes shift away slightly, though his weary smile does return.

“I’ll keep you just a couple more days,” he tells you calmly. “I won’t be able to watch you the entire time, but I will come and bring you food , water, and something to do while you wait.”

Something to do? You hope he’s not insisting on using you so soon. Yosuke gives no indication of what he means, though. His eyes simply shift back in your direction as he observes you.

“I’ll be back to my old self in no time, dear,” he says gently. “We both will.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to stay confined longer! When can I-“

Yosuke stops you by putting a few fingers sweetly to your lips.

“A few more short days should be no trouble for you,” he says. “Especially now that you’re back in a slightly more relaxed setting and are being more properly cared for. Please let me do my job, Ten. I will make sure you’re alright. Comfortable.”

With you right silenced, your doctor drops his hand. “I’m happy you’re back, despite how I must look otherwise. But do take these next few days to adjust to this place again on your own. And above all else, try to move your body around a little. It’s actually quite worrying how much weight you’ve lost. I’ll likely have to do a thorough examination of you later and mark things down for your file.”

You bring a hand to your face and look down upon your body nervously at the reminder. Are you really that different? But you were being fed, and you were hardly mobile. Admittedly you didn’t eat as much as you could have, but—

“Dear, wait here,” Yosuke interrupts your thoughts. “I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll bring you something to read and something to draw on, alright?”

“…Okay,” you defeatedly agree, not intending to be difficult even at your embarrassment and annoyance at Yosuke babying you again. Granted, you shouldn’t expect much less after he’s been separated from you all this time. It must have taken an odd toll on his mind. Having you back now is only going to make him want to hover over you like he used to. You scoff a bit thinking how Gale must have had a field day observing their coworker, knowing that you were alive and well when Yosuke didn’t. You don’t doubt their curiosity extends to beyond just the prisoners.

In any case, having a little time to yourself would actually be nice now that you’re not in the dark or on some flat, dingy mattress. Your own feels like a cloud after all the time you spent on the other meager thing. Though, It’s so bright in this room by comparison that you’re honestly a bit taken aback by it. You’ve occasionally caught yourself squinting your eyes just a bit, even doing so now and opening them fully in response to the self-awareness of the act. Again, it all feels so unreal. You even pinch the skin atop your hand, but the slight pain reminds you that you’re really here.

Yosuke pauses a moment to look at you, but does eventually decide to lean down, steadying himself on your shoulder with his hand. He leans in to gently kiss your cheek, a warm gesture you’re left blushing a bit at. You’re grateful he didn’t try moving for your lips, but do almost wonder why he didn’t. Is he teasing you? Or is he just not ready? You can’t really tell, but suspect the former when he watches your reaction with a bit of amusement, even through his tired visage.

The old Yosuke would have probably pushed you down and started forcing his lips upon you. This version of your doctor…it’s so pitiful by comparison; a stripped version of the one you knew. Certainly just as unsettling, you find, even if he is being a bit gentler for the moment. But like he said, he will return to his former self soon. You wager it’ll be much easier for him to than he’s letting on—you’ve noticed his return of pet names and his rather insistent touch of you that's gone on despite the earlier hesitation. He’s going to be just as bad as before. You’ll just have to be ready for when he is.

The only one here who’s changed is you.

---

The moment you’re left alone, you breathe a heavy sigh of what you think is relief. You are, of course, rather content at being isolated now knowing that neither The Overseer nor Lucius will show up to talk badly to you or treat you harshly. Yosuke, although unnerving for many other reasons, is far more tolerable. You keep telling yourself this, but also remind yourself not to let that comparison make him seem like a good person.

You sit in silence, examining the surroundings of your assigned domicile. The familiar rose color is soft on your eyes, even if the overall brightness of the room is still taking a bit of time to adjust to fully. How odd to be here again. You brush your toes and the pads of your feet along the floor as you remain seated on the edge of your rather comfortable bed. The cold, hard sensation of the floor is somehow different now that you can actually clearly see your surroundings. Even if the material is the same as what’s used everywhere in this facility, the area that it’s in greatly changes how you perceive it. The cold isn’t as unwelcome as it has been, oddly.

As you turn your head to look at the comforter on your bed, you also reach a hand back and run it along the plush surface. It’s so inviting, but you really did mean what you said about not being tired. You’re not in the mood to sleep so soon. In fact, now that it’s starting to sink in that you’re really back here, you’re a little excited. Hardly in a positive way given that you will be here a few more days, but you are overall happy to be here rather than in The Overseer’s immediate presence.

After accustoming yourself again to the feeling of the bed’s surface, you finally opt to stand. Your eyes trail the pinkish walls of your room, from the door to your desk. In part, you want to check for your notebook before Yosuke comes back, but his comment about your appearance lingers in your mind.

Rather than walk forward, you turn and head to your bathroom. Upon entering it, you’re jarred by just how much smaller it is than what you had constantly been walking into this whole time. Admittedly, the conjoining of a bathroom and a shower was quite nice and convenient. By comparison, your own restroom looks like a small closet. It’s just barely enough to fit one or two people standing in, but there’s not much room to move about.

Your fingers trail along the shelves and cubbies where your allotted toiletries are, and this goes on until you reach the end corner and your hand falls next to the white sink to your right. Turning to face it now, you start to remember Yosuke brushing your hair the morning of the day you were taken away. He’d stood behind you, and you avoided his gaze in the mirror all the while.

You dislike that pleasant memories are returning just as much as bad ones. Now that you’ve come up a bit from both your miserable state that hindered your ability to think properly while confined, and your anesthesia, it’s becoming easier to recall things. Though, these things feel so distant now.

Looking over at the reflective surface of your mirror now only makes you uneasy. You’re also taken by surprise at the reminder that your body is clothed, something you’ve again forgotten. You half-expected to see your nude body standing before the sink.

It’s rather bright in here, so what bit of skin is visible popping out of your gown looks paler than usual, and a tinge sickly beneath the light. Though, it looks as if all your past injuries have since healed over completely. There’s no trace of bruising on your neck, and the cuts Micah left you are only thin lines on your skin that blend into the color of it. But beyond that positive point, you find your doctor was right that you do look out of sorts. You hardly paid attention while confined, and it wasn’t a change you really noticed. But now that you have time to fully examine your body, you really do start to see the awful changes you’ve undergone. You didn’t look like this last time you stood in front of this mirror.

Your face looks comparably more sullen than it did long ago, but other than the slightly drained color of your flesh, the slightly thinned-out weight of your body, and the dishevelment of your hair, you don’t look much drastically different. You nearly expected to look in the mirror and see something akin to the workers—lifeless, sunken in eyes, practically colorless complexion, a bare-bones body. Maybe you’re just reflecting a fear of yours. You can’t ever shake the sickly image of the dying worker you saw from your mind. Even if Lucius hadn’t shot him, he was probably bound to die rather quickly by what you remember of his face.

It’s stupid to think you’d look that much like them when their bodies change primarily because of drug abuse. The only drug you’ve really been on constantly is the anesthetic, and you hardly think it affects you when the others look fairly okay despite likely being drugged the same way regularly. Even Five, who has been said to occasionally get different drugs that hurt her, seems not to be too affected beyond occasional exhaustion and quiet. And of course, the sometimes rather bad spells she gets. You never much saw it, but you distinctly remember Six looking worried for her a long time ago, when Five was in the infirmary.

You frown, then. If Gale cherishes Five just as much as Six, why let her get drugged that way? Unless of course it isn’t something they can control. Either Milos is too willing to hurt his Number, or The Overseer is simply testing out how other kinds of drugs affect his prisoners. You don’t doubt there’s a Letter out there facing the same treatment. To think that you’re all part of some kind of sick experiment…You just wish you knew why. Are you all just subjects in a drug trial? Victims of a madman who just wants to see what happens to your bodies when he messes around with them?

In a fit of frustration and disgust, you exhale a long breath and shake this thought away and focus again on your body. Nothing can be done about anything that’s already in motion now.

When you look down at your arms, you notice a slight bit of thin hair protruding from the flesh there. It’s hardly noticeable at first until you concentrate hard on it, but the sight does make you realize that you were never really groomed this whole time. Since there aren’t any razors in sight around this bathroom, you suppose your doctor took care of certain kinds of awkward grooming whenever you were completely unconscious. How invasive and gross. Though, you almost wonder whether the boys get facial hair at all, or if any doctors are partial to body hair on girls. You’re certain none of them really had much on their arms, legs, or faces, but you hardly paid attention to that kind of thing. After a while of seeing scars and bruises and welts and all other manner of injuries, body hair is hardly noticeable.

The thought of grooming leads you again to your hair. When you examine it more closely, it does look a bit longer than you remember it being. Not by very much, but certainly enough for it to be noticeable. Wanting to tame it now, you opt to take your brush from the cabinet and tame the strands in an attempt to give some order to your disheveled state. Looking back in the mirror when you finish yields marginally uplifting results. Though, you do feel a bit better after taking care of something yourself. You again underestimated just how freeing it is to do things on your own. But with Yosuke here again and wanting to hover over you, it’s highly unlikely you’ll get to do this regularly.

Once you’ve finished up in the bathroom, you finally do head to your desk and gently push aside your chair. You then pause, hesitant to open up the drawer. Another round of what-if’s swirls in your head, but you try not to get overwhelmed by it. The journal itself is hardly an issue, but you still worry about your doctor’s response to what you wrote. Though he admitted being grateful about your companions’ love of you being the thing that kept you afloat, you don’t doubt he’s completely sour about the fact that you have more love for them than him. Trying to hide it is unavoidable now.

That all said and done, you now try to push yourself to reach a hand to the drawer to pull it open. You make a sharp jerking motion on the thing, tugging the drawer open quickly since you have absolutely no desire to let this mere object keep tormenting you. Your eyes shut as you do It, but the prompt KA-THUNK of the drawer’s contents rattling around from the motion only confirms your suspicions about the journal being inside.

Now without a choice but to acknowledge the thing, you do finally open your eyes again and bring your hand to the surface of the familiar black cover. It’s definitely the same journal as before, judging by the slightly warped and disheveled outer layer. Touching it again takes you aback as you remember everything associated with this—Gale and their discussion about their own interests, the mention of Six and the memory of you reading her journal, the tantrum you pulled in frustration after being given a journal of your own…

Your eyes lower a bit as the memories flood back to you. In part, you wish The Overseer had at least taken those unpleasant parts away. But of course, even if he did, the emotions tied to those memories are not guaranteed to disappear.

But if that’s true, then wouldn’t your association with Yosuke be negative? Of course, that’s only a possibility. The Overseer could very well make you anew. He knows your mind and the way you remember things far better than you do.

You wince a bit at the thought. Men in this facility all enter your body in many ways. They get into your lower body, into your mind, into your heart—It’s unbearable. You’re constantly being taken advantage of, it seems. You’re not really sure which way of being dominated is worse.

Pushing the bitter thought away, you find it mystifying that the mind is so capable of storing memories. This odd little object in your head is responsible for so much of who you are, yet it’s so fragile. So corruptible.

So mortal.

You don’t want to keep lingering on the frightening awareness of all this. What an existential, self-aware nightmare it must be to never stop thinking about it. You finally pull open the cover of the journal now in your hands and look upon its first page. You fully expected it to be blank, but the note you once wrote is still intact. It sours your mood as you remember why you wrote the note to begin with. It was after Yosuke did what got him in trouble in the first place.

Turning the page leads you to the letter you wrote. The thing spans a few pages, but it’s fairly easy to look over. Each handwritten word seems foreign to you, so much so that you question whether this is even your own writing. It’s been so long that you hardly remember actually writing this out, but know with certainty that the sentiments expressed within your letter are genuine.

Phrases such as you frustrate me and everything you do to me makes me feel miserable do very much express a plain truth that you hold up even now. But you find yourself shocked to see that you also wrote the admittance that Yosuke owns you. When did you ever accept that fact?

No, it makes sense that you would. Even now you suppose you can’t do anything to stop your doctor, and you’re willing to acknowledge that he has a power over you that remains unshaken, even if there are others who have power above him. However, you also seem to have expressed a resilience against your doctor. You were quite blunt about fighting him even from the beginning, but it’s reflected quite adamantly in writing here.

I’m learning to fight you, you’d written. All you’ll do by punishing me is drive me further away from you.

Is that why he isn’t punishing you now? Or has he decided merely to wait upon doing so since you two have just barely reunited?

Naturally, you did write strongly about a love of those close to you, but it seems you weren’t particular about listing who specifically. Even so, you’re quite certain your doctor figured out immediately who you meant. He already had drilled you about Cyrus and Lav before. Even Eight of all people, if you recall from your “date”. But you’re sure he knows from experience that Eight isn’t the romantic type. Why Yosuke ever saw him as a threat of some kind baffles you.

You then frown as you ponder whether your getting close to those three was something orchestrated by Gale. It’d make you feel a bit cheated, but you won’t say the feelings you have for your companions aren’t genuine. The same can likely be said of Five and Six’s feelings about one another—perhaps even if they were to find out their relationship were tailored, they’d still love each other. Even so, you still won’t tell them. Let them be happy.

Though Gale wants to orchestrate such specific circumstances for the sake of observation, you still think their attachment to you is largely neutral in comparison to someone like your doctor’s. Hell, the people who have most been willing to break rules because of you have been him, Mom, Gale, and Lucius. Nathaniel to some extent too, but he didn’t break a rule specifically for you—he’s expressed the tendency to do it in general.

Odd, you think. Yosuke wanted you, and Mom merely followed. You suppose maybe she got so attached to you purely because of Yosuke’s own attachment to you. After all, she once hovered over Eight and eventually stopped. As for Lucius, he’s only interested in stirring horrible feelings and getting a reaction just to amuse himself. Maybe such actions aren’t quite unlike Gale’s, but he does things with a far more malicious intent.

You can piece together why The Overseer struggles to understand the reason others act out the way they do because of you. Each individual has their own reasons that are sometimes rooted in the kind of people they are, or the influences around them. The man hardly understands people, moreso the physical properties of their bodies and minds. Even a thorough explanation from Gale might not allow him to fully comprehend it. He’s more procedural than emotional, something you gathered from your time dealing with him. But people are simply unpredictable at times. It’s another thing you’ve come to learn too.

Your fingers thumb through the other pages of the notebook, though there’s hardly anything there. Maybe you expected Yosuke to have responded or something, or even for Gale to have said something themself. It’s not certain whether that’s a relief to you or not.

The sound of your room door sliding open suddenly takes you aback, and in your surprise you jump and let the notebook slip from your fingers. It crashes to the floor quite loudly, its pages fluttering around until the thing finally hits the hard floor.

Your head turns toward your doctor at the door, your shocked eyes watching his face nervously as he eyes the mess. In one hand, he’s balancing a tray topped with dishes brimming with food. A few books, a pad of paper, and a pack of what you think are colored pencils are all tucked under this upper arm. His free hand was likely used to open the door. Despite lugging so much, he’s able to balance himself quite gracefully and doesn’t much seem bothered having to hold everything.

Yosuke doesn’t quite react to seeing the notebook. He merely glances down at it, then immediately takes his attention off the thing, and focuses back on you. Your doctor ferries his load to your desk since you’re close to it. He first takes the tray and places it on the surface of the desk, then leaves the paper objects and the colored pencils on the upper left corner. From his pocket, he extracts a few mechanical pencils, then places them beside the books.

You stand there in a nervous silence, watching Yosuke’s every move. He does not frown or scowl, nor does he speak about the journal. All he does is bend to pluck it from the floor, then return it to its place in the open drawer before shutting the thing completely. He sports a subtle, calm smile on his face once this task is done and looks over at you kindly. Yosuke turns his body toward you then, and places a hand on the top of your desk chair. He turns it toward you as well, then proceeds to pat lightly at its surface.

“Sit down, dear,” he beckons you gently, though even now his voice still carries exhaustion to it. “You should eat. I know I said I have to go, but I will stay just a moment and take off after you’re done.”

Your eyes flicker between the populated desk and your doctor, but you don’t linger long in your hesitance to follow his word. Quietly, you take a seat, and Yosuke gently wheels you in place so that you’re between him and the desk.

Looking down at the meal he’s brought, you’re rather overwhelmed by the selection. Most meals are a simple plate of food, but your doctor’s apparently brought a small plate of salad and a bowl of soup on top of the main dish. Both other dishes are rather hearty and chunked with various ingredients that you can’t place. Atop the middle plate are wedged potatoes, chopped and steamed greens, and some kind of sliced red meat.

“This is a lot of food,” you remark with surprise. You then wince slightly as Yosuke’s hand trails along the top of your head. He pets you gently, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine as you recall the sensation from many prior times.

“Yes,” Yosuke gives a weary, soft laugh at your surprise. “I want you to regain your strength as soon as possible, my dear. If you can’t finish it, that’s alright. But please eat as much of it as you can. I’ll make sure to feed you well until your weight has evened out.”

Your eyes don’t leave the desk as you sit awkwardly at it. Your doctor still hasn’t bothered to react to the notebook and it’s driving you up the wall. You want to get the unpleasantness of his distaste for your words out of the way so that you can stop worrying about it.

Not in the mood to sit in silence, you do lift the fork on the left side of the tray and begin to eat. Yosuke merely withdraws his hand from your head to let you do so, then folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the wall your desk is on. He opts to watch you with a calm, simple smile sported on his face.

“I wasn’t quite sure what books you like,” he remarks. “So I brought a few novels that are easy to digest. You should be able to finish at least one.”

“I’m not much a reader anyway,” you mumble between bites. The food is impeccably delicious and makes your mouth water between bites. You can’t wait to see how Charlie’s doing again. You’ll give him a lot of thanks for his meals. “But I think I remember reading a few books here and there. Usually stories of some kind.”

“Do you like stories?”

“I guess so. I’m not the academic type like Eight, so I prefer stories.”

“Literature is fascinating,” Yosuke comments. “I recall that Eight used to love reading textbooks.”

Your eyelids droop a bit as you glance down. “…Do you even care about him anymore?”

“Whatever inkling of a bond we did share ended long ago,” Yosuke reminds you. “But it doesn’t matter. I have you.”

He certainly sounds like his old self, even if his tone isn’t at all like it once was. You pick your head up and look over at your hovering doctor.

“Are you not mad?”

He raises a brow at your question. “About what, dear?”

You grip your fork tightly in one hand. “Well…you know.”

By the look on his face, you doctor never once questioned what you meant. He just wanted you to say it. You can see on his face that he’s a tinge displeased. You want to be forward, but for this, you find it a struggle to be. Without skipping a beat, Yosuke merely frowns and responds,

“Let’s not dwell on that now. But do know that you’re forgiven.”

Your eyes slightly widen, and your heart almost stops upon the mention of the word “forgiven”. In your mind, this only implies that Yosuke was angry at your words at some point. Whether he’s still sour now remains to be seen, but he’s treating you kindly right now in his attempt to get accustomed to his role again—not as if it’s hard for him to do so with how unsettling he’s been with you today already.

The conversation slightly ebbs after this, and so you continue to eat. Your doctor does eventually break the silence and change topics as quickly and casually as he used to.

“I hope colored pencils are to your liking,” he says, now eyeing the pile on the corner of your desk. “I figured it would suffice for the short time you’ll be here. But it’ll certainly be nice to have something colorful to do when you’re resting here in general.”

“As if I’ll be doing very much of anything,” you mutter between bites of the vegetables on your plate. “If I recall, it was always a routine of being drugged and fucked.”

“Drugging is something we do depending on the situation,” Yosuke thoughtfully mentions. “If not to spare you the discomfort of being cleaned or the drollness of walking between places, it’s procedural or for security. We can’t have you attempting to run amok.”

“Do you really think anyone’s going to fight back?”

“I do,” your doctor admits. “But we aren’t equipped to stop you. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? Even so, you won’t get very far without knowing where to go or what buttons to push between halls.”

“I’d considered as much,” you sourly retort. “I’ve thought a lot about escape just as much as confinement. I know it’s pointless to run, but that evidently hasn’t stopped people from trying. I’m not smart or brave enough for that kind of thing. And everyone seems to know I’d rather not leave anyone behind.”

Yosuke goes silent a moment before responding. “…You must have done quite a lot of thinking in your time away.”

You pause and look back at him, frowning. “I did. You have no idea.”

Your doctor then smiles weakly again. “I’ve had a lot to think about as well, my dear. That’s the thing about solitude. You have more than enough time to think. Many in the real world tend to presume that the unhappiest people are the ones with such time to reflect on things like purpose and meaning. Perhaps that’s a stereotypical way to see it, but it isn’t always untrue. Isolation can drive one mad. It’s why we often seek out others for company.”

Another forkful of food hits your lips, and you don’t bother to respond to your doctor’s remark while you quietly chew it. After a brief quiet, another question enters your mind, and so you decide to ask it.

“Yosuke, how long was I gone?”

Your doctor frowns again as the inquiry leaves your mouth.

“I can’t say,” he tells you bluntly. “But it was…quite a while.”

“Months?”

Yosuke gives a rather breathy laugh, as if amused. “No. I couldn’t quite imagine my superior would keep you that close for months upon months. Certainly not a year either. He couldn’t stand a person for that long unless they’re likeminded, or close to him to begin with.”

“Well, he did get pretty tired of me after a while.” You continue to nibble at your food, now bothering to touch the salad, then taste the soup. Both are quite light in flavor, but certainly good. “He decided to let me go pretty randomly, but it’s not like I had the whole story. He might have planned for my release far in advance. I don’t know what he thinks or why.”

“He’s always been a man of procedure,” remarks your doctor thoughtfully, his olive eyes trailing upward as he mindlessly looks up at the ceiling. “A methodical individual too. He’s very set in his ways and expects things to be carried on in specific manners. Deviations are usually with reason. Usually.”

You want to add a comment about how little The Overseer really understands people, but you hold your tongue. Even if it’s quite likely there aren’t cameras in this room, you won’t chance too much right now.

“What’s going to happen, by the way?” You ask. “With us? Am I just supposed to go back to things like normal?”

“Yes,” Yosuke says with a rather meager attempt at a shrug. “He expects no less than for us to bounce back from things and continue on when something goes awry. That goes for punishments as well. As I said, we’ll have to adjust back into the routine and recuperate from our accustomated miserable states. Frankly, I’ll be quite glad not to have so many regular pecking visits from Lucius. I don’t doubt our superior will fill his associate’s freed schedule with countless other jobs.”

“Our distaste of him is the only thing that unites us,” you grumble before taking another bite of food. By now, your main plate is done, but you’re unable to keep eating beyond half of the soup and salad. For the first time in a while, you feel genuinely full to a point that eating is just physically undesirable. You soon put your fork down and gently push away the tray.

“I’m glad you still have an appetite at all,” Yosuke remarks as he pushes off the wall to start collecting your dishes. Before he does, though, he stops and looks at your face. “You seem strangely well adjusted to all this. Has it not disoriented you?”

You frown and turn your body toward Yosuke in your chair. “Of course it has. But like I told you, I had to carry myself through all this, even with a little help from the others by using what they’ve taught me. I didn’t wanna be alone. I was just pushed into everything and had to either adapt or fall. I just chose the latter.”

Yosuke exhales a bit of breath from his nose and cups your left cheek. His olive gaze remains affixed to you.

“Do you regret that decision?”

You don’t take your eyes off of him. “No I’m tired of everyone thinking death is a better alternative for me. Your boss said I should wish to die, and Micah even said I should have ‘stayed dead’. I can’t accept that. I made the decision to stay and push through. I know being allowed back here with my memory of this place and my confinement both intact is nothing but a double-edged sword. I have to put up with you and the other doctors, and I have to live with knowing what I do and with fully remembering the extent of my abuse.

“But even with that, it’s also a blessing to be able to see those I love again. If I have to wait to see them just that much longer, so be it. But you’re not one of those people, Yosuke. I depend on you, and I have no choice but to deal with you. That’s all. You lost your chance to make me love you, and you even lost me for a while. You can control me, but you can’t win me.”

Yosuke goes quiet as he assesses your face further. Eventually, he swipes a thumb against the corner of your mouth and smiles sweetly.

“Dear, you left a bit of food on your face,” he notes, completely ignoring your heartfelt remarks. “What a messy girl. Here.”

His hand drops from your cheek to your chin, griping it gently. As he’s always done, he leans in with his eyes closed and gives your lips a sweet peck, lingering just a moment to lightly suck against them. The warmth of his kiss and the personal nature of the act sends a small rush of blood to your cheeks. Perhaps it’s instinctive, or perhaps it’s the familiar way you’re kissed that flusters you just slightly. Regardless, you don’t move from your chair and merely wait until Yosuke pulls away.

When he opens his olive eyes again, you give him a dissatisfied gaze.

“You still haven’t bothered to listen to me,” you tell him doggedly. “You’re still ignoring every problem I’ve brought up. Every word I-!“

“I’ve heard you, Ten.” Your doctor interrupts your words of frustration, his voice a bit sterner now. “I know well how you feel, and toward whom. You’ve made every desire toward fighting me quite clear. I am sorry you feel the way you do, but you are mine, and you are here, and that’s not going to change. Calm yourself down, now. Let’s not spoil this time we have together after so long.”

He rubs the back of his hand along your cheek and again returns to his softer tone.

“You’re just tired from all the awful things you’ve been put through. Flustered. Angry. As well am I. You’ve had no verbal outlet for those feelings for a long while. So do take time to recover. Very soon, we’ll continue as we were, as if nothing happened. Alright?”

You can see a faint tinge of frustration in his eyes even as he speaks sweetly. You’re both quite moody, it would appear. That’s not a word you’d have ever used to describe the man before you, but circumstances do indeed change a person. Drugs, exhaustion, separation—all these things have taken a toll one way or another.

Not wanting to stir anything further in Yosuke, you pause and obediently touch your hand to your doctor’s as it lingers over your flesh. You cup the underside of his palm, then bring his hand down and cup its backside with your other hand.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice remains low as you give in to satisfy the man and quell his subtle upset. You have to keep him at bay now—you haven’t forgotten that part of your deal with The Overseer. “It’s been a long, miserable time for me.”

Yosuke’s eyes softly watch your avoidant gaze, though his smile has faded for the moment. “I understand.”

However, he eventually pulls away from your touch and moves to collect your tray of dishes.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he promises you as he heads out. “Be a good girl for me and do what I suggested. A little movement will be healthy for you. Do take it slow, though.”

You give a quiet nod, and then hold your breath in anticipation for your doctor to fully exit your room, and leave you in another long bout of quiet in which you can reflect on things in. Before he fully retreats from your bedroom, however, he turns back his body just enough for you to fully see his face and a part of the grey tie hanging over his chest from his neck. Yosuke gives a rather warm, wide smile, one that shines even through the exhaustion in his framed eyes. He calls out to you in an inviting tone,

“Welcome home, my pet.”

Chapter 69: Routine

Perhaps it’s the getting accustomed to your prior confinement that’s left you uncertain as to what to do, but for the first few moments you’re left alone after your meal, you really can’t bring yourself to just pick up an activity. Now that the journal is no longer such a pressing issue for now—aside from Yosuke’s future reactions to knowing you love someone other than him, naturally—you’re quite unsure what to start doing despite knowing that you’re free to move around now and do most anything within the confines of your room. For a while, and until the food in your full stomach settles, you merely lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling while attempting to absorb the fact that you’re really here. Even after your initial encounter with Yosuke, it’s still pretty surreal.

The silence only adds to your conundrum. You’d become used to the sounds of The Overseer or Lucius moving about, but now you’ve been left completely alone and in silence. It’s at least a far more peaceful quiet since you know there won’t be any crude intrusions from either man, though you dread the next entrance of your own doctor. Perhaps to a lesser extent than someone like Lucius, but that dread lingers nonetheless.

Moreover, you hadn’t realized how nice it was to not always be in the presence of smoke. You suppose that you’d known a smoker before all this with how little it really bothered you, but there’s a stark difference between the odor in The Overseer’s room and the odor in yours. The air is cleaner here. And if you can tell that much, you figure you weren’t ever a smoker yourself. You think their senses of smell and taste are a bit different from non-smokers.

The quiet does eventually get to you, though. With the heavier anesthetic completely wearing off, you do find that there’s a lot more energy in your body now. You aren’t much sure how to work out without tools or without a whole lot of space to move about, so you resort to just repeating motions in your arms and legs first in the hopes that something will come to you.

While on the bed, you start by pointing each leg up and circling them tightly around, going one by one. This proves to be of genuine discomfort far too quickly, though, so you don’t exert yourself much. Your attempt at exercise feels far too meager, but you suppose there’s not much you can do. Maybe when you go back to the others you’ll try utilizing the gym more. Even if there’s not really any equipment there for reasons that you suspect surround not letting you Numbers gain too much muscle, there’s still a bit you can do there. Swimming could be helpful too.

Your next attempt at getting your body used to movement again is to get off the bed and instead onto the floor. You know how to do pushups and sit-ups—they’re pretty basic things to do in this situation, but useful given your limitations. However, doing even one pushup is quite hard. You manage to push it to four, but stop just after. It’s not that you’re that incredibly weak, is it? No, it probably is. You’ll just have to push yourself harder in the future. Not like you can see yourself gaining a lot of upper body muscle, though. Someone like Lav is more suited to it than you. She probably already came here with some muscle anyway. After all, she hardly looked too different in her video feed during her interview with Gale.

You manage to do a series of various exercises that involve twisting and lifting your torso and knees. You can vaguely recall that such exercises are of use for your stomach. After a while, you find yourself splitting your legs and stretching to the sides, then reaching forward to touch one of your feet. The feeling of stretching is in itself refreshing, you find. After being pent up so long without much of a chance, or without the motivation to do anything but lie there, this is quite freeing. There’s hardly a hindrance—No cuffs, no shackles, no anything. Even the chance to do such a menial task means a lot to you.

Eventually you stand again and do a few more stretches to relieve tension in your back and highly-raised arms. You wind up feeling so good that you slowly shut your eyes, and only when you open them do you realize you’ve bent with your body curved back quite a bit. The moment you become aware of this position, you become dizzied by the sudden sight of the ceiling and walls at an angle that you lose your balance and tip backward. Your body crashes to the floor, but luckily nothing is really injured beyond a light bump on the back of your head.

You sit up on the floor and rub the area, partially touching your neck as well. Your fingers then graze along the slightly cut patch of hair there. You pause upon feeling it, the memory of waking up in that horrible chair in The Overseer’s theater flashing in your mind. With it comes all the jumpiness you felt then. Your heart temporarily races a moment before settling.

As your hand moves back and forth and your fingers slowly rub at the trimmed area, your hair runs over the back of your hand. Were it not for the lengthened strands that have grown over the course of your time here, the patch of cut hair might be much more obvious. It’s otherwise covered.

You suppose new Numbers probably have such a patch of cut hair when they first come. You never much noticed it before, unless of course there’s time taken between your procedure and your being brought to your room that’s long enough for the hair to regrow.

How must it have been for the other Numbers to wake up in this facility, anyway? From what you recall, they seem not to really remember a lot about their first moments here, something you’re not much surprised by. It’s been a while since then. Plus, their memories were altered to exclude the previous Ten, so you don’t doubt that some insignificant memories were also lost in the process. You wonder just what other memories were cut off.

Upon gathering your wits again after the embarrassing fall, you push off the floor and stand again. The motion makes the wobbly feeling in your muscles more prominent, and you come to realize that you’re a tinge tired from all the exercises. They weren’t all that many, really. But you figure your body is still weak enough to where they would be so taxing at such a small level.

Admittedly, you’d like to keep going. The movements felt good. You hadn’t really ever moved around much in your time at this facility. Most of the strain on your body has come from being fucked and put in awkward positions. But beyond that, the only things you can really remember are playing basketball with Lav, and Nathaniel’s leading you in a dance a long while back. Those were probably the only times you really did anything not particularly sexual with your body.

Regarding Nathaniel’s activity, you remember finding it easy to follow along despite the inexperience. It wasn’t too unnatural for you then. Even though you unfortunately associated the music he used with your own doctor given that it was comprised of his preferred instrument, you still remember enjoying the song’s sound and following along with it easily. Maybe you once did that sort of thing long ago, though it’d be pointless to try remembering.

Hell, you’re not book smart nor particularly gifted in most other arts. You really just don’t know anything at all. The Overseer had said Mnemosyne took away a lot of what you knew because it was so potent. You’re quite bitter at that fact. If only you could remember something at all…

You heave a sigh and rub at your temple a bit before opting to sit down at your desk. Even if you’re no good at art, you suppose you’ll give scribbling on the paper pad a try. Though, your eyes do wander to the books at the corner of the metal surface. You drop your hand and pick one up, noting a white cover without any words or images on it.

When you open the book and thumb through the thing a bit, you’re surprised to find that it’s some kind of adventure-based story. You half-expected Yosuke to be cheesy and bring you a romance novel, or something similar to cheekily attempt giving you ideas. Even the second book is more of a light mystery novel, though you aren’t sure you can stomach it. You don’t like not knowing things, so why be fascinated by a mystery novel? Such a story would only bother you until you got concrete answers. But if you can remember anything from the books you’ve read prior, sometimes answers aren’t always given explicitly.

Maybe you’ll peck at the first book later. For now, you place both back where they were and instead bring the paper pad before you. Rather than immediately begin with colored pencils, you instead pull the pen from your drawer, then bring its tip to one of the pages on the pad.

Not sure what to really draw, you mindlessly attempt to recreate the Numbers’ visages and bodies from memory. It’s been so long since you’ve seen their faces that this task provides a worthy challenge. This is only furthered by your lack of art skills, but you give it your all nonetheless. You did build a doll of Jay, after all. It shouldn’t be hard to at least try.

Quietly and with as much effort as you can muster, you start to draw nine heads and faces. You’re not sure whether to include yourself right now, so your focus remains on everyone else. Violet, you find, is easiest to draw since you’ve seen her recently.

You hope the girl’s alright. You can’t really fathom what it is her doctor was angry at her for. Micah’s always gotten easily upset over trivial things. He likes being in charge. But all things considered, Violet didn’t seem all that weak beneath him. She hardly cowered, merely reacted much like you have with your own doctor. You’ve never seen her interact with Micah before, and while she was trying to be obedient with him, she did still give a bit of a fight if only through her expression. It’s a look you’ve given your own doctor time and time again. Perhaps you should be glad she’s still able to resist Micah in some ways. You don’t want your friend to be the way she was back when you first met her, nor the way she was after her spat with Cyrus.

Drawing her with shorter hair feels odd. You wonder why she cut it off, unless it was Micah’s decision. You aren’t sure how he likes most of the young women he sees, nor is it something that pleases you to think of. You remain instead focused on your task of drawing, taking things slow so that you don’t mess anything up. Since your only tools are a pen and colored pencils, most everything you’re drawing is permanent. But fortunately, other than a few stray lines and some awkward faces, your work is passable. You’re still never going to be as good as someone like Blue, but perhaps she’d praise you for at least trying.

“I guess ‘A' for effort,” she’d probably tell you in her casual tone. You smile a bit thinking of it.

However long you’ve been at this, you don’t know. At some point you zone out in your heavy focus. The way your eyes have dried a bit and the way your neck starts to feel strained after hunching over the desk, you figure you’ve been at this for quite a while. Certainly, it’s been long enough that you genuinely do start to feel a bit sleepy and yearn for a quick nap. Staring at a white page for so long has made your eyelids a bit heavy. At the very least, you did manage to sketch out everyone together. Looking at the image now, some heads look a little larger than others. You suppose there’s an art to perspective, one you’re no good at. Still, it makes you smile to see your friends, even if badly drawn on a page.

With a desire to rest a little, you push away from your desk and hop graciously into your bed. The soft sheets and overall plush comforter are more than inviting. Despite knowing where you are and the horrors that lie in this facility, for just this moment you decide to be selfish and enjoy the pleasant sensation of softness.

You bundle under the covers and finally lay your head on the plush pillow, sinking warmly into it. Pushing every other thought out of your mind for just a little while allows you to slip away into a quiet slumber. It feels good to finally rest on your own without the worry of what horrors The Overseer or Lucius will bring you. Even if you have to face Yosuke, at least he won’t outwardly try to hurt you for no reason.

No dream comes in your quiet rest. You genuinely wind up completely knocked out and comfortable in your bed after so long of discomfort. It’s the mere soft stroking of the side of your head that brings you slowly into consciousness again. You aren’t precisely pleased knowing whose touch it is, but you’re simultaneously left lightly blushing at the kinder sensation.

“My apologies, pet,” Yosuke’s voice croons in your ear. You’re facing away from him now, toward the wall with your bathroom door on it. “You do look quite comfortable. Unfortunately, I need you to wake up from your little nap. You can sleep more later.”

Now that the energy you got from your light workout has worn off, you do feel a tinge weary, but certainly less strained in the eyes and a bit rested. You suppose you knocked out for a short while given you aren’t totally full of energy.

You turn yourself just a little to face your doctor hovering over your bedside. He’s still sporting the same tired eyes as before, though he looks a bit less frazzled and frustrated than he did earlier. Your presence must then already be having some sort of effect on him. You’re not exactly happy about that.

“Why?” You groggily ask. Yosuke continues to pet your head, running his fingers sweetly through your roots.

“I need to examine you and take care of one of your shots,” is the response you’re given. “It won’t take very long, but it might be awkward for you.”

You then lower your brows slightly and again ask with a harsher tone, “Why?”

Yosuke chuckles tiredly. “I’ll be checking your body fully, dear. I want to make sure you’re doing alright. The rest of you I’m able to check without issue, but I’m no Nathaniel, and I don’t have the tools to do what he does anyway. But I’ll certainly examine what I can.”

Hearing this makes your heart skip a beat, but you attempt to remind yourself that there’s nothing Yosuke will find out by a simple examination alone. He’d have to see you bleeding to know you can still get pregnant.

Though this thought quells one fear, another surfaces—you aren’t sure if Yosuke’s going to use this as an excuse to take advantage of your body. It’s too soon to be doing this, after all. You want to believe he’ll take things slow, but also know well how he can be when he’s aroused by you. He’s tended to get hot and bothered quite easily, after all. When he gets that way, Yosuke has typically treated you like tender prey.

“You look taken aback, dear,” Yosuke notes with a light frown. “Are you upset?”

“A little,” you admit without explaining in detail why. You’d rather not give the man any ideas. “I’m just nervous I guess. It’s been a while.”

“You spent all that time without clothes. This shouldn’t be so bad by comparison.”

“I know.”

Yosuke sighs a bit but does remain ever positive despite the persistent exhaustion. He reaches down and picks you up, letting the comforter slide off your body as you’re plucked from the bed.

“Hold on tight, darling,” he gently urges you. Obediently, you wrap your arms around your doctor’s neck and stay close against him.

“When can I walk again?” You persist. “I need to get some exercise, don’t I?”

“Of course, my pet,” Yosuke gives a smile as he looks down at you. “But I missed this. Let me enjoy caring for you again. I have to for the moment anyway.”

You don’t protest further and simply keep your head leaning against Yosuke. As he walks onward, you peek over at your desk and notice that the paper pad has been closed.

“What time of day is it?” You ask upon seeing the empty hall again. You half-expected to catch sight of someone else, but it seems the area is completely barren.

“Everyone’s gone to bed,” Yosuke remarks in response as he ferries you to the next room. “I finished my work for the day and am making time to spend with you for now. Something not apparently allowed after hours now thanks to what I did, but I’ve been permitted the opportunity tonight and tomorrow night so long as my ‘recuperation’ hardly interferes with my work or anyone’s affairs. I’m not sure how long you slept for, but you’ve been in your room for a good many hours.”

“Not long, I don’t think,” you comment. “I could still sleep.”

Your eyes immediately lock onto your exam room bed the moment the door opens to reveal the white of the walls, sheets, and cabinets. The sight takes you aback as had the sight of your room after your lengthy confinement. This place is unfortunately quite familiar. Your heart flutters nervously in anticipation for what Yosuke might do. Even if he does decide to make use of your body now, you’re sure he would at least refrain from being too rough. Right?

Your doctor gently sits you down on the side of the bed, then moves to cups the underside of your chin.

“Now you’ll be a good girl and stay still, won’t you?” He asks gently, sporting a smile. “I don’t want to have to fight with you tonight.”

This only makes you blush more. Your eyes shift away, but you keep your hands in your lap and obediently stay still. Nothing comes out of your mouth, but you do give your doctor a slow nod.

You look over near the cabinets behind your bed and see that there are already a few instruments and a clipboard along the surface of the counter. Evidently your doctor prepared for this before coming to get you.

Yosuke makes his way there and dresses his hands with white latex gloves, tugging them down over his wrist. He then plucks a stethoscope and some kind of arm band with a pump attached to it from the counter before returning to your side. Luckily, there are no visible sex toys or unusual instruments upon the counter beyond what you’ve seen used for examinations like this. Then again, your doctor’s never used toys all that often. You aren’t sure if he has any other interests outside of what he’s shown. He’s only used something on you once, if you recall. Your legs press together at the memory of the thing vibrating against you.

“Sit up straight for me, dear,” you’re gently ordered. “I’ll start with a few basic observations. We’ll move onto hands-on examinations in a moment.”

Hands-on…That phrase carries far too many meanings for you not to worry about it.

Nonetheless, you sit quietly and obey every one of Yosuke’s guiding commands as he proceeds with his examination. He first takes note of your pulse by gripping your wrist firmly enough to feel it, then checks your breathing. The end of his stethoscope presses flatly against your chest and along your back as you suck in and expel deep breaths for him. Your blood pressure is also taken, as well as your temperature through your ear.

Having Yosuke touch you this way is, while awkward, also unfortunately a tinge titillating after a long stretch of nothing but horror and misery. A nice change of pace, despite the cause of your slight stimulation. Always, your doctor’s warm skin brushes against yours, or can be felt thoroughly from behind the thin cloth of your gown. Always, his concentrated breaths hit against your nape, and his quiet hums of observation send shivers down your spine. You almost think he’s doing this on purpose, but you refuse to let him see you flustered, even if it’s only a little bit. It’s a bad idea to get this way since Yosuke intends to examine your body fully. If you respond physically to this and he sees you wet for any reason…

“On the surface, things look normal,” your doctor finally remarks once he’s finished his initial observations. The procedure very much reminds you of your first day here. He’d done well to examine you the same way. “I’m glad. Let me give you a shot before I move onto the rest.”

“Vitamins?” You ask nervously, hoping to distract from the embarrassment of actually responding to some of the light touches. Yosuke gives a gentle “yes” as he brings his tools back to the counter and takes notes down. He then fills a syringe plucked from the surface of the counter with the same substance you’ve been receiving regularly, even in your confinement.

“They did keep up with this, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” you answer without bothering to look Yosuke in the eye. “They just wanted me weak, not dead. Unless…”

“Unless?” Yosuke raises a stern brow, dissatisfied by your answer. He approaches you then, syringe in hand, and proceeds to lift the hem of your skirt enough to expose your thigh.

“…They said they’d kill me if they had to,” you admit in worry at how Yosuke will react. “I told you they treated me awfully beyond bare minimum care. They let me go to the restroom, eat, sleep, and they took care of my regular shots, and that’s all. But your boss threatened me a lot too.”

“My poor dear,” Yosuke gives genuine sympathy as he squeezes a part of your thigh a few times in preparation for the injection. He seems less furious than he was when you first saw him. Perhaps he’s had a little time to come to terms with what befell you. “Luckily, you’re here with me now.”

“Is it so lucky?” You ponder aloud, wincing then as the needle pierces your muscle. “I know how you are.”

“You’re the one who wanted to survive. This is merely part of what that entails. You’ll survive with me, whether you want to or not. We’re quite bound that way.”

The needle eventually retracts from your flesh once the injection is done, and Yosuke moves to discard the used syringe. When he returns, he adjusts your bed so that the back of it is angled quite a ways up, enough to where you’d practically be sitting upright. Rather than ask you to lay back, Yosuke asks instead for you to look and tilt your head up. You obey.

“I’ll start with this,” he says as he presses and rolls both sets of fingers beneath your ears. He trails his rolling fingertips down your neck, though keeps his olive eyes fixated on your blushing face. You let out a light gasping whimper at the unusual sensation, one bred partly from your earlier fears of being choked, and partly from the sudden flustering feeling of your expectations being broken by a gentler touch. You bring a hand over each of Yosuke’s outer wrists, cupping them instinctively, but not with such a tight grip. Your doctors smiles when he catches sight of your reddened cheeks.

“Oh, pet,” he coos. “You missed being touched gently, I see. There’s no need to be so nervous and flustered, you know. I’m just checking your throat and lymph nodes, alright?”

“O-okay,” you mumble in embarrassment, shifting your eyes away to avoid facing Yosuke. Your hands slip from their place over his wrists and fall back into your lap. Once your doctor is done with this task, he next assesses the muscles in your arms, gripping and massaging your upper arms in both hands, going one by one carefully. His thumbs and digits press and roll against the flesh of each arm.

“You have gotten much softer,” Yosuke notes sourly. “I certainly hope you tried to move about a little after I left.”

You slightly nod. “I did. I couldn’t do much, but…it felt good to move again.”

“Good,” Yosuke says with a kind smile. “Utilize the gym and pool when you return to the recreational areas. That should help get your muscles back into their usual form. Now, lie back for me. I’m going to give a quick abdominal exam.”

“W-what?” This catches your nervous attention. Yosuke drops your arm and gestures to the rest of the bed behind you.

“Please lay back, dear,” he urges you again. “It won’t take long. I’ll be nice and not even remove your gown, though I truly should and will probably have to later. I’m only going to make sure everything in your abdominal cavity is just fine through a light physical examination. Again, I’m not Nathaniel, so I can’t assess your reproductive organs much. No need to worry on that part.”

“Will I have to see him or Monica again, then?” You ask. This makes Yosuke pause and frown.

“Again?”

Shit. You should have stayed quiet. You realize now that this is only going to complicate things if you can’t charade your way through it properly.

“I-I had to see Monica,” you choose to be honest with Yosuke about that much, knowing that he can likely tell you’re lying even after all this time apart from you. “Your boss let me have an examination at least once. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

None of this is wrong. It’s the truth, so you have no reason to worry.

“Monica…?” Yosuke remarks thoughtfully, looking away a moment. “To think she knew you were alive and said nothing…”

He’s gotten distracted. Good.

However, you reach to touch your doctor’s hand when he starts to show signs of a sparking fury in his olive eyes. The fingers of his other hand curl tightly around your leg, though his grip loosens when he feels your hand brush against the back of his.

“They’re the ones who wanted her to keep quiet,” you explain. “All she did was make sure I was okay. She was nice to me, promise.”

Yosuke again turns to you, and his expression softens.

“I see. I’m glad, then,” he reasons with himself as he expresses this. “I haven’t much talked to her. Like I said, I’ve only really spoken to your mother. And as it is, she came upstairs to see me, knowing the state I was in and fully wanting to take advantage of it. I never went over to the hall. I saw nobody.”

“Did Mom never talk about her?” You question. “Or anything about what was going on while you were working?”

“No,” your doctor answers plainly. “She did occasionally gossip about the other doctors, but mostly talked about us. She hardly brought anything else up. I know next to nothing about what’s been going on down here since you were taken.”

“Oh…”

Yosuke lets out a nasally huff of breath as a slight frustration still lingers, but does return his focus to you and what’s happening now. He smiles again for you.

“Now please lay back, dear,” he again urges. “Let’s continue.”

You obey and bring your legs up onto the mattress, then pull your body back so that you can lay back on the angled bed.

“Arms by your sides,” Yosuke instructs as you get into position. “Don’t move, even if it feels strange. Alright?”

“Yes,” you obey, clutching at the soft sheets of your examination room bed. Though, your eyes trail elsewhere in your want not to face Yosuke as he does this. No doubt he’s going to get some pleasure out of this, even if he’s by chance not going to use you. “I’m assuming you usually do this when I’m asleep?”

“I do,” your doctor answers you without protest. “But you’ve already just slept a bit, so there’s no helping it now. Relax, pet. I’ll be gentle with you. I always am for this. For you.”

You blush a bit more as your doctor’s warm fingers gently press against you’re the left side of your upper stomach. He makes small circles and focuses his eyes intently on the area. Yosuke does not bother to tease you verbally about your reaction, but occasionally flickers his olive eyes toward your face and gives an amused, subtle smile before returning to his work.

This is far more personal than you want to be right now, but you can do no more than let your doctor examine you slowly and carefully. Your stomach of all places…you wish he’d let you stay asleep, or put you out. Something.

Yosuke slowly moves down your whitely clothed abdomen, the shift in position increasing your nervous reaction. Your heart flutters nervously at the warmth of his fingertips upon you there. In part, you anticipate that he’ll find something out of sorts, but he apparently has no reaction to anything as he glides his hands along your stomach, pressing against it firmly as if it were dough.

Your fingers curl around the sheet atop the bed, but you say nothing and merely eye your doctor’s hands as they assess you physically. After a while, Yosuke finally pulls back. He glances at you tenderly.

“Good girl,” he praises. “I’m not noticing any immediate issues, and everything looks good overall. So you’re just fine. But now I need to do this.”

“…This?” You peep in response, despite knowing precisely what’s coming next. Yosuke gives a soft chuckle and pets your head.

“Yes, this,” he coos. “Keep laying still for me. It won’t take but a moment.”

You watch with a pounding heart as your doctor lifts the hem of your gown between the index finger and thumb of both hands, both hovering over either leg. Your thighs instinctively press together as you watch him expose the white cloth underwear over your lower body.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, my pet,” Yosuke purrs as he watches your stifled reaction. “I just want to make sure you’re alright down here on a surface level, that’s all. Your body is my responsibility, after all, though what I can’t do I’ll have to leave to Nathaniel another day. Now, spread your legs for me.”

Your hands slightly quiver as your grip on the sheet tightens. Why are you so nervous now? You anticipated your doctor would pull something sooner or later. Maybe you’re still reeling from what Lucius put you through. This is to be expected, after all. But Yosuke won’t hurt you so long as you obey him and remain honest with him. You have no reason to be so afraid. You can afford to let loose just a little.

You give a subtle gasp as Yosuke runs his palm along the top of your thigh.

“Please, darling. Cooperate with me,” he urges while fixating his gaze upon your face. “I don’t want to have to use force after what you’ve just been through. Not this soon.”

You blush and continue to tremble slightly, but do eventually give your doctor what he wants and part your thighs awkwardly for him.

“Good girl,” you’re gently praised. Yosuke then moves his hand up to the top of your underwear and slowly pulls them down, the cloth sliding along your flesh. You avoid looking down again as your doctor undresses you. The cold air hits your vulva and inner thighs, making you all too aware of the bareness again. It’s not an unfamiliar sensation by now.

While sucking in breaths to keep yourself calm, you wait patiently as Yosuke’s fingers carefully stroke and prod against your vulva. He examines you closely, bearing nothing but a calm expression as he parts your labia and looks you thoroughly over. The latex rubbing against your flesh at your clit, and the pads of his fingers teasing the entrance of your pussy as he examines it only makes you blush more. A whimper wants to escape your throat, but you refuse to let it through and tense your throat tightly to prevent it from escaping. You merely sit there in agonizing quiet as you’re felt and examined.

Despite your worry of Yosuke taking advantage of this opportunity to use you, he largely behaves himself. No doubt he’s quietly enjoying this reaction of yours and the sight of your body again, but he does nothing. Whatever pleasure he’s feeling, he hiding it incredibly well. No delightful smirk nor grim smile paints his face. He seems largely neutral.

“Hmm,” he hums as his fingers finally retract carefully from your flesh. “Nothing out of the ordinary, it seems. No damage, discoloration, nor infection. Wonderful.”

You breathe a slight sigh of relief when the man moves your underwear back up, tugging the thin fabric up over your lower body, still with a calm expression on his face. Once your gown is gently spread back over your thighs, your fingers unfurl from their grip on the bedsheet, and you finally relax a bit.

“Very good girl, Ten,” Yosuke praises you with a sweet smile as he removes his gloves. “Other than the apparent weight loss and your drastically dampened mood, you are in quite acceptable health. I expected your condition to be far worse, but it seems you’re rather physically resilient all things considered. I’m pleased.”

He then gives a light frown of concern. “Are you hungry again yet, dear?”

“Not particularly.” You take this opportunity of his switching gears to brush aside the feelings brought upon by your uncomfortable examination.

“Well, I won’t let you eat to a point that you’re sick, but we should at least have you put something in your stomach. As I said, it’s been quite a few hours,” Yosuke remarks. “Stay here, pet. I’ll bring you a small little something to fill you.”

Hearing him use words like “fill” only leaves you queasy as it only reminds you of all the other times he used the word to refer to rather unsightly acts. It falls from his lips in much the same way, regardless of what it is he’s referring to.

Yosuke finishes marking up his notes on the paper clipped to his board, then places it face down on the counter before walking off.

“Why not take it and deliver it like usual?” You ask. “Mom would still be there, right?”

Yosuke pauses by the door and turns his head.

“I don’t much feel like going back there yet,” he admits. “I will when it’s time to bring you back. No doubt your mother and Monica will be delighted to see you again. Now stay put, dear. I’ll return in just a moment.”

You figure then that he’s wasting time going elsewhere for food, just to avoid the gate which is so much closer to this room. Is he really that afraid of facing Mom? Or is it the reminder of your time away from him that vexes him? You’ve never known your doctor to really fear anything. He’s mainly been avoidant, not frightened.

The door opens, then shuts when your doctor has exited the room. He’s given you no chance to protest or ask more questions, but you suppose you don’t mind. The respite from the awkwardness of being examined is over, so you have room to breathe again.

Out of curiosity, you do get up and move toward the counter to look at Yosuke’s notes, but when you flip over the clipboard, you can’t make heads or tails of anything other than numbers and an array of abbreviations that mean nothing to you. Only a few sentences are written plainly, but they merely remark upon your physical status overall.

Putting the clipboard back down on its face, you then look up at the cabinets above the counter. Would you get in trouble for looking through them, you wonder? Not like you’d even try anything if you found something dangerous enough to fight with. But why they don’t regulate the prisoners’ access to these things to begin with is beyond you. If someone were left alone, they could weaponize anything here if they were desperate enough.

You turn your head a bit and glance over at the door. Yosuke might take a few more minutes. A quick peek should be fine. And even if he gets a bit upset at you for prying, it’s not like you’re going to act against him. You don’t want to waste your one last chance to live.

You do eventually turn back and pry open one of the cabinet doors, finding that it’s far lighter than you thought it’d be. The one you open in particular has quite a few various units of storage: beakers, tubes, empty syringes, and small jars. Beside them are a few plastic tubs brimming with more junk you don’t know the purpose of. Opening several of the adjacent cupboards yields similar results, with only slight variations. Some cupboards have bottles of different medications, some have pill bottles, and others have boxes of gloves and medicine and all manner of things that you aren’t sure what they are. Only a few cabinets have more hefty equipment, but you’re again not sure what it’s for. A few things do look familiar, though. Replacement parts for some of the machines you’ve seen before at your bedside, for instance. Even more wires and tubes all wrapped up and tied neatly.

Shuffling through drawers reveals quite a few different tools, particularly thinner and longer ones that fit there. Scissors, clamps, needles, tongs, and all manner of things. One even has a rather large selection of silver medical scalpels, the sight of which makes you shiver. You have no idea why those would be needed in this room.

The bottom cabinets, you find, have most of the tools used for sexual misconduct in this facility. It sickens you to see, but you can gather things like handcuffs, rope, gags, dildoes, vibrators, and bottles of lubricant and other sickly things. Stimulants, perhaps. You hardly want to shuffle through many of these cabinets, and ultimately stop after just two. You’re sure that the towels aren’t too far away, but you don’t want to keep digging.

You start to suspect that The Overseer cares little about the stuff that’s stocked in these rooms beyond the medical. The other doctors are largely responsible for their own sexual acts, so you suppose that they’re the ones who keep all their filthy tools stocked and cleaned. The stuff they use must be so expensive. This place apparently pays well enough, so you’ve been told.

With nothing else to do but wait, you return to the edge of the bed with your arms clutching your body tightly in a nervous embrace as you sit in anticipation. After a brief moment, your doctor does return. He’s not lugging a tray of food like last time, but rather a tall glass of something white.

The sight only frustrates you. White walls, a white gown, white everything. Your body is surrounded in the sterile color, in and out. It’s too much. The most color you really see anymore is from the clothes your friends wear. Perhaps it’s because they draw from the drollness of white in this place that Gale pushed for such variable colors.

“Here.” Yosuke offers you the cup. “This should be enough not to make you too full, but to keep you from getting too hungry later.”

You look down at the glass with contempt. “You take a sip from it first.”

Last time Yosuke was so insistent on having you drink something, it didn’t go well. Yosuke makes quick note of your caution, as he gives a subtle throated chuckle and brings the glass to his lips.

“Of course, but I don’t see the need for suspicion now when I could just as easily have slipped something into your food.”

You ignore this comment and watch your doctor closely as he sucks in a rather large swig of the beverage. He even bothers to show you his open mouth after the milk’s been swallowed, as if to challenge your wariness.

“No more games, dearest,” he warns while handing the glass to you. “Drink. I’ll help clean you up and get you back in your usual gown after. You’d like a warm shower, right? And fresh clothes?”

“Free of humiliation, yes,” you mutter. Truthfully, you’re quite eager to get out of this white thing after the horrible reaction to Yosuke’s words you had far earlier. “But I know that’s unrealistic to want.”

After expressing your distaste, you finally take in the milk. It’s sweet and creamy against your tongue and cheeks. Yosuke watches as you drink it down like he expects, even lifting a finger to the bottom of the cup to tip it further and ensure you drink it all.

“Good girl,” he praises again, petting your head once you finish. He then takes the glass and leaves it on the counter. You presume someone will come clean it later.

“I should groom you while I’m at it, hm? You could use a bit of that. We do stock a few razors here.”

These words come much to your embarrassment. You hardly give the man an answer other than “why?”

“Why what, Ten?” Yosuke raises a brow. He turns to one of the upper cabinets to find a tub full of miscellaneous tools, one of which is a small package of razors. He tears it open and plucks out two. “Why do I have to do it, or why do we keep the razors here?”

“Either.” You hold your torso, clutching each arm tightly. Yosuke tucks the two razors into his pants pocket and returns to you.

“The latter reason is rather unpleasant, so I suppose I should get it out of the way first. Some of us actually don’t want you having access to those things in your room,” he explains. “Razors and all. Given how low in mood and motivation some of our guests tend to get, they sometimes become desperate for an escape from the facility. You understand.”

Only then does it dawn on you that the blades could be ripped out of the entire tool. It doesn’t take much to make you get what Yosuke means, though you wind up looking up at him with a bit of shock in your eyes.

You’d ask why the prisoners can’t keep dangerous items in their rooms when it’s perfectly acceptable for them to have access to them in the recreational areas. Amber had taken her own life with what was there, after all. You suspect maybe it’s more personal in the rooms and that the doctors don’t much want to lose their assigned prisoners in these rooms. However, you also think that maybe Gale wants to examine the Numbers and others’ behavior.

Presuming you’re right about there not being cameras in the bedroom, then If a Number committed suicide in one of the rooms, Gale wouldn’t see it and be able to note what led up to that act or what emotions the victim was reflecting during their death. How terrible, though. They don’t stop the deaths. The practically encourage them unless they have reason to keep someone alive, like with you. You’re sure they’d probably attempt to justify such sacrifices to you if the topic ever came up.

What if their own Number threatened to take her life? Would Gale act then? They’d seemed so attached to Six in the feeds you saw in The Overseers room. Though you’re thankful for their support and will likely allow yourself to openly speak with them, you still can’t excuse anything they’ve done for the sake of their research. Or rather, for the sake of scratching their particular itch. It isn’t right.

“As for why I have to do it, it’s merely a matter of preference,” Yosuke goes on as if the former statement were hardly of issue. “I prefer you clean. Others don’t maintain their Numbers in the same way, but many do. Now, I’ll be fair to you, dear. I’ll allow you to groom some parts of yourself since you happen to be awake for it. Will that make you feel better? Give you a sense of independence?”

You find it difficult to just move on from talking about suicidal prisoners to personal grooming, but you make the effort to roll with it nonetheless. Though, you can’t help but wonder just when this change took place. Did it take one person dying, or several?

Your expression continues to reflect unease, but you keep focused nonetheless. “I’ll take what I can get, I guess.”

“I am being a bit lenient with you in that regard,” Yosuke notes rather insistently. “I don’t have to let you do anything. I’d very much like to take care of my pet. But I do want you to feel a little welcomed and have some leniency before we fully transition into our old ways. Now let’s go.”

Our ways? What on earth does he mean? These are his methods, not yours.

Yosuke trails his fingers along your cheek a bit while examining your blushing face, then bids you to reach up for him. Such a reductive request leaves you even more embarrassed, but you indulge the man and raise your arms up in offering, practically like a child. It’s beyond unsettling.

It’s almost as if Yosuke knows you’re not going to fight him too hard, so he’s taking advantage of it without question. Does he even know why you’re bothering to do what he says without much fuss? Does he suspect anything? As long as you play your cards right, he won’t.

Yosuke gives a warm smile seeing you hesitantly reach up for him, but does bend down a little so that he can scoop you up in his arms again. Like before, you cling to his neck and lean against his chest and shoulder.

Going from being abused to coddled is too drastic a transition for you. This is definitely much better by comparison if you only have to put up with it now and then for the sake of freely enjoying your time with your family. But you can’t help but want to complain all the while. All this is so very familiar, and you hate the reminder. The unfortunate thing is that you can’t afford to complain quite as much as you used to. Yosuke is your job now, as much as he is your tormentor.

Shaving in front of him is going to be awkward as hell. Your legs and arms are doable, but it’s between your legs you’re most worried about. No doubt he’ll want to clean that of hair as well. But you can do no more than allow the man to lead you next into the showers across the hall and await his next move.

Entering the area only brings more unpleasant memories of all your visits and all moments of care afterward—provided you can really call it care. You hate remembering the sensation of waking up groggily in these showers with water pouring atop your body, only for your doctor to be so handsy with you and tease you incessantly.

The first time you woke up here, you remember feeling so out of it and broken. Yosuke’s use of you then was fairly light compared to all the later visits he had with you, but it was rattling enough since that visit was your first and most horrifying. You’d not accepted what fate this place had for you then. Even now you still want to fight, but you can only do so amidst strategic surrenders.

Are you stronger or weaker than you once were? Stronger in that you’ve endured more and learned to deal with worse things, certainly. You feel like the answer is so clear, yet there have always been moments that cause you to doubt yourself. Is that humility, or Is it foolish misjudgment?

No, you do have strength. You carried yourself through that nightmare of a confinement, through all the abuse dished out by the men watching you. Being stoic doesn’t make you strong, nor does crying and babbling make you weak. Even someone as frail as Three has strength enough if she’s managed to make it through this place this long. She has her dependencies, but she’s holding on. From what you can recall of your last visit with Nathaniel and how he referred to his Number, you know that she’s used the stage and the roles she plays as a method of coping. Certainly, it’s a better coping method than simply being attached to her brother, but you can’t much change that. She’ll have to part from him on her own. But even when she isn’t with him, she can be independent. She just hardly lets that side of herself show because the other side is far too strong at times.

“You need to undress, you know.”

You blink as you realize Yosuke’s put you down already. Your mind had been so focused that your body was an autopilot as Yosuke stood you on the tiled, white shower floor. You look up at your doctor with a bit of a pout, but you can see by the unamused expression on his face that he’s quite serious. Not bothering to protest, you start to undress, and naturally your doctor watches intently as you bare your naked body to him.

He motions for you to hand your clothes to him, which you do. He hangs them atop the door by a clean white towel, then turns back to you and turns the showerhead on. The water is cold at first, so you recoil the moment drops of it hit at your legs and arms. Only once the water’s warmed up do you stand beneath the thing.

“You remember how to bathe, don’t you?” Yosuke asks in an almost teasing voice. How cruel that he still manages to find the strength to be this way even with how exhausted he is. You’re sure he hasn’t yet slept, unlike you.

“Yes,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly while proceeding to wet your hair and wash it with one of the shampoos bitterly, before Yosuke can attempt to do it for you. He merely watches with a calm smile on his face as you bathe before him. You gently wash your face and skin, and even your lower body. You hardly want your doctor to say you missed a spot and try moving in to wash you himself, after all. So, for as much as it makes you feel awkward, you try to be thorough.

Eventually, you’re done with the cleaning and opt to move aside from the stream of water pouring down. Yosuke then moves onto the next unpleasant thing. He takes out one of the razors from his pocket and holds it to you between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you know how to do this too?” He asks.

“I can figure it out,” you grumble a quick answer. As you pluck the thing from his fingers, Yosuke reaches over to turn the showerhead down just a little so that the blast of water ebbs to a mere trickle. Once done, he then reaches over to the many bottles in the shower and takes one with a small white pump at the top. He beckons you to outstretch your arm, and when you do, he pushes the top and lets a strange gel expel from it. With this, he rubs the gel into your softened, wet skin, and you watch with surprise as it turns into a sort of white foam on your arms. Certainly not a thick film of it, but enough to cover the flesh.

“Do it slowly, dear,” Yosuke instructs you, motioning upward on his own arm while mimicking the grip of the razor to give you a visual example. “If you go too fast or move too much you might cut your delicate flesh. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You grumble at the unnecessary mention of your skin and do as told. You uncap the razor’s plastic cover and slowly glide it along your arm, going little by little and rinsing off after every stroke. You find yourself disgusted thinking about your doctor doing this to your unconscious body. How often had he done it, you wonder? No—it’s better you don’t think about it. That’ll only make the unpleasant thought worse.

Soon, you manage to finish up with your hands, arms, and armpits. Again, Yosuke pumps more gel out, onto your legs this time. You give an unpleasant gulp at the sensation of his warm hands gliding up and down your calves and thighs. He chuckles a bit at your nervous reaction, but makes no other moves. However, he does lift your leg straight out to help you reach your ankles easier. You almost stumble at the sudden shift, but find it easy to balance on your other leg.

“You’re quite flexible,” Yosuke notes as you attempt to shave the long limb before him. No doubt he’s eyeing your breasts as you lean over, but you try not to think too hard about it and keep your eyes squarely focused on the skin of your ankles and calves. Your ears burn with embarrassment all the while. Though, admittedly, it does feel good to clean yourself up. That’s probably the only good thing that can be said about your current situation.

“I guess,” you grumble awkwardly in between strokes and rinses of the razor. “I never really paid attention.”

“Doesn’t it hurt to be in this position?”

“No.” You suppose stretching earlier helped a little with that.

You soon switch legs, the change in position not much helping the awkwardness of this situation. But, luckily, you’re nearly done with this embarrassing ordeal. You remain quiet this time as you shave your other leg. Once you finish, and Yosuke puts your leg down, he rubs his hand along the flesh you shaved to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

You figured you’ve done this before, since it wasn’t hard to figure out where to go. Like putting your hair up, it’s practically second nature. Evidently you don’t know or remember how to do a lot of things, but self-care is probably a common practice for most people, so you don’t doubt that you’ve done it many times before. The only way you wouldn’t have is if you were practically a child with no experience in it.

Yosuke suddenly grabs hold of your chin and spreads a small bit of gel on your cheeks and around your lips, then rubs it in with the fingers on his other hand. You wind up dropping the first razor in your surprise at the act.

“What are you doing?!” You demand. Yosuke merely smiles. He rinses off his fingers, then brings out the second razor with the same hand. He uncaps it with his teeth, then proceeds to start shaving your face, making slow, careful strokes. Yosuke spits out the razor’s cover and answers you only after he’s started to shave you.

“There aren’t any mirrors in here,” he remarks, “so I have to do this much for you. Most everyone has a little fuzz or even a few stray hairs on their face, and I’d like to clean that off. I prefer my dear pet to have such smooth, pretty skin to touch.”

You shift your eyes away and clutch at your doctor’s shirt as his body stays rather close to yours. His grip on your chin hardly loosens as he carefully shaves your cheeks, upper lip, and chin of such insignificant hairs that apparently bother him. No more words escape your lips as the uncomfortable act is carried out. Yosuke’s olive eyes remain fixated on your flesh, though you can tell that he occasionally looks upon your own discomforted, drifting stare as well.

The awkward ordeal soon ends, though you know there’s one more remaining. Naturally, he opts to take care of this too.

“Spread your legs, darling,” you’re gently urged. Yosuke drops your chin, but kneels on one knee before you next. As he rinses off the razor, he again gives the order. “We’re not leaving until this is done, you know. Let’s get it over with.”

“I-I could do it myself,” you stammer awkwardly, shutting your legs tightly as Yosuke’s face hovers so closely to your crotch.

“No,” he refuses you. “It’s best I help you with this part. You can easily hurt yourself doing this. But I’ll help you. Now do spread your legs as I told you. It wasn’t so hard for you to do it in your examination room, was it?”

“Yes it was!” You hiss, your face beet red by now. Yosuke merely chuckles and rubs a hand gently up and down your outer thigh.

“No fighting, now,” he gives a slight warning. “Open up. It’ll go quicker if you cooperate. Lean against the wall if you like.”

Knowing it’s pointless, you huff a bit of breath through your nose in frustration, then spread your legs apart enough for your doctor to move in with the razor without hurting you.

To say that it’s embarrassing is an understatement. This is torturous. But you suppose Yosuke is right that it’ll be over sooner if you cooperate, so you do. All the while he slowly and gently lathers your outer folds with the shaving gel, you ball your fists and press your back hard against the wall. You turn your head away and avoid looking down at all costs, but do find that the brushing of Yosuke’s flesh and the gliding of the razor do tickle at your skin down there.

“Luckily, it hasn’t grown so drastically that I need to trim it first,” Yosuke notes as he shaves you. He says all this so casually. Were it something you discussed with anyone else, maybe you could speak of it just as easily. But with him, it’s too personal. He’s using this opportunity of grooming you to make eye candy out of you, and to relish in the chance to care for you again. It’s all routine. You don’t like the idea of the man doing this at all, you again wish dearly that you were at least unconscious for it like you apparently always were before.

The shaving stops after a while as Yosuke assesses his work.

“Mm, that’ll do,” he comments to himself, then lowers the razor to the floor. He looks up at you then, watching you from behind his square frames. “Dear, we’re all done. You’re looking better already.”

“Can we go now?” You mutter with an unshaken embarrassment. Yosuke gives a weak laugh.

“Yes, of course,” he permits this. Your doctor pushes off the floor and again stands. You half-expected it to be this that led to his fucking of you, but now you suppose he’s going to take you back to your room to do so. He can’t convince you that this isn’t what he intended from the beginning since he woke you.

With everything over, Yosuke reaches his arm up and extends his palm to you in offering.

“Let’s go,” he gently invites you, though you know this is more of an order. “We’ll get you dressed and ready for bed. Since I woke you so suddenly from your nap, I’m sure you’re still a little tired.”

“I suppose.” This is true enough. The energy you got from moving your body and having time to yourself shirked the moment Yosuke stepped in again. Though, putting tonight’s embarrassments behind you is quite preferrable. And really, going through to the next day and making your temporary confinement end sooner would give you something to look forward to. The sooner you can see your family, the better off you’ll be.

You’re toweled off by your doctor, your head getting a bit dizzy when he rubs the fabric against it between his hands dry your hair and scalp. Otherwise, the process is straightforward, and unfortunately quite like you remember it. The sensations are all familiar and commonplace.

As always, you head to the entrance of the shower and notice a neatly folded gown and fresh set of underwear that you had neglected to catch when entering, since you’d been focused on your thoughts. Instinctively, you dress in both, the familiar rose color of the gown settling on and around your body. Honestly, for as little as you like being back here, you’d rather be in rose than white.

When you’re ready, your doctor ferries you back to your room. Again, he sets you down on the bed and moves the comforter over your legs. You simply sit with your back against the pillow there in anticipation for what Yosuke has in store for you.

Oddly, he makes no real moves toward you, nor does he slyly attempt to coax you into a conversation leading into sex. He hardly even teases you about the shaving ordeal or the exam. Instead, he mindlessly stands by your desk and thumbs through the papers in the pad there. You suppose he saw your art of the Numbers. Whether he closed the pad because he didn’t want to see the picture, or simply because he felt like keeping things orderly is beyond you. Either option is believable, knowing him.

Yosuke seems to resent the close attachment you have to the others, something that’s persisted even after all the horrors faced during your confinement. If anything, your love of everyone has only strengthened, while your dependence on them alone has slightly withdrawn. You still want to rely on them, you just know now how important it is to rely on yourself just as well.

You wonder whether Violet told the others about seeing you, and whether they believed her. Since they’ve yet to even see you return, it’s possible they might dismiss Violet’s words. Whoever she did tell, you can’t much imagine what they might be thinking. Granted, you’re not expecting some joyous, tearful reunion. The other Numbers will undoubtedly be happy to see you and appropriately want to catch you up with what’s happened since you left, but you figure it’ll be easy to slip casually back into things with most everyone except perhaps the two you’ve gotten rather involved with. It’s a little more personal with them, so you imagine they must have hurt much more.

“Did it really take you that long to draw?” Yosuke chuckles. By now, he’s opened the pad up again and is running his fingers along the surface of the page you drew each Number on. “I expected more than just one image. Typically, people mess around and scribble randomly in these things when they’ve no one goal in mind.”

“I’m hardly an artist,” you mutter. “Or much of anything, really.”

Yosuke glances up at you for just a moment, almost frowning as he does so.

“Does that bother you?”

“A little,” you admit, shifting your eyes down mindlessly at the comforter now over your legs. The fabric glides smoothly against your freshly shaven flesh, you admit. “I feel leagues behind the others who have talent. But I can at least appreciate the things they do.”

You scowl as the next set of words escapes your lips. “Even you have an impeccable talent for the piano. Somehow even awful people get to be good at things.”

Yosuke takes little offense to your comment. He seems distracted by something else and is mindlessly trailing his finger along your desk’s metallic surface.

“Yes, it’s like that sometimes,” he says, not at all refuting or shaken by your accusation of him being an awful person. “But I’m sure there are things you were good at once. I wager the drug you were injected with took that away. It’s supposedly happened before. But I’m sure you know how little I’m involved with certain affairs given how new I am compared to others, and given my role aboveground.”

You want to bring up what you found out about Mnemosyne, but know you shouldn’t. Even if The Overseer might not be listening to anything in this room because there are no cameras or microphones here, you won’t chance it right now. There are things you could probably push, but that’s not one of them. Granted, Yosuke probably knows better than to blab about things to others.

“Have you not tried to get good at anything we offer you at this facility, dear?” Yosuke’s voice again brings you back to attention. You shake your head.

“I guess it’s not hard for me to do some things, but I’m by no means good at them.”

You then pause and bite your lip as another question begins to surface in your head.

“You really can’t tell me who I was before all this?”

“Hm?” Yosuke genuinely seems taken aback by such a sudden question. His dark brow raises slightly. “Why ask? You know well the answer to that question, my pet.”

“I know we discussed this once before, but I just want to know.” Your heart sinks thinking upon it. “Did I have a purpose out there? Was I good at anything? Or was I really that much of a nobody? I feel so useless in this place sometimes. I already don’t remember a lot of basic things like math or science. Things I probably learned once. I feel stupid. The way you treat me so childishly hardly helps. Even now you still seem just the same as before.”

Yosuke smiles to himself a moment as he thinks of something private. Again, he doesn’t much seem phased by your words. You’re bitterly expressing that you find fault in the doctors for robbing you of your memory, only without explicitly saying it. But of course, your doctor has always been able to dodge your crude remarks. Only earlier today did he really get upset enough to speak sternly with you. But after your first encounter since you came back, Yosuke returned to his old self quite quickly. You can’t imagine just what he thought upon after leaving your room.

“Ten, you needn’t worry about all that anyway,” your doctor reminds you gently. He drops his hand from the desk and finally steps toward you. “You’re who you are now. Even if this version of you is far less knowledgeable about many things, you’re still loved and cherished. Wanted. That’s something even those with distinguished skills may sometimes lack. Now, I’ve said this many times, but you’d have fewer problems if you just accepted things. You’d get to live quite comfortably here if you just cooperated. You’d be happy. I do want you happy.”

“You want me to be yours,” you grumble with a corrective intent. “A puppet. I know well what it is you want and what you’re willing to do to get it. I don’t want to give it to you. There’s only so much I’ll allow.”

Yosuke merely runs a hand along your cheek sweetly. “Well, do keep up that big girl routine all you like. But other than a few minor setbacks, you were a very good girl for me tonight, Ten. I was quite taken by the quiet cooperation. I do prefer you that way—flustered, shy, submissive. It’s a beautiful look for you.”

You try not to let on that there’s a reason for your sudden shift in attitude. You have a pretty valid excuse to use that hides the real one, at least.

“I only acted that way because of your boss,” you note. “I had to become docile and submissive for him. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be that way with you all the time. It’s just a habit at this point. But I can break it anytime. He’s the only one I have to be completely quiet for.”

“I’ve said your fighting me isn’t much bothersome,” Yosuke reminds you. “To an extent, anyway. You know well what does bother me, dear. But for the most part, your pointless resistance is quite cute. I missed our little games.”

He chuckles softly and playfully shakes your head by the chin.

“That said, pet, you’ll do well to stay by me, won’t you?”

Your cheeks redden at the proximity and touch of your doctor, though you remain grumbling. “Like I have a choice.”

“Then allow me to make another decision on my own. I’ll be sleeping here tonight. With you.”

Instinctively, your eyes look upon your doctor, but before you can protest, he speaks up again.

“I won’t hear any word about it, Ten. I could use a bit of rest, and I’d like to take advantage of the opportunity I have to spend a little time with you. I’ll rest much easier now, knowing you’re here and safe. But don’t fuss about your sense of independence, pet. Tomorrow you’ll be on your own again, I promise.”

“…And tomorrow night?” You question without batting an eye despite the genuine upset that’s stirring in your heart right now. You want sorely to rest on your own, but you figured Yosuke would pull something.

Your doctor merely eyes you with his olive gaze, but continues to smile.

“We’ll see how things go. Let’s focus on the now, shall we?”

You remain wary, and your fists bunch up a chunk of the bedsheets. “Is sleep all you want to do?”

Yosuke swipes a thumb sweetly over your lips as he watches your bothered expression.

“Oh my dear, of course not,” he coos. “Being so close to you again, doing what I did—I must admit I found it enthralling. But I’m too tired for playtime tonight. Even I have my limits. I wasn’t lying when I said I need a moment to adjust back to this all. I simply will to move far faster than you prefer. I have more experience in that than you do.”

“Do you do anything to me when I’m asleep?” You demand, remaining focused on your distaste at the emerged idea. Yosuke shakes his head.

“There have only been a few slip-ups as you well know. But even I can restrain myself at times. Unlike you. I saw those held-back reactions of yours. Even after all this time you still do love the attention. How precious.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you spit back. But before you can let yourself bark back too much, you quell your anger before the man and merely remain docile. “I’ve been without much warmth. Without much touch other than aggressive ones. It’s weird to deal with this all again.”

Yosuke drops his hand and places it on your shoulder, watching your avoidant gaze with a tender one of his own.

“I’ll accustom you to it soon,” he promises. The phrase escaping his lips only unsettles you, but it’s not like you can much avoid any of this anyway. You’ll accept that much. All you can do is be ready for the things you’ll endure by anyone’s hand, not just Yosuke’s. But it’s the intimacy that’s most worrisome—you recall thinking once before that it’d be so much easier if it were anyone else. It’d be impersonal and thus easy to get through. It’s because Yosuke’s so insistent on being close to you and tender in some ways that you always buckle beneath him. Yelling back at Micah or getting through a rough session with Sven isn’t much a problem beyond it just being humiliating. But Yosuke is too much.

Maybe you’re just sensitive. Like Cyrus, you have a big heart that’s easy to twist up. Though sensitive isn’t entirely how you’d describe him only. He’s a little more grounded than you in that regard. Were you as cold as Eight once was, or perhaps even as cold as The Overseer, maybe you wouldn’t suffer so much being fawned over this way by someone who’s so intent on making you theirs. But you couldn’t imagine letting yourself become such an emotionless husk. The Overseer had seemed to want to drive you toward that state. For what reason escapes you.

The sudden sight of Yosuke moving to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt then grabs your attention. He moves slowly, and you slightly recoil in anticipation for the worst. Yosuke pauses mid-button and looks over at you with a smile.

“Relax, pet,” he says. “I told you I’m not doing anything tonight. I would like to be comfortable, though.”

“But you’ve slept with your clothes on before!” you remind him forwardly. You’d rather not be so intimate with him so soon, but of course Yosuke mentioned the want to move faster than you.

Your doctor again continues not to bat an eye to your outbursts. It’s weird to speak out so freely like this, but you’re not having a hard time adjusting to it. The Overseer did say you could act this way with others, so long as you continue to be obedient to him and Lucius.

Yosuke pops open his shirt, revealing a grey undershirt. The sight of it only shakes you somewhat as the memory of the worker you met undressing emerges in your mind, even when you try not to let it. You start to look up at your doctor’s face nervously as you wonder whether he’d become a worker upon further screw-ups. The Overseer plays favorites with those he’s held close to his operation. Others, you’re not sure. He might find Yosuke of some use, though. But if he decides that your doctor is no longer valuable, then—

“I usually don’t wear these here,” your doctor notes as he adjusts the hem of his undershirt and tugs it down a bit. “Leaving some clothes behind makes it faster to undress and get to what we’re here for. But I started wearing them again the more time I spent upstairs. I didn’t see a need to be prepared.”

After dropping his blue shirt and grey tie on the floor, he moves to undo the top of his pants. You quickly call out in protest.

“C-could you leave those on?”

“You’re going to see more of me in the future, Ten,” Yosuke gives a light warning. “You should accustom yourself to the sight of my undress again. You did spend all that time nude, after all.”

“I had no choice in that.”

“And you have no choice in this. Don’t fuss so much. We know each other’s bodies well by now. It shouldn’t be so strange.”

He proceeds to kick off his shoes and undress his lower body, leaving only his boxers. Yosuke saves his glasses for last, but leaves them on for the moment. He gestures for you to move aside on the bed and make room for him, a quiet request you begrudge, but follow.

Yosuke slides his seated frame under the comforter, and only once he’s beside you does he slowly remove his glasses and place them atop his bunched-up clothes on the floor. When he’s done, he turns his head to you and outstretches one of his arms whilst turning himself toward you a bit.

“In my arms, dear,” he beckons you sweetly with a smile upon his lips. “I want us both to get accustomed to this warmth again. I’m sure you’ve been craving it.”

“Not your warmth,” you persist in your biting commentary, despite the dreary mumbling you give off. Yosuke merely gives a chuckle and takes hold of you anyway, forcing your body to slide down on the bed and against him. Yosuke hugs you close and tightly, pressing your body firmly against his and rolling his head between yours and your shoulder.

“But it’s my warmth you’ll have most often, darling,” he murmurs. “And I won’t be letting up on it anytime soon now that you might get hurt. I need to be here to comfort you.”

The vibrations of his voice and the heat of his breath hitting against your nape and ear only sends a shiver down your spine, one strong enough to make you instinctively give a light gasp in response. Your bent arms remain between both your bodies, and so you curl your fingers around the thin fabric of your doctor’s undershirt out of instinct.

“I find it hard to accept that knowing that you’re also all too willing to punish me for things you think are faults,” You persist, though your voice remains low this time. “If I have to lend myself to you, so be it. But you get upset over things that aren’t even a big deal, especially when it comes to the others. You seem…”

Yosuke chuckles a bit as your words hesitantly trail off. “Jealous? What a ridiculous thing to say.”

He hugs your body tighter, then. “They’re no threat to me. I’m the one in charge of you, dear. Even if you want to fool around with others, you will always return to me without choice. Without question.”

Your face scrunches up slightly into a bothered scowl. “So you acknowledge my feelings, then.”

“I simply know you, Ten. But you know me as well. We shouldn’t have to do dance back and forth with it so often.”

Yosuke then pulls himself away slightly and looks upon your face, still while sporting a gentle smile. “But even when it frustrates me, I do love watching you dance. In a way, I always have.”

Your lips part as if to speak, but you don’t know what to say in response. Both you and your doctor’s eyes remain locked a moment, but it’s Yosuke who makes his move and brings himself closer to you, his lips crashing on to yours. He brings one hand up to your head to hold it steady as he takes you warmly.

His kisses are as soft as you remember when he’s been this way with you. The warmth of his flesh against yours, the constant pecking and soft sucking of your lips only leaves you dizzy. The sensation is unfortunately so direly welcome after all the time you spent away in the cold dark. You hate admitting it, but this feels good. At the very least, if Yosuke makes it feel good, it won’t be so hard to deal with him. But you have to do your part too.

Your doctor’s jealous tendencies can’t really be ignored. You know that if he gets upset enough, he’ll act out against you. He can’t bear to see you fall for anyone but him. But as long as you don’t make your love of Cyrus and Lav explicit around him, he may be able to ignore it or look the other way. But the scariest thing about this all is that he’ll probably hide his attachment as best he can the way Jade’s doctor did. He already had his fun once. You don’t think he’s entirely like Mom where he’ll purposefully do something without reason. Even when he did what he did that night, Yosuke made sure to do it knowing that he wouldn’t get caught for a while.

Richard never acted out, and so it was hard for The Overseer to catch wind of anything that went on. You’re sure Yosuke will lean into the same behavior. But at the same time, you’re equally sure The Overseer and Lucius anticipate behavior like that in doctors like Yosuke. Now that the man knows what his once-trusted associate is capable of and how he really is, you doubt The Overseer will take things lightly with him.

Yosuke eventually pulls away from your lips and lowers his hand back along your upper back. He smiles warmly at your blushing face.

“I’m glad you’re still so responsive,” he comments with a gentle tone. “You do indeed still crave such warmth. I want to be the source of it from now on.”

“And if I do something you don’t like?” You breathily focus your question in an attempt to move on from the flustered sensations your doctor’s just aroused. But your deepened breaths aren’t exactly easy to hide from Yosuke.

“I will still be firm with you, dear,” is the response you’re given. “I’ll try not to be too hard on you. I have been lenient at times, after all. But you do understand my position, and yours. If you just cooperate, you won’t have to worry about so many punishments. The fact that you are bringing it up only tells me you want to know how tight of a leash I’ll keep on you. You want to gauge just what you can get away with.”

“I guess I’m persistent,” you respond without batting an eye to your doctor’s comments, nor denying them. “I’m not the same I was when I first came here, Yosuke. Though yes, you can read me well even now. But if you would just treat me like a person and not a doll you can toy with-”

“I do treat you like a person, Ten,” Yosuke interrupts with a light frown. “I could do much worse. All I want of you is to stay by my side and put up with me. I will still feed and bathe and care for you. I will still talk to you as a person. All you have to put up with is accepting it.”

He’s so goddamn dense. No, more like he’s just persistent. He doesn’t want to hear your complaints about how he treats you any more than someone like Mom wants to hear about her personal faults. He’s not asking you to submit anymore. He’s ordering you to without saying it outright.

Would just accepting things to let it go through faster be the best bet? What if you do fall for Yosuke because you force yourself to believe in what he’s doing just so that you can give both him and The Overseer what they want? You worry that maybe you’ll end up like Blue—just allowing things enough to where you’re convinced that you enjoy it. You can’t imagine how long it took for her to go from the girl in the video feed to who she is now. She recognizes her position and her handling of things, and accepts it so casually.

There’s not much a choice in this, though. You have to give in in some moments. You have to be the one to keep your doctor even-tempered and stable. To think you’re being degraded to such a role…

“Fine,” you grumble in defeat. “I’ll try. Don’t expect much out of me, though. Anyway, right now I just wanna sleep. So can we just get it over with?”

You look up at Yosuke and soften your expression, instead giving him pleading eyes. Obediently, you wrap your arms up around his neck and hold onto him. Your hand wavers and shakes in hesitation before you place it upon his back, but you do eventually push yourself to follow through.

“Please?” You beg girlishly.

Yosuke’s lips turn once more into a soft smile, and he gives you another sweet, quick kiss before pulling away again. He strokes your hair afterward, making long, gentle strides along the back of your head. Poking through all the exhaustion in his olive eyes, you now see a tinge of pleasure and content. His unframed face is fairly gentle and honest, not at all like the more unsettling faces you remember him having. His gaze seems far more sweet this time. And, undoubtedly, the glimpse of your submission that he’s only truly seen with you under the influence of Red Valentine has only tendered his twisted heart.

“Good girl.”

---

It winds up taking a while to really fall asleep after the ordeal with your doctor. As you slowly come back into consciousness later, you recall having laid there awkwardly against his chest with an acute awareness of his hold and focus on you. You’d even waited for him to fall asleep first so that you could turn away from him. But even when Yosuke finally succumbed to his exhaustion, he instinctively snuggled close against you. And upon turning your body away, he’d wrapped his arms around it and kept you close.
The position was hardly comfortable after what Lucius did. In that moment, you could think of nothing else but his initial use of you and how he’d crawled behind you in much the same way. This discomfort eventually faded when you accepted that Yosuke was unconscious and that he was doing nothing but placing his hands on you. In the end, you wound up passing out with his sleeping breaths on your neck, and his lower body pressed against your backside. One of his arms remained wrapped around your waist, and the other had been outstretched under your pillow.

You don’t think you’ve ever really fallen asleep with someone in your bed before. Certainly not like that, either. Usually when Yosuke has pulled this kind of thing, it’s been when you were already knocked out with drugs. Despite the uncomfortable knowledge that you slept by your doctor’s side, you admit that simply being held felt nice. Again, you think about how much enjoyment you’d get out of this kind of thing if only it were anyone but Yosuke. The only real way you got yourself to relax after a while was pretending that you were being held by Lav or Cyrus.

When your eyes eventually flutter open and the light of the room again intrudes upon your vision, you find that you’re lying on your side. The bed is empty aside from you, something you’re quite aware of as the warmth behind you no longer lingers on your backside. You half-wonder whether Yosuke touched you further at all while you slept knowing how excited just being able to see your body again made him. But if he did, you certainly can’t tell. You’d have woken up if he made any drastic moves anyway.

You discover yet another tray of food on your desk when your eyes flicker that way. Lots of fruit chunks and slices, and an omelette dish speckled with different kinds of finely chopped vegetables from what you can see. There’s even a glass of milk , a few bottles of water that you and what you think is orange juice going by the pale orange color. You figure it’s a freshly squeezed glass, not one premade. Though, something about the color of the liquid only makes you think of Jay again. Your mood dips a little at the reminder.

Upon leaning to the side to peek over the edge of the bed, you discover that Yosuke’s clothes have been cleaned off the floor. Before you can really ask yourself whether he’s left, your bathroom door opens, and from it emerges your doctor, straightening his tie.

You sit back up and look over to him, not much surprised by his entrance. When you shift your eyes toward his and focus on his face, it becomes clear to see that his exhaustion has all but slipped away. There’s still a lingering patch of grey on his lower lids, but it’s nearly faded now. He walks forward with a less trudging step, and his smile…

Your heart jumps when his eyes lock onto yours as well. His smiling lips are sealed for only a moment, but he doesn’t waste much time speaking to you.

“Good morning, Ten,” Yosuke greets kindly. “It seems you slept well. I’m glad.”

“By the looks of it, so did you,” you remark in turn. Yosuke nods before making his way to the desk and twisting your chair around, silently insistent that that you can come sit in it.

“I feel much better,” he says, watching you with a calm smile. “Your warmth gave me a little more strength. Now do come eat something. I have to go upstairs as soon as possible to finish smoothing out my affairs.”

“You sure adjust quick,” you huff while still obeying your doctor’s request. You pull your comforter off and move to stand, then head to the desk and take your seat politely upon your chair. When you’re wheeled forward to the desk again, you don’t hesitate to pick up your fork and start eating, though you do glug half a bottle of water first. Fruit sounds refreshing right now after just waking up, so you don’t waste time at pecking a few slices of apple and chunks of strawberry that are neatly arranged on a plate to the side.

“I said I would move a little faster than you, but that it’d still take time for me to adjust,” Your doctor remarks as he watches you eat. “I don’t have much choice in that anyway. I’d intended to keep you a third day, but I was informed again by Lucius not to waste that much time. So…”

You pause your eating and widen your eyes. Your heart skips a beat for just a moment in your eagerness.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Yosuke answers plainly, though there’s a slight disappointed tone in his voice. “But we still have tonight, dear.”

The hopeful response in your heart lessens as your doctor utters these words. You continue to eat, though wince a bit at the touch of Yosuke’s hand as it gently strokes the top of your head.

“You seem unhappy to know that we’re going to continue as we had been,” he chuckles. “Oh, pet. Like I said, I will still be your doctor. I’ll take care of you and I’ll still be here if you need me.”

“Don’t forget the others still get to see me,” you remind him sharply after a bite of the rather flavorful omelette. “I can’t be yours all the time.”

Yosuke’s hand pauses, then drops from your head. Your mention of “others” was more in reference to the doctors, but he’s reacted as if he knows you also mean the Numbers.

“Mm, I’m aware, and I don’t much care for it despite knowing there’s nothing to be done,” he answers you. “But when you’re here, you are mine alone. So behave like you did last night and I’ll have little need to be so stern with you, Ten.”

You figure acting so sweet with him when you’re pushed to simply works in both your favors. Yosuke gets what he wants out of you while presuming, for now, that you’re merely giving in because you’re tired of fighting. Even if he’s aware your act is fake, he can probably find some satisfaction in the idea of control. As for you, acting this way only helps serve The Overseer’s expectation of your role. You hate being ordered around, and you hate the idea of fulfilling his requirements in such a gross way.

But so be it.

You’ll still bark back when you can afford to, but you would like to avoid any more unnecessary punishments. Unless Yosuke decides to be a little hard on your body just because he’s that aroused and in the mood for a sterner touch, you think he’ll be agreeable otherwise. Perhaps a bit lusty if anything, but you’ve dealt with his far hornier moods before. He was quite forward the first few visits you had with him.

On the surface, it shouldn’t be a problem. No, it’s his emotional investment in you and the words he uses to fuck with your head and your emotions that make it so rough. But if you do cooperate with him at least sometimes, maybe it won’t be as bad. Last night ended far quicker when you gave in, after all.

Once you’ve finished your breakfast, Yosuke finally opts to leave you alone as promised. He merely plucks your now-empty tray and glasses to take away. Before he heads out, he requests one thing,

“Give me a kiss goodbye, dear.”

You look up dumbfounded at the man’s persistence, but figure he’s just testing how much you’ll put up with. Begrudgingly, and with a huff of breath, you stand up and tilt your head toward Yosuke’s. You use the front pads of your feet to lift your body and reach your doctor’s lips. Not caring to linger long, you merely give the man a sweet peck. Once you withdraw, Yosuke gives a chuckle, and gently massages your scalp with the fingers of his free hand before taking off.

When Yosuke has gone, you scowl and mutter “asshole” under your breath, but eventually do settle down again and give a long sigh.

You wonder whether The Overseer saw Yosuke ferrying you around last night. If not him, then perhaps either Lucius or Gale. What might they have thought? Were they watching you closely to make sure neither of you did anything stupid? You honestly question whether either man or Gale has that much time to devote to being so hawkish towards you when there are plenty more places in the facility that require more attention.

All things considered, you’re still taken aback that Yosuke restrained himself last night. He seemed a little too eager to toy with you, even if his reactions weren’t bombastic and obvious. But now that he seems like he’s doing far better after just one night with you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’ll try something tonight.

Your hand instinctively presses on the fabric over your lower abdomen. As always, nothing new has surfaced, but you wonder just how long you have before you do end up pregnant. The Overseer may still intend to lie to Yosuke about how it’s his. Your doctor’s good at telling when people are being dishonest with him, but you’re sure The Overseer can surpass that since he’s always been so stoic and hard to read.

The only people who really see through his many facades are few—Gale, who has a refined skill at reading people, a skill that goes far beyond Yosuke’s; Lucius, who knows his boss well; lastly, the two actors who seemed to know that The Overseer’s façade of normal, light behavior was a poor act. Or at least, it was Nathaniel who caught on quickly. But you figure the latter two men don’t really know how to read The Overseer genuinely, only enough to know when he’s faking and pretending to be something he’s not.

Not once could you ever picture The Overseer with a smile. The one time he let his guard down, you’d heard him laugh. But the juxtaposition of his face’s sterner image and the somewhat lighthearted laugh he gave was too jarring and inconsistent for you to fully accept it.

Though, the more you think on it, the more you come to realize that he’d grown subtly more expressive with you, if in his own way. He’d bothered to speak to you a bit more after a while. You still can’t fathom why he allowed so much after his last true threat to kill. He’d said you weren’t special. Maybe that was a lie, but you’d hardly find the role of “special” gratifying in a place like this.

Why, though? What’s important about you? Or is this really all just coincidence?

Your eyes shift to the ceiling, and again you ponder on the existence of cameras. Now that you have a lot of time to yourself, you might give searching your room closely a try. If The Overseer is watching you and decides this behavior is unruly, you’re sure he’ll give a warning. But you only want to do this once anyway.

At first, you stupidly think about using the chair to hoist yourself up since it’s the most mobile thing in the room and still has locking mechanisms on its wheels. But the moment you try to stand upon it on the corner, the mechanism fails with too much pressure placed upon it, and you nearly come crashing down on top of your desk. Luckily, you save yourself by gripping the flat surface. The chair rolls against your bed, leaving your body at a slight angle. After noting a lack of damage to yourself, you try to stick a foot out toward the floor and step onto it, only following with your other foot once you assess your situation as safe.

Unable to use your chair alone, you decide to try pulling your desk around. You clear the thing of its surface materials which are instead placed on the bed. Climbing atop it yields significantly more positive results, though you wind up having to be careful not to wobble the desk about too much so as not to lose your balance. Though, all things considered, you’re managing that much quite well.

Standing on the metal object only gives you a good few feet of height. You can’t quite reach the ceiling, but you are a few heads away from it. It’s certainly enough for you to reach up and run your fingers along the creases where the ceiling meets the walls.

You squint hard at each area of the ceiling, and your method of carrying this task out requires a constant stepping down from and shifting of the desk along each wall. Since the position of your bed being plum against the middle of back wall leaves plenty of space around it, it’s not that hard to move your desk about. Though, it’s a lot heavier than you thought it’d be, and the struggle to continually drag it around only reminds you how weak you’ve gotten during your confinement. For as little as you like remembering the visit, Yosuke made shoving the desk aside all that time ago look easy.

As you pause to hunch over the things metallic surface and catch your breath, you do find it odd how much your doctor’s treatment of you has changed. In ways, it is much the same, but you recall him being more forward about fucking you and more willing to hurt you to make sure you cooperate than he is now. He still punishes you for behaviors he dislikes, but he also hovers over you all the same. He’s been more lovey-dovey than he once was. The time he’s spent with you has let such an emotional attachment emerge. You almost gave into it once.

Things have changed to a point that Yosuke wants you by his side equally as a plaything and as a woman who will give him emotional support. But his “love” for you is twisted. Someone like Cyrus or Lav respect you enough to allow your own decisions to be made. They love you as a person, and they respect you as a person. Yosuke, on the other hand, wants to control you and make you do just what he wants. He wants you to be a myriad of things—a babyish playtoy, a frail girl for him to care for, and perhaps even a mother or a housewife the way he’s spoken to you about such concepts. He’s always treated you like an object—one of affection and lust all the same.

You wonder if Yosuke is genuinely such a traditionalist, or if he fetishizes the idea of having a partner in some kind of homemaking role. You hardly know whether you had a family of your own or a life of your own, and you may be quite stupid about a lot of things, but you can gather the principle of being a wife and mother, as well as what that entails. Yosuke’s always been so desirous of the idea of impregnating you, of making you his. It’s disgusting. He can dress up his desires with the mention of starting a family and being a father all he likes. You know all he cares about is dominating you; lording over you and your body incessantly. What’s worse is that he wants you to beg girlishly for him to fuck you, to take care of you, to have you. He wants your babyish submission just as much as he wants to pin you down.

But why care so much to bring that fascination to a place like this? It’d only set one up for disappointment. Yosuke will eventually lose you. He can’t do anything about it. If he wanted a plaything to be his perfect little obedient toy for a prolonged period of time, someone to act as precisely what he wants, he’d have been better off finding someone in the real world and getting genuinely married. You’re sure there are plenty of young women in the real world who might take up such roles willingly. If it’s their preference, so be it. But it’s not yours. You want genuine love, not ownership and obedience. And while sex is nice, not having a say in it doesn’t entice you. Your body only reacts to the things done against your will because you can’t help it, but everyone seems to assume it’s what you want.

Truly, you could have liked a man like Yosuke if he treated you like Cyrus or Lav do. You hate giving your doctor compliments, but he’s a handsome man who can be caring when he really tries to be, and there have been a few sexual acts he’s performed that you admit felt good, putting the layer of despicability aside. But you can’t get past the awful he does. If he’d just listen to you…

You sigh. Humane treatment is too much to ask now. And it’s far too late for you to turn around and say you’ll accept Yosuke’s actions. Even if you were desperate enough to want to look the other way, you simply can’t.

Once your breath is recovered, you continue on in your mission to search for any signs of cameras. But on the ceiling, there’s no indication. No hint, no nothing. You eventually do move the desk back in place and start crawling on your knees under it to check for anything like a microphone, but again, there’s nothing. Even when you go under the bed, you find nothing. The bottom is hardly spacious enough for you to go fully under anyway. Any attempt to move the bed results in a lot of strain, but you manage to inch it forward just enough to eye the backside of the frame. As expected, you find nothing out of the ordinary before returning the large thing to its original place.

Eventually, this quest is forgotten when no significant results are yielded. You instead opt to take advantage of the fact that you were moving to continue your repetitive exercises, though you start with stretches this time to ease your body into the movements. Again, it feels pleasant to relieve the tension in your bones and muscles. You try again to lean backward as you had yesterday, but this time work to avoid falling over. Now that you’re able to concentrate and are fully aware of the movements in your body, it’s a lot easier to retain such balance. You wind up smiling in amazement at the flexibility as you eye the upside-down wall behind you.

The exercises you do are quite the same, though you push yourself to do them for longer. You do, however, find it a little odd that this gives you energy when visits can sometimes be just as straining on your body. Perhaps it’s the independence factor that makes you enjoy it so much more. As it is, you enjoyed sex that much more when you did it with people you loved. This is likely no different.

After ending your workout session with a few pushups, you drop your body to the floor and lay on the cold surface, letting it cool the heat of your skin. Usually the cold bugs you, but right now it’s quite the inviting sensation.

While laying around, you again wonder if the others will be weirded out by your return. What will you even really say to them? What if you don’t cry and they get offended? Would they think you don’t care enough about being back?

No, that’s a stupid assumption. You’re sure they’d be happy. Besides, they’re no strangers to getting past a bad situation quickly. If you don’t react, it’d probably not be so surprising. They’d know you care.

You frown, then, as you mindlessly stare at the legs of the desk near your face. Again, you ask yourself: What will you say to everyone? You remember what The Overseer permitted, though you must admit it was actually quite confusing at first. You weren’t sure you’d actually remember all of it.

Maybe you’ll just tell them you don’t remember much about your confinement, like you were advised. You’d honestly mulled over pretending you didn’t know anything, but that might be hard to keep up with. You’ll at least mention that you were in a terrible place but that you can’t really divulge much of it. The others can be a little curious, but you’re sure they’ll lay off.

As for Lav, Cyrus, and Eight…god you don’t know where you’ll start. You wish you could get away with hiding under the tables again to explain everything thoroughly, but you’re sure The Overseer would catch onto this quite quickly.

Perhaps if you had a way to hide your motivations in going under the table, you could fool him. Honestly, you suspect he can’t hear you under the things. The way he spoke of your stunt, he implied that what you were doing was obvious even if it wasn’t explicitly made clear that you were intending to do what you did. There must be other places where audio is hard to pick up. And, if you were to try whispering, maybe you’d get away with saying even more.

Your eyes widen as you remember the theater. For some reason, you can remember seeing something of significance there, but you can’t exactly recall what. More than likely you had a thought that surfaced when you were heavily anesthetized. It’s tended to be the case.

You wrack your brain trying to recall it, but can’t really. Your only assumption is that it has something to do with the beds. After all, you’d suspected long ago that it was one of the spots that could be considered for secretive discussion.

A huff of breath escapes your lips as you start to question why you’re bringing this all up anyway. Not like you can get away with much. Any move you want to make is incredibly risky. You have to think like The Overseer would and find a way to outsmart him.

Your mind wanders again to the possibility of escape—how could anyone even orchestrated something so large-scale successfully? You couldn’t fathom how you’d save everyone and yourself. You’d all have to be on the same page, and all wiling to work together and carefully.

Besides, you’re no leader. Cyrus and Lav are people you’ve always thought of as leaderly. Even Eight has more drive and pushiness than you do. Someone like him could definitely lead through intelligence. As for Lav, she’s strong, and Cyrus is charismatic and kind. He’d no doubt want to save everyone as you do, and he’d be the one to find a way to do it.

What can you do?

Your fists ball up on the floor. By now, your body has recovered from all the exercise, and now you’re begging for some quieter activity. You decide to push away the pointless thought of escape. Right now, there’s not much to be done. Especially not with your body this incredibly weak.

For the moment, you opt to push off the ground and sit up. Wanting to quell the rattling in your mind, you give meditating a shot. You mimic the gesture for strength, hoping that it’ll keep you grounded and focused, and give you the energy needed to push forward. You stay in this pose for a while, enduring a lengthy silence. Though, you’re grateful for the quiet. It allows for better concentration.

Meditating makes you again think of Cyrus, and you suddenly recall referring to The Overseer by that name in your anesthetized confusion. How embarrassing. The callous doctor was even a tinge jarred by the referral, by the way he spoke of and reacted to it. Though, maybe you were just so desperate for a familiar name that you clung to Cyrus’. You wonder what The Overseer’s real name is.

Once you’re done meditating, you find that your body Is far more settled than before. Your heart, which had begun racing during your exercise, is now pumping out at an even pace. Your legs and arms feel a tinge wobbly, but it’s not a terrible sensation. It’s a little strengthening to know that you’re fixing yourself in a way you couldn’t while confined to The Overseer’s room. Even if you’re still bound to the facility, not being bound in chains is a start. At least now when you’re bound for sex you know it’ll only be temporary.

Quietly, you stand and start to assemble all the things put on your bed, then return them to their previous place on the desk. Opting for another quiet activity, you pick up one of the books Yosuke left you and spend a long time reading it.

The story apparently is set in some older era of cottages and farming, and tells about two siblings in search of their missing mother who was taken by bandits. You can’t much help but visualize each sibling as Two and Three, something that makes you laugh to yourself now and again as you read through the book’s pages. The characters and the people you know are quite similar, you find—the elder brother wants to keep watch over his younger sister and take care of her, but he’s quite the sarcastic type and has a bit of bite to him. The girl, on the other hand, is far more caring and sweet. She believes in the good of others, even when her trusting nature sometimes gets both siblings in trouble along their travels.

The siblings end up encountering quite a few obstacles like mysterious towns and shady travelers who impede their progress. But, in the end, they find their mother in a mountain town. Despite being taken from her home by bandits, she went through her own series of struggles and pushed through them, even escaping her bonds on her own. In the end, she’d wound up in a mountain town, hoping to find a way back to her children. The story’s an easy read compared to some other books you’ve gone through, and none too unpleasant. You do suppose happy endings in books make you happy too. If only stories with such happy endings were real.

If you have a mother and father, will they ever know where you ended up? Or will they live life never finding out where their daughter went? If only such a thought hadn’t crossed your mind. It ends up souring your happy reaction to the book’s story.

Upon closing the thing, your eye catches the drawing pad on the desk’s surface. You do try to work on your artwork a little more, wanting to get something done before you go back to the others. Now that the pen sketch has been done, you finally try to color it. It’s a little hard to get all the colors right, but you slightly smile as you work, thinking of how happy you’ll be to see everyone again tomorrow.

You question whether you’ll ever get to meet the boy that was brought here. If he’s a tough young man, he might be a little scary, unless Mnemosyne affected his personality to a point of docility. Though, you’d imagine inducting a new Number would be hellish. You’ve never dealt with that before, so there might be a lot of conflict in the group if his personality is strong and his resistance to this place causes him to act a certain way. But even if it kills you, you’ll stay diligent at being welcoming. Nobody should go this place alone.

The Numbers have put up with each other’s worst tendencies, so you’ll try to do the same. You won’t say guidance is something you’re great at, but you’ll do whatever can be done to help any new Numbers. Cyrus shouldn’t shoulder such a task on his own. Plus, he might not be in the best mindset to do it so soon after losing you. There’s no doubt in your mind that your sudden removal hurt him and Lav especially bad, but you’ve mulled that over enough. Provided that everyone’s there tomorrow, you’ll know what’s happened.

You guess that’s something you failed to consider—there’s a chance not everyone will be present. But if Gale’s responsible for variability in your environment, then they could probably orchestrate who shows up when.

Eventually, you get done coloring your art. The drawing’s colors are a tinge off from the real thing, you find. You’re not precisely the greatest at distinguishing shades and tones, but can certainly tell that there’s some minor inconsistencies. Though, you’re quite shocked you got as far as you did with the limited number of pencils you had.

Upon examining the finished product by holding the pad in the air, you’re interrupted by the sound of your room door clicking and sliding open. Promptly, you put the thing back on the desk and turn your head to see Yosuke emerging from your now-open door. In his hands is what you presume to be dinner.

Seeing the tray does cause your stomach to instinctively growl. You hadn’t really eaten lunch because you were stuck here, and you’re famished from all the physical activity you did.

As Yosuke places the tray before your desk and shoves aside the pad, his olive eyes flicker toward it curiously. He gives a curious “hmm?” when he sees it, then trades the tray in his hand for the pad itself.

“Have you finished?”

You reach up to stop your doctor from looking it over, but he raises the pad over your head and away from your grasp. With a lowering of his brows, he gives a light frown.

“I’m allowed to see it, Ten,” he reminds you. “I’ve already glimpsed It earlier anyway. Don’t fuss. Eat something, won’t you?”

You huff a bit, but do listen to your doctor and turn to your plate. It’s some chopped chicken dish with pineapple and vegetable chunks mixed in, and you find that the flavors complement one another well upon tasting it. Though, it’s hard to concentrate on your meal when your eyes keep wandering to the side to watch your doctor as he runs his fingers along the drawing’s page.

“How was your day, dear?” He asks while examining your art. “I trust adjusting back to your room has gone well.”

“It’s the same old room as before,” you mumble between bites. “At the very least I’ve managed to get away from the rattled state I was in being away from here. But I was already working toward grounding myself before I left anyway.”

“Well, it might be different when we start our playtime again, or when you see the others.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. But I suppose I’ll deal with it.”

You turn your focus back to your tray. “Anyway, I just exercised like you told me to, and I read one of the books. Nothing else of note.”

You exclude mention of checking for cameras for obvious reasons. The same goes for the meditation you did, though it’s not clear whether Yosuke knows Cyrus does it. He hardly seemed to know your companion well the one time they did meet. Cyrus had even expressed not knowing how to respond to your doctor.

“And this?” Yosuke holds up the paper pad a little, gesturing at it.

“What of it?” You bite back, expecting your doctor to start pecking crudely at your friends and your reliance on them. “I wanted to draw them.”

Yosuke’s eyes don’t leave the page. He frowns, though does not say quite what you were anticipating. “I haven’t seen them in a while either, really. Though my focus was on you at the time I brought you here, I was admittedly quite shocked to see Seven.”

“And Micah too?”

Your doctor huffs a bit of breath slowly from his nose and picks his head up to look mindlessly at the ceiling.

“A rather wily young man, yes. He was needlessly forward. I suppose he’ll want to see you soon—perhaps even tomorrow,” he responds with a low voice. “I did talk with your mother today about what’s been going on with him, knowing he sounded far too eager to have you back with us. Apparently he’s been busy doing his job.”

“You make it sound like you don’t know. I thought you said Mom gossiped a lot about the others.”

Yosuke waves a hand about slightly. “I said occasionally. Your mother had avoided bringing talk of the other doctors up too frequently because her focus was on herself and I. She chatted about personal affairs if anything, not jobs or what was going on with this operation. Anyway, her sometimes sparse words in that topic were partially a courtesy. I hardly wanted to associate with this place after losing you. But she indulged me quite a lot in her excitement over my telling her you’ve returned.”

“Does she know about the lift on limitations?” You question nervously. Yosuke slightly shakes his head.

“No. And I won’t tell her right away. I still don’t know if she’s well enough to behave around you or not. I do still want to allow her to see you since I do indeed still owe the woman a great deal. In any case, she’ll find out soon, no doubt. Most everyone will. In your mother’s case, I might have to keep an eye on things. I won’t let them get out of hand again.”

“But what about the others?” You demand. “You won’t supervise them?!”

“I know they won’t kill you, at least,” your doctor responds forwardly, lowering his head again and turning it to face you. “But frankly, I don’t want to be there to see the sorts of things they’ll do to you. I know well the patterns they have. Even if there’s no restrictions on visitations with you, that doesn’t mean they’ll completely break you. Just enough to satisfy them. I’ll just have to deal with the aftermath.”

You pause a moment and look on at your doctor with a bit of surprise. “You really are worried?”

“Yes and no,” Yosuke admits. “I know what the others won’t do, so I don’t much have to worry quite as much about the drastic. But I know what they will do, and it’s this that worries me. I don’t want to see it in person. I don’t even really want to think about it. The only people who serve as exceptions to these statements are doctors like Gale, Jonathan, and Nathaniel, whom I know with certainty will treat you well. As for your mother, I’d rather step in and keep an eye on things, knowing that she can be a bit more unpredictable. She’s worrisome for that reason. I wasn’t expecting her to act the way she did all that time ago, for instance. Thus I have reason to want to keep an eye on her interactions with you. I’m certain I’m not barred from doing at least that much.

“Anyway, someone like Lilah doesn’t wholly concern me since she expressed no interest in you, but if she should encounter you and know that she can afford to let loose, she might hurt you even without the intention of sex. But unfortunately, since our boss allows so much from her, I’d be hard-pressed to fight back against what she does. Again, all I can do is take care of you when you’re injured.”

You look down. “Did it ever…you know, hurt you to see her treat Eight the way she does? After you spent a little while getting to know him?”

“I suppose I felt a tinge of sympathy for the boy once, yes,” Yosuke admits with a light frown. “But he wasn’t for me what you are. His crude stubbornness made it easier to disconnect from him. Faster to. I do think he’s a rather smart, talented young man, but he wasn’t what I needed in the end. Now? I care little what Lilah does with him. I care little for him at all. He’s not mine. You are.”

Your face scrunches up in a subtle scowl. What a cruel sentiment.

“Do you really even know anything about the others? Do you even care who they are?”

Yosuke raises a brow. “Oh? You’ve never wanted to speak of them with me before. I can’t imagine how much they’ve been on your mind for you to even be willing to indulge in the topic now of all times.”

“I’m just curious,” you remark before taking another bite of chicken and pineapple. Yosuke chuckles softly and places a hand warmly upon your head.

“Well, I know them by number and face,” he explains. “But I don’t really know them all that personally. I’ve happened to come across some files, I’ve spoken about them with each doctor who owns them, that sort of thing. Anything else I’ve learned of your companions has come through the few times I’ve been in contact with them. No doubt they’ve seen me a few times in turn.”

“Owns”? That’s not the word you wanted Yosuke to use, but perhaps it’s appropriate given the nature of this operation. There’s not much of any other way to describe the relationships between the doctors and their prisoners.

Mindlessly, you poke at the chicken scraps left on your now practically empty plate and focus on the same worry you have been.

“I’m not sure what to expect when I go back.”

“Are you nervous?” Your doctor raises a brow. He withdraws his hand and closes the drawing pad, then places it back on your desk. “There’s no need to be. Likely little will change other than what you’ve probably learned during your confinement and that it might impact your interactions and perspectives. I’m quite sure that you were exposed to new information if you were that close to my superior.”

“Are you going to ask me what that information was?” You pout. Yosuke merely gives a gentle chuckle.

“No, dear. I won’t pry. I don’t doubt my superior will have my head if I do. But there is one thing I would like to know.”

“And what’s that?” You turn in your chair and face Yosuke with a focused eye. Yosuke returns it, his olive gaze piercing into you.

“What exactly did Lucius do to you?”

Your heart sinks a bit. “I thought-“

“I know well I can do nothing against him or my superior for their actions.” Your doctor interrupts. “I’m at their mercy much as you are. But I want to know.”

He cups your cheek gently, but watches you with an attentive closeness. While his eyes don’t falter from their place, yours drop away.

“You’re just going to get mad,” you warn him. “If you really worry that much over me, you’re only going to let what I tell you linger in your mind. I know how you get.”

Yosuke frowns.

“Dear, I understand that. But I still want to hear it from you.”

A huff of breath escapes your nostrils as your attempt at reasoning with your doctor fails.

“Fine,” you give in, though refuse to bring up the ordeal with C1 and Red Valentine. Yosuke would become absolutely livid if he knew about it, you’re certain. But you also know he’s going to persist about this issue with Lucius, and so you don’t bother fighting it further.

“He chained me tightly to the bed and used me. Repeatedly, and often. Roughly. It started with him making me suck him off, but it got worse over time. His treatment of me was no different than what I’ve endured from the other doctors, only I couldn’t even…”

You find it difficult to finish the sentence, and wind up trailing off. Unfortunately, your doctor persists. His palm slips from your cheek to under your chin, and he cups it firmly.

“Couldn’t what?”

Though such words sound like they’re teasing, Yosuke’s tone delivers them in a blunt, stern way.

“I couldn’t come. Not for a while.”

“And you didn’t want to when you finally did?”

“…No. It was far more miserable than it usually is with you or the other doctors.”

The both of you grow silent a moment, and Yosuke’s hand eventually withdraws from your face entirely. You don’t bother to look up, but know your doctor is silently seething at the mention of your rough use. Despite previously remarking that he was fully aware of and accepting of the fact that others would use you regularly, he seems to have acquired more reservations about it—at least with the rougher doctors, anyway. It certainly sounds like he’s against the idea now than he used to be. He merely begrudges what he can’t control. Attempting to control it now would be difficult now that he has eyes all over him after what he did to you.

Reliving the ordeal with Lucius is no more pleasant for you either. You partly hoped Yosuke wouldn’t bring it up again for the sole reason of not having to be reminded of your continuous rape. You couldn’t even get any bodily pleasure from it until the last moments. There was hardly any recompense for your miserable abuse. Even with the other doctors, they engaged in foreplay and forced you to a more pleasurable orgasm. It’s sick to think you’d willingly say you prefer to when the mere use of your body is itself despicable. But between the two, you’d rather get off from being used. Lesser of two evils and all that.

You’re shaken back into focus of your doctor when you feel his hands place themselves upon your shoulders. Yosuke’s olive eyes persist in their gaze upon you, though his expression has since softened. He watches with a gentle expression at your uncertain reaction to him. Your eyes meet his own, but you have no idea what to expect from him right now. Will he comfort you? Use you? Put you to bed?

“Ten,” he coos. “I’d like to alleviate that tension you’ve been feeling for so long.”

Your heart flutters at his words, though you don’t much know why. You know what he’s leading up to, and you know it’s not right. But you can’t help feeling a bit strange at hearing what Yosuke’s saying. Your mind trails back to all his uncomfortable touching of you yesterday, despite you not wanting to think about it again. Your nervousness is only heightened once Yosuke kneels down before you, his palms trailing down your arms as he does so. His eyes don’t once shift away, nor do yours.

“I don’t doubt you’ve had such a hard time, dear,” he remarks with a gentle voice. “Though you are in many ways the same as you once were, I admit you have seemed just a little different. More serious and forward than I remember, though wearier and perhaps wholly embittered. I don’t blame you, but I don’t want you to be troubled, Ten. I want to see you content, even if you won’t smile for me, though I haven’t quite given up on seeing you do so. But for now, I want to give you something as recompense for your suffering.”

You give a subtle gasp as Yosuke’s hands drop from your arms and glides them along the flesh at your outer thighs before landing his palms sweetly on the outside of your knees. Your cheeks are by now burning with red, flushed heat in response to his sweet touch. Yosuke merely watches your flustered reaction with a gentle smile as he looks up at your blushing face.

“My pet, I want to make you come.”

Chapter 70: Visit Twenty Eight - Resurgence

“Do you think you could entertain a ‘no’?” You attempt to remain straight-faced. But, naturally, your doctor is privy to this façade. He knows your reactional tendencies more than you’d like to admit. He gives a bit of a chuckle and slides his thumbs along the flesh at your knees while still gripping them gently.

“Even now you’re quite the amusing one,” he remarks with a smile. “Why refuse me knowing that the next person you see could be someone a bit more forceful?”

“I-I don’t follow.” You struggle to concentrate on Yosuke’s words when his hands continue to warmly brush against your knees and thighs. Why are you reacting like this to him?

“I’m certain Micah will want to schedule a visit soon given how he spoke with you,” your doctor goes on. He drops one hand to the wheels of your chair and locks them in place. The light click of the mechanism being sprung only adds to your nervousness.

Once done, Yosuke returns his palm to your leg.

“Admittedly I’m quite annoyed that it had to be him,” he forwardly expresses, “but so be it. I’m not precisely sure what he’ll want to do, but I know his interests. At best, it’ll be humiliating for you. At worst, you’ll return to me with injuries. I personally think a gentler touch should be your first after all that other pain you went through. I believe it’s better we both transition into things this way and adjust to the intimacy of our bodies meeting again.”

Without giving you much a chance to protest, he moves his hands between your knees and gently pushes your legs apart. Rather immediately, he looks at your panties with a playful glint in his eye.

“You say that as if you’re not already willing to move on that quickly,” you criticize Yosuke, watching with unease as he makes his move. You hardly bother to stop him knowing that it’s rather pointless to change his mind now. Both he and you know this much. “You’re just teasing me. You always do.”

“And even when you wholly dislike it, you still react so sweetly,” Yosuke notes as his olive eyes flicker up toward your face. He gives a bit of a cheeky grin as he moves to gently lift up the hem of your gown. “You’re blushing quite a lot, my pet.”

Your eyes nervously trail away from his. Yosuke’s treatment of you is awkward to get accustomed to again, but your body is unusually excited by the idea of being serviced since you couldn’t get much pleasure out of anything done in The Overseer’s room. Even when you finally did come, it wasn’t at all a pleasant experience knowing how Lucius was and why he was tormenting you. He hardly found you erotic—he just wanted to watch you suffer.

On the opposite end, despite how horrible Yosuke is, you know he will make your body feel good. Even when you didn’t want several of the things he used to do to you, they did feel far more satisfying than you want to admit. And now that his hands are between your legs and his face is so very close to your crotch, you almost want to give up for today and just let it happen. Evidently it’s not acceptable behavior and you still hold such a heavy grudge against your doctor, but…

Yosuke gives one last chuckle before moving in to gently lick at the cloth between your legs. The trailing tip of his tongue as can be felt against your folds from behind the thin cloth, and you shudder a bit as he moves upward to where your clit is in one swift, long stroke. Once he’s found your clit from behind the white, thin fabric, Yosuke begins to tease and suck at it gently. Even the light brushing of his lips from behind your panties is enough to make you blush even more.

A light sigh escapes your throat as your doctor teases your clit sweetly. You grip the sides of your chair seat with both hands and lean back against the top half while sucking in a few breaths over the sensation of your doctor’s tongue tickling at your lower body.

Yosuke’s eyes remain fixated up on your reddened face as he toys with your clit, but he eventually retracts and looks down at your panties again with a smirk. He trails two of his fingers along your clothed slit, going up and down slowly before pulling them away. He then observes his digits before looking back at you with a devilish smile.

“My, you’re eager,” he teases upon noting the bit of wetness he’s picked up on his pads. “We should remove that pretty veil over you so that I can make the sensations you’re craving even stronger.”

As off-putting as the mention of a veil is, you remain focused on your doctor’s next actions. Yosuke chuckles handsomely as he reaches under your gown and up to the waistline of your panties to start tugging them down. It takes little effort for him to undress you, and once he’s done, he leaves your underwear on the floor and examines your pussy with a rather eager eye.

“As beautiful as I remember,” he breathes. His warm fingers brush against and toy with your folds as he examines it thoroughly, the sensation making you whimper slightly. “I missed this. I was quite taken upon seeing it again yesterday. I wasn’t lying when I said I was too tired to play with my pet. I’d not been quite ready to enjoy having you again then. But I am now.”

He presses a finger to your clit, then taps at it lightly. Each retraction of his warmth, then immediate and subsequent pecking of it with the pad of his finger leaves your body in a state of want. Yosuke smiles at your girlish, gasping reactions to his teasing touch.

Before he carries on, your doctor removes his glasses and sets them aside, reaching up to the desk to place them there. Once ready, his attention returns to you. He moves your legs over his shoulders and holds your outer thighs with both palms pressed flatly against the flesh there.

“I’ll be using my mouth alone for this one, but I’ll do a little more for my precious pet once I have her back on the bed,” he tells you while giving your outer thighs a loving rub. His face is hovering so close to your crotch, and the vibrations of his voice humming against you there cause you to let out a flustered sigh. Your clutch on the chair tightens as your fingers curl around the edges of the seat’s sides. Your head tilts back as Yosuke teases you, and your chest heaves in breaths. It’s easy for your doctor to see just how flustered you are. He merely watches with a rather satisfied look on his face.

“Have you missed this, dear?” He teases with a coy tone. “This lusty attention that I give you?”

He kisses your right inner thigh, his lips lingering sweetly on your flesh before he pulls away.

You struggle to really answer in your eager state, your teeth biting together and your lips pressed tightly. Fighting this urge isn’t an option right now, but you try nonetheless to not let the want to be touched overcome you. Your doctor’s nature is sickening. But his teasing of you, the use of a gentler and more personalized kind of touch that you haven’t felt in a long while is difficult to resist even with the disgust you feel toward the man himself. After a while you might find it easier to go through this without batting an eye, but for now, you struggle and continue to fight with yourself about it.

To make matters worse, your doctor leans in further and gives a light inhale, sniffing at the heat between your legs. He gives a satisfied hum in response, much to your displeasure.

“What a lovely fragrance,” he comments sweetly before giving your clit a light, wet flick with the tip of his tongue. “You’re every bit as perfect as you were the first time we met in this place.”

“Would it kill you to cut the commentary?” You grunt out, a tinge mortified by the sudden act. Yosuke merely chuckles again.

“Of course, my pet. You want my tongue now, don’t you? How very demanding, but I’ll indulge it.”

“That’s not-“ Your protest is sharply cut off and trails into a whimper as Yosuke laps and nips eagerly at your clit. He occasionally pauses to suck it in between his lips, almost as if kissing it politely. In response, you can’t help but let out a series of light whimpers and girlish moans as your doctor takes you. Your body presses further into your chair as you’re lapped up, and the toes of your feet hanging off of Yosuke’s shoulders slightly curl in response to the pleasure.

Yosuke then tongues slightly at your pussy, lapping up the juices to taste.

“Delicious,” Yosuke breathes between tonguings. “It’s a good thing I gave you all that fruit earlier.”

He promptly returns to your clit, circling and flicking at it with a steady pace at first. His breaths expel heavily from his nose as he eats you out, and you can tell by his chuckling responses to your girlish whines that he’s enjoying your reactions to him.

You want Yosuke to pause and let you breathe, but you struggle to get any words out. He only continues to suck at and lick you up hungrily, handsome moans of his own slipping muffledly past his lips and into your pussy and clit.

The warmth of his hands on the outside of your thighs, the brushing of his hair against your knees, the wet, rapid tonguing against your most sensitive areas…all of it becomes too much to handle.

You grit your teeth again and clutch the chair’s seat tightly as your body responds eagerly to your doctor’s stimulation of it. But at some point, the chair isn’t enough. You wind up bringing a hand to the edge of your desk, while the other clamps against Yosuke’s head, its fingers digging into his dark hair as he continues to toy with your clit. By now, you feel a heavy wetness between your legs that you can’t do anything about. The sounds of Yosuke’s tongue wiggling and teasing you incessantly causes a flurry of light wet noises to fill the air.

“Yosuke…” you breathe, unable to say much else. “Please…”

You haven’t felt this good in a while. Your heart won’t stop fluttering, your cheeks are burning red, and your breaths are rapid and deep. Despite your better nature telling you not to accept such pleasures from your doctor, you start to want him to make you come. A part of you wants to whine and beg for it, but you bite your tongue and instead let a series of moans and gasps escape you.

You don’t have to beg anyway. Yosuke knows quite well how close you are and goes a bit faster. As he continues to work you, his chin and bottom lip brush against your sopping pussy. You can’t take the warm sensation of his flesh against you any longer, and let out a loud whine as your body starts to reach its peak. Yosuke refuses to let up, lapping you up without mercy until you finally start to buck and jerk your against his face and desperately ride out your orgasm. Your head throws back as you let out a loud cry, and even once your ecstasy has started to ebb, your doctor continues to lick up every bit of your juices.

Your lower body continues to lightly grind against your doctor’s face, a reaction you remain embarrassed at even now. Though, you’re sure Yosuke’s enjoying himself. His fingers press into your flesh as they curl, and he lets out a series of throated, devilish laughs into your pussy in response to your body’s giving into him.

Once your pleasure finally settles, your hands drop from their grip on the desk and your doctor’s hair in a weary fashion. Your chest heaves in breaths in recovery, all the while Yosuke continues to lick your pussy up, gathering its wetness with his tongue. Eventually, he pulls away and looks up at you while licking his lips. He gives a coy smile at the sight of your flustered recovery.

“Oh? Already there, my dear?” He asks playfully. “I’m not quite done eating.”

Before you have the chance to speak, he moves back in to start tonguing at your clit and pussy, this time going more strongly and hungrily slurping up your juices and sucking at your flesh. Your eyes widen at his attacking of your body before it had a chance to fully rest up between acts. However, the sudden continuation of your doctor’s eating out of your pussy only makes your heart flutter.

In your weariness, you had laid back a bit further, but now your body is hunched over as Yosuke works you incessantly. Your hands both come up to his head this time, gripping his hair tightly as your whimpers and whines fill the air.

“W-wait!” You beg, still taken aback by the sudden act. You’d expected Yosuke to stop. But your doctor doesn’t much listen to you. Instead, he plays with the flesh on your outer thighs with his fingers and continues to eat you out. Despite the initial surprise, you find that your body is again responding to Yosuke’s tongue and lips. Your pussy remains completely soaked by your juices and his saliva as he laps and sucks at your clit, tonguing it rapidly as your fingers dig into his scalp.

“I can’t…!” You whine, but struggle to finish your sentence. In moments, the excitement, the spark in your body emerges once more, and you again let out a lout cry as your body begs to come. With one last bold lick of Yosuke’s strong tongue over your sensitive clit, you let go. With your body hunched over, it’s hard to fully buck against your doctor’s face again, but you do instinctively move your hips around and rub against it as you let go again.

When everything ends, you let out a girlish sigh and lean back again, letting your doctor’s scalp go. You might have ripped his hair out if you tugged at it any harder. Evidently, Yosuke hardly minds that by how enamored with your response to him he is. But now, your hands again drop back to the sides of the chair, dropping past it. As you again suck in breaths, Yosuke finally lets up on your pussy after finishing his lapping of its juices. He licks the thing clean enough so that it’s no longer completely sopping.

“My sweet pet,” he teases upon finally finishing up. “You enjoyed every bit of my tongue, I see.”

Your eyes trail wearily away from the man in embarrassment at how eager your body was to let him have it. No words leave your mouth. Your hesitant quiet only leaves Yosuke with a smirk on his lips.

“Of course, there’s more to be done that isn’t just in this chair, dear.”

He rubs delicately at your outer thighs before opting to remove them from his shoulders. Carefully, he slides each limb off and lets them fall. Your feet again graze the cold floor.

“Shall I take my princess to her bed?” Yosuke offers sweetly as he rises from the ground. You say nothing in response at first, still bothered by your submission. Moreover, you’re upset at Yosuke’s calling you a princess again. Even Lucius couldn’t taint that nickname for the man, you see. It stings hearing the name again after what the coldhearted man put you through.

No doubt if you were to bring it up, Yosuke would mention some attempt of his to claim the pet name back for himself. He’d done something similar when he used a vibrator on you a while back, trying to get you to think of him instead of Mom who’d used the same device to torture you. Perhaps you should be grateful at his attempt to break the association, but it’s no less disturbing coming from your doctor.

You gasp then as Yosuke’s fingers slide under your chin, while his thumb presses and rubs at your lips. Your eyes then turn to him as he watches your reddened face with glee.

“Come on,” he urges you. “I’ll keep making you feel good.”

You look up at him with a tinge of disdain in your eyes, but willingly allow him to take you. Yosuke drops his hand and scoops you up in his arms, then ferries you to bed, where you’re sat upon its edge like before. You half-expected the man to lay you down.

Once you’re seated, Yosuke merely motions with his finger toward your gown, signaling for you to remove it. Without question, you know what he means, and you carry out the task with the discomfort of knowing he’s watching your every move. Once you’re naked, you drop your gown on the floor, and Yosuke gently pushes your upper body down so that you’re laying across the bed.

“Good girl,” your doctor sweetly praises.

Still a bit flushed from being eaten out, your fingers now clutch at your rose comforter as you await Yosuke’s next move. The man gives a gentle smile, then moves to learn over your body. One hand of his remains pressed against the comforter to the right of your head, and the other gently trails along your cheek. Your doctor watches each deep breath you take, each anticipant one.

“I’m surprised you’re so turned on, my pet,” he coos. “You usually dislike this kind of thing.”

“Don’t get so used to it,” you breathe, now avoiding your doctor’s eyes. “It’s just been a while. My body’s not acting like it should.”

“It’s been a while for us both, yes,” Yosuke remains persistent. “Evidently you’re pining for this kind of attention after so long of being alone.”

He smiles as his hand drops from your cheek and down your neck. He trails two of his fingers along your body, his olive eyes following them as he explores each bit of your flesh, as if attempting to accustom himself to it all over again.

When he reaches your breast, he teases at your nipple with the pad of his index finger. You wince and blush in response, though this reaction only makes your doctor lean in closer.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises. “You can afford to enjoy this touch, my dear.”

“I let you in once before,” you refuse him as Yosuke then starts to paw gently at your breast, cupping it in his hand and squeezing it playfully. “I should never have made that mistake. You understand why I’m so hesitant to let go.”

“True enough,” your doctor doesn’t refute this, then gives a soft laugh in your ear. “But I’m giving you a free pass again after what you’ve endured. Even if you drive me a little crazy, I know there’s nothing I can do about it after just losing you. So relax, dear. All I ask of you is that you let me do what I like.”

He leans down to lap at your other nipple, then suck at it a bit. The warmth of his tongue against such a sensitive area leaves you with a throated whimper.

“But I will be gentle, of course,” your doctor assures you as he pulls away. “I won’t hurt my pet after what those men did to her. You have nothing to worry about now, Ten.”

You shut your eyes and give a hesitant moan as the man continues to nibble at the flesh around your breast, all while gently kneading and toying with the other in his hand.

Yosuke gives a light groan as he laps you up, enjoying himself utterly. But soon, he pulls away and shifts himself up so that he’s hovering over your face.

“I could easily just force you to submit to me,” he says quite bluntly. “Make you beg for my touch like a little girl. You can’t exactly say no forever.”

Before you can say anything in response, he leans in and starts to kiss you, his lips tenderly pressing against yours. His breaths expel again from his nose, and his eyes close as he works you. At first, he’s gentle and polite, but he soon starts to work his tongue into your mouth the lustier he becomes. He only pulls away now and then to catch his breath but keeps at silencing you with his wet kisses.

Soon, your eyes shoot open wide in nervous fear as you feel Yosuke’s hand trail from your breast to your abdomen. Your fingers clutch tighter at the fabric of your comforter, worrying that your doctor will again tease you about impregnation. You aren’t in any mood to hear about it after everything you’ve learned. Despite all the calming of your mind you tried to do, it’s not as if the worry over it has fully diminished. You just don’t want the constant reminder.

Luckily, Yosuke’s touch doesn’t linger there. His hand merely continues to trail warmly along your body. He’s only trying to feel you up. This realization isn’t any more welcoming given what your doctor’s doing, but your heart settles just a bit knowing that he isn’t going to bother you about the subject right now.

When Yosuke pulls away, he laughs.

“I won’t, of course,” he promises. “I want you to beg for me on your own if possible. But you know what I expect from you, dear. As it is, you’re doing quite well at not fighting quite as much. I do adore the effort.”

You let out a gasp as Yosuke’s hand next trails your thigh again. He teases it sweetly, watching your eyes shift away nervously.

“Would you like my fingers, my pet?”

You wince at these words. Your body wants him to fuck you, but you don’t. Still, you can’t fight him much. If you make him mad, make him crazy, it’ll only spell trouble for you. No matter what option you take, you have to accept him.

“…Yes,” you quietly mutter in defeat.

Your lips press together as Yosuke’s fingers then move down and trail your wet slit. He lingers on your clit, rubbing at and circling it delicately. He watches as your legs slightly shuffle about in response.

“Your hungry little pussy is quite cute, dear,” Yosuke teases with a chuckle as he eyes your crotch. “How I’ve missed it. Now, do stay still for me.”

Your doctor’s fingers atop your clit are then replaced by his thumb. His digits remain by your pussy, teasing at your entrance playfully while his olive eyes watch your lower body squirm even at this touch. It’s too embarrassing, but you can’t help yourself.

Yosuke then leans in and begins to kiss your neck, pecking at it sweetly and trailing from your nape upward. Once he reaches your ear, he gives it a little nip, and it’s then that he pushes his fingers into your pussy and starts to slide them gently In and out of you.

Your head turns away as the man works you with his lips and fingers. You begin to sigh and whimper, still turned on from being eaten out. Even now, your pussy practically gobbles up your doctor’s digits hungrily as you want more. This observation of your bothered state only leaves your doctor to chuckle handsomely in your ear. He gives it a lick, then coos,

“What a beautiful reaction, my dear. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

“I can’t…” you breathe, your chest rising and falling sharply as breaths are sucked in. “I can’t take this…”

“Relax, my pet,” Yosuke responds lowly. “You’re safe now. I have you.”

Your trembling hands, desperate to cling to something as your pussy Is relentlessly fingered, reach up to Yosuke’s arms. One reaches up to grab the one close to your head, and the other goes down to clutch at the fabric of Yosuke’s sleeve that’s attached to the hand between your legs.

“Stop..!” you whine with a heaving breath. Yosuke merely grins and laps up your ear, the sensation of wetness making you blush and turn your head instinctively.

“Oh no, no, you don’t want it stop,” your doctor pulls away and refuses. He’s practically whispering in your ear, his lips so close to it. “Your mind only begs to use that word because you’re afraid to ask for more. But you can ask for me to make you come, Ten. You can make as much noise as you like with your doctor. You know that I’ll take good care of your pretty body, pet.”

With another playful chuckle from your doctor, Yosuke’s fingers start to pound faster into your pussy, and his thumb continues to circle around and toy with your swollen clit. Your toes again curl at the sensation of being touched this way. You’ve not been genuinely fingered like this in a long time, and you can’t take how good it feels. Coupled with Yosuke’s nipping and licking at your ears, you feel as if you might burst.

You remain adamant on refusing to beg for more pleasure, unless of course you have to. You already asked Yosuke for his fingers. You won’t ask for more. You won’t let Yosuke get the satisfaction in seeing you squirm and mewl beneath you, longing for his touch. You won’t.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Yosuke continues to breathe in your ear, his coy tone and the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

His fingering pace does not let up once, and you feel so good with him fucking you like this that you start to let a bit of drool spill from the corner of your mouth. Yosuke takes note of this rather immediately and gives a throated chuckle.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos upon seeing your state. Your doctor then leans in to lap up the saliva from your chin and give you a wet kiss. “The one who likes being touched by her doctor. The one who wants him to fill her.”

He leans in ever closer to your ear again and whispers,

“After this, you’ll get my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pet?”

His fingers curl in your pussy, the tips and pads of his digits now rubbing at and stimulating your g-spot. You start to whine louder at the sensation, unable to control how you respond to all of the stimulation. It’s almost overwhelming after so long of not having it like this. Your doctor hasn’t even entered your body and you already feel like you’re going mad.

“Come for me, dear,” Yosuke breathes in your ear. “I can tell that you want to.”

You can’t fight it now. You want to let go. Your pussy tightens around your doctor’s fingers as he rapidly thrusts them in and out of your body and curls them inside you. Your breaths become shallower as you yearn to orgasm. Soon, you can’t resist it any longer, and whines again desperately fill the air as you come. Yosuke continues to moan and breathe into your ear as he nips at it, the feeling of his touch adding to your climax. Your body again bucks against your doctor, this time riding his fingers with eagerness. Your fingers tighten around Yosuke’s wrists, the fabric of his sleeves folding beneath your digits.

“Good…” Yosuke practically whispers as you continue to jerk yourself against him. He gives your cheek a strong, brief smooch. “Very good. I missed seeing my dear pet like this. So sweet and lusty. How beautiful.”

He pulls his head back and watches you suck in breaths as your pleasure gradually subsides. Once you’re still again, he smiles.

“I won’t take it too far tonight since your body is still so weak, but I would like to at least give you a feel for my own body again. Even just once. Alright?”

His fingers wetly retract from your pussy, and Yosuke gives them a bit of a suck to clean them off. As your arms drop back to the bed, you say nothing and try to catch your breath. Unfortunately, your body does want to go further. You remain anticipant for more, though, in part, you are rather afraid knowing that it’s been a while since you’ve taken him. He’s not oversized, but he is a bit big. Lucius wasn’t hard to take only because he barely made you wet enough for it not to hurt. But it’s been some time since then. You aren’t sure what to expect.

Even worse is that you still worry about whether your doctor’s use of you will lead to a pregnancy. Even knowing that you could be fine, the fact that there’s even a bit of chance that you might not be leaves you anxious. Still, you can’t do a thing about it now.

Now that Yosuke has finally pulled away and stood up, you’re able to turn your head back and look at him worriedly. His olive eyes do not once leave you as he slowly undoes his belt. Even with his calm demeanor, you can tell how excited he is for this. Not only by the bulge now pressing against the crotch of his pants, but by the glint of eagerness in his eye—subtle, but clear. He wants to fuck you again. Even if he’ll take it slow this time, even if he won’t do it multiple times like he has before, Yosuke still very much intends to lord over your body and fill you with cum. You can’t fathom why men like the doctors here are so eager to pump their cocks into women who don’t want them just because they have the urge to dominate something. Even if they’re gentler like Jonathan and Nathaniel, they still want their pleasure.

Your heart jumps at the familiar slow zip of Yosuke’s slacks as he undoes their zipper. He opens himself up and exposes his boxers again, though wastes no time in pulling even those down. You eye his erect cock with nervousness. His member is fairly wet and somewhat dripping with precum already. He’s begging to fuck you without even having to do it verbally.

Yosuke gives a gentle chuckle. “I’ll go slow, dear. But forgive me if I get a little enthusiastic. I am quite happy to be back with you again.”

“I can tell,” you remark under your breath as Yosuke rubs at your outer thigh.

“Can you much blame me?” He asks innocently, sliding one of your thighs open so that your pussy is fully exposed to him. “I’ve always wanted you, and now you’re mine. I’d be remiss not to take advantage of that. But let’s not fight now, pet. I want you to enjoy this. It’s compensation for your troubles, after all.”

You look on at your doctor with a concentrated eye and partly lowered brows. “Always?”

“I’m speaking figuratively, of course,” Yosuke tells you bluntly. He gives a short laugh. “You make something out of everything, don’t you? Now hush. You’ve no reason to get so worked up when there’s pleasure here waiting for you. You do want it, don’t you?”

Your eyes shut, and your body trembles as Yosuke slides his cock against your wet slit, the thickness of his member teasing you.

“Dear, you’re shaking,” he croons. “You keep fighting your body like that and you’ll only hurt yourself.”

A whimper leaves your lips as you feel Yosuke lean in and sweetly kiss your neck. Your legs try to close in your refusal to give into all the stimulation, but you find that they only brush against your doctor’s as he stands between them.

“Are you ready?” Yosuke whispers in your ear. You can’t much bring yourself to answer, though your doctor hardly wastes more time. “Wrap your arms around me, pet. Hold onto me as I take you.”

Your eyes open wearily. You turn your head toward Yosuke, and find that he’s already got his eyes locked onto yours. With a gentle smile, he presses the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing at it. Your hands tremble, but you follow your doctor’s order and slowly bring them both up toward his shoulders, then wrap your arms around his neck. Your grip is loose, but your fingers curl and dig into the fabric of his shirt as you feel Yosuke’s cock slide down just a bit.

With one last kiss of your cheek, your doctor finally pushes past your folds and into your wet pussy. As promised, he goes slow, and so the tip of his dick glides in carefully. Your doctor gives a breath of pleasure as he enters you, his hands firmly pressed into the mattress as he pushes further.

Your grip on his neck tightens a bit as you take more of his shaft and feel his tip pressing through the walls of your pussy. A heavy gasp escapes you, the hot air from your mouth hitting against Yosuke’s ear. He chuckles between his own concentrated breaths, but says nothing further. His focus remains on pressing into you fully, and making you take all of his cock. However, he does stop a moment to ask,

“Does it hurt?”

“No!” You sigh. Your doctor’s entry comes with a bit of pressure, but it feels phenomenal with how wet you are. In all honesty, were you not holding onto him already, you might have clung to the man on your own in desperation.

Yosuke delights in your reaction and continues on. After a moment of his slow entrance, he finally stops and lets out a light breath.

“It’s in,” he murmurs in your ear. “Are you comfortable, my dear?”

“I don’t know…!” Giving an answer continues to prove difficult. You feel full, and the pressing of Yosuke’s body against yours is only titillating you. Admitting this would be heinous. But as ever, your doctor is able to decipher your flushed face and girlish whimpers well enough to know that your body is eager.

Without teasing you further, he starts to pull his body back before pushing it into you again. His movements start slow, as if he’s attempting to build up the later speed you know he’ll eventually reach. Each burying pump of his cock into you causes more sighs and light moans to leave your mouth and trail into the air. The skin of your doctor’s legs and crotch brush against you with each thrust, and the heat of his concentrated breaths hits against your ear and neck.

Your eyes wearily trail to the ceiling as the pleasure slowly starts to build, and your tight grip on Yosuke does not once let up. As the man gets fully into the motion of fucking you again after so long of going without, he brings one arm under your torso and holds you close to him, relying solely on his other arm to steady himself.

Yosuke doesn’t bother to speak anymore as he concentrates on his thrusts into your pussy. His pace soon picks up, and all he can muster is a series of soft groans and pants into your ear. Once in a while, he stops to give the outer folds of your ear a sweet lick before moving down to nip at your earlobe again. Each time he does it, you can’t help but shudder pleasurably and sigh in response.

It’s been a while since anyone took their time with you. It’s difficult to accept that your doctor of all people would take things slow and ease you back into this, but you’re admittedly glad he didn’t just lose control at having you again. All things considered, he’s been restrained. You’re not sure if that will last.

“Ngh!” A grunt escapes your throat the more you’re ridden. Yosuke’s constant thrusting and pumping of his cock into your body leaves your pussy feeling plenty full. Coupled with the grinding of his crotch against yours and the subsequent stimulation of your clit, it’s almost too much to bear.

Your legs, once desperate to close, now go limp as they hang off the edge of the bed, consequently spreading wide open as if giving up their fight. Yosuke has full access to you, and he takes advantage of this fact without mercy. More lusty pants and groans of his ring into your ear. As Yosuke takes you, he holds you ever tighter against him. In turn, you can’t help but hold onto him tightly and let out a series of whimpers and whines.

Finally, your doctor gives a chuckle between his panting. “It’s heavenly how tightly you’re wrapping around my cock. I’ve missed your warmth dearly.”

He pauses to breathe and grunt between powerful thrusts before continuing on. “I’ll be filling my sweet pet with my own warmth in just a moment. But I’ll wait for you. I want you to come with me like a good girl.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk to me like that!” you gasp as Yosuke pumps deeply into you. Yosuke merely laughs.

“Oh pet, you know how I am with you.”

Another whine escapes your throat as Yosuke refuses to let up his powerful thrusts. This only causes his upper body to pull back a bit so that he can look at you. His proximity is dizzying, but you can’t precisely ignore him. Your doctor’s olive eyes assess you in the midst of his wild pants, the breaths of which now hit at your face.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you, my pet?” He teases. You shift your eyes away, but are unable to avoid Yosuke when his lips then crash onto yours. As his breaths now expel from his nose, your whines and whimpers reverberate into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn with how much you’re left blushing beneath your doctor. You hate the attention he’s giving you, but your body refuses to fight it anymore. You want to come, and Yosuke knows this well. He holds you tighter as he works his body with yours. Though he started sweetly, by now you can tell the man has become rather lusty at being given the chance to fuck you again. This is something he’s been holding out for since you returned. His thrusts are more eager and far stronger than they were when he began.

Yosuke sucks in your lips wetly, forcing his kisses upon you with aggression. He lets out a series of throated grunts with each pump of his cock into your sopping pussy, the squelching noises filling the air as he takes you.

When next your doctor pulls back, you wearily call out,

“Yosuke…”

You know you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it. Your pussy is practically gulping up the man’s cock with how greedy you are for an orgasm. You’re on the brink now. And judging by the way your doctor’s cock is pulsing eagerly inside of you, he’s ready to let go too. Without fail, that spark of lust wells in you, causing your body to grind against Yosuke eagerly. Your head hangs back as you let out a loud throated cry into the air. With one powerful thrust and groan, Yosuke fills you plentily with his thick load of cum, letting the warmth of it spill into you.

The man’s powerful pumping pace only pauses for a moment, though he quickly continues to grind sweetly against your body as he dribbles more of his seed into you. Yosuke holds your body ever closer, letting you sing such lusty noises into his ear further while he finishes up.

Eventually, your doctor’s thrusts slow to a halt, though he stays inside you as he gives a series of slow, heavy pants in recovery. Your own orgasm ends, the irrational lust you felt finally ebbing now that it’s been satisfied.

Yosuke lowers your body onto the bed and retracts his arm. He watches your red face with a quiet intrigue. Pleasured by your response, he brings his hand to your chin and grips it gently. His thumb slides against your lips and into your mouth, resting on your wet tongue. Yosuke merely watches with a smile as he toys with the thing, rubbing and pressing at it while you continue to breathe in through your mouth. Wanting to avoid the man’s gaze, you merely look past him at the ceiling again. No words escape you.

“What a precious face you make when you come,” Yosuke coos. “And your noises are every bit as cute as I remember.”

He leans into your ear. “You have no idea just how much I want to keep defiling your precious body, my pet. I would go on for a while if I could.”

Your eyes widen as you nervously take in these words. Your arms stop gripping your doctor, though your hands drop and remain on his shoulders. Yosuke’s thumb presses again against your tongue, the base rubbing against your lips all the while. Despite the unnerving threat of being used more, Yosuke gives a bit of a soft chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he assures you with a sweet tone. “I shouldn’t be so hard on your body. But perhaps this will ease you into whatever tomorrow brings. If Micah does intend to see you, he’ll be a bit rougher even knowing how weak you’ve become. He’s a bit unrestrained that way. Young men like him have no discipline.”

Your eyebrows lower as you give a light scowl. He’s speaking as if he isn’t capable of being unhinged himself. Is he really trying to ignore it?

“Now pet, don’t give me that look,” he warns, then retracting his thumb from your mouth and leaving your chin alone. “Shall I proceed anyway? I don’t think you’d like that.”

He trails his fingers along your neck all the way down to your lower abdomen, his eyes following each area he glides past. Your fingers curl tightly around the man’s shirt in response.

“Perhaps you would, given how sweetly you responded to being toyed with by me again. I’m sure your body missed this kind of thing. Even now I can see how shallow your breaths are, pet.”

“I told you it’s just been a while,” you remind him in embarrassment, your eyes shifting away. “Please get out of me.”

You’re all too aware of his semen inside your body now that you’ve come down from all the pleasure and can fully focus.

You’ll be fine, you try to remind yourself. Are you going to have to do this for yourself after every visit? It’d be far too taxing. Perhaps eventually you’ll just take it without issue. Your worry about impregnation is hardly alleviated anyway when you’re still at risk of bleeding sometime. From what Monica said, it’s not like you can avoid it. Yosuke will find out, and you’ll have to fight hard to keep him from getting antsy about impregnating you. Right now, it’s weird just putting up with his wants and submitting to them. But that’s doable. The real test will probably come later.

Yosuke’s fingers linger a little too long upon your abdomen than you’d like. Your eyes flicker down to his hand between both of your bodies, though your doctor appears too distracted by his touch of you to notice.

“Did Monica assess you properly when she saw you?” He asks lowly. You grit your teeth as the pads of his fingers gently rub at your flesh.

“Stop that,” you beg, furious that he brought it up after all. “You know I hate it. Why are you still so adamant about that when you won’t even get to see a real child? You said you wanted to be a father. This is a sorry place to want that in.”

“I know it’s rather unrealistic,” Yosuke admits, though his smile remains plastered on his face. His olive eyes continue to fixate on his sweet petting of your abdomen. “You know very well why I want it now. And like I told you all that time ago, I know the idea of being a parent isn’t feasible here. ‘A pipe dream’, I believe were my exact words. I know what I must sacrifice to work here.”

“And what if I’m the one sacrificed because of it?” You demand. “You lost yourself with what time I spent away from you. Do you want to tell me you’ll still be fine without me?”

Your doctor’s olive eyes then flicker back toward your face. He pauses his sweet stroking motions on your abdomen.

“Are you concerned?”

“I’m confused. You contradict yourself far too much.”

Yosuke chuckles and finally starts to move his body slowly out of you, his retraction making your hands drop from his shoulders and back onto the bed. The sensation of his pulling out making you exert another light whimper.

“As do you, my pet,” Yosuke teases upon seeing your flustered reaction. “You didn’t have to push into me. You didn’t have to come from all the things I’ve done to you. But you did.”

The wetness between your legs spills out of your pussy slightly once your doctor’s cock has left it.

“You do want more, Ten. But I think we’re done here,” your doctor notes. He smirks a bit at the sight of his cum inside of you.

“Don’t act like you can restrain yourself. I know how you are,” you spit back. “You even just admitted what you want.”

Yosuke gives only a small frown. “I suppose I will get rather lusty over you again. But do think of tonight as me breaking the ice, since it’s been so long. In any case, if you don’t rile me up, perhaps I might be fine.”

You scowl. “You’re saying this is my fault?!”

“I’m not saying anything, Ten. Do relax.” Yosuke then smiles again. “Though, it’s nice to see that prior biting spirit return to your pretty eyes. You are precious when you’re mad.”

He then reaches down to pull up his pants, which have by now fallen. “Do wait here a moment. I’ll come clean you up before I tuck you into bed, my pet. I’m sure you’re in no mood for a lengthy shower.”

“I suppose you’ll be sleeping here tonight too?” You remain bitter. Yosuke gives a soft laugh.

“Yes, but I can’t afford to make it as regular a habit after this,” he says. Your doctor then gives a slight tilt of his head, his voice sweetening up in a playful manner. “Why? Does my pet want me to hold her every night?”

You look away. “No.”

Your legs slowly shut the moment Yosuke steps away from them, the wetness in your now-milky pussy only leaving you all too aware of the cum resting inside of it. You hold onto your arms, but don’t bother to get up, afraid of shifting around too much and being forced to think of all the juices down there.

You’re embarrassed to admit how pleasurable it was to be given a genuine orgasm again. Being with Yosuke isn’t at all emotionally fulfilling, but at least he can make your body feel good. Of course, that’s not an excuse for what he does.

In part, you’d like to go back to Cyrus and Lav to compensate for the awful nature of your sexual encounters with doctors, but you’d hate to rely on them that hard. You’d rather they not think you’re using them just to feel better. Even if they were to offer some kind of a pity fuck, you wouldn’t want to be that selfish.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” you’re told then as Yosuke moves away toward the bathroom. You continue to lay there in agonizing silence, your mind refusing to stop lingering on the reminder of your fertile state. It’s frustrating to say the least. Will you constantly endure visits with the same fear each time? That’s far too much stress to deal with. Evidently it’s hard to ignore the issue, but if you react this way all the time, you’ll end up struggling more than you probably need to. The risk is there, but there’s still a possibility for it to come out positively. Well, as positively as it can in a place like this. Not dying or becoming a worker is a plus, you figure.

As your mind trails away from the thought, you then can’t help but wonder what it’s like aboveground. Is the facility as clean there as this place? Are you beneath a hospital or pharmacy? You can’t imagine the aboveground being big because of how few people you’ve seen working underground, but considering that this Is a tight-knit operation and that The Overseer doesn’t just trust anyone to work here, you probably shouldn’t be surprised if it is bigger out there. If they’re manufacturing drugs, there must be other people working on it. You aren’t sure how many people it takes to produce drugs regularly, but maybe that depends on what scale they’re being produced.

If anything like Red Valentine or Mnemosyne is made aboveground, then do the other workers know what they’re making? If there’s data involved in all that, surely someone would notice that something’s amiss. But maybe they’re just told to follow a set of instructions. You can’t imagine that it’d be hard to slip things by if this place is like some kind of medicinal factory with a massive surplus of common workers.

It all depends on what the place really is or is like. Yosuke’s story about the aboveground has changed so many times that you aren’t sure what to believe. You’d at least believe that they do produce something, if not the drugs used underground. He once said medical supplies, but you’re sure it’s just purely drugs of some sort the more you’re learning what the doctors here do.

Why is The Overseer so adamant on concealing the truth from his subjects anyway? What’s the harm in you knowing what this place is like when you won’t ever get to see it? How intimate with the concept of privacy he is. For someone like you who pines to understand everything, it’s torturous.

In all your thoughts, you neglected to pay attention to your doctor’s whereabouts and are thus promptly shaken back to awareness when you feel the man’s warm hands part your legs. A cold, wet sensation of something being rubbed along your inner thighs soon follows. Your body jumps a bit at the feeling, and when you glance down, you see Yosuke adamantly wiping your lower body clean with careful swipes and dabs, using some wet tissue.

Yosuke smiles slightly to himself as he cleans you up, no doubt aware of the nervous reaction you give when you turn your head away from the sight of his hand between your legs. Despite promising to be done with you, his fingers do linger on your flesh and rub at it playfully, particularly when he reaches your clit.

“Stop that!” you beg. Your arms drop, and you begin clinging to the sheet of the bed. You instinctively try to close your legs again, but your doctor’s arm prevents it. “You said you were done.”

“I am,” is your doctor’s playful response. He circles your clit one more time before pulling away. “But I adore your reactions, my pet. I assumed you already knew that. Are you sure you remember me?”

“I remember you,” is your blunt affirmation. “I would say I wish I didn’t, but that’d only mean I’d have to learn to suffer all over again.”

You notice Yosuke pause and give you an unusually surprised look, his brows partly raised and his lips parted. This makes you even more uneasy—did you just give him an idea? Did you spark another disgusting interest in his mind? What a fat mouth you have sometimes.

Yosuke’s look of slight surprise turns to another smiling one as his lips close and again curve. His olive eyes remain on your face, something you can’t help but notice from the corner of your own eye.

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” he muses while continuing on with his cleaning of your crotch. “I will say, you were rather delightful as an innocent plaything. Even when you only pretend to be just to appease me and get through our time together, I still find it precious.”

You scorn yourself for giving the man an image for him to mentally jerk himself off to. You should be more careful with him knowing that he could do something drastic again. Even if it isn’t under the watchful eye of his superior, you know he’s capable of being stupid like Mom. He’s prone to error. That’s not an image of your doctor that ever emerged before because you were so afraid of him. You could bite at him about it, but Yosuke would likely say he and you are both the same, and you don’t want to do that song and dance with him.

Once you’re cleaned off, Yosuke puts aside the used tissue to discard later and instead helps you put your underwear back on. He goes to collect both your gown and panties from the floor, then goes back to you to start dressing your body. As he pulls the fabric of your underwear up, his hands brush delicately along the skin at your hips, the sensation making your cheeks a bit red.

Once this is done, Yosuke extends a hand toward you, which you take to allow him to help your body up. The movement after laying down for a while is quite dizzying, you find, but Yosuke’s hand doesn’t leave yours until he’s certain you’re fine. After you give a quick “I’m alright” in confirmation, your doctor takes your gown next and moves to dress you in it. Without him having to ask, you extend your arms up and out to allow Yosuke to do this.

“Do the other doctors make fun of you for liking the things you do?” You ask curiously. “You seem to like this whole ‘taking care of me’ thing. Someone like Micah or Lilah hate it, apparently.”

“Our lot does have squabbles and teases now and again, yes,” Yosuke remarks rather unhappily as he tugs the hem of your gown down your body. “We don’t particularly line up our interests all the time, but we do come together for our jobs. Such is the nature of our work. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise to know that some of the other doctors slightly judge their peers for their interests.”

“Like Sven and Micah,” you scoff. Yosuke nods. “But why all these fights to begin with?”

“Well, it all depends on many things, Ten,” Your doctor replies, then waving his hand about. “Those two for instance fight over things that don’t matter purely because they don’t like one another. I’ve no business in their affairs, so I hardly know. Nor do I fully know why your mother fights with most every woman she meets beyond having to wager that it’s jealousy or spite.”

“Do Jonathan and Nathaniel ever fight?”

“I have never seen them fight, but I presume they like keeping up appearances, so they don’t disagree before others.”

You frown and look down at your hands which have now dropped to your lap. “Do you ever fight with anyone?”

“Other than your mother, you mean?” Yosuke supposes what you’re referring to. “I prefer not to start trouble, no. In that instance, I felt a bit defensive thanks to her behavior. I didn’t like seeing you get hurt by her. She tends to let her obsessions get a bit out of hand.”

“Sounds familiar,” you mutter. This only makes your doctor expel a breath of laughter and reach up to stroke the top of your head. His hand lingers atop it, much to your disdain.

“Oh, pet,” he croons. “You still really think I am that much like your mother? No, I am capable of restraining myself too. I simply let myself slip once, and that was enough for you to make your assumption.”

He frowns then. “Dear, I am sorry my actions cost us both. I never wanted my superior to hurt you.”

You huff a bit of breath from your nostrils and shrug. “Yeah, well, he seems to think I’m at fault too. He said it was a punishment for both of us.”

Your doctor’s brow raises. “Why?”

“That girl I was supposed to leave behind? I wouldn’t.” You remain firm. “I didn’t want to forget her despite being told to. Your boss didn’t like it.”

“I see no reason for that man to have been as hard on you as he was for just that,” Yosuke remarks pointedly. “He shouldn’t have.”

You take note of the slight flickering of rage in your doctor’s eyes, one he can’t do anything about given his position beneath The Overseer. Urged to quell him, you call out your doctor’s name softly. As if shaken by the sudden sound of your tender voice, Yosuke’s tense expression softens, and he again looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be the one taking care of you from now on,” he says sweetly. His hand slides from your head and down your cheek, ultimately landing under your chin and cupping it tenderly. “You are so very sensitive, pet. Delicate in all manner of ways, as you very well remember me mentioning. You need my care.”

You say nothing, but the pouting lip and the slight scowl you give him only causes the man to peck at you further. He subtly grins in delight, the attention toward initial frustration now fully distracted by you.

“What if I were to make your name Rose permanently when you’re with me? Would you fight back against it?”

This suggestion is no more than an embittering nuisance. A name is a name, but knowing that Yosuke would use it to keep a strong grip on you is unsettling.

“I would very much despise it,” you tell him with an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. Despite the bluntness of your words, your nervous eyes betray you. Yosuke can tell your attempt at putting up a fight against the idea is a cover for the pit in your stomach the suggestion created. “I don’t see why you’re so attached to the name anyway.”

“You should be grateful I have allowed you to keep using your Number with me,” your doctor remarks. “I prefer the name Rose, simply.”

“I hope it’s not my real name,” you grumble. “I can’t imagine you’d be that uninspired.”

“What name would you prefer if you could choose one of your own?”

“My Number suits me just fine.”

Yosuke chortles at this remark, then drops his hand from you. “Really? Long ago you might have fought diligently against the idea of being a mere number by name. Are you coming to accept certain things about this place finally?”

“I guess.” Your voice remains low as you become distracted by the memory of watching your own video feed back in the other room. Your mind focuses again on the list of names The Overseer had given you, but you can’t really remember what they were. You’d been so frightened then that it wasn’t easy to concentrate on littler details like that.

The Overseer had asked you to recite those names yourself from what you saw. Even hearing them from your own lips hadn’t yielded any significant surfacing of memories. What baffles you is why The Overseer even gave you that list to begin with. Knowing what you know now about Mnemosyne and the nature of all the prisoners’ confinement here, you guess that it had something to do with testing your memory.

Your lip trembles slightly in response to the unsettling idea of the possibility that those names belonged to people you knew. Not wanting to let Yosuke see the unnerved reaction, you press your lips together tightly to quell the involuntary trembling, but the sudden though genuinely leaves your heart sinking. You’re not quite sure if you want to cry, but were you not before Yosuke, you might have started to just to let go of that sinking feeling and allow it to run its course.

Your doctor notices this expression rather quickly, and he slightly frowns.

“Dear, are you alright?” He asks with concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

This puts you in a difficult position. You can’t say “nothing” because doing so would be a lie. You’re in no mood to challenge your doctor with lies right now. He’ll persist in trying to learn what’s on your mind, you know. Instead, you opt to distract him. You lean forward and wrap your arms around his lower torso, then proceed to hide your face by burying it in your doctor’s shirt. This is admittedly only a partial act, though. You do feel rather frustrated and find that holding onto something, even if it is Yosuke, is better than sitting there by yourself.

“Please don’t call me Rose.” You shorten all your concerns into one begging request. Your voice remains low and weary. “…Please. If you really care about me, then don’t hurt me so much. I hate that name.”

Your heart skips a beat when your doctor’s hand is felt next upon your head. You aren’t sure how he’ll take this reaction of yours. You only acted this way to avoid his question. His profile is out of view now that your face is buried into his shirt.

“It’s only a name, my pet,” he murmurs, starting to stroke the top of your head now with a gentle touch. “A pretty name that I like for you. But I’ll be kind and drop it for tonight, if it upsets you that much. You know I want to be a little softer with you during your adjustment to being here again.”

Naturally, he’s insistent about the things he does to you. You expected no less. In any case, perhaps Yosuke genuinely got concerned over your reaction enough for him to completely ignore his other question. Is it really that easy to manipulate him? Or is he one step ahead of you? It’s hard to really tell with this man. But if appeasing him means trickery, so be it. That might actually make you feel a little better, really. He’s a mere man, one as susceptible to manipulation as you are. He’d always seemed so wicked and impossible to move. But you’re his weakness, it seems.

Granted, you’d tried being babyish with him before, but he’d always caught onto it. Why is this different? You figure Yosuke must still be reeling from being without you for so long. This only makes you worried about the possibility that his demeanor now is only a softened version of what he really is. If he doesn’t catch onto your intent now, he will probably catch on later, provided this possibility is true. Even so, Yosuke’s uncovering of everything is probably inevitable anyway. What worries you most is what he’ll do. Take advantage of you, in short. That’s a given. But anything else, you aren’t sure.

However, you think that the man would be perfectly happy with an artificial submission from you, even if he’d still prefer the real thing. He’ll no doubt keep fighting to make you want him even a little, but he’s seemed to accept knowing that you’re not one hundred percent honest about how you respond to him when you choose to be what he wants in specific instances. So long as you don’t anger Yosuke by making it obvious you want others who aren’t him, he’ll be content, right? The only problem is putting up with his behavior.

“Ten,” you’re called. Yosuke’s voice ringing out causes you to pick up your head and look up at your doctor. When you finally can see his face again, you notice that it’s again in a calm, pleased state. Yosuke’s lips are closed and slightly curved in a smile, and his olive eyes are focused, but look upon you with a tenderness that is moreso unnerving than it is comforting right now. He hasn’t even bothered to put his glasses back on, so every bit of his expression is fully visible.

“You should lay down,” he tells you gently. “I’m sure your body must be a little tired after being played with.”

Your knees press together at the reminder of the sensation of Yosuke’s tongue, fingers, and cock thrusting and rubbing inside you.

“A little,” you admit with a tomato red face. Yosuke gives a bit of a chuckle at your flushed response and leans down to kiss your forehead gently.

“Come on,” he urges with a calm, kind voice. “One more sweet night together, alright?”

Sweet…what a joke. Though, you’d prefer Yosuke be tender with you than aggressive and forward, even if your body responds to either method at times. His lustier or angrier moods have always been difficult to engage with. You wonder if it’ll be so easy to calm him by pretending to be loving when he’s at his worst. Like you mulled over just a minute ago, he could just be reeling from having lost you and is just not quite at his best. It’s been pretty easy to be babyish like he wants you to be and have him forget his troubles if only temporarily. But, on the other hand, it could also just be his genuine attachment to you that’s leaving him so susceptible to even small gestures. It’s hard to really tell. You aren’t sure what to think.

Nonetheless, you obediently nod and drop your arms from around Yosuke’s body. He leaves to discard the tissue he’d cleaned you with, then comes back to pull the top of the comforter down from the top of your bed and under your pillow. When he returns to his earlier position before you, he then attempts to get you in bed. Although it pains you to do it, you allow your doctor to gently cradle your back in one hand and lift your knees up so that he can shift you onto the bed and help you lie back. Once you’re in position along the bed, Yosuke tugs the comforter over your legs. Before bothering to undress himself as he did last time, your doctor leans in over your torso, steadying his body with both hands against the bedsheet.

His face hovers over yours, and you shut your eyes in anticipation for a kiss. However, it doesn’t immediately come. You can feel Yosuke’s warmth lingering just above you, paused there as if in waiting. When you find the courage to raise your eyelids just a bit, Yosuke’s face fills your view. His eyes are enamored in a tender olive gaze, and his head is slightly tilted as he had fully intended to start kissing you. He’s so close that you can practically feel his lips against yours already despite neither of you touching one another. When Yosuke catches you looking his way, he smiles playfully.

“You’re an anticipant little girl,” he remarks sweetly. “You dislike my tendency to move in on you and yet still fully prepare yourself for my lips. How cute.”

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Yosuke finishes what he started by leaning further in to peck preciously at your lips. He gives a throated chuckle upon seeing you turn away from him afterward. Yosuke’s moving back into his old ways fairly quickly, even if he’s still adjusting to his old personality. You’ve always disliked his little games, but you don’t bother to bark back about it this time. You are genuinely pining for some sleep after all the exercise and pleasure, and the sooner you do, the sooner tomorrow will come.

Your doctor finally moves back up and starts to undress himself again. You don’t look at him this time.

As you know he wants, you turn over and snuggle close to Yosuke when he climbs into your bed. Doing it feels like you’re wading through pudding because of how little you want to do this, because of how much you have to force your limbs to contort the way you know they need to. But you suppose cooperating is just easier right now. Yosuke seems all too pleased that you’re giving in like this, something you can tell by the way he’s smiling at and watching you. He takes his arm and again wraps it around your body, holding you close to his.

Yosuke’s usual musk is a bit more powerful after he’s exerted his body a bit, something you can smell more clearly now that you’re so close against him. Even so, it’s not an unfamiliar or overall disgusting smell. If anything, you’re just noticing it more than usual.

“I appreciate you being a good girl for me, Ten,” your doctor chimes in from above your head as he places it atop your scalp. Your face remains fixated on the thin cloth over his chest, your eyes heavy with a glowering defeat. You hate cozying up to him like this, and especially hate that he’s teasing you about it.

“I’m sure you’re not doing it because you want to,” your doctor remarks with accuracy, but without attempting to know why. “But I still adore the way you look when you give in. You are very precious to me, you know.”

He softly laughs then, the vibrations in his chest humming against what bit of skin you have pressed against his chest.

“You know that I love you, pet. Don’t you?”

You scowl. “You need me.”

“I do,” Yosuke does not challenge the idea, his voice soft and sweet. “I love you, and I need you.”

His arms close and hold you more tightly against him. “I won’t let you go. Not again.”

Although you say it with a pitiful tone, your defeated response of “I know you won’t” only makes Yosuke expel a bit of amused breath through his nose. You aren’t sure how he took your meaning since he doesn’t respond to the remark after it’s been made.

“You’ll be going back soon,” he instead opts to say. “It’s what you wanted, right? You should be smiling.”

You’re the one who remains in silence this time. Frustration wells in your chest, but you keep your mouth shut and, in turn, shut your eyes. Hoping to quiet your doctor, you nudge yourself further into his chest and try to get yourself to sleep. This gesture amuses the man, though he at least does stay quiet.

With the conversation drawing to a close, you spend one more night with Yosuke, wrapped up in his warmth and in his arms. It’s odd to you how quickly he falls asleep when you remember him saying something about chronic restlessness before. How odd that you have so much of an effect on your doctor that even this issue gets quelled by your presence.

Yosuke’s mention of needing you is no less disturbing than his mention of loving you. You’re quite sure he only said it to confuse you. There’s no way he’s dependent on something that’s intended to be disposable in a place like this.

You huff a bit of breath tiredly through your nose as the thought of Jade and her doctor surfaces again. You can’t let Yosuke get that way. Though you refuse to believe he’s genuinely dependent on you, it is possible he’d be rash enough to do something out of line again if he lets himself become too crazy. It’s worrying that he did what he did, and even more worrying that the time you’ve spent with him these past two days has shown that Yosuke hasn’t much changed since then.

Regardless of your worries, what’s happening now is all you can focus on. Yosuke was right when he said you should be smiling. You are more than eager to see everyone again. The only problem is that you’ll definitely have to face Mom and Monica first, though you don’t much linger on the grueling thought long.

A wave of exhaustion eventually blankets you as you lay wrapped up in your doctor’s warmth. You do nothing more than rely on the slow, steady rhythm of Yosuke’s breathing to lull you into a gradual slumber.

Chapter 71: Rest Twenty Eight - Boy

Your lungs burn as you run down the long dim hall from your room, passing doors without a second thought. There’s a sense of looming terror behind you, but for some reason it’s hard to remember just why. Are you being chased? How did you even end up here?

It doesn’t matter. As you press onward with your feet hitting hard against the cold floor, the only thought on your mind is getting out of here. Nothing else matters.

You remember which way an exit is. The way to the basement is so close to you and yet so hard to get to without a way to open the doors at the end of your hall. But strangely, upon reaching this end, you find that the double doors are wide open as if in invitation, as if beckoning you to come through them. You don’t bother to stop and mull over whether this is some kind of trap. All you want now is a taste of freedom.

Air gets fiercefuly sucked into and expelled from your mouth as you attempt to keep up with breathing. It’s becoming hard to keep moving forward the more your lungs burn and legs ache. This Is only worsened by the long stretch of hall that extends from the door you’ve just entered.

Looking at the hall now, you realize how much you underestimated its length. You can’t even see the crossroads from where you’re at now, but you’re so close to the exit at this point that all there is to do is press forward. You can’t waste time. You can’t—

Wait! A voice in your head rings out. We have to go back for them!

This voice causes you to stop in your tracks, your heels sliding across the floor just a bit as you grind to a halt. With wide eyes, you turn your body back toward the door from before, but there’s nobody behind you. Expectantly, you await a figure to emerge from around the corner, but none does.

You should go back. You have to. Why did you try leaving on your own to begin with? You can’t even remember. You don’t really even know how you got out.

Now urged to return the way you came, you now fully turn around and push forward in that direction. But before you can make it far, a loud bang rings out and echoes in the hall. The sharp, deafening noise stops you in your tracks entirely. Only upon attempting to turn around do you start to feel a pressure in your chest, one that causes your eyes to look down.

The first thing you’re greeted with is a pooling of blood over your rose gown, the sight of which causes your heart to skip a beat. Your eyes widen at the sight of blood spilling out, and your throat closes up. You suddenly can’t breathe. Upon realizing that a gunshot hit you, a scream attempts to escape your throat. Your mouth opens wide, but nothing manages to push out.

With trembling hands, you reach up to your chest while turning your head toward the source of the gunshot sound. Standing in the middle of the hall a few feet away is The Overseer, his cold grey eyes squarely focused on you, and his arm extended out with his signature revolver held tightly in his hand. His grip is so strong that his knuckles are practically white.

Was this who you were running from? You thought he’d been trailing behind you. Did he go around somehow? He had to have been one step ahead.

You were careless.

The Overseer does not once break his focus on you. Even as you crumple to the floor, unable to speak or breathe, his unexpressive, focused eyes only follow your frame. When you look over at him intensely as you lay on the ground, clutching your chest with an iron grip, it finally dawns on you that Lucius is behind his superior, leaning his back against the wall behind The Overseer and to the right. He only side-eyes you while standing casually with crossed arms. When his dark eye meets yours, he gives a knowing smile.

The Overseer’s arm finally drops as he sees your body losing more and more blood, the lot of it spilling out onto the white floor. You remain unable to breathe, unable to even really think. You’re shaking in fright at the uncertainty of what’s happening or why, and all the while your eyes are pooling with tears that begin to stream down ward toward the floor, even passing over your nose and cheek since you’re laying down.

Your eyes squeeze shut, and it’s only then that you come into awareness and notice that your doctor is attempting to wake you from your nightmare. When your watery eyes open, the familiar colors of his visage can be seen through the tears. You blink a few times to get them out of your vision, and once you do the image of Yosuke fully clears up.

Shaken awake now, you notice that your chest is heaving in breaths, and your mouth is now slightly agape for some reason. In your frightful nightmare, you’d even clutched Yosuke’s arm by your head with one hand. This arm is what he’s using to steady himself as he hovers over your body on the bed. Your other arm, you find, is outstretched on the mattress, with your hand tightly gripping the sheets.

Yosuke’s free hand cups your cheek, and you hear him call to you desperately. You’re still far too frazzled to think straight enough to comprehend what he’s saying, but you can tell by his worried tone that he’s asking if you’re alright.

Shakily, your outstretched hand releases the sheets and comes up to your chest. You grip the fabric of your gown tightly while assessing whether or not you were really shot. Your eyes flicker down in a panic. You wholly expect to see blood, but there’s nothing.

“Ten.” Finally, you hear Yosuke’s voice clearly, though it’s calmed down a bit as he catches you fully awakened. “Ten are you alright?”

“I…” you mumble wearily. You aren’t sure what to say. “I’m alive…?”

Yosuke, whom you notice is now fully dressed and is now donning his white coat, gives a light, worried frown as he assesses you.

“You’re alive and safe,” he promises. “Dear, you were crying in your sleep. You stopped breathing for a moment.”

His hand then turns over, and Yosuke sweetly wipes away your tears which have by now wettened his palm.

“You scared me.”

Your fingers curl tighter around his other wrist, though your hands both continue to quake slightly.

“I didn’t want my first dream to be a nightmare,” you continue to mumble, expressing your grievances instead of merely thinking them to yourself.

“Have you not dreamt, darling?” Yosuke questions, his voice now softened and lowered as he lulls you back into awareness. You merely give a slow shake of your head in response. This causes your doctor to expel a dissatisfied breath through his nose.

“Well, you’re safe now,” he again assures you, moving his hand then to the top of your head and petting you gently. His finger stroke back and forth along your hair. “Though, it seems you only started to have such a wild nightmare once I left the bed. I was only gone a moment to dress and collect papers, you know.”

He then gives an endearing smile. “Does my sweet pet need me to keep the monsters away?”

Your eyes shift to the side. Nothing like a bit of discomforting coddles courtesy of your doctor to really take you out of the fear of being shot in your dream. As it is, your heart’s still beating a bit wildly. What irks you even more is that Yosuke dares to ask such a question as if you don’t think of him as a monster too.

“No.”

Putting aside the awkward statement, you do start to feel glad that Micah wasn’t what you awoke to after having such an unsettling dream. It felt genuine, if perhaps less so than the one you had of Lucius pointing a gun at you. You’re sure that imagery wasn’t unfamiliar. This, however, was most certainly something pulled from your wild imagination. You do greatly fear The Overseer despite knowing how to act obediently to him. As for the running away, you’re not sure why you dreamt of doing so alone. You’d never leave anyone behind if you could even attempt to escape this place.

“’No’?” Yosuke teases, leaning in to give your cheek a sweet peck. “I’m sure you don’t mean that. What was your nightmare about, anyway?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you remain firm, clutching your gown tighter as the unease of dreaming about The Overseer shooting you continues to leave a horrid impression in your mind. Yosuke’s attempting to console you is nothing like when you had another horrible dream after your shot. Cyrus and Lav both comforted you then. Yosuke can’t do the same. Not the way they can.

You then opt to change the subject. “Is it morning?”

“Yes, dear,” Yosuke gives a nod. You blush as he continues petting you. “I’ll be dropping you off rather early since I have things to tend to right away. I was told to get moving as soon as possible. But perhaps having some time before everyone shows up will give you a chance to get reacquainted with being back in the recreational areas.”

He then stops petting your head and pushes off the bed. Your hand slips from his arm until it reaches his hand, and he cups yours gently so that he can help you sit up. Rising from the bed does help ground you back into reality, at least. Once you’re up, you wipe the moistness from the leftover tears off your cheeks and glance over at the desk, half expecting to see more food. There’s nothing there this time but a page atop a clipboard. You presume it’s what Yosuke had brought when he assessed you a little while ago.

“No breakfast in bed?” You fakely criticize the man. Getting back into focusing on what’s happening now does help calm your nerves a bit. “I’m shocked.”

Yosuke chuckles. “Ah, you know well I’d love to feed my pet a full breakfast. But as I said, I need to get going. You’ll just have to be a good girl and promise me to eat well on your own.”

He then outstretches his hand to you.

“Come on. Let’s at least get your hair and teeth taken care of, dear.”

You give the man your hand and allow him to stand you up next. Once you’re up, you’re led back to your bathroom where Yosuke starts to brush your hair like he has before. Each passing glance of yourself in the mirror as your doctor tenderly glides the hairbrush along your ends and scalp only leaves you feeling out of place. At the very least, you don’t look as terrible as you did when first coming back here, but things do still seem out of sorts. You’re hoping not to look so skinny later on.

Next, your eyes trail down to your chest, again in hope of confirming that you’re really okay after such a shaking nightmare. Maybe you still are reeling from almost dying by the hands of The Overseer, or perhaps you’re afraid of the consequence of attempting to run. You remember mulling the idea over a few times between now and when you first awoke from being anesthetized by Lucius.

“Are you alright, Ten?” Your doctor questions when he catches sight of your concentrated gaze. Your eyes meet his in the mirror then, but you only give a slight nod. Yosuke then puts your brush down and turns you to face him. As he starts to prepare a toothbrush for your teeth, he adds,

“Whatever it is you’ve dreamt of, it’s no longer a threat to you. You’re here with me now. So, don’t worry your head so much about it anymore, alright?”

You remain quiet as the man proceeds to tilt your head back by holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Though you begrudge doing so, you open your mouth obediently and without protesting in order to allow Yosuke to do what he’s intending.

Your doctor has no idea just how wrong he is, but it’s far beyond you to bother explaining why. He doesn’t need to comfort you emotionally. You don’t want him to take advantage of your being so open with him that way. You’ve already admitted he has only but to take care of your body, and that’s as far as you’ll let it go. Admittedly, you do need him to tend to the wounds you no doubt will end up with. You’re going to have to put up with his babying of you in order to get that care, but it’s not like you haven’t already been babied enough. You can handle it, you’ll just be embarrassed the entire time.

The both of you remain silent as Yosuke delicately scrubs at your teeth and tongue, his olive eyes fixated purely on his work. You’re in no mood to protest it now, though your eyes avoid your doctor’s all the while he carries out his task.

When the uncomfortable ordeal thankfully ends, Yosuke cleans off your toothbrush in the sink and allows you to spit in it, though his other hand again affixes to your chin afterward. You hardly bother to move from his touch. Eventually, your doctor does finish putting things away and decides to lean in to give your lips a quick peck.

“There,” he coos upon pulling away. Only when he’s had his kiss does he drop his hand from your face. “I wanted your first kiss today to be from me. You understand.”

“Do you think I’m going to be so sweet with the others right away?” You question with a lowering of your brows. You’re utterly wary of the man before you—he’s speaking playfully, but you know his words ring with an undertow of jealousy and possessiveness. Yosuke is assuming that you’re going to immediately seek physical comfort from others. Maybe in time you might, but you haven’t even gotten back to the hall yet. For god’s sake, you have no idea what you’ll even tell everyone much less how to handle them without knowing how they’ll react to seeing you again. Your doctor is much too defensive. He’s not even attempting to hide it now.

“I know very well the type of girl you are, Ten,” Yosuke asserts, though his voice remains calm. “You will utilize who you trust. I know how you feel about the others, especially your mother’s boy and, I suspect, Sven’s Number. I don’t prefer it, you know. But that’s admittedly beyond some of my control. Were it up to me, I would keep you from them.”

He cocks his head to the side a bit and starts to run the back of his hand along your right cheek.

“You have no reason to leave this room, really. I can give you food, water, things to do, and plenty of my cum if you like. I’d give all the affection you could ever want.”

Your doctor smirks a bit when he sees your eyes widen at the mere mention of further confinement.

“But that’s simply not doable,” he then remains focused. “Especially not now that I’m under my superior’s radar. Anyway, I can’t precisely interfere in your off time unless there’s a good reason to.”

“S-so what, then?” You stammer, failing to hide how much your doctor’s statement has bothered you. Regardless, you attempt to keep up a composed visage if only for your own sake. “Do you let us mingle amongst ourselves out of courtesy? Is it just a privilege?”

Yosuke’s hand trails back up your cheek and toward the top of your head. “If you want to think of it that way, yes. My superior doesn’t much want us messing with you other than in your designated rooms. Variables exist, of course. You’ll come to find that things sometimes just happen a certain way. But for the most part the rules are stagnant.”

Your doctor then tries to smile for you. His hand gently pets the top of your scalp.

“Now enough of that topic. You should perk up, darling. It’s almost time.”

True enough. You won’t linger in that case. You don’t much want to anyway, so you decide to leave. When you try to move away to exit the bathroom so that Yosuke can lead you into the hall, he grabs your arm midway, halting all attempts to move.

“Not yet,” he says, causing you to turn back to him. His smile has dropped to a neutral expression. Yosuke’s hand leaves your arm, though his warm fingers next graze the underside of your chin, teasing at it sweetly.

“Tell me that you’re mine, Ten” he instructs. “Say it out loud.”

You grimace at the order, but don’t bother fighting it. However, your eyes drop down.

“…I’m yours,” you mutter. At your sides, both fists begin to ball, but no moves are attempted toward your doctor.

Yosuke’s lips then curve into a bit of a subtle, but certainly twisted smile. His olive eyes stay perfectly still upon your profile, the light in the restroom reflecting a bit off his glasses.

“And who does your pretty body belong to?”

A huff of breath escapes your nose. The words he’s making you say feel completely foreign leaving your lips. But you know what you have to say to get out of here.

“…You.”

“Look at me, Ten.” Yosuke then tilts your head up further. “Say it in your own words.”

Your eyes flicker to the expectant, coy face of your doctor as he awaits your girlish answer. This is as sickening as his constant unwarranted fucking of you. It’s horrid. But, unable to say no to his request, you give a hard swallow and try to push through the demand.

“My body belongs to you,” is your response. You keep your tone as flat as possible, though feel your lips tremble in frustration as the phrase is said, as if it’s poisonous to speak. Your words pleases the expectant doctor, who watches your struggle with an enamored, tender gaze. He knows you’re not going to fight him right now, and he’s cheekily taking advantage of that fact. You despise it.

“Good girl.” Yosuke’s gives more tender praise, satisfied by the cooperation. His grip on you drops. “You can walk this time, if you so like. Let’s go.”

Your teeth grit in anger at the way he says this, like walking is some kind of a privilege. How horrid his obsession with you has gotten. Now that Yosuke has become more accustomed to being with you again, his true colors are showing once more, if more strongly than you remember. He’s acting the way he did on your “date”. That behavior then was supposed to just be in one instance. Now it’s his new norm.

Nothing more is said to the man as you follow him obediently out of the restroom and toward your bedroom door. That is, until you catch sight of the paper pad on your desk. Upon glimpsing it, you ask to take it to the hall with you. Yosuke eyes the thing a moment from across the room. Only once he realizes he’s forgotten to grab his clipboard does he really agree to take the picture. You suppose he wouldn’t have said yes if he’d remembered to take his paperwork. Though, even with that yes, he doesn’t let you carry the picture on your own.

Yosuke goes to your desk and rips out the sheet with your shoddy attempt at art on it, then folds it neatly into a decently sized square. Though you look on hopefully at the thing, Yosuke tucks the folded page into his coat pocket and takes hold of his clipboard before returning to the door.

“I’m sure you don’t want your mother teasing you about it,” he explains when he catches your upset stare. You doubt that’s the only reason he’s holding it now. “She’ll likely be teasing the both of us plenty once she sees you again, since nobody really knows you’re back yet.”

“Didn’t Micah blab about it to everyone?”

You trail behind Yosuke closely as he escorts you through the hall. Before turning left from your door, your eyes flicker toward the other end. The dream you had resurfaces in your memory. Though, you hardly linger long watching the long stretch of doors before you since Yosuke turns himself a bit and gently touches your shoulder as if urging you to press on.

You only receive an answer from Yosuke once the both of you are back on track.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “It’s possible, but it’s equally possible he’s been too busy to anyway, or that he simply didn’t care to divulge.”

Your eyes drop to the floor, watching at your doctor’s heels as he presses on. “Did he ask for me yet?”

“He likely will today,” you’re bluntly told. “I haven’t seen him because I’ve mostly been with you, but I don’t doubt we’ll cross paths when I head back up. I’ll at least arrange his visit for tomorrow rather than tonight. I want to be fair and allow you the time to spend with the others rather than have Micah interrupt your enjoyment for a visit.”

He goes silent a moment before adding, “Do try not to enjoy it too much, dear.”

“Do you think I will?” You criticize the man. He merely chuckles, shaking from his serious demeanor. You don’t totally buy that he’s being so loose about this, though.

“No, I suppose not,” Yosuke says. “I only know based on things I’ve heard that you’ve been rather responsive to certain kinds of treatment not given by me. I’d rather you only enjoy your time with me. You certainly did last night.”

You bite your tongue, despite the desire to bark back defensively against this remark now burning in your throat.

“I can’t much stop you from seeing anyone,” Yosuke goes on. “I suppose I was more comfortable sharing you before knowing that the others had no interest in you personally. But now…”

He trails off and again goes silent a moment. You already know what he’s driving at, but don’t respond to it. You know Yosuke wants you to himself, a desire that grew the more he got to know his new Number. It bugs you just how much he’s started to relentlessly attack you with babyish pet names and sweet teases even after he said he was trying to get used to the routine again. No, he’s fallen into it quite easily.

To make matters worse, he’s been using such a babyish bit of praise with you when you obey his word. You don’t remember him doing it so regularly, only now and then. His use of such praise only reminds you of Mom even more. Yosuke keeps saying he’s nothing like the woman when he mimics so much of her tendencies. But whereas she lords over others with the visage of motherhood, Yosuke wants desperately to be attached to you in another way.

It’s not something you want to think about, but Yosuke wants you to be his in a way far beyond just being your guardian. Either he wants to fill the role of some kind of dominant man babying his precious pet upon whom he’s placed a leash, or he’s pining to play the role of a darling husband. You grimace thinking of it, but perhaps that makes sense.

While your doctor’s head is turned away, you bring your hand up to your abdomen and feel again for any worrying signs, but luckily there are none. Your heart drops when you start to mull over the possibility that Yosuke really does want to play the role you supposed, as he wants you to play yours. He’d mentioned you being a good bride, he desperately wants to have a child with you, and he’s hellbent on keeping you close. Even if this is all just his desire to be dominant over your body, the behaviors are hard to ignore.

When Yosuke chooses to be kind, it’s always so overbearing. Often, he doesn’t let you lift a finger, and his constant refusal to let you take care of yourself leaves you feeling helpless. He admittedly tries to take care of you when you’re sick or sad, but he simultaneously smothers you with so much physical attention that it’s overwhelming. Your body apparently adores it based on how wildly it reacts to your doctor’s showering you with careful kisses and tender embraces. You, however…

You shake this thought away and instead ponder: why baby you so much if he also wants to hurt you too? Yosuke has had no trouble being firm with you when he disagrees with your actions. He claims that it bothers him, but that it should be him alone disciplining you this way. You can’t wrap your head around it.

He shifts between these two sides of himself so much that it’s hard to make heads or tails of it sometimes. You’ve always struggled with Yosuke, and his incessant, shifting moods only give you whiplash. The only thing you know for certain is that he’s obsessed with you and wants to make you his. He dons many faces to do so—a discipliner, a doctor, a…

You flinch again at the word “husband” lingering in your mind. You couldn’t ever fathom anyone wanting to marry a man like him. Mom seems to be the only person you know that could come close. She adores Yosuke in her own way. And, as it is, they’re so similar. They only had a short fling, but you think your doctor would be better off tailing a woman like her.

What attracts him to you anyway? Mere innocence? Why does he have to get himself off on the idea of corrupting and imprisoning you?

Your frustrating thoughts are fortunately cut off when you realize the familiar crossroads of hallways has almost been reached. The sight of it only makes your heart beat a bit faster as your nervous state rises. Mom and Monica are going to be the last obstacle before you see the others again. Though, having to wait for them to come through the gate so that you can greet them is equally as hard to swallow.

What, should you say, “hi, sorry I was gone but I’m back now”? That seems a bit odd, but you suppose you’ll just have to wing it.

Upon turning the corner toward the gate and the office, your heart jumps. You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you’ve been here, but being able to see the hall again only brings all the memories of this place back into your mind at full capacity. There are both positive and negative associations that you make, but you refuse to linger on all the awful.

Among all the bitter memories of your interactions with other doctors here and all the grueling things you witnessed or went through, better memories of your time with the Numbers shine through. How different they all must be compared to how they were when you first met them. You hope they’re still all okay after losing you.

Three familiar knocks ring in your ear, and your head turns to face the office door which is currently closed. Yosuke’s hand remains in his pants pocket, with his clipboard tucked under his armpit. Only when the top half of the office door opens does he bother to fetch it with his other hand to place on the counter. You instinctively hide behind Yosuke, not wanting anyone to see you right away despite knowing the inevitability. To your dismay, a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Yosuke? What on earth are you doing here?” Mom questions from behind the door. “And so early?”

“I have something for you,” Yosuke answers her without batting an eye. You watch as he pushes the clipboard slightly toward the woman. You peep from behind your doctor to watch Mom’s dumbfounded face look down upon the paper. Seeing her familiar blonde hair and peachy face unsettles you. She’s not at all any different than before, aside from her injuries now having healed completely. Her eye and lip are now as fresh and painted with makeup as they were when you first met her. It almost looks as if she never had her injuries. Though, you figure a faded injury is easier to cover up than a somewhat fresh one.

Only once Mom takes a look at the paper’s contents does it suddenly click for her what’s going on. The sprightly woman’s green eyes widen, and her jaw slightly drops as she realizes why Yosuke’s here. Without skipping a beat, she picks her head up and leans to the side to see you standing hesitantly behind your doctor. The moment her sharp eyes catch sight of you, her plump pink lips widen, and she gives a toothy grin.

“My, my!” She croons loudly, her subtler tone now replaced with the one you are more familiar with. “Is that a pretty little princess I see?”

Without hesitation, she swings open the second half of the door and steps toward you. The beating of your heart increases with her proximity, but you don’t do anything as she cups your cheeks in her hands and pinches them playfully.

“Oh my sweet little girl!” She sighs dramatically while hovering over you incessantly. “Mommy missed you so much!”

“Mom, ow!” You huff at the constant pinching and squeezing of your cheeks, which by now are completely red from both embarrassment and the rough contact. Upon hearing your outcry, Mom finally lets your cheeks go and instead cups the both of them in her hands. You half expect to feel the same roughness against your skin from her stitches that you once remember feeling, but her flesh is smooth to the touch. By now, her hands have completely healed as well.

Mom looks into your eyes with an enamored gaze, though her pink lips pout a bit. “Oh, where has my pretty girl been all this time? You look so thin, my poor baby!”

She then pauses and gives a knowing, tight-lipped smile.

“Well, I thought you were gone for good. But I’m sure you were with you know who, right?”

Your eyes widen a bit. “How do you know?”

“I know how he is,” is Mom’s simple reply, her voice low and soft. “I recognize his work. I figured Yosuke would get hurt one way or another, but I had no idea what kind of trick my boss would pull.”

Mom gives your forehead a quick kiss.

“Oh, poor little girl,” she croons. “But all that’s over, isn’t it? You’re home now. Your cutie doctor is going to take good care of you, I’m sure.”

You shift your gaze away at the second mention of “home”. It’s not like you’ll leave this place, so perhaps the descriptor isn’t wholly inaccurate. But if it is a home, it’s a shitty one.

Mom giggles with a soft girlishness. “My sweet little girl! I can see you blushing. You do have a bit of a radiant glow about you despite how weak you look, now that I think about it. Your cutie doctor’s already broken you in, hasn’t he?”

Yosuke folds his arms. “Did you know about her, mother?”

Mom’s green eyes then flicker to her side, toward your doctor, and she gives a bit of a smirk.

“Yosuke, I told you to be more careful,” she reminds him bluntly. Yosuke remains unmoved, his olive eyes narrowly fixated on the woman’s fresh face.

“Did you know?”

The woman holding your cheeks then lets her hands drop. She gives a sweet, playful giggle and shifts her attention to Yosuke, moving next to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. You merely watch, disturbed as Mom leans against him, tilting her head up and lifting her lips to his ear.

“You went and did a naughty thing, Yosuke,” she coos sweetly. “Do you want to tell her what you did while she was suffering without you?”

“Answer my question.” Your doctor remains firm, unmoved by Mom’s flirtatious gestures. Mom gives a few playful tsks.

“Oh, cutie doctor, don’t play coy now,” she croons even further. “No, I didn’t know. But now I do.”

She grins. “Tell her, now, won’t you? Your little girl should know what mommy and daddy did together.”

You blush and look away from the scene, but note before your eyes leave Yosuke that he looks genuinely furious. His eyes flicker with a raging flame, though his face remains still and unexpressive. It’s frightening.

“I-I get it,” you try to say, not wanting to have to stand here and hear the entire ordeal retold. Regardless, Mom continues to peck at Yosuke. She leans an ear against his shoulder and looks over at you.

“Your doctor was being such a sad little boy,” she mocks him with a babyish tone to her voice. “Mommy had to take care of him while you were gone. Poor thing.”

She giggles once more, her hands dropping to Yosuke’s shoulders. He remains unmoved, but says nothing.

“Are you mad, sweetie?” Mom asks you, her voice laden with coyness. You hold both your arms, discomforted by this conversation but utterly unable to stop it.

“No,” you say. “I don’t care. I’m not even a little surprised.”

“Well, it’s alright now,” Mom continues to push things. “He has you again. Judging by how he isn’t avoiding me like usual, he’s already perked himself right back up.”

Finally bothered enough by the conversation to act, Yosuke unfolds his arms and pushes Mom suddenly away from him, only shoving her enough to make her stumble a few inches backward. Upon being shoved, Mom lets out a series of amused laughs.

“My, Yosuke!” She exclaims with amusement. “What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Yosuke responds sharply. “I have things to do, as do you. Open the gate for her.”

Mom gives a playful frown and places a hand on her cheek.

“Oh cutie doctor, is it over?” She sighs, ignoring the man’s words. “I had fun, you know, Juggling both my cutie boys one after the other. Oh, I’ll miss it!”

You doubt she’s believing what she says. You know Mom—she’ll keep pecking at the man until she has no reason to, or unless something blows up between them again. Likely because of you.

Mom then turns your way and smiles. “Well, at least I’ll have you soon, pretty princess. Mommy will make you feel all better.”

It seems Mom hardly questions that Yosuke will let her see you again. He’s always said he owes her, and if she gave him any inkling of comfort after his losing you, then evidently his debt has only grown. Both you and Yosuke know Mom’s going to get what she wants one way or another. Though it’s nerve-wracking to know she’ll schedule a visit someday, your only solace is knowing that being fucked by her presents no danger to your impregnable state.

Mom’s attention then turns to the office door. Your eyes follow where hers go, and only then do you notice another figure hiding behind the wall right of the office entrance.

“Monica, you can come say hi,” Mom calls out to her associate. Strangely, her tone isn’t nearly as bitter as it has been before. You aren’t sure precisely why. “I know you’re there.”

“O-oh!” a familiar voice rings out from behind the wall. The brown-haired doctor peeps her head out innocently, though a sweet smile paints her lips when she catches sight of everyone. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure I should interrupt!”

“Well, I can’t much blame you for being so eager to see our precious Ten again,” Mom remarks with girlish enthusiasm. “Come say hi!”

You remain wary of this sudden lively response from her to Monica, but continue to say nothing. Desperately, you wish to disappear right now. Being smothered in affection while Yosuke watches bitterly is too much to handle so suddenly. You’re the center of attention against your will, it seems.

Seeing Monica again only causes you to relive every instance of your confinement, and both meetings you had with her. Your jaw slightly drops in response to seeing the woman again, but no words come out. Yosuke watches you knowingly, flickering his eyes between both you and Monica as he watches your interaction. Mom, however, remains blissfully unaware of what connection you and Monica have. Even Yosuke doesn’t know much about what happened, only the general information that you gave him.

Monica places her hands on your shoulders once she approaches you. Her brown eyes look warmly upon your face, and her maroon lips turn into a gentle smile.

“I’m glad to see you again,” she greets with a kindness to her voice. “I was so upset when I found out you’d gone! I thought it was unfair that I just barely got to know you.”

She tilts her head. You watch her closely, noting how well she plays her role. Monica, for as klutzy and naïve as she can be, is very much able to pretend that you never saw one another while you’d been confined.

“Are you alright?” She asks forwardly, a genuine concern painting her words. “Where were you?!”

“I…” you struggle to speak up, your eyes going between Monica, Yosuke, and Mom. All three of them watch you expectantly, for vastly different reasons. When you struggle to speak, Yosuke is the one who answers for you. Again, he folds his arms.

“She was taken away and confined, simply,” he states. “Chained up like an animal, I hear.”

You look over at him worriedly, hoping that he’s not being stupid by divulging what he knows so openly. But you then realize he must know that his response is being monitored right now. Why he’s being open about what he knows baffles you, but perhaps you can only leave him to take care of it.

“Our dear old boss had a few things to say about my behavior, I wager,” Yosuke goes on, his eyes narrowing. You shudder a bit seeing his genuine upset, remembering how he’s acted when mad. However, your doctor keeps his composure and remains subtle in his rage. “I suppose he wanted me to suffer in a way he knew I would.”

His last few words drip with a bitterness. You’re certain he’s saying this aloud as if in commentary to his observing superior.

“Mm, he does have a knack for being so specific with his little punishment games,” Mom remarks with a giggle. “Oh Ten, he chained you up? Did he beat you too? Was he scary?”

She grins. “Did he fuck you?”

Monica frowns a bit. “Well, we don’t have to hear about it, really.”

“Oh hush,” Mom playfully waves her hand and dismisses the woman. “What’s the point of a little suffering If you can’t laugh about it later? Though, that question hardly matters anyway. Our dear boss doesn’t much like people. He’s nowhere near as spirited about the pleasures of flesh as we are.”

Mom’s first remark causes your own fury to rise, but you keep it stifled down so as to avoid any extra attention. You’re already feeling overwhelmed from just this. You knew Mom and Monica would be an obstacle today, but this simply too much.

“Anyway, what matters is that our little girl is here safe,” Mom goes on with a shrug. “I wasn’t expecting her to come back at all, you know.”

“It seems she held out,” Yosuke says somewhat in agreement. His olive eyes fall upon you, instantly quelled upon seeing your face. The rage slightly dissipates. “I’m glad.”

You notice nobody’s brought up Lucius once. Perhaps they don’t think it important despite how present he was during your confinement. Or perhaps they’d rather not talk about a man that their boss is so adamant on protecting.

Monica attempts to remain chipper. Her hands drop from you and she gives a bit of a laugh. “She’s a tough girl, I suppose.”

“Mm, and a cute one at that. Mom glances toward you and gives a smirk. “Monica, you haven’t even had a taste of her yet, have you?”

Monica blushes, and her jovial self returns. “No, I guess not! I don’t want to ask so suddenly, though. I’ll give her a bit of time.”

“You’ve been having visits of your own already?” Yosuke questions her with a bit of surprise. “Since when?”

Monica smiles politely for Yosuke. “A good while ago. I suppose you haven’t been around much to see me and Mamita. Or anyone, really! I’ve been having a few visits with some of the Numbers here. They’re mostly very sweet.”

“And compliant too,” Mom adds with a nod. “And if they misbehave, it’s no trouble to be a little firm with them. It is rather fun, isn’t it?”

She then bites her lip. “Oh, gosh, mommy’s getting a little riled up just thinking about it.”

“Mamita!” Monica laughs happily. “You excite so easily!”

Mom sighs. “I can’t much help it. Besides, you’re no different, are you?”

She then moves toward the woman and leans playfully on Monica’s shoulder. “Now Monica, I think I want to take care of this little itch really quick. There are a few Numbers I know are free and asleep right now. You’ll take good care of the office for me, won’t you?”

You remain flabbergasted by this sweet treatment toward Monica. It has to be some kind of a ruse. Mom’s not bitterly acting toward a woman she once saw as rivalrous anymore. She’s genuinely playing around with her. What’s stranger is that Monica’s fully accepting it. The brown-haired doctor gives a bit of a giggle, her mouth slightly covered when she brings a hand over it.

“Yes, Mamita,” she obediently responds. “Go have your fun. I’ll take over from here.”

“Thank you!” Mom expresses her gratitude before pushing off Monica. She turns to you and Yosuke, giving a coy smile.

“My, Yosuke, your Number looks so flustered,” she teases upon observing your confused expression. “Do treat her right this time, won’t you? I’ll see the both of you later.”

She then looks at you and gives a slight wave. “Have fun today, sweet girl. I’m sure my other little princes and princesses will be over the moon to see you again.”

You watch as Mom starts to go down your hall, though you refuse to watch her enter a room. You’d rather not guess just who she’s going to toy with. Though, you wonder why she’s just able to go wherever she pleases when usually both doctors have to interact and agree upon a visit before it happens. Unless, of course, everyone is open to letting her do this kind of thing. She does run the office, anyway.

You’d imagine getting visits in is difficult for Mom when she’s got to constantly be on standby. Perhaps that’s why she’s tended to see you early or late in the day. Only once did she really call you before the day ended, when she probably had a lapse in her schedule. But naturally, if Mom wants someone, she will find a way to see them regardless.

Once Mom has gone, Monica turns to Yosuke, her maroon smile still intact. Before she speaks, your doctor asks her,

“Has she been acting that way with you long?” Evidently even Yosuke is a bit surprised by the interaction. You dislike sharing that commonality with him, but it can’t be helped. The both of you have been absent from this part of the sector, after all—you suppose it’s called a sector based on the sign you read when Lucius had been escorting you back here.

How odd it feels to refer to this area as such. How many more must there be? One or two? Perhaps even more? You have considered based on what little of the facility you’ve seen that this place isn’t as big as one might think, but you are certain there must be several other sectors as well. There has to at least be two others: one for workers, and one for the Letters. You recall Gale accidentally revealing a feed with people you didn’t recognize back when they first started talking to you in The Overseer’s room. The reality that there are other people here is unshakable. Jay was enough to show you that much. But seeing even more people, even only a glimpse…

“No,” Monica answers without hesitating, her lightly accented voice distracting your thoughts. “She’s been adjusting to me slowly. But it seems her attitude has gotten a bit better since you started fooling around together. You have no idea just how happy she’s been because of it. I’ve been wanting to get closer with her, and this made it that much easier.”

“I remember her being so wicked with you,” Yosuke scoffs. “I’ve been missing a lot, it seems. I’ll catch up eventually.”

“It hasn’t been all that much,” Monica laughs. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but between Mamita and I, I guess we just found something worth talking about.”

Yosuke raises a brow. “Oh?”

“It’s nothing worth troubling the men about.” Monica waves her hand around. “I’m sure you already know anyway.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

Monica blinks in surprise. “No? Oh…well, I thought since you two were so close—”

“We aren’t,” Yosuke remains firm. “Not anymore. And certainly not now that my Number is back.”

His eyes look over toward you, but you don’t reciprocate his gaze whatsoever. Instead, you focus on the floor.

“Well, Mamita said she wanted kids once when she was younger,” Monica admits. She then immediately brings a hand to her lips in embarrassment. “Oh, I shouldn’t gossip, but she really does understand me! I was trying for so long to make her like me. You have no idea how long I had to put up with her being so mean! But I agreed that she gets to be the mom around here. She’s got seniority compared to me. I can’t much compete!”

This takes you aback, as you never considered Mom as someone who genuinely liked the idea of motherhood. You only figured it was such a fetishized concept. Even Yosuke seems to take this news with a bit of confusion. He looks down in thought.

“She never mentioned,” he remarks. “We didn’t get so involved that we divulged all of our secrets to one another, really. And I certainly didn’t know you cared much for the concept yourself, but I suppose it hardly surprises me that you would. You seem very much like you’d enjoy being around children with how lively you are.”

“I do!” Monica giggles. “I worked with them before, you know. But I left all that behind. I’m here now, so that’s that.”

“Hm,” Yosuke hums thoughtfully. “What a life you must have lived. But the past is past, I can’t disagree. Though, I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of you whoring out to our dearest mother so that she likes you.”

Monica bites her lip. Oddly, she looks troubled by a distant thought rather than Yosuke’s harsh word toward her. “Well, I do have to work with her interests, yes. But I’m happy. I don’t want to be stuck with someone who hates me.”

Yosuke chuckles at this remark and again looks over at you. “I can only imagine what that’s like. But cooperation has seemed to work out for the both of you. I’m glad.”

You continue to refuse his glance, not at all pleased by his remarks half-geared toward you. His voice rings in your head, and you can already hear him saying “If only you gave in…”.

“In any case, Monica, I am very much in need of a return to work,” Yosuke goes on. “I didn’t want to dawdle this much. I need you to open the gate for my dear Ten, you know.”

“Oh! Right!” Monica jumps to alertness. “I’ll get on that.”

She gives you a little wave like Mom did before retreating back into the office. Once you and Yosuke are again alone, he steps toward you and places his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s over,” he says gently. “I can see how flustered you are from all that attention. I did warn you that your mother would be so forward.”

He gives a light sigh when you refuse to look up at him.

“She comforted me in my time of need, Ten,” he explains himself. “I said I fell into my old habits when you were gone and I meant all of them. I knew your mother would come seeking me out the moment I was at my lowest, but I was far too out of it to reject her like I usually do. But know that your mother is not comparable to you. You are what I want. She only served to quell my urges.”

You continue to stay silent, and this only prompts Yosuke to tip your chin up with his hand, his fingers gently curled and nestled under it.

“Your mother was medicine, but you are my cure,” he asserts. “No doubt my superior knows that’s how I feel about you. I suppose that’s why he ripped you from me. But I won’t let it happen again.”

“Why is it okay for you to fool around when you absolutely won’t let me?” You question finally. Yosuke's face remains neutral, though you can see a flickering flame behind his olive eyes. You immediately stop talking about the subject he hates.

“I should remind you that this occurred when I thought you were dead, Ten,” he warns. “Had I known the truth, I’d never have gone to her. I suppose I was desperate, if that’s what you want me to say.”

He then changes his tune and gives a gentle smile. “Is my pet jealous?”

“No,” you refute the idea. “Do you think It bothers me to know you sought attention from someone else for a while? You know how I feel about you.”

“I still feel the need to apologize. I didn’t want to sour our reunion with talk of me being in arms with your mother.”

“I’ve never known you to apologize genuinely.”

The white metal gate to your right finally grinds open. The hall is now ready for you to walk down it again.

“You won’t believe me, dear,” Yosuke remarks, “but I do feel bad about it. But I promise from now on to give my pet all the attention she wants. Alright?”

He presses the pad of his thumb against your lower lip and gives it a light, playful rub.

You suppose it’s best to show The Overseer that you are trying to keep Yosuke in line. Although you’d rather not, you do lean into Yosuke’s chest and bury your face in his shirt. Without question, he takes you in his arms and holds you close.

“I’m not mad,” you tell him, softening your voice up to please your doctor. Even though he knows this is merely an act, Yosuke smiles and pets your head.

“I'm glad,” he coos. When he finally stops petting you, you then hear him reach into his pocket and pull out the paper he’d folded before. When you look up, he’s hovering over your head.

Yosuke’s smile does not drop when he sees your begging eyes.

“Now I’ll see you tonight, my dear,” he says gently. “If you continue to be good, I’ll be sure to give you plenty of kisses before bed.”

Finally, the man hands you the paper, which you humbly take in one hand.

“…Okay.”

Acting girlishly for your doctor leaves you feeling like a robot right now, on autopilot. It’s not easy to do what you have to, but it certainly isn’t as hard as you expected now that you’ve already done it just a few times. Truly, you’re glad Mom waltzed off to go satisfy her urges. Seeing Yosuke baby you this way would probably send her into an absolute sexually charged frenzy. In fact, your doctor’s probably only doing this now because she’s gone.

How Yosuke can stand to act this way knowing that his boss is watching is beyond you. It’s embarrassing enough to now be self-aware of the fact that he’s been watching you all this time. Him, Gale, and Lucius all. Will the latter two get off on seeing you act this way, you wonder? Perhaps Gale’s watching right now and seeing just how tortured you are at having to succumb to Yosuke.

Now that you think about it, you aren’t really sure how Gale will record your behavior when it’s not wholly natural. You’re aware of all the cameras now, you’re aware of what Gale does. It’s going to make acting normally hard. Granted, you can probably push aside the thought of cameras by getting yourself distracted by something else, but even so, knowing about them hardly helps. Unless, of course, you knowing is merely another variable change that Gale will find useful.

Yosuke soon pulls fully away from your body and finally lets you go. His face remains with a warm smile as he watches you cross the gate and head into the hall. As it has many times before, the white metal thing slides closed, letting out a loud THUNK once it’s completely sealed you off from Yosuke. Despite the jumpiness this causes in your body, you refuse to let go of the folded drawing in your hand.

You half expect to feel that relief that has always come once the gate closes, but this time you remain nervous. Evidently there’s no need to be right this moment, since the others aren’t here yet. There’s plenty of time to get accustomed to things again.

Regardless, being here after so long feels unfortunately comfortable. You’d be happy if not for the fact that this place still has its claws on you. The recreational areas are only there so you don’t go completely insane being confined here. That hardly changes the fact that you are indeed confined.

Instinctively, you want to look around the area and see who’s there, but you have to again remind yourself that nobody’s here yet. Your eyes do, however, wander to the cafeteria doors as you recall Yosuke’s mentioning his expectation of you to eat well. Would he be so hovering that he’d bother to ask specifically what you ate so that he knows you did?

Of course he would. He’s babying you more than ever before.

Unfortunately, you’re not really hungry right now. The interaction between doctors just now admittedly shirked your appetite. But you will at least go see how Charlie is doing. He must have noticed right away that you were missing. He’d have seen you more often than the others. They at least had the privilege of being in the dark about your disappearance for a while. Easily, your friends could have attributed you not being present with something your doctor was pulling, and could then just assume you’d be back in a few days. If not that, then they could just figure they barely missed you and that this was all coincidental. Maybe you were around when they weren’t. Charlie, however, would not have had to think twice about it.

You sigh. Trying to talk with him is worth a shot. At least not having to deal with a face and voice would make reunions a bit less awkward and simply ease you into it. And really, you’d be glad to check up on the guy. You have him to thank for all the good food you did manage to eat, even when you didn’t much feel like eating it.

With the decision made, you head to the cafeteria, though pause and look out at the hall toward the gate as if in instinct before actually making your way through the doors. Yosuke has already gone, and the hall has emptied. You’d rather not be here when Mom comes back, so you continue on.

Humbly, you make your way to the cafeteria counter. Passing each table feels familiar to you, practically commonplace despite how long it’s been since you’ve been here. Adjusting to the scenery, the familiar white walls and metal tables, none of it is particularly hard. So why are your eyes glued to the ground? Why are you twiddling your fingers and the folded page between them nervously?

Before you know it, your feet stop at the counter as they have many times before. Your hands are shaking suddenly, but you don’t bother to hesitate.

“C-Charlie?” You call out nervously. “Are you there?”

No response. Is he asleep? Busy?

Dead?

You squeeze your eyes shut a moment and scorn yourself for letting the word suddenly float in your mind. No, Charlie isn’t dead. There’s no way. The food would have started to taste different like Six had described last time a chef was switched out. You would have known. You-

Shuffling is heard from behind the counter after a long silence, the slow gliding of feet or shoes or whatever else along the hard floor shaking you suddenly. The shuffling soon stops, then instead is replaced by a slow scratching noise. You can’t quite make out what it is until a white scrap of paper comes out from the slit of the counter and toward you. Upon it is merely written:

HI

Your jaw slightly drops as you see the scraggly, large font, written as if by a child. It’s not at all practiced like handwriting you’ve seen. Even the doctors’ messier handwriting has more form than this, and you can tell even that with just two letters.

Still, the communication you get is enough to send your heart leaping happily. Your shocked expression soon turns into a wide smile, one you haven’t made in so long. A hand comes to your mouth as you take in the realization that Charlie is alive, and that he’s capable of communicating a new way, even if only a little.

You eventually let your hand fall a bit and look on at the pane.

“I’m back. I’m sorry I was gone so long,” you speak out with tender glee. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

Is it normal to crack small jokes like this? Hell, you don’t really care. Seeing someone alive, even if you can’t really see them upfront, is phenomenally satisfying. It’s been a while since you felt at all good about something.

The paper retracts, and you hear the sounds of rubbing that is soon replaced with more scribbling. When the paper comes back out, it has a smiling face on it. The one Charlie’s drawn is far more scraggly than what you did for him a long while back, but you’re glad he remembers your first real conversation. Why he doesn’t have the original papers to use is lost to you, but at least he knows how to make his own symbols.

“You’ve been learning to write?” You ask. Again, the paper retracts, and returns in a moment with a scraggly YES.

“I’m assuming you still can’t write a lot, though,” you add. The note is pushed forward further. You figured as much, but any progress is noteworthy.

You then frown, thinking on Charlie’s status as a worker. It’s probably best not to bring up what you know about workers now even if it is with someone who’s part of that group. Charlie probably already knows what’s happening to him and that he can’t help it. A reminder would probably be painful.

“Do you…feel okay?” You ask Charlie. The paper gets pulled away, then returns with an OK. This doesn’t quite make you feel any better about knowing Charlie’s state. Even if he’s okay now, he’s still going to die someday, like you. Plus, you aren’t sure if his writing is bad because he’s learning how to again, or if Red Valentine has already started to affect his mind. You imagine that Lucius’ remark about workers getting slower and weaker applies to their motor skills too. C1, for as little as you want to remember him, looked absolutely braindead. But, if Charlie is still able to cook, perhaps it’s just the former that’s to blame for his shoddy handwriting.

In the midst of your thinking, the paper again comes out of the slot with the word HUNGRY? on it. You bite your lip.

“Well, I’m not hungry now, but my doctor says I need to eat really well sometime today,” you explain. “Maybe later.”

You sigh.

“I wish I could tell you where I’ve been. I suffered a lot, you know. But I don’t think I can really tell even you all that much.”

A question mark comes out this time.

“Forget it.” You shake your head. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I will say I’m grateful for all your cooking. Your meals were small bits of joy for me, where I was. Even when I stopped smiling a while, I was glad to know you were okay with all the food I was getting. I hope that makes sense.”

A smile, next. This symbol even makes you smile a little.

“Well, in any case, I’m just overall really happy you’re safe. Thank you for everything. And sorry if you were sleeping or something. I know I’m super early and here before everyone.”

Strangely, Charlie takes the paper back to jot something new down. When it returns to your sight, there’s one word again.

HERE.

You blink in surprise. “What? There’s someone here already?”

The paper moves forward again to indicate a yes. This causes your heart to jump a bit in excitement and nervousness all at once. You lean forward against the counter.

“Where are they?!” The words coming out of your mouth sound a little too eager, but now that you’ve broken the ice a bit in approaching someone familiar that you actually like, maybe it’ll be a little easier to confront others too.

Charlie presents a question mark this time, and it dawns on you that of course he wouldn’t know where anyone goes except when they explicitly say what their plans are. You suppose you’ll try the rec room first then.

“You don’t mind if I go check, do you? I promise I’ll come back later.”

Charlie then gives you another smiling face on his now-worn out piece of paper. You suppose maybe he has more than that one scrap if he’s constantly erasing notes. By now, the one he’s used with you has been smudged with leftover lead, the harsh lines of his other scribbles somewhat faded, but still quite noticeable.

With a quick “thank you”, you then leave the cafeteria and head again into the hall. It’s luckily still free of any doctors, though equally as free of any of your friends. But that hardly matters—your mission now is to meet with whoever’s here. Your mind runs through each Number eagerly, with you trying to ponder just how you’ll interact with each of them individually now that you’re back, and now that it’s been so long since you’ve seen anyone familiar and loved.

Your first instinct is to try the rec room. It’s always been something of a meeting place for everyone, a sort of hub. Most members of your family have always tended to go there and wait for others to appear so that everyone could ensure each other’s safety and presence. Perhaps they even waited for you countless times.

Your heart pounds harder the closer you get to the rec room doors. The anticipation has left your hands to again shake as you step forward. But as the doors part, you don’t much see who you expected.

The moment your eyes catch sight of an unfamiliar, soft brown-skinned young man lying on his back along one of the rightmost couches, you freeze.

Someone new?

You thought nobody was here when arriving to the hall, but suddenly, there’s this boy with light blond hair and chestnut eyes, laying about with a book in his hands that’s open to some page he’s engrossed in. He hasn’t even noticed you yet.

Your eyes trail along his rather frail looking body, dressed in some deep green color. At first, you start to think he might be the boy brought in recently, but you realize that it can’t be possible. For starters, that boy was said to have put up quite a fight, and the one before you now hardly looks like he can throw a punch with how slim his limbs are. Secondly, you were just in recovery, in the same room with the new boy a few days ago. If that young man just had his procedure, there’s absolutely no way he’d be here now.

This boy and the other boy are not the same.

But why?

When did The Overseer ever bring anyone new in other than the one you overheard him and Lucius talking about? When did he ever have time for another procedure beyond the ones for the workers and the boy you heard of? You try to run through every moment you heard between Lucius and his boss, but nothing sticks out. Nothing’s clear.

You want to speak out to the figure on the couch out of curiosity, but find that your throat is closed up with a nervous lump. It’s hard to really take In the sudden emergence of a new person, especially since this scenario is itself so new for you. The others wouldn’t bat an eye. As it is, they hardly reacted with surprise when you came.

Yosuke must not have known that there was a new Number when he said you’d have time before anyone showed up. Both of you are out of the loop with what’s gone on here because neither of you were present. But you can’t help but think that encountering this boy is hardly coincidental. You are naïve about a lot of things, but you aren’t wholly stupid.

Knowing that Gale has a lot of control over variability in this place because they observe their boss’ subjects, you are quite certain that they wanted you to meet the new Number. They wanted to see how you’d react to him. As you stand here, there’s no doubt in your mind that Gale is watching closely. If not now, they will see every moment of this interaction through a recording.

Of course, you shouldn’t let the knowledge of being watched impede upon your actions. You’re still you, no matter what. And, above all, your actions are your own.

Despite being so nervous, you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat and step a bit forward. Only when the young man on the couch bothers to turn the page of his book do his chestnut eyes temporarily flicker your way. He even does a bit of a double take himself, likely surprised by someone new in his presence. Before he can really say anything, the book slips from his hands and falls on his face despite the young man’s attempts at catching it before it does.

“Ow,” he moans, frozen temporarily in place after having his nose slapped by the thing. He sits himself up and lets the book fall from his face, then looks over at you.

“Um, hi,” he greets rather cautiously. “You, uh, totally didn’t see that, right?”

You remain silent. Again, the boy tries to communicate. “Um, are you new?”

“I…” you struggle to say much. “Yes? I-I mean no!”

“Huh?” The young man lowers a blond brow. “Sorry, I’m a little confused.”

He finally puts his book down on the couch and pushes himself off the plush thing. The both of you wind up meeting in the middle of the room.

Not only is this boy thin as hell, but he’s at least half a head smaller than you, it seems. You aren’t sure if he’s younger or only looks that way, but he has a bit of a babyish, innocent face now that you can see it up close. His eyes are more open, his cheeks round, and his freckled face a bit smooshed together. He almost looks like a kid, but you certainly hope he isn’t. You figured that the twins must be a little older despite how deceptively young they look, so perhaps this young man is too.

With his expression in a slightly curious state, the boy looks rather innocent. His somewhat short, light hair is rather messy, but tapers at the ends of each jutting bundle. He almost looks like he just rolled out of bed, but the style oddly doesn’t look horrible on him. His almost cutesy face makes it seem natural.

“I’m surprised they brought in someone new,” the boy remarks with surprise, completely oblivious to who you are. Oddly, despite his babyish appearance, his voice is actually a bit deeper. He definitely sounds like a developed young man, though his vocal tone is a tinge airier than someone like Eight’s, whose voice is far drier and sharper. “I was told that they haven’t really been doing that as often as they used to. But I guess since they brought me in, they started up again. I’m not sure. Nobody else seems to know what’s up either.”

He blushes a bit upon realizing that he’s rambling. “Sorry, I guess you have no idea what’s going on, huh?”

Finally, you manage to muster something verbal after recovering from the shock of seeing someone completely new. The only other time you really met anyone different was…

“Are the others okay?”

The boy before you blinks and again twists his face into a confused expression. “You know them?”

After a moment’s contemplation, his eyes go wide. It clicks for him.

“Wait!” He exclaims, pointing a finger at you slightly. “Are you the other Ten?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a sheepish awkwardness. “Um, I wasn’t really expecting to see someone new here either. You then frown. “What do you mean ‘other Ten’? Don’t tell me you’re Ten too.”

“No, not at all,” the boy refutes this, then gives a light shrug. “I actually don’t have a Number yet. Or I guess if I do, they never really told me what it was. My doctor’s always just used a particular pet name for me, so I don’t know.”

This is odd. Granted, you never really officially got your Number. If you recall, the others merely guessed, and only afterwards did the doctors really start to use the Number with you.

Why his Number was held off, though…you start to feel sick to your stomach thinking that it might have been because it wasn’t clear whether or not you were going to genuinely be replaced. The Overseer probably held off on an official title for his new subject until he knew certainly whether you’d be coming back.

You’re then left to wonder if the others in your group supposed this boy was your replacement, but didn’t refer to him as the third Ten. Though, this thought only saddens you when you realize that everyone decided without a doubt that you were gone the moment he showed up. Were you to have failed in submitting to The Overseer as you did, they might have been right.

This makes you remember that Cyrus had said something similar about this very issue: he’d insinuated that he should have known when you came that Jade had no chance of ever returning here. Then, perhaps he learned his lesson this time and presumed you dead when another Number came rather than holding on hopefully for your return. He and everyone else must have been so crushed the day this boy arrived. He has no idea just how much weight there was to his appearance, just as there was to yours when you arrived. You never knew much about Cyrus’ attachment to Jade then. You didn’t know much of anything at all. Perhaps this new Number is the same kind of naïve.

“I just have the others call me Pickle,” the boy then laughs, the rather unusual sentence taking you aback.

“…Pickle?” You remain dumbfounded. “Why?”

Pickle shrugs. “I dunno. I thought it was a silly name. I’m wearing green and everything. The others get these really cool color-coded names, but I don’t mind something a little goofier. I guess the break in seriousness kinda helps given why we’re here. Two thought it was a riot.”

“He would,” you give a weary chuckle at the image of Two losing his mind over something so trivial. “Anyway, if I’m back, then maybe you’re the new Eleven.”

“I suppose so. I’ll still keep my name though,” Pickle remarks happily. You notice his nervous tone has now completely dropped now that he’s gotten a bit more accustomed to you. “What about you? Based on your color, Is your name Rose or something? Or just Ten?”

Your eyes drop then. You’d be angry, but Pickle doesn’t much know about the twisted relationship you have with Yosuke, nor of the man’s horrid hold on you.

“No, my name’s Ten,” you tell him upfront. “I’d really prefer never to be called Rose, if you don’t mind.”

Pickle frowns. “...Sorry. I guess I struck a nerve.”

“A little. But I don’t really blame you for it, because it has nothing to do with you personally. I’m assuming you don’t know much about me beyond what was told by the others. It is what it is.”

“Um...well anyway, what I meant by the thing you asked: there were two of you, right?” Pickle questions uncomfortably, hoping to move on from the awkward topic. “One before you that nobody remembers, and then, well…you.”

It’s weird that someone else is here telling you about something that you didn’t expect they’d know right away. Then again, you aren’t even sure how long he’s been here. This guy seems completely adjusted to this place already. Unless he’s hiding whatever horrible feelings he’s going through rather well with a rather jovial visage. You know everyone has different methods of coping, different levels of comfort, and different styles. It shouldn’t be surprising that Pickle could be well-adjusted right off the bat. Though, perhaps it’s a little rude to think, but you assumed he might be much softer because of how frail he looks.

“Yeah, something like that,” you respond quietly. “I don’t know much about him either, but he was apparently pretty close to this group. I was just the person who replaced him I guess.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Pickle remains upbeat and gives a boyish smile. “You know, everyone’s talked a whole lot about you.”

Your head perks up. “What have they said?”

“That you were nice, really,” is the boy’s response. “I heard a lot of good things. The only stuff they didn’t talk much about was your doctor. I guess they wanted to preserve happier memories and forget the rougher stuff.”

You frown. “I guess that’s understandable. I wouldn’t want to remember my doctor either. Nor all the suffering I went through. But it’d be unrealistic to pretend it never happened.”

“I suppose not,” Pickle shrugs. He watches as you nervously fiddle with your hair. You end up running your fingers through it and tugging at the ends which by now have tangled a little even after Yosuke brushed it. Pickles’ eyes widen a bit in curiosity.

“Hey, your hair’s kinda long, huh?” He remarks. You look back at him with a confused face, but let him continue. “I can trim it for you if you want.”

“Huh?” You remain perplexed. “Why?”

“Well, I know my own hair’s kinda messed up, so you probably couldn’t guess, but it’s fun to mess with,” your new companion answers plainly. “I’m not exactly able to work with it much here since this isn’t exactly a barber shop, but I can at least do basic stuff.”

You don’t quite follow, so you make a guess. “You like cutting hair?”

Pickle brightens up with a wide smile, his attention piqued. “Yeah! I found that out after helping Violet with hers.”

Your eyes widen. “That was your doing?! I saw her in the hall the other day for the first time in ages and she looked so different!”

“Well yeah.” Pickle gives a light nod. “She…sort of had a bad tantrum, I think. Her doctor made her really mad and she was sick of it. Something about him constantly tugging at her hair. She cut it off herself, but it looked really bad. I was around that day so I offered to help out. Only when I started cutting it did I realize I wasn’t half bad.”

“Was Micah mad that she did that?”

“Kind of,” Pickle answers with a frown. “But she stopped caring what he had to say about that kind of thing. At least that’s what she told me.”

This takes you aback. Violet has always been quietly submissive to Micah based on what she’s said of him to you. She hates the man utterly, yet had always cooperated just to get through her visits. And now you’re hearing that she’s fighting back? On one hand, you’re actually quite impressed that she’s gained the strength to put her foot down. But all the same, you worry whether that might hurt her chances at survival here if Micah grows too tired of her resistance. If she doesn’t get herself killed being rash, then she might end up thrown to another doctor entirely. God forbid she end up with someone even worse.

Still, to hear that she’s fighting back more…maybe that’s why Micah was so upset with her when you first came back. Despite the worry you feel for her, you’re also proud that she’s actually putting up a fight at all. If only you could do the same. But knowing your doctor’s attitude and the expectations The Overseer has for your keeping him in line, you can’t afford not to be a little submissive. Again, it is a bit of strategy. You’re still you, and you still utterly despise Yosuke, even when your body doesn’t.

Speaking of which, Pickle’s offer to cut your hair still stands, but you hesitate to take it knowing that Yosuke might dislike such a sudden change. If anything, he may want to cut your hair himself. Does he even know how?

Hell, you already trust Pickle with a pair of scissors more than your doctor, and you’ve barely just met him. Besides, even if you do this, it’s not like Yosuke can do much about it in the end. He might have a word about the change or throw a fit and “punish” you, but nothing can be done.

Perhaps that kind of passive “fuck you” to her doctor is why Violet found the option so appealing. You can’t say you don’t find that appealing yourself.

“Well, if you want to give it a shot, then that’s fine,” you finally agree. “Maybe just a few inches.”

Pickle smiles.

“Great!” He chirps. “Meet me in the bathroom. I’ll be right back!”

Without giving you a chance to respond, Pickle heads out the rec room doors. You figure he’s off to fetch a pair of scissors, so you don’t bother to keep him. When the room has emptied, you give it a look over and finally have a chance to think on all the things you’ve done in here. You half expected to see someone like Eight reading on the couch or Cyrus meditating on the floor when you first came in. Perhaps even Blue watching a movie on her own. But a new Number? You aren’t even sure how to react to that.

Still, Pickle seems like a sweet boy. Just by the way he talks, you figure he might be getting along more with the twins. They’re rather jovial and upbeat like he is. You love the two to death, but you’re more of a casual person when you interact with them. Their energy far exceeds yours.

As asked, you do end up trailing on to the bathroom and awaiting Pickle, though glance up at the ceiling. You certainly hope there aren’t cameras in the bathroom too. But if not, then that’s another place you can probably find privacy. Granted, the restroom here is hardly big enough to fit more than two people, and attempting to shove everyone there for a meeting would look far too obvious.

Though, if Gale can’t see you in this bathroom, then you have a lot of privacy. Is their attempt to observe your interacting with Pickle then going to be soured because of this?

Good.

When Pickle eventually returns with a comb and a pair of scissors, you can’t help but ask,

“Why do you have that here?”

“My doctor let me bring the comb with me,” Pickle answers. “And she even got me a pair of scissors for hair for behaving around her. I keep my little set in the crafts room in its own little place on the shelf, so that the workers don’t take it up. They did the first time when I left it in here. I have to clean my stuff a lot on my own though.”

He then turns the faucet on and begins to wet his hands. Though you’re not sure what to do, you allow Pickle to dampen your hair by bringing water to it and running his hands and the comb through the strands. His fingers are just as skinny as he is.

All the while, you face away from the mirror so that the sink is behind you and accessible. This is a welcome change, since looking at yourself isn’t exactly something you feel like doing right now. Despite Pickle being a bit shorter than you, he has no trouble navigating your head.

“By the way, what’s up with that paper in your hand?” He asks curiously. “You’ve been gripping onto it pretty tightly.”

“Oh…” you blush. “It’s a picture I drew recently. My doctor had me in my room a while so that I could recover a little before coming back, but he gave me some colored pencils to work with.”

Pickle’s attitude becomes perkier at the mention. “A picture? Can I see?”

You sheepishly agree to this and slowly start to unfold the thing. The lines of the folds remain present on the opened page like cracks on glass, but the image is otherwise unobstructed. You hold the thing behind you to show Pickle, who stops trimming your hair a moment to lean in and observe it.

“It looks pretty silly,” he laughs. “I’m guessing you’re not an artist.”

“I wish I was,” you grumble in embarrassment. It must be pretty obvious how bad your art skills are for someone to laugh at them. Though, you get the feeling Pickle’s just being lively and not genuinely hurtful. He might be the type of guy who’s just open about what he notices regardless of how it might be perceived. You guess Eight’s like that to some degree, though he cares little about hurting people’s feelings if it means helping get them aware of flaws. Pickle, so far as you’re noticing, doesn’t mean to hurt you.

“You mentioned your doctor,” you change the subject while folding the paper back up and keeping it tucked between your fingers. “Is it Monica?”

Pickle’s happier tone softens a bit, as if he’s become downtrodden. Maybe you’re the one who said the wrong thing this time.

“Yeah…” he answers while slowly running the comb through your now-damp hair. He finally starts to pick the scissors up and snip at the ends of a chunk of hair. The slow grinding of the blades as they cut each strand with a strong snip leaves your ears tingling. ”Do you know her?”

“I met her briefly before I disappeared.” Your eyes lower. “She seemed nice, but I still don’t really trust her. She came to the facility a while after I got settled in, and by then I had already been through a lot with the other doctors.”

Pickle lets out a weary laugh as he continues to trim another tuft of hair. “I mean, she is nice. I don’t really like having to put up with her when she’s in one of her moods, but I guess it could be worse. I’ve heard some of the doctors here are really mean.”

You raise a brow. “You haven’t met them?”

“No, thankfully. They don’t really like me as much, especially since I’m not a girl. Even the doctors who don’t mind seeing us boys don’t really seem to have taken a fancy to me or anything, not even to try seeing how I am. Only Jonathan and Nathaniel really have, but I’ve heard they’re pretty open about who they see. I’m just glad they’re not horrible to us. But anyway, I’ve heard the others’ names and seen a few of them in person, but never really had a visit with anyone else but who I’ve mentioned.”

Pickle sighs then. “From what I hear, I’m pretty lucky to have a gentler doctor. She doesn’t hit me or anything. At best, she babies me. At worst, she’s pretty lusty and asks me to do weird things. She kind of reminds me of Mama. You know, the freaky blonde lady. Only, Monica’s not as crazy.”

Odd. Is Monica really one of the “nicer” doctors, then?

“I guess that’s good,” you mumble. “Aside from you having to see Mom, I guess.”

“Mama’s kind of more forward than Monica is, really,” Pickle huffs. “She’s probably the roughest doctor I’ve had. I made her mad once and she threatened me. I got so scared that I haven’t really made another mistake with her since then.”

“She’s horrifying when mad,” you agree. Based on what you’re being told, you presume Pickle hasn’t been with Lilah. She probably took one look at the boy and refused to touch him, almost like she did with you. “Anyway, I haven’t visited with Monica yet. I assume she’ll want to see me sometime now that I’m back. Um…”

You hesitate to ask, but try anyway. “…how is she?”

Pickle goes silent a moment while he continues to carefully cut your hair. At first, you assume that he’s not really wiling to explain. But eventually, he speaks.

“She’s kind of weird, I guess,” Pickle answers you. “I think she treats boys and girls differently, so I can’t tell you what to expect. I don’t really wanna talk about it. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I understand.” Admittedly, you’re a bit bothered that you can’t get an answer before visiting the woman yourself, but so be it.

“So you know most everyone then, huh?” You ask. “How long have you been here anyway?”

Pickle laughs in amusement. “I have no idea. You’re asking the wrong guy. Nobody here really has a sense of time. Maybe Cyrus, from what I heard, but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t much seen the guy but a few times. He greeted me and was really nice, but he seemed kind of distracted.”

“…Oh…” You tug at and toy with the fabric at the hem of your gown.

“….Why?” You can’t help but ask.

“He’s been a bit distant,” is Pickle’s response. Your worry for Cyrus only increases the more Pickle talks about what’s been going on with him. You figured he was suffering, but if he’s acting so distant again, it’s probably really bad. He’s always been said to act a certain way when losing someone. You’d imagine it takes him time to recover from a loss. Cyrus has always felt that it’s been his responsibility to take care of others, and so when someone suddenly disappears, it’s no doubt that he must blame himself to some degree.

“I heard about Jade and about the other Numbers from a few of the others one day,” Pickle goes on, unaware of what you’re thinking. “It…um…sounded really rough.”

“You say it so casually.”

“Believe me, I was actually pretty torn up about it myself when I heard the story,” Pickle admits. “I want to smile and everything like Blue and the twins do, but even that tore at me a while. I don’t really like thinking about the whole mortality thing. But I know how it is here. I can’t really avoid it.”

You shift your eyes to the side. “I struggled with it too. I sometimes still do, really. But it sounds like you adjusted kind of quick otherwise.” You then stammer after replying this way.. “I-I don’t mean to sound bitter or something.”

Pickle chuckles. “No, I get it. I do think it took some time, though. I was pretty shy when I came until I got to know everyone, and I think having others around me really helps distract from all the awful.”

You can hardly disagree. You always felt the same.

“But yeah,” your temporary stylist goes on. “It was pretty easy to adjust to all of it otherwise. I was disgusted to say the least, but…Monica treats me okay. I feel bad for everyone more than I feel bad for myself. I am a bit spoiled, I think.”

“I hope nobody put that in your head,” you remark with concern. Pickle gives another weary laugh.

“No, nothing like that. I just feel bad that the others get bruised and battered and I don’t, that’s all. I’ve only really felt a bit of pain because of Mama, though I’m admittedly kind of scared to think about what other pain I might face in the future.

“But regarding my doctor, I felt like it was really easy to slip into the role she wanted me to play. I guess saying it felt natural would be weird, but that’s the best way I could describe it. I found out pretty quickly what she liked, and was able to adjust myself to do what she wanted. I won’t say I like it, but I know I have to put up with it. It wasn’t until my brush with Mama that I really started to be more alert about acting a certain way with doctors. I don’t want to feel that kind of fear again.”

“Hm,” you hum. “That’s honestly something I’ve always struggled with.”

In part, you want to say, “it could be worse”, but you want to be fair. Pickle is new and has no idea just how bad this place is, nor just how much lies beyond the surface of what he’s been exposed to. You were the same as him back then, utterly naïve. You complained about your own problems without even knowing what kind of awful things the others had gone through that, by comparison, were far worse.

“Struggled? With your doctor?” The young man’s curiosity is piqued as he leans in. “Who is he? What’s he like?”

Pickle pauses a minute before following up with, “If you want to talk about it. I guess it’s only fair since I didn’t myself.”

“No, it’s alright,” you assure the boy. You notice that he’s managed to reach the other side of your head by now and is currently snipping at the last bits of hair that he’s sectioned between his middle and index finger. The more you feel him work your hair, the more you think he really must have had some fascination or skill with managing this kind of thing before he came. What an unusual center to have, though you suppose this shows that there are more kinds of interests people can have than what’s presented in the recreational areas. Maybe you haven’t really found something you’re good at because nothing’s managed to stir in you. For all you know, you could have been an acrobat or a singer or something. Maybe you liked magic or stamp collecting or any number of odd things.

“My doctor’s name Is Yosuke Chisaka,” you finally bother to explain. “He’s…horrible.”

“Oh? Do you not want to talk about specifics?”

“I don’t mind,” you assure Pickle. “In short, he’s a possessive guy. He fawns over me and constantly tries to keep me close. He’s always been really creepy. And…”

You hesitate, but don’t want to have to bother explaining it to your new friend later.

“He really wants me to be his. In any way possible. I’ve been through a lot of emotional struggles with him because of his weird obsession. It’s a lot to go over, but-“

“Stop,” Pickle speaks up. Finally, his scissors retract from your hair, and he holds them up. Your head turns a bit so you can just catch the boy out of the corner of your eye, and you find that he’s looking on at you with lowered brows, but worried eyes. “Don’t think about it if it’s going to hurt. Okay? I get the picture on that descriptor alone. He sounds weird.”

You give a bit of a weary, soft laugh. “Very. Thank you.”

Pickle then smiles. “I shouldn’t have to make you feel better when you’re the expert at dealing with this place compared to me, you know.”

You smile. “Sorry, I guess I’m kind of adjusting back to this all. I’ll be fine soon.”

Wanting to move on from the topic, Pickle puts his scissors down and wipes away the leftover bits of hair that fell upon your back and shoulders.

“Well, take a look and tell me what you think!”

Curious, you turn around and glance in the mirror. The sudden sight of your new hair length takes you aback. It’s only a few inches shorter, yet somehow makes all the difference in the world to you.

“I know you said a few inches, but I wasn’t entirely sure how many. I guess I should have asked whether you wanted it shorter or longer first. My bad.” Pickle remarks sheepishly. You shake your head.

“No, it’s just fine, actually. I didn’t really want it as short as Violet’s or anything. I don’t know if I could pull that off, really.”

With a smile, you put a hand on Pickle’s shoulder.

“Anyway, look, I really appreciate this. Thank you.”

“No prob!” The young man beams. “I like this kind of thing. Plus, I figured it’d be a good way to get to know each other.”

“Well, safe to say I think you are a splendid young man,” you manage to muster a joke. This makes your companion giggle boyishly.

Both your attentions are then stolen by the sounds of the gate grinding open in the distance. The sudden noise makes you jump a bit. You wind up freezing as your mind recalls feeling so jumpy when you were here hiding from Yosuke.

No, you won’t let that awful memory ruin this now. Someone, or perhaps several someones that you know and love are coming through that gate, surely.

Pickle glances over at you with his babyish, chestnut eyes. “Maybe you should wait here.”

“Huh?” You’re surprised by this idea. “Why?”

Pickle again regains his smile. “You know, to surprise them. I’m sure you might give them a heart attack if you just suddenly show up. Maybe I can ease them into it.”

“Did Violet not get to tell anyone I was back?” You ask. “Now that I think about it, I’m surprised you were shocked to see me if she had at all mentioned my return.”

“I’m actually not sure. I didn’t even know she saw you until you mentioned it. I wasn’t here these past few days.”

“Why not?”

Pickle frowns. “I was put under for a while, according to my doctor. Something about checkups I guess.”

You suppose this is a commonplace occurrence given what you were told about it by Cyrus, but for it to take more than a day is odd unless someone has been injured or is having their shot. Still, the issue isn’t much your priority. You want dearly to see the others again. Having spoken with Charlie and Pickle has helped a bit with getting into the swing of things, but even now you’re still fairly nervous, if eager.

“You haven’t had your shot, have you?” You ask. It dawns on you that the regular shots come every several weeks, so maybe that’ll tell you just how long he’s been here. Surprisingly, Pickle shakes his head.

“No, not really,” he confesses. “I was told all about it, but everyone else has had theirs and I still haven’t had mine. I think a few have even gotten theirs twice by now.”

Your heart then suddenly sinks. That…doesn’t make any sense, does it? Why wouldn’t he have gotten his if the others already did, and even twice in some cases?

What’s worse is that you’re only left to wonder how long you’ve been locked away if everyone’s already been dosed. Yosuke had said it wasn’t months and months like you had randomly thought. But perhaps it’s been at least one, if not two. You don’t quite know how long three weeks is or how long a month is, but you think it might be a lot.

There’s too much confusing you now. Even if you could figure all this out, it wouldn’t do any good, would it?

All you’re left to assume is that The Overseer is trying something with Pickle. What that might be, you don’t know. As it is, his mention of not receiving a follow-up injection only makes you aware of the fact that you’ve yet to get yours again. If it’s been a while, you must be due. Whether you’ll get it soon or at all remains a mystery.

This only unsettles you more. If you do get a follow-up shot again, Yosuke is going to do the same thing as before. You’re going to be stuck under his care, in his arms only. With how much more obsessive he’s been with you, something you’re noticing even just by the small bit of time you’ve had together recently, being bedridden is going to present more of a challenge.

You’ll have to cozy up to the man without too much of a fuss.

Pickle notices your downtrodden expression and frowns a bit. “You okay? Something wrong?”

This acknowledgement leaves you a bit flustered. You’d hate to sour your meeting with the new Number by being so low. He’ll learn about everything in time, you’re sure. But perhaps like with Cyrus, there are things you’ll end up keeping to yourself until there’s a reason for them to be brought up.

In an attempt to remain inconspicuous, you merely give a weary smile. “Yeah, just kind of nervous, I guess. It’s…been a while.”

Not like this is inherently a lie. The boy before you picks his smile back up too. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Judging by how much they talked about you, I'd say they really like you, you know? Just be yourself.”

The rec room doors open this time, something you hear much more closely than the gate. Following it is a bit of chatter from a few voices you recognize; ones that make your heart jump again.

Despite the uncertainty, Pickle continues to remain chipper. He lowers his voice this time, hoping to not let anyone know he’s speaking with you yet. “Well anyway, we’ll find out if the others already know about you! Just wait here a minute, alright? Come out when you feel ready.”

You agree to this and opt to stay behind and listen closely to the exchange outside the restroom. Pickle closes the door behind him, so you merely press your ear to it and await the interaction between him and the others.

“Oh hey!” An attentive voice rings out the moment Pickle steps into the rec room. “When did you get here?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty early, aren’t you?” Another, softer one adds. “Why’s that?”

“Hey guys,” Pickle’s cheery voice responds to both individuals. You recognize them as Five and Six’s voices rather quickly. Somehow, the mere sound of them, and knowing that they’re okay only brings a wave of happiness over you. It’s so much so that you even find yourself smiling. “Monica brought me in early. I guess she thought I needed a break from all the other stuff she was doing.”

“Weird. She didn’t like, do anything crazy, right?” The next voice is Blue’s without a doubt. You’re glad she’s still her usual self. There’s no sadness in her voice. Though, hearing it only reminds you of the video feed you saw of her. She’d looked so broken before all this.

And her name…? What was it? You’d only heard one syllable before it was cut off. You can’t really fathom what the other part of her name was.

“I don’t think,” Pickle remarks curiously. “I don’t feel any different or anything.”

A light scoff is heard. “I figured you were being given a shot or something. Guess not. I never know what the hell these people do with us. I’m just glad you’re doing okay.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of this voice. It’s every bit as casual and relaxed as you remember.

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you recall every memory you shared with Lav, from first meeting her all the way to laying in her arms and Cyrus’. You run through each remembrance carefully, hoping that everything’s still there in your mind. You could never forgive yourself if you lost any memory of her, or of anyone at all.

“Um, did anyone else come by?” Her voice again rings in your ear even from far away. It sounds almost desperate, you find. “I mean, I figured not since it’s so early, but…”

Pickle remains curious. “Why do you ask?”

The room goes silent a minute. Your ears burn eagerly as they attempt to pick up any noise at all, but there’s none for a good while. Eventually, it’s Six who speaks up.

“You were out these past few days so you don’t know, but I saw Violet the other day,” she explains with a low voice. Though it’s hard to hear her too clearly, you can still make most of what she’s saying out. “She was going on about having seen Ten. I wasn’t sure what to think when she said it, but...”

“We were hoping she’d show up today,” Five adds, her voice a bit sullen. “That’s why Nine asked.”

You notice Lav hasn’t bothered speaking up again since her question. Only when there’s another lasting silence does she bother to be the one to break it.

“Look, don’t worry about it,” she says. Despite the slight hanging disappointment in her voice, Lav tries to remain upbeat. “Anyway, I caught these two together in the hall. Luckily, Gale was with them. I guess Milos wasn’t in the mood to bring Five. But still, at least it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.”

“You mean aside from your doctor being a dick to me?” Six scoffs. “God, what an ass.”

It never dawned on you that the doctors converged in the hall together. You got far too accustomed to Yosuke bringing you in after everyone had already gone in, or at least close to when the others were already here. You know Yosuke mentioned not being particularly social with most of the other doctors. Is he that avoidant that he tries waiting until it’s more likely that nobody else is around?

Your mind then wanders to Lav’s disheartened voice. You aren’t sure if you should pop out now or wait until the dreariness of the conversation has ended. In part, you still don’t really even know what you want to say to everyone.

Pickle hasn’t bothered to mention you yet, so you figure he’s silently waiting for you to make the first move. Blushing, you pull away from the door and give yourself a last glance in the mirror. Your hair is still a bit wet, but it’s at least shaped enough to not look totally stupid.

Why you’re suddenly fidgeting with stray strands and fussing over your appearance, you don’t know. You’ve never paid much attention. But right now, you feel instinctually obligated to care.

Your hand runs from your scalp down to your cheek. As you look in the mirror and overhear some casual conversation between the five Numbers outside, you start to become even more self-aware over how unshapely you look now compared to before the confinement. You hope your body will even out soon. Even though it’s gross agreeing with your doctor, you do think you should follow his advice.

A girlish laugh from Blue breaks your concentration in the mirror. Not wanting to dawdle much longer, you finally decide to gulp down the nervousness you’re feeling and try pressing on. Slowly, you unlock the bathroom door and slide it open. At first, a peep. You tip your head toward the door and try to eye the outside from the small crevice, but you can only really see a part of Pickle’s deep green uniform and brown skin. This causes you to slide the door open just a bit more so that you can lean further out from the edge of the doorframe, at least enough to get an eye out.

Nobody’s noticed you yet, the group still wholly fixated on one another. The moment you catch sight of your friends, your heart again throbs and pumps faster. Butterflies fill your stomach despite you knowing there’s nothing to be worried about.

Perhaps you expected such drastic changes in your friends despite the fact that this would have been an irrational thought. But it seems that nothing much has changed about their clothes or faces or hair. Five and Six look just as peachy and happy as they were when you left. Even Blue continues to look as if nothing bothers her.

Lav, however…

You watch stunned as you eye the braided lock falling from the back of her head. She somehow looks even more sporty than before with her hair that way. Though the change is so sudden to you, it’s admittedly not an awful look for her. Not like it much matters. She’s fairly pretty regardless of what she does with her appearance.

The moment your eyes fall onto her face, a wave of emotions hits you all at once. Quite immediately, you straighten up from your hunched posture that you took while leaning upon the doorframe, which you hadn’t even noticed in your focus on the others. It’s the sight of her that finally makes you step out of the restroom and just a bit forward, but you don’t make it too far. Rather, you stand in place, watching the others longingly.

You know it’s best you go over there, but moving your feet even further right now is proving difficult. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for someone to notice you. Lav’s lips move up and down as she speaks with the others. Of the five, she’s the only one directly facing your end of the room.

The moment your eyes finally meet, Lav’s chatter immediately stops, and her jaw slightly drops. When the others take note of her sudden shift in demeanor, they follow where she’s looking. Pickle gives a knowing smile, whereas Five and Six follow Lav’s lead and watch on with complete surprise.

“Ten…?” Your name slips past her lips in what almost sounds like an uncertain whisper.

Your own lips part, but nothing comes out from behind them. It’s again difficult for you to speak, though you really have no idea what to say.

Lav’s shocked stare turns then into what looks like her attempting to choke back tears. Her face tenses in an attempt to hold back whatever she wants to let out, but she does come walking toward you. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around you and tightly embraces your body with hers.

Still stunned, you don’t immediately move, merely standing with your eyes wide. Being held like this again from someone you care about after so long, it’s hard to react the way you want to. In fact, you aren’t even sure how to react. But, strangely, when you feel Lav’s hands tremble along your back as she holds you tighter, you feel a rush of tears swell in your eyes. It’s almost as if someone turned a switch on in you, but the moment the drops start to bead down your cheeks, it’s impossible to stop them.

Your own hands shake as well, but you bring them up around Lav’s neck without question and return her warm embrace with one of your own. Despite the falling tears that are now rolling on your companion’s shoulder, you don’t sob aloud. You merely let Lav hold you, and in turn hold her too. The both of you remain quiet, only exchanging your emotions through touch. Neither of you have to say, “I missed you”. It’s written all over your embrace now.

Lav pulls away after a while, and cups your head in her hands with a delicate touch. Her amber eyes stay fixated on yours, and you notice even she has started to tear up a bit.

“Do you remember me?” She asks with a whisper. One of your own hands reaches up to cup the back of hers, while the other remains at your side, still tightly gripping the folded page that you hope to show everyone soon. With a mustered smile, you give a short nod. Seeing your lips curve up this way only makes Lav smile longingly herself, She presses her forehead against yours and closes her eyes.

“Thank goodness.”

When the both of you finally retract from one another, Lav tries to wipe away her tears before bothering to turn around to the others behind her. When you finally are able to see the peachy couple behind Lav, you notice them looking on at you both with knowing smiles on their faces.

Lav takes your hand in hers and leads you toward that end of the room, and only then do you find yourself able to move your legs. Upon meeting with Five and Six, Five immediately pounces on you and gives a warm, cuddly hug which you return.

“Oh hon!” She sighs. “We missed you so much!”

When she pulls away, Six playfully nudges her knuckles against your arm and gives a grin.

“Hey, welcome back!” she greets happily. Even with her more laid-back greeting, you know by the glint in her dark brown eye that she’s absolutely happy to see you again. “I was really surprised when Violet said she saw you.”

Blue remains with her baby blue eyes fixated on you. She seems rather shocked, but uncertain of how to respond to your being back. Even her usual chipper demeanor is gone. You’d hate for her to feel badly about anything that’s happened, so you at least try to flash her a smile. Although she doesn’t verbally welcome you back, she doesn’t much have to.

Seeing you smile makes her blink a bit and shift her eyes away a moment. However, when she finally accepts the fact that you’re here and okay, she returns your smile with a bit of a playful one.

Finally, you are able to muster some kind of speech. You attempt to wipe away some of the tears still left in your eyes.

“I’m glad to be back,” you croak through the lump in your throat that again formed because of the crying. “I really missed you guys.”

“Pickle, why didn’t you say anything?!” Six pouts. “You should have told us she was hiding in there!”

Pickle gives a boyish laugh. “Sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“When did you come in anyway?” Five questions eagerly. “Have you eaten anything? Did you get any sleep?”

Six laughs and puts a hand to her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Honey, honey, let’s not overwhelm the poor girl.”

“Sorry!”

You blush at the attention, but admit that it’s extremely satisfying to be here with the others again. Whereas you felt being with Yosuke was a dream at first, you don’t even question the reality of being here now. You’re glad the others aren’t being too demanding about where you’ve been, but you know the question will eventually emerge.

Despite the tearful reunion between you and Lav, your companion seems to have adjusted finely to your presence again. She dons her usual visage and acts casually. You suppose she doesn’t want anyone else to see what she looks like with her walls down.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, her voice kind and sweet. “We were all really worried, you know?”

“I can imagine,” you respond with a weary laugh. “I’m really sorry that I-“

“Don’t apologize!” Blue stops you, raising her hand up. Though she hesitated before, she has now returned to her usual self. “Whatever reason you were gone, I can guarantee it was out of your control. You don’t owe us a sorry. We’re just happy you’re home.”

Home…It’s not the word you wanted to hear when the doctors said it, but now that you’re here with friends, you dislike the term less. As long as it’s with your family, it is home.

“I guess I should be so lucky to be in Ten’s presence,” Pickle laughs. “She was starting to sound like some local legend.”

“Oh yeah, she’s a regular cryptid,” Six jokes with a big grin.

“I guess I keep ‘coming back from the dead’ so to speak,” you add, partially out of still being bothered by Micah’s statement from before. It dawns on you just how often you’ve scared your friends by disappearing. “But I’m glad to meet you too. I just still can’t get over that name of yours.”

“Pickle is a good name for him,” Five remarks with a casual shrug. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“We were sort of surprised when he showed up.” Lav’s tone remains casual, but you hear an undertow of sadness. “But we tried to make him feel welcome. It’s like the one real job we do have in this place other than you know what.”

“I did feel pretty welcomed,” Pickle replies happily. “Sorry if I was kind of shy though.”

Blue shrugs. “Violet was the same way, just like, a lot worse.”

“I remember you mentioning that, but I still don’t believe it. She seems so nice.”

It’s strange hearing this casual banter now, but you don’t much mind it.

“She’s gone through a lot of changes since she first came,” Five tries to give a quick explanation. “Most of us have, really.”

“Yeah, and some of that change was because of Ten,” Blue cheekily adds. She then looks your way and gives a wink. “Right?”

You blush. “I would imagine things would have changed whether or not I was there.”

Lav gives a half-smile. “Ten, even now you still choose to be so humble. Give yourself some credit, won’t you?”

“I’ve heard a lot about the things you did for everyone,” Pickle adds with a nod. “I always thought you sounded nice. I admit I liked having my talk with you.”

This statement only makes Blue raise a rather curious brow. “Did you cut her hair too?”

“Yup! Just a little though. And doing it gave us a chance to talk a little.” Pickle then smirks. “You gonna let me touch yours anytime soon?”

“Ugh, no way!” Blue pouts. Defensively, she takes the length of her ponytail and holds it in her palm while recoiling from Pickle entirely. “I like my hair long, and I like taking care of it myself.”

Five reaches a hand up and offers a high-five to Blue, which she reciprocates without a second thought. “Same here! I learned to take care of my own when my doctor didn’t know what to do with it. And I know they're still a doctor, but Gale helps sometimes too when I have my bad days.”

You frown. Milos sounds like he doesn’t take very good care of his Number unless it’s the bare minimum. As it is, Gale’s said they often step in to help out and fill the gaps that man leaves. You’re grateful that Five has someone like Six to help her through things, and that she’s able to be independent in her own ways too. Even for as disappointed in Gale as you are for being part of the facility, it's admittedly noteworthy that they take care of Five too.

“I could help if you want, you know,” Pickle chimes in. “But I get it. I wouldn’t let anyone touch my hair either.”

Your eyes trail over to Lav, who’s observing the scene just as you are with a gentle smile on her face.

“And what about you?” You ask. “I’ve never seen you with a braid before.”

She blushes and picks up the thing in her hand, running her palm along the braid. “Oh! Pickle taught me how to do it this way. He said it might help keep hair out of my face better than just a ponytail. I actually stopped to mess with my hair after Sven brought me in so I could put it up. He doesn’t really like me with my hair up.”

“Like anyone gives a shit what Sven thinks,” you say with embitterment. “Sounds like he hasn’t changed.”

Strangely, getting back into normal conversation with everyone hasn’t been all that difficult, other than the huge hump of the initial interaction. You’re glad that it’s not so hard now, though. It almost feels like you never left, almost as if you’re just picking up where you left off. It’s refreshing.

“Nobody really has but our group, huh?” Six gives a hearty laugh. “Look, don’t bother worrying over the other doctors. Focus on us.”

This causes you to remember the paper in your hands. “Ah, that reminds me…”

You again blush in your nervousness as your hands unfold the thing. By now, the paper is a tinge worn from how much you’ve been tightly squeezing at it. The other Numbers in the room crowd before you curiously, evidently having silently known about this thing you were holding and all the more curious about it now that you’re presenting it to them.

When you finally unveil your shoddy masterpiece, the others ooh and aah at it.

“Is that us?” Six questions with a light chuckle. “How cute!”

“Looks just like them,” Pickle adds chipperly. He doesn’t really let on that he already saw it, strangely.

Blue scrunches up her face and observes each line you made before simply going, “Good enough.”

You chortle a bit at the joking remark.

“When did you draw that?” Lav asks curiously. Having to explain it only makes your eyes shift away.

“Yosuke kept me in my room a few days, but he brought me stuff to draw with,” you explain. “So I drew this. I’ve been thinking about everyone a lot lately. It was you guys that kept me going.”

“I’m glad you remember us,” Five responds, though her lips then curve down in a light frown. “Did your doctor…?”

She doesn’t bother to finish, knowing she doesn’t need to the moment she catches sight of your slightly put-off face.

“Yeah. He did.”

Lav’s eyebrows scrunch up as she scowls. “He sure moves fast.”

Quietly, you fold the picture back up and continue to hold it in your fingers. Despite the tenseness of the atmosphere now, Pickle tries to keep things light.

“Well anyway, you can probably put that on the wall in the crafts room.”

“First thing’s first, though!” Five adds, picking up on this desire to keep things upbeat. “Young lady, you haven’t answered my question. Have you eaten?”

“No,” you answer sheepishly. You’re admittedly grateful for their attempt at distracting from the awkward topic. “I was going to later. I stopped first to see Charlie, but I came rushing over here when he mentioned someone was here already.”

“That’s another thing Ten did for us,” Blue tells Pickle. “We didn’t really used to talk to Charlie before. Pretty sure she just said 'fuck it' one day and started conversing with the guy. You’re pretty lucky that he can at least write a little now. He used to just use faces. It actually got a little confusing at times.”

You wearily smile. “I’m still not sure just how long I was gone, but I’m glad he’s able to communicate a little better.”

Pickle remains affixed to the topic of Charlie. “That guy creeped me out at first, actually. But I realized he’s pretty nice.”

Six nudges the boy’s arm. “Hey, he sure warmed up to you fast.”

“Guess so. The workers seem kind of mysterious around here, though. I can’t imagine why they go along with all this.”

“Maybe they’re like us and don’t have a choice.” Blue shrugs. “But at least someone like Charlie can make the best of a bad situation. I dunno about the others.”

If you could explain what you know about the workers to them you would. Hearing their vague guesses now only hurts given that you know the truth about the once mysterious group. But now that you’re undoubtedly under The Overseer’s watchful eye, you have to be careful what you say.

Hoping to shift gears again, you try to ask something else. “How have the others been? And you guys?”

“Nothing much to speak of,” Lav remarks in response. “Other than Pickle joining our ranks, we’ve all pretty much been going along like normal.”

“Well, mostly,” Six adds with a bit of a puffing of her cheek. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

This prompts Lav to butt in on the subject. Her tone shifts a bit as she remains straightforward.

“I should at least tell you before they show up—the twins are going through something right now, I have no idea what.” Lav shrugs. “They’ve been spending a bit of time apart, but they’re still on speaking terms at least and they still get along in front of us. It’s not something you’ll notice all the time, but I have caught them being a little distant now and then.”

“Oh…” You remain surprised by this news. You never thought they’d ever break off for any reason. Perhaps they’re fighting about something?

“Other than that, it hasn’t been too bad. Eight’s been talking more with Violet, and Violet’s been doing a lot better.”

You’re at least glad to hear that much. But…

“What about Cyrus?” You can’t help but ask. This question makes everyone look at one another nervously.

“He’s…okay,” Five tries to ease things in. “He’s just been kind of distant. We haven’t talked much to him unless he shows up on his own. But otherwise, he’s been kind of down. He’s usually like this when someone leaves.”

You notice Lav’s eyes drop to the side. You don’t question that she knows more about what’s going on with Cyrus than anyone else, something you can read off her expression without even having to dig for info. Perhaps you’ll ask her in private later.

Your heart sinks hearing about this. Maybe when Cyrus sees that you’re okay, he’ll cheer up. But you aren’t sure how you’ll approach him, nor can you really gauge how he’ll react to suddenly seeing you alive when he’s been, you presume, grieving a loss.

“I guess if it helps you understand, he’s acting like Violet did after they had their spat,” Six explains. “He hasn’t really been trying to hang around with us. We’ve just been giving him space because we know how he gets.”

“He’s always been hit hard by losses,” Blue’s casual tone turns grave. “I remember seeing him like this a few times. But if you ask me, he’s acting more like he did when Jade left.”

Five inhales deeply and slowly exhales. “Be that as it may, we have to just give him time. We’ve tried to be supportive, and that’s the best we can do.”

“I know he really appreciates it,” Six says with a half-hearted smile. “He even said he’ll be okay, he just needs time.”

“I just worry how he’ll react when he sees me,” you sigh. “I don’t want him to feel strung along because it’s like the third time he’s almost entirely lost someone he knows.”

“He wouldn’t think that.” Lav shakes her head and remains completely firm. “He’d be happy you’re here. Just like I—” She pauses. “Just like we were.”

For a third time, you all go silent. You bite your lip thinking about what you’ll say to Cyrus if he’s in such a bad mood. Seeing him hurt like this is going to only hurt you, but you’ll take the responsibility of helping him. He’s helped you so many times before, so you’d be remiss if you didn’t return the favor.

Suddenly, the gate can be heard grinding open again, and the loud noise makes you, Pickle, and Five jump a bit. Lav’s head turns toward the rec room entrance, her amber eyes fixated intensely on it.

“I should go see who that is,” she says. “I want everyone to see you again before we jump into things like normal.”

“Umm, what if it’s him?” Blue looks over at her friend with a nervous frown.

“I’ll bring him.” Lav asserts, beginning to walk off. “I want to give him space, but now that Ten’s back, I don’t want him to needlessly suffer more. I won’t let him hurt himself that way.”

Without awaiting an answer, she heads out the doors. By now, whoever’s come in has left to another room, because the hall is empty.

Only once the doors close behind her does anyone bother to say anything.

“Are you worried?” Five asks you. Your only response is to nod.

“It’ll be fine,” Blue perks up. “Just be you, that’s all.”

You pout. “I went through a hell of not knowing who I was for a long time. I’m not so sure it’s that simple.”

Another sigh escapes your mouth. “Anyway, is Nine alright? She seemed a bit more aggressive at the end there.”

“She’s just taking charge,” Pickle answers you. “I admit she’s a little scary when she gets down to business, but she does it because she cares. Nine’s been trying to keep everything under control and act as Cyrus while he’s down. But she’s got a bit more of a forward style than he does.”

“I think they were both pretty frazzled about you being gone,” Five adds while tucking a loose bit of curly hair back behind her ear. “Neither of them seemed to know what to think. She sort of ended up talking to me and Peaches about a lot of the stuff she was struggling with. You were always pretty close with them and Eight, right?”

“Yeah,” you don’t try to hide it. It seems everyone’s sort of taking guesses about your closeness with the two now. At the very least, Five and Six seem to have picked up on it far better. Whether it’s because they can see what’s going on, or because Lav straight up told them her feelings, you aren’t sure. But you don’t hold it against the girl regardless. You’d have turned to the others too If she or Cyrus had been the ones who disappeared. “That doesn’t make you feel bad, does it?”

“Why would it?” Five gives you a rather perplexed look. “I spend most of my time with Six and not you guys. If anything I feel bad for flaking to spend time with her. So do what you like, you know?”

“Like Blue said, don’t apologize,” Six adds with a laugh. She again nudges your shoulder. “Chin up, dude. You made it.”

“Through…what exactly?”

Pickle’s sudden question makes you stiffen. What’s worse is that everyone in the room looks to you for an answer.

“I…I’d rather wait until everyone’s here,” you say, hoping that’ll buy you time to think about it more. “I get the feeling everyone will be.”

Your eyes subtly flicker up to the ceiling, but you say nothing of the cameras or of anything else.

“Hm…” Six hums. “I guess that’s a good idea. We can all get breakfast together that way. Or, uh, lunch. I’m not sure.”

Finally fed up with the mention of food, you scoff. “You’re both inching me forward toward eating because I look thin, right?”

Both peachy girlfriends glance at each other, then back at you.

“You don’t look too bad, but you do look a little weaker,” Blue is the one who chooses to be blunt. Though, thankfully, she isn’t making any jokes or light remarks. When your eyes trail to her face, she looks completely serious. “You should, um, take care of yourself.”

Your eyes drop this time. “I know. Yosuke wants me to do the same. I still can’t believe I changed that much. I didn’t even really start feeling different until everyone pointed it out.”

Pickle puts a hand on your shoulder when he catches your avoidant gaze. He smiles sweetly.

“If you feel okay, then you’re okay,” he says with an upbeat tone. “I’m sure everyone here’s just worried. Anyway, I just met you, so I can’t see anything wrong or different. So don’t worry about it!”

You give a half-smile as a thankful gesture, but don’t really say anything. In truth, you feel kind of bad for souring the reunion by being so frustrated over something minor, but the other girls don’t really seem put off by your being so forward about it. You’re at least glad they won’t make it a big deal.

Being open about how you feel is something you always struggled with, really. Even if you are a little weaker physically, you seem to have made unusual bounds in emotional strength. That’s probably really important now that your doctor’s interest in keeping you close has increased as much as it has.

Once, he seemed to want to break you. Once, he wanted you to only be his toy. Now, he seems to think he loves you. It’s not totally clear when that desire to make you more than a fuckdoll bloomed in him. Perhaps it was after he drugged you the first time, but perhaps it was even before. So much has gone on between you two that memories of Yosuke’s abuse of you almost blur together at times. The only thing you know certainly now is that you have to keep fighting for your own sanity with him.

And, above all, you should never ever let him have you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You’re snapped back into reality by Five’s concerned voice. “Or, at least, will you be okay?”

“Yeah,” you say without any real certainty. “I’ll be fine.”

You’ve been okay despite the ups and downs of your time at this facility, but suffering is still so taxing. Regardless, as you look between the Numbers around you, you are glad to be here.

Finally, you realize that Lav’s been gone a lot longer than need be. When you turn to the rec room doors again, you speak out.

“Maybe I should go check on Nine.”

Nobody really disagrees, but you barely take more than two steps before the doors suddenly part, the loud whirring and whooshing of the mechanism taking you aback.

You expect to see a number of people—perhaps the twins, Cyrus and Lav, Eight, or even Violet.

What turns out to be before you are indeed the twins, but it’s the circumstance of their arrival that leaves you with wide eyes and an open mouth. You gasp at the sight before you, even stepping back when you see it.

You expected to see your companions. What you hadn’t expected was the mulberry-shirted doctor ferrying the unconscious Three in his arms, cradling her fragile body like a child. Two, you notice is trailing quietly behind him, a rather nervous expression plastered on his face. The moment his attention trails to you, he freezes and goes cold.

Nathaniel’s familiar, gentle light brown eyes look down upon your shocked visage. Though he gives a rather confused look, his voice speaks softly.

“Ten?”

Chapter 72: Rest Twenty Nine - Reunion

When you don’t give Nathaniel a response of your own, the man continues on.

“I’m…surprised to see you here.”

Despite his words, Nathaniel sounds fairly calm. You, however, are absolutely horrified to see a doctor in here. Even if it is someone like him.

Nathaniel turns his body a bit and gestures to Two, whose fixation is still currently on you. Only when Nathaniel calls his number does he snap back to attention.

“Do take your sister to the couch,” he gently orders, handing Three’s limp body off to her brother. It’s then that you notice that the cast you’d gotten accustomed to seeing on Two is now completely gone.

Obediently, and without words, Two does as asked and gently cradles his sister in his arms. He avoids everyone’s wandering gazes as he passes by you and the others toward the couch that Pickle had been on earlier. While he lays Three’s unconscious body down, Nathaniel’s hand reaches up to sweetly tip your chin with his warm fingertips.

“My, are you alright?” Nathaniel asks. “You look frightened.”

“I…I’m fine,” you try to play through this. The others, you notice, are saying nothing. They’re mostly just avoiding looking at Nathaniel at all, evidently as put off by his presence as you are.

Nathaniel smiles a bit. “I’m glad you’re back. I admit I’ve thought a bit about you since the last chat we had. I wasn’t expecting you to suddenly disappear. No doubt Jonathan will be equally as delighted to see you again. You do remember us, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.” Your face goes red as Nathaniel’s fingers sweetly brush against the underside of your chin. He then looks up at the other Numbers and laughs.

“Ah, where are my manners? Good morning, everyone.”

The others merely grumble a hello, but Blue remains rather chipper in the sweet doctor’s presence. She’s the only one smiling and looking directly at the doctor before you.

“Doctor Miles!” She girlishly giggles, bounding toward the man and embracing him in a playful hug. The doctor gives a handsome chuckle and drops your chin to pet the top of Blue’s blonde head.

“Hello to you too, Four,” he greets kindly. “You seem rather lively this morning. But don’t get too comfortable chatting me up, alright? I only came to drop these two off. Jonathan was quite busy and asked me to escort his Number as well.”

Your head turns a bit, and you catch sight of Two kneeling by his sleeping sister, avoiding everyone’s wandering eyes in embarrassment with a turn of his head.

“Well that’s no fun,” Blue pouts. You’re genuinely flabbergasted seeing her act so babyishly with the man, even knowing from both of their words how friendly she can be toward him. “Can I at least walk you to the gate? Pretty please?”

Nathaniel beams. “Of course. But I do need to speak with dear old Maman about something, if that’s alright. I ask because I know you bore easily.”

This must mean Mom finished up with her visit. Either that was rather quick, or you’ve already been here a little while. You have no clue.

Blue chirps happily. “I don’t mind!”

Pleased by her response, Nathaniel then gives a polite goodbye to you and the others, then turns and walks off with Blue trailing at his side. Before she takes off, she turns to you and waves the back of her hand toward the twins, as if gesturing for you to take care of things with them. You suppose she’ll come back in a while.

The moment the rec room doors shut, everyone breathes a sigh of relief, as if they’d been holding a long breath the entire time Nathaniel was present.

“I got so used to us being here by ourselves that I almost forgot doctors could just waltz in like that,” you speak up with a slightly shaking voice. “I’ve never known them to come in. Not when others are here.”

“They only do it sometimes when they’re bringing in someone who’s asleep or something. It’s especially common in the morning,” Five explains. “I don’t think you were ever here early enough to see it happen often enough.”

“They sometimes even do it randomly,” Six adds. “And they don’t always really talk to us like that either. Kind of like when your doctor brought you in once, remember? When we first met? He just didn’t bring you all the way in, and he especially didn’t bother to say anything to us. I get the feeling he doesn’t really like having to interact with people needlessly. But yeah, the doctors can come in when they really need to.”

“We just try not to acknowledge it when they do.” Two’s low voice takes you aback, and your attention turns immediately to his red-clothed shape on the floor. He seems a little down, far too distracted by Three on the couch to even bother greeting you chipperly. “It’s uncomfortable, but usually short.”

“Two…” You murmur his name worriedly The red-headed young man turns toward you a bit and musters a weary smile.

“I’m really happy to see that you’re back,” he says. “Sorry I’m not all hyper or anything. You came at a bad time. Or else I did.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Two tries to be reassuring, but you aren’t entirely buying it.

“Is she?”

Again, Two tries to be assuring. “She’s just asleep. Probably from a visit, or else a checkup. I wouldn’t know. I woke up, talked with my doctor, and then Nathaniel showed up at my door. Jonathan just pawned me off on him and that was that. I don’t think Three will be asleep that much longer, though. She was mumbling in Nathaniel’s arms earlier. She sometimes tends to do that before she wakes up.”

He pauses a moment, letting something wash over him before deciding to stop letting it affect him in front of you. Two then puffs up a cheek in response to his quiet decision. “Forget about it. Are you alright?”

“No better than you, probably,” you try to joke. Two merely gives a weak chuckle.

“Got me there, I guess. I’m just a little worried, that’s all.”

He glances over at Pickle a moment and gives a polite wave, which the green-shirted young man returns.

“Well, Three’s gonna be ecstatic as hell when she wakes up and sees Ten,” Pickle says. “She seemed pretty bummed about her being gone.”

Again, you try to make a joke. “She’ll be more ecstatic than Two, anyway.”

Oddly, this doesn’t cheer the red-shirted young man up in the slightest. He gives a light pout instead. “I don’t have to act the same as her all the time.”

You bite your tongue then and look away. Now you feel like an asshole.

“We all were worried,” Five carries the conversation along, sensing this discomforting tenseness. “But we’re all happy she’s here. Now we just have to wait until Violet, Eight, and Cyrus see her. Maybe things will be a little better after that, right?”

“I guess,” Two grumbles. As if fighting with himself over something, he shakes his head and tries to stop being so frustrated. Instead, he stands up and leans his lower body on the couch cushion. “Well anyway, I guess you and Pickle finally met, huh?”

You try not to let the awkwardness of the previous exchange of statements deter you or sour your mood. Instead, you remain kind for your freckled friend.

“Yeah. He’s pretty alright.”

“Just alright?!” Pickle wails. “Hey! I cut your hair!”

Two finally laughs genuinely. “Right, it takes a pair of scissors for this guy to talk to people.”

You pause then, suddenly remembering the issue with Amber you were told about a long while back. It’s disheartening to say the least, and you’re rather upset at the intrusive thought. But you refuse to let that get in the way of what’s happening right now.

“And it takes you a bunch of dumb jokes.” Pickle teases back with a wink. Seeing him genuinely get Two to smile again makes you smile in turn. You feel bad that you upset him, but evidently he sensed it wasn’t your fault when he tried to brush the frustration aside. Getting upset and demanding an apology would be pointless in this case. At the very least, you just want to be happy that he’s doing okay otherwise.

“Maybe when Three wakes up we can all get some food,” Five giggles. “We were just hoping for everyone to arrive.”

Six nods. “Yeah, Nine was here a little while ago, but she heard the gate open and fucked off somewhere. I’m not sure who showed up. We thought it might be Cyrus or something. She said she’d drag him over even if he didn’t wanna come.”

“Well she didn’t say that exactly.”

Six waves a hand casually about. “Same thing.”

“Did Violet tell you that I was back?” You ask everyone. Only Six chimes in.

“I was the only one around the day she saw you, apparently. Everyone else had been plucked for visits, and by the time they came back, it was our turn. So, word didn’t really get around.

“What about yesterday?”

Six frowns. “Gale kept me a while for an assessment. In the end, I only really got to tell Five and Nine about it. I guess it was just bad timing.”

“Or maybe they knew you were back and didn’t want everyone knowing right away,” Two shrugs. “I sure wouldn’t put it past them.”

You sigh. “Neither would I.”

Perhaps Gale wanted raw reactions to your return from everyone, but could hardly control you being seen in the hall that day. No…actually, that’s a little far-fetched. Besides, the girls were apparently made aware about it, so it couldn’t have been on purpose. If Gale had no idea you were coming back so suddenly, there’s no way they could orchestrate all this in the same day. It probably really was just a big coincidence. But you still can’t help but make the association.

Is that a bad thing? Is it unrealistic to think that Gale’s masterminding most every circumstance in these rooms for the sake of observation?

God, it’s too much stress on your mind to just keep thinking about it. If you keep doing it, being in this facility is going to be even more unbearable. For now, you just let it go. Perhaps there really are things that just happen a certain way.

Soon, Blue again enters the rec room, hands on her hips and a sigh escaping her mouth.

“Gosh, Mummy likes to talk a lot!” she whines, completely oblivious to the fact that she does precisely the same thing with Nathaniel. She then perks up when she sees the twins. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Two pretends to pout. “You have fun cozying up to that bastard?”

“Oh, shut up!” Blue shoots back. “Honestly, he’s a good guy. Besides, I had to get him out of here. You guys looked really uncomfortable.”

Pickle crosses his arms and raises a brow. “I’m pretty sure he would have left anyway. You just really wanted to spend time with him.”

“You can always just admit it,” Six adds cheekily with a coy grin. Blue blushes.

“Yeah, so what?” She scoffs. “Anyway, Lav’s not back or whatever. So like, what now?”

“Hm, she is taking a while…” Five mumbles the observance aloud. She then looks your way. “Ten, maybe this is a good chance for you to go see who came in and meet up with them. If it is Cyrus, maybe it’d be good for you guys to be alone.”

You blush and look away. “It might not be him.”

“Don’t know until you try,” Two retorts casually with a shrug. “We’ll be fine here. But don’t flake out on food, alright? I’m actually super hungry. It’d also be nice to spend time with everyone together again.”

This banter only makes you attempt to give your red-shirted companion a little smile. “I won’t flake out, I promise.”

The unsettling events from earlier have since subsided, so your appetite has admittedly begun to return. Besides, having something to eat with everyone would probably be a good segue into talking about what you’re certain is on everyone’s mind. You just hope The Overseer is okay with what you choose to say.

“In the meantime, I’ll probably clean up the mess I made in the bathroom,” Pickle remains lighthearted. “I probably let hair all over the floor and sink.”

“Do the workers even care if we clean up for them?” Blue ponders the idea with a tap of a finger to her chin.

Two shrugs. “Who knows.”

It’s this next conversation between the group that you choose to head off on. You leave the sliver of folded paper with Five for the moment in want of finally freeing your hands for a bit.

By now, Two and Blue are both starting their own little exchange, and Pickle has decided to exit the conversation to take care of his own task. Five gives a cheerful last look before you leave, hoping to lift your spirits before your next encounter with someone. Seeing her try to keep things light is something you’re grateful for.

The hall is still empty when you head out, though you can hear Mom loudly chattering away with Monica with an unusually excited demeanor. You can’t much make out words, but you can hear her lively tone even from all the way here. Hoping that doesn’t mean she’s close to the entrance of the office, and subsequently hoping that she won’t catch you alone in the hall, you decide to quickly go to a room—any room at all.

At first, you try the arcade, wondering if the darker atmosphere of the room would be attractive to someone seeking to isolate themselves. No such person is around, though you give a bit of a smile at remembering Violet and Six challenging one another here. When your search proves fruitless, you try the library, another place you figure seclusion would be commonplace. Again, there’s nobody.

Your next instinct is to try the theater, but even that’s revealed as a futile gesture when you see absolutely nobody among the rows of bedding. In part, you half expected to see Cyrus there, limply laying across the burgundy cloth. You’re almost disappointed when he’s not.

Something sparks in your memory then, when you look at the bedded rows and out toward the stage. Something you’d struggled to remember about this area. Hoping to keep that memory, you sit on one of the rows and look up.

Upon seeing the metal awning, it dawns on you that the cameras might not be able to see this area. Back then, you’d only supposed it as a possibility. But you remember now—Gale slipped up and showed you a feed of this place. A part of these beds are completely hidden away from cameras. A small part, but a part nonetheless.

You sigh. Would It do any good to know that? At best, you might get some conversational privacy here. Though a small positive, it would mean all the world to you if your more intimate discussions weren’t visible or audible to Gale. And, of course, if you keep your voice low, certain other kinds of private discussions could take place. Right?

A huff of breath escapes your nostrils. It’s something to consider, perhaps, but you’re getting distracted. For the moment, you let this go and stand up to keep searching for Lav.

Your next effort leads you to the music room, and when the doors part, you almost expect to hear music being played.

Instead, you hear low, murmuring voices.

Your heart jumps a bit, but you’re glad that the search is over for now. Upon listening in closely, it seems Cyrus’ voice is not among those present. It’s Lav’s voice for certain. As for the other…

Your feet step closer to the familiar end of the L-shaped structure that guards the entrance, and when you finally turn into the rest of the room, your eyes immediately lock onto Eight.

He and Lav are sitting on the floor beside one another against the right wall, apparently having a long-drawn conversation about something. This, however, stops the moment they catch sight of your figure emerging from the corner of the cabinet. Lav gives a soft smile and stops talking, while Eight merely glances your way with his green eyes. He seems a bit too lost in a thought to suddenly be so excited by your presence—though, he’s never been excitable to begin with. However, when he looks over your way, he freezes. As do you.

Eight looks very much like you remember, and even when you can vaguely picture your doctor upon catching his eyes, it hardly bothers you now that you know who Eight is, and who he is not. Beyond his characterization, what makes him more distinct now is that he’s apparently grown his hair out just a little, and just enough to tie into a loose ponytail that barely juts out from the back of his head. It’s hardly even long enough to justify calling it a ponytail, you think. Regardless, you find it a welcoming change.

“Eight?” You call him with a rather shy voice. The young man simply looks at you a moment before letting out a relaxed sigh.

“It’s good to see you again. Glad you’re not dead.”

You shake your head, but wind up smiling a bit. “That’s a very you thing to say.”

This makes the young man give a quiet huff of amusement. “You’re still the same old you too, I see.”

“I was worried she might have forgotten us,” Lav adds with a laugh. “We’d have had to work pretty hard to make her remember.”

You give Lav a quick, subtle smile before turning back to Eight. “And what about you?”

Eight raises a brow. “Huh? What about me?”

“Your hair!” you point out amusedly. “Everyone else got their hair cut by Pickle. I’m shocked yours grew.”

Eight scoffs. “Pickle’s an okay kid, but I sure as hell don’t want him touching my hair. I don’t like being touched, and he keeps asking, so I’m letting it grow. You know, out of spite.”

“Sure sounds like you.” You sigh, knowing the young man isn’t being wholly serious. “But I’m happy to see things are going as they always do.”

“I suppose. I’ll be honest, seeing Pickle show up was a bit weird,” Eight goes on with a frown. “I wasn’t really expecting a sudden replacement.”

Lav scrunches up her brows in a light scowl. “Eight…”

Her warning tone sends Eight into a temporary silence. His green eyes trail toward the floor as he remains vexed by a thought. After a brief quiet, he looks back up at you and asks,

“Ten, I hate to say I’m worried about you, but I am. Where have you been?”

This question makes your heart sink, and your more pleasant demeanor melt away. Even Lav looks a bit downtrodden at the straightforward inquiry. You should have expected no less from the young man given how he is, but it still stings a bit when you stop smiling.

“I…guess that’s what you were talking about before I came, huh?” You take a shot. Neither Number really responds to this supposition, though you can see on their faces that it’s correct.

A sigh escapes your lips. “I want to tell you everything, but I can’t.”

“Why?” Eight’s sharp, adamant inquiry shakes you slightly. He almost sounds angry. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that he’s offended by your sudden absence. But you can tell by the worrisome glimmer in his eye that he’s merely concerned. You’ve only ever seen this look a few times.

“A lot of reasons.” You try to remain adamant and just as firm. “I was told I can tell you two and Cyrus a little more, but there’s still a lot I have to leave out even then, and there are things I’m not allowed to tell anyone else.”

“You were told?” Lav’s curiosity, too, is piqued. Her hovering instinct is kicking in. “What the hell happened? Who did-“

“Look, I know you’re curious, but believe me—I can’t tell you.” You put your foot down. “Not all of it, anyway. Anything I can tell you is very limited for a reason. Just promise me you won’t ask too many questions, okay? I know you were all worried, but I just can’t have anyone stirring things up. Please.”

Lav settles herself a bit and lets out a frustrated breath. “Okay.”

Eight, on the other hand, merely nods and watches you closely.

“Like I said, I can only tell you two and Cyrus about this, so please don’t tell it to the others,” you start off. You hadn’t expected to have to bring up the topic so suddenly, but perhaps it’ll be easier to tell the others a shorter, more concise version of the story as expected of you if this is done now.

You won’t divulge too much information right away, hoping that a general summary is enough to give an answer without breaking The Overseer’s set rules.

“I was taken away and confined to a room for a while,” you explain. “Chained to a bed behind a curtain, and only unchained for bathroom breaks and checkups. Nobody knew where I was or if I was alive except a few doctors, but I stayed in that bed for the most part.

“When the people watching me needed to do something, they’d put me out. And when I was awake, I had to be quiet. They threatened me, and I learned quickly not to speak out against them. I tried to distract myself from everything by remembering you guys or looking around the room, but after a while it was too hard to keep myself held up.”

You grimace at the memory.

“I can’t tell you who kept me,” you continue. “I know you’re going to ask. I can’t tell you what happened in detail either other than that it was something of a punishment for my doctor and myself. But it was hell. I was abused, neglected, and…”

As you trail off, you bring a hand to your other arm and hold it close to you. Your eyes refuse to meet Lav’s or Eight’s right now.

“…I learned and saw and endured a lot of horrible things. Things nobody here should ever have to deal with.”

Both Numbers seem to understand just what you’re getting at based on the way their faces scrunch up disdainfully. It’s Lav, however, who speaks up.

“Is there anything you’re allowed to tell us?”

You pause a moment and try to think on The Overseer’s rules. You can’t really talk about Jade’s doctor or the feeds, but you can talk about Jade’s fate and about your having seen Monica and Gale. No more, you wager.

But where do you even start?

“I…” You hesitate, trying to mull it over. “I saw two doctors. I can’t tell you what we really talked about, though.”

“Are you allowed to tell us who?” Eight questions. You nod.

“Yes, but I’d rather you not press them about it.”

Lav chimes in this time. “You know we wouldn’t be able to anyway. We just want to know. You had us really worried, Ten.”

“I’m aware,” you assert, somehow vexed this time by such coddling. “I could see it on everyone’s faces when I came. And even when I was laying in that bed, all I could think about was how worried you all must have been about me. I felt guilty, like it was my fault I was taken away and my fault that you would hurt because of it. I know it wasn’t. I know this is all their fault. But I felt so bad. You have no idea!”

You’d almost start crying again if not for your desire to push through this discussion. It’s not particularly easy to stomach when you have to relive everything over and over again just to be able to tell your friends what’s gone on. Even now the thought of being chained up or strapped to The Overseer’s chair in which he performs his horrible procedures is simply petrifying.

The two Numbers don’t say a word upon seeing your frustrations come to light. They let you go on, and so you don’t hesitate to do so.

“I saw Gale and Monica,” you refocus the topic. “Monica first, then Gale. I can’t tell you much about what we talked about or what happened, but they were the only glimmers of hope I had when even the thought of you couldn’t save me. If I had never gotten to talk to them, I’m not sure I would have lasted.”

Your hand raises up to the cheek that you remember Gale kissing. You almost can’t believe how desperate you were for some kind of affection that you dared to ask them for it. Your cheeks burn red at the memory.

“I don’t like them for what they do here,” you continue. “I despise their roles and who they’ve chosen to be. But I needed them. And they didn’t once make fun of me for that. I owe them gratitude for their help. But I still don’t trust them.”

You pause, then, when Monica pops in your mind. The others should know what you learned. And, as it is, The Overseer said you could choose to disclose certain things if you liked. Jade especially. But…

“There’s something else,” you opt to say. “A few things, actually.”

“What?” Lav presses further despite the horrified look on her face. You wonder if she’s been able to process anything you’ve said. It sounds nonchalant coming from your mouth, but the subjects you’ve covered have been grim. Even the ones you've been vague about.

Eight remains quiet, thinking to himself as he absorbs your words. You aren’t sure just how he’s taking the news of your confinement and abuse. The concerned glint in his eye has not faded, but he’s refusing to be upfront about it.

You bite your lip, uncertain of how to make your words easy to grasp. The things you should tell them aren’t worth sugar-coating. There’s no way to.

“Jade’s dead,” you say bluntly, averting your eyes from the other Numbers all the while. “I know you all probably figured as much, but I know with certainty now that she died a while ago. Probably even after she was taken away.”

When you have the courage to look back at Eight and Lav, they appear shaken by the news. You’re very certain they must have guessed she was dead, so it’s not that fact that you think has bothered them. It’s…

“I don’t want Cyrus to know, but I figured you should.”

“That’s not something we should hide from him either,” Lav refutes this. “I don’t want to hurt him with that any more than anyone here, even if he’s sort of already figured it out. But we can’t just ignore it.”

“There are a lot of things he knows and doesn’t tell us because he wants to protect us,” Eight argues back. “We could easily do the same for him. Even though he knows Jade’s gone, we don’t need to tell him that to his face. That’d be adding insult to injury.”

He looks away. “And he’s already hurt.”

Lav glances down and tries to think it over, but does not bother responding further about it. You presume she’ll stay quiet if only you and Eight do too.

No, that’s not it. Something else is bugging her. When she isn’t looking on in shock at your words, she keeps avoiding your eyes whenever the both of yours meet. Now that Cyrus has been brought up as a topic, and your focus has narrowed to two people rather than several, it’s even clearer.

Is something wrong?

There’s no chance right now for you to ask with Eight in the room. You figure she won’t discuss it in his presence. So, rather than confront her about it now, you opt to keep going with what you need to.

“The other thing I learned,” you start with hesitation in your voice. “Is, um…”

You aren’t quite sure why it’s harder to bring this up than what happened with Jade. Maybe because it’s more personal?

“I found out from Monica,” you try to prime the topic. “I was scared when she told me. Even now I’m worried about what it means for me because I don’t know if I’ll die or completely change as a person or what. I don’t know what to expect and it’s scary.”

“What are you talking about?” Eight raises a concerned brow. You again bite your lip.

“I can still get pregnant.”

Though Lav’s gaze was turned away, it snaps immediately back to you the moment these words are uttered. Even Eight looks on with a rather frozen, intense look that you can read worry from despite how subtle it is by comparison.

Lav brings a hand to her mouth while she attempts to process this news. You’ve never seen her this wretchedly torn apart before.

“Oh god…” she almost whispers. While she attempts to get a grip on this reality, Eight remains completely silent and won’t even look back your way. His green eyes fixate to the floor as if in shame. He knows very well without having to verbalize that it spells danger for you given the nature of your doctor and his obsession with you.

It hurts your heart to see the both of them this distraught, to watch as they quickly piece together every awful thing this news means for you, for them, and for the others. But you can do no more than try to be reassuring despite the fact that even you are horribly frightened by the same words and the reality they present.

“I can’t really get into many details,” you try to croak out through your shaken state. “But I think I might be okay. There’s a huge chance that it might not happen because of how my body’s changed here, and even if it does, there’s still a huge chance that I’ll still come back. Maybe like Sienna, or-”

“Those are nothing but what-if’s!” Lav refutes this in a panic, her voice overpowering you in its interruption. “Fuck, this is bad…”

You press your lips tightly together, hurt by her snapping back but understanding well why she is. Lav’s always wanted to control certain things to cope with the harshness of her time here. She needs to have a handle on things. Now that this is something out of her control, she hardly knows how to respond. Since this is your body that things are happening to, you understand well that feeling. You have no control over anything.

After a long bout of silence, Eight’s eyebrows scrunch up in a scowl, though his green eyes remain wholly glued to the floor.

“Does Yosuke know?” He demands with a firm voice. Your nervousness rises hearing his sudden, harsh tone, but you again try to remind yourself that this is coming from a place of worry. He’s never reacted to things quite like the others have.

“No,” you answer openly. “And I wish I could say he never will, but he might. When, I don’t know. It depends when my body decides to make it known.”

You suppose the other two know what you’re talking about without having to ask. It still irks you that such common knowledge was shirked from your memory. Not like it would have changed anything other than by making you seem less incompetent.

“Yosuke has been obsessed with the idea of getting me pregnant for the sake of claiming me,” you say straightforwardly despite how embarrassing the words are. “Ever since that night that he did what he did here. Ever since he drugged me, even. It’s like when he brought it up the first time, something clicked in him. I can’t make heads or tails out of why he’s gotten so fascinated with it.

“My doctor has always said he loves me and that he wants me to be his. He’s started to act even worse since I came back because of this obsessive though he planted on his own and let grow so much. I have no idea how he’ll react when he finds out about this, but I’m scared.”

“He wouldn’t do something crazy again, would he?” Lav asks with a hint of desperate worry in her voice.

You look away. “He might. I can’t really tell. He’s already been talking about wanting to keep me away from you guys because he can’t stand the idea of us caring about one another when all he wants is for me to give him my attention and affection.”

Eight, whose back has been pressed against the wall this whole time, now leans forward on his crossed legs, and places an elbow on his knee. As if thinking, his hand clutches at his jaw and mouth.

“He was never this bad,” he says lowly. “He was always a creep, but somehow this feels worse.”

You frown. “And now that I’m back, he’s gotten so messed up that if I don’t try to take care of his mood, he might do something stupid and get both of us in trouble again. So all I can do now is cozy up to him. Even though he knows I’m not really doing it because I want to, he’s enjoying it. It’s sick.”

You look over Eight’s way and hesitate a bit before asking something you’re sure is personal.

“Did he even care about you like that? To that extent?”

Eight shuts his eyes at the memories of his time with Yosuke as they return to him.

“He used to, for lack of a better word, ‘like’ me,” He decides to say. “Certainly not like he ‘likes’ you. I don’t know if I was given to him or if he picked me, but he was new at the time and one of the only doctors without a Number. I remember him playing his games of niceties in the hopes that I’d budge, but I never did. I felt him slowly getting tired with me when he realized I wasn’t what he really wanted.”

“Would he have gotten as bad with you as he did with me if you had been the way he wanted?”

Eight glowers. “I have no idea anymore, and I don’t like to think about it. I figured he was just putting up with me as a guy and working with what he had when, in the end, he really wanted a girl. So, I’ve guessed that it’s possible he didn’t choose me on purpose. Maybe it’s because he was new and didn’t have the right to pick, if they do get to choose people on their own before they’re even brought here. I’d pondered the idea, but I can’t say for sure. In any case, I think his want to keep up with me came from how much of my interests piqued his. He might have tired of me even sooner if not for that.”

You scratch nervously at the back of your neck. “Yeah…he’s mentioned your talents before, and that you two used to talk about that stuff. But back then, when I brought you up, he seemed to think you two were nothing alike.”

“We aren’t,” Eight agrees. “Everyone’s thought I look like him, and that was always enough for them to peck about it. You even thought so too, didn’t you?”

“Sorry,” you remain sheepish. Eight does not linger on the apology.

“Despite that, you’re one of the only people other than me who has gotten to see just how he is. You know now that we’re not the same. Don’t you?”

His eyes trail up to you, and his hand drops back into his lap. “Do you still see him when you look at me, Ten?”

You don’t avert your gaze upon noting the tenseness of his stare. The question takes you aback, but it’s not one that’s come from nowhere. Even back then, you recall him being irked by the association. It wasn’t easy to help at the time, but now you know with certainty who Eight is, and who he is not.

“No. I know you’re not him.”

Eight continues to assess you a moment, but ultimately seems to accept this answer when his shoulders drop and he relaxes a little. When your eyes trail back to Lav, she seems perplexed by another thought. You wind up calling her name softly, grabbing her attention.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

The bothered Lav folds her arms. “He’s going to have to know. Especially if…”

You wince a bit upon understanding her meaning and who she’s talking about. Eight averts his gaze when he comes to the same conclusion.

“I’ll tell him,” you insist. “But not now. If Cyrus finds that out after everything with Jade, it’ll only hurt him more.”

“The only other alternative is never telling him at all,” Eight chimes in. “I don’t disagree that you should refrain from opening old wounds for his sake, because doing so hardly helps him. But this particular issue is something that’s happening now, and that will affect him in the future. Cyrus isn’t stupid. He knows that things are finite here. Don’t let hurting him stop you from letting him know what he needs to know. He should be prepared just as you should.”

“You’re not suggesting she tell him so soon, are you?” Lav remains perplexed. “That’s only going to break his heart. Especially because of the similarities to…”

She trails off, not wanting to say it. Eight scowls a bit.

“It’s been broken for a long time,” he affirms with an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. “He’s been holding that thing together by a thread woven from those of us he holds dear. Memories of our times together, and all the love he has for everyone. But his heart always shatters regardless, and he always picks up the pieces on his own because he thinks he has to. If not for all the work he puts into repairing himself for the sake of others, Cyrus would have ended up just like Amber.”

“You don’t know that!” The prompt racing of your worried heart upon hearing such troubling words only leaves you defensive. However, Eight refuses to let down.

“I know that for certain,” he asserts gravely. The way his face is twisting up, he doesn’t seem to want to believe it, or perhaps he doesn’t like the idea. “I caught him one day, in the crafts room. I had gone back for some notes I left there, and he was standing hunched over a pair of scissors. He said he wouldn’t dare, but that it crossed his mind more often than he wanted to admit, especially after each loss he faced.”

Eight runs a bothered hand over his head. Scratching at it restlessly.

“He said not to tell anyone. But I can’t stand seeing him that way. The fucker pecked at me so much for my contrasting beliefs as if what I did and thought was a bad thing. To see him so low is—well, I’ve never really caught him like that before. I have my own opinions of death, but Cyrus and I aren’t the same. So seeing him act this way is just difficult to watch.”

Lav’s face twists up as if she’s been wrought with a mixture of horror and sadness. Even you don’t know how to react to these words. You always suspected Cyrus was struggling even when he said he was okay. He just doesn’t like to let people worry. But he’s even got Eight genuinely concerned about him. The grey-clothed young man hardly ever cared about the concept of death. But now even he’s concerned over Cyrus’ own frightening demeanor toward the concept at such a low point.

Eight’s words only sting further when you fully realize the remark about how Cyrus goes through this regularly. Perhaps there’s a good chunk of time between losses, but the fact that he’s always considered the idea of giving up when someone is taken away is simply horrific. He’s always done well to keep himself afloat, but you wonder just how much it’d take for him to actually do something reckless.

What irks you Is that if he ever becomes reliant on others too much, then he could easily fall. Losing people in this place is a guarantee, and he’s always known this. But if Cyrus gets too attached to someone the way he did Jade, then losing that someone would only send him irreversibly spiraling down.

Perhaps he always knew that. He always wanted to be present for others but struggled to let people in. Is that why…?

“I’m sorry,” Eight apologizes upon seeing your nearly-tearful state. “It’s a bitter reality of one side of him, but I don’t think it’s one I should have hidden from you two especially. Like I said, being quiet about what doesn’t matter anymore probably Is for the best, but I don’t think you should hide certain other things from him either. But don’t overwhelm him all at once. That’s hardly what I’m saying to do. It’s probably better you wait to be realistic with him when he’s not so down, but not so up and hopeful that he could be damaged even harder with reality.”

The room goes silent a while, with all three of you avoiding looking at each other. You aren’t sure what the hell to say about all this. Eight’s being a bit forward about what he thinks should be done because that’s simply his style of approach for this kind of issue. While you still think there’s merit in softer approaches, you suppose Eight’s right that being too soft on Cyrus could only hurt him more when this place doesn’t exactly lend itself to happy endings for its prisoners.

Being in these rooms can truly distract one from the horrible pain that awaits outside them. And, in some people’s cases, they want to be numb to all that pain. Blue is probably someone who’s perfected the art of being numb to it by lying constantly to herself, long enough to believe such lies. You can’t exactly say it’s a healthy approach, but at least she’s able to handle herself now.

However, Cyrus has undoubtedly been beat down by this place despite his best efforts to fight it. He couldn’t really ever do what Blue does because he can’t bring himself to lie about these things to himself. Instead, he admits truths and absorbs the damage they bring. His coping methods only act as shields, but even those can be broken.

“What if he leans too hard on me?” You ask. “What if he becomes overly dependent? Or, alternatively, what if he refuses to ever talk to me again because he’s sick of me constantly leaving and returning, because he’s afraid of being hurt again?”

“We aren’t sure how he’ll react,” Lav admits lowly. “But we’ll help any way we can if it goes poorly.”

“I’m not particularly the positive type,” Eight adds. “But I think he’ll be alright. You just have to know how to talk to him. And of all of us here, he lets his walls down most around you.”

You give a weary attempt at a laugh of disbelief that sounds more like a huff of air. “Eight, you shouldn’t undermine yourself. You’ve always tried to keep him in line too, and I’m sure there’s things he says around you he wouldn’t around me. Ever since we talked together with him. I’m sure he really appreciates having a guy to talk to. Like how I really like having Nine here with me to talk things out.”

Eight blushes a bit.

“I guess,” he grumbles admittedly. “I just hate seeing him like this because I know he’s better than that. He’s not the defeatist type. There’s only so much I can do for him, but fine, I guess I don’t have to do it alone.”

“I wanna stay positive too,” Lav chimes in. “He’s going to struggle a little, but I think he’ll be okay. And if he isn’t, he has us three to get him back into shape, right?”

Despite the dreariness the prior conversation brought, you manage to muster a slight, subtle smile.

“Yeah.”

Undoubtedly the things you’ve said to Lav and Eight have both bothered them utterly. But even they must know that nothing can be done to change what’s already been set in motion. Your only choice is to wait and see what happens. The only thing you can think of to do is lash out against your fate, but doing so would be risky. You can’t afford to fight back much other than with words, but those only do so much.

If only you had help. But not everyone would be so willing to risk their life for something they believe in. You don’t think it’d be fair to ask. Everyone here wants to leave or retaliate against the doctors for what they do, you’re sure. But there’s so much fear surrounding the idea that you’re equally as sure that many of them would dissent against doing anything that could prematurely end their lives. Besides, planning anything is near impossible with the cameras around.

That dream you had only worsens the disdain you feel upon thinking about this. You couldn’t bear to try leaving on your own. You wouldn’t. And, who’s to say that any attempt at fleeing wouldn’t result in the exact same end as your dream?

The others don’t know a thing about The Overseer, nor Lucius. They only live in fear of what awaits them if they fight back, and that’s enough for The Overseer and his employees to keep their prisoners in line. Even you, despite knowing the truth about who he is and how he runs things, are sill rather ruled by the same fear. The only thing that separates you from the others is that you know with certainty the face and name of the person who will come to kill you for being disobedient. You aren’t sure whether that’s more or less haunting than just the fear of an unknown killer.

Frustrated thinking about it, you attempt to shake away the unhappy idea for now. It seems the conversation between you, Lav, and Eight has hit a point where nothing else can really be said about what you’ve brought up. So, you opt to drop it all for the moment. Surely they’ll keep everything in mind.

Lav is able to pick up on this desire to shift the mood, so she tries to go back to her usual self.

“Um, well anyway, Eight,” she perks up. “Why don’t you go join the others for a bit? We might all get together now that Ten’s back.”

“You left before it was suggested, but they want to eat together,” You add with an attempted smile.

“A celebration, I presume?” Eight questions with a raise of his brow. Without waiting for an answer, he pushes himself off the floor and stands up. “Fine. I’ll go mingle with the locals a bit. I’m sure you two have something to discuss by the way you’re looking at each other anyway.”

“Eight!” Lav cries out in embarrassment. The young man merely gives a cheeky smirk and walks off without another word. Your lavender-dressed friend gives a bit of a sigh when the doors are heard opening and promptly shutting.

“I swear, that guy’s getting cockier,” she grumbles.

You don’t really react to her comment, instead focused on your friend. “Are you okay?”

When she hears these words uttered, Lav picks her head up and looks on at you with a frown.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She then blushes. “Wait, is it obvious I’m bothered by something?”

“A little,” you give a light giggle. “I don’t blame you though. I’d imagine I kept you and everyone worried as hell. I kept wondering how you would all react to me being back. I admit, I almost thought you’d be mad.”

“What?! Why?”

You frown. “I don’t know. I guess I overthink things sometimes. But, you know, I really got through a lot because of you.”

Lav remains confused. “Huh?”

You’re the one whose cheeks grow red this time. It’s a little odd to bring it up now of all times, isn’t it?

“The stuff you and Cyrus both taught me,” you try to explain briefly. “I used it. I know it sounds really stupid, but after I hit a certain point, it was all I could think of to do. When I talked with Gale, I started feeling a little better because I had someone to let out all my frustrations to.”

You’re sure Gale must be enjoying this subtle praise of yours. It’s jarring to have this conversation with your friends knowing that someone is watching. But again, you refuse to let it deter you.

“And when I had a slightly better handle on how I was feeling, I resorted to the things you and Cyrus both taught me to try keeping myself grounded. So, before you tell me anything, I want to thank you for that. It meant the world to me.”

Lav looks on at you dumbfoundedly, though her expression morphs into one of worry as her brows tilt upward and her jaw drops a bit.

“Did Gale and Monica hurt you at all?”

“Not at all,” you speak on their behalf, something you never thought you’d end up doing. “They helped. The ones who hurt me, they’re the ones I can’t really talk about.”

“Don’t answer if you can’t, but I’m assuming one of them was the boss here, right?” Lav asks forwardly. You don’t answer her, but you don’t much have to. Lav sees you biting your lip awkwardly, and this causes her to huff angrily through her nose.

“If I was there, I would have punched him in the face,” she says. “Even if it got me killed. Fuck him.”

“D-don’t say that so frivolously!” You’re taken aback. Will The Overseer be offended by such bitter comments? You aren’t sure. He and Lucius both seemed to be unbothered by all the things others have said about them. But you can’t much speak of either man to any of the Numbers, so you don’t elaborate why this worries you. Again, Lav can gather why you might need to be quiet about it. She doesn’t much press the topic further.

“Anyway, I’m…really happy that you managed to center yourself,” she goes on. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed by, you know. Sometimes when you’re stuck in hell, you do whatever you can think of to get by.”

She then leans her head back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling with her amber eyes slightly glazed over as she thinks on something.

“Anything at all, sometimes.”

“What’s bothering you?” You guess rather easily that she’s troubled again. Lav goes quiet a moment in response, perhaps as if mulling over what to say.

“Cyrus really hasn’t been talking to me lately,” she admits. “I know he’s been avoiding most everyone, but he’s been avoiding me particularly.”

This takes you aback. “Is he mad at you?”

“No,” Lav sighs. “We kind of…had a thing. And I feel bad about it. I think he does too. I think he’s just ashamed.”

You raise a brow. “A…thing?”

Your lavender-colored friend does not once let her eyes waver from the ceiling. Her body tenses up, despite the distant stare she’s giving off.

“Ten, I’m really sorry,” she apologizes. “Were both at a really low point, and we didn’t know what to do. I talked with him a few times before it happened, and after it did, we stopped talking entirely. We thought it’d be worth a shot at the time. Maybe it was just desperation, I don’t know.”

You blush a bit when you realize what she’s getting at. “Oh…”

It’s this reaction that makes Lav put her head back down and look over your way. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hide it from you after all that talk Eight was doing. You deserve to know. So please don’t thank me for helping you when all I did was go behind your back.”

You notice again that her eyes are wrought with hurt, even a little wet as she confesses to you what happened. Still, she refuses to cry. Perhaps she feels like it’s not her place to when she’s “guilty” of something. But…

“I’m not mad,” you try to gently assure her. “I care about him, but I don’t own him or you. I’m more disappointed that there’s a rift between you two because of it. I don’t want more problems in this group over things that hardly matter when there’s so much more to worry about.”

“I know, I said I wouldn’t cling to you that way when you were crying on my shoulder,” Lav gives a bit of a sniff as she continues trying to hold back her tears. “And I went and did something stupid. I always thought I was better than that.”

“It’s okay to make mistakes, isn’t it?” You ask. “Isn’t that what you all always taught me?”

You frown and again bite your lip. “I always thought that I was so weak compared to all of you. Even now I sometimes still think I am. But I guess I have my own strengths, as you have yours. But it’s not a crime to mess up now and then, right? We can’t be perfect.”

You then sigh defeatedly. “Even some of the doctors are like that. They can act as nice as possible while still being awful people. Not to say I find them ‘good’ in any capacity. I think you guys are more ‘good’ than they are.”

Lav attempts to give a slight, playful scoff through her torn-apart state.

“That depends on how you’d define good, doesn’t it?”

You lower a brow. “Now you sound like Eight.”

Wiping away a stray tear, Lav gives another weary laugh. “I have been spending a lot of time around him too. And Violet, by extension. Anyway, you don’t have to comfort me. I did a stupid thing. I just feel bad that I might have hurt him, hurt you, and hurt myself.”

“Who are you trying to make it up to, then?”

Lav frowns and avoids your gaze. “I don’t know. Whoever feels hurt by it.”

You smile a bit. “You mean you?”

This question causes your companion’s cheeks to grow red again. “I’m trying not to be selfish, you know. Besides, I’m still worried about him. I’m trying to let him do his own thing, but he’s been sulking for a while. I don’t want to break the ice by talking about myself.”

You say nothing, but approach Lav and extend a hand to her. She looks up at you with surprise, pausing a moment. With nothing else coming from your mouth, she sheepishly takes your hand and allows you to help her up. For as kind as your gesture is, you legitimately struggle to keep your footing with how strong Lav’s grip is and how hefty her weight is compared to yours. You’d nearly forgotten you were still very frail after being distracted by everything else.

Despite the awkward setback, you don’t quit trying to keep the moment going. Your fingers curl around Lav’s palm once she’s standing before you, a gesture she quietly reciprocates.

“You know, being with you two was the happiest I felt in a long time,” you admit. “I felt loved that day. I felt free. I’m not exactly happy with what happened after. It was frightening, and I’m still so afraid of what my future holds. But I won’t let something like this get in the way of how much I love you and Cyrus both. So don’t apologize. I only want you two to be okay.”

Lav looks on at you with a shocked expression, her cheeks a bit flushed at your admission. Though she remains quiet while absorbing these words, her face soon melts into a warm, enamored smile.

“You really have changed,” she remarks happily. Even now, she still looks like she wants to cry.

“I suffered,” you say. “And I remember every bit of that suffering. I’ve come to see how much that changes a person. I’m still really stupid about a lot of things, but I know a lot more than I did before. But other than the experience, I have you to thank for that change. You helped me through a lot. Being here is still horrible and hard to get through, but so long as I can come back to everyone I love, I can push through.”

Finally, tears slowly roll from Lav’s eyes and stream down her face. Though she attempts to swipe them away, they continue so slowly come down.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. You came back after all this time and I’ve managed to make it all about me.”

“It’s fine,” You give a light laugh. “Things can’t always be about me, can they?”

With this, you wrap your arms around Lav’s neck and back, and lean in close to her. In turn, she tightly embraces you too, squeezing so much that you almost feel like your breath is being taken away. Still, you don’t much mind it from her.

The both of you remain in your warm embrace for a good while, but soon, the loud growling of your stomach interrupts the tender hug. Hearing it makes Lav give a bit of a chortle and pull away.

“We should probably get you something to eat, huh?” She pokes. Her hand drops down to yours.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve hung around enough.” Your hand hardly shies away from Lav’s when you feel it graze your flesh. Her touch is warm and inviting. “I guess we’ll just wait for Violet and Cyrus to show up, then?”

“I’m sure they will soon.” Lav then frowns after saying this certainly. “What are you going to tell the others, if they aren’t allowed to know what you told me and Eight?”

This question leaves you a bit crestfallen. “I don’t know. I might just say I can’t remember a lot of it. It’s not what I want to tell them, but it’s the easiest thing I could say that wouldn’t get me in trouble.”

“And we really can’t anything either?”

“No. It’s better you let me handle the talking,” you assert. “Anything we’ve talked about here is going to have to stay between us three. And Cyrus, whenever I manage to talk to him about it.”

Lav’s eyes trail away. “I see.”

“You’re bothered by that?”

“Like I said, Eight’s words kinda got to me,” Lav elaborates. “I know he was talking about Cyrus, but I guess his point can apply to anyone. If we keep protecting the others from stuff like this, it’ll only hurt when they eventually find out, even with how much they already have had to put up with. I know it’s an exception now since apparently you’re barred from saying anything, but you know what I mean.”

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it either,” You remind her. “But for now, this is just how it’s going to have to be.”

Vexed by another shift in mood, you sigh and try to shake away the gloom. A smile crosses your lips, an attempt to be sweet with your companion and keep things light. “Hey, let’s go join the others already.”

Lav hardly disagrees with this notion and opts to walk with you to the door. You let her go into the hall first, then follow after as a precaution. Even now, you haven’t forgotten the rules the group has set in place to avoid another unnecessary enticing sight to the doctors. Well, really, you think it’s more so that Mom doesn’t bug anyone, because she most definitely would.

But it seems the hall is still empty when you enter it, so moving on to the rec room again isn’t much of a problem, and you and Lav both opt to join hands again midway to the next room. When the rec room doors part, you’re greeted with all the others standing or sitting around, having a conversation of their own. On the couch you were all gathered by earlier, Blue is sitting in the middle, Pickle to the right, and Two right beside him on the armrest. To the very left of the couch, opposite from him, is a rather tired Three. She’s sitting in her place with her hand in her lap and her elbow leaning on the armrest. Her hazel eyes are a little less gleaming than usual, you notice.

When you return with Lav, everyone’s focus shifts from one another to the both of you. Quietly, her hand drops. Yours had been so cozy nestled in hers that you miss the feeling when it ends.

Three looks over your way and gives a tired, but genuinely happy smile. Her eyes light up even if the rest of her remains in a state of dormant exhaustion.

“Ten,” she calls wearily. She can’t even muster up the energy to cry, despite looking dearly like she wants to. “You’re back!”

You return her happy smile with one of your own and approach the girl. She brings both her hands up, gesturing for you to hold them in your palms, which you take without question.

“I missed you,” she says in earnest. “I wish I was more awake for this.”

“It’s alright,” you assure her gently. “I’m relieved to see you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

Three nods and gives a subtle “mm-hm”. Her hands squeeze yours tightly. She tries to be as reassuring as you, it seems.

“I’m okay. Just really groggy from being drugged.”

You frown a bit. “You really worried me, you know. Nathaniel carried you in today.”

This makes Three frown as well, and her hazel eyes drop to the floor. You notice that Two on the opposite end of the couch is attempting to avoid looking his sister’s way, but occasionally side-glances her while talking casually to Pickle about something. Even Pickle gives you and Three an occasional look, flickering between you both while Two goes on.

“I guess I had to get checked out,” Three supposes with a weary shrug. Finally, her hands drop from yours and rest in her lap. “They do that sometimes. But I don’t really wanna talk about all that right now. Okay?”

Despite your concern for the girl, you give into her wishes. She has never really liked talking about the doctors or anything about this place. You remember that certainly. But you’re wondering how she’s handling herself now that Two is apparently trying to separate himself from her. His earlier remark in offense to your comment only leads you to suspect that’s what the issue is, but you aren’t sure. You want to talk to him, but now’s not the time.

It’s clear to you by the way he keeps looking at her that he wants to be by her side. He must be a bit torn up about whatever he’s going through, even if he wants to be apart from his sister for whatever reason. You wager that Three isn’t exactly thrilled by the change herself. You hope her weariness really is just from the drug and not an indication of some new negative attitude. She’s always been so sensitive…

Despite all this, you try to keep a happy demeanor for the girl.

“Well, are you hungry?” You ask. “We should all get together for a meal, like we did once before, right?”

“And knowing Violet, she’ll probably go right to the cafeteria when she shows up, so we don’t have to all wait around here,” Lav chimes in jokingly.

Six, overhearing this, gives a hearty laugh. “I’m genuinely concerned by how much that girl can eat. She’s a maniac sometimes.”

“No different than Two,” Pickle teases his red-shirted companion. “You’ve seen how he eats.”

Three’s eyes shift over to her brother a moment, then they immediately drop the moment their gazes meet. Still, she tries to be upbeat as well. Her smile does not wholly fade for that reason.

“I can’t even bring myself to eat as much as he can,” she tries giggling. Even now, her attempt sounds dreary, but you don’t much peck at her for it. She’s trying, and it actually makes you reel seeing how different she is now without Two around.

“Gosh, we’re all going to have to go one at a time huh?” Five speaks up. “Everyone line up, then!”

Eight, who’s been standing against the wall on his own, merely looks over at the group and frowns.

“What are you, some kind of nanny?”

“I can be if I need to,” Five assures him without budging. “Now go on, get in line.”

Eight’s cheeks grow just a tinge red, and he snaps back in embarrassment. “I’m not taking orders from you! You guys go first.”

“Oh my god, I’m not waiting around for you guys to go at it,” Blue groans. Despite the drudging words, she’s hardly being mean. She pushes off the couch. “I’ll leave first. Follow whenever you’re not stuck deciding on who goes next.”

Pickle gives a bit of a boyish chuckle. “There she goes.”

Blue does not wait for anyone to stop her and immediately takes off. Five, defeated in her attempts to rally the others up, gives a light sigh.

“So much for that.”

Leaning against her sweetheart, Six gives a cheeky grin. “Hey, I’ll listen to you at least.”

Five can’t much help letting out a giggle while leaning and giving Six’s cheek a sweet peck. “I know.”

After the dreariness of being confined alone with nothing but idle, technical chatter between colleagues to break the silence, hearing all this mundane banter is refreshing. Even when it might not be a big deal to anyone else, you’ve missed it so much that you almost want to cry.

It’s only the nature of your situation that can really sour this happiness, but you don’t want to let that interrupt you now. As far as you’re concerned, nothing else exists when you’re in these areas with the others. Unless another doctor impedes upon this bastion, you have nothing to fear here.

After a brief lingering discussion on who should follow Blue, you all reach a consensus. You watch Five and Six leave one after the other, followed by Eight, then Nine, then Pickle. You remain behind everyone, quietly hoping that you can have at least one brief moment with one of the twins to ask what’s going on out of a mixture of worry and curiosity. Neither of them have really moved from the couch since you walked into the room, and it’s only when they’re alone on opposite ends of it that Three bothers to stand. She looks on at her brother who doesn’t much bother to move with her, though gives her a bit of a nod.

“I guess I’ll go,” Three mumbles rather unhappily. Holding her arms, she trudges out the room, leaving you and Two alone.

“Looks like we both had the same idea,” he says with a quick scratch at the back of his head. “But we should make it quick, you know. I’d rather not keep people waiting even longer.”

“You wanted to talk to me?” You’re surprised.

“Just really quick,” The red-shirted young man elaborates. “I know you’re going to ask about me and Three because I know we weren’t really hiding our emotions all that well. I’m not dumb. I can see the way you were watching us. I can talk to some of the others about part of what’s been going on, though I haven’t really gotten around to it. As for the other stuff…you’re sort of the only one I can tell.”

You blink, unsure of how to take this. “Is it because of that?”

Two continues to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck, unsure of how to approach this topic. “Sort of. Or at least it’s affected a lot. Otherwise, me and Three started drifting apart a little after Pickle showed up. And I love her to death and everything, but she’s sometimes been a bit too clingy, you know?”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand. Did you guys have a fight?”

“Not necessarily. It was more like I started hanging out with Pickle a lot more. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guy to talk to and everything. Cyrus hasn’t been talking much these days, and Eight usually agitates easily. So, when Pickle showed up, it was actually pretty lucky for me because he was more accessible and got along with me easily. But my spending more time with him sort of made me realize how much Three was sticking by me. Even when I wanted to just do my own thing she’d get too close. I guess I got a little upset that she wasn’t leaving me alone.”

“But you guys have been able to hang around with other people before, right?” You question curiously. “Weren’t you both close with Penny?”

Two’s shoulders give a quick shrug. “Well, yeah. We had a lot of similar interests and we had the same energy. But Pickle’s a guy. I guess it’s different because I don’t really get to talk to a lot of guys. I really like you and the other girls, but we’re kind of on different pages sometimes, y’know?

Two then frowns.

“I’m sure Three had a lot to talk about with Penny, but I still had no problem chatting her up either. Even when my sister got close to Jade, I never really minded having time to myself. I’m not really sure why this is so different, or why Three can’t act how I did now that the tables are turned. I’m not stopping her from talking to Pickle or anything, either. But after a while, she sort of just gave up trying to be included.”

You look on with concern. “Is she mad at both of you?”

Two ponders this a moment, but ultimately denies it. “No, I think she’s more disappointed. She’ll still make jokes with Pickle and try to be nice because she doesn’t have the heart to be hateful. She’s not like that. But for now, we’re both just sort of trying to carry on as usual. The problem is that we both know neither of us is feeling good about the whole thing. But neither of us knows what to say.”

You sigh. “It almost sounds like what Cyrus and Violet went through.”

“But it’s even worse now because it’s impacted our relationship. The other relationship, I mean.”

“Oh…” You bite your lip.

“I know you don’t like what we do, but I told you why I do it,” Two remains firm upon seeing your reaction. “I care about Three. And even though I’m a little bothered by her being kind of clingy lately, I still love her and want to be there for her. I’m all she really has anymore. It’s just been really weird and hard to be helpful with everything that’s gone on. It’s not just awkward because of the deal with Pickle, but Three’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, and that’s started to bleed out a lot more now that we’re not together all the time. I’ve always felt awkward about it when she gets that way. You remember when she acted kinda strange during that time were all in the theater together—I felt really uncomfortable. I don’t really prefer to think about that stuff.”

You lower a brow. “Commitment?”

“Right. I don’t have time to think about it in a place like this. I know I laugh a lot but I’m not that stupid. I know this place is full of death and that anything we could have done out there just doesn’t apply here. I-I don’t like thinking about it.”

Two shakes his head then, and tries to switch gears. “Look, I’ll leave it at that before I go on some tangent or something. I just wanted you to know at least that much for now so you stop giving us that look. But I don’t wanna saddle all this on you and make it some big deal right when you’ve just come back. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you try to be reassuring, even give a little smile. “I’d be more worried if you held it in. And, really, after all the time I’ve had to myself dealing with awful shit, hearing about others’ problems for a change is pretty refreshing.”

You pause, then. You’re speaking out loud something that could be taken so phenomenally bad, aren’t you?

Your hand comes up close to your mouth in a bout of embarrassment. “Oh geez, that’s not weird, is it?”

Two gives a slight non-offensive chuckle. “Maybe a little. But I guess I understand. I have no idea what you’ve been through while away, but I’d imagine it had some effect on you. You know, I’m usually pretty dense with that stuff, so sorry if I don’t pick up any signals right away. I hope you’ll tell us about what happened, though. Will you?”

“Um…” The question leaves you muttering hesitantly.

Two shrugs when you trail off. “If you gotta think too hard about it, then don’t worry about it. Trust me, I know what it’s like to not wanna address certain things. Everyone here knows. It’s just that a few of us are better at being forward about the awful than others.”

This comment concerns you. Two’s always been pretty upbeat. He’s managed to be serious when he’s had to be, but it’s clear by how he’s talking with you that he doesn’t much like to think hard about certain things if he doesn’t have to. He’s not precisely as hesitant and sheepish as his sister, but you’re sure he’s akin to Blue with his want to avoid the negative.

“Anyway, I’m next in line,” Two’s voice interrupts your train of thought. “I’m gonna go before they start asking questions. See you in a sec.”

Left alone after this temporary sendoff, you begin to wonder whether you’re somehow cursed. Things tend to go downhill when you’re not around. Cyrus, Lav, and even the Twins are all having problems. Who next?

No, that’s too presumptuous. It’s too silly an idea, and maybe a little self-centered. You have hardly anything to do with most of this. If anything, Cyrus is the one who unites most everyone to some degree. It’s as if without him, everything’s gotten a bit frazzled. Was it that way before? Or is it only that way now because of how much he’s involved himself in this group compared to the last?

As far as Pickle goes, he’s hardly a problem, but his presence continues to cause problems altogether, just as your absence apparently has. How weird he must feel being in the middle of something that has nothing to do with him, nor that is his fault at all. You’d imagine Two’s talked to Pickle about it a little.

In the end, though, this issue isn’t one you can really help the twins solve. Three doesn’t know what you’ve found out about her relationship with her brother, but she might still be able to talk to you about her feelings otherwise. The latter applies also to Two, though both twins will probably have to settle things alone. You can’t really help one being dependent upon the other in any way other than by giving some kind of advice or guidance against it. And, no doubt, the other girls have already coddled Three over her downed mood. Five especially has tended to reach out to the girl, and speak to and treat her gently, like a child.

Two might only have been able to talk about it with Pickle, but you wouldn’t count Eight out as far as advice-giving goes. He’s a bit of a forward guy, but he means well.

It’s something not worth fussing over now, though. You’ll just have to hope things will run their course. For the moment, now that a little while has passed, you finally decide to leave the rec room and head out to the cafeteria.

Arriving there yields a sight you’ve missed—every Number, save for the two still yet to arrive, is surrounding one of the metal tables. The row of bodies facing you encompasses Blue, both peachy Numbers, and Three. Opposite of them from where you’re looking sits Lav and Eight. There’s a bit of distance between them both.

There’s so many people that a few bodies have spilt over on the next table—Two and Pickle are facing one another, you come to find. Though they’re apart from the others, they’re not at all out of reach, nor are they stuck in their own little world. Even from a distance, they’re able to converse with everyone else. You figure Lav was waiting to make room for you to sit beside her, and Eight just wanted his space.

Each person has their own serving of food and water, though nobody’s appeared to touch any of it yet. When you walk in, all eyes wander to you. Despite all the dreariness of some of the earlier conversations, everyone looks alight now, as if none of that ever mattered to begin with. It’s refreshing.

You give a quick stop by Charlie, who graces you with a rather brimming tray comprised of a bottle of water, and dishes you don’t know you’ll really finish—large servings of vegetable medleys, finely seasoned meats, and buttery, aromatic breads that make your mouth water. It’s all quite alluring, and absolutely worth a hundred more thank-yous to the chef, which you give at least a few of.

Lav expectedly waves you over once you’re on the way to the table, and you don’t hesitate to nestle beside her. Naturally, Eight gives a lowered brow expressing his reservations at the young woman shifting closer to him to make room for you, but he says nothing and allows it. You find this comedically uncharacteristic of someone who used to be so bitter and speak out so vehemently against things he disagreed with. Naturally, some of his bitter old habits die hard, but he’s shown a remarkable improvement. Back then, he’d never even have wanted to speak with anyone unless it was to be critical. Now it seems he’s managed to be a little more open with everyone.

By now, the others have already started to peck at their food. You do notice Three occasionally leaning her head forward and glancing at her brother on the next table over, but she doesn’t seem much perturbed by his sharing a laugh with Pickle over some joke you didn’t hear before sitting down. If anything, she’s mostly a bit downtrodden. Though, you could probably attribute this to her exhausted state. Even now her hazel eyes are a tinge droopy.

Despite her weary state, when Three’s name is called by Five, her head turns toward the young woman. Immediately, the ginger-headed girl’s smile picks up, and she attempts to stay chipper.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to eat all that?” Lav questions with a raise of her brow once she sees how much food Charlie’s given you. Evidently even he must be worried by your thinned-out appearance.

Having brought a bite of red meat to your lips, you attempt to finish chewing it before answering.

“I don’t have to eat all of it, do I?”

“You wouldn’t wanna make yourself sick.”

Blue chimes in from across you, lightly pecking at a few of the veggies on her plate. She gives a rather teasing tone “I dunno, won’t Charlie be mad or something if you don’t eat everything?”

“You think you’ve got the right to talk when you keep pushing aside what you don’t like?” Two teases with a grin, eyeing her gestures. Blue blushes.

“Okay, okay! Fine!” She whines out before stuffing a forkful of vegetables into her mouth. Upon swallowing it, she adds, “That better, you jerk?”

This display makes you give a laugh, which Five takes note of and smiles in response to.

“I’m glad you’re still able to smile,” she says sweetly. Her comment makes you blush a bit, but you remain grateful for it nonetheless.

A bite of your food leaves you in a state of bliss. It’s warm and savory, enveloping you in a combination of positive sensations that are more than welcome right now. The food itself is so ordinary today, but while enjoying it among friends, you’d be hard-pressed to distinguish this from a rich meal.

Once you’ve accustomed yourself to the comfort of being around your friends like this again, you look on at most of them and innocently ask,

“What were you guys even up to while I was gone?”

“Other than getting used to Pickle, you mean?” Six laughs. “Not much.”

“There’s no need to humble yourself, you know,” Eight casually remarks after biting at a bunch of chopped carrots. “These two have made remarkable progress in their performance.”

Your eyes widen a bit. “Oh that’s right! You guys were fixing to have music lessons, huh?”

Six grins. “Yup! I can sort of understand the flute now. At least it doesn’t sound wholly unmelodic when I play. Peaches and I can sound a little more harmonic. I’d say that’s worth a pat on the back, anyway.”

Five, on the other hand, tries to remain humble. “I think we could still afford to practice, but I am happy with how much we’ve been progressing. It’s not something we fumble over as much, but we still can’t play complicated pieces yet.”

“I’m impressed by your taking to the art,” Eight admits in turn. “I wager you had decent rhythm before this place. Six, on the other hand, seems to have struggled much more, but she has been doing much better.”

After taking another dig at your food, you look over at Eight and give a kind smile. “You been letting others hear you play too?”

“Somewhat,” is his response. “The others have been joining me in the music room much more, anyway. I feel strange sharing my space, but I admit that letting others appreciate my craft, even when they don’t wholly understand it, leaves me with a good feeling.

“You never used to think so,” Nine teases. “You’re really growing up.”

“If you keep teasing me about it, I will regress purely to spite you.”

“Whatever you say, sourpuss,” Pickle adds to the teasing, giving a boyish laugh which the others in turn follow with their own laughter. Hearing his voice causes you to shift focus to him.

“You talked really quickly about meeting everyone earlier, but how was it getting used to everyone?”

Pickle raises a brow. “Me? Well, like I said, I was pretty shy. I tend to be, I guess. I didn’t really even know how to approach you, but I figured I’d break the ice with the hair thing.”

“He’s made a pretty good effort to be nice to everyone,” Blue chimes in with a shrug. “He’s cool with us.”

“I dunno, I think he’s a spaz,” Two teases his companion with a sly chuckle. “You should see him when he actually gets excited about something. He won’t shut up if you get him going.”

You flicker your eyes over to Three while continuing to peck at your plate and notice that she’s staying completely silent while dining. Her gaze remains affixed to her food.

“I can’t help it,” Pickle shrugs. “Anyway, I was kind of intimidated meeting Eight, if you wanna know. I felt more comfortable with the others pretty quickly, but I thought he was gonna be mean.”

“Shall I be flattered or offended that I strike fear in people?” Eight questions with a raise of his brow. He takes no legitimate offense to Pickle’s comment, though, and continues to poshly slip a light forkful of veggies past his lips.

“Well, you seem okay now,” Pickle answers him, though pouts just after. “You ever gonna let me trim your hair?”

Eight remains firm. “No. I will let it grow as much as I can if you keep asking.”

“Aw, c’mon!”

Blue gives a chortle and only comments, “Gee, what a guy.”

Pickle pauses and gives her an alert look as if awaiting a further response, but is immediately shaken from his gaze of her as Nine speaks up next.

“Well, I’d say he’s gotten adjusted to us all pretty quickly, which makes things easy,” she says. “Not like I’d have an issue being stubborn with anyone who is equally stubborn. We’ve had to deal with a lot as a group.”

“Well, I sort of leave that kind of thing to you guys,” Five gives a brief, sheepish chuckle. “I like people, I just hate getting mad at them.”

“Peaches sees a lot of good in others, but I’m not above calling anyone out for being a dick,” Six replies in contrast after gulping down a swig of water. “Nine knows that well.”

Lav grins. “Sure do.”

“I guess it’s nice that everyone knows how to be open about that stuff,” Three finally mumbles a reply. “I’m kind of shy about new things too.”

Pickle worriedly looks her way, whereas her brother remains shyly affixed to anyone but her. Both boys are undeniably very aware of the issue each twin is having, but try not to make it a big deal. Despite the awkwardness, Pickle tries to remain upbeat.

“Yeah!” He chirps. “I think even Violet was like that too. At least she said so.”

Despite the downtrodden expression, Three tries to cooperate with Pickle. “Yeah, she was just a little more harsh than us.”

“Violet’s struggled a lot with her stubborn nature,” Eight adds. “I think she’s doing well all things considered.”

“And what about you, Two?” You ask upon noticing his leaning into his hand. He’s using his previously broken arm as support now while he leans against the table upon his elbow. The young man glances over at you in the midst of chewing, but doesn’t finish before letting out a muffled “hm?”

“Your arm, I mean.”

Two finally swallows his food and smiles. “Yeah, I got the cast off a while ago. I forgot how good it feels to actually hold things with both hands.”

He pushes off his arm and moves his balled-up fist around in a circular motion, as if testing out its flexibility. “It was supper annoying having to do everything with one hand, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t go falling off of any more beds,” Pickle teases. “You’re really accident prone.”

“Yeah, the other day he accidentally bumped his toe on the couch,” Blue adds with a bellowing laugh.

“And the day before that, he got hit in the head with a basketball,” Six chimes in, giving another toothy grin. “What a dork.”

“Hey, not everyone’s great at basketball,” says Lav with a smile. “But that was really funny.”

Five blushes a bit. “I said I was sorry.”

Two merely gives a pout.

“Hey, I can’t help what happens to me, alright? I guess I’m just the universe’s punching bag or something.”

This makes Three give a subtle laugh, which her brother notices. He moves forward a bit and looks over at her with his hazel eyes, attempting to give her a slight smile. Rather than avoid him, she blushes a bit and tries to muster a tiny smile too.

You can tell neither of them really wants to be upset as they are, but you aren’t sure whether they’re just saving face or not. The others can’t at all be unaware of what’s happening between them, but they appear not to really react to any of these subtler expressions. Maybe they’re just trying to be polite.

Suddenly, all chatter stops when the muffled, grinding sounds of the gate are heard. It’s as if everyone’s hearts suddenly skipped a beat in unison, as everyone at both tables freezes and affixes their eyes in the direction of the noise.

Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, nobody knows who it’ll be. You, however, already have a pretty good idea, knowing now that meetings like this might very well be arranged a certain way on purpose. You continue to slip food past your mouth, awaiting what you know is coming. As expected, it’s the cafeteria doors that open, and only you don’t bother to turn right away.

“Violet!” Blue chirps happily. “Hey, look who’s back!”

Finally, you drop your fork and turn your body a little, toward the door behind you. Standing there is a rather wide-eyed Violet, whose dark eyes immediately meet with yours. Rather than look on with shock, she can’t help but smile.

“Ten!” She lets out a happy sigh. Rather quickly, she makes her way to the table and stands near you. Without even hesitating, she leans down and wraps both her arms around your shoulders.

“God, I’m relieved you’re really here!”

You return the girl’s embrace as best you can by learning into her and putting a hand over one of her arms hanging above your chest.

“I missed you,” Violet goes on. “I wasn’t sure what the hell to think when I saw you in the hall. But I wanted to tell everyone the moment I got here.”

“I guess it’s good that it came as a surprise in the end,” You muster a weary huff of laughter. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Vi.”

Violet soon lets you go and gives a bit of a sheepish look.

“You really had us worried.”

“I’m sorry.” You frown. “I know it must have been hard to adjust to me missing.”

“You went and disappeared after all trouble I went through to be chummy because of you,” Violet places her hands on her hips and replaces her eager demeanor with a playfully stubborn one. “You owe me for that.”

Again, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re right. I should have been more considerate.”

Violet breaks her character and gives a chuckle. “Geez, you’re really something.”

“You’re looking well,” you say kindly. “How have things been?”

It’s nice that Violet’s not hovering too hard over you. A casual greeting is still equally as odd, but you welcome it after all the coddling everyone’s been doing today. Even Eight’s or the Twins’ methods of greeting you again weren’t ones you minded.

“A little better,” Violet admits, but quickly gives a nervous bite of her lip. “Not like I mean that because you left, but…”

“I know,” you assure her with a gentle smile. “I’m glad. You seem different than I remember.”

Lav smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

Violet’s cheeks remain a bit red, and she shifts her eyes up awkwardly. “Well, I dunno, I’ve just been doing my own thing and all. It’s not a big deal. A-anyway, I wasn’t expecting you all to be here.”

“You were only after food, got it,” Blue teases from afar. “Go get some already, gosh.”

Violet sticks her tongue out at the girl before going off to do just that. You hear her give a brief hello to Charlie, and a thank-you when he hands her a meal. Judging by how quickly he gave it to her, you wager he’s just been observing the lot of you from behind the tinted pane. Not like you much mind it. You’re glad he can be present in his own way, though you silently wish he could join the rest of you.

When Violet returns, she takes her place beside Eight, who willingly allows her to sit beside him, even if it means scooting a bit closer to Lav. Neither of them really give a greeting, but they lock eyes, and Eight gives his friend a subtle nod.

“What was up with the other day, anyway?” You ask the violet girl once she’s taken her place. “With Micah, and everything?”

“Oh, that,” Violet grumbles unhappily. “He’s been kind of mad at me lately because I’ve been fussy. But I sort of stopped giving a shit about what he had to say.”

“You’re fighting back more?”

“A little. I’m not stupid, though,” Violet answers straightforwardly. “I know when I have to be quiet. I just give him a hard time when I can afford to because he hates it. But at the same time, I’m convinced he also likes it a little. He does have a weird fascination with being all big and powerful or whatever, but he likes a challenge too. Blah blah, don’t care.”

If only you could continue the same strategy with Yosuke. Granted, you won’t ever stop trying to fight him. You only have to give up in strategic moments. However, it almost feels like you’re regressing when Violet has changed while you’ve gone back to the habits you had in the beginning. Of course, that’s not to say you love your doctor or want him. You know there’s a dependency that has to be given as far as letting the man take care of you, and it’s been agreed that you’ll try to keep him grounded by giving in now and then. But even so, you can’t help but feel a bit reserved about how much the others have seemed to change in that regard. You sort of feel like you’re taking a step back even if it’s not really the case. You certainly don’t want to believe it is.

Nonetheless, you’re quite happy that Violet’s taken after such an approach. You suppose it’s foolish to think she doesn’t know what she’s doing when she’s been here far longer, You never should have doubted that.

“Yeah, he’s a little rough,” Blue adds with a frown. “But he doesn’t mind me.”

“Goody for you.” Violet remains bothered by this statement, but does not linger on it. She knows well that Blue can be a little forward about her feelings, and that this applies even to her tendency to chatter about herself or insert herself into things that aren’t explicitly about her. She’s just a bit too friendly about it at times.

Just then, you notice Three getting a bit uncomfortable by the way she shifts around in her seat and rolls her eyes around as if looking for something to focus on. When she lands on you and catches you staring, she tries to remain lighthearted.

“It’s okay,” she says aloud, catching the others’ attention too. “I figured we were going to have to discuss the doctors when I saw you. I don’t mind this time.”

“You sure?” Five asks with a gentle tone. “You seemed not to want to bring it up earlier.”

Three nods. “I just don’t like talking about my doctor or Two’s. This is fine, really.”

Even Violet hesitates a moment, but when Three again assures everyone she’s okay, the conversation goes on.

“Micah’s been hurting you more, though. Hasn’t he?” You suppose, recalling the scars you saw poking out of Violet’s shirt the other day. Violet pauses her eating and frowns.

“Yeah. But I don’t really care. Pain sucks but I can handle it,” she asserts. You’re taken aback by this.

“I’ve been telling myself the same thing, actually. It’s what’s helped me stay a little grounded, among all the other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Six inquires curiously. “Like what?”

“Well…I thought of you guys a lot where I was. I know that much.”

Two leans in. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yeah, and where the hell were you all this time?” Blue adds insistently. You frown and glance down at the table.

“I don’t remember.” You decide to stick with the lie you brought up with Lav. Though Eight didn’t much know you’d say this precisely, he catches on rather quickly what you’re trying to do and merely stays quiet. Both he and Lav look at you knowingly, but pretend to stay as shocked as the others when these words are uttered.

“I know that I was confined somewhere, but there’s a lot about it I can’t much remember,” you go on. “All I remember was a lot of pain and suffering, and that I could only think of all of you and my want to see you again.”

“Did they take your memory away?” Pickle questions with genuine concern. “That’s really scary…”

“I guess so,” is your reply. Despite how bad of an actress you are, you’re apparently managing to sell this quite well. When your eyes trail back up, everyone is looking at you as if you’ve just been shot or something. They’re all worried as hell. And you can only sit there feeling guilty that you can’t burst out with a full-fledge explanation of your whereabouts. The grip on your fork only tightens when you let such a horrid feeling wash over you.

“I feel okay, really,” you try to be reassuring. “At least now, I’m doing a lot better. I just…struggle a little. I won’t say all the pain didn’t affect me, but I won’t say I’m not trying to overcome it. Anyway, it’s better that I don’t much remember any of that. The point is that I’m here now. I just need to shape myself back up. Though, I pushed through everything despite how broken I felt. I know that much.”

“You don’t even remember anything about where you were or who was with you?” Six questions worriedly. You give a slight shake of your head.

“Why the hell were you taken away to begin with?” Eight plays this up with you. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Because of my doctor,” you decide to be blunt. “It was his punishment. I do remember that being said.”

You leave off the issue of Jay, since nobody here other than Eight and Lav know much about her. It still bugs you how little you can really talk about her when her death affected you so much.

“Yosuke has been attached to me a long time,” you add, shaking away the thought of Jay. “He’s been obsessive as hell and I can’t really take it. But now that I’m back, it’s even worse than I remember. He’s been talking so much about keeping me with him. I hate how he talks to and treats me, but I’ll have to bear it.”

“I’m really sorry,” Three finally speaks up, her voice almost croaking. “I had no idea…that’s awful!”

Upon seeing her nearly tearful face, you feel a lump in your throat. It’s not exactly pleasant to have to hurt the others by telling them where you’ve been, but even this vague explanation has left Three’s imagination running in all horrible directions, enough for her to hurt. Though the feeling of guilt only worsens, you try to keep upbeat for her sake.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now. I just need to get back into all this again and maybe everything will be fine.”

“Who’s to say they won’t take her again, though?” Violet bitterly remarks. “I don’t mean to cause a panic or anything, just…That’s really fucked.”

“If we continue on as we were, we should all be fine,” Eight responds the moment he sees everyone’s rather off-put faces. “There’s no need to get frazzled about it. This happened because of a doctor, not her or us. And before you ask, ‘what about my doctor?’, do think a bit. The other doctors aren’t as obsessive as Yosuke is. Mom, perhaps, but even she wouldn’t jeopardize Cyrus. She’s more experienced in her wild ways than Yosuke is. Most of us know that for certain from our time here.”

Violet’s brows scrunch up a bit as if she’s frustrated at herself, but Eight again tries to be reassuring.

“Violet’s sentiment is valid, of course,” he says. “I will not lie by saying I’m not worried for Ten nor anyone here. I have my concerns, despite how little I like to say it. But we shouldn’t let fear rule us. We act irrationally when afraid, and it only takes one of us panicking excessively for all of us to follow. Do stay calm, and remember that we’re all on the same page.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lav chimes in without a hitch. “We just have to stay level-headed. We’ve all been through a lot as it is. We’ve overcome a lot and will continue to overcome a lot. Let’s focus on that instead.”

You’d like to tell everyone just how much they should be on their toes, but you’d rather not incite a panic either. Your closer companions are trying their best to watch over the others in Cyrus’ absence. You appreciate it greatly. And, of course, you’d be remiss to bluntly tell everyone such pessimistic things that, really, they probably already know or expect in this place. Most everyone here has accustomed themselves to the concept of mortality, for one reason or another. You hadn’t even really expected Two to mention it earlier, but he’s shown you even with just a quick remark how much he’s thought about it.

It’d be salt in the wound to be open up about the awful much further.

“I’m happy,” you choose to speak up, catching everyone’s attention. “I’m happy to be here after all that time. I just want to focus on that. When we’re here together, this is all that matters, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t hurt to be realistic, but yes.” Eight nods. The others give mumbles agreement in turn—all but Three.

“But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to focus on better things, is there?” She asks innocently—No, more desperately if anything. Eight’s green eyes trail over her way. He remains silent, but eventually gives a slow inhale and huff of breath.

“No, there isn’t.” For once, he swallows his pride. “If that’s what works for you. All things considered, I’m impressed that you’ve managed to stick things out after learning the kinds of things you’ve endured in your time here. You’re stronger than you realize. Everyone here is, in their own way.”

Pickle raises a brow. “Even me?”

Eight scoffs. “You are a rather fragile young man, but you at least know how to cut hair. I suppose that’s commendable. But I’m still not letting you touch mine.”

Three gives a bit of a giggle at the casual half-insult, but doesn’t add to it or comment on it much. Instead, she looks at Eight and smiles. “Thank you. You’re really sweet then you try to be.”

Eight blushes a bit, but says nothing and continues eating.

Now that the conversation has shifted, you breathe a sigh of relief. The others, somewhat like you hoped, have accepted your answer. You got the bulk of it out with Eight and Lav, at least, which is something you’re grateful for given how much you struggled with finding out how to talk to the others. In the end, it was far less strenuous as you expected it to be. That’s so relieving you could almost cry again.

“What were you guys talking about, anyway?” Violet asks once the mood has shifted. The moment her mouth stops expelling words, she starts to hungrily chomp on a bunch of the meat.

“This and that,” Lav answers her with a wave of her fork. “We talked a little about Pickle, Two’s arm, and all that stuff.

“Speaking of Pickle, I guess his number is Eleven,” you sheepishly remark. “Since I’m still here.”

“Oh yeah, that’s true.” Blue hums thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling as she ponders this. The mention of the number only makes Three’s smile fade, but she doesn’t bother to comment. You suppose she’s reeling over being reminded of Jade. It’s bad enough that she still mourns the loss of someone she was so close to, but the fact that her replacement is a Number who’s taken the attention of her brother, yet another person she’s close to, must sting even more.

“Pickle is fine with me,” the green-shirted young man says as-a-matter-of-factly. By now, he and Two are both almost done with their plates. Boys truly have such wild appetites, you think. You haven’t even gotten halfway with your own dish. The only one of the boys who hasn’t vehemently gobbled up his food is Eight, though he’s more polite about his eating habits, it seems. Violet, in contrast, is ungracefully inhaling hers. You almost want to laugh about it.

“I’m surprised they’re bringing more Numbers in, though,” Six comments after prodding at a bit of meat she cut. “I’m not sure what happened behind the scenes, but It’s gonna be weird if more show up. It’s been a while since we’ve had new people come in.”

Your mind wanders back to the person The Overseer and Lucius brought in. You wonder if he’ll eventually emerge too, if it isn’t Pickle. Looking at him again, you remain convinced that they’re separate individuals. There’s no way they aren’t with all the timing not adding up.

Just then, you remember the sight of all the other doors you saw while being brought back toward your room the day you returned. Your lips part a bit, but you suddenly stop yourself before you can say a thing.

For just a moment, you ask whether it’s something you can speak of, but eventually conclude that it changes nothing. The Overseer had said if you have to question whether saying something is okay, then it probably isn’t. However, he’d also said that he only wants you to stay quiet about his work, the facility’s procedures, and about him and Lucius. Supposing it’s fine, you speak up.

“I remember when I was coming back, I saw the end of the hall finally,” you say. Everyone looks on at you with surprise.

“It goes up to twenty. Maybe once, there were that many people.”

“That’s weird,” Lav remarks with a focused look on her face. “I guess they had to cut the numbers thin after a while. Wonder why.”

A part of you ponders on whether Lav would have known about this in any capacity. You recall her mentioning the end of the hall only one before, and knowing how it curved a certain way when she wouldn’t have been able to if she’d never seen it. She doesn’t give off any hint of knowing about the number count, though.

“Ugh, that means there were even more doctors once,” Five expresses her disgust with a shiver. “Unless the doctors here had two Numbers more often than they did with our last group. Even with this one, they don’t seem to.”

“They could also just have a second person to take care of in another area of this place,” Blue shrugs. “Like, I remember we did see other doctors than these before, and don’t anymore. Maybe they all disappeared or something. Spooky.”

“Or they’re just split up and don’t see us anymore,” Two guesses. “Could also be it.”

“In any case, knowing this changes nothing,” Eight butts in, dropping his fork down. He does not finish what’s on his plate and instead leans his elbows on the table and intertwines his fingers within one another to form a little nest for his chin, which he places atop the backs of his hands. “What we do know is that, should they bother to bring more people in, we can expect that many at best. But I don’t see us getting more and more so suddenly. Perhaps one or two if anything, but even I was surprised by Pickle showing up. I’m even more perplexed that he and Ten are both here.”

“It is what it is, I guess,” says Two with a shrug. His plate is done by now, as is Pickle’s. After gulping down a bit of water, he sighs. “Man, I needed that.”

“Did you even taste the food?” Five questions with a lowering of her brow. “You guys eat way too fast.”

“Just because you eat fast doesn’t mean you can’t savor it in your own way,” Violet defends with a girlish pout. “Take it from me—I eat like he does and even I still know this stuff’s good.”

“Isn’t it seen as unladylike to eat with such fervor?” Eight can’t help but jest with a smirk. Violet says nothing and frowns unamusedly at him. She casually sticks up her middle finger while stuffing another forkful of food in her mouth. This only makes her companion give a reserved chuckle.

Blue scoffs. “God, you two are weird.”

You watch the display with amusement, leaning on your elbow like Two earlier while continuing to quietly eat what you can. At this point, you’ve manage to peck at most of the plates on your tray, but are starting to get fairly full. You won’t bother to push it too much further, but politely nibble at more vegetables for Charlie’s sake.

“Speaking of food,” you’re reminded. “When did Charlie learn to write?”

“Oh, you know about that?” Two replies with surprise.

“I saw him earlier before going to meet Pickle.”

Blue shrugs and drops her fork like Eight, finally having managed to finish a good portion of her plate. “He’s been at it since whenever we all started talking to him or whatever. I guess he really wanted to try.”

“He writes like a little kid,” Five chuckles. Her knowing that makes you wonder why she does. Your mood dampens when you remember her mentioning a child in her video feed, though. Might she have had a sibling, or a kid of her own? A cousin or friend’s kid that she knew?

Five continues, her voice keeping your thoughts focused on the conversation again. “But I guess he’s doing pretty good for himself. I’m sure being cooped up in there allows him a lot of time to do that sort of thing.”

“He’s pretty smart, I think,” Violet adds her own commentary, complimenting the man while blissfully aware of the fact that he may well be listening in. “The guy knows how to cook as it is. That’s not exactly the easiest of skills. So having learned to write a little when he didn’t know how before shows me that he’s actually pretty intelligent and skilled.”

“Gee, that’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said about anyone,” Lav teases her. Violet merely pouts.

“Are you all gonna keep making fun of me?”

Eight gives a subtle smirk. “You know how it feels now, huh?”

You smile to yourself hearing all this conversation going on around you. It seems things have mostly smoothed out, aside from the few remaining issues. You suppose not everything will always be so lively between everyone when there’s still remnants of stubborn personalities and conflicting ideals, but this is quite remarkable in your eyes.

You never really anticipated Violet and Eight would get along well, nor that Blue would be so open with the girl she once fought with. Violet’s learned to cooperate with everyone as Eight has learned to. She’s not hesitating to speak up with everyone, she’s not hiding herself away, and she’s not letting her feelings be unknown or quiet. Maybe she’s a little more forward than you like, but the girl’s handling herself much better. You’re glad.

“By the way, I forgot to show you twins and Violet this,” Five speaks up. She lifts her tray to reveal the folded paper you gave her earlier. She unfolds it now and shows the others who haven’t yet seen it. The debacle makes both twins lean forward to see it, and Violet pause her eating. The moment everyone lays their eyes on it, Two gives a bellowing laugh.

“Wow, that looks terrible. I love it!”

You blush. “Oh.”

“Wait, who drew that?” Violet asks. You sheepishly raise your hand, too ashamed to be verbal about it. Two does not let up on his laughter, but does reassure you with a,

“It’s silly and I like it. You drew me with a huge head.”

“She really should have drawn you with a big mouth instead,” Pickle teases his friend.

Violet blinks in surprise. “You drew me with my hair short?”

“Y-yeah,” you continue with your hesitant demeanor. “I figured I’d give drawing everyone a shot after I saw you.”

Violet’s lips curve in a bit of a smile. “I’m surprised you remembered my hair from just seeing me once.”

“Well, I was surprised by it when I saw you. But I think it looks good on you.”

This makes Violet’s cheeks redden like yours. “Ah, thanks? Pickle cut it for me after I did. Or, uh, tried to anyway.”

You giggle. “He mentioned.”

“Well, I think your art is cute,” Three attempts to lift your spirits. She beams a bit, even through her exhausted disposition. “I’m sure it’ll look good when we put it up in the rec room. And don’t mind Two, he’s just a big dummy.”

“This is one hundred percent the truth,” her brother admits with a shrug. Though you can still tell there’s tension between them, you’re glad they’re at least attempting to acknowledge one another. You’d be distraught if they refused to, but it seems even a rift in their relationship can’t fully shake them from one another. You know neither of them wants to have that rift to begin with.

Again, you’re all suddenly interrupted by the sound of the gate distantly grinding open, then shutting. With nobody left to wait on, everyone here knows precisely who’s arrived, and everyone consequently looks between one another with worried expressions aside from Eight, who keeps his gaze affixed to the table in quiet focus.

“He won’t join us,” he speaks up with confidence. “He tends to skip meals when he’s like this.”

You frown then. “What’s been going on with him??

You well know the answer from your earlier chat with Eight and Lav, but hearing the others’ perspectives would be helpful, you think. Violet’s the one who bothers to chime in next. She pokes and prods at her food, as if her appetite is suddenly out of sorts.

“He’s been dodging most of us, and only really interacting when he has to,” she says. “I’m really worried about him. At first, he still tried to be present. But the more he came to realize that you were really gone, it started getting worse.”

“He didn’t believe that you were at first,” Five adds next. “None of us did. None of us wanted to. And, in the back of our minds, we hoped that you’d come back like you have before.”

Your eyebrows tilt upward and scrunch together as you hear these words. “But I did.”

“You just took too long,” Lav mumbles unhappily, her amber eyes now affixed to the table as Eight’s are. “It’s not your fault at all or anything. It was all just circumstance. At some point, even though we didn’t want to give up hope, we thought maybe it was pointless to keep holding on. Cyrus didn’t want to accept it. Hell, like Five said, nobody really did. But sometimes, assuming the worst is a kind of approach you take if you wanna avoid getting hurt by the truth.”

“He’s afraid of losing others more than he is of dying, I think,” Six speaks up next, her tone morose. “He’s afraid of dying too, but he hates having to deal with the losses. He’s been like that ever since I can remember.”

Two, though hesitant to really remark upon all this, tries his best to add to the conversation. He nervously scratches at his neck and avoids looking at anyone in particular.

“He’s gotten able to handle it better with time, I think,” he tries to stick up for his friend. “I remember he used to panic and freak out and then just go completely numb for a while. He eventually got sick of feeling that way and started to do something about it. He can sometimes go back to those same tendencies, but he always tries to come back up on his own.”

Violet tightens her grip on her fork and scowls. “Well, that doesn’t mean that he’s completely okay. Besides, this is different.”

“What?” Two raises a brow. Even the others look at her with confusion, aside from Blue, Five, and Six who already know what she’s implying. Blue already suspected an attachment between you and Cyrus. As for the peachy girlfriends, either they guessed it, or Lav talked about it privately with them.

“It’s just different,” Violet repeats herself. “He hasn’t been in pain like this since Jade.”

Two remains ever-dense. “Well, she was the last person to leave, right? It’s been a while since then, so I’d imagine it really hurt him to have to face this again.”

Exasperated by Two’s inability to grasp her meaning, Violet doesn’t bother to explain herself further. She merely continues to quietly dine. You don’t think that her decision to remark upon all this is based out of bitterness, though. When her dark eyes catch your glance toward her, she does not shy away or express a bitter sentiment on her profile. In fact, she looks a bit worried, but tries to give a very subtle smile to let you know she’s alright. You return the same.

“Jade was different,” Three speaks up this time after a long, harrowing silence. Her words favor Violet’s. “For some of us, she was. I know how he felt then, and I know how he feels now because Ten was really good to me the way Jade was. Maybe she wasn’t always present like Jade was, but it still hurt when she stopped showing up.”

Two frowns and looks down. “…Right.”

Across from him, Pickle looks utterly dejected. He hasn’t bothered to speak up once since the topic of Cyrus and Jade and all other manner of things that he isn’t as intimately familiar with have come up. You suppose he wants to resonate with everyone over something like this, but doesn’t know quite what to say. All he does now is sit there and listen, but avoid looking at anyone in particular.

“A few of us have been able to talk to him now and then,” Blue breaks the awkward quiet. “Mostly in the beginning, but later on he started only spottily talking to anyone he felt more comfortable with, and even then only barely. He’s mostly just been avoiding everyone and dealing with this funk of his on his own. He does that.”

“I’ve caught him a few times,” Eight admits, dropping his hands back down to the table. He hardly elaborates what he means, though. “Violet and Nine as well, it seems.”

“He did try to make me feel welcome, like I said,” Pickle finally chimes in, almost eagerly, as if hoping to finally have a part in the conversation. “I haven’t seen him much after his initial hangouts. He was really nice, but I haven’t totally gotten to know him yet because he’s been sulking. With reason, I mean. I’ve heard he’s gone through a lot.”

“We all have,” Six agrees with a nod. “And we’ve all tried to be supportive of one another. Lately, we’ve just been giving Cyrus space and checking up on him when we can. Like we did with Vi.”

“What I don’t know now is how we’re going to ease Cyrus into knowing that Ten’s back,” Violet remarks unhappily. “It’ll come as a shock for sure. We’re all pretty casual about the horrible things in this place, but it’s not like we’re immune to all this. I almost didn’t believe my eyes when I saw her myself. And it’s not like none of us struggled knowing we lost a friend. Maybe it didn’t seem that way to you, Ten, since we weren’t all crying or something.”

“No, I get it,” you try to be reassuring. “I know how everyone is and I’m not really bothered by any style of reunion. I’m just happy to be back with you. If only it weren’t in this facility, but…I guess I can’t do much about that.”

“Some people have thought about it, in the past” Eight says with a stone face. “Escaping, I mean. In any way we can. It’s not like we don’t wish for it either. Maybe it’s just in different ways that we do.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You aren’t sure how to respond to this. You know he means every method of escape, not just a physical breakout. It’s grim to think of.

“Well anyway,” Lav butts in. “It’s not enough for us to just tell Cyrus. I think it should be you. He needs to see you. Having all of us go up to him together would probably just overwhelm him.”

The others sort of hum and murmur in agreement, making you blush a bit.

“I mean, what am I even gonna say?” You scoff nervously. “I have no idea.”

Blue puffs up a cheek. “Just be yourself or whatever. It’s not hard. He likes you when you’re yourself, right?”

“I mean, I’d imagine anyone would. I’d hate to be someone completely different.”

“I feel like you are and aren’t,” Eight comments as his green eyes trail to his side, toward you. “You seem a little different than the girl I first met. I won’t say that’s a bad thing.”

You blush at his subtle compliment.

“Everyone here has changed a little, I think,” Five humbly remarks from behind her fork, her lips curved in a warm smile. “It’s nice.”

You look everyone over, noting their quiet bashful responses to Five’s comment. Nobody really likes to be overly sentimental about that kind of thing, you wager. Even you’re left feeling rather embarrassed, if grateful. You can hardly disagree with Five. Of the lot, it seems Violet and Eight have changed the most, but you won’t count out Lav and Blue, or even the twins. The peachy girlfriends have been fairly stable for the most part, and you honestly feel like they’re fairly mature, even when they giggle like schoolgirls between one another. Of course, you have no idea what they do on their own, but they seem fairly stable when hand in hand. You’re almost jealous that they have all this worked out when you still have yet to figure things out yourself, but still happy for them nonetheless.

Upon looking everyone over again, you wonder whether you should just abandon the others now to see Cyrus. Should you give him time too? Or is it better to get things over with immediately? You aren’t sure what the best course of action is now. It’d be kind of rude to just leave.

Violet keeps glancing your way as if awaiting your answer, your action. She knows you’re going to go to him, and even after all the issues you two have faced, she seems more supportive of you hanging with the guy now.

In the end, you do decide to move.

“Do you guys mind if I go?” You ask. “I mean, I just got back and everything. I want to spend a little more time with you all, but...”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Lav speaks on everyone’s behalf. Nobody disagrees. “Like I said, you’re the one Cyrus really needs to see right now. It might be a bit hard to deal with him like this, to even see him like this, but I think you can ease him down better than anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t say only I can,” you disagree. “You and Eight are fairly close to him too.”

Lav smiles. “I know. But I think I should talk to him and smooth things out on my own when he’s not so rattled. When he can think clearly and have a conversation with me like before. Same with Eight.”

You then look down at your food and give a bit of a frown.

“I wish I could have finished all of this, but it was a lot for me in the end,” you mumble. “Still, tell Charlie thank you again for me. I was really hungry.”

Lav laughs. “Sure thing.”

The others send you off with gentle waves and murmurs of good-lucks. Though you attempt to take care of your tray, you’re told not to bother and that it’ll be taken care of for you. Before leaving the cafeteria, you give one last look at everyone and wave them off.

Though there had been some tension between a few of them, you admit that being here again and having that time with them was refreshing. It was something you, and perhaps they, desperately needed. But now you have to put aside the pleasantries and deal with Cyrus.

You remember him showing spots of misery in past encounters. He’s always said he’s okay, when maybe that wasn’t really the case. Even you said today that you’d be fine when you aren’t wholly sure that’s going to be the case forever.

You suspected as much of Cyrus, but could never quite do anything for him beyond being present and sharing kind words. You had to be patient with his more miserable moods, and listen to him when he spoke as he had done for you. Once, you were the one in need of being lifted up. And now…

A slow sigh escapes your lips, but you try to push on despite the nervous pit in your stomach. When you step out into the hall, you aren’t sure just where to go. Thinking like someone who wants to be secluded, you can only suppose Cyrus would be in the theater or the gardens. Perhaps even the library.

But, before you can really make your way anywhere, you catch a light, cream color from the corner of your right eye, toward the gate in the hall. Upon glimpsing that way more closely, you mood sours. Standing behind the gate, leaning against the wall with a few papers in her hands, is Mom.

She’s examining the papers’ contents, flipping through each casually while she livelily smiles even while her attention is caught downward. The moment you see her, she sees you, and her head picks up and turns to face where you are. Her smile remains intact.

“Well there you are, my pretty girl,” she coos. “I knew you’d come running for my One the moment he arrived.”

Your heart jumps then, and refuses to stop beating wildly at her presence. You have no idea what she’s doing, or if she’s attempting to do something. Even if she’s only here to tease, you can’t afford to drop your guard.

“He’s in the gardens,” Mom tells you straight. Her eyes and head then both shift back to the papers she’s carrying. Her hands take the first page and move it to the back now that she’s done examining it. “Do be gentle with him. He’s been a rather sad little boy lately. Lovesick, I wager.”

“What do you want, Mom?” You question cautiously. Mom gives a bit of an airy giggle, but does not act so bombastically the way she has always tended to. She’s more reserved right now, and it’s genuinely off-putting.

“I want you to take care of him,” is Mom’s simple reply. “He’s fragile when he loses people, and I can’t really help him through all that all the time. Boys seldom open up to their mothers, you know—they get too embarrassed. But mothers hate to see their sons so sad.”

“You’re not his mother.”

Mom’s eyes then flicker with a fire you’ve not seen in a while, and her grip tenses. However, she tries to remain straight-faced. Her lips press tightly together a moment while she attempts to swallow the fury she feels. Eventually, she responds.

“I am his mother, and everyone’s mother,” she opts to say while attempting to keep her tone gentle and light. “And if you misbehave, I will punish you. Let’s not sour this moment, little girl. Simply listen to what I have to say, and do what I tell you.”

She again turns her head to face you, the fire still in her green eyes despite the haunting, sweet tone of her voice. “Do you understand?”

You gulp, but try to obey. “Yes, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.”

These words make you wince when you unwillingly hear Yosuke’s voice relay the same thing. But you don’t want to focus on that now.

“I do worry about him, Ten,” Mom tells you bluntly. “I’d very much hate to lose him, but my baby boy is sensitive sometimes.”

She laughs softly. “Just like his body. How funny.”

Your fists ball up, but you try not to show your anger otherwise. “Can I please go, Mom?”

“Yes,” is the blonde woman’s answer. “Do be good to my One. You’re a young lady, Ten. You have a role to fulfill with young men like him. We women often have to be there for the ones we love.”

“He’s always been the one there for me and everyone else,” you refute this. “I’m just returning the favor. I don’t play roles here.”

“Remind me of that after your next visit with our handsome thespians,” Mom chuckles.

Although you’re more than eager to get away from this conversation, you can’t help but worry that Mom’s going to throw all this into Yosuke’s face. She could if she wanted, and it would only make him mad and give you more work.

You hate hearing her say it’s your job to keep men at bay, when you already have to do it for your doctor. Not at all because you want to, but because it’s expected. She probably knows what she’s saying and is only trying to get under your skin.

And, expectedly, she knows what you’re thinking now too. Mom does not hesitate to peck at your unhappy thoughts.

“Yosuke knows how much you love my One, it seems,” she says. “Of course he’s not happy about it. Your cutie doctor is such a jealous boy. He wants you all to himself. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Cute?! What part of that is remotely attractive to anyone?! When Violet was jealous of you over Cyrus, it was horrible. A man like Yosuke being jealous is even worse when he has more power than you do and can choose to hurt you if he’s upset enough by his jealousy. You can’t believe Mom would get so flustered over the idea. It’s infuriating.

Mom gives a longing sigh, enamored by the thought. “Oh, to be wanted and fucked by a man like him! You should count yourself lucky, little girl. And really, you should live it up. You’d have the time of your life if you let him have his way. He feels wonderful in bed, and he’s capable of being sweet and loving, you know. He’d spoil you rotten.”

“If you’re so enamored with my doctor, then why don’t you take him?” You spit out. Mom merely giggles.

“Like I said, he wants you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have him now and then myself. He’s just too shy to let me in sometimes.”

Is she in denial? Yosuke wants nothing to do with Mom when you’re around. He only crawled back to her in a fit of miserable desperation. Though you think they’d be better off together, your doctor hardly wants to be saddled with Mom beyond the times he has to be for the sake of his weird contract with her. Yosuke keeps saying he owes her, and it feels like Mom’s got him on a leash because of that, even if it isn’t a particularly tight one.

You scoff in disgust and turn away. You want no more part in this conversation.

“I’m leaving.”

Mom hardly bothers to stop you. She merely watches as you cross the hall to the gardens, where she said Cyrus would be. You hope she was being honest about that. You’d hate to have to come back into the hall and face her.

Coming back into the gardens and being met with an array of colors and beautiful floral arrangements only leaves you breathless. At first, it’s because you’re taken back by the beauty of the area. But soon, that more positive feeling is replaced with a negative one when you remember that this is where the very reason for your confinement happened. You suppose it’s in the past now, but you remain bitter toward the whole debacle. Rightfully so. If Yosuke hadn’t been stupid, you’d have been okay.

No doubt Gale’s watching your reaction to this place, but you don’t much care. You have every right to be disgusted by the awful, and you won’t hide that you are.

Regardless, you do try to remember that this is one of the first places other than the rec room that you came with Cyrus. He’d even brough you here himself so that you could wake up to something beautiful. You almost blush thinking about it now.

Though, maybe that’s why he came here to begin with. He might not have wanted to be cooped up somewhere dark. Even he must know how dangerous that is. So, then he must really want to be better than he is now. He’s trying, isn’t he?

Giving a quick glance around at the floor between the planters does not give any significant results. Cyrus isn’t in this area. But you’ve yet to check the second room, and so you don’t hesitate to make your way there.

If only you could hear real birds chirping or see a real sky. But the visible creases where the colored walls of the room meet only dampen your wishes. This may be better than nothing at all, but it still hardly replaces the real thing.

You walk quietly and slowly on the makeshift little path, passing trees and brushing your fingers along their trunks. They’re about the only other real thing in these gardens next to the flowers, and you can’t help but like the little grooves and bumps of the bark and how they feel as your pads run along them.

Upon reaching the back corner of the room, you catch sight of a pale color of flesh from behind the bottom of a bush. Its twisting stems leave small gaps through which more color can be seen, color that you’re intimately familiar with by now.

Your heart jumps excitedly at the sight. Or perhaps nervously. You aren’t sure how to handle this moment now that it’s here, even though there’s nothing to truly be afraid of when you’re going to be with someone you trust so much.

Rounding the bush, you see more of Cyrus’ frame crumpled on the ground, his back toward you as he lays on his side and faces the wall. His head is resting on his left arm which is nestled between his head and the floor. The other arm is laying forward slightly, the fingers of his hand curled up a bit.

Seeing your friend’s familiar dark hair and pale face only leaves you dizzy after all this time without having seen it once. For the longest time, your only vision of him and anyone else came from mere memory, and it’d been so long since you saw anyone’s faces that relaying them in your mind no longer felt like the real them. For a moment, you almost wonder whether you’re dreaming all this. But you refuse to let yourself hesitate now.

Cautiously, you kneel by Cyrus’ body and reach out a hand to him. Though you mean to touch his shoulder, your hand trails to his cheek and cups it carefully. Cyrus’ eyes are closed, and even when you touch him, they don’t open.

He’s really here? It was jarring enough to see the others, but being here now is something entirely different. You aren’t even sure how you feel, or how to process this all. Your head’s spinning and your heart is fluttering. You can’t really even focus because of your surprise at seeing Cyrus again.

Still, you finally shift your hand over to Cyrus’ shoulder, but before you can even shake him or say a word, he speaks.

“You’re always timely, aren’t you?” His voice remains low and tired. You’d be happy to hear it again if not for how dreary and defeated it sounds. Not only that, but his words utterly confuse you.

Your hand pulls back, and you look on at Cyrus’ face with worry.

“What?”

Slowly, Cyrus’ eyelids open, the familiar aqua color of them emerging from their concealment. Cyrus does not look at you, rather in front of him somewhere.

“What is it this time?” He asks. “The same song and dance?”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I guess you don’t,” Cyrus continues to mutter. “Maybe you never do because I won’t let you. But you don’t need to understand. I don’t need to repeat myself. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Cyrus, you’re scaring me,” you warn him. “Look at me, won’t you?”

Cyrus’ eyes again shut hard in frustration, and his hand balls up tighter. “No, I won’t. It’s only going to hurt.”

Your heart sinks. Is he losing his mind? You know he’s hurting, but you don’t understand what he’s driving at now other than that hurt. Does he not think you’re real?

“You act like you have no idea what’s going on when you always do this,” he says bitterly. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s the same thing.”

“Cyrus, this isn’t a dream!” You’re left distraught upon realizing he’s been dreaming about you like this.

“I’ve heard that before. It’s never true.”

Still adamant about his perspective, Cyrus then shifts his body up off the floor, pushing himself up enough so that he can bring his legs forward and bend them. Rather than sit against the wall, he surprisingly pushes forward and knocks you over. Though he straddles your body and keeps his hands pressed on either side of your shoulders, against the cold floor, Cyrus’ now-open eyes refuse to look anywhere above your neck. He won’t look at you directly whatsoever.

“I keep telling myself that maybe if I just get rid of you, I’ll be better off,” he mutters, reaching one hand shakily toward your neck while his eyes remain affixed to your throat. His hand never meets your flesh, and he merely hovers his tensed palm and fingers just above it. You let out long, concentrated breaths despite the sudden fear you feel at Cyrus’ drastically unusual actions.

After lingering his hand above your neck a while, Cyrus with draws it and winces.

“But I can’t,” he says. “I can’t hurt you, because I just don’t want to. I have all the power in the world here and yet I won’t try to use it. But I refuse to let go either, even when it hurts. I can’t have it both ways, so all I can do is hurt myself.”

Finally, he pushes off of you and sits back on the floor by your feet. His hands shift back to support his weight.

“Do you understand now? I just want you to leave me alone,” he begs tiredly, still averting his gaze from your face. “I hate having to explain this to you every time. Please, I don’t want to keep doing this.”

“This isn’t you,” You try to keep pecking at him while sitting up yourself. “And you don’t have to do this alone. You can’t keep hurting yourself forever because you’re afraid of hurting anyone else or letting go. And it’s okay to feel bad or frustrated. You have every right to feel that way after everything you’ve been hurt by. But you’re important too.”

“You don’t usually talk back this much,” Cyrus remains adamant on the idea that he’s dreaming. He curls his knees up and leans into them , resting his head on his arms which he’s folded atop his knees. “I guess a part of me is still desperate to keep going. But I don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t care!” you shoot back. Unable to reach him with words alone, you push back against him in turn and knock him onto the floor. Your hands grip his shoulders tightly, and you keep your face atop his. Even now, Cyrus keeps his head tilted one way and avoids looking at you. However, you notice a rather surprised look on his face when you’re atop him.

“This is new…”

“I’m real!” You cry out desperately, your brows stuck tilted up as you remain utterly devastated seeing the young man’s defeated state. “Cyrus, just look at me! Please! I’m real!”

Your companion’s face twists and strains the more he hears your cries. He’s fighting with himself about whether to believe you, but you refuse to let him potentially decide to ignore you. Your hands then grip both sides of his Cyrus’ face by his cheeks, and you force him to face you. By now, frustrated tears are slowly forming in your eyes, but they’ve yet to fall.

“I didn’t push through hell using your advice just to come back and watch you give up!” You shout at him. “I’m here! I’m safe and I’m okay! So stop beating yourself up! Stop holding in all this grief and cry, god damn it!”

Unable to hold your own tears back, they begin to spill out frivolously, and you wind up burying your head down into Cyrus’ neck and chest as you let out violent sobs. Not once do your hands drop from Cyrus’ face, held fast there as if glued onto his skin. Your chest rises and falls sharply with each quaking and labored breath you take amidst your cries.

You aren’t sure why you’re crying so much now. In fact, you feel bad that you’re the one who burst out first. it isn’t only Cyrus and your worry for him that’s really brought you to this point, but perhaps a mixture of every awful thing you’ve kept and felt throughout your confinement. You were thrilled to be with Lav again, eager to see her and happy that she was able to be honest about things and still make peace with you.

Atop that, you were able to find happiness with your friends. Being with them again left you winded with joy after so much time spent longing for that very thing. But somehow, it took this: it took seeing someone you love so utterly brought down to such a low for you to finally let go. You don’t want anyone to be this way. You felt this way before, and you refuse to let anyone else suffer like this if you can help it.

Suddenly, you feel Cyrus’ palms cupping at the backs your hands, his touch gentle, if a bit hesitant. Although you must look so disgusting sobbing like this with your face red and nose running, you look up at your companion and catch his eyes finally meeting yours. They’re wet with tears, but Cyrus has yet to fully commit to them when he’s still trying to guess whether you’re telling the truth. But, touching you now, he seems a little more convinced. His lips are parted, and he almost looks ready to recoil in hurt when he sees your tearful face.

Cyrus can’t think of what to say, as he remains quiet while observing your expression.

“This isn’t like you,” he musters in an almost hushed voice. “This isn’t how this goes.”

Both of your hands drop, though Cyrus remains with his gaze affixed to you, still trying to piece things together. After a while, he shakily brings his hand toward your cheek. Only after a brief, quiet contemplation does he finally muster up the courage to touch you. The tears beading in his eyes finally roll quietly down the corners, dripping along his ears and the sides of his face as gravity pulls them this way.

“You’re alive?” Cyrus remains wide-eyed at this realization, uttering the question as if he hardly believes it himself. You press your lips together as if doing so will help contain your already spilling tears. You nod, and hold Cyrus’ hand against your cheek, leaning into his palm happily.

“I’m alive.”

You feel Cyrus’ hand tremble atop your skin. You know he must be so shaken by all this, so you say nothing more and instead lean forward to wrap your arms tightly around him. Your chest presses up against Cyrus’, and his head nestles dearly upon your shoulder as he returns your embrace with one of his own. You continue to stay silent even when you hear the young man let out a few sobbing gasps into your ear, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin. His chest sputters and shakes with each uneven inhale, but neither of you let go of the other until you’re good and ready.

You let Cyrus cry. He needs to. He’s always been a tinge restrained about letting things out this way, but that’s hardly helped him. Your companion has always been there to help you through your own crises, and now it’s your turn to help him with his. You refuse to be his reliant crutch, knowing that he doesn’t need that dependency. No, you want to support him, not carry him wholly. Both of you know by now how important that is to distinct. But in this moment, Cyrus needs you, and so you’re here.

However much time passes hardly matters, because you stay where you are without question until both of you are able to work toward speech again. At some point, you and Cyrus pull away from one another and look back into one another’s eyes, both red and puffy by this point. Once more, Cyrus attempts to come to grips with the reality that you’re here before him.

Quietly, you lay back on his chest in the hopes that his feeling your warmth will convince him. Cyrus hardly refuses this gesture and lays dormant with you atop him, one hand coming up to the back of your head and hold it against him.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says, his voice vibrating against his chest and against you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why?” You don’t understand. Your arms remain around Cyrus, your ear pressed against his chest enough for you to hear his steady heartbeat. It’s comforting.

“I could have hurt you,” Cyrus answers regretfully. “I thought that—I mean…”

“You’ve been having dreams?” You try not to sound too shocked or stirred, keeping your voice gentle and low. Truly, you’re feeling tired from all the crying, and no doubt Cyrus is as well, atop all the emotional exhaustion he was already feeling. You want to be kind for him now, to help ease him into this. You think he might still be struggling to believe you’re here, even if he partly accepts it.

“Sort of,” Cyrus admits hesitantly. “I wasn’t for a while, but they started when another Number showed up. Every one was the same. You’d be there telling me not to give up, or you’d be trying to convince me that you were still here. You never seemed to understand why I felt like I did. Maybe you were just naïve, but I don’t know why I painted you that way in my head. I wanted to listen to your words, but after so long of hearing the same thing, I…”

Your eyes squeeze shut in response to this, your heart hurting at the mention.

“If I had more time to get over losing you,” Cyrus goes on wearily. “It wouldn’t have been so hard on me. I know in time I would have been able to overcome this like all things. I would have been okay, taken time for myself and just figured things out.

“But the thing is, with Jade, I had a long while to get over her being gone before you showed up. But with you, I feel like I barely grasped it before someone else came. After what we talked about last time, it hit me so much harder. I never expected them to try replacing you so soon. I…”

He pauses just a brief moment as he struggles.

“…I didn’t know what to think. What made it worse is that I’ve never gotten that close with anyone before. I opened up so much with Jade, but I never got that intimate the way I had with you. So it only heightened the agony of losing you.”

You didn’t really consider this. Pickle seems to have come in much more quickly into this place than you. By the time you showed up, Cyrus had been able to act like his usual self. No doubt he suffered, and even when you were there, he seemed hesitant to talk too loosely about Jade. But even so, he was able to put his grief aside to welcome you. With Pickle, he hardly had the time because he was still trying to accept what happened. Pickle had said Cyrus seemed pretty distant despite his best efforts to be welcoming, after all.

As for Jade, you suppose it’s true that Cyrus has made more bounds with you than he had with her. You almost feel selfish for being what Jade wasn’t because Cyrus was too hesitant to move with her. Maybe you feel like you’ve stolen him away, even though it hardly matters when she’s dead. Though, thinking of this only breaks your heart. You can’t tell Cyrus about it, but the fact that you know the truth when you’re right here with him while not saying a word about it feels utterly dirty.

Still, you have another concern on your mind.

“Cyrus, you worry me,” you tell him bluntly. “You always tell me and everyone else that you’ll be fine, and then you do this kind of thing to yourself. You even just admitted to me that you hurt yourself. And Eight earlier—I saw him. He admitted to me something that he couldn’t keep to himself.”

Your grip tightens on Cyrus. “He said he saw you with scissors. So when I heard that, I got so scared. I didn’t want to think you were so willing to give up!”

Cyrus exhales through his nose and curls his fingers in your hair, over your scalp,

“I’m sorry,” he again apologizes earnestly. “I’m really no good, huh? No good at hiding my feelings.”

“I need you to be honest with yourself and with us about that kind of thing,” you say firmly. “Nobody wants you to be like this. You especially don’t. I know you don’t.”

“I think about it sometimes,” Cyrus admits with a morose tone. “That day, I was trying hard to distract myself because I could physically feel my body shutting down from all the stress. I was in the crafts room thumbing through whatever I could, and I found a pair of scissors someone had hidden away. They fell to the floor, and when I picked them up, I couldn’t…”

He sighs. “…I couldn’t help but think about it. I was gonna put them back, but I just stood there, thinking. Wondering. Only when Eight showed up did I snap out of it. But I’ve told you before that death crosses my mind, and that I have my moments. I don’t like thinking about it. I don’t like the idea of a self-inflicted death. But there are times where I’ll wonder what it’s like. I’ll wonder why I’m alive, what my purpose is, all that. It’s not something you want to hear, is it?”

“No, but I don’t want you holding it in,” you again remain firm. “You’ve always been the one trying to take responsibility for things. It’s okay to mess up and have doubts, Cyrus. You know that.”

“I know.” You feel Cyrus’ head shift to the side after he says this. “Sometimes I just forget. I always go through this. But I’m not lying when I say I’m always able to pick myself up.”

“It’s still not healthy,” you refute him. “Eight, the guy who hardly likes to admit he has feelings, was here saying how worried he was about you, Cyrus. For god’s sake. You scare us sometimes.”

Cyrus’ hand drops to your back. “I’ll try harder.”

“No!” You shoot back, pulling your head up and looking down at the surprised young man’s pale face. You had wanted to be sensitive, but you can’t take hearing this from him now. “I don’t want you to try harder! You work hard enough! You need to let others help you, you need to be a little selfish and cry a little more. I want you to stop being Mr. Responsible and start being you! Things are always going to be bad here. You know that. We can’t predict what will happen or why, but we can’t give up! We can’t shoulder the blame or the grief or anything else on our own. Understand?! What’s the point of all the advice you’ve given me when you won’t even follow it?”

Cyrus’ aqua eyes remain widened as he tries to take in all your words. But, in the end, he isn’t sure what to say.

“I’m…I’m so-“

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupt him, tears again slowly building up in your eyes but not quite falling this time. “Don’t you dare!”

The young man beneath you quiets himself and shifts his eyes away. You’ve never seen him this down before. But you won’t let him stay this way no matter what. You refuse.

“Cyrus,” you breathe, still on the verge of crying again yet still managing to evade it. “You’re so stupid. You’re just as stupid as I am,”

Your arms slightly loosen from Cyrus, so that you can bring both hands to either side of his head. Without hesitation, you lean in and give Cyrus a sweet kiss. Your eyes close, though you’ve apparently gone and startled your companion judging by the light, muffled “mm?” he gives in response to the sudden kiss. Though, after assessing it a moment, he does not shy away.

Cyrus holds your hands against him and returns your lipped gesture with a kiss of his own. Though you intended only to give him a quick peck, both your lips linger on one another, and it becomes a little more mouthy than that. You wind up so caught up in the gesture that you hardly want it to end, but you’re the one who pulls away first before it goes much further. You suppose this is what happened when Lav tried to console him. You won’t let the same thing happen with you.

When Cyrus is able to catch his breath, he looks on at you with a continued surprise.

“What was that for?”

You try to smile for him. “Before I left, I wanted to kiss you, and you wouldn’t let me because you were worried about my doctor knowing about it. But right now, I don’t care. I said I’d do it another day, remember?”

Cyrus’ cheeks grow a tinge red as his aqua eyes shift away in embarrassment. “You waited all this time just for that?”

You give him a light nod. “I also sort of hoped it might make you feel better, and convince you that I’m really here. I want you to believe me about that.”

“I don’t want to not believe you. I just…I just don’t want to rely so much on you either. I can’t afford to.”

“Yes you can,” you insist with a firmer cupping of each side of his head. “Cyrus, I had to learn to stop being so dependent, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop relying on help from others when I need it. You and Nine have always been so self-reliant, and you need to learn to let others in more often. It’s okay to lean on my shoulder, you know. Or Nine’s, or even Eight’s.”

Cyrus remains downtrodden when you mention Lav, but he says nothing of her right now.

You continue on. “I care about you. I want you to be okay.”

“If you’re here just after I went through all this grief, then what happens if I let my guard down like before and all this happens again anyway?” Cyrus persists in his doubt.

“You can’t predict this kind of thing,” you tell him openly. Talking to him right now isn’t precisely easy. Even now, you wonder whether you’re saying the right thing. “You knew that, yet still felt hurt by that reality. I’ve had to learn that sort of thing too. I won’t say it’s easy, but we can’t let things break us like this. We can’t afford to lose this fight. You want to live, don’t you?”

Cyrus’ mouth shuts as he ponders this question.

“Cyrus,” you call him worriedly. “You told me you want to live once. Don’t tell me now that that was a lie.”

“It wasn’t,” you’re assured finally. “But I know death isn’t something I can avoid either. There are times where I think I only live because I have to.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You live because you want to. Don’t stay alive out of obligation. Live for you and those that you love. I don’t want to keep seeing you do this to yourself.”

When Cyrus remains quiet, you sigh and lean your head forward, pressing your forehead to his. Your eyes close, your hand still cupping his cheek all the while.

“I didn’t mean to leave,” you croon. “I had no choice—I was taken away so suddenly. I know you and Nine both struggled since I was just quickly ripped away, and I was pretty hurt too when I realized what was happening. I knew nobody would ever know where I was or why, and it ate at me.

“That time I spent with you and Nine was probably one of the best times I’ve had in a long time in this place. I relished it after, because it made me feel whole. When I was ripped from it all, I felt so fucked over, and I wasn’t even sure when I’d see you again, if even ever again. I was afraid you’d forget me, or that I’d forget you. My mind raced so much and I was always on edge because I had no idea what to expect. But I kept living even when I reached that point where I thought about dying, or where I expected to.

“I lived for you and for myself. I wanted to be with you all again, and even in the face of death, I kept going. I even sought the help of people I never wanted to trust, who surprised me by being genuinely human despite who they really were. But don’t tell me you live because you have to. That’s meaningless. Live because you want to live. Because you love us, because you love yourself. Okay?”

Cyrus says nothing, but he again embraces you tightly. You let your body fall closer to and against his while he holds you dearly. Your head nestles between his and his shoulder.

“Okay,” he tiredly murmurs in your ear. “I won’t say I’ll be completely fine right away. This is still weighing on me in a way you can’t fix with a few words, Ten. But I’ll try. I don’t want to feel like this any more than anyone else does.”

“I know. Neither do I.”

Cyrus goes quiet for a few seconds before asking,

“Promise me this is real, okay?”

Your heart sinks at these words. He’s still struggling with this after all.

“I’ve never gotten to this point with you before in my dreams,” Cyrus goes on. “I’ve always woken up before I could really tell you what I needed. If this is still a dream, I don’t really want to wake up from it because this is probably the best version of you I’ve seen. I really missed this you. The real you. I need her. So please tell me I’m not dreaming just one more time. I need to know. I need to be sure.”

Your lips tighten and press together as you again threaten to cry, but you try to stay strong and give Cyrus what words he needs.

“I’m real,” you croak. “I promise. And when you come back out and join the rest of us again, you’ll know I’m telling the truth. Alright?”

Cyrus’ grip on you tightens as your gentle words sink in.

“Thank you.”

You won’t make fun of Cyrus or look down on him for needing this from you. He’s in a pitiful place right now, same as you when you begged Gale to touch you and say, “I love you”. You understand that need well now more than ever. Hopefully, Cyrus can raise himself up like you did, like he has before. But this time, you want him to really hold on strong. You don’t want to hear any more of his “I’m fine” spiels when they aren’t wholly true. He’s suffered more than you can ever imagine, and of course that weighs on a person. But you won’t let him fracture his heart further, nor attempt to pick it up because he thinks he has no choice.

You will all probably die here, and that’s hard to ignore. But until that time, you refuse to stop trying to live. You don’t want to feel the way you felt in The Overseer’s room ever again.

After a moment’s reprieve from the tense conversation, Cyrus starts to shift up, so you get off of him and sit back on the floor. The royal blue clothed young man merely steadies himself back on his palms and looks on at you with worry.

“Where were you?”

You sit on your calves, hands nervously fiddling with each other in your lap. “It’s kind of a long story, but not one I’m allowed to fully tell you.”

“I’m not going to like what I hear regardless of what it is, but I still want to know whatever you are allowed to tell me.”

It seems Cyrus hardly questions the limited nature of your ability to tell what happened at its full capacity. Though, he’s someone who knows well the need to be quiet about this or that. You’re glad he’s at least able to speak normally to you now, but you still worry about hurting him by mentioning what you know you need to. Not just about where you’ve been, but about your body. But, for now, you’ll keep things focused to your confinement.

“Well, I brought it up with Nine and Eight already,” you try to start. “I actually managed to see everyone today before coming here. But as far as what I could say, I’ve only been allowed to be more open with you three. The others, I just told I couldn’t fully remember. I’m surprised they accepted that so quickly.”

“It’s hard not to convince them that memory loss is a factor in this place when we’ve clearly seen how real it is,” Cyrus retorts. Though he’s managed to come down from his earlier state, he still sounds rather bemoaned and sluggish. The lower lids of his eyes are still a tinge puffed and discolored from his bout of tearful cries. “And if anyone doesn’t fully believe you, they tend to be accepting of the need to keep secrets when the stakes are high.”

“I guess so,” you don’t disagree. “But are you sure you want to hear it? You’re sort of…”

“Sensitive?”

You bite your lower lip. You’d wanted to avoid saying it outright. “Yeah.”

Despite his morose state, Cyrus tries to give a mere hint of a smile. “I just need to reset myself or something. I can’t change what you’ve gone through any more than I can change what I have, but whatever it is, you have my sympathy. I’ve noticed you look a little different than before. It’s worrying. But I’ll live if you tell me what happened. I promise.”

Your hand comes up to your cheek after hearing him say this.

“Different…” you repeat. “Everyone’s been commenting on my appearance, but I feel fine. I just need to work on fixing my body up again. But, in any case, if you really are sure you can take it, then fine.”

You then drop your hand and instead bring both forward. “Here. Hold them.”

Cyrus’ eyes, which had trailed away, pick back up toward you. He gives a puzzled look.

“Huh?”

“I want to help keep you grounded while I say what I need to,” you explain. “Even if this is what it takes. You and Nine both tend to fuss over me even when the things that have happened to me have already passed. So I need you to stay with me and try not to do that. I don’t want your worry to send you back into dreamland with my naïve specter.”

Cyrus looks away and blushes a bit. “Sorry. I can’t exactly help how my subconscious works.”

“I told you not to apologize,” you try to remain firm. “I don’t care about all that now. Just take my hands, okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, your companion finally agrees. He shifts his legs to cross them, then scoots up a bit and reaches both his palms out to you. Gently, you take his hands and wrap yours around them. Cyrus’ aqua eyes fixate on the source of your conjoined touch. His face resonates a bit of distant longing, and his fingers curl around your palm as he attempts to adjust to all this.

“I can’t tell you a lot about what I’ve learned. I have to keep quiet about it, the way you often have to keep your own secrets,” you start. “And what we say here stays between you, me, Eight, and Nine, because I’ve already told them all this.”

“Even the emotional stuff?” Cyrus attempts to joke, though he sounds so pitiful saying it. You still try to smile for him anyway.

“That can stay with us if you want. But I told you not to hesitate opening up more about how you feel with others.”

You sigh, ever hesitant to have to be honest about all the cruel things you’ve endured. Still, you decide to push through it as you had with Eight and Nine. You tell Cyrus every little thing you explained to them, save for anything about Jade and anything about your impregnable state. Eight had advised against overwhelming him, and you trust that advice wholly here. You worry how things will go when you eventually do tell Cyrus at least about your bodily issue, but for now, you brush that aside.

It hurts to watch Cyrus’ eyes widen in disbelief as you explain your whereabouts as best you can and within the limits The Overseer gave. Even worse, it hurts to feel his hands tighten around yours as he comes to grips with the reality that you’ve suffered so much. You want dearly to tell him about The Overseer and Lucius as a warning, and about the cameras and about all the feeds. Even now, you wonder just what Cyrus looked like back then, being so horrified and out of sorts.

Gale’s discussion of your feed again comes to mind. You recall them mentioning Cyrus remembering a family member of his. Someone sick, you think. You wonder what kind of life he lived before this. Has he always been tasked with caring for others, and hardly himself? Granted, if it were family that he loved, he’d still do it without question. You’re convinced that that’s just the sort of person he is and always was, even if his social tendencies and reactive tendencies were once different from the version of him you know now.

You also wonder, then, if all his negative tendencies have persisted throughout his life as well.

It’s meaningless to peck at the past now when there’s too much to focus on in the moment. So, you try to save that thought for another time. When you finally finish explaining what you can with Cyrus, everything about the bed, the room, and the two doctors you saw, you quiet yourself and look upon his wide-eyed expression, his lips parted in disbelief. He hardly knows what the hell to say.

“I know you’re freaking out about it,” You say. “I can see you trying to process it. But you know, I tried really hard to push through. At some point, I thought about dying, and tried to accept that I would. Not because I wanted peace, but because I felt hopeless. I hated it.”

You squeeze Cyrus’ hands assuredly. “But you and Nine helped me more than you’ll ever know. In my lowest moments, I thought of you. Gale helped me come back up enough to have the confidence and strength to keep going, and it was your advice and Nine’s that allowed me to stay sane. I meditated, the way you taught me. Remember?”

Cyrus’s face scrunches up, hurt. Even though you try to keep his focus on the positive, he immediately goes back to the horrid.

“Why do that to you? What justification is there?”

You frown, disheartened. “I don’t know. I was told it was because of Yosuke’s actions, and partially mine for being open about the girl I wasn’t supposed to talk about. But I have no idea otherwise.”

“And Yosuke’s still going to be overprotective of you? Overbearing? Sick?”

Your eyes close and you suck in a long breath before letting it out equally as slow. “Yes. He is. And I have to deal with it. And I will do what I can to make sure this never happens again. I won’t let him be the reason I go down.”

You then re-open your eyes and look Cyrus’ way, watching his downtrodden face. You wish you could snap him out of this, but you agree that he’s going to end up taking a bit of time to get back to his old self. You’ll help however you can.

“I can’t change any of that. I have to put up with it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up,” you again remind him. “I was once told that sometimes, you have to strategically roll yourself back in defeat, but that doesn’t mean you’re wholly despondent and that you’ve given up entirely. I’ve come to understand the need for that kind of approach. Every time I have to let go, it hurts. I still get scared, I still cry. But I’m not going to let that make me think I’ve lost, or that I’m weak. Neither should you.”

Cyrus says nothing, but absorbs your words quietly. You frown and lean in a bit.

“You and Nine have both said that it’s okay to express your grievances—to cry and be scared and be angry,” you remind him gently. “But you have to actually do it. You both taught me so much, and I want to make sure you haven’t forgotten those things yourself.”

Again, Cyrus says nothing. You’re wondering if your words are really resonating with him at all, or if he’s dodging them in his negative state. Though bothered by his defeat, you press on.

“Cyrus, you know you won’t always have me forever.” Perhaps this is a harsh reminder, but you want to make a point. “Nor everyone here. Things are going to unexpectedly happen and we can’t always be ready for it. I feel bad that you had to go through this, but I don’t want you to get so comfortable with me around that you let your guard down, nor do I like the alternative of you keeping up any walls to avoid being hurt. You know better. I know you do. I just want you to be ready for the next time bad things happen, if they do. Everything that’s happened to me is over. I just have to keep moving forward regardless of that fact, regardless of how much it’s affected me and will continue to affect me.

“It’s okay to be afraid, it’s okay to be sad or worried. I just want you to try holding on for the right reasons and in the right ways. You always worry me when you get this way. And no, it’s not easy to practice what you need to. Even you aren’t perfect at it and you’ve been here so much longer than any of us.”

“You don’t need to make this about me,” Cyrus refutes you finally. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I know you are,” you assure him with another squeeze of his hands. “We can be worried about each other. But my point is, we can’t give up. I’ve been telling you this over and over. I don’t want you to give up. Please, just tell me why you’re feeling like this. Why you’re struggling. I can help.”

“I go through It with everyone,” your companion reminds you. “Like I said, I hadn’t been given enough time to get over potentially losing you. With the others, I had some time. In the beginning, I had no idea how to process any of this. I was afraid all the time, I was panicking all the time. I was even angry at some point. I tried to keep going because I felt I had to, but also because I didn’t want to lose myself to this place any more than anyone else here.

“It’s not even just the fact that I was shaken about losing you, either. I’ve gone through this so many times that it’s just been chipping away at me and my heart. I’m so tired of this. You all have been so supportive, but sometimes it just weighs on me too much. I’m not some flawless god who can overcome any obstacle, you know. I’m weak too.”

You shake your head. “I know you are, Cyrus. I said I used to put you on a pedestal, but you and I are really no different in terms of not knowing what the hell we’re doing sometimes.”

Cyrus blushes and shifts his eyes to the side. “I guess. But as far as this goes, you just mean enough to me that it did really hit me more than I expected. I felt lost. I’d finally started to open up to someone I cared about, and immediately that was taken away from me. I didn’t know what to think, so my mind got all twisted up. I don’t want to depend on you, but I don’t want to push you away either.”

You can’t help but smile wearily at this last remark. “You know, you said the same when you thought I was still your dream version of me. You don’t want to let go. So don’t. You still hold onto memories of Jade, so do the same with me. Just don’t let it eat at you, that’s all.”

Embarrassed, Cyrus give a low groan and hesitates to look your way. You frown, then.

“You will have to eventually deal with losing me, though,” you remind him rather unhappily. “I’m sorry if that’s a harsh thing to say. I don’t want to lose you either. But you can’t just give up over someone you really care about. If I die, I’d want you to keep living and fighting. Please remember that. Maybe next time my dream self will give you better advice that way.”

“That’s not funny,” Cyrus huffs. Though, he doesn’t quite look genuinely offended, more just bashful at the callout. Strangely, he changes his tune just after pausing a bit.

“…You’ve changed, Ten. You seem a little more aggressive. Not in a bad way, just…you’re not hiding away as much.”

“Is that weird?”

Cyrus shakes his head slightly. “No, not at all. I’m happy for you. You’ve grown up a lot. And even with all you’ve come to know, you’re still you. You haven’t lost yourself. I wish I could say the same about me.”

“Don’t say that! You haven’t lost yourself either,” you reprehensively remark. “You’re still you, you’re just in a bad state right now. It’ll be okay.”

You then pout a bit. “When’s the last time you meditated?”

“I don’t remember” Cyrus answers with a shrug. “I haven’t been in the right mindset to do it for a good while. I wanted to wait until I was able to come down from this before I started up. Now I feel like my misery was worthless because you came back.”

You remain taken aback by this remark. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Cyrus grips your hands firmly. He remains alert now at the possibility of having offended you. “That’s not what I meant!”

He lets go of your hands, then, and clamps one over his forehead in frustration. “Fuck, I’m stupid.”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at his reaction to the blunder. You reach a hand up to his hair and teasingly tussle it.

“You are,” you playfully affirm. “But It’s okay. I told you that I am too.”

“Ow,” Cyrus recoils a bit and brushes your hand away. “Not so hard.”

You smile as he smooths out his hair, but are then reminded of the others again.

“I met the new Number, actually,” you bring it up, though refrain from relaying that he might well be the new Eleven. You’re sure Cyrus can gather it on his own. “Pickle’s a weird name, but I guess he chose that.”

“Well, I guess if it works for him,” Cyrus replies with a tired shrug. With his hair back in sorts, he continues to lean his elbows on his knees and hunch forward. “I haven’t exactly been talking to him lately with everything that’s gone on. Or anyone, really.”

You frown a bit. “I heard. The others really just wanted to give you some space and some time to yourself to work things through. But maybe that’s not what you needed.”

“It is and it isn’t,” is the reply you’re given. Cyrus’ eyes trail down to the floor as he thinks on this. “I needed reassurance, but I needed to come to terms with all this too. I don’t know. Eight and Nine tried to help, but…”

He trails off, leaving you with concern. “About Nine…”

Cyrus goes quiet when you say this, but he doesn’t stop you.

“She told me what happened. Are you okay?”

“I wish she hadn’t said anything, but I know she’ll tell people about how she’s feeling because she doesn’t like to stuff some of her feelings away,” Cyrus grumbles. “I guess it’s good that she’s the one who said it, though. I probably wouldn’t have.”

“Cyrus…”

Upon hearing your warning Tone, Cyrus sighs. “I was in a bad place. We both were. Maybe if neither of us had been that way, being together might have been nice. But at that point, I just wanted to be touched. Held. Anything. She was trying to comfort me. But we were so fucked up about what happened and when it happened that we just…did something stupid. I couldn’t even really enjoy it, and we didn’t even really finish. It didn’t do either of us any good in the end. I don’t know why the fuck we thought it would.”

“Are you upset with her?”

“No. I’m upset with myself. I’ve just been too afraid to face her.”

You sigh. “Cyrus, you really gotta get over your fear of confronting women.”

Your companion gives another groan. “Look, I’m trying my best, alright?”

His reaction leaves you giggling again. “I know, I know. But really, please talk to her when you’re ready. I won’t have you two being distant. I just got done helping you and Violet smooth things over. Honestly!”

For once, Cyrus laughs, even though his attempt sounds weary and pitiful.

“You’ve gotta stop making fun of me when I’m at my lowest.”

“I refuse,” you playfully retort, happy to see Cyrus smile again. However, this gleaming moment hardly lasts when he again starts to think on things and let his smile fade.

“What now?” He asks. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back out there today. I need to think about all this.”

“You can take your time,” you assure him gently. “The others will wait for you, like they wait for everyone. But in the meantime, I think maybe you should try getting back into your meditation stuff again too, when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

You pout. “You should eat something too. I’d rather you not end up looking like me.”

Cyrus shifts his eyes around as he awkwardly ponders this, but does not disagree. Although he refuses to leave, he does decide he should eat, and so you don’t hesitate to go back to the cafeteria to bring him something.

Though Cyrus has a few reservations about you leaving, he does not stop you and merely watches as you walk off. When you make your way to the cafeteria, nobody’s really there anymore. Perhaps they’re all off in the rec room or some other place. The hall is even thankfully empty and Mom-free, so moving between rooms is fairly easy.

When you meet with Charlie, you give a quick word of thanks and an explanation of what you need, a request which the worker happily obliges when he hears who it’s for. You’re given a paper with a happy face on it, which you return with a gentle smile of your own before parting.

Your return to the gardens causes Cyrus, who by now has moved so that he’s sitting against the wall, to perk up a bit when he realizes that you didn’t just disappear. It pains you to see him react this way when you realize he’s expecting it to happen again, but you refuse to let him see you so down. You take a place beside him, give him the tray of food, and let him have at it.

While watching him eat, you start to think that it’s odd to have to be the one carrying someone. You’d gotten so accustomed to others helping you that such a role reversal seems out of place. It was even a little weird when you were the one comforting Lav about her worries.

Admittedly, you’re not even confident you gave the best of advice to either of them, but you are certain you managed to convey the things you needed to. Lav seems to have adjusted okay, but then again she’s had to carry most everyone and act as Cyrus in his stead. You’d hate for her to think she has to shoulder every responsibility the way Cyrus thinks he has to.

And even if Cyrus isn’t completely shut off in his misery like he was earlier now that he’s had the chance to see you, that hardly means your strategy was effective. For all you know, he could just be pretending to be fine again. The way you’re pretending to stay chipper when a lot of this truly bothers you.

Though, you don’t want to believe that your words were worthless. You’re certain they had worth, and you’re sure that your companions will have taken your intentions to heart. They can see you’re trying, and it seems that that’s made them want to keep trying too. But trying isn’t all you want them to do. You have to work together and on your own all at once. That’s what makes you all strong, isn’t it? The ability to fight for yourselves, and for each other. At least, you think so.

You allow Cyrus to eat in silence as he processes most of everything you’ve talked about. You can tell by his distant stare that he’s stuck in his own thoughts, but neither of you are quick to interrupt the other’s. You’re fine this way.

When he eventually finishes his food, Cyrus pushes his tray aside and lays back down on the floor, curling up a bit on his side next to you. This gesture takes you aback.

“You shouldn’t lie down after eating, you know.”

“I’m still kind of tired,” Cyrus dismisses this. ‘I haven’t really been sleeping much except when I’m not being hovered over by Mom. And when I do, I’ve been having those dreams. Is it okay?”

“I dunno, but I won’t stop you,” you chuckle softly. “Should I go? Or do you want me to stay?”

Cyrus grumbles and closes his eyes, but does not give a clear answer. You don’t much need to hear one anyway, because you know what he’s trying to say without saying it. You put a hand on his head and smile.

“I’ll stay, and I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise. Though, you know something?”

Though he does not bother to attempt looking your way again, Cyrus gives a tired, curious “hm?”. You laugh.

“You’re acting like a little kid.”

“Am not.”

You don’t press it further and instead give another chuckle. It’s this that Cyrus leave you off on to shut down. Despite him saying he’s struggled to sleep, he seems to slip back into a slumber rather quickly with you around. Your hand hardly leaves his head until you’re certain by the sounds of his steady breaths that he’s drifted off. Admittedly, you’d like to nod off yourself, but you don’t much feel like laying down after all that time spent laying in a bed. Besides, you’re probably going to be in a lot more beds now that you’ll be getting visits again.

The bitter intrusion of this thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach. Yosuke’s use of you was jarring enough after all the abuse, even for as good as the acts themselves felt. You fear what might await you in future visits. If it isn’t painful, it’ll be humiliating and awkward as fuck. Maybe Jonathan and Nathaniel’s catered visits can help alleviate the discomfort the others’ bring, even if their methods are still really weird for you, and even if they don’t always play the kindest of characters. At the very least, they talk to you normally after fucking you.

Remembering Nathaniel leaves you wondering again about the twins and their plights as of late. You should talk to Two when you have the chance tomorrow, if he shows up. Maybe you should also try talking to Three more. If not directly about what she’s feeling, then perhaps more as a friend so that she feels more comfortable opening up about that. If anything, Five tends to be the one coddling her more often. She’s always been pretty motherly at times, a thought that leaves you sad when you realize just how much she has to put up from Milos. She’s pushing through all this despite the sickness being drugged brings and all her stress from her doctor’s lack of proper care. Hopefully Gale makes good on their statements about Five. You won’t forgive them if they ever stop taking care of her or Six. But you doubt they will.

Upon thinking about the doctors, you start to wonder just how the hell Cyrus managed to keep up with Mom in his state. She’s a sexually demanding woman. He probably felt worthless having to succumb to her while still grieving over you and everyone before you. Maybe Yosuke felt the same way, but you hardly give a single shit about what that man feels. You don’t even want to think about him now.

But, naturally, you’ll have to endure him soon. You aren’t sure quite how long you’ve been here talking with everyone, but the days aren’t nearly as long as you wish they were when you’re here—time tends to pass quickly when you’re enjoying yourself, or are in the middle of something you actually care about. You don’t doubt that you’ll be going back soon, and you know that when you do, Yosuke is definitely going to bring up your hair. But you hardly care what he thinks about it. It’s your hair, not his. Violet’s right to think that way too.

Though you once would scorn having nothing to do for such a long time, being here in a calm quiet with Cyrus now is comfortable. You’ve spent a long time learning to lay there and be quiet, and so it’s not so hard now to simply sit there, watching over the young man while you think on everything and take it in.

All things considered, today was nice. You suppose you’re no fan of all the bitter things you’ve learned or the angry and sad emotions that swept over you today, but that aside, you’re happy to be back with those you love. You won’t ever let go of them.

Your eyes wander over to Cyrus’ sleeping face, and you smile when you see how peaceful he looks compared to earlier. He’s hardly stirring now, nor does he look particularly miserable. You’re glad. Perhaps he found peace in his dream, with you.

After a long while of running over the conversations from today, you’re suddenly shaken by the sound of the nightly chime from the intercom going off. Luckily, nobody got called for a visit today, but you guessed they might not anyway since today was so important for you. Gale would have wanted to see it all.

You glance up at the ceiling, strangely with focus, not scorn.

I hope you’re satisfied, you think to yourself. At this point, you aren’t sure if this is toward Gale, or the two men lording over this operation. It bugs you how easily you can picture The Overseer taking a drag from his cigarette as he watches you with stern disapproval, or Lucius sitting in his chair, chuckling amusedly to himself at the feed of you looking up at him. What horrible men he and his superior both are.

Putting this aside, you gently shake Cyrus from his slumber. He stirs a little, but doesn’t open his eyes. This prompts you to lean down and whisper in his ear.

“The day’s over, Cyrus,” you tell him. “We have to go.”

For good measure, you give his cheek a quick peck, and it’s this that summons him fully. Cyrus’ eyes slowly open, and when he turns his head your way, he looks a tinge bewildered.

“You’re still here…?”

You try to smile. “I said I would be. Did you see her again?”

“I did.” Judging by the way his voice mumbles a bit, Cyrus is a tinge hesitant to admit it.

“And what did she say?”

Cyrus raises a brow. “That’s between me and her.”

After you playfully nudge his shoulder in response, Cyrus shifts himself slowly up and leans back against the wall, his head tilted up while he tiredly tries to recover from his slumber.

“Ten,” he speaks up. “Thank you. I know I shouldn’t rely too hard on you, but it means a lot that you put up with me when I’m like this. I owe you for that. I can’t promise you I’ll be okay for a while, but maybe one day I’ll be able to say it more confidently and mean it. I’m really sorry if you think that I’ve lied to you all those times I’ve said it.”

“You were lying to yourself more than anyone,” you correct him. “I don’t care about you lying to me. Well—no, I mean I care a little.”

Cyrus gives a half-hearted chuckle. “I know. Anyway, you go on ahead. I’ll wait.”

Though you worry about leaving him alone, you suppose you’ll follow this urging and go on. Better Yosuke not see him coming out with you following later. After standing yourself back up, you give Cyrus a kind wave, leaving him again with a brief “Goodnight.”

The single word causes Cyrus to freeze a bit, but he says nothing and tries to accept your sendoff. You don’t realize right away why he reacted like this, but say nothing of it when you do. Maybe it wasn’t the best of ways to say goodbye. Not this time.

With nothing more to really say between the two of you, you leave Cyrus be and head out into the hall. Unfortunately, your doctor is there waiting, his shoulder leaning against the wall by the office while Mom sweet-talks him from just outside the door. When she catches your doctor’s olive eyes locking onto you, she turns around toward the open gate and smiles livelily.

“My, you sure take your time, don’t you, princess?” She comments with an abundance of disgusting cheer. “Silly girl, keeping your doctor waiting like that!”

Despite the tender reunions you’ve had today, your mood sours the moment she opens her mouth. You return to how you usually are around the doctors and stay quiet and reserved, hardly desirous to stir anything up by doing anything else if you can help it.

When you approach the pair, Yosuke immediately looks down at you with a straight face and reaches a hand over to run his fingers curiously through your hair.

“You’ve trimmed it?”

You figured he’d pick up on it immediately, but you won’t apologize. All you attempt to do is explain it in the hopes that, if he is at all upset by the change, he doesn’t do anything rash because of a simple disapproval.

“Another Number did it. Someone new. He asked, and I let him.”

Yosuke does not wholly drop his concerns over your hair, but does raise a brow at the comment about another Number.

“New?” He then turns his attention to Mom. “You never told me about that.”

“Oops! Didn’t I?” She cheekily responds. “Well, he’s Monica’s. A delicate little thing. He’s kind of cute, you know. He makes such darling little moans. And he was quite easy to break in. But I hardly felt the need to let you know. I was sure you weren’t going to be interested anyway.”

“I presume he’s Eleven?”

“I suppose so. Our little overseer hardly bothered to tell us fully what his number was,” Mom answers casually. “Now that Ten’s back, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Hm,” Yosuke briefly hums as his eyes again shift focus on you. “Was he kind to you, Ten?”

“Yes,” Is your brief response, your gaze affixed elsewhere than your doctor’s studying face. His hand slides to your chin, which he nestles delicately between his thumb and index finger.

“Good.” He seems pleased. “But don’t make such executive decisions on your own, and don’t let other young men decide for you either. I suppose the light trimming was warranted, but I could have easily done it myself. You should let me decide those things.”

“Oh now, leave the kids alone,” Mom gives a playful scoff, her lips bared back to reveal a toothy grin. “I’m sure it was a good way for these two to break the ice. Besides, you’re no hairstylist yourself.”

“I don’t recall asking you that.” Your doctor’s face, from what little of it you can glimpse without looking his way directly, is completely unmoved. However, his words resonate with a tinge of annoyance.

Upon glimpsing Mom’s cheeky grin, you remain worried that she’ll bring up where you’ve been, and with who. Yosuke will no doubt know that you tried to get close with someone today, so of course you can’t much help his reaction to that. But for Mom to tell him directly about what she witnessed and expected you to do would only stir up your doctor further. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect her to do just to stir things up and see Yosuke bothered. She relishes in his reactions the way he does yours.

But, luckily, she says nothing. Even when Yosuke bitterly makes off from the conversation and says his goodbyes, she only watches the both of you, trailing your exit with her playful green gaze.

The moment you’ve rounded the corner and out of her sight, Yosuke reaches a hand out to your shoulder and halts your progress forward. Confused, you turn his way.

“Ten, come here,” your doctor speaks up lowly. His expression is even-natured, and you aren’t much glimpsing any hints of anger now that he’s left Mom behind. But, even with that, you remain wary and on your toes, even when you follow his order and step closer his way. Without a word, your doctor smiles and leans forward to scoop you up in his arms as he always has. You wager he didn’t want to do this in front of Mom knowing it would rile her up.

Still confused, you ask, “Why are you carrying me?”

Yosuke ignores this for now and simply counters with a question of his own while he walks forward. “Did you enjoy your day, darling?”

This brushing off of your question only leaves you pouting, but by now you expect this kind of thing from your doctor. All you do is cooperate.

“Fine,” you mutter. “I had a good day.”

“Did you get to see everyone, or only a few?”

“Everyone.”

Yosuke smiles to himself. “I’m glad. I trust things are going well over there?”

“Mostly.” You keep these answers brief with reason. “Do you really care?”

“Of course, my pet. Tell me anything you like if you feel the need.”

You refuse. He just wants you to make it blatantly obvious who you got close to, but it shouldn’t be that hard for him to figure it out. He’s teasing you at this point.

“Did Micah ask for me?” You change the subject rather promptly. Yosuke frowns a bit, but does not stop walking.

“Yes. You’ll be seeing him tomorrow morning. Are you ready?”

“I have to get used to visits again anyway, I guess. I just wish it were with someone nicer first.”

Yosuke chuckles. “Nicer? You’ll use that word willingly after all that hateful talk of us?”

“You know what I mean. There are doctors here who don’t always treat me like garbage or make me feel powerless beyond just in the bedroom.”

“Am I not one of them?”

The question makes your heart skip a beat. Won’t he be insulted if you say no? Will it anger him?

But if you say yes, you’d only be lying. The man has you in his arms—he can feel your pulse. He’ll know without looking that you’re lying, and that would probably upset him just as much. What a loaded question.

When you take too long to parse what to say, Yosuke can’t help but tease you.

“Can’t decide? How cruel. I take good care of my darling, you know.”

Finally, he reaches your room and inputs his code. You aren’t able to glimpse it with your head facing away from the pad, something you suppose Yosuke orchestrated and has always orchestrated on purpose so that you don’t get to see.

When you’re ferried in and the door shuts, Yosuke gently lays you on your bed, the comforter of which has already been preemptively peeled back to reveal your pinkish sheets. Rather than leave you alone after tucking your body beneath the comforter which he’s pulled back over you, Yosuke hovers over your face and looks at it warmly, with a smile. His proximity leaves you nervous, but you stay quiet and look away.

“I presume you made a show of reuniting with your much closer companions,” he comments, his low tone and his casual expression contrasting one another.

You blush when he leans in and pecks at your nape. “Tell me the truth, now.”

“If you’ve already figured as much, why should I have to say it?” You question, your fingers curling around the sheets by your sides as Yosuke’s lips trail along your neck.

“I want you to be honest.”

“Even when you don’t like the answer?”

Yosuke pauses and gives a smirk. “I do have my reservations, but I think I’ll be helping myself attune to your tendencies to stray from me.”

You continue to nervously clutch at the sheet and up toward the ceiling in a mixture of focus and unease all the same. You don’t like when your doctor gets coy like this. You especially don’t like when he gets coy and starts to touch you.

Yosuke’s hand cups your cheek as he works your neck on the other side, his lips gently sucking and pecking at the flesh while your face grows tomato red beneath him. After a series of slow kisses, your doctor withdraws from your flesh and hovers again over your face, relishing in your flustered reaction. His hand drops from your cheek and graces your chin, his thumb playfully rubbing at your bottom lip while he watches you breathe slowly and attempt to avoid looking his way.

“Dear, I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve decided to change a few things now that you’re back.”

“What things?” You demand. Yosuke chuckles.

“I have a few rules I want to set from now on. I concluded that perhaps a bit of casual order would help guide you in the right direction.”

“Toward you.”

“You say it so bitterly, pet. They’re not horrible rules, just small little things I want to enforce. It’s no trouble for someone like you. You’ve come to expect a lot of the things I do anyway.”

You glower. “That doesn’t mean it’s normal.”

Yosuke firmly presses his thumb over both your lips now, urging you to quiet down.

“Firstly,” he begins without hesitation .”I will carry my pet everywhere from now on. If you behave well enough, I will give you the privilege of walking.”

Your eyes slowly widen in disbelief. This is absurd.

“If I have to bring you a meal in this or any other room, you will let me feed you myself. No questions. I’d like to be the one to take care of you. And, speaking of which, I’ll be helming all your usual grooming beyond what I already do when you’re not awake. All your basic tasks will be taken care of by me.”

You try to protest, but Yosuke’s grip on you only grows more firm, and you hesitantly bite your tongue in want of not upsetting him.

“If you misbehave, I will be rough with you, Ten,” your doctor persists. He then stops gripping so tightly to your chin and instead starts to sweetly trail the back of his hand along your cheek. “But if you act like a good girl, I will give you those little freedoms as a reward. Do you understand?”

You remain too in shock to really answer him. This is demeaning. He already babies you enough, now he’s making his desire to leave you helpless and reliant on him hardly optional.

“One last thing—if you do upset me, I will refer to you as Rose for a while until I think you’ve earned your preferred name back. Being Ten is a privilege from now on. I will take it away as punishment.”

“That’s not f-“

“Fair?” you’re interrupted, your doctor giving a coy smirk as he watches the anger and unease in your eyes. “You’re welcome to struggle and fight and talk back if you like, pet, so long as you don’t bring up what I don’t like to hear. You should know well by now what those things are. I won’t punish you for wanting to pursue the others because it seems I can’t control that. Not while I work here. But I can control you when you’re here with me. You won’t be getting away from me, nor will you stop anything I want to do to you. If you cooperate, I will treat you preciously. I will tease and touch you gently, like my little princess. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Still stunned, you say nothing as Yosuke leans into your ear.

“I’ll make my precious pet come over and over again if she’s good. So, Ten, do be my good girl for me. It’s in your best interest to behave, but I do love you, and I want to make you happy all the same. I want to make you feel good, to hold you and make you feel warm and loved. It’s the sort of thing I know you like.”

Not from you, you repeat over in your head.

“But if you disobey, I have to be firm. You understand, darling,” Yosuke reminds you further, following his words with yet another plump kiss on your cheek. You continue to stay still, left feeling as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of you at being told all these horrible rules.

“I should take better care of you so as not to lose you again, of course. Even if that means I must lay down some rules. I suppose while we still have the time together, I should work on being there for you as much as I can. I’d like to make up for lost time, even in small ways.”

He knows you won’t refuse it now. He’s picked up quickly on the fact that you haven’t been fighting quite as much against his wishes like you used to, if while still hating them utterly. He’s enjoying this.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You question finally, your voice a bit shaky. “I don’t want this!”

“You’ll be treasured and treated well if you behave, like I said,” Yosuke answers plainly. “Truly, nothing changes other than those little things that I expect of you. You still get to be a big girl on your own out there, but here, I’ll take care of everything. You said yourself you have to rely on me for at least that.”

“Is this because you’re jealous?” You shoot back. “Do you think this is going to make me love you?”

“Perhaps that ship has sailed, but I have said there are many ways for me to make you mine,” Yosuke retorts without hesitation. He smiles and teases the underside of your chin with two of his fingers. “A little leash is one of them. But as it is, this is hardly unfair. You’re simply throwing a little tantrum over being told that you can’t have your way all the time.

“Do take these terms to heart, because I intend to be diligent in enforcing them. If I have to shame my pet, I will. If I have to hurt her, I will. I have that right. Besides, you and I don’t see each other all the time, as little as I like that fact. You already get little freedoms when I’m not around. What’s a few moments with your doctor by comparison? It makes no difference.”

You huff and look away, but say nothing more. Arguing will do little now, but you have every right to be upset. Yosuke’s taking away the few things you look forward to doing—little things that make you feel like you can handle yourself in a place like this. How monstrous of him.

“Now, don’t pout like that, my dear,” Yosuke chuckles as he tenderly teases your flesh. “It’ll be easy to accustom yourself to these expectations. But for now, do be a good girl for me and stop being so fussy. I’d like to kiss my darling goodnight before heading home.”

Your distraught reaction to your doctor is only briefly interrupted by the mention of a home. He’s never brought it up before.

“Home?” You repeat. “You have one?”

“Yes,” you’re assured gently. “Have you forgotten that I mentioned bringing your mother home a few times? Now, I don’t often go there because of my work. If I’m exceptionally busy, I sleep in my office or down here. But I do go home now and then. I do wish I could bring you there. My bed’s much nicer than this one. Spacious, too.”

How expected. He spends his time here more often? Where have you heard that one before?

“Is lavishness all you care for?” You bitterly remark. “You’re all rich because of this place, aren’t you? I remember Nathaniel expressing his want for expensive wine, and I don’t doubt the lighters I’ve seen have been expensive on their own.”

“Well, I came from a comfortable family, but yes, we do get paid well for this kind of work. Perhaps the handsome amount is more of a bribe to stay here. Nobody in their right mind would refuse it.”

Yosuke chuckles at your bitter reaction and leans in to kiss your lips this time, lingering a moment with his eyes closed and relishing in your light whimper of protest. When he pulls away, your doctor again smiles.

“You’d be comfortable living with me, you know. I could afford to give you luxurious meals and lavish clothes. I could buy you pretty jewels, flowers, or perfume if you like.”

“I don’t care about that kind of thing,” you remain firm. “I don’t want it if it comes from someone like you.”

Yosuke does not budge. In fact, somehow he seems rather amused, laughing to himself about something.

“But you do want such things in themselves. You’ve enjoyed the pretty dresses you’ve been allowed to wear here. You like the special meals you’ve been given. You are a bit predictable that way.”

Not allowing you to protest further, Yosuke continues to attach his lips to yours. Any attempt to speak back at him when he pulls away briefly is met with another crashing of his mouth against yours. And when you try to pull your arms out from under the comforter, Yosuke presses his hands against the top of it to stop you.

Only when you stop fighting him does he finally pull away from you wholly, his olive eyes delighted as they observe you from behind the thick frames of his glasses. Strands of his hair have fallen before him as he hovers atop your face. You can’t stand the sight of it, but say nothing and only watch your doctor’s smug profile with quiet scorn.

“Get some sleep, dear,” you’re gently urged. “If Micah or anyone else in the future does hurt you, I’ll be sure to help how I can.”

“I’ve dealt with everyone’s weird interests before. I’ll live. I’ll just hate it in the moment.”

Yosuke strangely does not laugh this time. He returns to his usual straight face and looks you over while giving one last backhanded petting of your cheek. Once he’s stopped bothering to pester you, he simply sends you off with another crooning goodnight and leaves you alone.

In your dread of seeing Micah again, you don’t really want to fall asleep. Doing so would mean waking up tied up and gagged or dressed in strange clothes like you have been. You refuse to sleep right away despite the exhaustion you’ve felt since letting copious tears fall today in both your excitement at seeing everyone again, and your worry over Cyrus.

You hope to god he’ll be okay in time. The others seemed to believe him at face value when he made promises of being alright. It’s not like anyone can blame them—he shuts out a lot of the awful and keeps it out of everyone’s sights, so it’s sometimes hard to see it clearly. The only one who seemed to really understand his state more was Violet. She knew better because of how much she’d gotten close to Cyrus, and to you.

Although Cyrus snapped out of the initial miserable mood he was in, you’re sure he doesn’t totally know how to take you being back. Even for as easy as it was for him to interact with you once he realized there was a chance that you were real. It breaks your heart to know he questioned it at all. Seeing him so messed up was painful, but you forced yourself to care for him because you knew he needed it. Not just in general, but from you.

Would he have died if you did too?

The thought only makes your heart sink further, even causes your throat to lump up and your eyes to become a bit wet. How horrible a thought.

Cyrus shouldn’t want to live just for you, though, or anyone else he feels an attachment to or the need to be present for. You won’t let him think that way anymore, even if you have to be as pushy as Lav about that kind of thing. It’s not really your style, but you aren’t sure what else to do. Of course, you’re happy to know that Lav and Eight both are probably willing to help out too. Even the reserved Eight has a love of his friend that he won’t fully admit to, but that he’s shown clearly through his words and actions. You’re grateful to know this side of him, and to see everyone collaborate so much with one another, for one another.

Eventually, letting your mind run leaves you too tired to keep your eyes open. You aren’t sure if you’re being drugged again for the first time in a long time, but you hardly care now. Sleep feels nice despite the dread of tomorrow. Though, you remind yourself that visits are only temporary.

You’ll push through.

Chapter 73: Visit Twenty Nine - Hang

Your head hangs heavily back as if pulled by gravity, and this is the first sensation you’re aware of the moment consciousness sweeps over you. Despite how weighted it feels, you don’t suppose it’d strain your neck too hard if you were to try holding your head up for a little bit at a time. Though, hanging back is strangely comfortable right now. What isn’t, however, is the sudden inability to move that you notice next.

When you try to shift groggily around, your limbs, chest, and lower body all get firmly pressed against by something ropey and thick. It’s difficult to parse what’s going on with your body in such a tired state, but you have a pretty good idea that, in general, you’ve been bound.

Your head feels just as foggy as you remember it being when drugged. With everything that’s been going on, you aren’t immediately sure when the last time you were anesthetized was. Perhaps it was your last terrifying brush with The Overseer. Though, in this moment, he is the last thing you want to focus on. You’d really rather not get yourself wired up with even more discomfort.

Right now, you feel gaps in your body that aren’t tied in rope—you can fathom based on the cool of the air on your bare flesh, and by the hanging of your feet as your knees remain bent that you’re not on solid ground. You’re hanging by rope, and it’s the familiar sensation of these thick, sturdy ropes spreading your thighs wide apart that only brings you out of the grogginess.

You remember this. You haven’t felt this sensation in a while, but when it hits just why you remember, your heart starts to beat a bit faster. Wearily, your eyes open, and you’re graced with the low lighting of the same room you feared you’d be in.

The cabinets around you are upside down from your perspective. Flickering your eyes to and fro only reveals a different perspective of this dungeon-esque room that you dislike. All of it has been turned upside down with your head hanging the way it is.

From beneath the tip of your nose, you catch sight of something white and a little rough in texture. Only when you do does it dawn on you that your mouth has been gagged with a thick cloth. The dry flavor of its ragged fabric against your tongue is bitter, almost.

A lump catches in your throat when your eyes meet with some familiar colored cloth crumpled atop one of the counters in the room behind you—Three distinct colors that you know are part of Micah’s usual dress. You fear that he might be waiting between your legs when you pick your head up, so you don’t dare to so suddenly.

The only other thing you can really make out without making it immediately apparent to Micah that you’ve awoken is a wheeled cart with a silver tray atop it somewhere to your right. It’s hardly a large tray, but the few items on it only leave a pit in your stomach and a buzzing series of questions about what’s going to happen in your head.

Atop the shiny tray, gleaming with the light hitting it, are only a few items: a strange and small pink silicone toy with a rounded tip, one single, black latex glove, and a closed butterfly knife. The sight of these items leaves you trembling.

Subtly attempting to wriggle in your bonds again now that you’re more aware, you also realize that your wrists have been bound back, pointed toward the floor. Each forearm is tied graciously together with the thick black rope, and the only support there seems to be for your body as it hangs mid-air stems from the ropes rounding and sliding between your bare breasts and upper body, the ropes hugging your lower body, and the ropes tightly gripping at your thighs.

This entire ensemble is unnerving, but what’s even worse is that the tightness around your thighs and the caressing of the ropes around your breasts feels snug and titillating. You dislike admitting it to yourself, but each tiny wriggle only makes the sensations more apparent, and it leaves you blushing.

Your heart jumps a bit at the sudden loud sound of a cabinet shutting—Micah is definitely somewhere ahead of you. When you attempt to subtly pick up your head to peek, the nervous idea that sprouted in your mind leaves you half-expecting to see Yosuke instead, even knowing that it isn’t going to be him. The horrible impression you felt the day he used your drugged body only continues to run deep. Whether it’s lucky or unlucky that your expectations are shattered by the sight of a shirtless Micah, you aren’t sure. In your mind, he’s hardly any better: A mere different kind of awful.

Micah’s familiar red hair is the first thing your eyes really focus on, though as you trail downward, you’re hardly pleased. Fairly well built as he may be, the sight of his bare back and blackly clothed lower body only leaves you worried. He’s turned away from you and toward the cabinet you heard just a moment ago, leaving only a bit of time for you to really examine his frame. His legs are wrapped tightly in what you think might be some kind of leather or latex, though you can’t tell since it isn’t quite as shiny as some latex you’ve seen. It’s some low-cut pair of pants that hugs low at his waist and cuts off above the ankles. It’s so snug against Micah’s body that you can practically see the definition of muscle in his legs from where you are.

Apparently, you’ve been staring far too long. You’re suddenly taken aback when the man turns his head and fixates his dark eye toward you. As ever, he gives a coy smirk the moment he sees you, pleased that you’re awake enough for him to start toying with you.

Micah makes his way over to you, opting to stand between your hanging, helpless body, and the tray he’s arranged. His eyes trail along your frame, eyeing it closely. Once he’s given you an assessment, he cocks a brow up and says but one thing:

“You look like shit.”

Micah’s hand trails to the tray as he says this, his fingers wrapping around his familiar knife. He doesn’t open it just yet, but does bump it up and down casually in his palm while he watches you.

“I was surprised to see you,” he says. “I figured I might as well get a visit out of the way while I was at it. I’m sure your doctor didn’t waste a damn second filling your little hole since he was being such a distant shitwad without his doll around, but I figured I’d try to be the first one other than him to toy with you before everyone else got wind of you being back. Think of it as a compliment. People do seem to like fucking you.”

He scoffs in laughter. “Probably because you’re so fucking easy.”

You scowl at the insult. Leave it to this asshole to make a mockery of you so casually. You find him no better than Lilah, or even Sven.

Micah glimpses your pouting face and raises a pierced, red brow. With one swift motion, he coolly whips open his knife, the sight of Its emerging blade leaving a nervous pit in your stomach. Your expression morphs into one of unease the moment you hear the familiar metallic clacking.

“You scared or something?” Micah scoffs. “Or is that pathetic look on your face just a permanent part of you now? I figured a little time chained up like a prisoner would have gotten rid of that. Guess you forgot all about what I told you.”

Micah chuckles devilishly as he brings the tip blade to your throat. The balling of your fists and the wild look in your eye as they watch his hand fearfully only entices the man. He keeps his own gaze locked onto your body as he slowly trails his blade along it.

‘Mommy’ told me all about what happened,” he remarks casually. “Can’t believe my boss really gave enough of a fuck to keep his own little slave. He’s not the type to do that for the sake of getting his rocks off, nor does he usually care about anyone enough to bother having them around that long. Something must have really got to him, then.”

Micah tips his head a bit to the side curiously. “I wager Yosuke pissed him off enough for him to do it, knowing that the boss likes custom-made punishments sometimes. Makes it really hard to beat on those of us who don’t give a shit. But I guess if I’m right, that also means Yosuke can’t call quite as many shots as he wants. Not for a while.”

You dislike how easily he’s reading the situation. Either it’s too easy to piece together, or Micah’s just not stupid.

Micah’s knife blade continues to drag across the flesh at your stomach and pauses right above your bellybutton. Once there, he presses the tip down enough to sink a bit into your flesh, the sensation causing you let out an instinctive, mild whimper.

“Don’t like it?” Micah teases with a babyish voice. “Or are you just pretending you don’t?”

He continues his dragging, going all the way down to your inner thighs. Once he reaches the right spot, he turns his knife and circles your right inner thigh playfully, quite close to the crotch. The cold metal rubbing smoothly along the sensitive flesh there causes your leg to twitch. Such a titillating sensation leaves another whimper in your throat, making Micah laugh in amusement.

“Geez, even this gets you all riled up?” He criticizes you. “I guess being deprived of good dick for that long can drive any cock-hungry whore crazy.”

How fucking dare he. Micah has no fucking idea what you went through. A fire burns in your chest with every biting word, despite your bodily responses to your visitor’s teasing touches.

Micah’s knife is then promptly retracted with a swift swipe upward, the sound of metal flicking along your flesh more prominent with this final gesture. You recoil as best as you can despite your bonds, mistakenly believing that he’s cut you. When your eyes jerk down to examine your thigh, it’s apparent that you were wrong. Your skin is a little red, but fine otherwise.

“Relax, honey,” Micah tells you with a frown, bringing the blade of his knife to your chin and tipping it back. “I’m not exactly a monster, you know. You look like a twig and you probably got your ass handed to you all different ways where you were.”

His tone turns babyish again, as if to mock you. “I’ll play nice this time. At least until you give me a reason not to. And knowing how you get, you just might.”

You scowl and struggle against your bonds in annoyance. Micah takes his knife away and lifts a finger up from his free hand, promptly wagging it in disapproval.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Don’t struggle, girl. Even though this is a basic position for a basic fuck like you, it’s still very easy to get hurt like this. So don’t be fucking dumb.”

By now, your neck has started to feel strained from keeping your head up. With a frustrated huff from your nostrils, you lay it back down and shut your eyes tight, bothered by this treatment again. It’s been some time since you’ve had to endure it. Perhaps it pales in comparison to the hell you spent in The Overseer’s room, but at least the man left you alone. Micah and everyone else merely peck at you like buzzards, waiting to spread you open and use you like a piece of meat.

Micah snaps his fingers before your face and growls a bit. “Hey, princess. Don’t close those pretty little eyes. You think I have you like this to relax? You think this is some kind of a fucking spa?”

Your eyelids slightly lift up, and you look up at Micah, who’s begun to hover over your head, with a frustrated squint. The light from the ceiling Is spilling around the flesh of his shoulders, creating a bit of a subtle glow.

“You’re gonna work first before I consider letting you feel good,” he warns you, his free hand gripping the underside of your gag while the other continues to wrap around the handle of his knife. “I can tell by the way you’re reacting that you still remember every little thing about me that you don’t want to. So you know what I like. Don’t act all surprised or angry when you know exactly what to expect.”

As he lifts his knife up to your gag, Micah smirks. “Maybe you even look forward to it like the little slut you are. I see your thighs trembling.”

Micah worms his blade under the cloth, the steel pressing against your flesh as he wriggles it through. You merely let out a whimpered “no” in protest to his crude supposition, but can do nothing more.

“’No’?” he mocks you. “I don’t believe you. You like to be tied up, don’t you?”

When you again give a muffled word of protest, Micah laughs and shakes your head back and forth using the handle of his knife, since it’s still caught between you and the cloth.

“Yes you do,” he teases. “You’re a regular little slut. You’ll have a lot more fun if you just own it. I sure did.”

I’m not you, you refuse to listen to Micah’s words. But when his hand leaves the back of your head and two of his fingers glide teasingly along your chest and down to your thighs, you instinctively try to close your legs. This endeavor is met with another failure, causing Micah to grin like some know-it-all asshole, as if he knew what you were thinking and merely wanted to prove you wrong. Unfortunately, you’ve given him the reaction he sought.

“Don’t get all excited, now. I’m not gonna treat you just yet, princess,” he says bluntly, his hands retracting from your flesh. “You know how this works by now—you get yours when I get mine.”

He again moves the knife that’s beneath your gag, reminding you again that it’s there. Rather than cut the fabric, he retracts his blade and instead puts it between his teeth so that he can hold the thing and use both hands to undo the cloth knot at the back of your head. When he finishes, he slips the ragged cloth away and leaves it on the tray by him, his lips curved in a smirk.

“Don’t get comfortable with the freedom,” he says after again taking the knife’s base again in his hand and pulling the thing from between his teeth. “I’m only letting you loose so I can get those lips wrapped around my cock. I’m gonna shove that rag right back in your pretty little whore mouth right after.”

When you merely lay back and suck in breaths, Micah brings his knife close to your face, pressing it against your cheek while watching your bothered reaction.

You’re certain he’s baiting you, but you can’t take him sticking that thing in your face when you’re already freaked out, embarrassed, and, most of all, angry. Muttering, you muster a few bitter words.

“Get that trash away from me.”

Micah huffs a breath through his nostrils and drops his blade down to his side. Replacing it is a backhand that comes whacking down and across your cheek. Your head turns with the hit, but immediately after the sting of it, Micah’s hand grips your jaw tightly and tips your head forcefully toward him so that you are facing the man directly as his face hovers high above you. You thought he was expecting you to talk back, but judging by the flicker of fire behind Micah’s dark eyes, you think you’ve somehow struck a nerve. You have no idea why. Is he that attached to his stupid knife? Or did you just misread his intentions?

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Micah growls, bringing his face closer to yours. His tight grip on the underside of your jaw, coupled with his genuine upset, leave you trembling. “You talk back so much and so readily when I let you free that I’m convinced you like being shit-talked and abused.”

“And you let me free so much that I’m convinced you like when girls talk back!” you don’t refrain from standing your ground despite the pounding of your heart. For as frightened as you are of being hurt, you can’t help but let out your frustrations.

It feels good to bark back again.

Although he’d been angry just a moment ago, Micah’s expression morphs back into its coyer nature, his lips again curving subtly into a cheeky smirk.

“You’re being a little brat even knowing I could hurt you?” He remarks almost as if pleased. “You’re actually choosing that despite your babyish shivering? Even though I figured as much, I’m still a bit shocked. I figured you’d have been beat into submission where you were.”

He squeezes the sides of your jaw harder and lets out a subtle laugh.

“You really are a whore who likes being punished. You act all afraid, but then you can’t help being a little cunt sometimes anyway, can you?”

He leans in more. “Your face is red as fuck, honey. You can’t deny that it gets you pretty wet to have a big strong man come in and take charge of you like this. You like the feeling of fear and helplessness. Or else you’re getting your wires crossed because you’re always forced to come when you’re scared.”

“You won’t kill me yourself,” you spit back in an attempt at explaining yourself, attempting to put aside the embarrassing assumption Micah’s made of you. “You can’t. You have to have him do it, don’t you? So maybe I don’t see a reason to-”

In the midst of speaking your piece, Micah stops smirking and again brings his knife to your right cheek. He watches your frustrated face with a calm eye, and is quick to interrupt you mid-sentence. “You some kind of a detective now?”

Without awaiting an answer, he slices against your cheek with one swift swipe upward, making you groan and grit your teeth in agony. Though he likely didn’t go too deep, you feel as if Micah’s left a gaping wound. It’s been some time since you got cut, but you don’t suppose you’ve ever felt this particular pain before in your face.

You wriggle around desperately in your restraints in response to the pain for the initial wave of it. Not only did Micah cut you, but he did so right on the reddened cheek he slapped hard. The skin was already tender, had already stung. The slicing of your flesh only makes it worse.

Micah watches your pained reaction curiously.

“Did you expect me not to?” He questions. “You’re so stupid that I almost feel sorry for you. I said I would play nice unless you gave me a reason not to, so don’t give me even more reasons not to if you value that pretty skin of yours.”

He then takes advantage of your open mouth when you try to talk again, promptly sticking his blade into it. The steel tips against your teeth, the discomforting sensation causing you to move your head move backward in response.

Once Micah has you where he wants you, he then presses the blade flat against your tongue. You taste not only the cold steel, but the bitter flavor of your own blood as well. By now, your injury is warm and hot, pulsing and stinging all at once. You can feel a bit of blood seeping out from the wound as the cold air hits the drops on your cheek.

“I may not have a gun, but knives are still lethal. Don’t forget that I’m still in charge right now and that I don’t have to hold back quite as much,” Micah asserts. “I don’t have to hide where I cut you or be all that soft if I don’t want to be. I can do damage if I want, even if it isn’t deadly.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly and tuts. “You never really seem to learn your lesson, do you, little girl? Don’t wanna get hurt? Don’t be a brat.”

He then gives a cheeky grin that makes you want to punch him. “Or do. I’m still gonna fuck your bratty little mouth and cunt either way. I’m sure you’ll like that.”

He pushes your head fully back so that it hangs down again, the blade leaving your mouth with the motion. Though your heart is pounding now, you refuse to break down. The stinging pain in your cheek is relentless, but you hold on and try to push through it.

Breathing deeply only causes the ropes around your torso and breasts to tighten as they rise. Micah bound you fairly tight all things considered—there’s hardly any room to shift with. Every bit of movement you do make is met with that tense feeling around your wrists, thighs, forearms, mouth, chest, and waist. It feels like coils of a snake have been wrapped and tightly wound around every bit of your body to ensure you can’t struggle too hard. And any time you do, the grip it has on you just gets tighter and tighter. Your body melts in the snugness of these ropes, despite you yourself wanting only to be free of them.

Micah’s voice again interrupts your thoughts.

“Anyway, that cheek’s gonna hurt while your lips are wrapped around my cock, you know. If that bothers you, then you should have thought of that before you mouthed off like a little bitch. But I will give you one bit of credit—you’re not as much of a baby as I remember. You took that cut like a champ. Didn’t even cry or anything. Congrats.”

The way he says the last word sounds wholly sarcastic. You’re sure Micah could prattle on about how little your pain really means compared to others. His talking down to you only brings even more annoyance amidst all your unease.

You then hear the metal clanking of Micah’s knife as it’s set on the metal tray. “Let’s stop wasting time already, huh? I came to fuck you, not to chat.”

The next thing that grazes your vision is Micah’s lower body as he moves in front of your head. You hardly look forward to what you know is next. Your throat is just going to be a cocksleeve for this man with how restrained you are. And at this position, it’ll be far too easy for Micah to use you.

You’re too vulnerable.

Being faced with his crotch only makes a silver zipper there more apparent. What’s more disturbing is the notable bulge sticking out from behind the sleek fabric. Whether it came from your outburst or your struggling, you have no clue. You’re not sure you really even want to know.

Slowly, Micah undoes the zipper and exposes himself to you. His cock is rock hard, ready for your mouth, and already dripping with precum.

The back of Micah’s hand casually pats against your uncut cheek.

“Open up, brat,” he commands. He cups the bottom of his cock to steady it, preparing the fleshy thing to enter you. “I’ve got your warm welcome-back present right here.”

You grit your teeth. Micah’s not holding back any more than he ever did before. Even so, you don’t hesitate with the order. You slowly open your mouth wide enough for the man to shove his dick deep down your throat. He was correct that it’d hurt to do this, since the ruptured flesh in your cheek wound only stings when it shifts with the motion of your jaw parting. The discomforting pain only makes you wince a little, though you refuse to give Micah a reason to hit you with an “I told you so” by making your pained reaction too obvious. Restraining it is no easy task.

Micah’s choosing not to go slow shouldn’t have taken you by surprise, but it does. When he shoves his dick into your open mouth and deep into your throat, you nearly choke and gurgle having been so unprepared for his forceful entry.

One of his hands drops down to your hair and grips it firmly so that you don’t shake around too hard when he begins to thrust. The other, no longer cupping Micah’s phallus, hangs casually at his side, the fingers curling in his palm as he adjusts pleasurably to the snugness of your throat.

You shut your eyes to avoid having to watch the flesh of Micah’s thighs and scrotum from the angle you’re at. Heavy, successive breaths escape your nose as you try to relax your throat enough not to choke. Though, the warm scent of Micah’s musk makes it hard to avoid being aware of him and his body.

Micah hardly holds back in making sure your mouth gets filled. And he doesn’t really bother to wait for you to get used to him again before he starts to pump into you. As ever, he wholly expects you to accommodate him on your own, the greedy bastard. The only thing you can do now in your helpless, wrapped-up state is try to relax enough to take him.

The heat of his cock fills every bit of your mouth, the tender flesh of his sex rubbing wetly up against your tongue as Micah fucks your face without mercy. He grunts and growls hungrily as he reaps pleasure from using you, a bit of his hot, heavy breath managing to reach down and lick at the bare, exposed flesh of your throat.

You let out gurgled, short moans as your face is pounded in hungrily by the wily doctor. Your fists ball behind you, and your dangling feet twitch and sway with each pump of his cock into your face. The musky flavor is hardly anything you’d praise. Perhaps it’s better than your own blood, but hardly so. You want to spit out the precum that’s being lodged deeper into your throat, and you will likely want to spit out the semen spurted against your tongue later.

You hate this. You just want it to stop. Even after overcoming everything, you’re reminded of Lucius forcing you to pleasure him with your mouth repeatedly. It takes constant reminders of where you are for you to really remember just who’s fucking you. Perhaps if your eyes were open it’d be easier, but you don’t really like the angle you’re at right now.

“You’re gulping it down pretty goddamn well.” Micah’s grunts roll into a series of breathy laughs. “Either you never lost the ability to take a dick even being without it so long, or someone was taking a few joyrides on your little holes.”

Please, please don’t bring him up. Your heart begins to nervously pick up its pace. Micah couldn’t know what Lucius did either time, but he must know the man to some degree. You don’t want to be reminded of what was done to you in that place.

Luckily, nothing more is really said on the subject after this comment. It’s hardly something Micah wants to focus on anyway. He’s apparently far too distracted by how good he’s feeling using your mouth as his own personal toy. His fingers tighten against your scalp as he rides you, and his concentrated grunts grow fiercer as he yearns to force-feed you his cum.

The pain in your cheek continues to swelter with each thrust Micah gives, but you can do nothing for it now. You struggle to keep up your breathing through wet gulps and muffled, gurgled moans, and only when you manage to keep up with Micah’s pace does he finally start to let go.

His cock twitches and pulses inside your mouth and against your tongue. Micah’s breath turns deep and desperate; powerful and hungry. His growls, initially brief, extend in length and lower in tone, growing even gruffer as the man concentrates on his urge to explode inside your mouth. Soon after his initial reactions, Micah lets out a satisfied groan as he reaches the heights he sought, and you’re force-fed several gulps of his cum that spill out violently into your gullet. Micah grips both sides if your head to keep it in place, and bucks his hips against your face, slowly thrusting himself as deep into your throat as he can without fully hurting you. He keeps this position until every last drop of his juices has flowed into your body and has been swallowed up. With how much there is and how deep the man is inside of you, gulping down every drop that dribbles out of tip is hardly a choice.

Micah gives one last long breath before he slowly pulls his wet dick out of your face, his throat releasing a low, playful chuckle the moment Micah sees you attempt to catch your breath amidst the dripping remnants of saliva and semen that rolls from your lower lip and tongue to your upper lip and cheek. Luckily, none of it hits the cut Micah gave, but you’re too taken by the release of your head and mouth to care.

“You look good like that, you little cock-hungry slut,” Micah chuckles. “You wanna mouth off again? I wouldn’t mind another ride.”

You scowl up at the man, squinting at him as your eyes again open. Before you have a chance to answer, Micah moves away toward the tray and recollects the rag. He wraps it around you, stuffing a wad of it into your mouth before tying it tightly back up behind your head. Not only do you have the flavor of the bitter fabric, but now remnants of Micah’s load is mixed into the taste. Your desire to spit only grows.

“I sure hope you didn’t talk back around my boss,” Micah continues to tease you. He roughly grabs your breast just to feel it up and get a whimpering reaction out of you, but doesn’t linger on your flesh long before turning his attention back to his tray of toys. “But I guess if you haven’t been shot to death or rendered braindead by now, that means you learned a lesson or two.”

He cocks his head. “What did he do? Beat you? Shoot you? I bet he wouldn’t have fucked you given the kind of guy he is, but maybe you might have liked that.”

He laughs giddily as your head picks up to nervously watch what he’s doing. Micah plucks the latex glove from the tray and places it on one hand, then flexes his palm and fingers to assure the fit is good.

“You like scary men tying you up, after all,” Micah continues to tease at you, his smirk still present. “Being chained up must have been exciting for you. Restraints make you pretty horny, don’t they? In fact, if I go right down to your little pussy right now, I bet you know what I’ll find.”

Micah reaches his gloved hand out to tease his fingers at your nape and beneath your chin. The rubbery, latex covering glides smoothly along the flesh. You turn your head and let a moan slip out at the sensation of Micah’s gloved hand and fingers teasing you in such a sensitive area. This reaction only makes him give a casual half-scoff, moreso amused than disgusted.

“God damn. At least try not to make it so obvious.”

The sleek texture of his fingers continue to run along your bare flesh, teasing at every inch of you on the way down. When he starts with your tits, he rubs at the flesh of them—any bit that isn’t covered in rope, anyway. When Micah brings his fingers to your nipples, he watches your flustered face while his pads make darling little circles over the sensitive things. He even pinches and playfully plucks a bit at each one, the sharp feeling making you whine.

Micah hardly lingers long atop your chest long, luckily. After garnering such amusing noises from you, he soon starts to trail his latexed fingers down your stomach, rubbing playfully at every bit of your skin that he can. It’s all too titillating a sensation for your body to avoid reacting. Your cheeks turn completely red, and your head hangs back at the feeling of being touched this way. Though you try not to moan, one or two do sneak past your lips.

“Well what do you know?” Micah remains curious and smug as he slowly walks down beside your lower body. His fingers rub and graze at your inner thighs, then move to your vulva, the innermost parts of which are now slick and wet. Micah’s fingers poke and prod at your folds, while the wily doctor closely examines them. Your knees again try to press together, but you can’t move.

Micah huffs a bit of laughter from his nose. “You really are a weird girl. You like punishments and won’t admit it, but you also like to be treated like a little princess, huh? Your switch flips one way or the other so goddamn often. And I’m sure your doctor coddles you to make up for some of us refusing to. He does shit like this, right?”

His gloved fingers tease at your clit in slow circles, the sensation making you squirm in your bonds instinctively. Something about the sleek texture of the glove teasing you there is driving you insane. A muffled moan slips from your lips. You don’t want to react, but you can’t help it.

“Mm? You like that?” Micah pecks at you with another one of his babyish, teasing voices. “Of course you do. Now , I’m still mad at you for being bratty, but I’ll be nice and let you come today to make up for all that lost time, only as long as I get to come too. Now that I have you shut the fuck up again like good girls should be, I don’t have to worry about you talking back. Plus, I think your pretty little throat made a decent cocksleeve, so I’ll be fair and give you a little treat. Okay?”

You pick up your head give Micah another scowl, which he hardly takes offense to. He only chuckles as you continue to struggle. He does, however, eventually let his finger off your clit and move to pick up the silicone toy on the tray. Your eyes widen when he clicks a button on its thin base that you hadn’t noticed since it blended in with the rest of the pinkish color of the thing.

The toy begins to loudly buzz and hum, its noises filling the air of the room. You tremble as you watch Micah bring it down to your clit in place of his finger. He lingers atop it a moment, first flicking his dark eyes toward your face and smirking his pierced lip coyly at your reaction. Only after this does he commit to pressing the toy against your clit. His bare fingers remain wrapped firmly around the thing’s pink base.

The sensation of sudden whirring and humming against your clit is too much to bear. You can’t help but moan and whimper and wriggle around while at the toy’s and Micah’s mercy. Your cheeks are red hot by now, your heart beating at a quick pace. Micah merely watches with amusement at your flustered reaction, but wastes no time with his next move. While keeping the vibrator nestled atop your clit, he slips two of his gloved fingers down to your pussy and presses them in without warning. The sudden parting of your spongy walls takes you aback, but somehow the feeling of rubbery, slippery latex teasing at your insides while coupled with the incessant vibrations of the toy drive you mad. Not only that, But like with your mouth, Micah hardly goes slow.

“It’s already wet as fuck,” he remarks as his fingers begin to pound furiously at your cunt. Weak to all the pleasure, you let your head hang back again and keep it there while you’re relentlessly teased and toyed with against your will. The thick black ropes wrapped around your thighs keep them wide open for the playful doctor, and you can do no more than whine and cry pleasurably as he shoves and pulls his rubbery fingers in and out of you repeatedly. Micah laughs devilishly at your noises, amused by them.

“You really like this shit, huh?” He calls out. “You want to take the high ground and talk a big game when this is how you react to just fingers? God, you’re a real piece of work.”

You can’t focus on being mad at these insults with his presence between your legs. No matter how much you struggle, you can’ get away from the toy or Micah’s fingers. You want a break from his relentless pounding. You feel like you’re going crazy with how much he’s rubbing and pounding furiously at your insides.

Your pussy responds eagerly by gulping up his gloved digits. The sounds of rapid squelching and buzzes and your own muffled whines all reverberating against the walls. No matter what you do, you’re helpless to the sensations, and Micah relishes in every bit of your pleasurable torture.

Although at first you felt the walls of your pussy stretch and retract with each forceful push of Micah’s fingers into you, the wetness that’s pooled between your legs has helped accustom you to the repeated motion and sensation. All that’s left is the feeling of his sleek latex glove rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and rubbing relentlessly against your insides, working you to the point that you can’t even fight anymore. Once you’ve reached this point and stop struggling, only letting moans, gasps, and girlish whimpers muffledly hit against the cloth stuffed in your mouth, Micah finally starts to tease at your G-spot, curling his fingers and continuing to stimulate you until you’re dizzy with pleasure.

You can’t take it. You just can’t take any more!

Your toes curl as they hang helplessly in the air. Drool finally begins to spill from your mouth and moisten the rag keeping you from forming any words. You can’t help but let out a girlish squeal as you feel your body starting to let go. This only makes Micah grin.

“Wow, never heard that noise before,” he coyly remarks as he thrusts his fingers further into your cunt. His babyish tone returns. “You gonna come, princess? Go on, try to scream for me while you do.”

He practically growls the last sentence, his voice resonating lowly in your ear even from where he is. In moments, you let out a loud, muffled cry and finally start to come, your body attempting to thrust against Micah’s fingers but failing to with all the rope keeping you stationary. All you can really manage is light jerking of your chest and heaves of heavy breaths that make your chest violently rise. Micah merely gives a cackle as he watches you, but refuses to stop pumping his latexed fingers in and out of your sopping hole. Much to your embarrassment, you even wind up squirting out a little as you come, unable to stop yourself from doing so. Micah hardly seems bothered by it, rather enticed to see you so lusty.

You whine and whine, but he doesn’t stop, not until you can’t even bring yourself to wriggle anymore. Only when you go limp and let out one final, trailing girlish moan does Micah bother to stop his furious pace. Immediately after you’ve calmed down, he turns the vibrator off and takes it away from your clit, and his fingers retract from your body.

“You always make such a show of resisting and then come so readily,” Micah criticizes you as he places the now rather wet toy back on the tray. He steps toward your torso and reaches his gloved, wet hand out to cup your jaw. As before, he forces your head to tilt up so that you’re looking at him. Your juices lightly coat your flesh where he’s gripping you, much to your disgust. The dewy odor is unavoidable.

“I’m starting to think that you were looking forward to being touched,” Micah berates you. “Though I have to wonder if you also got off on being treated like trash over there. You’re hardly convincing me otherwise the way you’ve been responding to all this while rendered completely fucking immobile.”

Your chest rises and falls as you continue to try breathing in recovery from your orgasm. Micah observes your face with a smirk.

“You want a little more, don’t you?” He asks. “Fingers aren’t exactly enough for a girl like you, even for as good as you respond to them. Hmm?”

Your eyes shift angrily away at the embarrassment of what just happened. You couldn’t say no to him anyway with the gag stuck in and over your mouth.

“Don’t fucking look away from me!” Micah shouts when he sees you avoiding his gaze. He grips your jaw more tightly and shakes your head a bit in his hold of you. “Don’t lay there and pretend you don’t see me. Nod your head yes, got it?”

When you attempt to shake your head away in anger, Micah tuts. “Uh-uh-uh, nod.”

He squeezes your jaw tighter and forces your head still. “Nod for me, pumpkin. Come on. You want my big, strong, hard cock inside you, don’t you?”

Your eyes fill with a quiet fury at his babying, mocking tone. Nonetheless, you give up and nod for Micah, giving him “permission” to fuck you.

For as little as you care about the feel of it, you’d rather he have flipped you over and used you from behind rather than make it so personal by making you face him. Hell, you’d rather he use your ass despite you hating the feeling of being used that way. Watching Micah give a wily little grin at your submission and make his way toward your thighs now only leaves a lump in your throat. You haven’t forgotten what’s at risk here.

But you can’t stop it either.

Micah hasn’t bothered to remove his glove, and so you blush when he teases the wet pads of his latexed fingers along your inner thighs. He starts rubbing hard against them while eyeing your spread legs and exposed, sopping pussy.

“Don’t go complaining when you said you wanted it,” He calls out when he catches your uneased expression. “Stupid girl. I’m feeding that hungry little pussy of yours. You should be thanking me. I got my cock serviced by you once already, so I didn’t have to bother. Though, I do like the idea of taking you like this. Filling your greedy little cunt with cum whether you want it or not.”

His gloved hand then moves to your waist, his thumb pressing hard against the left of your abdomen as he holds you steady. With his other hand, Micah cups the underside of his cock and guides it to your exposed hole, prepping himself to push in. Your thighs tremble when you feel the head of his dick graze over your entrance. Micah smirks as he watches you shiver, consequently choosing to rub and teases his head around your entrance to make you squirm even more. His hand squeezes harder around your waist.

“You fucks do look kinda cute when you’re spread open like this,” he teases. “When you don’t have control over what happens to your little holes. It gets you off, doesn’t it?”

He hardly waits for any kind of muffled response. Micah immediately shoves himself into you, pressing past your folds and your pussy, and pushing the tip and shaft of his cock further in. Your walls part even more with the pressure of his entry, the sudden sensation of something bigger burying itself inside of you causing a loud groan to escape ungraciously from your throat.

Micah forces himself fully into you, but stops the moment his crotch meets yours. He stands there, holding your waist and watching your legs subtly shuffle about.

“Well, it sure gets me off too,” he gives a low laugh. His other, bare hand, no longer griping the underside of his shaft now that it’s inside your body, then makes its way to the other side of your waist. Micah grips you tightly, and once he has you, he begins to pull back.

You let out a yelp when he shoves back into you just once, the head of his cock hitting at your insides and leaving your body wanting to feel more. Your fists ball and tighten when Micah gives a hearty chuckle at your response and repeats his motion once more, slowly.

“Damn, you feel just as good as I remember,” he comments between concentrated grunts. “I’d be pretty mad if you weren’t up to snuff. I’m sure you’re having fun too judging by that stupid, horny look on your face. This is much better than a few fingers, isn’t it?”

You again instinctively try to shut your legs, but are again reminded of the thick ropes holding tightly onto your thighs. Micah scoffs as he pulls back and plows deep into you again.

“Do you seriously think you can stop this?” He criticizes casually, huffing pleasurably toward the end of his question as he pumps again into you. “I’ve wrapped you up nice and tight in those ropes for a reason, honey. You’re not going anywhere until you’re creamed the fuck up and full of my cum. Got that?”

You whine muffledly as Micah’s pace begins to pick up. He no longer cares to make his sly comments now that he’s gotten himself riled up. You can feel the solid erectness of his cock with every pump of it into you. Every loud slapping of his crotch against yours and every brush of his warmth against you leaves you dizzy. Your legs are so wide open that you can’t resist the pleasure at all, nor can you help but let your cries turn into moans as Micah’s warm body rubs up against yours and inside of you.

“Feel good, princess?” Micah teases you with a fakely precious tone. His fingers rub the underside of your waist as he shifts them about. “You’re not crying as hard as you usually do.”

Your pussy’s gulping up Micah’s cock without a second thought. Your insides feel warm as he pounds wetly and deeply into your hole, filling you up with his warmth. You don’t want to like this, but you’re so turned on from all the other sensations you can’t help it.

Your eyes shut as Micah rides you greedily, the wetness between your legs making it so easy for him to fuck you. With your head hanging back, you can’t much see him. All you can manage to sense is the sounds of Micah’s low growls and grunts as he uses your body for his pleasure, and the wet slapping of his body as it meets with yours before retracting and coming back over and over again.

Drool again spills out of your mouth and onto the, by now, rather moist rag stuffed In and over it. You can’t take much more of this.

As if reading your mind, Micah’s huffs and groans halt as he attempts to talk, but all he can do is let out fractured grunts of speech.

“Fuck…I’m gonna…”

He can’t much finish, but by the way he’s picked up his pace even more and started to press his fingers tightly against your flesh, you know what he’s going to say.

Your own moans and nasally pants don’t let up either as your pleasure builds. Your heart pounds incessantly as the need to let go arises, your body utterly warm and weak to Micah’s furious pounding of your pussy.

Soon, you feel your assailant’s cock pulse and throb inside your hole, and you let out a loud wail as the feeling of Micah’s cum spilling inside your pussy becomes more apparent. As he lets out a loud growl, he pushes his body hard against yours to make sure all of his load gets deep into you.

You continue to cry into your gag and wriggle desperately in your bonds as Micah fills your helpless body with cum. Your hips struggle to grind against the man in your own pleasure, but any bit of movement that you can muster is enough to feed your desirous orgasm. The toes on your handing feet curl tight as Micah continues to ejaculate into you, his grip ever tight as he grits his teeth and refuses to let you go.

For good measure, and once he’s able to focus again, Micah gives a breathy, sly little laugh and pumps his cock back and into you hard, making you squeak out a whine. Only then does he remain still again.

You try to breathe, but each exhale is dressed with long girlish moans as your body drinks up the cum it’s been fed. You lay there in your suspension wanting to be let go, feeling utterly used and dirty with Micah still inside you. Your body, however, wants to stay just like this.

By now, your forehead has begun to glisten a bit with sweat, and your limbs ache from being restrained like this for so long despite the support you have the way you’re hung. Micah’s bare hand retracts from your waist and instead comes up to your chin. He tips it toward him, forcing you to face back up at the doctor.

“Nothing to say?” Micah teases once he’s composed himself, though his words still remain breathy as he attempts to gather himself fully. Micah’s bare chest rises and falls as he sucks in and expels air. “You’re still moaning like a little whore. That all feel good?”

Your eyes remain glazed over from the pleasure. Your lack of response makes Micah chuckle.

“Now that’s a good face for a bratty girl like you.”

He drops your head then, leaving it to hang once more. Carefully, Micah pulls his cock out of you, the exit making you give another low, short moan. This, Micah doesn’t say much of, but he hardly has to. You know just what he’s thinking.

Having freed himself, Micah picks up his knife from the tray next. Upon making his way back to you, he hovers an arm under your back and reaches up to cut the ropes above you. This you find odd, but don’t bother fighting. When the severed ropes start to fall off of the strands they’d once been connected to, you feel your upper body fall into Micah’s arm. It’s tensed as he prepared it to catch your weight, and you fit comfortably in his cradling grasp.

Your legs lower next, finally falling after so long of being suspended, but the moment your feet touch the ground, you nearly collapse with the sudden shift in gravity. Micah holds your upper body close against his chest to keep you steady, grumbling all the while.

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes off your pathetic response. “You’re gonna feel weak as fuck after hanging in the air that long. Don’t get all freaked out about it.”

He drags your limp body over to a nearby metal table and tosses you on there. The skin of your back rubs against the cool metal, bringing a relieving sensation to your fairly hot body. Your arms remain bound behind you, between you and the table, but being able to lay down like this is a bit less strenuous than hanging mercilessly in the air.

The long ropes are all still tied to you, but the relief from being held up by them is immensely satisfying. Though, you admit you are fairly tired. You knew there had been strain on your body while being hung, but you hadn’t realized just how much there was. Why Micah chose to do this to you when you’re hardly at your best physical shape, you don’t know. Though, he’s always had his tendencies to be hard on your body, even in small ways.

Although your body is still snug in the ropes, you are at least able to move your legs a bit more freely now that the conjoined knot they’d been on has been cut. However, before you can shut them, Micah grabs your right thigh and lifts your leg open. His dark eyes wander over to your creamy pussy, observing it with satisfaction.

“That cute little cunt of yours looks like it’s been plenty milked up,” he teases you relentlessly. “I’d have pumped less of my load into you if I weren’t so stressed with work lately, but I needed a release, so I guess you have my gratitude for being my fuckdoll today. Though, I can’t tell if you’re still shaking because you’re on solid ground again after hanging so long, or if you’re just hoping I’ll keep fucking you.”

Micah frowns then. “You don’t deserve it. Milking a cock with your hungry little cunt is a privilege. I only gave you a taste out of pity, and because I wanted to watch you squirm while I filled your hole right up. But boy, did you suck up everything like a greedy little bitch.”

He chuckles devilishly as he climbs atop the table and straddles you, keeping your legs spread for him. You blush as his cock rubs against your sopping slit, but Micah hardly seems interested in filling you again. Instead, he brings his knife to your gag and finally cuts it off, allowing you to fully breathe. Once he pulls the cloth away, he sets his knife down somewhere by your head and tosses the rag onto the floor. His bare hand presses flat against the metal table as you lay helplessly beneath him.

Your head lays back against the table as you suck in more air, the taste of cum and saliva and sweat and cloth no longer harshly pressing against your tongue, though still partially lingering there. Despite the relief, Micah doesn’t much let you rest long. He swipes two of his latex fingers down over your slit, scooping up a glob of his cum and your own juices. Before you can react, He brings his fingers back up to your face and sticks them into your mouth hard, pressing the soiled digits to your tongue and rubbing them against it. He reaches far back enough for you to almost choke, your reaction causing a sly smirk to form on the man’s lips as he hovers atop you.

“You’re still blushing,” he points out gleefuly. “And you’re wriggling under me like you expect me to fuck you again. What a pretty little slut you are.”

You wriggle about and try to shake your head away as Micah’s latex digits tease and rub at your tongue. He laughs.

“God you look so pathetic.”

Suddenly, his fingers come out of your mouth, and instead move to grip your hair. Micah pulls your head by its hair and tips it back. Leaving no room for protest, he immediately plants a hard kiss on your mouth. His tongue wraps around yours hungrily as he vehemently works your lips against your will, the sudden act taking you utterly by surprise. You want to pull him off of you, but your arms remain bound beneath you.

Micah’s nose lets out gruff breaths as he forces a long, hard series of kisses onto you. His saliva mixes with yours, much to your disgust. Even when Micah finally pulls away and lets you breathe, he does not stop teasing you. His wettened lips meet your nape next, then your ear. It’s here that stops and purrs,

“You want more, princess?”

The sensation of his lips and breath so close to your ear make you give a light moan in response. Your chest is fluttering and your body is helpless to whatever the man is intending. But rather than start fucking you again, Micah pulls his head away from you and looks down at your flustered face with amusement. He can’t help but laugh like a cruel schoolboy.

“Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?” He refuses. “I already said you don’t deserve it. Brats don’t get to call the shots, stupid girl. You always do this to yourself by being so resistant. Though, it is a little cute.”

Without hesitating, Micah then collects his knife once more and thrusts it close to your face, causing you to gasp.

“By the way, don’t diss my knife again. That’s off limits. Got it?”

“W-Why?” You question, attempting to regain yourself after being left unsatisfactorily flustered by Micah. You’re completely embarrassed to have reacted that way, but try to hide it. You’re sure the effort is bogus, but the man atop you is hardly commenting on it right now. “Why do you even care about a butterfly knife?”

Micah scowls. “It’s called a goddamn balisong, stupid. Not like you would know. Anyway, why do you care why I care? It’s just important to me, that’s all. I’ve been playing with knives for a long time. Kinda my thing. This one just happens to be a gift from someone I know. I had others before that were gifts from someone I used to know too.”

He presses the tip of his knife against your throat. “I’ve had this one for a good few years, you know. A quality blade in itself, but I’ve done well to maintain it every day—make sure that it’s functioning just right. So when you insult it, you’re insulting me and the person who gave it to me. I don’t much like that. Be a little brat all you want, but don’t trash the things I actually care about. Not even to be cute, because I’ll be cutting more than just on the surface if you do. Got it?”

You wince as the tip of the blade presses into your throat enough for it to start breaking some skin.

“Alright!” You agree in a slight panic. “Stop!”

“You said you had no reason to be scared of me when I’m not the one who gets to kill you,” Micah criticizes you harshly upon seeing your reaction. He retracts the blade. “You seem pretty scared to me.”

“I’m not as pathetic as you think I am!” you bark back. “I still react to things. That’s just how I am. Stop treating me like dirt because you think I have to be like you to pass as strong! I went through a lot and you have no fucking idea how hard it was!”

Micah cocks a pierced brow.

“Think so?” He questions rather bluntly. “You’re not the only one here with scars. We’re all a little fucked up here. We’re just better at dealing with, or even hiding it, than you are. You’re still a crybaby, even if you’re not as bad as you once were from the looks of it.”

He sits up straight and runs a hand through his hair while giving a long sigh.

“Geez,” he groans. “Leave it to you to kill a mood. You’re as bad as my Number sometimes, you know that?”

Micah decides to fully push off of you and move to stand up. Finally able to, you shut your legs. Although the ropes still remain wrapped snug and tight around your chest and lower body, the ability to move your legs is refreshing as hell.

Though, when you shift your legs around while closed, you continue to feel an uncomfortable, slippery wetness between them. The sensation only fully reminds you that your pussy is still full of Micah’s cum, a realization that leaves a pit in your stomach.

“I’ll tell you one thing though,” Micah begins to comment as he zips himself up. He proceeds to walk over to one of the cabinets afterward. “I wasn’t playing when I said you’d have a better time if you admitted to being slutty. People are more messed up than they like to admit. That’s for sure. Fighting it only causes problems.”

“I’m not taking advice from you,” you refuse him while turning away toward the cabinets to your right, away from Micah. “I’m not like you.”

You hear a cabinet shut. “Think so?”

When Micah returns to you, you feel his hand wrap around one of your ankles and pull it down over the table so that it’s hanging over the edge. Perking your head up, you look on in worry.

“What are you doing?!” You demand. Micah merely smirks. You watch with unease as he clamps a restraint over your ankle, one that’s connected to a long bar. Only when you see the bar does it dawn on you that he’s trying to part your legs with it.

“I thought you were done!” You attempt to remind him. “Why are you-“

“I’m done. Not you,” Micah asserts as he repeats the same motion with your other leg. You attempt to kick him away, but his grip Is fairly strong. He has no trouble jerking your leg down like he wants. Once done clasping the next restraint over your ankle, Micah stands up and observes your spread legs with intrigue.

“You’re still hungry for cock,” he says. “I don’t feel like giving more to a brat like you. Don’t get me wrong—I’d love nothing more than to keep fucking the shit out of you, but I know how to cut things off when girls misbehave. You don’t know how to quit because you lack discipline. But fine—If you wanna be greedy and come more, then you’re gonna. This will do for a needy little cock-hungry slut like you.”

You attempt to pull your legs back and shut them, but the bar clangs against the underside of the table when you do. You’re stuck like this.

Micah picks something up he’d set on the table by where your feet once were, which you now see is a curved, purple vibrator. The thing has two jutting ends, one longer than the other. Your tormentor hardly wastes a moment in sticking the bulk of it inside you. The smaller end nestles atop your clit perfectly. Despite having settled a bit after being filled, the sensation of smooth silicone forcefully rubbing against the walls of your pussy causes you to let out a subtle gasp of pleasure in response.

Micah watches you struggle, knowing it’s pointless and finding amusement in your efforts anyway. He cocks his head and turns the vibrator on without a second thought. The sudden whirring and buzzing of the thing sends sparks inside your body, causing you to struggle in your bonds and let out a loud, pleasured yelp in response.

“Like I said, you’re not done,” he tells you bluntly with a devilish little smirk. “I’m gonna leave you with this, and you’re going to have to wait until someone comes to get it out of you, If you’re worried about being hurt by it, don’t. It won’t be long before they arrive. You’re gonna fall asleep with my cum and this toy inside you, and the workers and your doctor will all get to see what a huge slut you are when they come and see you creaming yourself over and over again. Sound good?”

The vibrator continues to stimulate you mercilessly, and you can hardly wriggle away from it. Micah laughs as he watches your pathetic attempt to evade the thing. Moans slip uncontrollably out of you now, much to your shame.

Micah bends down over your torso and leans his elbows along the metal table, by your head. While you gasp and whine with the incessant stimulation of your pussy and clit, your visitor brings his lips to your ear.

“See? Doesn’t that feel good?” He teases, his voice low and crooning handsomely in your ear. “Being a little slut isn’t so bad, is it?”

He chuckles and nips hard at your earlobe, an act that sends another wave of pleasurable shivers down your spine. When Micah pulls away again, he leaves to collect his knife and his clothes. Before heading out the door, he turns to watch you writhe and wriggle in helpless pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you suck in heavy breaths and whine desperately into the air.

Micah cocks a toothy grin at you.

“Enjoy.”

You’d hoped he was only teasing you about leaving you like this, but the moment the door opens and Micah disappears behind it, the horror toward the reality of your situation sets in. You’re not sure if it’s safe to stay like this long, and you don’t wanna keep being forced to come from a toy with nobody around to make sure you’re okay.

Perhaps Micah wasn’t lying in saying you won’t lie here like this for much longer, but you’re already starting to get incredibly dizzy in this state. You keep trying to shake the vibrator out of your pussy with a series of desperate, thrashing hip motions, but it stays snug inside you.

Something sparks in you after a while of failed attempts at shaking free, and you realize that you’re about to reach your peak from just a toy. No matter how hard you want to fight it, your body refuses to stop feeling good. Your moans and whines of agony and protest become more lusty as you start to grind your hips forward. Your head cocks to the side, your bare, undamaged cheek pressing against the cool of the metal table as drool spills out from your lips. You continue to rock your hips back and forth, reaping pleasure from the vibrator as you start to come.

You didn’t want this to happen, but you can’t stop yourself from letting gasps and girlish moans escape you. This pleasure is one you ride out, but even when it ends, the whirring between your legs continues its torment.

Your eyes shut as you give up, letting your body succumb to waves of lust. You feel utterly weak now, and knowing that you’re going to be found sprawled out like this only causes another pit to form In your stomach.

This feels good, but you don’t want it to.

A part of you direly hopes Micah will return to turn off the device, practically begs for it. But you know it won’t happen. Your only saving grace is that a wave of exhaustion starts to wash over you after a while of this torment, and you can gather quickly just why.

Yosuke will undoubtedly be upset seeing you cut up and spread open like this, but he’ll be unable to do anything about it. The thought of having to comfort him yourself again upsets you, but in your pleasured state, it becomes hard to let your rational self shine through.

The next thought only grazes your mind a moment, but leaves a lasting spark of lust in your body when it does. When the topic of Yosuke emerges in your head, you start to enjoy the idea of your doctor pinning you down and fucking you. In your dazed and dizzy, lusty state, you look up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes and imagine that it’s his body above you now, and his cock filling your insides.

You know this is wrong, but you’re so fucked up now that you don’t care about getting off to the idea of it with nobody around to judge you. Besides, you’re going to be asleep soon, right? So, just this once when you have no shred of rationale…

Again, your body sparks with lust, and you begin to climax far sooner than you expected you would. With your body growing increasingly tired from the anesthetic being pumped into the room, your orgasm feels less intense and more dreamy, like you’re floating on a cloud. By now, you’ve spilled far too much drool on the table, but you hardly care.

Weak moans keep rolling off your tongue, but nobody is around to hear them. After you’ve fully surrendered to the vibrator, your body finally shuts completely down. Your pussy feels a bit numb with pleasure at this point, but you hardly care as your eyelids close and slumber takes hold.

You think you hear the familiar sound of the door opening in the middle of passing out, but you aren’t entirely sure, nor do you have the strength to open your eyes.

Supposing there is someone there in the room, the part of you that still despises this torture causes you to try mumbling tiredly for help just once before you completely collapse.

Chapter 74: Rest Thirty - Impasse

Waking up hardly brings discomfort this time, which you remain thankful for after the brush with Micah you just had. Your eyes don’t open immediately, though by the way your legs brush against soft sheets, and the way your head gently nestles against plush pillows that are cool to the touch, you wager you’re in a bed. Whether it’s your bedroom or your examination room isn’t immediately apparent, but since there’s not really a blanket over your body, it’s not hard to guess.

You’re lying on your side again, the cheek that isn’t injured resting comfortably against the pillow. Upon shifting just slightly, your forehead is met with a warm, soft backhanded touch. By now, it’s fairly familiar. It’s not worth questioning whose hand it is.

You hardly want to open your eyes and see Yosuke, especially when you remember just what happened before passing out. The thought of him fucking you had riled your excited body up, but now that it’s easier to think clearly, you’re disgusted by the fact. Though, it’s not like the man really ever has to know what you thought. He can see through your lies and read your body language so easily, but he can’t really read your mind.

Maybe you are a little predictable, though. Yosuke has sometimes assumed things of you that are true. You’re hardly proud of it.

“Ten.”

Evidently your doctor knows you’re awake just by the small bodily shifts. It’s weird, but predictable that he’s on you like this. Unable to avoid his attention, you finally let your eyelids raise up, your vision promptly met with that of your hovering doctor once your eyes shift up toward him. He smiles kindly when he catches your gaze.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, tenderly petting your head. You let a huff of breath slowly expel from your nostrils. Attempting to assess yourself more closely, you suppose nothing’s out of order. You’re still in the process of emerging from your dormant state, if anything. Maybe your pussy’s a little tender from the incessant pounding, but you hardly want to bring that up.

“Fine,” you opt to tell Yosuke, practically grumbling. You don’t want him to touch you right now.

Your hand slowly raises up to touch delicately at your cheek, but your pads only graze a smooth surface pasted onto your skin there.

“I took care of that for you, my dear,” Yosuke explains when he watches you do this. “Micah didn’t cut quite so deep for the wound to be incredibly damaging, but it was still rather fresh and bloody when I arrived. It should be alright to remove the bandage tomorrow. The wound will be able to heal on its own afterward.”

“Were you the one who got me?” You question, embarrassed when you remember what had happened to you last.

“Yes.”

Yosuke then frowns. “You had me quite worried, you know. You were begging for help in your sleep and even continued to mutter and plead for it even when you were out.”

Your eyes drop to the mattress. “Are you mad at him?”

Yosuke goes quiet a moment, focusing on his petting of you. However, he eventually brings himself to answer,

“Yes. I don’t much like how he handled my dearest pet. But you’re here now, and you’re alright. That’s something I can hold onto.”

He tilts his head a bit. “Beyond the obvious, did Micah hurt you?”

“Embarrassed me, more like,” you admit. “Hearing specifics is just going to get you even more mad. But I’m fine. My cheek stings a bit and feels kind of sore, but I’m mostly just groggy from the drugs. It’s been a while since I got dosed so regularly.”

Yosuke smiles. “You’ll accustom to it again in time, my dear. I will say, though--The only thing I don’t much disagree on Micah with is the use of rope. I suppose that man and I have some shared interests after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” you beg, shutting your eyes tight. “Please.”

Yosuke chuckles. “I only wanted to say you looked fairly cute wrapped in rope, that’s all. But as you like, pet. I’ll be nice and not pester you.”

He stops petting you then, instead retracting his hand and leaving it at his side.

“If you can sit up, then we should get going,” he says. “I only wanted to tend to you after finding you in that state. You were fairly dirty, you know. I also had to take great care in cleaning you afterwards, because you ended up wincing in your sleep with certain movements I had to make. I presume you were sore.”

Thinking on it now, your limbs do feel a bit that way. But since you’ve rested, it’s not nearly as bad as it was right after Micah dropped you in his arms.

“Are you in a rush again?” You question while attempting to dodge any further commentary on your visit. You sit up now that the subject’s arisen. Yosuke simply nods and gives another gentle smile.

“I wish I could stay. You did look so darling laying like that, and I’d very much love to watch you further. But work comes first for now.”

You blush when he sweetly rubs the back of his hand against your unbandaged cheek.

“You always work up there,” you point out quickly. “What is there to even do? Paperwork? Lab work?”

“Paperwork and file management are a huge part of medicine in general,” Yosuke sighs, as if bothered by the reminder. “Many things must be recorded and properly reported. Slip-ups in calculations or variables or recorded data are expected due to natural human error, but calculations should be as precise as possible otherwise. Especially when you do it digitally. I’m hardly a statistician myself—not explicitly, anyway. We have others who handle the medical statistics here. But medicine and science can be tedious. I do love my work otherwise. I am a bit hands-on now and then. But as I said before, there’s only so much about what I do that I can divulge. I personally don’t find it so grand that it’s worthy of being kept secret to our guests, but my superior is adamant about keeping certain privacies, and so I will obey that.”

Yosuke then pauses to look over at you, his olive gaze fixated on your face.

“My, you look confused. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you assure him quietly. You’re assessed one last time before Yosuke is satisfied by this answer. When he reaches down to scoop you up in his arms, you don’t bother putting up a fight. This pleases the man holding you, a warm smile spreading across his lips.

“Good girl, Ten,” he praises. “You remembered.”

He lifts your body up while hunching himself over you a bit so that his lips can meet yours. Yosuke only gives you a brief kiss, but it’s enough to leave his warmth lingering on your lips. In the middle of it, you blush from the closeness of the man, simultaneously recalling how stupidly you lusted for the idea of him overpowering you when you were feeling rather flustered with the vibrator. You thought irrationally.

Maybe that’s why people get so fucked up when they get obsessed with sex—it’s dangerous. It’s one thing to be drugged, but it’s another to slip into a sex-obsession on one’s own. Perhaps someone like Mom was once responsible with her sexual fascinations and let it slip away because of how much she loved it. Though, you’d believe that this place generally just makes people go insane. Both you prisoners and the doctors.

Your knees press together before Yosuke’s lips retract from yours, though your doctor doesn’t notice the gesture in his focus on your face.

He chuckles seeing you so flustered, but hardly gives more verbal teases. Instead, he whisks you away and heads out of the room.

“Do be sure to eat today,” he reminds you. As if you needed to be told. “Perhaps I’ll feed you another time. But I think my superior is attempting to keep me particularly busy on purpose. I suppose he thinks distracting me will help me ease off of what he thinks is a path toward future bad behavior.”

“You can’t really blame him for it, can you?” Despite how much you hate The Overseer, his reasoning in restricting Yosuke in any way isn’t exactly unusual. Your doctor has the capacity to unhinge, and you fear what that may be like if he can get any worse than what you’ve seen already. “You acted beyond what he expected, I’m sure. He had a reason to take offense.”

“Oh? Do you know that reason better than I?”

Yosuke’s question takes you aback when it brings about the memory of what you learned of Jade and her doctor. Your discussions with Lucius haven’t been forgotten.

Rather than refute this immediately, you turn your head and nuzzle it against Yosuke’s chest with the sole intent of hiding your face away from your doctor’s view.

“No,” you lie, attempting to control yourself so that it’s not immediately apparent to Yosuke that this is false. It’s hardly a heart-pounding lie, but you have always had the tendency to react a certain way when lying. Granted, there’s things about The Overseer’s reaction to Yosuke that you might not have any idea about—you can’t parse the man’s intentions all that well even with the info you received. So maybe this little white lie isn’t so bad, nor entirely a lie.

“I don’t know why I was put through what I was beyond what we both know,” you opt to say. “I can only guess why he’s hovering over you so much.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end,” Yosuke decides to shrug this off. “I have to focus on my own affairs and make sure I don’t anger him, that’s all. Attempting to understand that man’s motivations is pointless.”

Is he really not at all privy to the slight falseness to your words? This strikes you as odd, though you had supposed that your statements weren’t wholly untrue. This isn’t much of a victory, then.

Yosuke looks down at you as he cradles your body lovingly. His olive eyes are warm and full of tender adoration.

“You look precious,” he comments, changing the subject. “Is it comforting, leaning against me like this?”

No…He’s been distracted by your cozying up to his chest, it seems. You’re embarrassed at his teases since you hadn’t wanted to nuzzle up against him like this for any reason other than your own selfish intentions, but you guess you’ll have to deal with the consequences of being affectionate.

“You’re warm,” is all you say. This is hardly a lie. The warmth of Yosuke’s hold on you does feel good, for as little as you want to admit it.

Yosuke gives a boyish chuckle. “Ah? You’re so cute when you’re needy, darling. I have plenty of warmth to give. All you have to do is ask.”

He’s painting more of an idealized image of you in his head with each moment like this, you think. Even if he knows it’s fake, Yosuke can’t help but indulge in your surrenders after so many fights. He finds it enthralling. It’s hard to live up to what he sees of you for the sake of keeping your doctor distracted from what pisses him off.

It’s better not to bark back at him. Being able to spit back at Micah was satisfying enough, even if it did get you in trouble. You’d gladly take a hundred scars if it means screaming out around the other doctors instead of holding most everything in like you have to with yours.

Rather than make a snide, bothered comment against Yosuke, you just lean closer against his chest. This time, you do it to avoid having to look up at his disgustingly enamored face.

Maybe you are pathetic for cozying up like this, for not being more outspoken. Once you were, now you can’t be. Not entirely, anyway. But it’s not like the you who fights has gone. She’s just waiting for the right moment to do so again. Besides, you still do protest with Yosuke here and there. That part of you hasn’t truly left, and you certainly refuse to let it ever.

If the precious gesture of you lovingly leaning against Yosuke makes him happy, so be it.

You’re gently ferried down the hall as always, though you begin to wonder as the corner approaches whether Yosuke intends to keep carrying you like this. Last time, he didn’t seem to want Mom getting riled up by seeing him act this way with you.

This time, however, it appears that he’s hardly going to stop. You remain flustered with red cheeks in response to this revelation. Your eyes watch the corner nervously as it inches ever closer.

What makes it worse is the apparent sound of two voices chattering that grows more audible as you come closer to the corner. Thankfully, neither are Mom’s voice, but you’re not at all eager to have anyone see you be babied like this by your doctor. It’s enough when he forces you to kiss him or touches your face around others, but to be seen more openly like this, especially being obedient to him like this…

It’s just embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about how he’ll act around your friends, should he ever come to you around them for any reason. Yosuke’s reaction to Cyrus was frightening and horrible, though that was more his being defensive when he learned how close you and Cyrus were. Your doctor might not be as crude toward the others, but you have no doubt in your mind that Yosuke would still find a way to make things awful.

Your head turns as you and Yosuke round the corner toward the office, and you’re fairly relieved to see Monica there as opposed to Mom. She’s got the door completely open, and like her coworker tends to, she’s standing in the doorway, being chatty. Her hands each casually clasp the other and hang by her thighs. On her lively face is a cheery smile while she chatters away. You think she’s in the middle of another bout of light gossip. When your eyes trail opposite of her, Jonathan’s standing there, his arms casually crossed and his head bobbing subtly up and down as he gives a laugh to one particular statement.

He looks much the same as you remember. You’re hardly displeased to see him, but certainly not eager. Especially not now that you’re being held like this by Yosuke.

Both Jonathan and Monica pause when you’ve rounded the corner, and look over at you with surprise. Jonathan looks even moreso taken aback than Monica as his amber eyes immediately lock onto you from behind his rounded glasses. Though his lips part in shock, he composes himself rather quickly and lets a smile form instead.

“It’s good to see you two,” he greets kindly. “Welcome back. I suppose it’s been a while since you’ve been around.”

Maybe he was taken aback by your difference in appearance rather than just your sudden emergence itself. Jonathan isn’t saying “I thought you were dead” like others, but you’re sure he thought the same as they did.

“You don’t seem as surprised as I expected,” Yosuke remarks curiously, practically mimicking your own thoughts. Jonathan simply laughs at this.

“Nathaniel saw your Number yesterday and passed along the message,” he relays, only temporarily flickering his eyes to Yosuke to answer him. Though, they go back to you before he starts to talk more. He frowns, then.

“Ten, are you alright?” He seems genuinely concerned, his voice softer with you than it was with Yosuke. Maybe you’d be a tinge grateful for the, you suppose, concern if not for the continued embarrassment of being ferried unwillingly in public. It’s bad enough when Yosuke does it in private. “Did you get hurt?”

Monica raises a brow as her brown eyes gaze upon you next. She peeks at your bandage with a curious and thoughtful stare. “That looks like something Micah would do.”

“Yes, it is,” Yosuke answers quickly for you. He hardly sounds pleased. “That man doesn’t take the best care of those he visits. I simply had to patch Ten here up myself. But it wasn’t much of a serious injury anyway. Other than a scratch, she’s just fine.”

“Hmm, how about him?” Monica giggles as she addresses Jonathan before her, as if distracted by some ah-hah moment. “Micah, I mean.”

“Him?!” Jonathan gives a rather surprised look, almost blushing. He unfolds his arms and brings a hand to his cheek, a tinge flustered by the question. “Maybe if I’m in a particular mood. He’s a bit much sometimes from what I’ve heard.”

“Please tell me this isn’t the kind of discussion I think it is,” Yosuke grumbles. Monica laughs.

“I suppose you’ll say such discussions are pointless around you?” She teases him. “We were just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

Yosuke shrugs a bit. “That’s the sort of thing dear old mother does. She must be rubbing off on you.”

You remain with your head nestled against Yosuke’s chest, avoiding the gazes of the two doctors by the office. You can tell from occasional side-glances that they’re periodically eyeing you, and it’s making you want to just shrink and disappear. What they’re thinking isn’t clear, but it’s the focus they have on you and your doctor’s decision to cradle you this way that leaves you continuously uneasy.

“In any case, we should all be focusing on our work, no?” Yosuke goes on. His voice vibrates in his chest and against your ear. “I have my own to get to as well.”

“I just wanted to take a quick break since I had some free time,” Jonathan refutes this without being too forward. “Besides, Yosuke—are you one to talk when you’re doing that with your Number?”

“Doing what?” Yosuke raises a brow. Jonathan chuckles boyishly.

“You’ve gotten fairly attached, looks like,” he teases with a lighthearted tone. “I’ve never seen you carry her like that before. But I admit, it is rather sweet.”

Yosuke smiles politely. His explanation is simple:

“I merely prefer this. It’s something of a new rule I’ve set between us.”

“Rule?” Monica gives a curious look. “Did she do something to warrant such a rule? Has she misbehaved?”

You blush at the sudden attention. You really, really want to disappear right now.

What strikes you most in the moment is how casually Monica’s talking about all this. You expect it from the others by now, but not her since she’s so new. Perhaps her intrigue isn’t from a sexual fascination like it is with Mom, but it’s still strange to you that she’s talking about it this way. She sounds like she’s curious about it all, not necessarily excited.

Yosuke laughs handsomely and bumps up your body just a hair, as if to gather your attention. Instinctively, you look up at him with a flustered face. This only makes his smile grow.

“On the contrary—she’s been a very good girl as of late,” he ensures the others. “Setbacks are few, though she still has some attachments I prefer she not linger on.”

“It seems you do as well,” Jonathan responds jokingly. Yosuke’s olive eyes flicker up at the man, his smile slightly fading. Monica giggles at this jest herself, bringing a hand over her lips to try hiding it.

“Now, certainly you’ve been attached to your own before, right?” You feared Yosuke would react bitterly, but he’s apparently opted to remain polite and light as the other two. “Your prior Numbers, perhaps?”

“I’ve never had to say goodbye to a patient of mine,” Monica remarks rather curiously. “I don’t think I would like the way that feels. But I’m sure I’d still care.”

“I’ve never lost anyone to this place either,” Yosuke chimes in with a nod. “I’ve only relinquished one in lieu of another.”

He hugs you a bit closer. His gesture might be visually subtle, but you feel his arms and fingers tighten just a little around your body.

“It is a difficult thing,” Jonathan admits, suddenly downtrodden. His smile remains, but his amber eyes radiate a sadness you’ve never seen before. His gaze affixes to the floor. “It’s easier for some than others. Some can toss their own aside without a second thought. ‘Bring in another’, they’d probably say. Me and Nathaniel have always felt a little bad about the losses ourselves.”

Amber was his, wasn’t she? You’ve known Jonathan and his partner to be kind to you and your companions, thankfully so. As you recall it, he’d once brought up his previous Number and mentioned that it had hurt him to lose her despite his knowing what to expect in a place like this. Both he and Nathaniel have both lost their Numbers to untimely deaths, but Penny’s case was probably more of an accident. Amber, however…Her case was different.

“Should we be discussing this?” Yosuke stops Jonathan before he can say his next piece. Jonathan shakes his head.

“It doesn’t much matter. He hardly lingers on the old unless it’s necessary to. Of course I won’t bring up patients I shouldn’t. I try to stick to the rules as expected. Even the ‘guests’ know that there’s limits to that topic. But everyone else tends to be fair game, so far as I’ve come to understand it. I thought you’d have known that as well.”

“Guests…?” you finally bring yourself to speak, your voice vindictive. “You mean prisoners.”

Everyone immediately turns their attention to you, though your eyes hardly bother to look up. Your hands, currently nestled atop your thighs, begin to tense. You didn’t want to speak up, but hearing this conversation has only left a pit in your stomach. Nonetheless, you persist and repeat yourself.

“We’re your prisoners.”

Despite the harsh words, Jonathan keeps his cool and does not let his mood sour. Rather, he smiles.

“Well, it’s not a polite word to use,” he says. “’Guest’ is nicer. Do understand that we know how you feel, Ten. Some of us just try to make things pleasurable for you given the circumstances. We are capable of our own sympathies.”

“Only some of you.” You turn again towards Yosuke, practically flashing your bandaged cheek to Jonathan as you shut him out of the conversation. He merely sighs, but keeps his darling smile.

“Now, Ten, don’t fuss,” Yosuke warns. “Do apologize to Doctor Giordano.”

You don’t bother fighting it, but don’t turn back to Jonathan either. All you do is mutter.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need,” Jonathan gives a sweet laugh. “I’m not at all offended. I do appreciate the gesture, though.”

Monica bites her lip upon gauging the unnerving tension and shifts her eyes around. “Anyway, maybe I should let you in.”

“Are you embarrassed, doctor?” Yosuke questions with an amused chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m fairly patient myself with this kind of thing. My dear Ten tends to get like this now and then.”

He frowns. “But I’m sure you know that.”

“I’ve only ever really spoken to her a few times,” the woman shrugs in response. You can hardly even tell she’s lying with how well she pulls the act off. Monica then gives a warm smile as her lips curve up. “She was rather lippy with me once before leaving. But I still want to be gentle with her and all the other guests.”

“I see.” Yosuke subtly returns her friendly smile. “I appreciate that. I’d rather not have another person rattling up someone I care so much for.”

“It is hard to avoid,” Jonathan comments. “It’s just a matter of being there when they need you, even if they don’t want to accept your help. My own Number tends to be so reserved and fussy with me. I suppose not wholly unlike yours. But I still do what I can for him.”

“They tend to all be that way to some extent,” Yosuke nods. “It’s expected.”

You dislike his and everyone else’s casual discussion of all this. Yosuke in particular isn’t just talking about you as people, but as predictable things. Maybe that’s unsurprising given how little he cares for anyone but you. The others hardly exist unless they’re an obstacle that he deems necessary to pry you from by any means possible.

At least with Jonathan, you’re think his use of the word “guest” came genuinely out of a less harmful place. You’re sure Yosuke hardly even cares one way or another and only means to be polite for the sake of appearances. Back then, he was hardly all that concerned with sentiment and did toss the word around like nothing. Now it’s more like he doesn’t want to admit this is all horrible if it means he gets to have his toy. His plaything. His-

“Darling?”

Yosuke’s voice shakes you from a thought, and you look back up at him with fire in your eyes, your cheeks still red even now.

“You look bothered,” he lightly laughs, seeing right through that face. “We should hurry on.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Monica sighs, realizing this as her cue “I’ll see you all another day.”

“She’s not in there after all?” Yosuke questions. “I figured she might be resting at the very least.”

Monica shakes her head as she starts to turn back toward the door, Her manicured hand grazes the door frame, and she pauses before fully committing to hiding back into the area.

“Mamita had to go take care of something very early today and still hasn’t come back. I’ve been in charge here so far. I guess with all the training I’ve had, it’s not so hard to do.”

“Something?” Yosuke looks away a moment in thought as he repeats the word. “I see.”

Immediately, he snaps back to and politely smiles for Monica. “Well, do give her my regards.”

Monica does not respond with more than but a nod. She waves to both you and Jonathan before departing back into the office. When she’s gone, Yosuke turns his head to Jonathan.

“Are you going to ask for a visit too?” He questions rather unhappily. Jonathan laughs.

“I wouldn’t say no, but I should talk with Nathaniel about it,” he answers happily. “We like to plan things out with each visit. Even if our roles aren’t complicated.”

“What if a Number wanted you to dress up in a ridiculous costume?” Yosuke raises a brow. “Would you do it knowing that it’d satisfy them?”

Jonathan rubs his chin in thought. “Hmm, I suppose I’d have my reservations about it, but I am willing to try most anything. Besides, you do realize that actors often play silly roles, right? I do recall a few rather embarrassing ones when I was a bit younger.”

“Surely Nathaniel found that entertaining,” Yosuke scoffs in amusement at the thought.

Jonathan blushes a bit. “He always teases me. But I do enjoy his company.”

“He is your type,” Yosuke remarks jokingly, teasing his coworker over his earlier words of conversation with Monica. Jonathan looks up in thought, while the gate behind him finally starts to grind open.

“I suppose there aren’t a lot of people here I would go for personally. But that’s only me. Now I know you’re not one for these conversations, but what about you?”

“Perhaps Vanessa’s the only one I’ve ever ‘tried out’, so to speak” Yosuke remains casual about his response. “And that’s likely never going to change.”

Jonathan’s boyish, amber eyes widen a bit in wonder. “Ah? I haven’t heard her name in a long while.”

He then procures a cheeky grin on his face. “Don’t let her hear you use it.”

“Trust me, I know better.”

Yosuke then finally nudges you a bit, signaling his intent to put you down. He does so carefully, guiding your legs first to the floor before letting you steady yourself while gripping one of his arms tightly.

“You should go, dear,” he croons, cupping your bare cheek. When you look up at his face, you notice a remarkable lack of a tender smile that he usually gives when he lets you go. He’s rather straight-faced, though calm. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, but don’t bother to linger much on it.

Yosuke’s hand glides under your chin then, and he leans in for a quick peck. “Have a good day.”

You catch sight of Jonathan observing your doctor’s affectionate interaction with you with a raised brow. His arms have now shifted, and he’s cupping one elbow with one hand, while the other remains curled beneath his chin, knuckles used as a tender perch for his head. He says nothing, but gives Yosuke a friendly smile. Only when you enter the gate and are shut off from the other doctors does your own start to walk off, leaving you with Jonathan.

“Something on your mind?” He asks when you don’t immediately run off. You keep your head down, not bothering to turn to face the man but not quite eager to leave just yet. Being alone with Jonathan provides an opportunity to get information about your friends.

“Have the twins been okay?”

“The twins?” Jonathan sounds rather surprised. “I suppose they’ve been alright. They’re apparently going through a bit of a dissonance, which is a shame, since Nathaniel and I did really like knowing that they found solace in one another. We do care for them, after all. We want them to both be happy.”

“I’m guessing they’re both here?”

Jonathan chuckles gently. “No, unfortunately. Nathaniel’s dear princess is staying in her chambers today. I believe she has a few suitors. My Number is here, however.”

You wince at the mention of this, knowing what he really means. His euphemism is equally as bothersome, especially when the word “princess” sits so horribly in your ears after everything you’ve endured with Lucius. Yosuke’s attempt to reclaim it the other night hardly helped.

“You people love to toss that pet name around, don’t you?”

“It’s a common, darling little epithet,” Jonathan admits. “Some use it more crudely, but some try to be charming with it. See, Nathaniel and I care for our Numbers much the same way as Yosuke cares for you. We do hold our Numbers dear. The only difference is that your doctor’s adoration of you is, ah, let’s say more intense than the kind we have for our own Numbers. I think his use of the word is different, but his intention is not.”

Finally, you turn yourself a bit, just enough to get a good look at Jonathan. He’s still in his place by the office door, but lets his amber eyes meet yours. His lips curve in a charming smile when he sees you.

“You said once that I’m receptive to that stuff. Is that the case for most of the girls here?” You question with unease.

“Many young women like to be little princesses,” is the gentle doctor’s sweet response. “Even some young men can be left blushing at such precious affection. In my experience, even the tougher ones sometimes grow weak at the knees at being courted with sweet words. Sometimes it’s because they secretly like it, other times it’s because it’s simply too embarrassing for them to process. But everyone is different. Someone like your friend Eight absolutely hates that kind of thing. Someone like your friend Four adores it. She’s been the most responsive since she is the most accepting of what we do.”

Your head shakes in disbelief. “Nobody who seems okay with what you do to them is actually okay with it.”

“But pretending does make it easier,” Jonathan refutes your words, his smile still present upon his face. “There is nobody here who doesn’t suffer, Ten. We know that.”

You scowl. “Does that apply to you and your group?”

While readjusting his rather large frames by its outer legs, and guiding the slipped spectacles back atop the bridge of his nose, Jonathan gives a half-hearted laugh.

“Sometimes.”

Not knowing what else to say, you decide to leave the conversation at that. Rather than immediately try looking for anyone, you opt to check the cafeteria. Admittedly, you are a tinge in the mood for something to eat.

Jonathan hardly bothers to stop you, nor does he take offense to your decision to leave without any parting word. The brief conversation between the both of you only rattles your mind. The doctors probably have suffered a lot in their lifetime, but that hardly warrants full sympathy or apology for their actions. Besides, what’s in their pasts hardly has to do with what’s happening to you. If anything, whatever they’ve come to deal with in their life has simply led them to this point in time.

Now you wonder whether anything in your life led to this moment. You’d always assumed that The Overseer had Lucius pluck you from the real world for his horrible little experiment. Why you, though? Why anyone in particular? It’s difficult to really process an answer with only small fragments of it within your reach. Attempting to think too hard about it and where you were before all this again brings the static sensation in your head, which you immediately try to put a stop to by focusing on something else.

Entering the cafeteria now, you’re left disappointed. Nobody’s really around, but you figure it’s worth trying to see how Charlie’s doing now that you’re here.

Upon approaching the counter, you then tap a bit on the hard surface of the pane and attempt to garner Charlie’s attention. There’s hardly any stirring heard, though. Maybe he’s busy?

“Charlie?” You call. Only when your voice rings out does shuffling follow. It sounds uncharacteristically like what you’ve heard before, but you aren’t quite sure why.

In a few moments, a small sliver of paper pops out from under the pane, though it only peeks out a little. There’s writing on it, but it hasn’t been stuck out enough for you to fully read it. Supposing it’s just a mistake, you try to slip two fingers over the sliver of paper to pull it forward more.

Without a single second of time to process it, a pale hand comes out from beneath the pane and grips your wrist tightly. Frightened by the sudden action, you let out a loud gasp and attempt to pull away, but the hand pulls right back. A part of your forearm is forced into the slit between the counter and the pane, the movement causing your body to hunch down a bit. At first, your other hand grips the edge of the counter, but once you’ve steadied yourself, you immediately wrap your fingers around your arm and attempt to tug back.

The hand, still tightly gripping your wrist, proves stronger. You’re unable to get away.

“Frightened?” A voice calls from behind the pane. It’s a horrifyingly familiar one, suave and low. “You’re predictable.”

Your eyes widen as they focus intensely on the surface of the covering before you. Speaking is suddenly hard to do, but it seems Lucius prefers it because he hardly gives you a chance to talk anyway.

“I came to let you know a few things,” he says without hesitation. “First, that your attempt at keeping your promise to him hasn’t gone unnoticed. He accepts the answer you gave the other prisoners. Both answers, rather.”

“Where’s Charlie?” You shakily demand, beginning to shiver.

“He’s not much pleased by your divulging more about the hall,” Lucius ignores your question. “But that can’t be helped. It was a minor oversight. Though, really, the others knowing about it doesn’t change a thing. My superior is simply particular about his secrets, that’s all. Still, he wants me to remind you to think better about what you say. Otherwise, you’re acting as expected.

“Other than the minor incongruency, and the ones he expects there will be in the future, he’s satisfied with how you’ve handled your return. Simply keep on staying quiet about the things he told you to, and you will be just fine. Don’t, and I will return to correct you.”

Lucius squeezes your wrist tighter. “By the way, you’re playing too kitsch a role for your doctor, princess. It really isn’t you. But it is wholly entertaining to see that frustrated look on your face before you cozy up to him against your will.”

“What did you do with him?” You again demand to know Charlie’s whereabouts, attempting to keep your breathing steady and focus yourself to avoid breaking down. Lucius lets out a frighteningly familiar laugh of amusement.

“The worker?” He questions in disbelief. “Why you all bothered to name something that is meant to die is beyond me. But if you are that concerned, then know that he’s simply sleeping off a due dose.”

Your brows upturn. If Lucius means what you think he does, then sleeping isn’t usually what comes right after a dose of a drug like that. If Charlie’s already tired…

“Did you—”

“Don’t ask what you don’t want to really know, girl.” Lucius sharply interrupts you. “He’ll be up and ready to keep serving you in a while. If you’re aching for some form of nourishment, then here.”

Something smooth and slightly waxy is pressed into your palm. Although you’re taken aback by the unknown item, your fingers instinctively wrap around it.

Finally, Lucius releases your wrist, and you immediately pull it back out from under the gap. What comes out to be in your hand is a red apple of some kind. This is only mildly assuaging.

“Are you going to stay here?” You question angrily. “Have you been here just waiting for me?”

“I do intend to wait for your chef to stop lazing around, yes,” Lucius responds bluntly. “What a boring duty this is, but I do have to linger here occasionally when he needs his doses.”

This only leaves you to wonder whether there were instances where Lucius was the one observing anyone here, rather than Charlie. The idea only leaves you nervous and with another pit in your stomach. How much has he heard from you all so up close? Were there instances where you met with Lucius and not Charlie?

“I did indeed expect that you’d arrive,” the man adds. “A weak girl needs her nourishment, does she not? Though, perhaps Micah gave you plenty of that. I’ve heard he’s quite enthused about feeding girls with his own body. I suppose I can’t speak against it when I don’t dislike it myself. You know that well, don’t you?”

You glower, and your lips tremble in frustration at the awful reminder of Lucius’ use of you. This hardly phases him. He only gives a scoff after bringing Micah up.

“He only barely injured you, didn’t he? I’ve come to learn that scars are his favorite gifts to give. But those little scratches pale in comparison to the treatment I gave you, don’t they, princess? That man is softer than he really lets on.”

You grip the apple tightly in your hand and bite your tongue at all these horrible words. You’re angry, and yet you have to remember to stay quiet with such a dangerous man.

Seeing you so pent up this way only leaves Lucius with a chuckle in his throat.

“You should eat,” he bids you. “I gave you a gift. Be thankful for it.”

“Did you poison it?” You demand.

“With what, exactly?” Lucius questions with curiosity. “You’re no Snow White. There’s no need for the wariness. I only came to deliver a message while fulfilling a task. Now eat.”

Gripping the fruit tightly in both hands now, you observe it’s shiny red exterior with nervousness. You don’t fight Lucius further and, while still trembling, bring the thing to your lips. In the back of your mind, you suspect that Lucius is pulling something. But when you really think about it, he’s probably just trying to bait you for the sake of a reaction. Bitterly, you bite into the fruit and take a sizeable chunk of it. Enough to satisfy the man’s order.

“Good,” you’re praised. “You still remember how to listen.”

After swallowing the chewed fruit, you open your lips to protest. But the moment you do, the doors on the other end of the room part. Your heart jumps, your irrational fear of someone discovering you like this coming through. You have to remind yourself that, so long as both you and Lucius remain quiet, nobody will know anything’s remiss.

When you turn your body a bit, you catch sight of Blue stretching an arm up and letting out a satisfied groan at the satisfaction stretching brings. She smiles when her baby blue eyes catch sight of you.

“Hey!”

You try not to let on that you’re frightened and try to smile back at her. Lucius has gone silent, though you know that he’s still right there behind the pane since he hasn’t audibly bothered to move away yet. Blue makes her way to you and frowns when she gets close enough to see your expression.

“Gee, you okay?” She asks. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I’m a little jumpy from my visit, that’s all,” you try to make up a lie. Well, maybe it isn’t wholly a lie. “I had to see Micah again.”

“Hmm, that explains the bandage,” the girl before you observes curiously. She then glances down at the fruit in your hand. “Oh fuck, that sounds perfect right now.”

“A-an apple?” You ask, stammering while still trying to calm down. Blue shrugs.

“I was gonna ask for something small anyway. Me and Vi have been dicking around in the crafts room since this morning. I didn’t really eat, but I don’t get all that hungry usually anyway.”

She then puts her hands on the counter and leans in a bit. “Hey Charlie! Can I get one of those too?”

Your eyes nervously shift toward the pane. What is Lucius going to do? Ignore her? Indulge her?”

There’s a bit of silence that falls after Blue’s request, and it’s only the rolling of another apple through the slit that interrupts it. Blue’s eyes light up, and she swipes the fruit eagerly.

“Ah thanks!” She perks up. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Without hesitation, she chomps on her apple, gushing about its sweet flavor.

“I love it when they give us fresh fruits and stuff,” she sighs. “I mean meals are great too, just not all the time.”

Your beating heart starts to still when you hear Lucius step away. Finally, he’s leaving you alone. Thank fuck.

Blue’s presence probably bored him away. If she hadn’t shown up, you’re not sure what more he’d have done. You could practically kiss the girl right now.

“So how bad was he, anyway?” She asks, taking you aback.

“W-what?”

“Micah, I mean. Duh?”

Of course.

“Um, no different than usual,” you mumble, trying to gather yourself again. “He tied me up this time.”

“He’s a little kinky,” Blue shrugs. “I think it’s kinda hot, but I’m not totally into the rough stuff all the time. Sometimes I just gotta pretend I’m into it.”

You feel odd conversing so casually about this with her, but this casual banter is hardly out of place for the girl.

Your eyes drop to the apple in your hand. Though you’re admittedly famished, you don’t really have the heart to eat more of it after encountering Lucius again. You probably will want to avoid eating until later, when you’re absolutely sure he’s not here anymore.

“How do you even do that?” You ask. “Pretend? I always hate it. Sometimes I feel good when they tease me, but I hate why I feel good.”

Making casual conversation about this subject is especially nerve-wracking when you aren’t sure if Lucius is still listening or not. Though, does it really matter? He’s always heard everything you say on camera. He, Gale, and The Overseer all. So why feel ashamed when Lucius is here personally? It’s no different.

Blue shrugs. “Hey, it’s not easy. I told you I struggled with it before. I just had to lie enough. But look, not every girl is gonna like being a big slut. I get that. But when the people here fuck you and go ‘oh yeah baby does that feel good?’, you just sorta moan ‘yeah’ if it does. It gets them off, sure, but it might end up getting you off too. Might as well enjoy it yourself if they are. Why let them have all the fun?”

She takes another ungracious bite of her apple, hardly struggling to break the meat of it.

“And what if it doesn’t feel good?” You ask, downtrodden.

“Then don’t say anything,” Blue shrugs. “They get mad if you reject them, so it’s better not to. Like, yeah, that’s kinda the shitty part about it, but oh well. If it means you can get off on the other stuff, then fine. I’m sure in the real world you can be more vocal about what you don’t like with whoever you sleep with, but we don’t have that luxury.”

You groan, unable to accept all these words. Blue merely rolls her eyes.

“Look, sex is sex. I like how it feels,” she asserts. “But if it really is that much of an issue for you, that’s not wrong. But you’re stuck in this mindset that enjoying yourself means you’re some filthy whore because maybe you let those guys make you believe that’s true. You don’t have to be dirty to enjoy your body. You can still have your moral principles or whatever, but still like how it feels to get off.

“Take baby steps if you really want to try enjoying it, though. You especially. But if you let all the men have fun and do nothing but cry, you’re gonna have a shit time. I guess that sounds harsh or something, but it’s the only way I can put it.”

“I guess you have a point,” you don’t fight it. “But I just can’t really be like you. And I mean that as a compliment to you.”

“But it feels good sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“And you like it sometimes?”

You blush and nervously look away. “…Yes.”

“And you still know you hate these assholes despite that?”

You glower. “Absolutely.”

Blue takes one last bite of her apple which has, by now, become mostly a shriveled core. With her mouth still a tinge full, she gives a shrug and asks,

“Then what’s the problem? You’re still you or whatever. You can smile and fuck at the same time if you want to. Not all the time if you don’t, but it might make you feel good to say you like something now and then. Most of the time their dirty words are just fun talk for them, but If they genuinely try to shame you for being a slut, that’s their problem.”

“Yet you actively admit to being one?” You raise a brow at this suggestion. Blue nods after swallowing her last bit of apple.

“Absolutely. I’m a big fucking slut and I don’t care. Not everyone can afford to live that way, which is fine and all. But I’m not gonna let people make me feel bad for giving in a little—neither anyone here who can’t take that I like it, nor anyone out there who wants to make fun of me for taking a fat cock with a big horny smile on my face.

“Besides, I’m not all sex-crazed all the time. Eight used to think I was just giving up on myself by doing what I do. Maybe he even mistook my super chill personality with me being constantly horny ‘cause he was such a repressed asshole then, I dunno. But I’m still me regardless of where I am. I know how to turn on and off at a whim. It’s not hard. Lav does it too, she just does it with herself. Like, the whole self-fulfillment thing she does.”

“You can just call it masturbation,” you raise a brow. Blue laughs.

“I was being nice. You usually hate talking about this stuff.”

This takes you aback. You’ve always disliked conversing so casually about this sort of thing, but you’re surprised how easily it’s coming to you right now.

“I—yeah, I guess so. I still don’t feel comfortable with it all the time, but…”

Blue grins. “But you’re getting used to opening up, stupid! I’m surprised. Impressed, even. You can still be a little reserved if you want, though. I mean, If I ever make you that uncomfortable, just say so. You have snapped at me before.”

“Sorry,” you blush. “It was a weird time for me then. I mean—it’s still a weird time. I just…”

“Yeah, yeah, it always is with you,” Blue scoffs. She moves to the wastebasket in the room to try discarding her apple, and you sort of wind up just following her on the way. Not like you have any eagerness to stay here anyway. “Look, you’re doing pretty good. You’ve always had the capacity to be pushy and say what you want, you just sort of struggled to do it because being here and being controlled made you feel like shit. I get it. I was there.”

She frowns. “I don’t wanna be there again. Ever.”

You don’t comment on her grave shift in mood, nor does Blue even bother to linger on it much. She picks herself right back up, returning to her usual demeanor without a second thought. Heaving a sigh, the blonde girl puts her hand on her hips.

“Anyway, I’m gonna head back to the crafts room,” she says. “Join us if you want, but I think Vi might get tired of doing art stuff soon. She doesn’t have patience for it like me. And honestly, having my own downtime to draw is really nice. Maybe I’ll send her your way if you don’t come by. You two can bitch about Micah together or something.”

You can’t help but laugh a little. After the frightening brush with Lucius, this comes much to your relief. “We’ve bitched about him before. But sure. I might hang around a bit myself. I’m not sure who else is here, other than Two since I saw his doctor outside.”

“Oh yeah,” Blue ponders this a moment. “He stopped to say hi, but then fucked off somewhere. Lav was here earlier too, but she got picked up for a visit. But it’s still kinda early I think, so who knows who might show up.”

She pats your back. “Anyway, seeya.”

Blue leaves you alone, and you don’t wait around yourself for Lucius to call out to you, provided he’s still there and eager to.

The apple in your hand remains uneaten other than the one bite. A bite isn’t super fulfilling, but right now, it’s all you want. You’d rather not keep eating the thing since it was Lucius who gave it to you. Without a second thought, you toss it in the trash and walk out when it’s been long enough for Blue to have made it to the other room.

Looking over by the garden doors, you can’t help but wonder how Cyrus is doing. He probably isn’t here today, but you want to give him a little space so that he can focus on repairing himself. Hopefully he does hold out and start meditating again soon. You’ll check on him when you can.

The hall is empty. Quiet, even, though it doesn’t stay that way long. When you walk closer toward the opposite side of the hall with all the other rows of doors on it, you hear loud, muffled yelling coming from behind those leading to the arcade. In a hurry, you immediately run in, hoping that nobody’s been hurt.

Frankly, you’re not sure what you expected. The yelling hadn’t much sounded particularly frightening or agonizing. Desperate, perhaps, but not worrisome. It was just the mere sound of it that startled you enough to want to spring into action.

Rather than be met with a dire situation, you’re instead met with Two, hunched over one of the game cabinets in defeat. One hand hangs from a joystick on his right, while the other clutches the edge of the button panel.

You sigh, having been brought here in worry over something so stupid.

“Did you lose?” You ask, stepping closer to the young man. His head turns to the right enough for his face to be more visible.

“Ten, I fucking hate this game,” is all Two groans, his eyes filled with defeat. “I’ve been trying to beat it for days now in my off time.”

“Can’t help you,” you shrug. “Don’t know a thing about games.”

“Wanna try?”

You pout. At first, you give a blunt “no”, but eventually do wind up taking hold of the joystick when Two steps aside to urge you to give it a go. It’s fairly simple, you find—some pixelated adventure game wherein you control a man and guide him through a series of obstacles. Guiding the character isn’t much hard, nor is dodging any particular obstacle.

“I don’t get it,” you say. “This isn’t too bad.”

“It gets so much harder,” Two refutes your shrugging off of this game. “It baits you basically. It’s also one of those games where if you die, you have to start the entire game over. It sucks.”

As if to mock you, the man you’re guiding is taken by surprise by a pitfall trap, and you wind up dying. This hardly bugs you, though. You can’t get behind the simplistic looking thing anyway.

Your hand doesn’t leave the joystick even as a rather obnoxious GAME OVER flashes on the screen.

“Why this game in particular, anyway?” You question. “It seems a little pointless.”

Two shrugs and leans an arm atop the cabinet, then leans his own forehead against his arm. “I’ve been wanting to try out every game here. I guess I’ve had a lot more time to since Three isn’t around as much. So I’ve been trying to finish most games. A lot of them are pretty short and easy, but this one is one of those old unfair games that makes things hard. So it’s been nerve-wracking.”

You frown. “She’s not here today, is she?”

Two’s cheek puffs out a bit. “No. We haven’t really been arriving together lately. So I’ve had more chances to do stuff I want, not just what she wants.”

“Like the craft stuff?” Your hand finally leaves the joystick. The game screen flashes its title now, awaiting someone to start playing the cabinet again. Two mindlessly looks down at its buttons, his brown eyes now reflecting a quiet sadness.

“I mean, I like that stuff too,” he says. “I like acting with her and reading dumb books with her…anything, really. She likes games too, just not as much as I do. So we were never in here a whole lot. I always ended up doing what she wanted whenever she wanted it. But I always went along with it because I wanted her to smile.”

“But you’re not going along with it anymore,” you point out. Two shakes his head.

“I still see her, I just…don’t hang out with her all the time now. I have a friend I really get along with and so she’s not sure how to deal with that.”

He sighs and moves to sit on the ground, his back against the bulkier bottom half of the arcade cabinet. Quietly, you opt to join him.

“Am I selfish?” He asks. “I mean, I don’t think I can be attached to her forever. It’s not like I don’t still love her. I’m just not in love with her. You know, the whole thing I brought up yesterday.”

You bite your lip and look away. “…Yeah. I know. But I don’t think you’re selfish for wanting to have a sense of individuality. We all need our own voice. I still feel like I can’t find my own sometimes. So I’ve always bounced off of everyone else. I’ve just been here, not really as myself. Not always.”

“You feel that way too?” Two looks over at you with surprise. You nod.

“I’m a little jealous that everyone here has a skill that they can hold fast to. I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t even know anything. So I get that much. I just don’t know where to start. You, however, seem to have already found something that you like and that separates you from your sister. So I think you’re doing pretty good on that, even if it is a small thing. And you know, it isn’t wrong to take a break from someone if you need to. I wouldn’t say you’re selfish for it.”

Two frowns. “I feel like I’m getting annoyed with her, though. I don’t want to be. It’s just that, now that I’m taking more time away from Three, I’m really self-aware of her presence all the time. And now it’s just starting to bug me whenever she comes and bothers me about all this without even having to say it out loud. She’ll just show up and I get mad. I don’t wanna be mad.”.

He leans forward on his elbows, pressing them into his knees. Two’s hands clasp around the sides of his head in frustration.

“God, and the sex stuff…”

This presents an awkward situation for you. It’s unfortunate you’re the only one Two can talk to about this particular issue, but you won’t back away from the guy now. “I think maybe she just really wants someone to be close to because she feels so lost here.”

“I just wish it weren’t me,” Two mutters. “I hate this stuff. I don’t like thinking about romance because it’s stressful. I mean maybe I’d be interested in going out with a girl, but I’ve only ever had experience in sex against my will, or with my sister. It feels like I’m doing something wrong here. It’s fucked.”

He sighs.

“I don’t want her to think I’m the only person in the world who can be there for her. I love her so much, but I can’t be the only thing in her life that makes her happy. She’s been forgetting that I need space too. Like, yeah I’m her brother and I have to take care of her, but I can’t do everything myself. She’s leaning too much on me and I don’t know what to do. Not to mention how much she just seems to want to be with only me. This place is really fucking us both up. We never had problems like this before.”

“I really don’t know what to say,” you admit, the uncomfortable pit in your stomach rolling on. “I can’t speak from a sibling standpoint or as a guy. All I can bring up is the fact that maybe Three’s just struggling to accept all this even long after you guys have experienced it. Everyone adapts differently.”

“She hasn’t adapted at all,” Two tells you forwardly. “She’s still so timid. She can break so easily. I don’t want her to because, really, I still need her too. But I also can’t stand her all the time. Not lately. That’s why I feel so selfish.”

Two’s hands drop then, and he puts them down on the floor while tipping his head back against the cabinet. “I know we need to be there for each other in a place like this. I’ve always tried to give her what she wants and needs, but now I want something and it’s killing her.”

“Do you think she’s the one being selfish, then?” You ask. Two shakes his head.

“No. This is a godawful place. I know I laugh a lot, but it’s hell here. I can’t blame her for being the way she is. People like Violet were just acting out because of all this horrible stuff. Even people in our old group were just lashing out for that reason. They were all so frustrated and scared and miserable. Three? She’s just miserable too. She smiles a lot, but you don’t know how often she cries. Or, I guess Just how much more she does when nobody’s around.”

He winces, his face strained at the memory of her tears. “She used to cry and cry while laying her head in my lap or while I held her. Once, I remember her even saying she didn’t think living was worth it, especially after some of the others in our first group started disappearing. It took me a lot of convincing to get her back on track.”

You’re not surprised, but certainly disheartened. “…Really?”

“Cyrus isn’t the only one who suffered knowing how fatal this place was. He’s just experienced much more than we have.” Two pauses then, and shuts his eyes.

“I don’t want to think Three’s selfish, because if she is, so am I,” he says. “Watching her struggle hurts. I keep wanting to coddle her but end up reminding myself that I can’t, or else I’m never going to break this cycle. But when I don’t help, I feel like I’m being cruel. So I still at least try to hold her when she really needs the affection. I still get intimate with her too. But it’s just awkward when we do it now because she starts acting like everything’s fine and talks about how she wants to stay with me.

“We can’t really manage to talk about anything else. Both of us want to talk about how we feel, but neither of us are really that great at expressing it in words. It’s just easier to put things aside and pretend it’s okay, or to just find some way to distract ourselves.”

Two pauses a bit and lets out a bothered breath, parsing what to say.

“Neither of us want to be mad at the other,” he affirms. “Neither of us wants to be sad, either. But we don’t know what to do. I can’t understand how to help my sister without feeding her dependency issues, and she doesn’t know how to let go and stand on her own two feet once in a while. She doesn’t even understand that I need to breathe or that I do so much for her because she’s just started to expect it. She gets excited by the idea of being happy around other people that she temporarily forgets where she is, and then it hurts her when she has to face it. So, she doesn’t want to face it. She doesn’t want to think about it.”

Two finally opens his eyes again, though his stare remains affixed upward.

“It’s all frustrating. So I just wanna play games and forget about it. And when Pickle shows up, I just wanna talk to him and forget about it. I can keep laughing with him. I can’t with her. Not right now.”

“You don’t want to let go, but you don’t want to be glued by her side,” you sum up. “You don’t know how to process that pain?”

Two shakes his head but does not give a verbal response. Seeing him look so defeated leaves your heart sinking. You reach out a hand and place it gently over Two’s, a gesture which he does not at all fight or shy away from.

“I know what it’s like to want to be left alone and not want to think about all this,” you say. “I guess it’d be of no help to say you can’t really run from it. And Cyrus may know better than all of us how difficult this place is, but you sure know better than I do since you’ve been here nearly just as long. You and Three should give yourself more credit on that. But I don’t think it’s bad to want things. This facility drives everyone insane one way or another. We all end up wanting our own spaces, or else we just want to be held and comforted.

“We suffocate here with all the unwanted attention from the doctors. All the awful things they make us do so that they can feel good and stop giving a shit about social rules or their own problems or whatever the fuck else their motivations are for doing all this that aren’t just money. In your case, it’s not just the doctors you feel are suffocating you though. Is it?”

“No.”

You sigh. “I won’t lie—I have no real idea how to approach this. It’s not far off from the problem Violet had being attached to Cyrus, but her circumstance was so different, even if the feelings are similar. Like Three, she felt rejected. Meanwhile, Cyrus didn’t want to hurt her by being honest, the way you don’t want to hurt Three by doing the same. But you have a sibling here. It’s hard to fully relate or help because nobody else has what you do, and if they have ever had a sibling, they really just don’t remember. I think the bond is even stronger because of that. So then, conflict is also just as strong when it happens. It’s not easy, I’d imagine.”

“Don’t remember…” Two parses the words. “If we’re being honest, then I’ve had that thought myself.”

You raise a brow. “Which?”

“Not remembering her,” your companion says simply, his voice low. “But I couldn’t really forgive myself for the grief that would cause. It’s just a small fantasy. Not having to suffer over all this would be great, really. Is that wrong? Is that like, me running away from a situation?”

You look away. “I’d say it’s conceptually wrong to push someone away for no reason just so you don’t have to deal with something. But in this case, I don’t think it’s wholly bad. I mean, you and Three are facing the same feelings—you don’t want to approach the awful. You keep saying she’s timid and afraid to embrace this place, yet you’re also timid and afraid to embrace bad things too despite thinking you have to be stronger so as to carry her.

“It’s not like wanting to put something aside when it’s too stressful is wrong, it’s just that you have to know when to come back to it rather than continue avoiding it. I’ve avoided lots of things myself, and it’s never really gone the direction I wanted it to. As for bad thoughts? That’s okay sometimes too if they’re just thoughts. You’re really not the only one who’s ever had them. I can guarantee that much.”

You’re again reminded of Violet. Her own desires in her moment of grief at that point in time, you assert, were selfish. Both twins both might even be thinking selfishly, but it’s not like what they want is awful in itself. Two wants more independence, and Three wants to be close to someone, though both are going about it the wrong way. Two is becoming irritable and rather than exploring ways for him and Three to stay at a distance without being separated entirely, whereas Three wants to be coddled and doesn’t seem to notice how that affects those who have to do it. Or, if she does, maybe she just ignores it on purpose. You aren’t sure.

“It still feels wrong,” Two sighs. “But even for as mad as I get when Three pecks about wanting to be together or about why I’m so close with Pickle and not her as much, I still couldn’t ever abandon her. I said I love her, and I do. I won’t ever leave her. Even if I’m raging mad about anything, I’m still going to protect her when I can. When she really needs me. And I know she’s a timid girl, but I know she’d fight for me too, just in her own way.

“It’s just that lately, she hasn’t been able to see that I’m suffering just as much as her. She’s lovesick. She wants someone she trusts to love her so that she can stop thinking about the fact that people are constantly raping her. Abusing her.”

Two’s brows crinkle and furrow as he relays this.

“But she forgets that they’re doing the same to me. Just because I hide away my sadness and my anger doesn’t mean I’m not still sad and angry. I’m like Blue, where I just don’t wanna be that way. I don’t like the way it makes me feel when I have to think about it. Maybe Three thinks I’m tougher because of what she sees instead of what she doesn’t.”

You frown. “You sound a lot like him, you know.”

“Cyrus…?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I guess that makes sense since the both of you have been here so long. You might just be picking up on some of his worst habits by hiding away the suffering, if in a different way than him. But don’t forget that you’re still vulnerable too. It’s okay to be. Nobody here is safe from feeling like shit.”

“It’s just touchier because I’m a guy, I guess,” Two mutters. “We have to be stronger.”

You shake your head. “No you don’t. Everyone thinks Cyrus is strong, but he cries too. But he definitely doesn’t like anyone to see him that way, that’s for sure. You guys really don’t like to make your feelings clear, do you?”

“You wouldn’t get it.” Despite the frustrated look on his face earlier, Two tries weakly smiles. “Anyway, sorry that I’m dumping this all on you. I know there’s only so much you can do. I just…I can’t tell anyone else about all the super intimate stuff.”

This statement makes you go silent a moment. It’s not like you disagree, but you’re starting to wonder whether keeping all this a secret is more trouble than it’s worth when this is how Two acts when saving face isn’t possible anymore.

“Maybe you should,” you finally opt to say. This makes Two go wide-eyed and look over your way in disbelief.

“What? Why?!”

“Maybe you think it’s wrong and that everyone knowing would tarnish your relationship with them,” you attempt to explain. “But I guarantee they’d understand.”

“No way,” Two blushes. “Not just because it’s embarrassing, but because I don’t want them to look at me or my sister weirdly.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that at least one person suspects you two of fooling around,” you shrug. “I won’t say who, but they did tell me they’d understand why you do it even if they don’t agree with it in concept.”

Maybe this was the wrong thing to say, because now Two is cradling his head in his hands and groaning.

“Fuck…”

“Two, I’m sorry!” You apologize in a hurry at his reaction. “M-my point is that we all know this place is fucked up so it’s not like…”

You trail off and sigh. “…It’s not like we’d think less of you. We all have dependencies in one way or another. We need each other. So it’s not surprising that we’d latch onto one another. And because you two are siblings, you already have a close bond. Besides, if that person figured out that you might be doing stuff in secret, I don’t suppose others wouldn’t guess it too.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, I am actively trying to make you feel worse,” you jest. Two responds merely with another groan, making you giggle a bit. “Look, what I mean is that if there’s a chance even more people suspect it, then that means they still respect you enough to treat you like a person. They’ve gone all this time loving you regardless. Right? If it’s not the case that they do suspect it, then even if you were to tell them on your own, they’d probably be shocked but then get over it. You’re still their friend.”

“I guess,” your friend finally bothers to speak words again. He lowers his hands back down, this time deciding to fold his arms. “But what am I supposed to do about Three loving me so much that she actually wants to be more romantic? She’s been on me so much lately. I feel like I’ve made it worse by coddling her. I don’t wanna stop helping her, but…”

“I can’t say it’s the best idea to keep doing it,” you admit. “I personally would vote that you stop fooling around with your sister. But I can’t make that decision for you two. That’s something you need to discuss on your own.”

“And what if we decide to keep going?” Two questions. “I know it might be embarrassing for you to hear, but I like the feeling, holding someone close. I guess even I have my attachment to it, but I do feel like I’m doing something wrong because it’s her.”

You shrug. “If you want to keep going, then that’s your decision. But it has to be both your decisions. Not just yours, and not just hers. You need to at least start by talking to her about how you feel and stop avoiding bringing up that kind of discussion because you hate the feeling it gives you. That’s not really healthy. Not for either of you.”

“But feelings suuuck,” Two groans, again leaning his head back against the console. You can’t help smiling a little.

“I know. But you guys in the group need to stop being so tight-lipped about them. It’s a recipe for disaster. Granted, us girls have tended to hold stuff in too. Even I still do sometimes.”

Your face grows downtrodden, then, as you’re reminded of all the secrets you still have to keep from everyone about where you’ve been and what you endured. There’s usually reasons for people to hold things in, you’ve come to find. But it still such a difficult thing that leaves you guilt-ridden.

At the very least, you’re glad to know The Overseer wasn’t so bothered by what you did divulge. You have to keep showing him you won’t cause trouble to ensure your safety. Though, you’re not sure you can handle regular pop-ins from Lucius like that. You know just as well as The Overseer that mistakes will still be made. And, even though you managed to focus on other things to distract from the fear you felt at Lucius’ unexpected emergence, it’s hard not to be on your toes. Will he continue to see you in the cafeteria, or was this an isolated circumstance? What other ways might he come vex you, and for what reasons?

Regardless, you try to keep focused on the conversation and not let Two see you so bothered. “But you know, if it’s hard to talk to girls about your feelings, you guys should talk to each other more.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of hard when Eight keeps spewing smart-guy rants at us and Cyrus just acts all nonchalant about everything,” Two says with a pout. “I need more reaction than a literal book to the face or a series of vague life statements. What works for those two won’t always work for me.”

“Then how on earth did you guys get along that one time?” You remain dumbfounded. Two chuckles at the memory.

“Look, we’re all dumb, but when we finally get on the same brain wave, we get shit done.”

You shrug. “Fine. I guess I believe it.”

Two smiles to himself, then. “That’s kind of why I’m glad Pickle’s around. He’s a lot like me sometimes. He’s not a genius and he’s not nonchalant about everything. He’s balanced for someone like me. He and I can just talk without a problem when we’re alone.”

He shakes his head. “Anyway, thanks for listening, Ten. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t expecting to be open like that with you.”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean you can’t be,” you tease. Two blushes.

“Ah, anyway, I know I should talk to Three. I just don’t know what the hell to say.”

“She’s your twin. I’m sure she’s feeling the exact same way,” You say with a raise of your brow. “Just don’t overthink it. Be yourself and say what comes to you. And you’re welcome, by the way. I know you’re stressed, and I worry when I see anyone here that way. All of us get stressed in this place. I’m still pretty fucked up right now, if I’m being honest.”

Your hand grazes your wrist where Lucius grabbed you. The memory of the event continues to leave you a bit nervous, but you suppose it’s not worth lingering on more. Lucius must have left the cafeteria by now. Though, you wonder if there’s another entrance into the kitchen that isn’t just from the door in the cafeteria. Lucius would have to exit quietly without being seen by anyone, after all.

Two then frowns again. “Right…it’s only been a day since you came back. Have you been doing okay? I saw the bandage on your cheek. I’m sure that wasn’t there yesterday.”

“Micah’s handiwork,” you remark unpleasantly. You bring your knees up and hunching lean against them. “He was a bit rough today. But I’ve come to expect pain at this point. I’ll make do.”

“I feel bad for Violet that she’s his,” Two mutters. “She used to struggle so much with him from what I heard. I mean, she still does, but she’s apparently been doing a lot better these days. Guess all her grief was in her hair. What’s up with that?”

You chuckle. “Couldn’t tell you. I guess Pickle would know best how good it feels to cut one’s hair.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Two huffs. “He’s actually asked about cutting mine. I let him once, but there’s not really a lot to maintain anyway. Plus, my doctor usually takes care of it.”

You blush at thinking of Jonathan again. “How is he with you?”

Two rolls his eyes around uncomfortably. “He’s not mean, at least. Just…awkward. I don’t like men. But he and Nathaniel see me just as much as Three, so I have to put up with their weird games.”

“And you still like acting even then?”

“Well, I guess it’s because it feels good to do it when it’s not for sex,” Two supposes with a shrug. “But me and Three both just like making up stupid stuff. It’s fun. I like the stage and playing dumb characters. I’m probably not some cool actor or anything, but it’s something I can do on the fly. Improvisation and all that. It’s something even our doctors can’t disgust us out of.”

He exhales strongly through his nose. “I guess that’s something I miss. I wanna be stupid on stage with her again. I just didn’t like what she pulled last time we were up there, like I told you yesterday. I don’t mind fantasy stuff, but then she keeps making herself play the role of like a maiden or something. I’m not into that.”

“Then tell her. Sounds like you haven’t even tried to if you’re bringing it all up with me and not her. Does she know?”

“No,” Two grumbles. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do. But maybe she needs a girl to talk to her too, like how I need a guy.”

“If you promise to talk to her yourself and be more open about this with the other guys whenever they can bring themselves to get together, I promise to help out with Three,” is your only response to this. “Deal?”

Two shrugs. “Alright, deal. But what about the whole, um…telling people thing?”

“I’m not gonna force you to.” You shake your head. “it’s just something I think you should consider. Maybe you don’t have to talk about it with everyone if you don’t want to and utilize that whole ‘male solidarity’ thing instead.”

“Oh.” Two seems hesitant even with that suggestion.

“In any case, If you don’t, so be it. But if others who don’t know do find out, it might end up making things worse for you and lead to more confrontation you don’t like. But I do wonder—how can you have gone this long without anyone walking in on you? And who’s to say they never even did if I walked in on you that soon after arriving?”

Two blushes. “Yeah…alright. But I won’t say anything without her permission. You said we both need to come to agreements on things, and that’s definitely one of those things.”

You nod, but say nothing else and instead focus on the blue arcade floor. It’s even darker in such a dim light, though its color mainly shines with the glowing lights of the arcade cabinet screens that hit it. After a long silence, Two asks,

“What about you?”

“Huh?” You turn your head toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you’re a girl. Do you like that stuff? Romance and marriage and all that junk. Maybe you can tell me why she does.”

You blush. “Well, I don’t know. I like the idea of It. Being loved and held does feel good.”

“So girls really do like that stuff?”

Two’s question makes your eyes roll a bit. “It’s not just girls who do, and not all of them. We may have some common interests sometimes, but we’re all pretty different. Hell, some guys can be hopeless romantics too, I’m sure. But…yeah, I like the feeling of being loved. It’s just that with my doctor being crazy obsessed with me, it’s hard to enjoy affection the way I want. As for marriage…”

Your words trail off as you struggle to find a way to explain this. Hell, you aren’t really even sure how to feel in general. Between the awful wedding dream and the vows you remembered and all this talk of family life from your doctor, the idea is nearly soured in your mind.

“I struggle with it,” is what you choose to say. “I never really even thought about being married. But I’ve had weird dreams and weird things come to my head that scared me. And again, Yosuke doesn’t help. I feel like I can’t enjoy the concept of marriage now because of him. It feels…fetishized.”

“Why?”

“Dominance,” You answer bluntly, wholly surprised Two isn’t understanding it. “Yosuke wants me to be his. He never really explicitly said anything about marrying me, but he’s teased at me being that way before. And then he’s talked a lot about getting me pregnant and his want to have a family, in his own twisted way. I’m sure it’s just because he wants to own me, not really because he genuinely wants those things. But I can’t claim to know what that man thinks.”

“That’s really gross,” Two comments with a pout. “I don’t think I could ever be so obsessed with anyone that I’d be a total creep. I have no idea how anyone gets that way, even when they like someone a lot.”

“Have you ever liked anyone?” Your brow raises. Truly, you only ask this because you want to steer the subject far away from what’s leaving you uncomfortable. Unfortunately, this only makes Two uncomfortable himself, as he starts to blush and look away.

“Um…you promise not to say anything?”

“I’m not a gossip,” You assure him. “I promise. But only tell me if you want to.”

Two’s eyes roll around as he contemplates this answer. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone that way, but in my old group, I did think Amber was pretty. I never really cared to seek her out or anything, especially since she was kind of a jerk sometimes. But anyway, like I said, I don’t really get the point of commitment in a place like this. I’m sure if I cared enough to romance a girl here I could by being my dumb self. I mean, I’m a charming guy. I think.”

You giggle. “Oh yeah? Though, I think most everyone here is either occupied or just not interested. You’d be out of luck if you tried.”

“Ow, my heart.” Two clutches his chest dramatically. It seems he’s just as eager to get out of the discomfort of the discussion as you are. “But honestly, I don’t really see anyone here as someone I’d go for. No offense.”

“None taken. I don’t know if you’re my type either.”

“Now that’s just rude.” Two huffs with laughter. Though, his expression soon shifts back to a frown as a thought crosses his mind. “Anyway, marriage isn’t something I like to think about. I know I have no chance of finding anyone now that I’m trapped here. It’s not like I wouldn’t try dating if I could. I just…can’t. I won’t ever know what it’s like to live one of those lives you see people living in movies.”

“I’m not exactly sure about it myself,” you admit. “If I were to have never come here, maybe I’d have gotten married eventually. I don’t hate the concept itself. Or, rather, I didn’t once hate it. Now, I think it’d take me a long time to warm up to the idea of being that close to someone after all the shit I’ve been through. But I am comfortable with the people here. Our people, I mean.”

It’s probably not worth bringing up your feelings surrounding Cyrus and Lav, especially not if Two can gossip with Cyrus about anything you say of him. You don’t think he’s really the gossipy type, but if you’re willing to talk to Lav about a lot of your own feelings about Cyrus, you don’t doubt Two would be more open with the guys about any feelings he has toward anyone else.

Two sighs. “If we were to go out into the real world like this, we’d be fucked, huh?”

“Maybe,” you suppose. “But I’d rather be out there and struggle adapting to society again than stuck in here till I die. I just want to live a real life.”

Two’s eyes close. “Yeah. Same.”

Neither of you really bother to get up again after this. The long silence between the two of you is one you don’t mind, but evidently Two does. He’s not the type to want to sit still, really. So, rather than keep things too heavy, you try to lighten the mood by proposing that you play games together. Though Two knows without a doubt you don’t much care to play them frivolously, he hardly wastes a moment accepting your offer.

There proves to be far more a variety in games than you really remember. There are a volley of cabinets toting fighting games, racing games, adventure games, shooting games and more. Though you hardly care much for the stuff, you find the indulgence a bit fun.

After going at it a while, and in the middle of attempting to partner up in one adventure game, you’re joined by two more people. Walking through the opened doors of the arcade are Violet and Pickle, both of whom have some kind of sweet bread in their hands. Violet wastes little time in chomping down on hers.

“Oh hey, we were wondering where you two were,” Pickle remarks as he and his violet partner approach your side mid-game. With you and Two distracted then by the sudden arrival of your other friends, the game is lost. Two groans at the failure, though you hardly mind it.

“When did you get in?” You ask, turning your head their way. “I didn’t even hear the gate.”

“A while ago,’ Pickle shrugs. “I stopped by the crafts room to see who was around since I heard voices in there, and I found Blue and Violet drawing together.”

“I got tired of it, so I left,” Violet adds after swallowing down another gratuitous bite of her bread. You eye the thing rather hungrily. Not having eaten because of Lucius’ presence is now starting to take its toll. Violet takes note of your expression rather quickly.

“You want some?” She asks. “Didn’t you eat? Blue said she saw you in the cafeteria.”

“Um…no,” you shift your eyes uncomfortably away. “I guess I forgot.”

Violet laughs. “You really are a bit of a ditz, huh? Here.”

She breaks off the bottom portion of her bread, untouched by her mouth, and hands it to you. This, you’re more than grateful for, and you waste no time in thanking her and taking the sweet treat in your mouth. It’s warm, you find, and glazed with a sugary exterior that has a hint of cinnamon to it.

“It’s really fresh! you remark happily. Violet nods.

“Charlie just made it, so he says.”

Is that for sure? Unless you’re just overthinking it. Lucius wouldn’t make food this good, nor put effort into making it like this. He probably would just shove prepackaged goods at people if he had to give them something. After all, he merely gave you a whole fruit. This bread is definitely fresher and more like it had work put into it. Even if it isn’t true, you tell yourself that Charlie must have woken up and recovered from his dose.

How and If a worker can recover so quickly is beyond you, though. You slept a long time after your only dose of Red Valentine, especially since your body had been exerted so much. You’re not sure if that changes once one’s body gets accustomed to the drug, though you are equally unsure whether knowing would help you feel any better about it all.

“I stopped for a snack, and I saw Pickle in the cafeteria attempting to communicate with him for food,” Violet adds, her voice taking you out of more unpleasant thoughts.

“You make it sound like I was trying to contact alien life,” Pickle laughs. “Anyway, we decided to see what you guys were up to. I’m surprised you’re in here, Ten. I didn’t think you were into games.”

“Well, I guess I’m not,” you admit. “I just felt like keeping Two company.”

“He still stuck on that one game?” Pickle asks with a raise of his blond brow. Two pouts.

“Yeah, what of it? That thing’s hard!”

Pickle shrugs. “I couldn’t do any better either. I’m not great at games, but they are fun.”

“You just need practice,” says Violet with one last chomp of her bread. After swallowing it down, she adds, “Six and I sometimes come in here and play all the competitive ones. Though she’s been spending a lot more time with her girlfriend lately. Especially with all the music stuff they’ve been trying to learn from Eight.”

“Good for them.” A light smile forms on Pickle’s lips. “They seem really happy together.”

“Yeah, but I wish I knew what that was like,” Violet sighs. Two rolls his eyes around awkwardly after having professed what he did about the subject of romance to you. The remark takes you aback, and you give Violet a rather worried look. She picks up quickly why.

“I mean, I’m over you-know-what, don’t worry,” she assures. “It’s just that me and Blue have thought about that stuff sometimes. Oh well, I guess.”

She frowns then. “Speaking of which, how is Cyrus?”

“Yeah, you talked to him yesterday, right?” Pickle chimes in curiously. Now you’re put on the spot, it seems.

“Um, I don’t wanna tell too much out of respect for him, but he’s in a really bad place,” you say sheepishly. “But he’ll be okay. I hope. He at least was happy that I was back.”

Maybe “happy” isn’t the right word to use, but you’re not really sure how to sum up everything that had gone on between you two yesterday in a satisfactory way. Vague statements are all you have.

Violet looks away a moment, struggling with herself over something. Eventually, she decides to speak. “Well if you see him again, tell him we miss him.”

Of all the people in the room, you know well the importance of these words to Violet. You say nothing, but do give her a nod.

“Are you gonna ask to cut his hair too when he does?” Two jests toward his green-shirted companion. Pickle merely laughs.

“Maybe. Even if it’s just a really tiny trim, it’d be something I’m comfortable approaching people with. Plus, even a little time with him is better than none. It’d help me get to know him better.”

Two raises a brow. “You sure you weren’t like a barber in another life?”

“Well, wait—don’t barbers have to be like, adult age?” Violet questions this with a crossing of her arms, now that she’s empty-handed. “Pickle looks kind of young.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pickle replies unassuredly. Even he seems a bit confused by the concept of age as he assesses his hands and his body. “I don’t feel like a kid. I mean I know I’m short, but I’m definitely not kid short.”

“We’d need to see a real kid to be sure.” Two strokes his chin in thought, playfully mimicking a refined scholar. “But you seem like you might be my age. I feel like it, anyway.”

“Yeah, he’s as dumb as you are. Makes sense,” Violet jokes. Two takes no offense to this comment and laughs loud.

“Alright, alright!” He can’t help but be amused. “Anyway, you wanna play a few games with me, Pickle?”

The green-shirted young man perks up and gives a quick “yeah!”. All this time, he’d been politely nipping at his bread, but now that he’s got the chance to involve himself in something, Pickle wastes no time scarfing down the rest of it and rushing to follow Two as he heads to another nearby cabinet.

“Oh god, they’re gonna be at it a while,” Violet scoffs. “You wanna play something more relaxed in the meantime?”

You nod in agreeance at the idea. Something that isn’t stressfuly competitive or complicated sounds nice.

After a bit of looking-over, the both of you settle on a nearby cabinet for a relaxed co-op adventure game. It’s a little strange to maneuver using nothing but buttons since you’d gotten used to joysticks by this point, but you make do.

Things are straightforward for a while, and the game provides a good distraction from your earlier, less than joyful thoughts. You realize quite quickly how easy it is to go numb playing these games so much when you end up zoning out from everything so quickly. This only leaves you concerned knowing that Two’s just using games in his off time away from his sister as a means of avoiding the negative things he knows he has to face. Maybe he won’t admit it, but he and Cyrus are actually fairly alike that way.

You and Violet manage to push through the game and enjoy yourselves. But after a few levels, Violet can’t help but ask you something. She keeps glancing over at your cheek as she stands to your right.

“So, did Micah do that?”

“Yeah.” You don’t take your eyes off the screen at all, concentrating on the game while occasional happy cries from the boys emit on the other side of the room. Whatever they’re playing, they’re really into it. “He was as bad as I remember. Though, you know, he compared me to you just briefly. I guess I talked back too much?”

“He said that?” Violet is bewildered, though she keeps focused on the game like you. “Weird. I mean, I haven’t been as useless when he visits me. I’ve been being kind of a jerk around him. But I really think he prefers that over me laying there without responding.”

“He’s mentioned,” you grumble, dissatisfied by the memory. “Anyway, one cut isn’t much. I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you. I um…I saw all those scars you had on your chest the other day when I first came back. You worried me.”

“They’re just scars,” Violet asserts. Her voice sounds casual, yet you can tell it’s ladened with a bitterness you know well. “Pain is pain. I’d rather not keep shutting up if I feel like talking back, even if it costs me my skin.”

You frown. “You and me both, I guess. I can afford to talk back with Micah even if the consequence is a few wounds and me being frozen by fear for just that moment. There are other people I can’t be as biting with.”

“You mean Yosuke? Or worse?”

“Both. God forbid if I end up seeing Milos or Lilah.” You scowl. “They could really hurt me even if I know they can’t kill me.”

“No, both of them could kill you.” Violet’s sudden, grave words take you aback so much that you wind up halting your button presses, causing your character to die to an enemy.

“What…?”

“They’re capable of killing,” Violet explains. “I guess anyone here is, but Momma wouldn’t go that far unless she really, really had to, and then a lot of the other doctors would probably avoid it even if they were mad. I don’t know about your doctor, but Milos and Lilah are definitely the type that scream ‘murderous psychos’ to me. If it’s just a front to look threatening, it’s an effective one, because even I wouldn’t try to rile them up.”

The elaboration still doesn’t quell the sudden jumpiness of your heart. You turn to Violet and ask,

“And what about Micah?”

“I think Micah has more of a soft side than he lets on,” Violet supposes. Her own in-game character, no longer supported by you, eventually dies too when enemies overwhelm them. Your companion hardly cares though. Even she’s a bit distracted by the conversation now.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a bastard and he’ll still take you down if he really wants to. But even for as abusive as he can be, he doesn’t strike me as a full-on killer. Once, he might have. When I was afraid of everyone because I had no idea who they really were, I thought they were all capable of being killers. But I know better now. It’s a last resort for most. And as for Micah, I know him better than anyone here since he’s my doctor. He’s no killer.”

You can’t totally disagree. He’s been a bastard for certain, even willingly hurt you just because he could. But you aren’t sure he can bring himself to kill you even if he wanted to. After facing The Overseer and Lucius, the other doctors almost seem harmless by comparison. All but the small few, of course.

“Do you really know if Lilah has killed anyone? Or Milos?” You ask. Milos has undoubtedly killed before, if he was once ever The Overseer’s hitman and Lucius’ partner-in-crime during extractions. This, however, you can’t make known.

“I think…maybe,” Violet struggles to answer, squinting in concentration as if she’s not fully sure of it herself. “If they ever did, I don’t remember. Or maybe I just heard about it from someone.”

She pauses and glances over at the boys on the other side of the room as they let out another series of excited hollers. Violet heaves a sigh then.

“Whatever, it hardly matters. They’re not as bad with us as they were to others before us. I wonder if we’re really all that expendable if their boss doesn’t want us killed off that easily.”

You look away. “I doubt it. But I wouldn’t know. Never met the guy.”

“I’d be scared if I did,” Violet admits. “Maybe angry. I mean, what kind of person orchestrates a horrible operation like this?”

“One without a heart.” This is the only thing you want to say about it. Your words are laced with a bitterness that makes even Violet look at you with a worried gaze. She isn’t even really sure what to say, but another round of hollering from the boys distracts both of you.

“God, those two,” Violet huffs. “I mean, I guess I’m glad Two’s feeling okay-ish. I just wish Three was too.”

“I haven’t really talked with her about any of what’s been going on,” you say. “Hell, I’ve just barely come back. I feel like I have to mediate everyone so suddenly.”

Violet scoffs. “You don’t have to do anything. You just do it because you worry way too much. Anyway, I wish Two would at least go talk to his sister or something. I think he’s being a little selfish.”

“You do?” You’re surprised. “I don’t think either of them are wrong to want what they do.”

“I don’t disagree, but I do think Two’s forgetting that they both suffer,” Violet asserts, keeping her voice low so the boys don’t hear. “And I’m not saying it’s wrong to be a little selfish sometimes. We kind of need to be now and then. Being so selfless that you make self-destructive decisions isn’t practical.”

You’re certain she’s talking about Cyrus. The last words are laced with a special kind of hurt, Violet’s voice weary as it utters them.

“I’m not genuinely mad or anything, more a little disappointed,” Violet goes on, shaking herself away from some thought. “Two’s not sure how to approach conflict and yet he’s forgetting that he’s not the only one dealing with it. Three’s lowkey just freaked out and bothered by all this. She probably feels like it’s her fault and doesn’t want to feel like that. She’s trying to be present because she doesn’t know what else to do, but then Two gets mad about her being clingy and it’s just so frustrating to watch. And the longer Two puts things off, the worse Three’s going to feel.”

You look over at Violet’s slightly scowling face. Something about this whole situation has seemed to strike such a nerve with her.

“Do you resonate with Three?” You ask. “Is that it?”

Violet shakes her head.

“We’re not the same person, but I guess it’s just annoying to watch all this happen. What’s even more annoying is that neither of them are doing anything about it. But Two’s the one who’s pushing his sister away, so he’s the one who needs to come forward if he has a problem with how Three’s been coming so close. I’d imagine she’s just confused about what to do.”

The irony of Violet witnessing this situation from afar after having been in this situation prior, and how she’s forming the opinions she is now has not been lost on you. But you’d be hard-pressed to tease her that much over something she’s sensitive about herself.

“Have you talked with her?” You instead ask.

“A few times, but not much. She won’t open up as much about this for some reason. She just wants us girls to be there for her and hang out with her. I guess she wants to be included and have people around her.”

You laugh a bit. Now it’s just too easy. “Sounds like you.”

The remark only leaves Violet’s cheeks red. “D-does not! I just know a little bit about how she feels, that’s all!”

The young woman gives a huff and puts her hands on her hips. “Whatever. You wanna play this again, or should we go see what those two are clamoring about?”

You can’t help but smile. Violet’s being a bit more forward about things than you remember her being. She’s changed a lot on her own, certainly, but you can’t help but think Blue’s starting to rub off on the girl too if they’ve been hanging out more. Not like it’s a bad thing. Seeing Violet this way is preferable compared to how she was before.

Ultimately, you agree to go bother the boys again. Although you can’t help but feel a bit bad that you didn’t progress all that far in the game with Violet, the brief time was nice.

Two and Pickle are both intensely focused on a fighting game, one wherein they cooperate and fight against computer opponents rather than fight against each other. Pickle keeps clamoring about how he can’t figure out the controls while repeating the same move over and over, while Two urges him to keep trying since their opponent’s health is fairly low by now.

“Oh wow,” Violet’s calls out. “You guys are actually winning? That game’s tough.”

“I’m ninety percent sure Two’s carrying both of us,” Pickle speaks up while mashing a few buttons desperately once his opponent tries to strike him. Somehow, this causes him to unleash a powerful move that kills the opponent. “How the fuck did I do that?!”

Two, finally able to relax his tensed shoulders, hangs his head back and lets out a loud, satisfied groan.

“Man, that was rough.”

“You’re telling me. I’ve gotten stuck on that boss plenty of times,” Violet laughs. “Hey, wanna tag out, Pickle? At least for the next round.”

“Feel free for a few. This game’s stressful—I can’t take it much longer. It’s fun though!”

Violet cracks her knuckles and smirks. “Sounds good to me. We might stand a chance at beating it then.”

Pickle merely chortles in response, hardly offended by the jest. “Whatever you say.”

He turns to you then. “What about you, Ten? You wanna play something?”

“I’m good,” you politely decline. “I already played a lot with Two. My eyes need a break.”

“The life of gaming isn’t for everyone,” Two teases. Truly, you’ve been staring at these screens so long that your head feels full, and your eyes strain so much that you think they might pop out of your head.

“I dunno, being in the dark after nothing but bright lights is kind of nice,” Violet counters with a shrug. She wastes no time taking her place by Two’s side and maneuvering her hands over the buttons on the cabinet, preparing to start the next fight with him. “Why don’t you go get yourself an actual meal if you need a break?”

“Ah…” Your hand meets your stomach, then. You are still a bit hungry, and, much to your surprise, Violet has hardly let the fact that you didn’t eat slip by. Is it really safe to go back though? You’re in no mood to go to the cafeteria alone right now, even if it’s highly likely Lucius has left already.

“I’ll go with,” Pickle chimes in agreeably, almost as if reading your mind. Whether he sensed your unease, you can’t much tell. You think the guy’s just being friendly this time. “If you want company.”

“Oh, were you guys gonna leave?” Two turns before starting the next match and frowns. He sounds disappointed. “I was hoping you’d stick around and watch.”

“We’ll be back in just a sec,” Pickle promises. “We can bring food over so the both of us can watch.”

He then laughs. “What? You want her to starve?”

Violet gives a bit of a playful scoff, though keeps her tone sarcastic. “Yeah, Two, I dunno. That’s kinda harsh.”

Two blushes and looks away at feeling left dejected. You certainly hope he doesn’t feel too guilty about being a bit selfish in this case. You’re not really upset by it.

“Fine. We’ll wait to start ‘til you get back,” He says with a shrug. Though Two makes no further attempts to stop you, you can tell by the look on his face he’s a little disheartened. Maybe he wants the company like his sister does. Neither of them is really used to being apart or unstimulated by some activity together, after all. If Three’s supposedly seeking out attention from the others, you would expect no less than the same behavior of her brother.

Being with Pickle in the cafeteria might ease your nerves. You’d been grateful for Blue’s company in the moment, and this is no exception. The both of you head off together, but you let Pickle cross the hall first. When it’s your turn, there’s hardly anyone nearby, but you do hear Mom’s voice from the office. You guess she’s returned from whatever she was doing.

In part, you wonder if she was helping Micah with the boy The Overseer and Lucius brought in. You’ve not forgotten about him, and remain wholly convinced Pickle is not that boy. Micah said he was busy, anyway. If Mom’s going off to take care of business, she’s likely with him since she once helmed the role he now does. That’s what Yosuke had said.

Being back in the cafeteria is hardly comforting after your earlier brush with Lucius, but you manage to start making your way to the counter without issue. Pickle lingers by your side all the while, standing quietly as you attempt to summon Charlie.

You call his name, but he doesn’t immediately come. Only after a long silence do you hear slow shuffling. From the slit beneath the greyed-out glass pane pops a paper with a smile on it, followed by another brief “HI”.

This is enough to convince you that it’s him. The handwriting is the same as yesterday’s, you can tell. Plus, the footsteps didn’t at all sound like Lucius’. Though he’d taken you by surprise earlier, you now recall well the sound of his steps. You damn well spent a long time listening to them, anyway.

The revelation of Charlie’s return is extremely relieving, and you wind up letting out an assuaged sigh.

“I forgot to get food earlier,” you say, hoping to clue in the worker on the fact that you’d swung by before. You don’t think he knows what you know about workers, but hope desperately that he can figure it out on his own. If not now, in time.

“Could I maybe get a little something?” You request politely. Charlie retracts the paper and shuffles away a moment. His movements are far slower than they were yesterday, you find. While Charlie fetches you something, Pickle begins attempting to make casual conversation.

“Did you talk to Two?” He asks. Evidently he’s picked up quickly on that fact. No doubt Pickle’s worried about his companion.

“Yeah.” You tuck a loose strand of hair nervously behind your ear. “He’s struggling with all this, I guess. He’s told me how he feels about the situation with Three. Has he mentioned it all to you?”

“For the most part,” is Pickle’s brief response. “I feel bad for him, you know. I mean, both of them , obviously. But…”

“But?” Your brow raises. Pickle frowns.

“I know it’s not my business, but Three does sort of need to learn to accept that her brother’s his own person. But I try not to get involved, so I don’t really say much about it.”

You breathe a bit of laughter. “You don’t want to get involved, yet you’re comfortable gossiping about it?”

Pickle groans. “I know, I know! I’m kind of a sucker for gossip, sorry. I just like being included in things, not starting them. You know, cutting hair is good for that.”

“Getting to know people in all manner of ways, huh?” You question curiously. “You’re a sneaky one.”

In honesty, this does strike a small nerve with you. In a way, Pickle’s approach isn’t unlike Gale’s, and you hate making that association. Both he and Gale use their interests to garner information. But you trust Pickle far more than Gale without having even known him very long.

“Hey, I’m still a good person!” Pickle asserts, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I hope I come across that way, anyway. But I just kind of like to know what’s going on sometimes. If I can’t follow things, I lose interest. Don’t you ever feel like you can’t get behind something you don’t know?”

You ponder this a moment. “…No, my problem is a little different. I like to know things even if I shouldn’t. Or even if it’s unpleasant. It’s not to push away any kind of disinterest—I just get curious.”

You frown, then. “Sometimes knowing isn’t always worth the risk. But I still can’t help it, apparently. The doctors have always tried to look down on me for prying, but I still don’t want to stop trying to learn what I can.”

“Gotten in trouble before, huh?” Pickle supposes with a worried look. When he sees you look away, his lips curve down a bit. “I’m sorry. That must be difficult. The doctors here are pretty secretive. I still don’t know a lot about them and end up having to learn it from the other Numbers. But some of the others don’t like talking about their doctors much.”

You’re reminded, then, that his own doctor is Monica. He must know more about her than you do, right?

“What about yours?”

“Mine?” Pickle rolls his eyes around as he ponders this. “Well, I don’t wanna talk about bedroom stuff because it’s awkward, but she’s kind of quiet about her personal life beyond the whole working with kids thing. Has she said that to you?”

“Pretty much. She’s a little more open than some of the other doctors can be. She’s not the only one, though.”

Pickle scratches at the back of his head. “I still don’t know a whole lot about some of the doctors here, but I did get to learn a little more about Jonathan and Nathaniel. Those two really like acting. Weirdly, the twins do too. But I haven’t seen them do anything together yet.”

“Right…” you mumble. “They’ve been apart since after you came, huh?”

“Uh-huh. I feel bad about it,” Pickle admits with a crestfallen look, his brown eyes meeting the floor. “Two said it isn’t my fault and that Three wouldn’t blame me entirely, but I don’t know. She seems frustrated and sad that her brother isn’t paying attention to her all the time now, and I’m worried she’s directing her frustrations to either me, or herself. Neither are good.

“I guess I can understand why Three feels the way she does, but she sort of comes across as a whiny kid. I don’t mean to say it’s the most awful thing you could be. This place hurts to live in, and it’s hard to stay composed here. I’ll honestly take someone who wines over someone who’s horrible and mean. And besides, everyone always says she’s fragile, which is true. But she has made it this long, right?”

“Right,” you don’t disagree. Three often undersells her strengths. She focuses on what overwhelms her and neglects to see the progress she’s made. Only when she feels good is she happy. Any other time, it’s like she crumbles.

Pickle goes on. “Still, she’s not really good at being on her own. I like being social too, but even I need time to myself. Even Two and I aren’t always together and can stand on our own. Three struggles to.”

Just then, Charlie returns and slowly slides a bowl of rice and veggies toward you. The meal is simple, but you hardly blame the man nor turn you nose up at the offer. Simple is just fine. Besides, Charlie might not be feeling his best after whatever Lucius did to him. You’d much rather not think about it.

All you do is say thank you, which Charlie returns with another paper smile and the word “ENJOY”.

“It’s not just that,” you chime in, turning back to Pickle. “Sometimes you can’t depend on coming here to get you through the day. For example, there was a time where Eight was being holed up in his room because his doctor cared so little about him. I know he’s pretty comfortable on his own, but that having happened to others might have messed with them. And then there’s me, who keeps disappearing and having to deal with things alone. I had to learn the hard way why it’s important to be self-reliant. I’d sort of always clung to being here to make me feel better when maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas.”

You take a polite nip at the rice dish. Even for as simple as it is, you’re so hungry that it’s delicious to you. The seasoning is fairly light, yet it’s just enough to be satisfactory.

“But even then, it’s not like a little reliance is wrong, either. Not to borrow a word Cyrus uses so often, but balance is important for that kind of thing. So in Three’s case, her being so close to her brother isn’t bad. Wanting to hang out with your only blood relative isn’t something selfish. She just needs to find that balance. She’s missing the other half of that. Maybe she thinks she needs her brother to be balanced, not herself. But I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to her.”

It's exceedingly difficult to make your case when Pickle doesn’t have the whole story. You’d be remiss to tell him outright what goes on between the two siblings, so you can do no more than dance around the subject and keep in mind what limited context Pickle has.

“Do you think she’d ever even open up about it?” Pickle remains curious. “I mean, even Two’s said there’s a lot that just stays between them because it’s more comfortable for them to talk about it amongst themselves.”

“I’m sure she might,” you suppose. “But even if she trusts me, I’m no Two. Nor Jade. Supposedly her and Three were close enough that Three was open with her.”

Pickle nods. “I’d heard. Um, anyway, I guess you have a point, but I still think Three has a lot to learn, and that she’s not totally being fair to her brother. I don’t know if she’ll shape up, but I like Two a whole lot and I don’t want to see him feel hurt over this. I don’t like seeing him and his sister fight over something I think is a little silly. Plus, I don’t like being put in the spotlight in such a bad way. Attention is nice, but…”

“I’d imagine it does create a lot of pressure,” you mull it over before gulping down another forkful of rice. “But welcome to the club. I’ve been there myself.”

Pickle chuckles boyishly. “I’ve heard that too. Anyway, let’s go back, ‘kay? I’d feel bad leaving those two hanging.”

You nod, and Pickle decides to head out first. Before you go on, you ask Charlie,

“Are you okay?”

He gives you a frowning face this time, much to your dismay. All you can really say is “I’m sorry”.

Charlie hardly bothers to write much more. You suppose there’s not much more to be said, but also think it’s probably because he’s too exhausted. You don’t blame him.

Even if he is slated to die someday, even before the Numbers do, you won’t leave Charlie behind. Lucius sees the workers as expendable, but they’re more human to you than the doctors are. Once, you really didn’t think much of the workers, or else you were simply just afraid of them since they were so unknown.

To an extent, you still are unnerved by their presences in the facility when you can’t tell just what they’re thinking or feeling. Their uniforms, and how they cover any human characteristics of note, make it all a bit frightening. But no matter what, they’re still victims to this place. You won’t ever forget that. If ever you should question it, you have only but the horrible memory of your confinement to make it clearer.

“Take care,” you tell your friend. It’s really all you can say about his struggle. “Okay?”

Charlie does not respond, but you’re sure he heard you. Not wanting to make Pickle have to go back to check on what’s going on, you finally follow him.

Returning to the arcade, you find the atmosphere has lightened. You and Pickle hang back and watch Violet and Two massacre boss after boss, fighting alongside one another with ease. Violet has this big, wicked grin on her face, whereas her partner remains intensely focused on the screen before him while he pounds away at buttons in an almost rhythmic manner. You can tell by the way he moves that he knows exactly what combos to use, and what each one requires.

Your three companions remain utterly enthralled by the game, whooping and hollering whenever there’s a victory, and yelling desperately whenever something goes wrong. Matching their energy isn’t much your prerogative, especially not with food in your hands, but you’re happy to see them so enthused with one another. Pickle, especially, seems much more energetic now that he’s in the presence of others. You hope his chipper attitude isn’t a strained act as it has been for others. Even for Two, his happy demeanor is, in part, just a veil for his miseries. But maybe Pickle’s the same way, and that’s why both boys do get along so well.

When you see these three having a good time, you do start to wonder whether you’re just a stick-in-the-mud by comparison. You’re hardly yelling out or participating, merely adding a few comments here and there between bites and even after your food has long been eaten and your empty dish put down on the floor somewhere. Not like anyone much minds it, but not being as reactive still feels strange. But even so, you’re happy to be here.

You hadn’t expected to spend most, if not all of your day in the arcade, but the three Numbers all seem comfortable using every one of their hours here. They don’t even care to check if anyone’s around today, but maybe it’s best you not rush to bother everyone anyway. Blue’s still probably enjoying her alone time, and you would hate to intrude on the peachy girlfriends should they be around. Eight and Cyrus probably need their space too. You suppose that only leaves Lav and Three, but you aren’t totally sure if they’re here after what you heard of their whereabouts earlier.

It barely matters anyway—after such a long time being here, you’re eventually interrupted by the crackling sound of the intercom overhead. At first, you expect it to sound for bed, but this doesn’t turn out to be the case.

“Ten to the gate,” Mom’s chipper voice rings out, making your heart skip a beat.

So soon?

You then remember Yosuke’s straight-faced look at you earlier—was he worried? But then, that only makes your head spin more. There are many reasons for him to be unhappy about another visit given his attachment to you, sure. But now you panic and start to expect the worst.

What if it’s Milos or Lilah?

“Um, guess we’ll see you,” Violet calls out. When you look back her way after eyeing the ceiling in a quiet terror at the thought of possibly having to see Milos again, you notice she and Two have just beaten their next opponent and are on a continue screen. Both have paused their playing to look back your way.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Two remains chipper and gives you a smile. “I know you’re not much of a game player, but this was still fun.”

The initial words lead you to notice that he’s definitely trying to refer to the talk you had without explicitly saying anything about it in front of Violet and Pickle. Knowing this, you try to stay focused and return his smile. “Yeah. It was nice. If you ever wanna do it again, I’m down. I’ll, um…I’ll see you guys later.”

It’s gotten easier to feign an unbothered state with your friends. Whether this is good or bad, you aren’t entirely sure. It’s useful, if anything. But all you can really gather otherwise is that this reflects some kind of change in you. Hiding your emotions had been difficult when you were so new here. Now it’s easier to laugh and participate with those you care for, or play along with what’s done to you by those you don’t, while still harboring deep resentment or misery in your heart for the latter. For once, you really know what that feels like. It’s almost like lying, you think. But lying is something that’s helped several of your friends get by.

In lieu of incurring anyone’s impatient wrath, you don’t stay glued to these thoughts, nor linger long in the arcade despite not really wanting to go out in the hall. Your heart continues to beat quickly as you sheepishly make your way outside, your eyes glued to the floor as you saunter out. Maybe you’re doing this because you just don’t want the worst possibility to be true. Your limbs are still a bit sore from Micah’s visit, and you would really rather lay in your own bed even if it were to lead to Yosuke having his way with you. He’s at least a little gentler sometimes.

“Motherfucker!” A bitter voice rings out as you grow closer to the gate. “He beat me to it.”

It’s a familiar voice, but not one you’ve heard in a while. Looking up now, your eyes lay uncomfortably upon the sight of two men you’ve not met with in quite some time—especially not together.

Sven and Jude stand on the other side of the open gate, while Mom and Monica casually hang around beside them, close to the office. Seeing Sven’s hazel eyes trailing your body leaves you embittered. Perhaps the fear has melted slightly now that you know who’s actually here to visit, but it’s certainly been replaced by more anger.

Sven was fairly rough last time he saw you. Nowhere near as rough as Micah, but you were mistreated nonetheless. As for the last visit with Jude and Sven together, well, you honestly don’t fully remember. It’s been what feels like a long time.

Seeing Sven’s face only riles you up, but Jude’s calm, pleasantly resting profile isn’t any more appealing to view. Perhaps compared to his partner, he’s never been as bad, but he’s hardly anyone you care for any more than anyone else here.

The brown-haired man simply stands with his arms folded, while his partner goes on and on about Micah. Sven’s greyly-coated body remains still, though he does bring a hand up to his forehead and mutters bitterly.

“I swear that fucker works fast.” You presume he’s seen the bandage on your cheek and gathered just who was with you.

“Well, you beat him to it last time,” Mom points out with a coquettish laugh. “Though, I’m quite certain from what I heard that she liked being wrapped up in latex much more than in ribbons. Isn’t that right, Ten?”

You look away with reddened cheeks and don’t answer, but Sven, ignoring Mom’s light jest, storms toward you and grabs your chin to forcefully tip up your head. His focus isn’t on intimidating you, it seems. His hazel eyes remain affixed to the bandage on your cheek. Without hesitation, he rips it off, the sudden, violent lifting of your skin leaving a stinging sensation around the cut. You wince in response, but bite your tongue enough to not make a noise.

“Jesus,” Sven spits. “Why’d he have to fuck up her face with this?”

Finally, Jude begins to speak. He turns to Mom and Monica and asks,

“Could you cover it for us? Like before? We’d really rather have her picture ready for this visit.”

This leaves you uneasy. Why does that matter? And what does he mean “like before”? Has he done this to anyone else?

“Technically yes, though you really shouldn’t put makeup on a cut that fresh,” Monica advises with a frown. “Honestly! Have you never been with other women before to know?”

“I’ve never much cared to be tied down by just one,” Jude chuckles. “I guess even in my age I can be a bit like Sven that way. Young women are much too alluring to stick with only one.”

“Mm,” Mom hums with a sultry hunger. “What a charmer you are, Jude. You must have gotten so many girls when you were his age.”

“Yeah, he’s told me plenty of stories, the bastard,” Sven scoffs, still analyzing your face with a frown. “Anyway, ‘Mother’, you know how to cover this fresh a scar, right?”

Monica again gives a mindful word against the idea, but Mom hardly agrees with her.

“Oh please, Monica, a girl can afford to hide a few scars and bruises with makeup,” she laughs. “I do it all the time. Sometimes it does poke through, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, that scar’s dry by now, isn’t it?”

Sven touches one part of the cut on your cheek with the pad of his finger in an attempt to assess its condition. His touch is light enough just to make this assessment, though it still stings to feel him on you. Though the stinging is not nearly as bad as it had when you first got cut, you can’t help but wince.

“Bone dry,” Sven relays his findings. “Red as fuck, though. If it’s been cleaned I don’t see a problem.”

“Well, if you say so,” Monica shrugs. “Mamita, should I get your makeup bag?”

“How thoughtful of you,” Mom says with a charming, pink-lipped smile. “Yes, won’t you? As for you boys, you should wait out here.”

“Don’t take forever, alright?” Sven speaks up as he drops your chin. “I wanna get my fix before her doctor gets back and starts yelling at me for messing with her too bad. The guy’s way too damn overprotective.”

Mom tuts. “Now Sven, don’t you care about your own Number?”

The grey-coated young man simply shrugs. “She’s a good lay. That’s all.”

These words only infuriate you further. It’s clear Sven cares little about Lav. No wonder she has to be so self-reliant. Still, you don’t bother to speak up against him right now.”

Without much else to say, Mom begins to walk your way, leaving Sven to step aside. When she gets to you, Mom brings a sweet hand to your shoulder and perks up.

“Now, sweetie, I know it’s unusual, but let’s go fix you up, alright?”

You look up at her green gaze with unease, but don’t bother to question much of anything. Mom gives a sweet, warm smile as she eyes you.

“My, even through that layer of misery, you’re still such a cute little girl. I wish I could pinch your cheeks, but obviously I shouldn’t.”

The comment makes you drop your eyes in embarrassment, much to the woman’s amusement. By now, Monica’s returned to Mom with a sleek, sizeable, black leather pouch which she slides into Mom’s palm when the sprightly woman outstretches it.

Properly prepared to do as requested, Mom starts to guide you toward the infirmary and calls out to the men, “Now wait here, you two. We’ll be right back.”

While she opens up the door, she adds one more thing:

“Monica, come on in with us, won’t you? It’ll be fun to bond, us girls. Even just a little.”

Monica can’t help but light up with a lively smile. “That sounds fun!”

You notice her not pushing for an invitation despite being joyful at receiving one. She really is acting puppyish around Mom, so desperate for her approval and good faith. It’s almost sad. But Monica warned you she’s not quite going to be as sweet and kind in the bedroom, so you try not to feel too bad.

Perhaps she might not be awful, but you aren’t sure what to think. Pickle seemed hesitant to bring her interests up because they embarrassed him, but said she wasn’t violent or hurtful. That’s probably the only thing you can safely say is worth being relieved over. The shameful things are only shameful while you’re in the room with a given doctor. Though, you still embarrass easily with some kinds of attention and certain acts. It’s hard to really get over that.

Speaking of which, this whole situation going on now is leaving you utterly dazed. On one hand, the break in routine and the stretching of time between now and your impending visit is something you are pleased by, but on the other, this is all much too weird.

You also can’t help but wonder if the other girls have ever had to deal with this sort of thing before—nobody’s ever brought up wearing makeup or being dressed up. Then again, nobody really likes to talk explicitly about the sorts of things the doctors do to them. You can only really assume that anything done to you is possibly done to others.

Being in the infirmary is a bit bewildering since it’s been quite some time after your last visit here. Your mind at first wanders over to the memory of waking up here with Mom and later seeing Cyrus at the door, but you quickly realize that’s not quite the right memory. Last time you were here was with Yosuke. The reminder only makes your heart sink.

Mom wastes no time unloading her rather sizeable bag of makeup, pulling out jars and tubes and brushes that you’re not at all familiar with. Some items look like cream, others like flesh-colored lotion. What’s even stranger is that the colors are varied, with some light, and others dark. You’d imagine that if this is what is used to cover the skin, Mom would stick to her own skin tone.

Monica, meanwhile, guides you to the infirmary bed and has you sit upon it, where you wait patiently for whatever it is the women intend to do. Monica doesn’t sit by you, but does stand beside you. When your eyes trail up to her face, you catch her watching Mom patiently, a smile sitting casually on her maroon-painted lips.

You start to wonder just what it’s like to wear makeup every day. Monica’s a little older, but she still looks fairly fresh with how she wears it. Mom has always kept her own makeup light, unless she’s skilled enough to make it look that way and actually wears a lot. You hardly want to ask.

When Mom’s done unloading the bag, she turns her head and catches you staring. This makes her giggle.

“I have a lot of shades,” she explains, gathering the question in your eyes. “I sometimes help Gale cover their own bruises, you know. They’re so sweet, but they really don’t know much about makeup like we do.”

Monica chuckles. “I think Gale started wearing makeup at a later age. They’re not quite like us where we started young.”

“Young?” You can’t help but ask. Monica looks down at you and nods.

“I started wearing makeup just before I was a teenager. My own mother helped me. She was very big on appearances and thought her daughter should get ready for that sort of social expectation early.”

“I was just a little older than that myself,” Mom chimes in as she sorts out what shade she wants to use on you. “My, It’s been so long! I think I started by practicing with my mom’s stash. She got so mad the first time she caught me! She always liked the expensive products and didn’t want me touching any of it. But I think I looked quite good and kept sneaking it in anyway until she caved and bought me my own. I’ve always picked pricier products, really.”

“You’re such a spoiled girl, Mamita,” Monica teases. “I didn’t start wearing anything fancy until I was able to pay for my own things. I worked a while to find a look that fit me.”

She sighs. “I remember all the awkward phases I had. I used to make my eyebrows much too thick and dark.”

“Meanwhile, I used to use way too much blush,” Mom can’t help but chortle at the reminder of her awkward phases. Rather than walk your way after gathering the makeup, she moves to take out some peroxide from a nearby cabinet, and a cotton pad which she dabs the liquid onto.

“I always thought bolder was better. But now I see the value in a simple look,” she says. “Even a little bit of lipstick and some eyeliner can drive those men so wild. It’s adorable. Some of them don’t even notice I’m wearing makeup because they don’t know what women really look like without it. Though it’s hard to fool the ones here since they don’t always bother to doll up their girls, and so they know what it looks like by comparison. Plus, everyone here knows well how I am with my appearance.”

Having collected what she needs, she makes her way to you with a few small containers and the dampened cotton pad. First, she gently dabs at the cut on your cheek, the chemical stench wafting strongly in your nose, and the stinging sensation of the peroxide lingering on your flesh. You wince a bit, but let Mom finish this task. You suppose she’s attempting to disinfect the thing before applying the makeup.

Once done, Mom tosses the cotton pad away. While your cheek dries, Mom brings one of the flesh-colored pots of makeup to your face and examines it in focus, humming a bit as she does.

“It’s not the exact right shade, but I suppose it’ll do. We’ll just have to blend it well.”

“Are you not going to prime the skin otherwise?” Monica seems surprised. Mom, however, does not budge.

“Unfortunately, no. As much as I’d love to do a proper job, those boys are so impatient, and priming would require us to wait. I only wanted to keep the skin clean since putting makeup on something this fresh is a bit risky. But I’ve done this before. Anyway, it’s just for one visit. Just a little makeup for just a little bit of time should hold fine. Plus, I might as well make it easier for her cutie doctor to clean it off. That man’s so hopeless with this stuff.”

Her manicured fingers wrap around the top of one particular tube, and she unscrews it to reveal a wand of some kind with a felt-looking tip.

“Now hold still, little girl,” she instructs as she brings the tip to your cheek. Whatever product is on the tip smells fragrant and sweet. “Mommy’s going to cover up that nasty scar for you.”

You do as instructed and let Mom apply the makeup, wincing a bit at the slight stinging each light dab brings. You can’t help but keep blushing at all this attention from the two women. They’re hovering over you so much that you’re starting to feel overwhelmed. Their bodies are so close, and their sweeter scents intermix and waft graciously into your nose. It leaves you feeling a bit strange.

Mom keeps flickering her green eyes toward you to watch your embarrassed state, before moving them back to her work. Monica simply watches from above, still with a smile. She periodically leans down to watch how Mom applies the makeup, her brown eyes wide with curiosity. But, she hardly says much about it otherwise.

Once the makeup is applied, your attendant blends it in next with a small brush, making light dabs with it that continue to sting your skin. She’s trying to be careful, something you gather by how she occasionally pulls the brush back and watches your reaction carefully before returning to her work. But even a little pressure still aggravates the sensation. You’re just worried that she’ll press hard enough to pierce whatever little scab there is that might have formed by now. With a cut like this, you don’t think that it’ll have fully scabbed over yet, still delicate enough to be punctured accidentally. Maybe it’s just a sense of paranoia in this case, since the doctors realistically know what they’re doing moreso than you ever could. Though, the doctors also make a lot of bad decisions like smoking or drinking when you’re certain that’s not healthy for them.

The silence between you and the women eventually becomes too troublesome to bear. Not only is this whole debacle embarrassing and awkward, but being surrounded and attended to by two women is leaving you a bit flushed, and you don’t like that it is.

“Mom, why do they care about this?” You ask.

“Men, or just Sven and Jude?” Monica asks for clarification while her companion concentrates. Mom’s pinkish lips remain curved in a smile, as Monica’s do.

“Either,” you mumble.

“Boys are silly, sweetie,” Mom answers you, the sweetness of her breath wafting into your face with how close she is. “Even the ones you don’t really want to be around expect girls to look pretty for them. They tend not to like imperfections because they’re so accustomed to the pretty images of women they get fed in the outside world.”

“But why try to make yourself look perfect for people you don’t care about?”

“It is a bit difficult, sure,” Mom shrugs this off. “But it’s fun to make them eat out of the palm of your hand by giving them what they want. When you act how they expect, they lose their minds. They get so wrapped up in the satisfaction that they forget how much power you hold. You can bring a man to his knees by being pretty and batting your little eyes at them.”

Monica blushes at the thought, and brings a hand to her cheek. “I’m not as good at that as Mamita is. I think it is fun to get what you want, but I also think that it’s also just really fun to be pretty. I like the way it makes me feel to look nice.”

She giggles. “But the attention doesn’t hurt either.”

“A woman who knows how things are,” Mom teases. “How grand. I’ve had college friends who were much too shy about how pretty they were. You, Ten, should take full advantage of the fact that men adore you and your body.”

You suppose, in a way, this is something you’ve already been trying with your doctor. He’s so attached to you that it’s easy to distract him by being the thing he wants. Your mind flashes back to earlier when you nuzzled against his chest. Even a man like him is powerless to small things, it seems. Maybe you’re just his weakness. Not once before did you ever consider that Yosuke had one.

Mom applies another layer of a different kind of makeup, which you learn is called foundation. Not knowing about this is no more strange than all the other things you don’t know, but the stuff sitting on your face hardly feels out of place. Maybe you’ve worn this kind of thing before, but you won’t bother to ask knowing that Mom would give you a non-answer.

“My, what a drastic improvement!” She sighs happily upon finishing her work. Her last, finishing touch includes a brief patting of some white powder that blends colorlessly into your skin. “What do you think, Monica?”

“She’s pretty either way, but it looks fairly well-covered” is the brown-haired woman’s chipper answer. “I’m sure those two will be pleased.”

Mom closes the cap on one pot of foundation. “Well, they’ll complain that it’s still visible to some extent, but so be it. At least it’s far less red and noticeable. I had to be extra careful to make sure none of it ruptured the forming scab.”

“Hmm, I wonder what they have in store for her,” Monica ponders this curiously. “Have they ever asked for makeup?”

“They have, but not in a while,” Mom responds with a knowing nod. She then moves to pack up her things, her back now toward you. “What it’s for, I don’t always know. They say it’s something they like to do now and again. But try getting Sven to be open about the specifics. That man hardly likes divulging details unless it’s to brag, which I find fascinating given the necessity for detail in his work. You would think he’d be just as meticulous about relaying his fun little exploits.”

You see this as an opportunity to get an answer from Mom that you couldn’t from Yosuke. “What do they do?”

“They’re not as hands on as some of us,” Monica answers for Mom. “I’ve heard they do more statistical work.”

“That’s right.” Mom zips up her bag promptly. You recall Yosuke not much being able to say anything about Sven and Jude’s jobs—at least that’s how he phrased it. After he’d said it, you supposed that he might not have known much about their role here, especially since he did more work aboveground. It’s not surprising that Mom would know what most, if not all the doctors do when she’s so integral to The Overseer’s operation down here.

Mom continues on. “I never expected those two to be the type, but they apparently have a way with that stuff. They’ve been colleagues for quite some time. I believe Jude was formerly a professor of Sven’s.”

Professor? So, a teacher? You’re taken aback by such a statement. Moreover, you hardly knew a thing about those men, but “statisticians” was not really your first guess. Perhaps it’s like Micah where the role seems strange compared to the doctor’s personality. But maybe someone like Sven can buckle down and do his job when he really has to.

“Why statistics?” You question further. “What do they even do with that here?”

Mom turns around and gives a light frown.

“Medical statistics are necessary. There’s quite a lot of work to be done when you deal with drugs or patients that extends far beyond the physical. Most everything needs to be calculable.”

You remain bewildered. It makes sense that things would need to be filed and measured for The Overseer’s disgusting project, whatever it really is. What strikes you most is that you never knew a thing about the two men, and hearing about it now is so jarring. The others had mentioned going to school, and you’d learned about Milos once being a hitman. A professor, though—that’s fairly new to you. It’d be hard for one to suddenly ease into a place like this, wouldn’t it? Someone with credibility who was once known. How on earth did he transition?

“What about Jude’s other job?” Your thoughts become words. “How did he settle on working here? I don’t—”

“Now sweetie, it’s not nice to pry,” Mom reminds you without breaking her lively tone. “That’s as much as you need to know. I’ll indulge my sweet girl’s curiosities only so much. Remember that you’re only here to look pretty and get used.”

Her words sound light, but remain laced with a subtle seriousness. It finally dawns on you that you’ve asked something personal about the other doctors that maybe you shouldn’t have. You’d gotten so wrapped up in the want to know that you made an oversight.

In part, it was both women’s decisions how they wanted to answer. If they’ve opened up about what they probably shouldn’t have, then it’s not just your shoulders the blame is on. At least, you hope. Still, the Overseer will be dissatisfied with your decision to seek information. You chide yourself for pecking just after you got scolded by Lucius for what you divulged yesterday. But maybe The Overseer won’t see this as a serious offense if Jude and Sven aren’t really as “close” to him as doctors like Lilah or Milos. After all, he’d mentioned the doctors choose to divulge things in general.

God, you’re stupid.

You glance up at the ceiling a bit in the hopes that whoever is watching will gather that you made a mistake. Of course that isn’t enough to be forgiven, but perhaps it’ll soften whatever harsh words or actions come your way, if any. Your only solace is knowing that the offense isn’t dire, and that The Overseer said he wholly expected you to make mistakes. But undoubtedly, you will be hearing from Lucius again. This, you dislike.

Why would either woman be so open about what you asked anyway? If they both know there are cameras here, then for what reason would they say things so frivolously? Though, when you think a moment about it, you realize it isn’t as surprising as you’re making it out to be. Monica’s a bit airheaded at times. Forgetful, gossipy, and overall friendly. She has the tendency to blab out of the want to make conversation. As for Mom, she willingly acts out regardless of the consequences. Whatever the reason, you don’t entirely know.

You frown at Mom’s last words after the slight panic from your mistake settles. It’s pointless to sit in fear when you can’t take back your words, but you don’t look forward to whatever might happen, if it does.

Though Mom’s statement irks you, it’s not something you fight. You wonder if she warned you with reason.

“Yes, Mom. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t she look pretty, Monica?” Mom again returns to her chipper state, bearing a girlish grin as she changes the subject. It would seem that the brief tenseness between you and her has faded now that she’s returned to the livelier conversation.

Monica smiles in turn as she assesses your face. She brings a hand to her cheek and gushes a little. “Absolutely. You can hardly tell there’s a scar.”

“You should think about asking Yosuke for a visit soon, if you really want to.” Mom again walks toward you and Monica, makeup bag in hand. She leans into Monica’s face and lowers her voice, her hushed words rolling sweetly off her tongue. “She’ll do anything you tell her to, you know.”

You look in in uncomfortable awe, watching her get so close to Monica’s face that their plump lips nearly touch. Mom even tilts her head as if preparing to kiss her, but retracts just before they do. Monica blushes, but hardly looks displeased by the gesture. She even seems, much to your dismay, a bit turned on, with long breaths escaping her lips and her eyelids lower than usual. When she realizes the moment has passed, she attempts to recompose herself by readjusting her glasses and smoothing out her coat.

“Food for thought,” is Mom’s final word. She gives a girlish giggle before heading toward the door. “Come on, little girl. We’ve kept those eager boys waiting long enough.”

“Couldn’t I wait just a little longer?” You ask, still hesitant to go along with Jude and Sven. Strangely, Mom doesn’t say no right away. She thinks on this a moment and eventually gives a shrug.

“Fine, if you want. It’s them you have to answer to.”

You don’t care.

Mom leaves you like this with Monica. You’re hardly displeased to have at least one person out of the room. But now that you’re alone with Monica, you can’t help but want to break the uncomfortable silence. You’d rather not let there be more tension, especially after seeing the woman partly aroused. Much to your relief, however, she’s mostly calmed down.

“I don’t think I like makeup,” is what you opt to say.

“You don’t know that for certain, do you?” Monica gives a light laugh. You frown.

“I don’t like what men expect. So I don’t think I like the idea of dressing up for them.”

Monica shakes her head. “Like I said, Ten, it’s perfectly fine to want to doll up for yourself. But there are times where you might want to look nice for someone who isn’t dislikeable. Say, a gathering with friends, a family get-together, or a wedding.”

The last word rolls into your ears unpleasantly. All the prior wedding imagery and talk still leaves such a spoiled, bitter flavor in your mouth. Though you’d rather not dwell on the subject, you end up asking of Monica,

“What’s it like to be married, anyway…?”

“I don’t know,” Monica ponders this while looking up. You realize the question was probably pointless.

“I guess you’ve never married?”

“Me?” Monica gives a surprised look. Her chipper demeanor fades, and she stands still a moment while she tries to parse this. “I…”

Why is she struggling to think about it? Is it not a simple yes or no? Or is this another one of those things she’s “pushed” out of her mind, the way she did with her previous work with children?

What kind of pain has she endured? Or is this all just some cheap trick? An act? You hardly have to remind Monica how wary of her you are. The conversation you two had wherein she got genuinely offended by your suspicion was enough to make you consider that all of her words were legitimate, but you aren’t absolutely certain. Still, she’s at least a little less malevolent than some other doctors. At the very least, you had come to figure she wasn’t harmful. Just strange.

“No. I don’t really want to talk about it,” Monica eventually says, but you’re hardly convinced with this answer. Not only because it’s vague, but because even Monica looks uncertain as she says it. Rather than stick to the topic of conversation, however, she moves her hands to your hair and attempts to tussle it into a preferable shape. Her warm fingers brush against your scalp and leave you a bit flustered.

“There,” she says when she’s finally pleased with one result. “They did say they wanted you picture perfect, right?”

Before you can open your mouth to ask about what’s up with her, loud banging erupts from behind the door. This is immediately followed by the thing opening to reveal a rather upset Sven.

“Hey, I don’t know what the fuck you two are doing, but I’m not playing anymore,” he calls out sharply, though primarily eyes you. He snaps his fingers loudly into the room, attempting to summon you. “Come on. Let’s go, girl.”

The snappiness of his anger leaves your heart instinctively beating a bit fast, but you do as told. Monica steps back so that you can push off the bed, and when you approach Sven, you can see every crinkling line in scrunched-up eyebrows as he looks down at you with annoyance. He grabs your chin and turns your right cheek to him, eyeing the covered scar.

“Damn, she really covered that thing up,” he mumbles. He then drops his hand to your wrist, clasping it tightly and dragging you out of the room. “Hey Jude, come check this out.”

Jude, unlike his partner, remains patient. It seems he’s been waiting by the office door as before, hardly having budged. When Sven drags you closer, Jude’s blue eyes rest upon your cheek with surprise.

“I haven’t seen her tackle a fresh scar in a long while. Not bad,” he compliments Mom’s handiwork. “The drier skin might not show if we keep our distance.”

What are they talking about? You hardly have time to think on this before Sven tightens his grip on your wrist, making you wince.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says with a dirty little grin. “We’re gonna have a little fun with you. Been long enough since we gave it a go.”

His grip on your wrist remains firm as he begins dragging you away and down the hall. You remain both uneased at the uncertainty of what the men will do, and simultaneously furious at the fact that they’re going to do anything at all and are treating you like shit. Even if Jude isn’t the one being so crude right now, you know what he’s capable of in the bedroom.

Mom has, by now, already gone. Monica, however, emerges from the infirmary looking rather despondent. She hardly even bothers to shift her brown eyes your way before you’re tugged past the office and into the other hall with all the numbered rooms. You can hardly tell with how quickly you’re being hauled away, but it looks as if she’s lost in thought. Again, you have no idea what to make of it any more than she does.

Lingering on it is pointless now, however. With Sven’s white-knuckled grip on your wrist, and Jude trailing just behind you, your focus on Monica has to break for a while. You can do no more than leave her and everyone else behind while you’re dragged off to one of your rooms by both men.

Chapter 75: Visit Thirty - Photo

You’d gotten so accustomed to waking up in this room that actually having entering it on your own for the first time in a while is jarring. The familiar white countertops and white walls surrounding the bed you’re sitting on the edge of leave little to focus on with how bland they are. All you can think uncomfortably about is the presence in the room.

The men instructed you to sit here and wait for them to get something ready, but they’re behind you now, so you can’t quite tell just what that something is. The only thing you can gather is the sound of heavy plastic snapping shut and open and shut again, and the smooth gliding of something into a, you presume, hole in whatever object they’re fiddling with back there.

Your hands stay glued to your lap, your heart beating a tad faster at the unwavering nervousness toward the uncertain. You think this visit is going to be more humiliating than painful, but that isn’t any better. It’s just a different kind of awful.

The soreness in your limbs is still slightly present now, though not nearly as bad as earlier. You’re hoping that Sven and Jude don’t overwork your body tonight, but know that you can’t really help it if they do. You’re starting to think about the whole working out thing that was mentioned to you prior—maybe it’d be a good idea to try it sometime so that you’re not so tired and sluggish after visits. Though, a high-stamina fuckdoll would only entice the men, wouldn’t it?

A loud plastic THUNK makes you jump a bit. What happened isn’t immediately clear until Jude and Sven finally step before you. Jude’s holding some unusual black, plastic-ish contraption. It looks like it might be a camera, one fairly lightweight in Jude’s hands. The thing has a volley of unusual buttons and switches on its face, but one thing you can’t mistake is an internal lens in the middle of the object. You eye the glossy face with unease, but don’t say anything of it.

“Really wish there were more shots to a cartridge, but oh well,” Jude comments with a disheartened sigh. “We’ll have to choose carefully what we shoot.”

Sven folds his arms and gives a lippy frown. “Would be better if we had a real camera.”

“This is a real camera.” Jude seems only slightly offended. “Just because it isn’t digital doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

Your eyebrows lower into a scowl as you watch the two men plan things out. You don’t waste any time cutting to the chase.

“What do you two want from me this time?”

“Shut up,” Sven snaps. “Just sit there and look pretty, sweetheart. We’ll tell you what to do when we want you to do it.”

“I have a right to know.”

“You presumptuous little cunt. You think you have rights?”

“You’ll find out,” Jude says with a light chuckle, brushing aside his partner’s crude words. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“A…camera?” You guess. It’s weird to you that neither man is making a big deal about you having come back. To them, it’s as if you never really left. You suppose it makes sense that they hardly care—both men seem more concerned about forcing you to bring them pleasure than anything else. Some of the other doctors have made things a little personal, but these two certainly never do. You can recall them both just leaving you right after they’ve had their fill. Sven, much more than Jude, has always just been a worse version of Micah. Even that bastard bothered to take care of you once or twice. Sven never has, and never will.

“You finally got one thing right. Congrats.” he scoffs at your answer. “It’s a special kind of camera, actually. Wanna know why?”

“I don’t understand why you have it,” you say bluntly, not trifling with the game he’s playing. “I thought your boss-“

“He gave us permission,” Jude butts in. His smirk is still present on his lips. “Using our phones would be much better for quality and convenience, but he doesn’t like, ah, let’s call it evidence. He knows how to hide his own things, but he doesn’t trust us to bring anything up there or down here without approval. He’s quite strict about it, in fact. So, this little camera is our next best bet. It’s a self-developing one, and hardly digital. I’ve had it for a while.”

He points to a slit in the bottom end of the camera. “The pictures we take tonight are going to come out here. Now, we can’t exactly take these home with us, since that’d be against the rules. But we do intend to have a little fun with these. Maybe leave them for your doctor to see. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

You look down, harrowed by the thought. Are there people that really do this kind of thing in the real world? How sick.

“Evidence?” You ask, hoping to distract from the thought. “Of what you do here?”

“Another right answer, huh?” Sven pecks at you bitterly. “Not like it was a hard assumption to make. But I’m surprised you’re even the slightest bit keen. I figured my boss would have fucked your brain up even more somehow. You shouldn’t have come out of there unscathed.”

You almost bite back with “do you think I didn’t?”, but grow distracted by a thought. It’s apparent that the men do know you met The Overseer, so Mom must have told the two where you’ve been. In that case, it’s likely they asked Yosuke for a visit immediately after learning you’d come back. Sven had mentioned Micah in the hall, so his only reason for seeing you other than to get himself off was because of some stupid competition with the man. How pathetic.

You say nothing in response to mention of The Overseer, but this only makes Sven laugh when he sees your embittered expression.

“What, nothing to say?” He edges you on. “Was that traumatic for you? Please. You probably had the time of your life, you little whore. Don’t forget we know what you like.”

Your hands ball into fists. Sven’s harsh words are somehow even worse than Micah’s. Maybe it’s the way he says them. But somehow, they sting much more.

“Now don’t upset her, Sven,” Jude tuts. “If she cries, it’ll look pretty bad on camera.”

Sven strokes his chin playfully. “Dunno. I think it’s more entertaining when they cry. Annoying as fuck, but don’t tell me you think it’s unseemly.”

“I suppose there is an aesthetic value to feminine fear,” Jude can’t much disagree with the idea, much to your disgust. “But I know for a fact you don’t give a shit about art.”

“Like you do?” Sven scoffs. “Stop wasting my time, old man. Let’s get going.”

Sven chuckles through his throat. “Right. Pretty one, start undressing.”

You’re taken aback by the order after having been so riled up by the horrible comments Sven made. When you pause for too long, Sven scowls.

“Hey, you hear what he said?” He barks. “Get moving.”

“Do it slowly,” Jude intervenes, raising his hand a bit. “Pretend you’re modeling, if that makes it easier to understand.”

You have no idea what exactly that means, but gather that he wants you to make it look good. You’re unaccustomed to both men taking their time like this—they’ve always gotten right to business. What’s so special about this?

You’re not really sure how to go about fulfilling the men’s order, but probably shouldn’t waste much time trying to figure it out. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can get to bed and sleep away today’s horrible visits.

Slowly, you lift your gown up, letting its hem trail up your body bit by bit.

“Look at the camera, pretty one,” Jude instructs, pointing the lens your way and watching closely for the right moment to shoot. You’re still giving a bit of a scowl, you find, but do let your eyes raise up toward the lens while you continue to undress.

“Mm, very nice,” Jude hums. Sven merely keeps his arms folded and frowns.

“You take too damn long, old man,” he mutters.

“Patience is a virtue, you know. I need to wait for just the right moments with such limited shots.”

It’s clear to you now that Jude’s the one who cares more for dressing the visits the way they’ve been. Maybe you should have guessed that by the way Sven criticized Micah heavily for being into things he considered strange. Sven just wants to get laid and assert himself as dominant over something. Jude apparently sucks the most enjoyment out of the particular situations, while his partner only follows.

Jude and Nathaniel seemed to get along once—maybe the man has a more appreciation for the artistic than you ever really expected. Certainly, he’s not at the same level as the gentler doctor, but you couldn’t tell. You hardly see Jude. Maybe that’s for the best, though.

But you wonder: did he choose Blue, then? Or did he simply find himself drawn to her? If Jude has any inkling of fascination with the artistic, then it’s possible he was drawn to Blue for that reason as well as for her looks. It’s nonetheless sickening to you that your friend has suffered with him to a point that she’s had to convince herself she likes what he does to her.

Your undressing slowly continues. You dislike having the camera lens staring back so coldly at you while your hands slip up your rose gown to expose every bit of your body. There’s only a brief respite from the view of the thing when you have to bring your gown completely over your head.

Hoping that this efforted gesture will please the men watching enough for them not to berate you for making a mistake, you stretch back a bit as your arms are raised, exposing your breasts and stomach fully for them while you take your time removing the gown completely from your body.

It’s unfortunate when you have to face the lens again, but you do just as told. Not knowing what else the men want other than mere undressing eye candy, you drop your gown on the floor and next move onto removing your panties, slipping each thumb against your hips and under the waistband of the cloth to guide the garment down to the floor. Once completely bare, you shyly cover up your chest with your arms and hug each shoulder. This makes Jude smile.

“Now that’s it,” he says, pressing a button on the side of the camera that causes it to whirr and hum. In moments, a white, glossy square paper emerges from the slit at the bottom, wholly black in the middle at first until Jude plucks the thing out and shakes it a bit. Once he’s done this, he and Jude lean in to view the photo on the plastic surface. Jude is the one who grins.

“She looks like a scared little girl,” he comments before making his way to you. Your hands don’t drop from your shoulders, but you eye the photo unpleasantly when Jude turns the paper to show it off. You look far more frightened and miserable than you thought you would. Notably, though, is that your right cheek looks nearly bare in the photo, as if the cut Micah gave earlier hardly existed. Mom did indeed to a good job at covering it.

“Well, at least we have one of you looking fresh,” Jude chuckles as he moves to place the photo on a nearby counter. “But we still have a few more shots left. I’d like just one more of you before we start having our fun. Something a little more intimate.”

“Now this, I don’t mind,” Sven comments with a smirk. “Hey, whore. Lay down and spread your legs.”

You huff. You know well why he wants you to do this, but you’re so bitter that you do end up asking “why?” under your breath.

Sven tilts his head. “You wanna start trouble, girl? We don’t have to do this. I’ll drag your ass right over here and start pounding away dry if you don’t shut your mouth.”

You look away.

“Now, now, you two,” Jude warns. “Don’t go riling each other up. We’re in the middle of something here. Now lay down, pretty one. Spread those legs nice and wide for us.”

Not bothering to speak up more, you pull your body back on the bed a bit and lay down across it. You hesitate to do the other part of what the men ordered, your thighs trembling.

“Go on,” Sven urges, his voice firm. “Spread them. You’re good at that.”

Your fists grip tight on the sheet underneath your body. Somehow, taking your time with this is more humiliating than just being tossed around on the bed.

Still trembling a bit, you part your legs for the men and expose your pussy to them. Your head turns, the door of the room now in your sight. You don’t want to look at either expression of your visitors as they eye your open body up and down.

“Arms up,” Jude commands. You hesitate, but comply and slowly raise your arms up above your head, your chest as fully exposed as your pussy.

There are footsteps that grow closer toward you. Jude’s, since he has the camera. Though he’s only a foot or so before you, his proximity is unnerving.

Click.

You wince at the sound of the camera shutter closing, and the following ejection of the photo.

“Now that’s a good one,” Sven admits once his partner has given the thing a light shake and shown it to him. “Bring back memories?”

Memories…?

“Lots,” Jude chuckles as he eyes the picture tenderly. “They always end up making the same face. Fascinating!”

By the way both men had spoken to Mom before, you suppose they’ve done this with some of the other female Numbers. Hearing Jude and Sven talk so familiarly about this, even with one offhand comment, is enough to make you queasy. You can’t imagine any of the others putting up with this kind of twisted photoshoot. What’s even worse is that both men seem wholly fond of these “memories”. How horrible.

Sven’s voice snaps you back to attention. “Damn, she’s got a pretty fucked up little pussy, huh?”

“Micah must have done her in pretty good today.” Jude agrees, though the statement only makes Sven scoff as if to say “whatever”. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and fury at being commented on like used meat.

“Well, I’m just gonna have to fuck her even harder,” Sven asserts without a care.

You make the decision to try sitting up now, not enthused about still being spread out the way you are. However, the moment you try, Jude speaks up.

“Stay right there, like that,” he commands. “Don’t move a muscle until we say you can.”

You shiver at the sound of both men now stepping toward you. Your face remains focused on the door, but you can feel the presence of both visitors by your body even before you visibly see them hovering atop you, over the bed. Without hesitation, both men begin to stroke and grope at your flesh. Jude’s touch remains gentler than his partner’s—he merely trails his fingers curiously down your body, feeling every frigid inch as you attempt to stay still as instructed. Sven, however, grabs your breasts roughly and chuckles amusedly when he sees your wide-eyed, frightened expression.

“Keep your head down just like that,” Jude tells you when he sees you trembling in desperation. You want to move. You want to shy away from both men. But Sven threatens you sharply when you think about trying.

“If you move, I’m going to get even rougher with you, sweetheart,” he tells you bitterly. “And I’m not even going to let you come. So stay fucking still.”

You wince and whimper as he pinches your nipples while laughing aloud, entertained. Both men continue to hover over your naked, spread body, taking full advantage of your forced, statuesque state. Your fists ball up with the unwanted groping as the men both molest you. Jude isn’t even bothering with the camera right now, having temporarily placed it beside you while he takes full advantage of his desire to feel you up.

One of Sven’s hands roughly squeezes at the flesh of your spread inner thigh, groping at it and teasing it as if it were putty. The feeling of his touch only causes you to sigh.

“The little whore really likes this, huh?” Sven cackles. “God damn.”

“Give me a kiss, pretty girl.” Jude chuckles as he leans in to force a kiss onto you, ramming his tongue down your throat. The stubble on his chin brushes against your skin as he works your lips forcefully, heavy breaths expelling from his nose and leaving your horrified face warm.

You yelp as Sven’s fingers suddenly force their way into your pussy, taking you by surprise. The sudden entry of his dry hands leaves you flinching. You weren’t wet enough for it not to produce such an uncomfortable pressure, but this doesn’t last as long as you expect when Sven is quick to work your inner walls enough to a point that you’re much slicker and easy to work. He laughs boyishly as his fingers separate and conjoin inside of you. Screaming out or crying aloud is impossible with Jude still sucking up your tongue and lips hungrily. All you can do is moan and whine into Jude’s mouth. You want desperately to get some air. Some relief. Something.

Moving around isn’t avoidable the more Sven violently pounds and spreads his fingers inside you, going far enough to where your flesh meets his knuckles. His other hand proceeds to tug and pinch at one of your nipples, but occasionally dips down further along your breast so that he can roll his fingers into it and grip the thing roughly.

You can’t help but wriggle around slightly underneath both men’s forceful touching. Jude isn’t even being gentle with his hands anymore, now pinning your wrists down hard to keep you from struggling too much as he continues to press wet, hard kisses onto you. Low moans occasionally slip through his throat, reverberating against your mouth.

Your cheeks burn red as you’re left helpless to such gross treatment from both visitors. Rolling whines come from your mouth in succession as Sven fucks you with his fingers without mercy. At some point, your whining noises gradually become long moans as your body reaps pleasure from being touched. You hate being forced to surrender to this so easily. Perhaps you were so riled up earlier today that it spilled over to this visit, but you can hardly bring yourself to think about it with your body being controlled by Sven and Jude.

The pleasure builds so much that you feel ready to burst with all the stimulation. But before you can come, Jude finally pulls away from your body and grabs the camera.

It’s clear just what he’s going to do. The expectation would leave you nervous if not for the pleasure between your legs now. In the back of your mind, you know that you don’t want to be seen like this. You can’t initially understand why you’re so uncomfortable with being photographed like this when the pictures won’t even be seen. But, for your embarrassment to be immortalized in some way is uncomfortable, to say the least.

The fact that the men are photographing you here only leaves you to think that there are videos of you being fucked somewhere. Not just by the doctors, but by those you actually love. It’s likely the rooms themselves don’t have cameras after all, but so many of your embarrassing and awful encounters were had outside these rooms. As you stare wearily into the lens of the camera in Jude’s hands, you can only feel shame at being made aware of the fact that people have watched you get felt up and raped by Mom and Yosuke.

Sven refuses to stop teasing at your pussy, and so your body refuses to react with anything more than continued heavy breaths and moans. The warmth of his hands against your crotch and atop your breast leave you dizzy and flushed despite your own want to push away from the pleasure. You’re left helpless to it regardless of how you feel or what you want.

Your glazing eyes simply look on at the lens presented before you. Even with the bit of space between it and you, it’s difficult to avoid staring into the thing.

Jude watches closely for just the right moment to shoot, and you try your best to avoid giving him what he wants. This, however, proves futile as Sven pulls a few more tricks of his fingers to force you to start coming. Though he hadn’t seemed eager to bother with your clit, he now moves his hand from your breast and brings it to your vulva. With two fingers, he presses hard against your clit now and furiously rubs at it. Though the pressure takes you aback, it also sends sparks flying in your body. Your eyes and mouth both widen at the strong sensation, and you can do no more than cry out as Sven forces you to let go.

Your head slightly tilts back against the mattress as a throated whine escapes your throat. You can’t take the feeling of this stimulation much longer, and certainly fail to hold it in to avoid giving Jude just what he wants. Even when you see his shit-eating grin from behind the camera, you can’t stop the pleasure from erupting in your lower body. Your hips thrust hungrily against Sven’s fingers, your pussy eager to slurp up his digits in want of having its lusty craving satisfied.

Click.

Although there’s a dread in your heart that forms at the sound of the camera snapping another photo of you in such a vulnerable state, the pleasure in your pussy refuses to let you focus on it. But it seems Sven doesn’t care to keep pleasuring you once his partner has reaped just what he wanted. The moment the camera in Jude’s hands sputters another picture from its slit, Sven pulls his fingers furiously out of your cunt and leaves the wet thing to throb and clench around nothing. You become angry that he gave up mid-orgasm, and even angrier that you wanted to thoroughly finish at all.

“What a pretty face,” Jude chuckles once the photo finally appears on the glossy paper. He observes its surface with a wild grin. Sven, completely ignoring you now, pulls away and moves closer to where Jude is to catch a peek at the image. Once his hazel eyes settle upon it, he bears the same shit-eating grin as his partner.

“Well fuck me, that’s a good one,” he remarks pleasurably, a coy, horrid smirk on his reddish lips. “And that’s just from fingers, huh?”

Finally having gathered your senses again, you shift your eyes away in embarrassment. But neither man lets you shy away for long as Jude brings the photo to your face and forces you to look at yourself. Seeing your jaw dropped, your face so red and hot, and your eyes almost rolling back into your head only brings a wave of mortification over you. This isn’t something you want to see. This is disgusting!

“See that, sweetheart?” Sven teases. “That’s what a little whore looks like.”

“Damn, I almost wanna keep this one,” Jude chuckles. “Ah, well.”

“Hey, you gonna let me go first this time, by the way?” Sven again continues to ignore you on the bed as his partner examined the photo further.

“Didn’t I just tell you the value of patience?” Jude brushes his partner off as he goes to the counter. When you bother picking your head up to see what he’s doing, you notice him place the next image beside the first two, in a neat line. Once done, Jude hands Sven his camera. “You take the next few shots. Then I’ll let you have her all you like.”

“Fine,” Sven huffs, snatching the contraption out of Jude’s hands. “You always do this, god damn. You’re a little weasel sometimes, you know that?”

“Sloppy seconds are still just as good,” he’s assured by his partner. “Besides, I’m your senior. I get first take when I feel like it.”

Sven shakes his head at the mention, but doesn’t bother responding. Jude then steps toward the back wall from where you are before promptly beckoning with his hand, waving it toward himself. “Now bring her over here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sven steps quickly your way and grabs one of your wrists. You give a surprised gasp as he tugs you violently up and off the bed. You can do no more than go limp in his grasp, your body tossing about and onto the floor like a paperweight. Though you attempt to catch yourself with your other hand, Sven continues to drag you toward Jude, who has by now taken his place on the other side of the room from where you were facing while on the bed.

“On your knees, sweetheart,” Sven commands, grabbing your neck next while still gripping the camera in his other hand. You’re taken aback by how strong his grip is, unless you’re just so weak from everything that had happened in The Overseer’s room that it only seems that way. You’d believe either.

Attempting to kneel on your own proves fruitless when Sven handles you roughly himself, enough to bring you where he wants. He keeps his hold on your neck while forcing you down into place, the pressure starting to just barely hurt before the man finally lets go.

When you look up, you see nothing but Jude’s grinning face. Though some of his words have sounded so polite and casual, his face now resonates a wickedness that you haven’t seen in some time. It makes you sick.

“Come on, pretty one,” he urges. “You’ve been here plenty of time. You know what to do. But don’t give me that scared little face, because I want a few shots with you enjoying yourself. I want you to worship it with a bit more enthusiasm.”

You wager he expects your hands and mouth to do all the work, and for you to be enthused about working his cock. Bringing both palms quietly up to his waist now, you’re left with a dread in your heart at the sight of a noticeable bulge in the man’s dark slacks. Every time you see this kind of thing it only disgusts you. Why do men get so aroused by lording over some innocent girl? You can’t understand.

Proceeding as expected, you look up at the man with pleading eyes, a gesture that gets him chuckling devilishly.

“Now that’s a good face. Play with it before you start.”

You hesitate at the order, but do follow through. Your eyes trail to the bulge in Jude’s pants as your hands gently rub over the dark cloth concealing it from you. The semi-firm bump on the fabric feels strange as the head brushes against your palm. You rub back and forth against the thing, trying to eye it as if in wonderment despite the horrid feeling doing this brings you.

“Well, well. You used to fight a lot more,” Jude remarks in surprise. “You’re getting better at listening to orders, huh?”

“Because she’s a little whore.” Sven’s response from behind you is wholly expected, but it still stings to hear him say it. You can practically see his smirk with that cocky tone he has. “She’s starting to know her place. A little, anyway. Girl’s still got a mouth on her.”

After a frustrated quiet bout of teasing Jude’s cock from behind his pants, your hands soon move to unbuckle his belt. He watches with an expectant blue-eyed glee as you expose his body to you, the head of his cock meeting your face as the layers of clothing are finally stripped away.

You almost expect Jude to make you suck him off first, but he doesn’t.

“You do know how this works, don’t you?” He questions once you continue to hesitate. The tip of his cock is fairly coated with precum, and though he’s not quite as erect as most men when they’re so eager to fuck you, he’s still fairly hard. You can tell he’s excited by the way his phallus twitches in response to the slight hesitance in your unnerved eyes, followed by the tender touch of your fingers when you finally drum up the courage to put them upon the stickied flesh.

“Do a good job,” Sven gives a sharp word from behind you. His input is hardly necessary.

“I got it,” you spit out. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“And you don’t need to be talking back, girl. Or are you just mad I didn’t let you come?”

“You act like I enjoyed it.”

Jude chuckles as you work his shaft delicately, pressing and rolling your fingers into its skin as if you’re curious about the member. “Want me to bring you that picture again so you can see just how much you really did?”

As if forgetting the threat immediately, he gives a bit of a brief, low moan while your hands continue to touch him.

“Hey, now,” he grunts. “Why not put some tongue into it while you’re at it? Lick everything up.”

“…Everything…?” You pause to look up at the man with uncertainty. He smirks.

“Everything.”

Bitterly, you oblige. Your wet tongue grazes Jude’s cock in long, slow movements, the way you’re sure he expects. The gross, fleshy flavor of the man fills your mouth with each long lick you make, and each flick up of your tongue only leaves a trail of sticky residue on its tip.

“I said everything,” you’re reminded. “Lower, too.”

You wince a bit at this order, but say nothing and do as told. Hesitantly, you hunch down just a bit lower and proceed to lap gently at his heavy scrotum. Whatever hair was there has been neatly trimmed away, and so you’re left with an uncomfortable sensation of loose, soft flesh against the surface of your tongue. If only you could get away with biting down on it in anger. You at least know these fucks are sensitive down there.

The trailing of your tongue goes around every bit of Jude’s sack, and around every inch of his hard cock, even back up to his wet tip to tease it lovingly. Jude merely huffs and leans his head back after a while of this pleasure, a gesture you gather means he’s enjoying your touch. This is only made more apparent when one of Jude’s hand meets the top of your head. He doesn’t grip you tightly like you’ve come to expect of some doctors. Rather, he rests his hand atop you while extracting pleasure from your tongue.

“Give his cock a little kiss, girl,” Sven commands from behind. His attention turns to his partner, then, who’s visibly aroused by all the attention you’re giving the area between his legs. Sven can’t help but laugh amusedly. “Honestly, Jude. You gonna explode from just a little teasing?”

“As if you’re any better,” Jude chuckles breathily. Though, he can’t help but let out another satisfied moan when your lips graze the underside of his cock. “Damn, that feels good. Keep that up, pretty one.”

Doing what he wants is incredibly easy, you find. You don’t suppose all men like the same thing, but a lot of these men are similar in some ways. You decide to wrap your hand around the base of Jude’s shaft, squeezing your fingers and slightly pressing them into his skin to make him weak at the knees. Your thumb glides along the underside of Jude’s cock, while any bit of exposed skin is met with the warmth of your lips. You aren’t sure whether you’re expected to nuzzle the thing or kiss it, so you do both. It hardly much matters when you’re fairly certain Jude’s going to want you to suck him off next.

Predictably, he stops you after a while of this teasing, his chest heaving in his aroused state. When your eyes glance over at his other hand, you can see its fingers pressing hard against the wall, as if desperate to cling to something.

“Looks like he’s had enough,” Sven remarks upon observing his partner’s reactions to your working of his phallus. “You ought to wrap your lips around his cock and start sucking him dry.”

Jude can’t help but give another breathy laugh. “Who’s the one in charge here?”

This is tiring. Right now, you want nothing more than to spit out the bitter flavor of Jude’s sticky precum and fleshy phallus. You’re cooperating just for the sake of getting out sooner, but it’s still difficult to play pretend and go along with what you have to, especially for the men you don’t see often and who treat you like even more of an object than others. Blue’s advice to you about this kind of thing wasn’t lost, but it’s far easier to hear the words than to implement them. Even after all this time you still hesitate. Even when you know what you must do. Maybe you’re just not cut out for this kind of thing. Not like the girl convinced herself to like this overnight, though. You won’t either.

Despite your disgust, it’s at least better that you can choose your own pace again. Having Micah pound your face in admittedly messed with your jaw and throat more than you really want to admit. Even now your cheeks feel a little sore. The fucker loves to be rough with you.

You finally bother to listen to what was ordered and pull back your head. The brief respite from the warmth of Jude’s hardened phallus leaves your lips feeling strange without the heat. But this hardly lasts long when you open your mouth for the doctor and take in the head of his shaft. Feeling yet another cock slide into your mouth and against your tongue only strains your jaw, but you try to pull through.

“All the way,” Jude commands. You huff through you nose but force yourself to relax your throat enough to bob your head all the way down. Once you hear Jude give another lengthy, pleasured groan, you’re certain the taken length is enough.

Click.

Your eyes widen at the sound, and shift over only to see a cheeky, grinning Sven dropping the camera from his face. You hadn’t even noticed him coming up to you in your focus on Jude. In moments, the picture he snapped comes out, and he shakes it just until it’s developed.

“That’s what a good girl looks like.” The blond man remains amused while observing the photo. When he turns it to show off the face, you’re left mortified at the sight of yourself gulping up Jude’s cock with an uneasy look on your face.

“Not…bad,” Jude grunts again as his fingers clamp around your scalp. He’s much too distracted to care about the photo. His meager commentary only makes Sven scoff, though he doesn’t comment further. He leaves you alone again just so he can line up the photo with the others. Jude, meanwhile, is absolutely losing it at your servicing him hungrily with your wet mouth.

“Start working, pretty one. I need more.”

What an unnecessary order. You know what to do right now. You know just what the fucker wants.

Angrily, you slurp up Jude’s cock and bob your head up and down, simultaneously working the base of his shaft with your fingers by teasing, rubbing, and squeezing it altogether. Periodically, you stop to roll your tongue around his tip once your head bobs back. The combination of each sensation only makes Jude sigh lustily.

“Faster,” he bids you with his pleasured breaths. “I’m almost there.”

You’re hardly eager to take more cum down your throat. Nonetheless, your pace picks up as you suck and lick and gulp down the man’s cock as if you’re starving for it. Jude can’t help but let out moans and grunts as you suck him off, and eventually you feel the familiar pulse and twitch of the thing in your mouth.

You prep your throat for the impending ejaculation, but to your surprise, the man doesn’t explode right away. Rather, you feel your head get grabbed by Sven and jerked immediately back. It hadn’t even dawned on you that the man came up from behind, so your heart simply jumps upon being yanked away from Jude. His dick pops right out of your agape mouth, and your hand slips away from him. Your lips drip with saliva and precum that rolls onto the upper part of your chin while you suck in breaths. You almost ask what Sven thinks he’s doing, but it become clearer when Jude moves his body closer to your face.

The doctor does not waste an instant of his pleasure—he pushes himself off the wall, taking his hand and tightly wrapping it around his cock. While Jude starts to let go with low growls, Sven keeps your head tilted up in place by keeping your hair and scalp tight in his grip and yanked back.

Everything seems to happen in an instant. You hardly manage to catch your breath enough before you’re shot in the face with Jude’s load. You can only instinctively flinch and shut your eyes at the sudden expelling of semen on your face. His warm cum spurts out all over your cheek and lips and forehead, deliberately coating it. Jude continues to furiously stroke himself until every drop of his creamy load has been squeezed out onto you.

The salty, musky smell is as unbearable as the flavor of whatever bit of his semen lands in your open mouth. You haven’t dealt with your face getting cummed on like this in a while, and the act no less disgusts you this time than last. After the initial spurt, you do well to shut your mouth eyes while Sven holds your head steadily in place for his partner to gleefully ejaculate onto.

Sven laughs while he observes the last of Jude’s filthy cum dribbling over your lips. You’re expectedly pissed, and not hiding it very well. “What, did you want to swallow it this time?”

He shakes your head roughly by the hair. “You hungry, whore?”

Again, you hear the camera shutter click as Sven takes a shot of your cum-covered profile. The stuff settling into your skin is warm as hell, the odor still invading your nose. A bit of it is starting to drip off your face by now, and you, at the very least, try to swipe it out of your eyes and away from your nose and mouth.

Jude, finally having recovered from his orgasm, gives a loud sigh. “Damn…that was good.”

Once the photo that the camera expelled has developed, Sven takes it between his fingers and eyes the thing curiously. He pauses a moment before letting a grin spread wide on his face. “She really is such a little cumslut, huh? Doesn’t care where it ends up as long as she gets it.”

“Let me see that.” Jude still sounds out of breath, though even he manages to laugh at your soiled face in the photo. “Nasty little thing.”

“You’re breathing kinda heavy,” Sven pecks at his mentor. “You tired already, old man?”

Jude’s blue eyes trail down to you on the floor, a smirk now on his lips. “Don’t count me out just yet, now. I want more.”

Without hesitating, he grabs your arm and pushes you backwards onto the floor. The sudden movement causes you to gasp before your body crashes down onto the cold ground upon its side. Your outstretched palm saves you from a nasty hit, thankfully. And with all the tussling, loose strands of hair stick to the sides of your face, blocking your vision and practically covering you from the men. You want to brush it away, but before you can even gather your wits, Jude’s already atop your body.

His earlier dormant state leaves you wholly surprised by his decision to move fast now. The man roughly twists you around, back pressed to the floor, and pins your wrists down hard. The hitting of the solid ground against your knuckles only leaves you wincing at the pain.

“Damn, you really got riled up,” Sven remarks as he sets the next photo beside the others. Jude merely gives a devilish, throated chuckle as his eyes watch your now-frightened face.

“I can’t be done until I dump my load into that dirty pussy of hers at least once,” he says with a low voice. “I’ll let you have your turn after this.”

Once ready, Sven comes back to where you and Jude are, holding the camera up with one hand. “You want another picture for this one or no? Got about three shots left.”

Jude’s cock rubs against your slit as he presses himself more against you. “No. Save those for after. I want this one for myself.”

He chuckles as one of his hands lets you go just for a moment. Before you can try to react at the sudden freedom, Sven presses the sole of his shoe onto your wrist to take Jude’s hand’s place. You try to pull away, but the pressure is too tight for you to slip out.

Jude only adjusts himself a little, but the moment his tip finds your entrance, he shoves himself in hard. The force makes you yelp, moreso out of surprise, but still partly out of discomfort. Your pussy was luckily wet enough for it not to hurt so phenomenally bad, but the pressure of Jude’s cock pressing roughly into you still hurts nonetheless.

“Geez, don’t break her right away,” Sven spits in anger. “I want her tight too, dipshit.”

“She’ll still fit you like a glove, Sven. She’s good at that,” his partner grunts as he pulls back and pumps himself into you again. Once more, you whine and start to try pulling your wrists free. With both men keeping you pinned, this is a fruitless gesture.

“Don’t like it, baby?” Sven cackles. “You better loosen up or else it’s going to hurt more.”

Jude smirks as he proceeds to pump into your cunt without hesitation. He ignores your pained cries and continues with his casual, but rather breathy banter with his observant partner.

“You said that last time too.”

“Like it’s my fault they don’t fucking listen,” Sven says with a shrug. His attention then turns back to you writhing in agony on the floor. “Don’t struggle so much, sweetheart. Don’t want you too tired when I get my fill.”

Even though Jude isn’t pumping too quickly, the bare-minimum preparation didn’t help with the pain of being pushed so far into so suddenly.

“F-fuck! Not so hard, please!” You beg between pumps. Jude’s grip on your wrist only tightens.

“Loosen up, then, like he said,” he tells you after giving one hard grunt. “Lay back and enjoy it. Being so wound up is only going to make this harder. Girls like you usually like this kind of thing anyway. They expect it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” You groan as your mercilessly fucked. Your pussy still feels sore from the rough entry, but it’s starting to get wetter already with how much Jude’s crotch is rubbing against your clit with each thrust.

“You just don’t remember,” says Sven. “Girls out there like to dress all nice and expect not to be wanted. Pretty uncongenial if you ask me.”

“Too bad we can’t do things like this all the time out there, mm?” Jude questions amusedly, his hot breath hitting your face as his cock continues to pound away into you. “I guess it’s a good thing we have you girls here, just for us to play with.”

By now, your body has accustomed to him, though you continue to resent being fucked like this. The pain inside you still lingers beneath the rising pleasure of being ridden, both from your earlier abuse with Micah, and with Jude’s rough handling of your cunt.

Unfortunately, the stimulation of your clit with every thrust doesn’t leave much room for thought. Your attempts to stop a light moan from coming through fail, To your annoyance, Jude finds this utterly amusing. He leans close to your neck and chuckles.

“See? You’re loosening up just fine. You crave this.”

Your legs kick and thrash about, but nothing can prevent Jude from taking what he wants. And, unfortunately, moving around too much only makes his fucking of you uncomfortable as hell. Eventually, you give up and go limp, turning your head sideways and breathing heavily as your body is used as a fucktoy.

“She gave up?” Sven laughs in bewilderment. “That was fast.”

“Now that’s a pretty little girl,” Jude adds to the humiliation, crooning in your ear. “Nice and obedient. Give me a few more moans, pretty one. Make them nice and girly.”

He continues to pump wetly into your cunt, pounding you into the floor with each hard, dipping thrust. Though your submission to his order is partly just that, you are continually deriving pleasure from being rubbed up against so much. Your pussy feels stretched with how suddenly you were pushed into, but you can’t help but feel good otherwise with Jude’s crotch humping and rubbing up against your clit and around your folds. The friction is making you dizzy.

More moans escape your lips, girlish and light and long the way Jude wants them. Each one that you let out makes him fuck you harder, his voice resonating with laughter each time you whimper helplessly beneath him.

“I can’t…!” You whine while struggling to finish your sentence. You begin feeling your pussy throbbing and clenching around Jude’s cock with every push into you he gives. Sven above you simply gives a smirk at observing your flushed, desperate face. He taps your head with the tip of his other shoe. Since he has to lean on the leg he’s holding you with, more pressure is applied to your wrist, making you grit your teeth in pain.

“Wanna cum, baby?” He teases. “Better open up wide for the man and let him fill your filthy cunt up first.”

Jude gives huffs of light laughter between breaths and grunts. “You’re just telling her that because you want your turn already.”

He then sighs and grips your wrist harder. “Fuck!”

Sven doesn’t have to say, “I told you so” to his partner. Even from down here, you can see it on his disgustingly smug face. Your fists clench hard in anger as your body is pushed to come, but you do everything in your power not to explode until Jude does.

Again, Sven taps your head with his foot. “Hey. Spread wide, sweetheart. He’s ready.”

Annoyed and gritting your teeth, you do as commanded and try to spread your legs further. The sudden shift gives Jude more freedom to move around without rubbing wholly against your thighs. Somehow, the sensation of his pounding into you is only heightened when you’re left this wide open. Maybe it’s the memory of earlier, of how good it felt to be this spread out with Micah.

You want to come so desperately, whining into the air as Jude fucks your pussy with rough, pounding strides. His breath hits hard against your face as he grunts and sighs into your neck, his lips even pressing a rough kiss against your nape as he works you.

“Fuck me, that’s good” he grunts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

In an instant, he slams his cock into you and spurts out his load, filling your insides with creamy cum while letting out a long, loud groan. Your own head throws back at the feeling of warmth spreading inside of your body, your hips grinding up against the man in a desperate bid to come yourself. You refuse to escape all this horrible shit without getting your own fill of pleasure, even if it’s from such a horrible source.

Sven watches you from above with a cock of his head. “The little whore’s getting off on being filled up, god damn.”

Jude stays perfectly still and lets you buck your hips against him, laughing in your ear as you let go with nothing but whimpering moans coming from your lips. “Good, good girl. Getting the hang of getting put in your place, eh?”

“Just shut up!” You cry back between all your other noises. Eventually, you can’t bring yourself to keep grinding any longer and relax your body. The warmth in your pussy contrasts with the cool of the floor on your back, but it’s fairly soothing after all the activity.

You suck in breaths of recovery as Jude pulls promptly out of your pussy, the slick wetness making a gross, sticky noise as he leaves you. Only once Jude’s hand lets your wrist go does Sven step off your other wrist, Casually, he puts a hand in his pocket while waving the camera around as if to gesture to Jude, who’s now on his knees watching your breasts rise and fall with each breath you suck in and expel.

“Want a picture of that?” Sven asks. Jude smirks and shakes his head, his blue eyes not once leaving you.

“No, no. I think I’ll keep this one in my noggin,” he answers casually. “Besides, I don’t wanna hog all the film. I’m sure you want at least one of you having at her.”

Sven shrugs and hands his partner the camera, preparing to switch with him. “Hey, you’re the photo nut here. I just wanna fuck her.”

Jude chuckles as he takes the thing in his hands, finally looking down at it rather than you while he pushes off the floor. His cock is still wet and slightly sticky with both his and your juices, but he hardly bothers to put it away or clean it.

“Well, I think she’s pretty exhausted from just that little ride.”

This upsets his blond associate, who scowls and bends down to grab you by the arm. “She better fucking not be. I’m not leaving till she’s been fucked so hard she can’t think straight.”

Jude is amused by the remark and gives another casual laugh. “You still have all that young energy, huh? Go on, then. I’ll helm the camera from here.”

You grunt in discomfort as Sven forces your body up, though you’re still trying to recover from being pumped hard into. Your limbs are still a bit weak, and cum starts to spill out of you and drip down your thighs.

It’s hard to keep up with Sven as he drags you back toward the wall Jude had been leaning against earlier. Your feet end up gliding along the floor as you’re taken away, and only when Sven reaches where he’s headed do you have the slight chance to stand.

He gives you little chance to move otherwise, his hands grabbing your shoulders and spinning you so that your back is against the wall. You remain frazzled by the sudden movement, but notice Jude bothering to remove his grey blazer and toss it on a nearby counter. While keeping his hazel eyes fixated on you, the man rolls his white sleeves up, exposing the flesh of his arms.

Your eyes trail over to Jude somewhere behind him, camera in his hand and ready to shoot you and Sven whenever he wants. You’re sure Sven hardly cares what shot the man takes so long as he can see the pained or pleasured expression on your face. You remain disgusted thinking about what other photos Jude has left to take of you.

Once Sven’s undressed himself a bit, he slams your body back and pins one hand beside you. Leaning into your face with a bitter expression on his.

“Don’t move, girl,” he commands as his free hand moves to undo his pants. You glance down nervously as he unbuckles his belt.

“What is it you want?” You scornfully question, uncertain as to how he’s going to approach raping you this time. Sven sneers.

“For you to shut up and wait, little whore,” he spits, balling his wall-pressed hand into a fist. “Don’t be so impatient. You’ll get your fill. Whether you want it or not.”

You look on in disgust as Sven unsheathes his red-tipped cock from his pants by pulling down the band of both his underwear and the gray slacks. The buckle of his belt clacks and clinks together as he undresses his lower half.

Like Jude, Sven’s already fairly hard and wet, extremely eager to start.

“See I’m not like old Jude, here,” Sven reminds you, leaning in closer to your face. Avoiding him at this proximity isn’t doable. “A blowjob’s a blowjob and all, but it’s been a little while since I fucked you. So what I’m gonna do is pound that nasty cunt in until I’m bored of it for today. And you? You’re just gonna have to take it. Got it?”

He grabs your ass with his right hand, gripping it hard and squeezing the flesh. All you do is wince a bit.

“Can you at least not be so fucking rough?” You demand in frustration. “I’m still so sore from Micah, and-“

Sven pushes his hand off the wall and slaps you hard, his teeth bared in an ugly snarl. You whimper a bit in pain, but otherwise try hard to keep composed. This isn’t the worst you’ve dealt with.

“I don’t want to hear shit about Micah,” Sven spits into your ear now that your head is turned away from him. You can see Jude’s made his way to the wall nearby you. He’s opted to sit on a stool by one of the counters, cock still out and sticky with cum. His elbow is now perched on the countertop, while the hand of his other arm cups the underside of his phallus. You remain embittered to see him ready to start jerking of at the sight of you getting fucked.

The brief distraction does not hide you away from Sven, who continues to bark into your ear.

“You’re here on my time, whore. You do what I tell you and you take what I give you. I’m gonna be as rough with your used up cunt as I want. You’re a fucktoy. You don’t get to make requests unless it’s for me to give you more of my cock and fuck you even harder the way you know you want.”

He hunches down a bit and grabs each of your thighs, forcing them up and wide open. The sudden loss of your ability to stand takes you aback, and you at first lean your back hard against the wall to keep from falling. Realizing quickly what it is that Sven’s trying to do, your arms wrap around the back of his neck so that you have something to hold on to.

“W-wait!” You gasp at the sudden maneuvering of your body. Sven hardly listens to you and keeps a solid grip on your thighs, keeping them wide open. He doesn’t even tease you, instead guiding his head toward your entrance and shoving himself in just as hard as Jude had. By now, you’ve loosened up a little more, but it still brings a discomforting pressure into your pussy to be pushed into so roughly. You yelp in surprise and pain, and lean against Sven more as he parts your wet walls by force. Instinctively, your arms squeeze tighter against the man’s neck as you hang on in desperation. The further Sven pushes into your creamed-up pussy, the more you let out pained whines into the man’s ear. This only makes him laugh.

“Fucking whore. Don’t cry as if you don’t like it. You want me to be rough. You want me to rape you harder and harder each visit.”

He pulls back and shoves himself into you again, pounding against your insides without a care. Your ass and back press hard against the cold, white wall with each thrust.

“God!” You whine. “I don’t…”

Your eyes squeeze shut a moment as another bit of pressure pushes into your cunt with another of Sven’s powerful thrusts. Your whimpered moans of pain and pleasure only entice him.

“Sven, please,” you beg. “I-“

The man laughs and shuts you up by pumping hard into you once more, leaving your words to become nothing but a trail of whines and gasps.

“Nothing else to say, baby?” The blond man teases with a toothy grin as you struggle to form words. “Alright then. Shut up and take it.”

His pace finally starts to pick up. Sven no longer goes pump by pump, but rather starts to thrust in and out of you quickly while tightly gripping your thighs. You want desperately to shut your legs, but can’t even bring yourself to move. Your only focus now is on enduring the assault on your cunt while trying not to fall by clinging to Sven.

Nothing but rapid breaths fill your lungs while you’re raped against the wall, helpless to the incessant pounding into by such a horrible man. Even if Jude had been rough too, at least his pumps were less sporadic in rhythm. Sven simply seems unhinged in his eagerness to break you. He’s giving absolutely no chances to rest.

Weakly, your eyes open and shift over to Jude on the stool. Like Mom had once before, he’s getting himself off watching all this happen to you. His hand strokes rhythmically up and down his hard shaft while the man’s blue eyes remain affixed to your face and naked body. He’s hardly even focusing on using the camera anymore, having set it down for a moment just so he can keep getting himself off. The more he strokes, the more he starts to groan and lean his head back in pleasure.

You breath and cry into Sven’s ear as he keeps pumping endlessly and roughly into you. You’re convinced that if he keeps this up, you’ll go numb. You’re already so tired from all the bondage and all the pounding Micah and Jude did. You can’t take much more of this.

Drool starts to drip out of the corner of your open, panting mouth, the longer you’re used, and you can hardly bring yourself to wipe It away with your arms still tightly wrapped around Sven. He huffs and growls into your ear as he concentrates on filling and stretching you out with his cock, stabbing in and out of you repeatedly. You can’t fathom how he’s able to keep this pace up so diligently. You want desperately for him to start getting tired just so that he’ll slow down even a little.

It seems that even Jude manages to spurt out a few globs of cum from his own dick as he starts to release from masturbating. The man leans his head back and lets out one final, long groan as more and more of the sticky substance expels from the tip of his head like a goddamn volcano. You watch with a flushed face as the stuff dribbles down his tip and shaft, and as Jude’s chest heaves with heavy breath upon having finished.

“Fucking god damn, you’re clamping hard around me,” Sven grunts into your ear as he continues pushing hard into your pussy. “Wanna squeeze me dry, whore? You’re gonna milk me either way.”

His fingers press firmly into the skin under your thighs as he assures his hold on you. “You want me to fill that pretty little cunt with more cum, don’t you?”

You can hardly respond with any kind of protest, still panting loudly into Sven’s ear. Every thrust he makes into you causes the skin of his forearms to brush against your thighs and ass. Your body feels like a goddamn piece of meat right now with how limp and powerless it is against your assailant’s use of it.

The only thing you can muster out is a whiny, “I’m…”. This is enough for Sven to get the picture. You want to come, and he’s going to make you. Every hit against your crotch and clit, every rough dominant pound of his stiff shaft into your tired cunt, every breath against your neck and grunt into your ear only leaves you wildly dizzy and flushed. You want Sven to come already.

From the looks of it, even Jude can tell the both of you are ready to explode. Neatly, the man wipes his hands on a towel he procured from one of the cabinets, and only once they’re clean does he take hold of the camera again. You tremble thinking of the horrible picture of yourself you’re going to be forced to see, but right now your attention is so focused on being used by Sven that you can’t even think on it long. Your eyes widen as the man thrusts upward in just the right spot this time, your cunt now aching with desire when Sven works you just like you need.

A squeal escapes your throat for just a moment, but even then it’s enough to entertain the man forcing you to feel good. His concentration remains unmoved nonetheless as he repeats the same motion against your g-spot, rubbing and thrusting against it hungrily.

“That’s it, whore,” he cackles. “Cream all over my cock. Milk it good.”

The drool from your mouth is now just leaking from it as your squeaks and girlish cries fill the air. Each hard pound into your wet hole makes such awful squelching noises emanate from the contact. You’re so out of it now that you can’t hold it anymore.

A loud cry leaves your throat as you come, your body helpless to Sven’s pounding as the spark of lust wells and explodes inside of you. Your voice quivers and wavers with each shaking movement of the pounding you take.

Unfortunately, it’s now that Jude decides to snap a photo of you. The familiar sound of the shutter closing and capturing such a dirty moment in time sounds off. Your face is red, your mouth is wet with saliva, your tongue Is out—it’s embarrassing.

Sven starts to growl and grunt harder as he gets off on having broken you in. You soon feel the desperate pulsing of his cock, a sensation that only adds to your pleasure as you ride out your orgasm. In moments, Sven’s cum spurts thickly into your pussy, filling you right up and mixing with whatever’s left of his partner’s sloppy load. So hungry for pleasure, your cunt slurps up every drop it can, though the rest of it drips down over Sven and down your thighs and ass. You don’t want to feel this good. You shouldn’t with how sore you are, but Sven refuses to let an opportunity to turn you into the little whore he thinks you are slip by him.

The man’s pumping pace does finally start to slow to a grind, but his cock continues to spill more and more cum into you. You almost can’t believe how much the fucker has to give, and go limp wondering how much longer he’s going to fill you for. But, fortunately, it does end after a while.

You’re left leaning limply against Sven’s shoulders, sucking in tired breaths. Now that the pleasure has started to ebb, you realize just how much more sore you are from all the incessant pounding. Your legs and pussy are all just so fucking tired.

“Take a look at your pretty face, girl,“ Jude laughs from beside you. To your dismay, he displays the picture to you. The sight of Sven holding you in such a vulnerable state, and the sight of your pleasured profile only leaves you no less embarrassed than you had been when shown all the other horrible photos.

Sven chuckles and squeezes at the wet skin on each side of your lips playfully while you keep trying to breathe. “You should see her right now, Sven. She looks ready to collapse.”

When he shows his partner the photo, Sven merely smirks. “Figured she’d break. But I’m not exactly done here. We still got two more shots, after all. Might as well use ‘em.”

You gasp as Sven steps away from the wall and turns toward the bed to start carrying you toward it. Not once does he pull out of you, leaving his cock still wet inside your pussy. Your head turns a bit in a panic, your eyes settling on the bed frightfully.

“More?!” You squeak. “I can’t!”

“You’re gonna,” Sven says without hesitation. He practically throws you and himself on the bed, your back now pressed along its width. The sheet brushes against your flesh softly,

“I’m already sore!” You grunt, dropping your arms now and trying to shove Sven off of you. Even all the pleasure you were forced to endure hasn’t melted away the discomfort in your torn up cunt. “Stop!”

“Shut your mouth,” Sven spits. He then nods his head back at Jude behind him. “Hey, put that camera down and hold her fucking arms for me.”

Jude tuts as he steps over to the other side of the bed. “Like I said, you really don’t give a shit about art. But fine, if getting your rocks off is all you want.”

Sven laughs, completely ignoring your fruitless attempts to push him off of you. “Like you’re not some horn dog yourself, you goddamn skeeze.”

Jude, having set the camera beside you somewhere, now roughly grabs your wrists and raises both arms high above your head. You grunt and squirm in his grasp, but his grip is far too tight to break.

Rather than keep hovering over your body. Sven grabs your thighs again and pulls you down the bed a little more, just enough so that your legs are dangling a bit off it. Like he had against the wall, Sven keeps your legs spread, this time pressing each of your thighs against his hips to keep you in place. Your knees remain bent, your feet now dangling helplessly.

Sven gives a devilish laugh at the sight of your frightened face. Wasting no time, he presses hard into you once more. As if he never even stopped fucking you against the wall, he picks up his pumping pace again, thrusting his hips wildly against you.

This is too fucking much. You don’t want more cum. You don’t want to be filled up anymore! But all you can manage to do is whine and cry while Sven fucks you mercilessly. The man merely breathes laughter in amusement all the while, gleefully, as if raping you is just some fun game for him.

Your breasts bob up and down rapidly with each forceful, rapid thrust inside you. Both men merely watch your body succumb to the pounding with enthusiasm. Sven, especially.

“Go on, baby,” he teases. “Cry all you want. You’re not stopping any of this.”

Your eyes glaze over, your vision growing blurred as you go numb from all the fucking. Once more, you can’t manage to talk back now that you’re being fucked against your mattress without a care in the world. Your legs are limp against Sven’s hips, your eyes rolling back into your head with each pump and thrust against your sopping cunt. At some point, you can’t even fight anymore. When even your arms go limp again. Jude sees no reason to keep holding them and simply lays each one back on the bed, elbows bent and wrists on either side of your head.

“She’s losing her damn mind!” he laughs, watching your wrecked expression. Sven merely grins wickedly.

“Little bitch telling me she doesn’t want it. What a joke. She always comes from being raped.“

You can’t even bring yourself to be offended by the words, nothing but hot, rapid breaths coming out of your open mouth while your mind goes blank from the violent fucking. You notice Jude starting to stroke his cock above you, his blue eyes fixated on your face while he does it. A part of you is so far gone that you even want him to stick the thing in your mouth. You can’t stand being this way, but you’re losing your mind. Even through all the pain and misery, it feels good.

Despite fighting with yourself, your body begins to give in. Your initial cries of discomfort now roll into long, whiny moans that feel almost involuntary at this point. Whatever control you had has now been utterly taken by your body’s impulsive wants. Your pussy’s utterly wet and warm and numb with lust, taking Sven’s merciless cock without issue now. Though you want this all to end, your body’s powerless beneath him and begging to be filled again.

“Fucking god damn,” Sven grunts as his pumping pace briefly pauses so that he can catch his breath. “She’s swallowing me up.”

Jude chuckles above you, his cock continuously being stroked by his own touch. “Then give her what she wants, Sven. You gonna let her outlast you?”

This only makes Sven growl and start up with his forceful thrusts again. He hardly bothers to bark back at his partner for the remark, wholly fixated on getting himself off with your body. The sudden pause had only given you a brief respite from the numbing pleasure, but when it starts up again, you feel the spark of lust even more strongly. The man’s finally pounding against just the right spot, scratching your itch. In response, your fists start to clench, and your toes curl as your body starts to well with the desperate desire to come again.

Sven watches your overwhelmed and blissed face, grinning all the while. “Not so ‘sore’ now, are you, girl?”

He stops pumping rapidly and instead pounds one powerful thrust of his cock into your cunt, holding his position a moment before repeating the same, single motion again. The hard thrust only creates a loud, wet slapping noise as his crotch meets yours. The rough movement only leaves you yelping, this time in pleasure, once for each time he pulls away and slams back in.

“Though, you’re probably gonna have a little difficulty walking tomorrow,” Sven goes on as his hands wrap tighter around your open legs. “Now tell me you wanna come and I’ll let you.”

You shut your eyes In frustration at the slowed movements. You’re too embarrassed to admit you want to let go.

“N…no,” you refuse when you can manage to make words. Sven scoffs and gives another hard slam into your cunt, making you cry out.

Again, he insists. “Tell me. That you want. My fucking cum.”

You start to feel tears pooling in your eyes. This is humiliating. However, your body wants to be fulfilled now that you’ve come this close to another release. You deserve that much for all this bullshit.

“No, don’t cry,” Sven spits. “Beg.”

Through your tears, you can see Jude getting off to your miserable state. His hand keeps moving up and down his shaft, and he’s letting out long huffs of eager breath the closer he gets to coming. You don’t want to be the only one not enjoying themselves.

Finally, you give in.

“P-please fuck me,” you beg. “I want your cum inside me.”

“Tell me you’re a little whore,” Sven presses further, grinning. “Tell me you like being raped.”

You grit your teeth at this order. How much more is he going to keep torturing you this way?!

“I’m a little whore,” you obediently relay these words while choking back more tears. “I…”

You yelp at Sven thrusting hard into you once more time. His wicked smile does not fade.

“Say it. Beg me to keep raping you.”

You shut your eyes and turn away, the teas rolling down your cheeks now starting to slide over your nose and lips. You don’t want to say these awful things. Even if Blue’s words to you were important, how can you bring yourself to give into an order like that?

A hard slap meets your thigh as Sven’s hand comes crashing down upon it, the sudden pain causing you to whine. Though it hurts, you hate to admit the contact feels pleasurable in its own way too. The skin there starts to sting once Sven’s hand leaves it.

“Go on,” he commands, his voice firmer now. “Fucking whore.”

You start to sob. “Please rape me.”

Sven merely relishes in your defeat a moment, smirking pleasurably before finally picking up his pace again. After adjusting his grip on your legs a bit, he continues to pump deeply into your sopping cunt, forcing you to take him over and over until you can’t think anymore. Even then, the tears you started letting out continue to fall, and you blankly turn your head to face the door while both men get off on your body.

In moments, Jude above you starts to huff and groan heavily as he reaches his own climax. His cock twitches above you, and soon he shoots out more cum. Rather than trying to get it in your open mouth or let it drip down off him, he purposefully brings his cock close to you and lets his load shoot out onto your face and chest, continuing to rub his hand up and down his shaft all the while to make sure he’s milked dry. You do nothing more than lay there in defeat, letting yourself get shot with cum. You don’t care anymore.

Only after Jude’s dirtying of you does your body finally respond to Sven’s constant pounding. Your cheek rolls against the mattress as a high, breathy moan escapes your lips. All your sobbing is replaced by girlish noises of weary pleasure. You don’t have the energy to keep crying out loud.

“Fuck…” Sven grunts as you start to breathe in deeply upon reaching your peak. “I’m gonna come. You better drink it all up, little bitch.”

Sven keeps pounding away hungrily, desperate to fill you. Without further warning, his cock begins to pulse and twitch, and the man lets out a roaring groan of pleasure. Finally at his peak, Sven pumps your cunt full of more and more of his thick, warm cum, practically coating your insides with it in a wild show of dominance. He refuses to let your legs move an inch until he’s finished, his fingers gripping you’re your flesh tight as he fills you as much as he can.

Drool spills out of your mouth as Sven’s cock shoves and spurts every bit of his load deep into you. Coupled with the warmth of Jude’s semen trailing all over your face and chest, you’re left feeling blanketed in a disgusting, musky warmth.

Your eyes slowly roll back as your body is filled, your legs hanging limply at Sven’s sides while he holds them open and pounds his spilled seed further into you. Your body trembles and shakes in his hands, left weary and shaken from every bit of abuse.

You’re so out of it now that you don’t even register the lens now hovering over your face.

Click.

Your eyes wearily trail up to the side and finally stare back into the camera lens, held now by Jude. His hands have already been cleaned off. He’s simply watching with glee from behind the camera, eyeing your creamed-up face with fascination.

“Perfect!” he speaks with a twisted glee to his voice. “I guess it’s good that your face was turned over to hide that damn scar. I was aching for a nice closeup shot.”

There’s no reaction on your face as you watch the photo expel form the slit of the camera beneath the lens. Jude even tries to show you its face, but you can’t fully process it with how glazed over your vision is from the tears and the forced pleasure.

You really don’t even register when Sven stops pumping into you with how numb your body is now. The only thing you can feel is him finally pulling out, leaving a trail of warm juices dribbling from your abused cunt.

“Ah, fuck me that was good,” he breathes, dropping your legs and standing straight. “Hey, give me the camera. I wanna take this last one.”

“Really, now?” Jude seems surprised, but hands his associate the camera anyway. “Inspired, are we?”

“Yeah, yeah,’ Sven huffs as he parts your limp legs to spread them wide open. Once he has you in position, he points the camera lens at your sopping pussy and snaps a photo of it. “Now there’s a money shot if I’ve ever seen one. That thing looks wrecked.”

Both men clean themselves off, using different towels to mop up their sweat and cum. You, however, are confined to the bed, left spread open and dirty. You, meanwhile, turn your head over, letting your other cheek brush against the mattress so that you can watch the men on a counter near your left. Like giddy schoolboys, they’re observing the photos with a twisted glee.

How disgusting.

Refreshed, Jude looks over at the photos on the counter and opts to pluck one from the surface. Much to the currently-dressing Sven’s surprise, his partner tucks one into his pants. You don’t know which he chose, but you’re not so sure you want to know.

“Hey, the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Sven questions in surprise, swatting the back of his hand against Jude’s arm. “You’re gonna get your ass in trouble.”

“He’s not gonna check down there,” Jude assures him. “He never does.”

Sven remains bewildered, almost offended, even. “Wait a minute, you’ve done this before? When the hell were you going to tell me?”

“Just a few times” Jude tries to downplay the offense. You realize the man has a collection of these photos somewhere, if you’re not the first girl he’s taken a souvenir from. This only makes you sick to your stomach. “I can’t really help it. Some girls look good all messed up like that. I don’t have to tell you twice.”

Sven zips his pants up and lowers a brow. “Alright, fine. But why bother drumming up stroke material when you can get the real deal down here?”

He gestures to you on the bed. “You can have these slutty fucks any time you want.”

Jude merely chuckles knowingly in response as he buckles up his belt. “You’ve always been the straightforward one. I never said I jerk off to these. I like collecting them. I was the one who suggested it the first time after all. I only wish I could have kept a real souvenir instead of some digital copy. Now I can, if I’m careful. Even he can be fooled.”

He then turns his head to you on the bed, aware that you’d been staring this entire time. “As long as you don’t say a word, pretty one, we won’t have a problem. If you go getting me in trouble, maybe I’ll take it up with my good friend Milos. I’m sure he’d be fine terrifying you for an evening.”

“If you gotta stand here making threats, might as well just leave the damn picture,” Sven continues to give his disapproval. “He might count them. And what’s with you making fun of me for being all energetic about a good lay when you’re over here getting excited over a piece of paper?”

It’s as if you don’t exist to Sven now that he’s bothered to get his fill of you. In part, you’re glad he’s done, but you also can’t help but feel like you’ve just been tossed aside all the same.

Jude shakes his head. “You’re not at an age where you can appreciate small things like this. You know, admire it for its beauty rather than just seek to get a forward pleasure from it. You’re still way too focused on getting off as much as you can. In any case, the workers usually dispose of these. He won’t see them. I doubt he’d even want to.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sven laughs. “Like I didn’t just see you get off just watching someone get her brains fucked out. You’re no different than anyone here.”

Both men start to head toward the door, leaving you a mess on the bed. As Jude passes your bed, he chortles a bit. “There’s something about the titillation too, Sven. Photos of young women in compromising positions can be very good eye candy. You never do listen.”

He sighs then, almost longingly. “Wish I didn’t have my things confiscated so damn much.”

Before the door shuts, you hear Sven give groan “Don’t tell me you’re gonna start popping off about the ‘good old days’. I had to hit puberty with tapes and magazines too, jackass. It’s not that great.”

Finally, there’s silence. As you lie there soaked in juices, you wonder: is that it? Though expected, it still stings that neither man even acknowledged you after all that grueling use of your body. You almost feel dejected. Worthless.

You want to bring your arms down and shut your legs, but you’d rather not at the risk of being reminded how much cum is all over you. The smell of it is bad enough. You’d rather not feel the slippery texture on your flesh and in your fucked up cunt.

Unfortunately, it dawns on you after a while of awaiting a slumber to take you out of this place that nothing’s happening. This only infuriates you when the assumption is made that Sven and Jude purposefully kept the anesthetic from being pumped in the room just to make you suffer like this. While maybe it’s a far-fetched thought, you also wouldn’t put it past the men to fuck you over that way.

Even though you’re beyond exhausted from being pounded so much into today by three men, you’re unable to fall asleep on your own right now. Your self-awareness of all the sticky cum in your pussy and on your face make it hard to sleep peacefully. All you can do is shut your eyes and wait.

Eventually, your door opens, and the sound of shuffling of multiple, silent bodies comes into the room. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not at all eager to have anyone see you like this. Evidently you can’t hide from them, but the dark veil of your eyelids is enough to help feign ignorance.

Though initially you hear nothing but the same shuffling of tired bodies, you soon feel a presence above you, one that blocks some of the light of the room that licks at your eyelids. Only after it gives an unsatisfied exhale does it shuffle away. Curious, you just barely open one eye and peek at your surroundings, noting a few workers in the room beginning to clean up the mess with various brought supplies. At the counter by all the photos is your doctor, looking down at the things. Because his back is toward you, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. It’s only the furious crumpling of all the photos in his hands that clues you in.

When Yosuke’s head picks up a bit, you again shut your eyes, worried that he’ll turn your way. Though, your efforts prove fruitless once he comes back your way. It’s the swiping of a moistened cloth over your face that causes your eyes to open fully this time, and you look on at your doctor’s stern olive eyes with worry.

“It’s alright,” he croons, focusing on wiping away all the muck on your face. “I’m here.”

“Why am I awake?” You question wearily, almost begging to know. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“I’ll take you,” your doctor assures, his voice gentle. Though, even through his tone, you can see the burning fire in his eyes. He’s furious. It’s only his want to attend to you that’s keeping his attention now.

Once your face has been wiped off with a towel, Yosuke moves to remove his lab coat and instead place it over your naked, limp body. Your eyes watch around the room as the workers start to clean up the floor and dispose of the crumpled photos on the counter. Any chance for The Overseer to count them is likely lost by this gesture.

You notice that amidst all the cleanup, the camera is nowhere to be seen. You suppose the men took it with them, though you’d not noticed right away. How sick that they expected not to be able to keep any photo they snapped yet delighted in taking the photos anyway. You’re not sure if Jude was serious about Milos, but you’re hardly willing to test it. For that reason alone, you won’t say a word.

“Come on. I’ll get you cleaned up.” Yosuke wraps his coat carefully around your body, then picks you up in his arms, cradling you gently.

Nothing is said as your doctor ferries your limp body to the showers, nor as he sits you on the floor and begins to wash you. The warm water falling on your skin admittedly feels good, at least. You’re not exactly happy to see Yosuke using the scented soaps, but you don’t have the energy to complain now.

Even though it’s awkward, you allow your doctor to brush your teeth, then bathe you. You stay still and let him scrub all over your breasts and thighs with a washcloth, and even between your legs with his fingers. This time, he hardly bothers to tease you.

“They embarrassed me,” you mumble. Yosuke lets out a pump of shampoo on your scalp and begins to scrub it in.

“I’m aware,” is all he says. “You’re safe now, dear. Don’t worry.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about it all day,” is Yosuke’s only answer. “You have the tendency to, darling. We may have been apart for a while, but I remember well how you are.”

You suppose this isn’t wrong. You’d have been dreading the visit the entire time had he not remained quiet.

“Those two have done this before, haven’t they?”

“Yes.”

“With all the girls?”

“Mostly.”

This makes your brows lower. “Why so late with me, then? If they’re so eager to snap shots of them corrupting someone innocent?”

“I don’t have an answer to that, dear. Perhaps they were arranging it beforehand and had to wait since you disappeared. It’s a meager guess, but not an impossible one.”

You frown. “Did they do this with others before coming here?”

Yosuke pauses his scrubbing of your scalp. “You don’t need the answer to that. It’s not your place to ask those questions.”

You suppose there’s probably cameras in the shower, too, and wind up agreeing with Yosuke. The subject is then dropped. However, you are made aware of the tender soreness in your lower body. It’s not painful, just…tired. Moving your legs around just leaves you with even more discomfort.

“They overworked me today,” you complain. “I’m really sore.” Yosuke exhales from his nose.

“I know,” he says simply, his voice still low. “I’m sorry, pet. I couldn’t say no and postpone it. But I suppose if you want to be positive about it, things could have been much worse.”

You hold your arms tight, recalling Jude’s last words to you. “You mean with Milos?”

Yosuke rinses your hair off. “In general, Ten. Anyone here can hurt you terribly if they so choose.”

“Not just them,” you remind him. “You’re taking care of me now. You’re being sweet with me. But I haven’t forgotten all the times you kept going when I begged you, cried for you to stop. All the times you forced yourself onto me and made me feel weak and just kept using me. And even though you try to play nice, I know that when you want something from me, you’ll take it. Anyone can hurt me. Even you.”

Once you’re clean, Yosuke shuts the water off and takes a towel from the top of the door, starting to pat your body down with it. He looks you in the eye from behind his frames, straight-faced.

“Even me.”

No other words are really exchanged after this affirmation. Yosuke simply finishes drying your body and hair, dresses you with a fresh gown, and ferries you back to your room where he lays you down in the nice cool sheets of your bed. Once you’re in place, he wraps up the comforter around your body and pets your head sweetly.

“All better?” He asks. Even with the kind words, you can still tell he’s reeling from having seen you so used by other men. You simply nod while turned over on your side, nuzzling against your pillow.

“Do I have a visit tomorrow?” You ask. Yosuke shakes his head. “Not in the morning, and not with anyone rough. I suppose you’ve gotten some of the worst out of the way.”

“Some.” You say it so bitterly. “Not for long, either.”

Yosuke sighs, though his petting of you doesn’t let up.

“Dear, please just try to hold on. I promise I’ll help take care of you when you need me. That’s really all I can do now. For as long as my superior says this is how things have to be.”

Your hand grazes your cheek then, when his words somehow remind you about the scar.

“Did you remove all the makeup?”

“Yes,” you’re told. “I presume that was your mother’s handiwork?”

“Who else?”

Yosuke shakes his head. “I have no idea why she thinks putting makeup on fresh injuries is a worthy risk. The things that woman does for the sake of appearances…I’m not particularly pleased that she did it without consulting me. Still, I’ll check the cut tomorrow and try to disinfect it further if it looks like there’s a problem. Antibiotics are also an option if it looks bad. But I’m assuming she tried to keep things clean otherwise.”

You don’t really respond with more than a tired nod. With a silence falling in the room, Yosuke frowns. You can tell something’s grabbed his attention.

“Ten, the type of photos they took—those come from devices with limited shots,” he says. “There are usually eight per cartridge. I only saw seven on the counter.”

You look up at him woefully. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?” The man remains adamant. Firm. His anger, however, is not at all toward you. Maybe he wants both men to get in trouble as retribution for hurting you, however minor.

“Jude said he’d have Milos see me,” you try to explain. “I don’t want to have him see me so soon. I’m so tired already from today.”

Hearing you utter this only makes Yosuke grow more frigid and furious despite his straight face. You merely reach up and grab his wrist in desperation, curling your fingers around it tiredly.

“Please,” you beg girlishly. “And please don’t be so upset. I’m okay. I promise.”

Your hand slowly drops back to the bed as you watch nervously at your doctor’s silent contemplation. Eventually, he nods.

“Alright, pet. I’ll stay quiet for your sake,” he agrees, distracted by your babyish begging. Relieved, you lean back against the pillow and sigh lightly. Seeing you so down, Yosuke then tries to smile gently for you.

“Don’t worry. It’s all over for today,” he assures you. “I’ll let you sleep in a little tomorrow. I’ll even feed my pet a nice breakfast. Would you like that?”

There’s hardly any strength left to protest. You wouldn’t want to try even if you could now that you have the man back where you need him to be. So, you simply nod while staring blankly at what little of the floor you can see from over the side of the bed. Yosuke’s smile does not let up. He reaches his hand up and rubs delicately at your head, petting you sweetly.

“Are you sleepy, darling?”

Again, you nod. At this point, the day’s harsh visits are taking a toll on you. As it is, your body was so weak from all the horrors you faced while confined. Now you’ve been pounded away at and hit and thrown around and emotionally abused like nothing even changed. When you were told that people don’t look back here, maybe you really should have listened. Nobody seems bothered by your disappearance except your friends and your doctor. Easing back into using you like a doll has hardly been an issue for anyone. And, unfortunately, there’s still other doctors who have yet to see you. You hope to god that you get someone softer tomorrow.

Now you can’t help but wonder: Will people keep scheduling visits with you without any mercy? Without any break? If you’re badly injured enough to need a break, will The Overseer permit Yosuke to deny visits? Or will the man be so cruel as to ignore the need and force you to keep suffering without a moment’s reprieve?

The bitter thoughts swirling in your head are interrupted by the feeling of Yosuke’s hand meeting one of yours, which has its palm up and is resting against the bed. Your doctor’s fingers brush against yours, and, in an effort to keep his attention on you rather than any embitterment toward the abuse you took today, you curl your fingers in his, acting like the precious pet he wants you to be. Though, admittedly, a gentler touch is much preferred right now. You can’t much demand it from anyone you know so frivolously. Nobody you love is there for just you. So, for the moment, you’ll take this.

Yosuke’s olive eyes stay softly fixated on you, and when you bother to glance back up his way, he’s practically melting at your touch. He’s not accustomed to you behaving just like he wants. Maybe acting this way is just making things worse, but you won’t have the man riled up over anything. This is probably the better alternative.

What makes you mad, though, is that he’s seeking your affection when you’re the one who needs comfort. He’s distracted by your obedience. Enamored by your babyish cozying up to him like a precious thing. Does he really even care that you suffered? Or is he just pretending to?

There’s no time to really ponder it when your doctor then leans down and plants a gentle kiss upon the side of your head.

“Get some sleep, then, dear,” he croons. “You need it. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

He seems unwilling to leave your touch, but Yosuke does not linger. He leaves you alone, wrapped up in your comforter, and lets you drift off. Now that you’re in a comfortable bed with clean clothes and a freshly showered body, you’re not too hesitant to sleep. You practically drift right off the moment you know Yosuke is gone.

---

You’d wanted a much more pleasant dream, but all you drum up is being trapped in a maze of some kind. Not at all like the garden maze you’d dreamt of prior, but rather a wholly white-walled one, bright and ominous. At first, you almost think the dream is real with how similar some of the white scenery is to the walls you’ve seen. But the moment you can gather where you are and that you don’t remember getting here on your own, it becomes clear just what’s happening.

Every long stretch of hall that doesn’t immediately lead to another part of the maze ends in a bright light that almost looks ethereal. You start to walk down the cornered pathways, trying not to rush or panic at the uncertainty of what’s going to happen when you know it’s only going to make you more frightened. At some point, you decide to try turning around to go back from where you came once you hit a dead end, but to your dismay, there’s a wall behind you now. You hadn’t noticed that it was trailing you this entire time.

Initially, you start desperately beating at it in the hopes the thing will give way, but this proves pointless. Instead, you look up at the top of the wall in worry, your heart starting to pick up in rhythm as being trapped between four walls leaves you nervous. You don’t want to ride out the rest of the dream like this. You don’t want to be stuck here.

To make matters worse, the sound of loud cracking goes off from beneath you, and when you look down, the floor beneath you is filled with scraggly lines and cracks that shine as brightly as the ends of the long halls. Before you can even try to reach up toward the walls to attempt climbing them, the ground gives way, and you let out a loud scream as you fall into a pure-white abyss.

Your eyes shut so that you can avoid acknowledging the horrible feeling, but almost in an instant, you’re soon caught by what feels like hands.

When you open your eyes again, there are colorless hands everywhere, protruding out of the white space and grabbing at every part of you.

“N-no, please!” You beg, as if it’s going to make a difference. Your voice merely echoes into the enveloping void.

You’re laid down in the white abyss, on what feels like solid ground despite there being nothing around you. The hands that have broken your fall then begin to endlessly grope you, no inch of your body spared by the unwanted touches. Some are mere gentle pets of your stomach and head, but others are much rougher grips on your thighs, crotch, chin, and hair. Any attempts to fight back results in more hands gripping at your wrists and ankles and any other part of you they can reach.

At first, the hands had moved slowly toward a designated area, as if knowing where to go. But the more you struggle, the more violent and desperate they become, gripping you tightly and swiping hungrily at any part of your body that isn’t already being felt up by fingers and palms. In a panic, you thrash about and cry desperately for help, but nobody is around.

Hands pet and grope at your body, lifting your gown and reaching beneath it. Endless fingers rub against your breasts and stomach and panties and cheeks, even hooking into your mouth and toying with your tongue. You can do no more than beg to be let go, but the hands remain upon you. Left helpless, your eyes shut, and you begin to go limp and let yourself be touched, hoping that this will help lead to the end of your nightmare.

It’s the sudden sound of something crunching that snaps you awake. You lay shivering in your bed, arms bent and raised up toward the sides of your pillow, and chest sucking in deep breaths of air. Your eyes widen, and your heart continues to pound even when you realize you’ve awoken. Though, you aren’t precisely happy to know you were right about the proposed method of escape when you learn just what’s going on.

Again, the crunching is heard, and you fearfully shift your gaze toward your desk only to see a black leather bag perched atop it. The next thing your eyes lay upon is Lucius, leaning against the wall by your desk and munching on an apple. He hardly looks up at you until his fruit has been consumed, and only then does he place it down on the desk and shift his dark eyes toward you.

“It’s both embarrassing and frustrating that I have to come pester you twice in one day,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. He folds his arms and frowns. “I was hoping to be rid of you, not get subordinated into being your watchdog.”

You finally bring yourself to move after the initial shock of seeing the man again. You hardly do more than sit up, hands pressed into the bed and eyes fixated fearfully on The Overseer’s hitman.

“What are you going to do?” You know this has something to do with your slip-up earlier.

“Be a little more patient, princess,” is Lucius suave reply. “Though, you must know why I’m here if you’re so terrified of my presence.”

You look away. “I messed up.”

“Perceptive. Yes. Naturally, he anticipated you’d be that phenomenally stupid. So, don’t fret. There’s no need to worry about dying this time.”

You watch nervously as his pale hand reaches over to the bag on your desk and plucks it from the surface. Lucius brings himself over to the foot of your bed and places the bag on the mattress, standing before you while he unzips one of the frontmost pouches of the thing. You’re unable to see what he’s doing, but hear nothing but plastic crinkling and clacking, and other shuffling noises as the man digs through his stuff.

“Nonetheless, he wants me to make sure you know what you did was wrong. My superior hardly likes people who peck about what isn’t their business. He especially doesn’t want you to get so comfortable being back here that you forget his warnings.”

“I haven’t!” You promise. “But all this over just a question about what the doctors do? Is that really too much?”

“That’s not the point, is it, girl?” Lucius finally flickers his eyes up to you. His hands retract from the bag, revealing a few items in his grasp that look to be first aid supplies. But, unfortunately, mixed among those items is a scalpel. A lump forms in your throat as you eye the thing. “You made a deal with the man. You promised to behave and not be so greedy about trying to learn things. You’ve done well enough with Yosuke and the other prisoners so far, but you still seem to struggle with most everything else. We shouldn’t have to keep reminding you.”

To your unease, the man sets the items down upon the mattress, by the bag. Once his hands are freed, Lucius lifts up the comforter over your feet and ankles, exposing the bottom half of your legs. The cold air licks at the bare flesh.

Lucius’ first order of business is to take a wipe primed with some alcohol-based substance and emitting an invasive, harsh odor, and use it to wipe down your left foot. You stay perfectly still, if watching nervously as the cold, wet thing is rubbed along your skin. Once Lucius is done, he discards the thing somewhere to the side.

The scalpel, which had a plastic cover atop it, is then next plucked and uncapped by the man. You merely sit there, trembling as you can gather what’s about to happen. You don’t even know what time of day it is, or whether you’ve been asleep for very long. Will Yosuke suddenly show up and see Lucius tormenting you? There’s no way he won’t at least know someone was in here.

“There is one thing, though, that he wants me to remind you of other than to not be so frivolous in digging for information,” he says. Lucius then finally smiles his cold smile at you, while his other hand grips your left ankle and lifts up the pad of your foot, just enough so that he can see it clearly. “Do refrain from flustering Doctor Santos so much. She’s quite sensitive, and you have a habit of provoking her. She doesn’t much like to think about certain things, nor should she.”

Before you can ask why, Lucius grips your ankle more firmly, as if to signal you not to speak. “We don’t want you taking advantage of her because she’s so new. We know what you’re doing, Ten. We’d prefer you didn’t.”

Maybe you are guilty of trying to peck at Monica more because she’s so new and so gossip. In fact, that was your initial thought upon first meeting her. You just don’t like all the secrecy. Especially with her, something just feels constantly off. But you’d be remiss to protest now.

Lucius’ smile does not budge, and he looks on at you so perfectly calm. “Now don’t shake, princess. It’ll make the lines uneven.”

Lines?! As in more than one?

You try to steady your breathing while fixating utterly on the man’s grip of you. Lucius can’t help but find your terror fascinating, as he watches on with fixated dark eyes. Your toes curl instinctively when the sadistic doctor brings the tip of the scalpel to the topmost point where the ball of your foot meets the rest of your digits.

Without hesitating, Lucius pierces the flesh, the sensation of being cut leaving you wincing and sucking in pained breaths through your teeth. Amused by your reaction, Lucius smiles to himself, eyes now fixated on his work as he, bit by bit, drags the scalpel down toward the heel. You grit your teeth and grip the sheet of the bed, feeling nothing but a singing pain down your foot.

“Now relax,” Lucius tells you with a casual demeanor. “I’m not cutting as deep as you might be perceiving. Your panic is only making this worse. This is just supposed to make a lasting, uncomfortable impression.”

You gasp and sigh in pain as Lucius retracts the scalpel. However, he isn’t done. Rather than drop it on the bed, he takes the point and drags it horizontally across the middle of your foot, cutting into the arch. You whine in shock at the horrible slicing sensation of the blade as it crosses the middle portion of the first cut.

“I don’t see the need for me to keep doing this kind of thing,” Lucius says, ignoring your pained whimpers. “But if you continue to make more mistakes, then you can expect I’ll be there to correct them. Surely you understand that.”

Finally, Lucius finishes his task and fully retracts the scalpel. Rather than leave the now-bloody thing on the bed, he caps it back up first. Once he’s done, Lucius takes a clean cotton pad from the mattress and dabs at the blood now running slowly down your foot. You hang your head back and continue to grit your teeth all the while, the stinging in your flesh refusing to go away. It’s so horrendously uncomfortable. You instinctively want to try kicking away or rotating your foot in the hopes that the movement will bring you some kind of relief, but ultimately know that the pain will persist in your skin no matter what.

Lucius’ smile does not fade as he cleans you of blood with the cotton, nor when he uncaps an unmarked tube and expels its creamy contents on your wound. The smell of whatever medicated ointment he’s slathering on your foot is unbearably unpleasant, though the stuff does leave a temporary numbing sensation over the cuts that provides a brief respite from the pain. Meanwhile, you can do no more than breathe in an attempt to keep yourself calm after the initial panic. Yes, Lucius is just doing this. He won’t hurt you otherwise. At least, you hope he won’t.

Your ankle is continually held tight in Lucius’ grasp, the man relying solely on one hand to dress your wound with gauze. He wraps the stuff carefully around your foot, leaving a fresh, thick cotton pad on the underside of the thing to absorb any remaining blood.

Once the area has been disinfected and dressed, Lucius finally drops your ankle, and lets your leg rest on the bed. By now, you’ve laid back down on your pillow, one arm pressed against your forehead to block out the light of the room from your eyes. You’re still so tired. Being left fearful and given yet another injury isn’t helping that whatsoever.

“Why bother dressing It if you’re trying to punish me?” You breathe, still desperately trying to come down from the shock. Lucius packs the rest of his things, leaving the trash on your bed for the moment.

“This is only to inconvenience you,” he says. “Each time you take a step, you’ll remember to tread carefully, won’t you? Do the same for your words next time. In any case, it’ll heal right up in a few days, unless you put so much pressure on it that the wound opens up. But like I said, it isn’t that deep a cut. Don’t be so dramatic, princess.”

He then frowns, his fractured brows slightly lowering. “And don’t make me come back here. I hate running these errands. I wanted our meeting in recovery to be the last. I suppose it’s unfortunate how things play out.”

You scowl. “This hardly feels fair. I just made a mistake. I even caught it just after.”

“Then work on catching it beforehand. It’ll save you much more pain.”

“I understand. I’m doing what I can. But it’s not like I can’t handle that pain when it comes, either.”

“You’re hardly convincing me by the way you whine when injured.” Lucius scoffs in annoyance. “You’re like a child.”

He then moves to discard his medical waste and the apple core in your bathroom bin. When he returns, you ask him,

“Why is this so important?”

“Why is what so important?” The man questions unhappily as he reaches toward his bag.

“I mean, if pestering the doctors over their histories gets me cut, then what words would get me killed?”

Lucius loudly zips his bag closed and glances over at you, a cold smile forming again on his face.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Obviously not,” you reply bitterly, shifting your eyes away. Lucius merely chuckles and brings his hand up your leg, brushing aside the comforter and watching your face as its eyes slightly widen, when you realize what he’s doing. The horrible nightmare of being felt up still lingers in your mind now. You’re a bit shaken by the reminder, living the ordeal as Lucius feels you up.

You freeze as the man moves along your thigh, trailing his cold fingers up and pushing aside the hem of your gown. Only when he reaches close to your crotch does he stop and finally pull away. Lucius smirks as you finally unfreeze and let out a bothered sigh. Your eyes remain affixed to the side even now.

“Did you expect more?” You’re teased. Lucius walks toward the head of your bed and leans down, close to your ear. You remain frozen.

“Promiscuous little thing, you are.” Lucius’ hauntingly familiar low voice resonates deeply into your ear, sending cold shivers down your spine. “Being here grants me the perfect opportunity to inconsequentially entertain myself. But I said we were done, and I meant it.”

Is he affirming that there aren’t cameras in these rooms after all, and that’s why he’d have that opportunity? For certain? You’d always figured that was likely the case, but an affirmation like this from someone like Lucius is strange. A part of you wonders if he let those words slip on purpose. Nonetheless, you say nothing of it and keep it in your mind.

Realizing thankfully that Lucius has no intentions of forced sex when he stands back up, you gather yourself again and scowl. “I don’t know if I believe you. You seem to enjoy these visits.”

Something then clicks in your head when you again feel the stinging pain of your injured foot, and the subsequent rubbing of the gauze dressing against your flesh.

“Wait—Yosuke’s going to know you were in here,” you suddenly realize, finally looking up at the man hovering over your bed. “How am I going to explain this to him? He’s going to want to know why you were here. I can’t lie to him. But if I talk about my deal with your boss, he-“

“That’s not my problem any more than it is his,” Lucius interrupts you sharply. You frown.

“You two are just making things harder for me on purpose, aren’t you?”

“You did it to yourself, princess” Is Lucius’ response. You only take this as an affirmative answer to your question.

The sadistic doctor finally gathers his medical bag at the end of the bed, gripping the topmost arch of it in his pale fingers. “Handle the man as expected, as you have been. Doing so further should be yet another good exercise in submission. Apparently your miserable stay with us wasn’t enough.”

You wince again when moving your foot slightly brings another stinging wave of pain. “I wouldn’t say that. My time there was for nothing. I know how to be a certain way around you even when it terrifies me, even when it angers me. But I’m still prone to error like anyone else. Even you. Probably even him”

Lucius frowns and presses the pad of his finger on his free hand against the middlemost portion of your dressed wound. “Making mistakes can be costly. Just remember that, girl.”

The man hardly bothers to stay any longer, leaving you with those words and the fresh cut on your foot. You breathe a sigh of relief once he’s gone, and promptly cover your legs with the comforter. You don’t even wanna look at the gauze right now. Moreover, you aren’t really looking forward to breakfast if Yosuke’s going to demand an explanation for your wound. What will you even say to him? What will he do when he learns why you’re being so cozy with him?

You grumble and turn on your side, annoyed now that the fear has settled down. For a moment, you feel at your stomach while pondering the dilemma. There still isn’t much change in your belly. This is probably the only relief you have for the moment.

Still tired, you again nuzzle up against your pillow and try to shove Lucius out of your mind. Whatever time of the day it is, you don’t know, but you’re still fairly tired and decide to keep sleeping longer. You don’t want to think about Micah or Sven or Jude or Lucius. You don’t want to remember anything at all right now. Not the soreness in your body, not the abuse, not the fear—nothing.

You just want to rest. Even if your dreams turn into such twisted, awful nightmares, at least you can eventually escape from those.

Chapter 76: Rest Thirty One - Dressed

You don’t dream again, so tired this time that it feels more like all you did was blink. The next conceivable sensation upon your waking is the touch of a familiar hand on your forehead. However, you don’t bother opening your eyes right away, still in the mood to laze around in your bed. Laying on your side is too comfortable right now, even with your cheek and the side of your jaw digging into the pillow.

Unfortunately, there’s a pain in your foot that follows waking which shakes some of the pleasantness away. It only reminds you, so blissfully unaware for just that moment of grogginess, of what happened last night. Luckily, the sensation is nowhere near as bad as it had been when you were freshly cut. It merely stings, as most cuts on your flesh have before. Trying to flex your foot even the slightest bit only makes the pain more intense, so you leave it limp. However, you notice that it’s resting on something softer than your mattress…

“Ten.”

You suppose it’s pointless to keep enjoying the comfort of your bed. Not bothering to lift the left side of your cheek from the pillow, your eyes open and raise up toward your doctor’s kindly smiling face. He retracts his hand the moment he sees you’re up.

“Did you sleep well, dear?” He asks. You merely nod, causing him to laugh gently. “You certainly look comfortable. But I can’t have you lazing around all day today.”

Yosuke doesn’t let you sit up on your own, rather bending over and lifting your body up himself. He gently raises your pillow up and sits you against it. Being handled like this is beyond demeaning, but you’re still trying to fully wake up and don’t much resist it.

Upon being propped up, you catch sight of a different pillow under your injured foot likely taken from another room, one that’s elevating your limb. This makes your heart drop.

“Here.” Yosuke leaves to your desk to fetch a tray of food, and brings it to your lap, placing it atop the comforter covering your legs. You remain still, wrapping your arms under your chest and holding each opposite limb in a discomforted gesture. Knowing that you’re just going to be limp like this for meals isn’t exactly enthralling, but you don’t want Yosuke cross with you when he’s already probably extremely bothered about the injury on your foot. There’s no way he hasn’t seen it if he’s propped your foot up.

Seeing your doctor now, it’s not really even all that clear how he’s reacting. His pleasant smile only leaves you unnerved. Of course he’d have no reason to be upset at you, yet you can’t help feeling like you’re at fault, or that he thinks you are.

Your eyes trail over to the tray of food—a bowl of mixed fruit, some kind of omelet, and a slice of toasted bread with jam, it seems. Yosuke picks up a fork and pierces the flesh of a chunk of cantaloupe, then brings it to your mouth. By now, you’ve tilted your head back and leaned it lazily against the wall, expectant of your doctor’s action.

You don’t look at Yosuke standing at your bedside whatsoever as you let him slip the fruit past your lips and feed you like an animal. Even so, from the corner of your eye, you can see that same pleasant smile plastered on his lips. It’s hardly faded.

“How long until I get one of those ‘freedoms’ you mentioned?” You bitterly question. Yosuke pops another bit of fruit in your mouth.

“If you must ask, then you haven’t earned it yet.” He persists. “Now, how are you feeling, pet? Surely that rest did you good.”

You take a second to assess yourself, then shrug. “I’m still a little sore but feeling better.”

“I see.”

Your fed more fruit in a silence that continues to leave you uneasy. Only the sound of your chewing really breaks the quiet now and then. Yosuke, however, eventually bothers to bring up what you’ve been dreading.

“Your cheek doesn’t look like it’s getting infected, so it should heal evenly. I also dressed your foot again this morning, since there was a bit of blood poking through the first bandages” he says. “Though, I don’t recall you being injured there when I brought you here last night. Now you are. Do explain to me why that is, dear.”

His olive eyes finally flicker promptly to your face, and his smile fades. “You’re not being reckless, are you?”

“I didn’t do it to myself,” you tell him. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Did he come here?”

The sudden question makes your heart jump. Yosuke’s quick. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Your eyes shift away. “I don’t remember.”

Yosuke’s voice becomes stern. “Rose.”

He lowers the fork back onto the tray and grips your chin tight, turning your head toward his.

“I don’t like it when you lie,” Yosuke remains firm, frowning. “I shouldn’t have to remind you again. I want the truth.”

Your eyes widen a bit. You hadn’t expected to hear Yosuke’s favored name for you so suddenly. Is he really that upset? “I don’t…”

It’s pointless to lie further. Your first attempt wasn’t even really an efforted one. You just don’t want to be honest about something that’ll give your doctor a reason to take further advantage of what he deems his property by this point. He already made you say it. He wants you to validate his gross desires with your own words. You don’t think his order the other day was the last of that.

Yosuke sighs and finally drops his hand. “Dear, I don’t want to have to be mad at you. I suppose if anything, I am quite angry that Lucius is continuing to pester the both of us in his own way, even after his business has been done. I’ll not misplace that anger unto you. However, I see no reason why you’re hesitating to be honest. That I don’t like.”

“I have a lot of reasons,” you affirm. “Look, I don’t like that man any more than I like anyone else who works here willingly. But he’s been messing with me for a while and will probably continue to.”

“And why is that?”

You frown. The Overseer had said you could tell most anything to Yosuke if you liked, so long as his work remained uncompromised and you didn’t get personal about him and Lucius. That’s hardly the issue. You simply don’t want to tell your doctor everything, but it seems now you’re at an impasse. If you continue lying to Yosuke, his punishments might get worse. No doubt they’re going to be based in using you however the man feels like. His perverted fascinations must go beyond just fucking you hard into your mattress while you cry in agony.

Better to just get it the fuck over with. Neither you nor Yosuke are in the mood for this game.

“Because his boss wants him to,” you finally answer. “Your boss wants me to stay quiet about the things I experienced while he confined me, mostly to my friends. And if I mess up, he comes.”

Yosuke sighs and folds his arms. “You have tended to be lippy. Some of us have warned you about that.”

“I know,” you say, almost bitterly. It’s a fault you’re aware of. You need no reminders, yet receive plenty. “You all think I’m stupid, but I can’t help but be persistent. You of all people should know how I am about that.”

“I do, certainly. But you shouldn’t be so reckless, Ten,” you’re chided. “Of course I will always take care of you and tend to any injuries you receive, but it’s useless to keep getting yourself hurt like this on purpose. It both frustrates and pains me to see you like this.”

You shake your head. “But I know much more now than I used to! There’s so much going on that I just want to understand. I’ve said it so many times before, Yosuke. If it only costs me a few injuries, so be it. I hate being hurt, but if it means I can uncover more about this place-”

“Hush, now,” You’re cut off bluntly with a sharp tone from the man at your bedside. Yosuke gives you a straight face, but it’s not hard to read the subtle tinge of disappointment he’s giving off. Your doctor unfolds his arms and places a hand atop your head. “Knowing does nothing. It’s a false comfort. What you need is to let go.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t care because it’ll hurt me, right?” You’re prodded at. Though it’s not a baseless claim, it’s still presumptuous of him to think so. Not everything you do revolves only around your doctor. “But you forget it’ll hurt so many more people as well. People you care about. Don’t be selfish, dear.”

You look away as Yosuke’s hand drops from your head down do your chin. He doesn’t grip it as tightly as just earlier, remaining tender instead.

“Now pet, something is bothering me beyond just that,” he says, kneeling down by your bed and guiding your face back toward his. You’re forced to look directly into his olive eyes, completely deadpan and unyielding as they observe you. “Regardless of my opinion against it, I can understand Lucius’ task and my superior’s intent to keep you silenced through threats. But do tell me this—why has he let you remember everything you’ve learned to begin with?”

“I…” You’re at a loss for words. Or rather, you don’t know how to put everything into words. It’s not exactly easy to open up about to someone you can’t even trust.

Yosuke squeezes your chin. “Don’t lie, pet. Be honest. From the moment I got you back, the issue has sat in my mind. I noticed you were acting different toward me, yet I indulged without question. But with a sudden change in protocol that’s led to you being visited by someone else without my immediate knowledge? Well, now I can’t help but ask why.”

“I-I made a deal,” you stammer, reaching a hand up to Yosuke’s wrist and curling your fingers around it almost as if in a plea to be let go. You aren’t even being roughly talked to, but this feels like an interrogation. You’d rather make it easy this time and just push through this, even if you’ve been dreading it. “He wants me to be obedient to him and stay quiet, but…he also wants me to make sure you don’t cause him any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” Yosuke raises a brow. “Was he that bothered by my actions? Others have done much worse, I think.”

Does that matter?

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Your other hand clenches against the fabric of your comforter. Even you’re the fingers of your other hand press harder as they wrap more tightly around Yosuke’s wrist. “I don’t know why that man does anything. All I know is that I’m afraid of him and I don’t want to do anything to make him come and kill me.”

Yosuke’s straight face turns to one of concern when he sees the genuine fear in your eyes. There’s a slight quiver to your voice as well, one even you don’t notice until your words have been fully spoken.

“If you’re so scared of dying, why pry so much? You know better after everything you’ve been put through.”

“I won’t be killed for missteps or minor information,” you assert. “I’d be in danger if I blatantly went and told everyone everything I learned. This time it was just a mistake.”

Yosuke’s eyes only leave your face for a split second as he looks down in a brief contemplation. “Mm. And how long will it be until it isn’t?”

Again, you repeat the same three words. “I don’t know.”

Yosuke drops your chin and pushes off his knee to stand back up. Rather than stay standing, he finally brings your desk chair forward to sit in it. He replaces his touch of you with that of the fork from your tray instead, then quietly continues to feed you as he ponders your words.

“I don’t want you hurt without reason,” he eventually says. “Hurting you, punishing you, making less than pleasant arrangements—that should be my burden, not Lucius’ pleasure. I’ve said before I can’t really stop you from doing certain things when I’m not there to prevent it. I can only advise you to be careful. You know I worry.”

You say nothing as your doctor feeds you a rather tart strawberry, then a cut of the omelet. This isn’t going well, you think. Sure, Yosuke’s certainly able to take your explanation well despite his own feelings on the issue. He understands what’s going on quite readily now that you’ve given him just a little taste of the truth. Nonetheless, it’s not like this is a pleasant conversation to have or even think about.

Lucius is antagonizing you, and incidentally your doctor. He may not care at all for you, but it was quickly learned how much he likes tormenting others. As you slightly nuzzle the heel of your foot against the pillow it’s on, you think that Lucius is looking forward to you slipping up again. Yosuke referred to this as a pleasure for the man, and you think that’s far too accurate.

What makes all this worse is that Yosuke’s lips promptly curve in a smile as he has a private thought. The next words out of his mouth only further the discomfort.

“A deal, to keep me in line hm?” He almost laughs thinking of it. The transition is odd, but expected since he sometimes chooses to focus on one specific thing over the other. “How, exactly?”

“You already know.” You grumble before biting into another bit of omelet your doctor feeds you. Yosuke chuckles.

“Oh pet, I’m sure a part of you likes this. Having someone to take care of your every need, being cherished like a little doll.”

“You know I don’t like being babied,” you affirm after swallowing another bite. “We’ve talked like this so much and you never listen. But you’re who I’m stuck with so I have to deal with it. It’s just part of all this. This operation, and this awful place.”

Having finished with the fruit and main dish, Yosuke now brings a small plate with the toast on it toward your chin, lifting the bread to your mouth while keeping the plate hovering under you to catch crumbs.

“And how long did it take for you to finally learn that, dear?”

You scowl and say nothing. Quietly, your hands cup, one atop the other, in your lap while Yosuke keeps feeding you. So eager to get back to treating you like a doll, this act contents the man and quells his earlier frustrated state. Though, you know that the concern will linger in the back of his mind as it will in yours. Neither of you like this arrangement for different reasons, but at least Yosuke gets something out of it. You don’t.

All in all, he didn’t react as horribly as you thought, but you can never tell with this man. He may well choose to do something ridiculous to torment you and amuse himself. Will this gradually worsen his obsession, you wonder? Will he become even more monstrous and possessive?

It’s certainly not hard to open your mouth like this for him, or even to lay limp and let him brush your hair and bathe you and dress you. Though, it only adds to the unshakable feeling of helplessness fostered from day one of your residence in this twisted facility. If only you could just stop being so bothered by it all.

Though, this Is at least preferrable to being shoved and dragged around during visits. This all pales in comparison to the rough treatment of yesterday. Hopefully you can take whatever visit comes next with your body still a tinge sore. If you could garner some rest time from your doctor like the morning he gave you, you’re certain he’d allow as much rest as you need like before. As it is, sleeping in was one charitable favor you admittedly are glad for. But nothing’s really up to your doctor anymore. At best, you think he’ll have to ask for permission to make a decision of any kind, and it’s unfortunately possible The Overseer will refuse that permission simply out of spite toward the disobedience.

He’d trusted Yosuke once, right? Mixing that factor with the similarities between Yosuke and Richard, and how The Overseer must be so bothered by the slightest connection…that hardly helps keep such a trust strong. And with how often the man’s employees have acted aloof, you suppose it makes sense he’d be so harsh with Yosuke suddenly, even when he hasn’t done anything wrong before. Not to this extent.

Yosuke doesn’t really continue pecking at you after his last statement, still smiling as he feeds his pet every bite of food there is to be had on the tray. Again, you refuse to meet his gaze, and look the other way.

“How long was I asleep?” You soon break the silence.

“It’s not early anymore, but there’s still plenty of time for you to enjoy the day,” he says casually. “If that’s what it is you were hoping to know.”

He then nudges his thumb against the corner of your mouth, noting a few crumbs glazed with remnants of jam and butter. Chuckling, he leans in and licks it up before moving his lips over yours in a sweet kiss.

“Don’t make so much of a mess, my pet,” he teases you after pulling away. You remain despondent to the act, but don’t fight it nor make another snide comment, wanting only to go to the hall. Yosuke wipes the rest of your mouth and chin with a napkin, then drops everything onto the tray before standing and taking it back to the desk.

Him brushing your teeth and hair are other uncomfortable ordeals to endure, but you handle both the way he expects and follow every one of his sweet-voiced orders. You’re not brought to the bathroom, but rather have a hair brush, cup, and a toothpaste-ladened toothbrush brought to you on the bed.

Yosuke’s practically hamming it up now that you told him what you did, now that he knows you don’t want to upset him much. You suppose it couldn’t be helped, and had really expected no less from him anyway. Though, you find it odd that he’s so fixated on that aspect of your words now, rather than the fact that Lucius is still watching over you and that you’re still capable of being endangered so readily. What odd priorities he has. Unless it’s merely a distraction to deal with the difficulty of knowing you could be taken from him at any moment. You don’t much know.

Your doctor gives another round of darling praise to your obedience once he’s finished grooming you, followed by sweet kisses on your forehead and left cheek. Once he’s discarded the cup and cleaned both brushes, all that’s left now is…

“I’m going to have to carry you in, you know.”

Your heart skips a beat. You look up at Yosuke from the bed with worry. “W-what?”

“Beyond the gate,” Your doctor elaborates with a knowing smile. “I don’t want you walking on that foot, pet. You need to stay off of it and let it heal. If you do your part in taking care of it by not overworking yourself, it should heal quickly.”

“I can hug the walls and lean on my other foot,” you refuse. “Please, I don’t want the others to see me like this!”

“They know well how things are here as you do, so it shouldn’t be so strange to witness,” Yosuke refuses to let you fight it and starts to peel away your comforter, He scoops your body up and holds you close to his chest. “Be a good girl, Ten. It’s not worth fussing over something so simple. You handled being seen by the doctors just fine yesterday.”

You expel a breath from your nostrils and give up. Yosuke will do as he pleases regardless, so you merely lean into his chest and pout. “Can I at least pick the room?”

“Of course, my dear.” Without even having to look up, you can tell the man’s giving a cheeky little grin at your compliance. If he is that torn up over the ordeal with Lucius, his chances to render you helpless and hover over you are then his only solace.

That, you find, is a dangerous idea.

Being in the hall is luckily no issue this time, as the area is largely empty. As you pass each room in Yosuke’s arms, you mull over and over in your head what room would be the least populous right now. Any room is a gamble.

No, Yosuke isn’t wrong that you shouldn’t let it get under your skin to be seen this way by people who know how things are, but you still hate it. You’d also admittedly feel guilty if you stopped all chipper conversation because your doctor decided to be weird. The atmosphere in the rec room the day you met Pickle was already tense upon Nathaniel showing up, even if the mood lightened quickly afterward.

Strangely, Yosuke hardly talks while ferrying you down the hall. When you periodically glance up at him, he’s lost in thought. His distant stare, the kind he usually gives when he’s thinking, is unmistakable. His lips are pressed tight, even. Tighter than usual. You both have to put on acts around each other, it seems.

Only once you round the corner does his expression just slightly shift as his focus does. Since both his hands are occupied, he resorts to rapping on the close bottom half of the office door with his foot. You half expect Mom to emerge at the strange noise since your doctor always knocks instead, but it’s not her this time.

Monica’s head pokes out from the right of the door, visible from the open top half. Her brown eyes remain curious, her lips pursed. Once she sees you and Yosuke both, she gives a sweet, plump smile.

“I wasn’t expecting more to show up this late,” she says. “Mamita’s busy right now, if that’s who you wanted to see.”

Yosuke raises a brow. “You think I want to see her?” He questions with a slight tone of disbelief. “I’m not here for pleasantries. I’ve things to do.”

“You really should be more social, Yosuke,” Monica giggles. “But alright.”

Her brown eyes then fixate on you, her smile persisting. “Are you feeling alright, Ten?”

“I’m feeling like I really wanna get inside the hall,” you grumble, avoiding her gaze. Amused, the chipper doctor gives a light laugh and heads out, her pearly earrings bobbing around with her movements. How odd, that woman. She’s a little more chipper than usual.

The gate drags open, but Yosuke does not immediately move. He looks down at you, gently smiling.

“Where do you want to go?”

You hadn’t really thought of an answer yet. All you can say with certainty is that the rec room and cafeteria are probably your worst bets. If Two’s here, he might be in the arcade again, and you don’t doubt the music room and library are a bad choice either.

In the end, you aren’t sure. When your eyes scan the hall before you, all you can really think of is—

“…The gardens?” You don’t even sound sure of yourself, as if you’re answering a test question you didn’t study for. Though, you realize the moment that Yosuke starts to smirk at your answer why it wasn’t the best of choices. The reminder of that night isn’t at all comforting, but you didn’t choose the gardens without reason. It simply wasn’t that reason.

Maybe you just had something on your mind. Perhaps even…

“As you like, pet.” Yosuke hardly has to tease you about what happened there so long ago. Or at least, it feels like it’s been forever. Not like the consequences haven’t taken their toll regardless. Unfortunately, the subtle reminder painted in his coy voice only makes you mad. You were rendered helpless then and you continue to be left helpless now, but this time because you have to force yourself to be.

Does Yosuke think this sort of reminder is romantic? Precious? The only one here who’s fond of it all is him.

Your eyes fixate on the bluish cloth of Yosuke’s shirt while your mind runs through all those horrible events again. Maybe you should be glad you endured it all. It makes you a little stronger than you were before. But it’s still sick.

Yosuke brings you into the gardens, letting the doors part before he steps in. The colorful rows of flowers are at least beautiful eye-candy for you, enough to distract your terrible thoughts. But of course, Yosuke only butts in and makes things worse.

“You really want to spend your day here?” He asks, leading you down one of the rightmost rows so that he can place you against the wall and on the floor.

“No,” you refuse his teases. “I wasn’t sure where to go. I’m just glad there’s nobody here.”

Maybe that’s not entirely true.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed at this point,” you’re reminded as your body is lowered onto the ground. Yosuke, having knelt down, now leans upon his knee while his other hand reaches over to pet your head. “Now do remember to take it easy with that foot. You, my dear, tend to be a bit careless at times. I suppose I can’t stop you from trying to move around on your own when I leave, but I do expect you to be careful.”

“Okay.” You don’t want to let this go on much longer, so you don’t bother fighting. Precious time has already been spent in bed, and it won’t be long before you have to go back to it and see your doctor again anyway. Your hands lay upon your lap, and you mindlessly pick and pinch at the skin of each one. Yosuke’s face remains hovering a bit before yours, and his olive eyes continue to watch you. He says nothing, but brings his hand down against your cheek and rubs against it a bit.

You’re not quite sure whether he’s thinking about something else or what it might be, but the man doesn’t immediately leave you alone and continues to mull over something in his mind. When you bother to look his way, you see the remnants of an enamored expression, one you’ve seen once before.

When his eyes catch yours, he chuckles and leans in for a loving peck on your lips. You had hoped he was distracted by a worrisome thought or some “concern” for you, but now know well what he was really thinking, and how much he was enjoying relishing in the memory of it. How vile.

Your eyes, stern and filled with anger, trail your doctor as he stands back up and moves toward the garden entrance. Only when he finally leaves do you lean your head back and feel all the tension in your body melt away. Finally, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Turning your head to the right toward the other door in the room, your reason for coming here is even clearer. With the distraction of your doctor, it just wasn’t obvious at first.

Maybe it’s stupid to come back here when there’s no guarantee that he’ll be here, but a chance to see how Cyrus is doing isn’t one you’ll pass up. The only problem now is finding a way to get up and hobble over there without aggravating your foot. You dislike Yosuke’s coddling, but don’t disagree that it’s in your best interest to be careful with the injury.

It feels so stupid to just turn over and lay on your stomach first, but this is your initial approach. You drop to the ground and lay flat on the floor on your stomach, then pull your legs forward a bit until you’re on your knees. Carefully, you try to push off your uninjured foot, though unfortunately have to apply a bit of pressure to the top of your injured one to try standing. The motion slightly causes the skin of your foot around the injury to scrunch up, leaving you to wince a bit and try to take things slower.

How entertained Lucius must be watching this, the asshole.

Leaning hard against a row planters , you expel and suck in a bit of breath in concentration. Carefully, you try to hop your way to the other room, keeping your cut foot elevated by lifting your leg just slightly. Yosuke could have been nice and given you a crutch or something to help, but you know well why he didn’t. Any chance he has to belittle you by making sure you can’t take care of yourself is one he’ll gladly take.

With your body so frail after all the confinement, it’s actually much harder to hop even just a few feet to the door, but you remain adamant on seeing if Cyrus is around. You have to pause now and then, but do manage to make it to the door and push onward.

After reaching that checkpoint, you stop a bit and take a breather, still leaning your shoulder on what wall you can manage to. Unfortunately, what plant life there is in the room is going to block your straight path forward, something made more apparent upon picking your head up and looking around. The trees might be strong enough to hold you should there be a need to grasp at them, but probably not for long or with too much pressure. Nonetheless, you keep going. If you can at least peek around the bushes and trees that are here just to know whether Cyrus is around, it’s worth it.

You press onward until the trunk of a tree impedes your straight path. Only then do you start to hop on while leaning solely on the tree. Moving around the thing is arduous, but not impossible. Each time you slightly hop forward, the branches above you shake, and the leaves rustle loudly. This noise apparently garners some attention.

“Is someone there?”

Your heart flutters a bit at the familiar voice, but while you stop and lean against the tree to catch your breath, you find it hard to give an immediate answer. You could really use some exercise, though you guess this counts to some degree.

“Just…me…” You pant a bit.

From around a bush emerges precisely who you’d been looking for. Maybe it was predictable that he’d be secluding himself here again, but that hardly matters. Seeing Cyrus again, you try to give a bit of a smile. Thankfully, other than looking a little tired, Cyrus seems perfectly fine. However, he gives you a rather confused look when he sees you.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You sigh.

“Long story, but my foot’s kind of cut right now.” This is probably the only bit of explanation you can give, but it’s not an explanation Cyrus questions. Instead, he seems intently focused on his concern over you.

“Here, let me help.” Cyrus steps closer, and you willfully wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean against him. Cyrus takes hold of your waist and helps guide you to the closest open patch of ground on the floor away from any of the trees, then helps you sit back down on the floor.

Truthfully, you’re a bit bothered by the fact that you just got done with this whole ordeal in getting off the floor to begin with, but suppose it’s better to be seated than standing in your state. In any case, you’re just glad to be with someone close to you after everything last night.

Still worried about his mood, you try to keep a smile for the young man, your eyes trailing him as he sits down beside you. “Thank you. Walking around like this isn’t as easy as I was hoping.”

“What happened?” Cyrus remains concerned. “To your cheek and your foot?

You bring a hand to your cheek, then. So focused on your doctor and on limping over here, you’d temporarily forgotten that you have a scar on your face. You’d forgotten that Cyrus didn’t get to know what happened because he hadn’t seen you.

“I had a visit with Micah recently,” is your answer. You won’t really say that the cut on your foot wasn’t Micah’s doing, knowing that you can’t much divulge a thing about Lucius to anyone. That’s probably one of the more taxing things. “It’s no big deal. It sucks, but I’ll live.”

“Sorry.” Cyrus remains sympathetic to you. “I didn’t think they’d rattle you up so soon.”

“Him, Sven, and Jude are the only ones I’ve seen so far. But it is what it is.” You scrunch up your eyebrows at the reminder. “Anyway, what about you? Have you been doing okay? You seem less sluggish than before.”

“I’m working on it,” is Cyrus’ reply which he follows with a half-smile. “I was trying to meditate again. It feels weird to do after so long avoiding it.”

“Have you been eating? And what about the dreams? Have you still been having those?”

Cyrus blushes. “I was sort of hoping you’d forgotten. Sorry if that was weird. But no…I haven’t had much of those since I saw you. I guess it really put me at ease to know you were safe. Or at least alive. But…yes, I’ve been eating.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re trying,” you respond honestly. “It really hurt to see you like you were.”

Cyrus looks away. “That’s why I try not to be that way around others. I don’t wanna burden or worry anyone. But I can’t help feeling horrible because of this place. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I’m so tired of it. But I don’t want to just give up, even when I sometimes slip up and start to think about it.”

The gruesome topic should leave you shivering as it had in the past. But now this feels like such a commonplace topic…is that normal?

You lean your head against the wall and sigh. “I guess I’m not one to talk since I haven’t been here as long as you, but I’m sick of it too. I’ve almost broken already. I wonder how long it’ll be before I actually do. I’m sure you ask yourself that a lot.”

“Sometimes.”

Cyrus then glances over at you and tries to smile. “I’m glad you’re still here, though.”

You laugh wearily. “You didn’t think I’d disappear again after one day, did you?”

“I never know.” Cyrus’ honest answer causes your smile to fade a bit. Your hand hovers over his before promptly and nestling atop it. Maybe you could take his words as offensive, as if he’s saying, “you’re always gone anyway”. But your concern lies more in the emotion behind these words. You mean a lot to him.

Now that you’re here, a part of you wants to rip the bandage off and tell Cyrus about your impregnable state, or talk more about Lav with him since he’s yet to talk to her himself. But now’s not at all the right time. Now, it’s important to keep him assured while he continues to pick himself up. You think he’s almost there. He’s at least acting a little more like himself than he did last time.

He picks up a lot quicker, you find. Probably because he has much more experience in doing so. It took you a while to get out of your own miserable state. For Cyrus, however, this is a cakewalk by comparison. Though, to say you’re experienced in misery is hardly brag-worthy.

“I promise, I won’t go anywhere,” you say, then bite your lip. “If I do what I’m told and expected to, I guess I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes shift down to your bandaged foot, and you wind up glowering a bit. “There’s things I can’t help, and admittedly some things I might willfully ignore. But I’ll keep trying.”

Yosuke’s words then ring in your mind.

“Don’t be selfish,” he’d said. You don’t want to die, nor leave anyone behind or hurt them in any way. You could care less if getting in trouble takes you away from the doctors, but maybe your own doctor was right that it’d be far too selfish to freely act out and try to understand what is still unknown or too jumbled to piece together. You know the consequences are so dire. But there’s just something wrong here that you can’t resist the desire to know.

You scorn yourself for being that way. There are definitely times you can get away with things, but it’s hard to know precisely when. The only places you can think are safe to be open are the bedrooms and exam rooms, and any hidden spaces around the recreational areas. The theater and the tables in the crafts room are still viable, but it’s the matter of hiding your intentions from The Overseer and his lackeys that makes it all difficult. There has to be some way you can communicate freely with your friends without repercussion.

As for the doctors, there’s so much more you’re allowed to talk about with them, and it’s certain by now that anything in the rooms is fair game. You just have to be careful just who you talk to about what, because it’s not exactly obvious who’s willing to rat you out for prying. While Yosuke and Gale might be people who would keep quiet for your sake, others might not.

Especially with Monica, you don’t know how much you can trust her to stay quiet if you were to start pecking about certain things surrounding her—About who she is, her place here, why everything seems so off with her…

You need to be more careful. But you also need to learn to be craftier. There must be a way to hide things. Other Numbers or prisoners in general must have had a way. Jay was able to stay subtle about peeking at her doctor’s passcode, and you don’t doubt that there have been others before her who attempted an escape and, at the very least, managed to get out of their sector like Jay.

Jay…how horrible to think she was so close to the exit and yet died because she stopped to talk to you. Had she kept going, maybe she’d have made it farther. You wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with The Overseer nearly as bad as you had, either. What happened wasn’t’ really your fault, though—Jay would have been killed regardless. Nobody has escaped this place. You’re sure of it. If ever anyone came close to freedom, it’s likely The Overseer became more rigid and relentless in his methods to prevent it from happening again.

Where would you even go if you could escape? What’s beyond that area to the basement? What’s upstairs? The question simply eats at you.

Your only solace from the restriction of this place is knowing that there are a few spots that aren’t surveilled. You have that advantage. And, of course, there’s the option of nonverbal communication, or at least the option of keeping your voice down. You can also probably pretend that you’re intending one thing while fully intending another. You know you can.

It’s just a matter of being quick and cluing in others on the practice to avoid an incident. But, of course, involving others would only endanger them. That’s probably the most selfish thing of all. If you were to try leaving and wound up failing, anyone else you’d have brought with you would face the same consequences.

Gale and Yosuke had once said to be careful while knowing they couldn’t stop you from blabbing about Jay back then. The doctors know what kind of person you are and don’t want to lose access to you for such a stupid reason. It’s clear to many that you won’t change your prying ways. You still believe you’ve a right to know things since you’re trapped here anyway. But there’s far too much that just doesn’t add up, doesn’t make sense, or is utterly confusing. You want to figure out why.

Why are you crossing your want to learn with this business of escape, anyway? Maybe it’s the dream you had that’s been burning the idea in your mind. But you can’t have both things. If you were to leave, you might never know more about this place because your focus would be on running and running and running away. But if you stay and fight to learn more about the people who confine you, why, and where you are, you might never be able to leave. In any case, you figure one is more of a desperate dream, while the other is a path you can walk, if only you accept the pain that path will bring.

“I always thought being docile was the best idea too,” Cyrus’ voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes snap back to him. “I still fear fighting back. It’s not like I don’t want to, I just know I can’t.”

“Nobody really can without risk,” You comment dryly. “But there must have been people who’ve tried. From the other group, there was someone wasn’t there? Eight, I think.”

“I don’t know if she ever tried it,” is the reply you’re given. “I can only assume she did since she stopped showing up. Or maybe she got close with an idea and the boss here didn’t like that. Maybe a doctor even caught wind of what she was doing and put a stop to it. But they were much harsher with us back then than they are now. Like I said, people used to die regularly. Nobody we know has lately. Not since—”

You notice a crestfallen look on his face. Cyrus doesn’t say Jade’s name, possibly because he still doesn’t want to believe, or at least verbally acknowledge, that she’s died. But he knows well that she’s gone. You know he does, even without you having to tell him what actually happened to her.

Your hand squeezes at the back of his, and the young man looks at you with his aqua eyes.

“I hope you aren’t trying anything,” he warns upon pondering your words a bit more to distract himself from the miserable thought. You pick up on this quite quickly and don’t linger on the subject either.

“You think I would after what I’ve been through?” Again, that desire for freedom is one that sits in the back of your mind and likely will while you still have the strength to wish for it. You vividly remember the strange dream you had fleeing from The Overseer, and the long maze of halls you ran through just the other night. But right now, you have no clue how to go about that. That’s why you supposed it was only a distant dream.

Freedom from all this…it’s worth fighting for. But it can’t just be you who chooses to fight for it. You certainly don’t want it to be just you. But right now, you can’t do a thing. Not alone. Not like in your dream.

Will you get in trouble for talking about this, though? The previous Eight died after trying to talk intricately about escape. There’s nothing wrong with saying “I wish”, you think. But there’s probably everything wrong with saying “I will”. This is mere speculation, so you don’t suppose The Overseer would find it offensive.

“I wouldn’t run,” you say. “Mom fakely gave me the opportunity when she left the gate open and invited me to try running once. I know It’s not practical. But if I could get out of here, I would.”

Saying this leaves you to remember Lav once saying something about knowing there was a curvature at the end of the hall with all the bedrooms. Unless she has impeccable vision, it wasn’t something she should have known if she was stuck here. You wonder why she does.

“Have you ever known anyone who tried?” You ask. It’s something you’d questioned of Lav back then, and now you can’t help but ask Cyrus too.

“To do what?”

“Escape.”

Cyrus looks down in thought, his brows lowering as he tries to concentrate. “No. I don’t think I ever did. But I’ve dreamt about running away and going home before. I just don’t know what home is.”

“You said you’ve experienced what I had when we were together in the theater,” you point out rather observantly. “When I remembered vows so suddenly. Why do you know that?”

“I’ve had images in my dreams pop up before,” is Cyrus’ simple reply. “Often a city. I can never clearly see faces even though I’ve sometimes seen people in my dreams. But everything’s always all so blurry and disorienting. I can never make much out.”

“Do you think the others have experienced the same? They never talk about it.”

Cyrus shrugs. “You can ask. I don’t know for sure, though. Whenever we’ve talked about our dreams, it’s always been weird stuff and places that probably don’t even exist. Dreams are really weird like that. But they tend to be based on what we know or experience.”

“I dream a lot about this place and the people in it,” you say sourly. “But sometimes my dreams are abstract and, I guess, ‘floaty’. I’ve also dreamt of a garden and some big house or something with a ballroom. I can’t fathom why. But I can’t access any memory I have attached to anything in my dreams. I don’t even really know if those actually are familiar things.”

“Do they feel familiar?”

You shut your eyes a moment as you think about it. “I can’t tell. Not right now. But it doesn’t hurt my head to think about those places. It only does when I try to attach a memory to it. Like when I thought of the vows and why I knew them.”

“Strange,” Cyrus mulls it over. “But we can’t much do anything about it. It’s best we just move forward.”

You frown. “That sounds like something I was told about the doctors once. They don’t look back on the old here, not without reason.”

“It’s not a concept that’s inapplicable to us,” Cyrus reminds you. “It’s just with them, they can choose to ignore what they don’t deem important. With us, we have no choice but to keep heading onward, both because staying in the past is dangerous, and because we can’t do anything about what happens to us anyway.”

Your eyes again open, and you pout a bit. “Well, it just bugs me how close I feel to knowing why I think of these things, when in the end I can’t get my answer. I keep being told to let go, and I can’t.”

The video feed of your interview, all your dreams, and all the things you’ve been told all cross your mind again. It’s too frustrating to have this sensation of having something on the tip of your tongue, with nothing being produced no matter what you try.

Cyrus sighs. “I know. But that’s how it is. There’s a lot I wish I could figure out. I’ve spent so long wondering ‘why’ this and ‘why’ that. But in the end, it’s pointless. I can only focus on maintaining myself and on being present for others.”

When you can’t much figure out how to respond, you both go quiet a moment. Soon, Cyrus turns his hand and cusps yours. You don’t think twice about letting your fingers curl around his palm, between his fingers.

“Thank you, by the way,” Cyrus says lowly. “For coming back to see me. I do want to try coming back to the group soon. Maybe tomorrow, if I’m lucky.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. “You still need time to recharge, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t just be alone,” is your companion’s response. “Besides, if you need help walking around, I’m going to wind up seeing others anyway. I might as well just jump in when I can. But today, I just wanted to keep meditating.”

This takes you aback. “You’d help me around?”

“I think you’d have a hard time trying to hop anywhere else on your own if just coming over here was so hard,” Cyrus can’t help but laugh. “Why were you here, anyway?”

“Yosuke brought me,” you tell him, frowning all the while. “He’s not exactly happy with how I’ve been treated lately, but he’s taking care of me when I need him to. It’s just really awkward being carried around by him. The other day, he embarrassed me in front of the other doctors.”

Cyrus raises a brow. “Other day? Was your foot injured then too?”

“No.” Going over it is rather unpleasant, but you don’t much want to hide it. “Yosuke’s making me follow rules now, mostly involving him taking care of everything for me. I can’t even brush my own teeth or bathe myself. He’s basically making me some useless doll because he likes it that way. And even thought I hate it, I have to put up with it.”

“I’m sorry,” you’re given sympathy. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to deal with that man.”

“It’s probably not unlike how Mom treats you, only she’s a little more enthusiastic and lively, I guess.”

You look over at Cyrus and frown. “How have things been with you two, anyway?”

“Same old shit,” Cyrus mumbles. “She was pecking a little more at Eight when you were gone, which is something I ended up having to hear about from him when I was still talking more to everyone. Neither of us like it, but it’s not hard to deal with. Just uncomfortable.”

“Has she ever set rules for you like my doctor did for me?”

“Only temporarily, and usually in the bedroom.” Cyrus rolls his eyes around uncomfortably. “She’s usually playful about it. But there have been ground rules she’s set while being completely serious. With her, there was a lot of trial and error. I can’t fight her too much or else she gets upset. You’ve seen her get mad when I speak up.”

You wince. “I don’t want to think about it again. She was like that with me too. That woman’s frightening when she’s mad. But so’s my doctor. He just doesn’t lash out as much as Mom does.”

“What has he done? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Mulling it over is no small task, nor a pleasant one. “I don’t think he’s wholly above violence since he’s slapped me before and has kicked Mom for being crazy with me, but he restrains himself compared to her. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to get in trouble, because he doesn’t want to hurt me that bad, or because he doesn’t want to be seen negatively. I think he’s capable of being crazy like Mom, it’s just that he refuses to let himself reach that point. He refuses to admit he’s a thing like her. Maybe even worse for another reason entirely.

“But I’m just afraid to think what he might be like when he’s genuinely so mad that he can’t control himself. Sometimes he apologizes for hurting me, or coddles me after. For the most part, he’s always been subtle in his anger when it’s not physical—usually just giving looks or raising his voice. But he has used me a bit more roughly, he’s hit me, he’s tossed me around on the bed. I don’t….”

You shake your head. “…I don’t like to think about it. But I’m afraid of him when he’s like that—when he’s forceful. And now that I’m still so weak from everything that happened when I was gone, it’s even easier for him to overpower me. If I make him mad, I’m scared of what will happen. But his obsession with me, his expectation for me to act the way he wants…it’s all gotten worse. I have to keep up with it or face the consequences of not doing so.”

Hearing this evidently wreaks Cyrus with worry. Not sure how to answer to your open words about how much Yosuke really abuses you, Cyrus squeezes your hand.

“I know it’s rough, but we’re here for you,” he murmurs. “We can’t stop anything from happening to you, but we’ll be here to help you get through it. Just like you’ve always been there to listen to us.”

“I know,” you say with a quiet smile. “Thank you. But I’ll push through. I’m always afraid of what will happen, and I will always shake and shiver when I’m faced with horrible people doing horrible things to me. But I’ve pushed through a lot already. A little more isn’t going to break me. Not after everything I’ve already overcome.”

You both sit quietly for a while after this, enjoying each other’s company. There’s more you could say, but the both of you unanimously and quietly decide it’s a better idea to take a step back from discussing the awful. At some point, the both of you even wind up leaning against one another, all while observing the trees branching above you, and the bushes nearby. The heat of Cyrus’ hand in yours Is one you’d let burn a hole in you, if you could. Staying like this wouldn’t give you a single thing to complain about.

If only the scenery in the room were more genuine. You want desperately to feel some kind of warm, pleasant breeze on your skin, or breathe in the crisp, fresh air of the outside. This isn’t any place to live.

After a while, the silence is gradually broken when you eventually start to speak up.

“Do you want me to stay? Or do you want to keep meditating?”

“I want to stay like this, but I should meditate,” is Cyrus’ disheartened answer. His hand again squeezes yours. “Discipline, and all. But thank you. You coming by means a lot to me. If I come tomorrow, I’ll try to join the others.”

You smile. “You should spend some time with Pickle when you come back.”

“Hm?” Cyrus hums. “I guess so. I feel bad I haven’t really gotten to know him well.”

“Have him trim your hair. He’ll open up plenty.” You muster a laugh. “But he’s not the only one you should talk to, you know.”

“I know.” Cyrus doesn’t have to question who you’re referring to. “I’ll talk with her when I can.”

“She’s just as worried about having hurt you as you are of having hurt her,” You try to assuage his worry. “You two are close. Talking won’t be hard.”

“I just hesitate a lot,” Cyrus huffs. “You know how I get.”

You smirk. “Unfortunately, I do.”

Cyrus blushes. “Speaking of which, if you wanna go hang out with Nine, she’s in the theater. I think I overheard the girls talking about hanging out there while I was getting food."

Your eyes widen “You saw the others and didn’t say anything to them?”

“No. They gave me space, and I took it.” Cyrus mumbles this as if in regret. “But I guess it gives them comfort to see more of me, since I wasn’t exactly trying to be seen before. If you need me to take you to the theater, they’ll probably see me again.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want you to strain yourself, Ten,” Cyrus warns. “It’s no trouble. I just have to make sure nobody’s in the hall when I help you over. That’s if you wanna go.”

You try to reassure him. “I do. I could do with some friendly faces right now.”

Cyrus laughs. “Mine not enough?”

“You know what I mean,” you nudge him.

With this, Cyrus lets go of your hand and pushes off the floor.

“You ready?”

With a nod, you take Cyrus’ hand and let him help you up. With your strong foot, you push off the ground and let Cyrus lift your body with his own strength. Again, you wrap your arm around his back and lean against your companion.

“Thanks,” you give a bit of gratitude. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

Cyrus tries to give you a smile. “Don’t be. I want to help. Besides, I’d feel bad knowing you were limping over there yourself. I don’t think I could send you off like that with a good conscience.”

You can’t much help but blush at the kind words, coupled with the sensation of his warmth pressing against your arm and shoulder, and the sensation of his arm dropping down around your waist to help steady you. Maybe you’re even a little flustered by the attention. It’s been some time since you’ve had it from someone you actually cared about. It’s the kind of thing you know Lav and Cyrus would give you without questions if you asked, but doing so feels a little greedy. You wonder if they feel the same way about being so upfront. Even the oh-so-mighty Lav tends to get a little sheepish with people she loves, it would seem.

Cyrus helps lead you toward the first garden room, then toward the exit. Before helping you hobble out, he peeks his head out of the open doors and makes absolutely sure that nobody’s around to see you two. However, you can’t help but feel a little self-aware of the cameras undoubtedly watching the both of you now.

That only leads you again to wonder whether your becoming closer with Lav and Cyrus was intended. What reaction should you even have if that’s the case? Would your reaction match those of the peachy girlfriends, who’s relationship you know is orchestrated? Gale was well-meaning with that. Were they for you?

Of course, you must be overthinking it. It’s not like Gale decides everything that happens here. Some things are incidental, you think. Whether this was or wasn’t shouldn’t matter, because how you feel is real. You’re sure Five and Six would ultimately say the same about each other.

Crossing the hall isn’t so arduous with no real interruption from a doctor. You don’t even hear any chatter from the office this time around, leading you to presume either the women are busy, or Mom is still out.

Cyrus doesn’t much struggle to help you to the theater doors, though he hesitates a bit when he reaches them.

“I’m gonna have to say something, aren’t I?” He supposes. You merely nod, then can’t help but smile.

“You spent so long avoiding a few women, now you have to face a bunch of them head on, all at once.”

“Very funny,” Your companion pouts. “I could drop you, you know.”

The cheeky little smile on your face remains. “You won’t.”

You’re hoping this banter will at least ease Cyrus into his presence in the theater. At the very least, he doesn’t much hesitate to walk in with you after your coy remark.

Upon entering, you’re greeted with the unusual sight of most all the girls gathered on the stage ahead, some dressed beyond their usual gowns. At first, you’re confused, until you recognize some of the outfits on their bodies as costumes you once shuffled through while perusing the theater’s stock on your own. Gaudy gowns, thin, breezy dresses, sleek suits, and fancy fake jewelry are primarily what’s being worn, from what you can gather. Everyone’s still too far to tell. And, despite the fact that you know certainly there were shoes in that cabinet, the girls have all opted to remain barefoot. It’d be difficult to say you’re not used to being barefoot yourself, so this isn’t much strange.

“What on earth is going on in here?” Cyrus mumbles in confusion at the sight of everyone, only loud enough for you to really hear.

“Beats me,” is your only, equally bewildered reply.

Most everyone on stage is paired off with someone, it seems. To the left stands Six, the least formally dressed of everyone with nothing more than a casual white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a pair of work jeans. She’s in-arms with her sweetheart, who’s completely opposite to her and has dressed herself in a gaudy pink ballgown that falls all the way to her feet.

Seeing them hand-in hand, dancing together while laughing like schoolgirls—or rather taking a few lively steps before stopping to laugh and make comments –makes you blush. It’s not that you’re taken by their endearment for one another, but it’s instead a little more embarrassing to speak of: You’ve never seen this much of Five’s body before, but so much of her hefty chest is exposed in such a beautiful, low-cut dress that you’re amazed her breasts haven’t popped out. You can’t help but squint and stare in awe.

What is she, magic? You wonder. Not like it matters when she’s pressed up against Six and looking like she’s having the time of her life with how big her smile is.

Three and Violet are opting for a more sedentary position, sitting on the edge of the stage, toward the middle, while chatting intimately about something you can’t quite hear. Three’s got this simple yellow sundress on, it looks like. You don’t suppose it’s ill-fitting for such a sweet girl. Violet is dressed almost as casually as Six, in some kind of sleeveless green shirt that tapers and cuts at the hip where it meets a pair of dark shorts. It’s not a look you’d ever expect her to don.

Though, come to think of it, you can’t really fathom what anyone would look like in normal clothes. Your only exposure to fashion in this place has been whatever the doctors wear, or what you’ve seen around the recreational areas. You’re not even sure just how you dressed before all this.

Cyrus leads you forward, concentrating on getting you where you need to go despite his own reservations at appearing so suddenly again. As you grow closer to the stage, you can more clearly see Blue and Lav holding up clothes they’re picking out from the cabinet to show one another, as if assessing each item. Blue’s in some kind of vivid, red, short-hemmed cocktail dress with nearly opaque black stockings. Somehow, it fits her. Lav beside her is, to your surprise, dressed not unlike some of the doctors—white shirt, nice deep blue coat and matching slacks that hug her legs and hips quite nicely. You suppose dresses aren’t much her thing, but you can’t help but be a bit flustered seeing her look so dapper. Maybe that outfit is more of a play costume than a regular outfit, but it doesn’t look at all unfitting. Coupled with her hair in a braid, she looks ready to take charge of something.

Since Violet and Three are both directly at the stage front, they see you and Cyrus approaching immediately. The others are rather distracted by their own conversations, but only once Three calls out to Cyrus in surprise with her brown eyes so wide do they all stop and look over.

“You came?” She questions with her jaw slightly dropped. Cyrus blushes a bit at the sudden attention from everyone, but nods.

“I’m not staying,” he remains firm on his want to be alone today. “I just came to help Ten over.”

“And you didn’t even think to give her a lift instead of dragging her here, limping?” Lav’s voice calls out. She steps away from Blue, a brown brow cocked. “Now that’s a bit inconsiderate for someone like you.”

She kneels down and drops from the stage, landing onto the floor. Once Lav’s steady, she stands up and puts her hands on either of her hips while walking over to Cyrus. He avoids looking her way at first, evidently still ashamed of what happened between them. However, he seems to think twice about the action, since he looks back at her after a moment of hesitation.

Lav’s brow remains cocked. “Cyrus.”

“…Hi.” Cyrus remains a bit sheepish. “You…um…”

Lav does not interrupt him, leaving the poor boy to fend for himself. Eventually, he is able to gather his wits and lets his tone gradually shift. “You look like you’re going to try selling me something.”

Lav can’t help but burst out laughing, losing her bold demeanor which you’re sure wasn’t something she was being serious about to begin with. “Fuck, maybe I will!”

Once she settles down, Lav gives Cyrus a kind smile. Even behind it, you can see a tinge of strain. She’s not quite as ease as she’s letting on, but you know she’s trying to hold herself together. “It’s good to see you, you know.”

The young man holding you can’t much avoid cracking a tiny smile in response to her jest. Perhaps the lightheartedness put him more at ease. “Yeah. You too.”

The moment between them is brief, though no doubt meaningful to each person. Lav moves things along quickly, sensing Cyrus’ slight discomfort. “Well, are you gonna give me custody of the kid or what?”

“Hey!” You call back, pouting. Lav laughs again.

“Do you wanna sit on the stage with us? If you do, I think it’d be easier if I carry you up rather than have you hop up the stairs.”

“I only avoided asking because I didn’t want to be weird,” Cyrus comments, partially addressing Lav’s earlier statement. “I don’t like imposing.”

You look between him and Lav both while pondering on this a moment. It’s not the idea of being carried that bugs you, really. It’s when your doctor gives you little choice in the matter and seeks to use it as a method of coddling you that it does.

“I guess I don’t mind it if it’s either of you,” you opt to say. Maybe this sounded more simple in your head, but both Numbers give you a bit of a surprised face that causes you to realize they might have taken it a little more than just casually. You can’t avoid blushing again. “Just don’t be weird about it.”

“You sure?” Lav seems adamant on clarification, and so you give a nod to make your decision absolute. With that, Lav trades places with Cyrus once he starts to let go of your waist. You head gets a little fuzzy at all the close proximity and light touching, but nonetheless allow Lav to take you up in her arms. For good measure, you wrap your arms around her neck to keep yourself steady. The fabric of her outfit is fairly sleek to the touch, and quite breezy despite how thick it looks. It’s actually quite comfortable against your body.

You eventually give a bit of a smile when you think of your doctor suddenly. “Yosuke would be mad as fuck if he saw me like this with you.”

You aren’t quite sure why that’s so enticing despite practically being afraid of his anger. You suppose the fantasy of sticking it to that asshole is alluring.

“Can’t be helped I guess,” Lav says with a shrug, understanding your approach. “He’ll just have to suck it up if he does.”

Her casual dissing of your doctor only leaves you smiling that much more. You wish you could be that forward too.

Once you’re secured, Cyrus decides to try taking off. Lav, however, calls out to him and frowns.

“We should talk sometime.”

Cyrus doesn’t at all refute this. He turns his head to her and nods before giving a brief “I know” in response. Before he can turn away again, it’s Violet’s voice that reaches out to him next. The other girls have been simply watching this exchange the entire time, probably not sure what to say to their friend since he still seems so out of it. But Violet does not hesitate now.

When you look over at the stage, you can see her standing now, hand to one side of her mouth to make her voice more audible to Cyrus.

“It’s good to see you again!”

Cyrus pauses, lips parted a moment as he takes in her words. After a brief moment, he smiles a little. Bringing his hand up to the side of his mouth like Violet, he calls back,

“Looking good, Vi!”

The sudden compliment makes Violet jump a bit. You aren’t quite close enough to see, but you’re sure by the way her eyes widen and her hand slowly drops that she’s blushing a bit at the compliment. Cyrus simply gives a laugh to himself and walks off, not letting anyone else stop him.

“He seems to be holding up a little better,” Lav remarks as her hazel eyes watch him leave the theater. “Is he okay?”

“He’s trying. That’s all I can really say,” you answer honestly. “I’m sure he’ll come through.”

Lav frowns as she moves to the side of the stage toward the staircase. “It always sucks to see anyone in the group get that low, or to be that person. But he’s the only one I know who’s constantly letting himself go like that, even if we don’t see it.”

“I’d place the blame on how this place is,” is your dry response. “At least he’s got a good enough head on his shoulders otherwise.”

Lav frowns. “I just wish he wouldn’t hide himself away.”

Lav seems not to fully grasp why people do this kind of thing since she’s always so forward. Hiding away isn’t something she does on purpose, she just doesn’t really open up a lot in general just because it never comes up. Maybe the contrast is one of the cruxes of dealing with her, but she at least tries to be understanding most times. But dealing with Cyrus is no easier either. When he gets really bad with his moods, he’s almost like Violet: hesitating to be present, and stubborn about his misery. Maybe that’s why Violet felt so connected to him once. He knew what it was like for her, even if her method of dealing with things has always been different.

Maybe you’re no easy to deal with than anyone else. You’re certain other people think you restrain yourself too much, or overthink what seems so simple. Even you think so.

Once you’re finally onstage, the girls all rush up to greet you, practically hovering in worry. You expect to be overcome with a wave of embarrassment at them all seeing you being lugged around like this, but strangely feel completely fine. Earlier, you’d dreaded being ferried in by your doctor and teased at in front of your friends by him. But now that you’re in the arms of someone else, someone who means a lot to you, you’re completely comfortable. And, luckily, nobody bats an eye at the gesture anyway.

“What happened?” Three asks worriedly, cusping her hands tightly together and holding them woefully before herself. “Are you alright?”

You suppose she’s referring to your bandaged foot. The hubbub from just a moment ago distracted you from the cut. “I’ll be alright, I just can’t be on my foot too much for a few days.”

Six folds her exposed arms and smiles assuredly. “Hey, we’re here to help if you need.”

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say. “Anyway, it’s not something I need to get off my chest or anything. It’s just more of the same. I’d rather not go over it again.”

“Rough visit?” Five supposes, leading you to nod. Even if attributing the cut to a visit is a lie, it’s not at all an unbelievable one. Once the others realize you don’t much want to linger on the ordeal, they don’t at all bring it up again. Instead, the girls move on without skipping a beat, something you thank them for quietly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t immediately ask why we were dressed like this,” Blue remarks curiously.

You raise a brow. “To be honest, it was my next question. I’m not used to seeing all of you in the theater, and especially not all dressed up.”

“We were just playing around,” Three chimes in chipperly. Gripping both sides of her skirt in each hand, she casually swishes the hem of her bright dress that’s cut just under her knees. “We were all watching a movie earlier and there was this really pretty lady who liked dressing up. We just sort of started talking and it turned into us wanting to try out something other than our gowns. The boys didn’t want to join, so we left them alone.”

“I didn’t really want to join either,” Violet adds from the back of the crowd, still looking a bit sheepish and red-faced from Cyrus’ comment. “I actually wanted to go swimming today, but they made me be social.”

“Hey, don’t act like you’re not enjoying being all comfy in those clothes,” Blue cheekily responds, pressing a hand to her hip. Lav looks up in thought meanwhile, pondering something.

“That was a while ago now that I think about it. I came pretty early today, and slowly the others started showing up.”

You look at her with a frown. “I slept in today, so I guess I missed a lot. But I really needed the rest, to be honest.”

“Hey, you wanna try something on?” Blue perks up, still holding onto a rather short brown dress that she’d been holding when you and Cyrus took her attention. She dangles it in front of you playfully, but you merely puff out a cheek.

“Not really,” you say. “Getting dressed with one foot would be kinda hard.”

You take a moment to look around at the stage in confusion. “Where were you even changing? There’s not a lot of privacy here.”

Five laughs. “We’re all girls, Ten. It’s no big deal. We just promised not to look while each of us hid behind a curtain.”

You blush. “Oh. Well, even if I can’t partake, I do think you guys do look really pretty.”

“Even me?” Six gives a breath of laughter. Five, still with her arms around her girlfriend, leans in and gives her sweetheart a smooch.

“Especially you.”

Six then beams at the compliment. “Hey, I just wanted to wear something comfy. I was surprised to find something so casual in the mix, actually. But me and Vi apparently had the same idea.”.

“I mean, I don’t know how I feel about dresses yet,” is the girl’s huffing response. “Shorts are comfortable.”

“I can relate,” Lav adds with a smile. “I admit, I like this thing. I feel pretty fancy.”

“These clothes feel fancy,” you add. “I’m surprised they even bother to care about the quality of costumes for a place they don’t even need to care about. I remember thumbing through all the stuff here and noticing how well made it all was.”

Five gives a light, airy sigh. “Makes me feel bad about getting it dirty, even if I know they could easily replace it. I guess I can’t help it.”

“Meanwhile, if any of this stuff was practical to exercise in, I would,” Lav laughs. “But I’m fine just doing it the way I always do.”

“Speaking of which, you sure took charge when Cyrus walked in,” Blue teases with a grin. “And you do look pretty good in that thing. You sure you weren’t secretly a CEO in your former life?”

“A what?” You remain confused. Blue shrugs.

“Nevermind. Anyway if you don’t’ wanna play around with us, then try this on at the very least!”

She tosses the brown dress over her shoulder and instead tugs off a gold bracelet that had been around her wrist. Blue moves toward you, motioning for you to extend a hand. When you do, she pushes the bracelet up onto your hand until it’s safely nestled atop your wrist. You eye the thing curiously while still keeping one arm around Lav.

“I wonder what real jewelry’s like,” you muse. Some of the girls, now that you’re close enough to notice, are wearing pieces of the fake jewelry you once saw in the cabinet. On Five’s neck is a thin, silver necklace, and on the ears of both Three and Blue are earrings that look more like gold and silver dots on their lobes. “I don’t even really know what it’s like to get all dressed up like this on my own.”

“People in the real world do this all the time. Sometimes just for fun,” Violet shrugs. “I don’t care for the super girly stuff myself, but I feel comfortable like this.”

“Anything’s better than those gowns, honestly,” Lav scoffs. “If we could dress up like this more often, I sure would.”

Finally, she kneels down and sets you down on the stage, helping you sit on its floor. Unanimously, the other girls join so as not to alienate you. Lav sits beside you, legs outstretched as yours are.

“Why don’t you dress up more if you want to?” You ask everyone. “If there’s clothes right here to do so?”

“It’s a hassle to get changed, for one,” Six answers with a frown. “And honestly, we never know when we’re gonna get called for visits. They get impatient with us sometimes if we take too long to get ready. It’s happened plenty enough when we’ve gone swimming.”

“And I’d rather not have certain doctors see me like this,” Three adds with a solemn look. “I don’t need to explain why.”

“I know what you mean,” you try to be sympathetic. “My doctor’s pretty bad with that. I don’t hate the idea of wearing nice stuff, I just…”

You end up trailing off when you think about all the times you wore different clothes and how embarrassing it was to be used in them. Nathaniel and Jonathan at least made it less horrible, but that isn’t saying much when they still played with you nonetheless.

“I guess recently, I also got my face made up a little,” you change your train of thought. “I know next to nothing about makeup.”

“Oh…” This doesn’t appear to help Three’s mood at all. You don’t understand why until you’re reminded that some of the girls here have had makeup put on them for the same kind of visit you recently endured.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize. “I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t have to baby me,” she refutes your apology. “I’m okay for now.”

She’s never snapped at you about that before…strange.

Hoping to break the tension, it’s Blue who speaks up next. She’s sitting on her side, using one arm to steady herself while the other rests comfortably in her lap.

“I’d honestly love to try that stuff a lot more,” she tells everyone. “I like the idea of dressing up and looking good. I’d probably be doing it if I wasn’t stuck here.”

“But what exactly would you wear?” Violet questions with a raise of her brow. “Like, you’re pretty comfortable in that dress. I feel like you’d wear that kind of thing often.”

Blue shrugs a shoulder. “Hey, it’s a hot dress. What do you want from me?”

Six chuckles. “I don’t dislike the idea of dressing in girly clothing, but I don’t mind this either. Comfy clothes are good clothes.”

“I think I like dresses,” Five chimes in, mulling it over while she looks up and leans against her sweetheart. “The ones here are really cute, but I don’t fit in some of them. I’m just glad there was at least something.”

Six smirks and leans down to whispers something in Five’s ear. Whatever it is she says makes the curly-haired girl blush and bring a hand to her cheek, flustered.

“Pink’s a nice color on you,” you compliment her, laughing a bit at the display. You’re fairly certain you know what Six was getting at, but don’t draw attention to it. “But don’t just take it from the one who wears it.”

“I think pink suits you fine too,” Violet shrugs. “I’m pretty attached to my color, truth be told. Is that weird? I feel like it is.”

Three shakes her head. “Actually, no. I feel kind of the same. I like red a lot.”

“I like to expand my horizons,” Blue turns up her nose playfully. “I think blue’s a fine color, but I could do so much more if I just had the opportunity. And yes, red is a good color.”

“Sure looks alright on you,” Lav laughs. She then looks over at Violet, who’s folded her arms and started to lean on her now-crossed legs. “What about you, Vi? Any idea what you like?”

“I dunno,” is Violet’s casual response. “Never really thought much about it. I guess I’m more into comfy clothes like Six. Though…I kind of feel weird that Cyrus said anything to me about it.”

“She’s blushing again!” Blue teases her friend, making Violet look away in embarrassment. “Hey, wear whatever you like, honestly. You do look like you’re ready for hot day or something.”

“Like for summer?” You ask. Blue nods.

“God, I don’t even remember what seasons are like,” Lav sighs, leaning back and steading her angled torso with her palms to the floor. “I don’t even know if I remember what the sun feels like on my skin.”

“I’d kill for that feeling again,” Violet says longingly, prompting a nod of agreement from the other girls. “But I think I’d be pretty cozy in the winter instead. Getting bundled up in a bunch of blankets sounds really nice.”

Five giggles and leans against Six with a happy smile on her face. “And you can cozy up with other people.”

Blue winds up raising her free hand and shaking it as if to disagree. “I’d like fall better. Not too hot, not too cold.”

“But people get to go out in the summer and go swimming and stuff!” Three challenges the idea without a moment’s hesitation. “I figured you’d like the summer too, Violet. You like to swim.”

“I do, but I like being under a pile of blankets too,” is the wavy-haired girl’s response. “My doctor sometimes has to yank me out of bed if I’m cozy enough.”

“I know what you mean.” you give a laugh “I like sleep too.”

Violet gives you a knowing nod, acknowledging you for the opinion she holds superior. You then look over at Three when she continues to talk.

“Do you like summer or winter more, Ten?”

“Me?” The question takes you aback. You don’t really remember much about the outside. Rather, you know what seasons are, but you don’t really remember how they feel. The only thing you really can recall is the feeling of warmth.

Unsure how to answer, you wind up trailing your eyes to the floor and frowning. The fingers of one hand wind up plucking at the bracelet on your wrist. “I don’t know. I don’t have enough of a good picture of all seasons to tell you.”

“You don’t remember how they feel?” Six almost looks shocked at the idea, until she mulls it over a bit. “I guess I don’t much know anymore either. I’ve been here so long I think I’ve forgotten what little of the outside I once might have known.”

“It’s not like I don’t totally remember,” you mumble, thinking more on it. “I just…don’t know. All I can recall is warmth. I like the feeling of that.”

Blue raises a brow. “Warmth from a season? Or something else?”

“Well, I don’t know what season it was,” you begin, “but I can remember the feeling of being outside. There’s this place I’ve dreamt of so vividly before, some garden at sunset. I could feel the prickly grass in that place on my skin, even feel the warmth of the air and see so vividly all the orange in the sky. But I don’t know much about that area at all.”

“It sounds like a pretty place,” Three hums considerately. “I wish I could go somewhere with a nice landscape like that.”

“Was that garden some kind of escape for you the times you dreamt of it?” Five questions curiously. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned that before. Unless I just don’t remember.”

You shake your head a bit. “It’s not really what I’d call an escape. It’s more like a place that just shows up sometimes. So far only twice, but I did recently dream about a maze that was inside, and made of nothing but walls.”

Your fingers continue to prod and pull at the bracelet while you stare mindlessly at it. “I’ve had all kinds of awful dreams in this facility. The garden itself is fine, it’s the stuff that’s happened in or near it that I don’t really like. Stuff with my doctor, mostly. And more than anything, I keep dreaming that I’m trapped in this place. If I don’t have weird abstract dreams, it’s always just tied to this facility. It’s frustrating.”

Lav gives you a rather sympathetic look, but says nothing of your dream. None of the girls even seem sure of how to respond to the mention of it. Their faces, once you scan the stage and the crowd around you, are all a bit hesitant. You, however, take the opportunity to ask,

“Have you guys had weird dreams before?”

“I used to have a lot of nightmares,” Violet answers first, though her dark eyes evade yours. “I don’t as much, but with how often they drug us up, sometimes I don’t even dream. I used to like it when I didn’t. But now I look forward to getting away for a bit in my dreams. I can’t always control what happens in them, but sometimes I find myself able to.”

Blue pouts. “I’m sure everyone’s had nightmares here, but it’s not fun to think about it.”

“And what exactly do you dream about on your own?” Six asks with a raise of her brow. Blue merely shrugs.

“I dunno, movie stuff. I’ve been in warzones and hotels from some of the movies we’ve seen. It’s always super trippy. Other times, I’ve been the protagonist of a romance movie. I really like those dreams.”

“I wish I had those too,” Five chuckles. “Mine are all pretty boring. I don’t sleep well or see anything at night when my doctor drugs me, though.”

“The blackouts are the worst,” Lav chimes in, pushing off the floor and leaning herself forward again. “But I’ll take ‘boring’ over nightmares. I used to get those a lot too. But after a while, I started dreaming about myself. You know, about being me, doing what I want when I want. I used to spend so much time alone that I’d just dream I was doing stuff on my own. Walking around in empty places, usually.”

“And you never get lonely?!” Blue cries. “That sounds so sad!”

Lav shrugs. “Hey, I can handle being on my own just fine.”

She glances your way a moment. “If I have to be. But I’ve come to like being around other people too.”

She flashes a light smile as she says this, leaving you to blush a little.

“Maybe it’s silly, but I have a lot of dreams with my brother in them,” Three almost giggles at the thought. “I guess I always worry about how he’s doing. And if it’s not him, I usually have a lot of weird open places in my dreams that I never get to fully explore. Not anywhere nice, though.”

Six shakes her head. “It’s not silly at all. I dream about Peaches all the time, you know.”

Five hugs her sweetheart tight and giggles girlishly. “I knew you were gonna say that!”

You scan the stage a bit and watch everyone as they laugh at the silly display. You don’t much think anyone else is going to divulge more about their dreams. Maybe you should have been a little more forward about what you really wanted to know.

“You guys have never dreamed of specific places or anything before? Anything repetitive or familiar?”

The girls all look at you and murmur between one another thoughtfully. The consensus seems to be “no”.

“Not really, anyway.” Violet shrugs a shoulder. “I sometimes dream about swimming, if anything. I feel most like myself when I’m in a pool. Free, I guess.”

“Well that makes sense since you like to swim, but I’m not over here dreaming about art.” Blue responds with a casual tone. “I mean unless you count movies as art.”

Six, despite having been all giggles before, suddenly becomes more focused. “I’ve come close to feeling something familiar before, but nothing I can really say is familiar.”

You look over at Six with curiosity in your eyes. “What’s that?”

“A weird room and a person,” she says. “I had a dream about that once. I couldn’t really tell what anything was because everything was so hazy and blurred. I felt like I was behind a glass wall or something. But I was sitting there in front of this person. I couldn’t bring myself to speak out to them even when I wanted to, because my throat closed up every time I tried. It was surreal.”

“Not scary?” Three questions. Six merely shakes her head.

“No. I knew it wasn’t real because it was so strange. I just remember waking up and not knowing how to feel about it.”

“Well, no sense thinking hard about it now, I guess,” Violet sighs. “We’re all just here, and that’s that. Dreams aren’t real, even if they do come from reality.”

Three pouts. “I wish some of them were real. I’d be a lot happier.”

The room seems to grow solemn now, budging from its earlier cheery atmosphere. You can’t help but feel guilty for starting this. Not like anyone’s answers really gave you anything of worth other than Six’s, so maybe it wasn’t really worth it in the end.

You wonder if your peachy friend’s dream has something to do with Gale, since the moment she described the dream, you could only think of how she acted in her video feed. She knows Gale, she just doesn’t know that she does. Maybe that dream was a mere memory, blocked off or completely damaged by Mnemosyne.

Looking up, you figure Gale must be writing all the girls’ divulgences down somewhere. If it’s not something they already knew about, with how much they love to pry, this is definitely candy for them. You feel a little dirty that your curiosity is only a mode for their own prying. You can get all kinds of information from anyone that Gale can’t—not so forwardly, anyway. Even if they’re easy to talk to and can get people to open up around them, that doesn’t mean prisoners will tell them everything, and certainly not right away.

Despite the solemn nature of the conversation, things eventually do pick up again. Topics switch, and the girls all start to talk more about many other things—what they did the other day, gossip about the boys, laughing over dumb jokes. It’s relaxing. After the rough day you had yesterday, you’re more than happy to participate and laugh with everyone.

Every so often, you catch yourself glancing at the cabinet with all the clothes. Maybe you would have liked to dress up with the others, to be honest. It’s not even because of your foot that you hesitated, rather it’s the continued discomfort at the memory of what happened here. You’ve every right to be bitter. Still, getting dressed on your own…it’s something you want to try someday. For now, it’s a bit late to indulge. Plus, you’re quite comfortable outstretched on the floor. After some time, you even roll over on your stomach and lay happily on the cool hard surface. It’s fairly soothing, you find.

After a while that hardly even feels like as much time as it’s actually been, everyone opts to change back into their gowns so that they can move on to the cafeteria. Three is the first to whine about having to get out of the sundress she’s come to enjoy wearing, but doesn’t disagree that it’s best to be ready in case the doctors call for them.

Lav has to help you over, letting the other girls go one by one first before carrying you into the hall. Having her hold you close like that is admittedly flustering—her chest presses against the side of your upper body while you lean on her, and every bit of her warmth envelops you. Your doctor carrying you this way is hardly pleasing, but you think you could get used to it from someone like her, like the way you felt good leaning against Cyrus earlier. You never much get to enjoy these sorts of things because of your doctor. Hell, you never thought you’d be enjoying this with anyone else, but you’re quite taken by the fact that Lav’s strong enough to hold you without issue. You’re practically a paperweight in her arms, but like you, she’s not complaining.

Lav’s just as careful to make sure nobody’s watching in the hall before actually crossing it with you. The group conversation then continues while everyone has their dinner, though you’re hardly hungry yourself and settle with a bit of banana that you peck at only now and then.

You can’t help but keep looking over at the counter in the cafeteria while the girls idly chatter, your mind fixated on your brush with Lucius yesterday. To think he might be watching you from such a close distance is uncomfortable to say the least. Sure, it’s far-fetched to say he’d willingly stick around to watch people, but you simply can’t help the paranoia. Especially now that you know he’s watching you in general.

“Ten?” A voice calls suddenly, shaking you from the grueling memory. You blink a few times and look to your left at Lav, who’s glaring at you with a concerned eye. “You’re spacing out.”

“Sorry,” you sheepishly laugh, trying to gather yourself again. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“We’d all like not to think so hard,” Blue sighs, having overheard your comment. “Thinking sucks.”

Between hulking bites of what you think is a hearty beef dish, Violet challenges this idea. “Thinking isn’t bad, you know. It’s just when you let your mind wander too much that it can be dangerous. Take it from me. It’s hard not to let your mind wander like that in a place like this.”

You frown and look down. “it always bugs me that I overthink things myself. I get so tired of it. But I worry easily. I don’t know…I really want more out of my life than this place. I’d be much happier outside.”

The girls all murmur in crestfallen agreement. Three especially prods quietly at her food while listening in to the conversation. You glance at her now and then, uncertain whether you should keep talking like this around her. Everyone has to walk on eggshells around the girl until she says she’s willing to listen to something she doesn’t usually want to hear. Even with how she spoke up against the coddling earlier, it’s still something everyone ends up doing anyway.

It’s admittedly quite exhausting—the same kind of exhausting it was to walk around Violet when she was struggling even though you knew it was the best thing you could do in that situation. So you won’t be cruel to Three knowing how much she’s suffered, and for how long. The twins are no different than Cyrus at times in that regard, from what you’ve come to learn.

“Like we’d even know what the hell to do out there anyway,” Lav speaks bitterly in response to your statement. “I know some things, but there’s still a lot I don’t. I’m not ready for a real life now that I can’t remember shit. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Not like I wouldn’t even try, I just don’t know what I’d expect.”

“Again, thinking sucks,” Blue repeats her earlier statement while waving her fork around. “You just gotta not care too much about it.”

“Why don’t you?” Six questions with a lowered brow. Blue shrugs.

“I dunno. I learned to say no to being sad and that’s that. You’ve heard me say this a lot. You guys saw how I was before and how I forced myself to be this way until I was comfortable with it. Duh!”

“Lucky you,” Violet grumbles before taking another generous bite of her food. Blue slaps her hand on the table and leans over to look at Violet to her left, past Three.

“Hey! I never said I don’t feel bad for you for feeling the way you do! I’m not trying to brag about how great my life is going, you know. I’m just trying to stay positive because I don’t like it when you guys get all sad about stuff! It’s just the way I do things. It’s how I try to work with people, that’s all!”

Six raises a hand and speaks up upon seeing the two girls glaring at each other. “Okay, okay, let’s not get all worked up.”

Both Violet and Blue lean forward and turn their heads toward Six at the table corner across and to the right of them. Practically in unison, they both cry out, “tell that to her!”

The sight is admittedly entertaining despite the initial rising tenseness of the conversation, and you can’t help but let out a rolling laugh. Immediately, all the girls look over at you with faces of confusion that soon gradually shift into smiles of their own. Maybe none of this is inherently funny, but everyone can’t help but start to laugh themselves.

Five, recovering from her giggling first, is the first one to finally speak up again. She leans against her sweetheart who has by now finished with her food. “Hey, we’re glad you’re able to hold up so well. But you gotta be a little more considerate to those of us who are still trying. I’d probably be in the same boat if I didn’t have Peaches. I can’t really imagine what I’d be like without her anymore.”

Having passed through the chipper moment, the conversation slowly returns to its original state.

“It’s not like I’m not happy for you guys,” Violet admits, blushing while prodding at her food. “I dunno, maybe I’m a little too self-centered sometimes.”

A sheepish Three sitting between Violet and blue chimes in with a small voice. “You and Blue both, actually.”

“Take it from me, there’s nothing wrong with self-centering,” Lav remarks without skipping a beat, her head slightly shaking back and forth. “It’s just one of those things you have to balance to avoid being too selfish or too giving to a point where it’s a hindrance. It’s not easy. But I am proud of you, Violet. You and everyone else who have struggled with their fears and their moods. This place doesn’t make it easy to deal with. But you’ve stuck it out this long, you know?”

Violet blushes even more, her dark eyes fixated on her plate while the other girls give encouraging “yeah’s” and murmurs of agreement. When Lav turns her head to you and smiles, you know she’s referring to you too, and this only makes your own face grow a bit red.

“What would you guys even do if you were out of this place?” Blue finally decides to redirect the conversation after the brief argumentative fiasco. “Like, I know we don’t remember a lot about the outside and how society works, but I’m sure we could still figure stuff out to some degree. We read books and watch movies—we can’t be that absolutely alienated.”

Six shrugs. “I guess that’s true, but It’s not exactly the same thing. I’m pretty sure people don’t get married after one or two dates like they do in movies.”

“And happy little coincidences don’t always happen,” chimes in a nodding Violet. “But I guess it’s cool to think about that being real even if it is fairly unrealistic.”

“Is that why you like movies?” You ask Blue who, by now, is done pecking at her plate. There’s still quite a bit of food on it, but she’s hardly the kind to eat a lot. Blue’s face lights up a bit, and she nods.

“Yup! Movies are great. But it’s not just the whole sugary, feel-good aspect of some of them. I sometimes just like seeing how things play out and how many kinds of stories there are even if it’s a weird or actiony movie. I dunno.”

“Maybe you liked movies back then too,” Three giggles. “Anyway, If I wasn’t in this facility, I’d like to have a big house! I’d invite all of you over and we could hang around.”

Violet raises an intrigued dark brow. “Would it have a swimming pool?”

This makes Three go “mm-hm!” with utter enthusiasm. “A swimming pool, a fancy theater, a big yard, and a big kitchen!”

You laugh. “I’m sure Charlie would love that.”

“I’m sure he’d have a ball cooking for the fun of it rather than because he has to,” Lav agrees. “He’s not bad at it, that’s for sure.”

Practically in unison, the girls all turn toward the window and call out words of thanks to their chef. Even if they’re not at all certain he’s actually right there, you smile knowing that they’re willing to include him.

“Is this house a place we’d live together?” Six asks once the conversation turns back to the table. “It is a big house, after all.”

“We could if we wanted!” Three remains chipper at the fantastical idea.

Five grins. “You should leave the decoration to us. We’d fill that place with fancy furniture and beautiful colors.”

Blue hits her fist against the table lightly. “I demand an art studio. Like, a big one.”

The other girls pop off one by one about the kinds of things they’d want, mulling over this fictional house as if it were even a possibility. Still, it’s exciting. Even you can’t help but chime in.

“We could have a nice library and a gym too,” you say. “I think it’d be a lot more fun to have a house with all the kinds of rooms we have here without all the shitty parts associated with it.”

“And with more selection,” yearns Five. Lav nods and points her fork forward, not at anyone in particular.

“If we could get actual workout equipment in the gym, I’d be in heaven,” she says. “And you bet your sweet ass I’d be dragging you guys in for sessions.”

“Dude, I could get so ripped!” Six cackles. “You and I would demolish everyone!”

Five, blushing, leans into Six’s ear this time and whispers something on her own. Whatever it is that she says makes her sweetheart give a bellowing laugh, though she doesn’t at all divulge when the others look at her curiously in expectation of an explanation. Only you and Lav really are able to look at one another and laugh over what you both know the two girlfriends are giddy about.

“Okay, so the house is cool and all, but I wasn’t kidding about the art studio thing,” Blue moves the conversation along. “If I was actually on my own, I’d really like to become a professional artist or something and have a studio. That or just sell my art in general. I’d love my own place to chill out and bring people to.”

“Bring people?” Violet pouts. Blue shrugs.

“I wanna go on dates, okay? Don’t make fun of me.”

Three brings a hand to her mouth and gives a girlish giggle. “I didn’t know you were a romantic.”

“Romance?” Blue blinks.

“What about the rest of you,” You ask. “Where’d you like to be?”

“I don’t really care where me and Peaches end up as long as we’re together,” Five answers first, smiling. “Maybe a nice little house outside a city where we’d live more quietly.”

Violet, after having at the last bits of her food, puts her fork down and ponders on this a bit. “I’m not sure where I’d want to live or what I’d want to do to sustain myself, really. I guess I would like to keep swimming as a hobby, but I’d really like to go around and try different restaurants and taste all the kinds of cuisines there are.”

“You and your food, honestly!” Blue tuts. “But you know, traveling around does sound super fun.”

Violet turns up her nose a bit. “You could always come with me if you promise not to try picking up guys.”

Blue shakes her head at the idea. “No promises.”

“I’d be down for travelling too,” Lav adds to the conversation while giving a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I dunno, it’d be nice to see something other than white walls. Maybe I’ll climb a mountain for the hell of it.”

“I’m sure you could,” you encourage her happily. “As for me, I’m not really sure. Everyone else seems to have based their theoretical lives around something they’re passionate about.”

“I’m sure you have passions too, you just haven’t unlocked them yet!” Three tries to be upbeat for you. “Maybe you used to play an instrument or write a lot or something!”

“Who knows,” you shrug. “But if we really did have a shot at living our own lives, I’d be happy to visit all of you. Being able to do our own things while still keeping in touch…I’d like that.”

The banana in your hand has long since been devoured, so you slowly put the peel down and stop fiddling with it. “What do you think the boys would do?”

“Pssh, that’s easy.” Blue seems rather positive about this. “Cyrus would probably teach yoga or something, Two would live in a dingy little apartment and go do nerd stuff with friends, Eight would be a librarian or something, and Pickle would cut hair for a living. Easy!”

“Hey! My brother’s not a nerd!” Three protests with a childish pout. Blue shakes her head and counts off on each finger.

“He likes video games, he likes board games, and he likes to pretend to be different characters on a stage,” she lists off. “He’s a geek.”

“No!” Three insists, her face a bit red as she remains adamant on refuting Blue’s claim. However, she doesn’t really give any reasons why her opinion of her brother is right.

“I don’t think you really have Eight pinned down myself,” Violet disagrees with Blue’s statement as well. “Eight likes a lot of things, but he’s super passionate about music. I’d say he’d play professionally.”

“He could teach music like he does with us,” Five giggles. “He’s not bad at it.”

While the girls keep debating over this, you remain unsure how to feel about Blue’s assessment of Cyrus. Though, even you’re not able to pinpoint something for him beyond meditation. Maybe it’s not unfitting to think he’d pursue the lifestyle outside of the facility if he could. He’s always been a gentler soul who seeks to guide others. Maybe if he weren’t “obligated” to, it’s something he’d enjoy doing in general. As it is, he’s much more attuned to it.

The conversation seems so lively, but even now you can’t help but feel a little downtrodden that you don’t have something to stick with yourself. If you had freedom, what would you do with it? Your answer ended up revolving around everyone else. It’s absolutely frustrating. You’re bad at everything in this facility. What the hell were you actually good at before?

Despite the fun you were having with the girls, it apparently comes to an end when Mom’s voice chimes from the intercom, calling again for you. Hearing her speak, you look up at the ceiling with a glower, but say and do nothing immediately after you’re called. You don’t want to go.

Three freezes up a bit upon hearing Mom’s voice, but Violet tries to hold her hand to comfort her. It’s not something you’ve ever seen her do, but without Two around, Three has to rely on others for comfort. You’re glad she’s got so many friends, at least.

“Gee, you’re popular, huh?” Blue sighs while leaning her elbows on the table and placing her head atop her palms. You look away.

“I really need a break, but ever since I came back, it’s just been one visit after another.”

“I guess that’s a normal pattern, but they really should take it easy on you with how much you’ve been through already,” Lav scowls. “I don’t like coming back and seeing you with a new injury each day.”

“I was told it won’t be anyone super rough tonight, so maybe I have that to look forward to,” you respond. This is true, but you’re still bitter about the regular visits anyway, as is your right. “Anyway, I think I’m going to need help getting to the hall again.”

“I’ll do it,” Lav offers. “If they aren’t sending anyone to get you, then I’ll go. If they get weird about it, so be it.”

“I guess that can’t be avoided this time,” you don’t disagree. “Thank you. But you guys really don’t have to do so much for me.”

Lav shakes her head. “You have an injury. It’d be shitty to make you walk on your own.”

The girls all sadly say their goodbyes as Lav stands from the table and maneuvers your legs so that she can cup them and your back both at once. Once she has you, your companion scoops you up effortlessly.

You’re glad nobody’s really teasing you about being hauled around like this. They understand your position and don’t see it an issue. Even though the peachy girlfriends to seem to understand that you’re close with Lav by the way they occasionally look at the two of you with smiles, they’re never ones to make jokes about it at inappropriate times.

“I’m still sore from yesterday,” you quietly tell Lav as she heads toward the cafeteria doors. “I just want to rest up a little. This sucks.”

“I know,” she says rather disheartedly. “You’ll just have to deal. I’ve dealt with that myself and it always sucks, but I’m sure they won’t hurt you too much without reason. Not everyone, anyway.”

“Thanks, by the way,” you tell her quietly. Lav pauses at the doors and looks down. You return her glance with a smile. “I appreciate all the stuff you do for me.”

“You’re not embarrassed by this or anything?”

“No.” You can’t help but nuzzle against her chest. “I think I kind of like it.”

Lav blushes, but returns your smile with a warm one of her own.

“Happy to be of service,” she jokes, her voice a bit softer that she’s focused on you. “But don’t smile at me like that. We’ve got doctors to deal with.”

Despite being comfortable, you frown and pick your head up at the reminder. “Right.”

The pleasantries end as you’re taken to the hall, and unfortunately meet with the two women often at the office, who are both now standing behind the open gate. When your eyes shift over to focus behind Monica, you’re left frozen at the sight of a worker standing idly by. You hadn’t at all expected it, nor do you have any idea why they’re there.

“Oh my, I was hoping one of the cutie boys would bring you,” Mom sighs, bringing a hand to her cheek. “But thank you for bringing her over, Nine. Mommy’s glad Ten has someone to rely on.”

Lav, utterly distracted by the worker herself, keeps her amber eyes fixated widely on them. You realize she’s likely never gotten intimately familiar with the workers before. Has she never seen them this up close? Not even once?

“The worker’s just here to assist,” Mom explains when she sees you both eyeing them. “I was going to have him come get you if you didn’t show up soon. I’m actually quite surprised that Yosuke didn’t give you anything to help you walk! But I guess he has his little reasons.”

Perhaps hearing why the worker’s here should give you some relief. Maybe in the back of your mind, you expected a visit with him even knowing how preposterous that is. You can’t help but keep reeling over what happened with C1. It’s hardly any fault of the workers themselves, though.

Despite Lav not having much to say, she remembers her “manners” and tries to address Mom. She, however, looks at the woman with a frown despite her obedient words.

“You’re welcome, Ma.”

Your eyes shift between Monica and Mom, uncertain of who it is you’re dealing with tonight. Neither are particularly favorable. You’d say that Monica might be less crazy, but you have no clue if that’s true. If she’s a friend of Mom’s, how couldn’t she be? She even seemed to warm you ahead of time she wouldn’t be precisely like she was when you interacted before. You don’t think the woman’s interests are going to be rough, but she certainly will take advantage of her place above you and derive sick pleasure from you, as all doctors have.

“Poor dear got her foot all cut up,” Mom sighs. “Ten, you are so careless. Though I’m surprised those naughty boys would stoop to that. It’s not really their style.”

You look at her with a focused eye. She couldn’t possibly know who did this. She didn’t even know that you were confined, and she certainly doesn’t know about any deals you made with The Overseer. He’s not the kind of person to tell her openly when you’ve heard how little he thinks of her now.

It’s not something you’ll be able to know without digging, but that’s not doable now. It’s better you just keep going along like normal.

There is still the question of your visit, however. Not wanting to be kept in the dark, you ask up front,

“Who am I going with?”

“Oh?” Mom smirks. “Is my little princess so impatient?”

Monica looks over at Mom with a smile. “Mamita, you’re teasing her too much.”

“I suppose,” is Mom’s only response as she gives another sigh. “Ten, it seems Monica beat me to the punch this time. But I suppose I’ll consider it fair, since she still has yet to give you a try. And you are quite fun. In any case, you’ll be going with her.”

You glance over at Monica, who meets your gaze and gives a cheery little wave.

“The men were so eager to see you that I didn’t even get a chance,” she says. “I promise it won’t be too bad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I can’t know that for sure,” you say, shifting your eyes uncomfortably away as she continues to look at you. Lav’s grip on you tightens, but she stays silent and lets the women continue with their spiel. She’s no more eager to be here like this than you are.

Without being told, the worker behind Monica steps past her and toward you and Lav. The sudden movement makes your friend step back a bit in unease, but she doesn’t flinch otherwise. Without a choice, she lets the worker take you in his arms, the calming warmth of her body now replaced wholly by the inhuman thickness of fabric and rubber.

The worker holding you stands motionless without a further prompt, and Lav merely eyes him with disdain. You don’t wager that she’s angry at him necessarily, but rather just unnerved in general at all this.

Her amber eyes soon briefly flicker toward you, and only then does her expression soften and morph into one of worry, with her brown brows slightly upturned. Still, she keeps quiet. All her words of comfort and sympathy are said merely through her glance.

Your only solace now is that it’s not a man who’s visiting you. The visit will be nonetheless uncomfortable and odd, you think. Plus, the soreness in your vulva is something you can’t help. You’re certain that your lower body is still going to get attention no matter what. But not having your body pumped with cum for once after so long of regular abuse from men is a little bit refreshing with how frightened of pregnancy and its consequences you still are. You can breathe just a little bit easier for this visit. Hopefully Monica’s treatment of you won’t be horrible either, so that you can breathe even more.

Either way, it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a female doctor. Now that Mom can’t be restricted, you don’t doubt you’ll be seeing more of her too.

As for Lilah….god you hope not. But in the end, pain is temporary. You’ll definitely suffer if she sees you, but you’ll heal. That’s practically a mantra at this point. It’s one of your only comforts in such frightening situations.

Mom’s lively giggling takes your attention. “My, look at her. She’s not sure what to think! She hasn’t been this confused in quite a while. Not since she was so new.”

She relishes in the memory. “Oh, she was just so precious back then. Like a little baby. But you’re still my pretty little girl even now, aren’t you, Ten?”

Her green eyes focus on you, and Mom gives a sweet pink smile as you return her pecking words with a brief, “of course, Mom.”

Mom eventually waves Lav away, who walks off and leaves you alone with the women despite the continued worried look in her eye. You’re glad she cares, but this visit might be a lot less physically arduous than previous ones since your return, so you think you can handle it.

Once alone with both doctors, you watch Mom approach you and tap your nose playfully.

“Now have a good time, my pretty girl,” she chirps. “Be good for Monica. And don’t be so nervous! She’s no more strange than any of us.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter. Mom merely laughs, but says nothing as she heads back to the office. She passes Monica a brief goodbye before departing and shutting the gate.

Once alone, the worker turns toward the hall with all the rooms, leaving you to face Monica yourself. You briefly glance at the worker’s gas mask, unnerved by the inhuman look it has.

Monica, still calm and pleasant, gives you a warm, gentle smile. “Are you worried?”

“I’m always worried,” you grumble, shifting your eyes away from the worker’s mask. “Can you at least promise me it won’t hurt?”

“Of course,” Monica giggles. She steps forward, her earrings dangling about, and white coat casually billowing behind her as she approaches. Her hand gently raises up, and Monica sweetly glides her manicured fingers along your cheek. “Ten, I assure you, it’ll be fine. I’ll make it feel good, okay? Anyway, we should go. I’d rather not waste time since it’s already pretty late in the day.”

She’s just as bubbly as ever, apparently. It’s pointless to stall, so you suck it up and give Monica nothing but a dreary “okay”. Upon looking back at the recreational hall, it seems that Lav’s long gone. You already miss being in her arms. Cyrus’ too. Their gentle, casual touches provided a much-needed respite from your woeful encounters yesterday.

Today was short, but you enjoyed what little of it there was. And tomorrow, Cyrus will probably try participating in the group again. Though tonight will be strange and unpleasant, it’s the thought of his rejoining that you look forward to, and it’s this that you try to focus on while the worker carries you away to your visit.

Chapter 77: Visit Thirty One - Nurture

Your eyes trail the curvy woman in your exam room while she removes her lab coat and hums to herself. You suppose it’s not strange that she’d be smiling over a private thought, but it still leaves you uneasy either way.

The worker who brought you here has by now long gone. He’d placed you on the bed under Monica’s instruction, or perhaps because he knew it’s where you’d end up anyway. Being out of his whitely clothed arms was a bit relieving, but now that you’ve been left alone with a visitor whose intentions remain unknown, that temporary respite has gone away.

Like the previous visit, you’re now sitting quietly on the bed’s edge, looking on at Monica as she neatly folds her coat up and places it on the counter nearby. The back of the bed itself has been raised slightly, so now it’s angled enough for you to sit back in it. You’re not sure what the chipper, brown-haired doctor has in store for you, but hardly look forward to it even knowing it’s less dangerous to your health—well, provided she isn’t secretly a sadist like Lilah. You may not get that impression from Monica, but some doctors have surprised you before.

Stupidly, you almost want to feel bad for the woman for having to put up with you when you’re already so tired of this place that you’re nothing but mean to her. You don’t regret being wary and biting knowing that this place is what it is, but Monica doesn’t seem like she deserves to be treated as harshly as other doctors. Probably not with utter respect given her compliance to the darker aspects of this place.

She’s not evil from what you can tell, and certainly far softer than other doctors. But new doctors in general probably have to face the prisoners all being pretty annoyed at them when they’ve already been exposed to other doctors. Yosuke probably got a lot of horrible looks from those of your friends he tried out. And God, you don’t even want to imagine how those visits went.

“I guess it was a little sudden that I asked for this,” Monica’s lively voice chimes in as she looks your way. “But seeing you the other day and getting flustered with Mamita got me a little excited.”

You don’t hesitate to be straightforward with her, knowing she won’t chide you for it. “What do you want me to do?”

Last time you tried this, Sven and Jude got pretty annoyed. Conversely, Monica doesn’t appear much offended.

“You don’t need to be impatient,” is her response, trailed by an airy giggle. “Do relax a little, Ten. I won’t hesitate to enjoy myself, but I won’t hurt you. I promised I wouldn’t. Just stay in that bed and you’ll be just fine.”

“Not like I have a choice with my cut foot. Anyway, you can’t expect me not to be a little skittish after everything I’ve put up with,” you frown. “Plus I’m really sore from yesterday. I had two rough visits and I don’t want to be hurt further. I can’t predict that you’ll be nice, but…”

“I’m not a wicked woman,” Monica assures you, as if attempting to affirm your prior thoughts. “I’m just trying to have a little fun. I’m not pushy like the others, I don’t think.”

She’s got that much right—she’s always seeking other people’s approval, and seems largely interested in being accepted over being dominant. But you still have yet to see her so genuinely upset that she’s pushed to act badly. The worst you’ve ever seen her was when she was upset over your pecking and questioning of her intentions. You’ve gathered that she doesn’t like accusations. Really, would anyone?

Once you stop really responding, Monica kicks off her shoes and white socks, and then heads your way. You find it strange she’s yet to fully undress, but figure she’ll do it in time. For the moment, she gives you a plump, maroon smile while standing before you. Your head picks up while you watch her brown eyes expectantly, awaiting some kind of action or order. Your lips are partly pursed, and your hands tighten their clasp in your lap.

Monica sweetly sweeps her knuckles down your cheek and brushes some stray hair away from your face. Her usually bubbly voice is now soft and sweet. “Don’t be so scared, Ten. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

“Do what?” You question, almost hushed in your uncertainty. Monica gives a sweet, airy laugh and asks you but one thing in turn:

“Have you played with a woman’s chest before? Or is that something you don’t do much of?”

You blush. Monica’s own breasts are staring you in the face, something you only grow self-aware of once she asks you this question. You figure she means for you to touch them, but you don’t right away. In fact, you end up averting your gaze altogether while Monica tenderly touches your cheek.

“I’ve done a few things with women,” is all you say, because it’s the simplest way to say it. You’ve been with Lav, and she’s the only woman who you’ve genuinely felt comfortable being naked around, the only woman you’ve felt comfortable touching and being touched by. You feel shameful with a doctor. It’s one of the only reasons you act so bashful and embarrassed around them. With Lav, you felt open. Loved. With a doctor, you feel like an object. Even with gentler doctors. “I’ve been felt by and have felt them. But I don’t know what you want exactly.”

“Fondle them,” is Monica’s sweet request. It hardly sounds like an order coming from her. She drops her hands and gently takes both of yours, then brings them up to her chest. “Don’t be shy! They’re quite nice to touch, you’ll see. I can’t even help myself sometimes. I’m not shy about my gifted body, so I like to touch it often.”

You continue to look at the floor while your hands cup Monica’s rather large chest. The tight shirt she has on is far more deceptive than you thought. Her breasts are even larger than Mom’s now that you’re actually touching them. What a strange comparison to make, but it’s all you can think of now since Mom’s the only other female doctor you’ve been visited by.

“Fondle them how?” You blush further. This visit isn’t starting off like you thought it might. Sure, it’s not rough, but this feels a little too…intimate.

You’re used to the men just tossing you around at worst, and gently laying you down while using your body as a precious toy for their pleasure at best. And with Mom, she’s always just given you a lot of sweet, giggly commands and treated you like a child, with the only other alternative being her raising her voice and getting upset and rough with you over noncompliance. Monica, however…she’s a softer woman, and she’s talking to you so sweetly as if you were someone she loved. It’s unsettling.

Monica’s smile persists. She places her palms on the backs of your hands and starts to move them in a circle.

“Play with them, squeeze them, anything you like,” she coos. “I like the attention. I like the way it feels to be touched. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“I mean…I’ve never been given the reigns like this except maybe once, and it was with a man,” you admit awkwardly while obeying the woman’s wishes. The rather voluptuous, warm breasts in your hands are almost like putty, even through the cloth of your visitor’s shirt and bra. The warm, sugary odor from her perfume is so prominent even with the slight gap between your bodies. “I-Is this okay?”

Monica brings a hand to her mouth and gives another giggle. The movement of her head makes her spherical earrings bob to and fro. “Ten, you are such a shy girl. Yes, just like that is fine. How do they feel?”

“They’re big,” you blush. “Um…they’re really soft.”

Lav’s were much firmer than this, likely because of all her muscle. Monica feels, well…squishy. There’s not really much else a way you can put it.

“Oh?” Monica looks at you curiously. “You couldn’t tell that through the clothes, could you?”

For just a moment, she pulls your hands away and starts to reach for the hem of her tight shirt. Without hesitation, the doctor pulls off the garment, leaving only her jeans and a deep brown bra behind. You can’t help but be flustered at the sight—her breasts are just barely held together in that thing around her chest. They practically push together in the garment, as if tightly cupped by each side and just smooshed against one another. The crease in her cleavage is quite pronounced.

“Feel it this way instead,” Monica urges with another darling smile. She doesn’t fold her shirt as she had with her coat, instead dropping the cloth to the floor.

Rather than guide you further, Monica leaves her hands behind her back and looks down at your hesitant, trembling hands as they again cup her breasts. Now that her shirt is off, you can more clearly see the flesh on her chest rise and move with each roll and squeeze you give.

This is extremely awkward—Monica is no doubt gifted in her size, but you’re a little too flustered to admit that or compliment her when she’s supposed to be an enemy of yours. She’s a doctor—why give them the time of day? Why be nice to them?

But, as if reading your mind, she urges you further. “Do you like them? Don’t they feel good?”

Again, all you can muster is commenting on their size, but this seems to amuse your visitor as she lets out an amused giggle again.

“Ten, how cute!” She sighs. “You don’t know how to deal with women very well, do you?”

“I do!” you take brief offense. “I just…um…”

This is a lot.

Just then, Monica reaches higher behind her back and undoes her bra, unhooking each end and letting loose her heavy breasts which sink a little now that they’re free from the garment’s cage. The sudden act leaves you instinctively trying to hold the things as the fabric glides away from them, and this makes Monica’s laughter again ring out in your ears.

“You can squeeze them a little harder, Ten,” she says, moving to slip each arm out of the straps of her bra. Only temporarily do you again remove your hands so that she can fully undress her torso. But, as expected to, you continue to feel up Monica’s chest just the way she wants.

“How hard?” You ask uncertainly. “I don’t want to hurt you and make you mad.”

“If it’s too hard, I’ll tell you,” you’re assured. “Squeeze them a little, won’t you? I want your hands all over them “

“What if I don’t want to?”

Monica frowns a bit at your suggestion, almost pouting. “Ten, you know better than to say no to a doctor here. I won’t hurt you, but I will have someone come make you do what I want instead if you get too difficult. I’m sure any of the men would be more than happy to watch you do this to me.”

Maybe it’s not a direct threat of violence, but it is an effective threat nonetheless. You’d utterly hate to think of any of the other men coming in and watching this all happen while jerking off in their mind, or perhaps even blatantly. You ultimately oblige the request and squeeze Monica’s tits much harder, rolling your hands around in her flesh and grabbing each plump side with a firm grip.

Her nipples are by now quite hard, and they run along the flesh of your fingers and against your palm.

“Mom’s never made me do this,” you admit, realizing how strange that fact is for a woman so infatuated with her looks and certain parts of her body.

“Mamita’s main fascinations are a little different than mine, even if we both like some of the same things,” is Monica’s sweet response. When you bother to look up at her, she’s still got a wide, warm smile on her face. Her cheeks by now are flushed, and her brown eyes focused dearly on your play of her chest. She’s relishing in this in a way you have never seen a woman relish in it. Perhaps she’s not outwardly sultry like Mom, but you feel the same energy radiating just from this gaze.

Monica gives a little sigh of pleasure as your skin rubs up more against her nipples.

“Oh my,” she breathes. “You’re doing so good for me so far! But do squeeze my nipples a little. I like that too.”

“I’ve never met a woman who gets off purely on this kind of thing,” you mumble while humbly doing as asked. You take Monica’s nipples between your thumbs and index fingers, and start to pinch and pull at them just the way she expects. This makes Monica close her eyes and bite her plump lower lip.

“It feels good,” she says forwardly, almost moaning them. “The satisfying feeling of people adoring my tits is much more than I could ever explain to someone who isn’t used to it, who doesn’t understand. It’s euphoric. But right now, I just want you to get used to them, and used to this. I figured you’d be weirded out by it.”

“Anyone would,” you tell her while keeping your eyes again affixed elsewhere. At least, it’s easy to be weirded out by it when you’re forced to do it to someone you hardly know. Just before all this you had so many emotional moments with this woman, and now you’re back to a routine of acting as a puppet for someone’s pleasures.

Still, it’s not the worst thing you’ve done. And it’s hard to really admit it, but Monica’s breasts are, to say the least, quite nice. Only if she tells you to start speaking so dirtily will you bother, but otherwise you remain flustered and quiet.

You can’t imagine any of the other Numbers going through this so readily. Maybe the peachy girlfriends and Lav are more accustomed to this kind of play and touch if they’re so used to the female body, but the boys must have felt so awkward doing this. Even if you’re certain some of them like girls, you don’t doubt they’d have thought the same things as you.

Monica lets out a light, moaning “oh” as you pinch and tug and rub at her nipples further. She winds up bringing her hands to her cheeks and giving a toothy smile of pleasure as you play with her.

“You’re doing so well!” She compliments you with a flustered voice. “Now please suck on them. As hard as you can.”

Suck on them…?

“Don’t leave me waiting, Ten,” you’re told in such a playful manner. “Suck them.”

You let out a bothered huff of air, but do lean forward. Your hands drop to Monica’s sides, much to her enamored delight, as your lips part and wrap around one of her nipples. This is probably the first time you’ve ever really done this, but it’s not especially difficult to figure out how to. The men have always done this with you, always had a strange fascination with your breasts and likely many others’. All you know to do is begin sucking and flicking the woman’s nipples in a playful manner with your tongue before taking in as much of her into your mouth as you can. As she wants it, you suck fairly hard, even slurping on accident with how much the force brings air into pockets between your lips and her flesh.

This, Monica adores the sensation of, something you can gather by the way she lets out a long sigh of pleasure. You continue on with this act the way she expects, lovingly lapping and slurping the woman’s breasts up and nodding your head against her chest as if needy for them. Strangely, it’s getting easier to deal with now that you’ve jumped into it.

However, after roughly suctioning one of her breasts for a while to the point that it’s swollen a bit, you’re suddenly taken aback by a strange flavor against your tongue—some rather sweet taste that, although not unpleasant, still takes you by surprise. You immediately pop off from Monica’s chest and lean back a bit to look at it, only to be left gasping at the sight of white dripping slightly from both her nipples, with the side you were hungrily sucking on dripping just a tinge more.

“Y-you’re leaking!” You point out in surprise. Monica, who had been relishing utterly in your forced worship of her breasts, is now left slightly frowning in disappointment.

“Oh…you stopped…” Her head tips forward to look down at her chest, but Monica hardly seems concerned. She smiles and gives a bit of a laugh at your disturbed expression. “Ten, it’s just milk. It’s nothing strange.”

“It’s strange to me,” you say, hesitating to keep going with Monica now that her breasts are starting to steadily drip milk. It’s not exactly a comforting sight. You know this is probably something women do, but…

“It’s nothing to be afraid of!” Monica urges you with a laugh. She outstretches her arms and wraps them around you in a hug, leaving you to uncomfortably wriggle in her grasp. You aren’t sure how you feel about being so close to her leaking breasts. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Please let go,” you beg. “I feel weird.”

Monica’s mood does not falter. “Have you eaten?”

“What? What does that matter?”

Monica’s hand sweeps along the back of your head, guiding it to tip up so you can face her. Upon seeing her face, you notice her even more flushed and enamored than before. It’s hardly comforting.

“You seem so fussy, Ten,” she coos. “You need some of this, don’t you? Maybe if you have some, you’ll feel a little better.”

“I don’t…” You hesitate and temporarily glance over at one of her nipples, watching another series of drops come out of her. Monica’s playful insistence does not budge.

“Ten, I like this sort of thing,” she says, temporarily bringing one hand to cup her fuller breast. She squeezes it just enough to make more milk come out, as if to show this to you. “I like playing with others like this, and I like when they play with me the same way. Some women can voluntarily lactate like this after a bit of stimulation. It’s not as unheard of as you might assume. But I enjoy the feeling of it, and of being suckled. So please drink from me. If you do that, I’ll make you feel good too. I promise.”

“It’s weird,” you refuse, your fists balling on the warmth Monica’s stomach as she keeps you close to her. Your face is utterly red by this point. “I don’t want to.”

Monica frowns a bit then and returns her hand to your back to keep you close to her. “Remember what I said, Ten. I’ll have one of the men come if I have to. Just be a good girl for me, okay? It’s not so bad, you know. And the taste isn’t quite so bad either.”

You nervously shudder a bit. “That’s not really helping.”

“Oh Ten, please hurry. I don’t like wasting milk like this,” Monica pleads as she watches the liquid drip down the underside of her breasts and trail onto her upper abdomen.

It’s stupid to think you can get out of it. You don’t like it, but you wind up giving into Monica’s wishes and opening your mouth again. At first, you only hover it over her left breast, but do eventually commit to cupping around the nipple and suckling the woman as she wants.

“You don’t have to stop sucking hard,” she urges in a blissful, light tone. “I’ve had people bite before without much issue, so feel free to.”

One of Monica’s arms slides a bit back, so that her hand can cup the back of your head and hold it against her. She sighs pleasurably as you partake in her strange fetish. She’s not talking rudely or being rough, but still managing to find a way to demean you. This is so new to you that you’re less offended and more surprised. Your face is still so red that it’s almost burning by this point.

The milk in Monica’s tender, swollen breast leaks much more when you suck harder, much to your displeasure. The flavor of the warm substance is sweeter than milk, now that you’re getting more than just a quick taste of it. Maybe the milk is even just the tiniest bit thicker than regular milk you’ve had in a glass, but not by much at all. It’s not a horrid taste. You might even be inclined to say it’s good if you weren’t so taken aback by the method of extracting it.

“Don’t neglect the other one,” you’re told with a slight, soft chuckle.

It’s no wonder Pickle didn’t want to talk about this kind of thing….it’s frankly a bit much to take in even if you’re able to comply with it. Obediently, your mouth parts from the flesh of her right breast and instead hovers over her other one. You repeat the suckling motion, lapping up her skin and slurping in any milk that flows through. There’s thankfully not as much flow here than on the other side, but it’s still coming out quite a bit nonetheless.

What you like even less about this all is that any occasional pressure on or around Monica’s nipple that’s more than what you’ve been maintaining results in a bit of spraying, and with all the flesh sucked into your mouth, the sweet liquid coats your tongue and nothing but. The first time it happens, you can’t help but pull back a bit in surprise, but Monica hardly lets you stop feeding off of her and gently guides your head back in place, to her left breast this time, with her sweet touch.

Perhaps it’s a mistake, but you accidentally let a whimper slip out while you’re sucking the woman of milk. You guess the vibration on her chest makes Monica more aroused, because her only response is to moan girlishly and hold you closer.

After a while of this, Monica finally asks you to stop, and lets you go entirely. Not wasting the opportunity, you pull away and wipe your mouth of the sweet liquid.

“Scoot over, please,” Monica instructs you. “I want to lay back on the bed.”

“And what do I do?” You question, still trying to gather yourself after the initial feeding. Even now Monica’s tits are still leaking a bit. Your visitor simply giggles and unzips her pants, then proceeds to give a coquettish wiggle out of her jeans while keeping her brown eyes lovingly fixated on you. Her unveiled underwear looks a bit higher cut than Mom’s, and is equally as deep a brown as Monica’s bra. The garment is not unbecoming of her rather curvy figure and warm beige skin tone.

“Sit on your knees for me,” she instructs, moving her thumbs now to the hem of her underwear and pulling even that down. She’s neatly trimmed and fairly fresh, all things considered. “I’m going to lay down with you next to me, alright?”

Her well-trimmed body is, despite her age, quite voluptuous. Perhaps there’s a few lines of age on her stomach and legs, a few patches of cellulite here and there, but she is otherwise more than you expected. She always dressed pretty casually, if in fairly fitted clothes. It’s quite flustering to see her so naked now, but a bit unnerving knowing that she might want you to keep feeding from her body once she’s on the bed.

Not knowing what else to do but follow your order, you allow the woman to come into the bed and sit up upon it. Monica’s back presses against the tilted portion of the elevated mattress, while you sit on your knees by her legs and await her instruction.

Monica continues to smile in enjoyment of all this, knowing well how you’re reacting to her body and relishing in the intimacy you’ve formed with such a strange act of breastfeeding. Maybe that shouldn’t shock you with how odd some people’s fascinations have been in this place, but this kind of awkward intimacy is not what you expected to genuinely have on a first visit. Most of your first visits have always been straight to the point—you’re bound, you’re raped, and you’re left covered in and filled with juices. Though you know it may come in a few moments, Monica hasn’t yet forced your legs apart or stuffed you with fingers or toys. She has yet to place her lips on yours or sloppily lap up some part of your body. Like Gale, Jonathan, and Nathaniel have before, she took her time to some degree. You wonder whether it’ll get worse from here, or stay like this.

Monica, still plucking at her rather erect nipples with her own fingers to keep the milk flowing, then beckons for you to come suckle her further. By now you know what to expect, so it’s not the uncertainty of what to do that irks you, rather just the awkward ordeal in general. Still, you lean forward, pressing each hand onto the mattress on either side of Monica’s wide hips, and begin to suckle at her breasts once more. Again, the flavor of her milk leaks out onto your tongue.

Whereas the first instance of being breastfed was more intimate, Monica expectedly starts to switch things up just a hair this time. With one hand, she pets your head as if to encourage your work of her tits. The other hand, however, slips down to her vulva, and she uses a few of her manicured fingers to pet and rub at her clit.

Are you just supposed to keep going and pretend she isn’t starting to masturbate? Are you supposed to acknowledge it and help her out? You don’t know. All you do is what was asked of you, and no more. You have no worries so long as you do this.

You end up having to use one hand to squeeze at one of Monica’s breasts to make more milk come out, as the amount is starting to slowly ebb, but not entirely trickle to nothing. Monica continues to sigh and moan with an enamored smile on her face in her delicious enjoyment of the attention, of your hands and tongue and lips all over her chest, and of her fingers rubbing hungrily at her clit.

Monica’s head sinks back into the mattress, and her sighs get far more frequent and loud the longer she goes at it. At some point, you try to catch your breath by detaching from her chest, but she begs you hungrily to keep going when you do. Her voice is desperate and airy, far different than you’ve heard it before.

“Ten,” she moans after a while longer. “Put your fingers inside me.”

The order takes you aback. You could easily hurt her if you aren’t careful, but it isn’t like you haven’t done this with a woman other than yourself before. You merely don’t precisely know what Monica likes, so you figure she’ll just tell you as she has been.

Slowly, you bring one of your hands down to Monica’s pussy, leaving the other to fully support your weight as you hunch forward and over the doctor’s body. Her hand does not leave her clit, but yours focuses on reaching where she wants it.

Instinctively, Monica’s legs spread a bit, her thighs trembling slightly in pleasure as she desperately awaits the fingers she requested. You don’t stop suckling from her heavy, swollen breasts as she needily bucks her hips and guides her pussy toward your fingers, forcing you to press into her when you’d just barely made it to her entrance.

You try to replicate what you’ve done before with Lav, taking tender care not to injure the woman, and going slow for her with two fingers. You make long strokes against her walls, rubbing and prodding inside Monica as she gasps and sighs into the air. Her sweet breath hits atop your head and part of your face, though that’s mostly replaced with the light scent of her juices now pooling in her pussy at the touch of your fingers.

“That’s perfect,” she breathes as you work the doctor how she wants. “Good girl.”

Her unoccupied hand continues to stroke your hair, petting you while she praises you. “Oh my, you feel so good! You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

You keep going slow with her cunt, but soon take the eager wriggling of her hips and the loving moans from her throat as an indication to change the pace. Once Monica makes it clear she wants more, you go a bit faster, and a bit harder.

“Pound it,” she begs while rubbing her clit a bit faster in turn. “Go as deep as you can…”

You do as ordered and let your knuckles meet Monica’s hole, slipping and thrusting your fingers in and out of her furiously as the woman’s breasts leak and leak and leak into your mouth. Though the milk periodically stops flowing, when you suck hard enough on her nipples, a bit more comes out. The few times you attempt to stop sucking so hard, Monica catches on and refuses to let you, making sure to remind you to suckle as much milk as possible.

Monica’s moans and sighs turn into feminine whimpers and whines. Only between gasps does she urge you on.

“Yes, yes!” She breathes. “Oh god…I’m almost….”

Monica’s hips buck forward as she rides your fingers, her body eager to come and her tits swollen with how much you’ve been sucking away at them by her command. In moments, the doctor lets out a final, enraptured moan while she lets go, fully reaping the pleasure from the acts she made you perform. You aren’t sure whether to keep fingering her or not until she begs, “don’t stop!” and cusps the top of your head desperately with her palm.

You slow your fingers’ pumping pace, but keep going for a while until Monica’s hips slow to a standstill. The milk she was expelling more frivolously soon completely stops flowing, but it takes a little longer for that to finish than it does for her orgasm to end. Only once Monica goes temporarily limp do you finally pull your wet fingers out of her, and completely retract from her chest. Not wanting to be asked to lick her juices up from your digits, you wipe the things on the mattress, then completely wipe your mouth again to rid it of sweet milk. Monica merely lays there, heavy chest rising and falling as she sucks in slow breaths of air. Her hands both fall at her sides now, and she gives another plump-lipped smile.

Looking at her face now reveals that Monica’s eyes were apparently closed at some point, but she opens them the moment you catch sight of her face. Her eyes continue to radiate that same enamored look, and her cheeks are even more flushed than before.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she coos while reaching a hand up to pet your cheek. “You like to think you don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not so hard, is it?”

“It was…weird,” you don’t try to hide it, and shift your eyes away. “I don’t know if I like that kind of play.”

“Why not?” You’re asked. “Ten, it’s a wonderful feeling, having young men and women feed off of you and lick you up. I can’t help but want more sometimes. It’s even better when you get two people to do it at the same time.”

She then chuckles upon seeing your reddened face. “Oh, Ten. Don’t worry. I promised I wouldn’t do too much with you. But I do want to return the pleasure. I want to make you come too.”

“Do I have a choice?

Monica giggles and sits up further, reaching her neck out to let her lips meet yours. She gives a quick peck.

“No.”

With that, she gets herself off the bed, leaving you alone to go to a cabinet. You’re unsure what she wants to do, but don’t budge from your place on the bed in case she intends to come back to it and take the same position. You can do no more than watch as she extracts a few things from different cabinets—an unusual device, and several wires and flat pads, for starters.

“Please undress for me,” she tells you, no doubt aware of your eyeing of her. “I’ll give you a treat, Ten. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

You’ve heard those words before. They’re never totally untrue, but the ordeals that have made those words somewhat true were always embarrassing. Still, you do start to strip as instructed, kneeling up a bit to peel the underside of your gown over your lower half, then raising it up to remove entirely. Like Monica’s pants, you drop the pinkish thing to the floor and sit awkwardly in your underwear. You don’t know whether to remove those too, but refuse to while you still can get away with it. Not like Monica hasn’t seen what’s between your legs already, though.

The woman you knew during your confinement and the woman before you now truly do feel different, as Monica had said they would. The bubbliness is consistent, but the vicarious sexual appetite doesn’t entirely fit the Monica you met, who you know is still there. What drives a person to willingly push that part of themselves away for just a little while? When this started she seemed gentle, now she’s giddy and, frankly, horny.

“What is that?” You demand upon eyeing the device in Monica’s hands now, left uneasy as the doctor brings the items closer to you. The device is small, and has a series of knobs at the top. It’s some kind of electronic, you think, judging by the square, shiny pane on its face.

“A tens unit,” you’re told as Monica peels apart the covering on the underside of a few tabs. “It’s going to stimulate you with some electric currents. Now sit back on the bed, okay?”

Quietly, you shuffle forward and turn your body to sit back in the angled bed as asked. Your eyes don’t once leave the tens unit in Monica’s hand, your heart nervously fluttering at the mention of “electric currents”. What makes you even more uneasy is watching Monica carefully paste the pads she peeled onto your breasts, with two on each one. She hardly touches your nipples, and instead sticks the pads onto the skin around them. Your chest rises and falls as you slightly gasp at the cold sensation of the sticky pads. You almost want to rip them off, but your hands stay still by your sides.

“Why are you putting those on?” You ask worriedly. You’ve made the connection in your head, but almost want an answer in affirmation. Monica merely giggles, letting the air escape through her nose as her mouth keeps shut with a pert smile.

“There we go,” she remarks happily once done preparing the things, utterly ignoring your question for the moment. Monica’s brown eyes shift over from your breasts to your face, and she simply watches you. “Ten, please keep your arms up for me, alright?”

You aren’t sure what she means, but bring both hands up to the side of your head, your elbows bent and your hands facing palm-up. “Like this?”

Monica nods and gives an approving smile. “Just like that! I want to make sure I can see your hands the entire time, okay? What I’m going to do might feel strange, and I don’t want you making any sudden moves. I don’t want to be surprised by any. Do you promise to be good?”

“Um…” You hesitate. What the hell is she doing this for? Is it going to hurt?

“If you don’t, I’ll have to tie you up. I don’t want to upset you on our first visit, so please just cooperate, alright?”

You don’t like the idea of being restricted and letting Monica torture your breasts, if that’s what she’s intending. So, you give her a childish nod and keep your hands steady against the mattress. Since you’re angled, it doesn’t hurt to keep your arms up like this.

You watch Monica’s fingers with unease as they move toward a few buttons on the face of the tens unit, under the square glossy pane. Once she presses one of them, brightly colored numbers that mean nothing to you show on the device’s screen. Slowly, and with a light click, the doctor turns one knob and activates the thing. Immediately, you feel a strange buzzing in your chest, no doubt from the electricity the unit is producing. Even though it’s not painful, the shock of it makes you jump and whine at first.

“It’s alright, Ten,” Monica assures you with a smile. “It’s just for stimulation. Or, well, it’s usually used for pain and muscle tension relief, but some people use it like this too. I can’t crank it very high since it’s risky to use around the chest, but just a few notches higher should be just fine enough to make you feel good.”

She raises the current, and the intensity of the vibrations in your chest grow.

“It feels weird,” you tell her, gritting at the strange feeling of electricity tingling around your breasts. Monica simply laughs in amusement.

“It’s not so bad! Just relax for me, Ten. And do make sure you keep your arms up, alright?”

Your knees press together as Monica places the tens unit on the bed beside you and runs her hand along your outer thigh.

“Relax,” she tells you again, still with a sweet, soft voice. “I’m doing this for you. It’s just going to be a little strange, that’s all. But so was the other stuff, and you did that pretty well.”

“I have to do what you people tell me,” you grit your teeth as your tits continue to be shocked by the tens unit. Your nipples are unfortunately fairly hard by now because of all the vibrations, but your focus on them is broken when you see Monica start to remove her glasses. She doesn’t look all that bad without them, you admit.

Monica rests her folded glasses by the tens unit, then returns to your legs at the end of your bed and continues to rub them delicately. Her touch is lighter and far sweeter than any man’s you’ve felt lately. It almost leaves you blushing.

Without hesitation, Monica spreads your legs and teases at your clit from behind your panties. She smiles a bit, watching your chest rise and fall as you let out a huff of flustered air.

“I told you to undress,” she says lightly. “But that’s alright. I’ll remove these myself.”

She doesn’t take much time between teasing you and pulling your panties down, though she doesn’t pull them down all the way. Rather, she leaves them at your ankles, then spreads your knees open so that your legs are parted enough to show your pussy. Monica’s smile keeps still on her face, and she lets out a throated giggle while watching your eyes avert hers.

Eagerly, the woman touches her bare fingers to your clit and trails circles over it, playfully and tenderly working you enough to get you blushing heavily at the warmth of her pad on the sensitive thing.

“Girls and women are a little delicate sometimes,” she says while tenderly petting your inner thigh with her free hand. “I’ve dealt with very many of them, but only in this place have I gotten to touch them so freely.”

“Did you torment them back then?” You question breathily as Monica relents in her teasing of your clit. The woman shakes her head.

“I said I’m not wicked, Ten,” she reminds you. “I’ve always treated my patients with respect. But girls in bed were always sweet little dolls. I love feeding men my milk while I touch them, or while they touch me. But girls, I try to be careful with. I know what it’s like to want attention and affection, so I let them have it after they give attention to me.”

She then kneels over on the bed and replaces her fingers on your clit with her tongue, lapping it up sweetly while her hands shift to your thighs and squeeze them gently. The feeling of her tongue down there only leaves you wriggling your hips and thighs around instinctively, but you otherwise stay still as told.

The shocking sensation on your breasts coupled with Monica’s long licking of your pussy and clit make you hot with heavy breaths, and leave your heart fluttering. Your head turns to the side as you’re worked, occasional girlish moans escaping your throat. You’re almost mad at how easily you succumbed to it all, but without all the fear of impregnation and without all the rough handling, it also doesn’t surprise you that your body reacted so soon. You don’t like being openly aroused like this, but with a female visitor who isn’t quite so fearsome, it’s safe to let go a little, isn’t it?

After a long while of working your clit, Monica lets a few of her fingers slip sweetly into your pussy. She knows just where to go, apparently, because she’s able to make you moan louder with each wriggling, pumping movement of her digits into you.

“Does that hurt?” She asks with an almost genuine concern. You give nothing but a flustered “no” before Monica cracks a little smile and keeps going. You’re still a tinge sore, but she isn’t rough enough with you to exacerbate the issue whatsoever. As promised, she’s gentle. Your tits, on the other hand, are getting so numb from all the electricity that you want to pull the pads off, but the moment Monica sees you reach down even a little, she pulls away from your crotch and tells you not to.

“Hands up,” she reminds you delicately. “Just take this a little longer, okay?”

“Please it feels weird!” You beg breathily. Monica refuses, returning her tongue to your clit and fingering you faster in response instead. Your hands merely turn a bit and grip at the cloth of the sheets. Your breathing quickens as Monica laps you up and pushes her fingers into you in just the right way. She giggles playfully into your skin, the vibrations of her voice only making you wetter.

Your hips start to roll against Monica’s face and fingers, the pleasure of her touch making you feel irrational, and like you’re about to melt. Coupled with the electricity teasing at your tender breasts, you feel as though you’re about to lose your mind. Drool starts to spill out from the corner of your mouth, and you do no more than let it as pleasure builds in your core.

“Please,” you beg again, weakly this time. “Oh…!”

Monica’s fingers curl inside you, stimulating your g-spot and leaving your pussy aching to come. You can’t take much more, so you wind up begging and begging for it, which Monica does her best to accommodate.

No more words escape your lips from that point until you come. All that emerges from you now are cries and whimpers and moans as Monica makes you sing. And, naturally, she relishes in the reaction, her brown eyes looking up happily at you as your chest heaves sharply with sucked air.

She hardly stops working your cunt until you stop being able to reap pleasure from bucking against her fingers. Only then does she pull back and lick her lips playfully.

“You’re so cute!” She repeats her earlier words. “The way you whimper like a precious little girl—no wonder Mamita likes you so much!”

“Please…take these off…” you breathe, again begging for relief from the electric stimulation in your breasts. “They’re so numb…”

“They’re a little swollen too!” Monica notes with wonder. However, she does not leave you hanging and does indeed push off the bed and move toward one side of it to reach for and switch off the tens unit. The sudden break from the electric pulses is relieving, to say the least.

Monica brushes away most of the items on the bed to make room for her to sit on your bedside. Once neatly seated, she removes the pads from your flesh, leaving them somewhere on the mattress while she focuses on touching your breasts with her hands. At first, she bounces the things a little and rubs her thumbs over your hardened nipples, as if in assessment. Only after a bit of this does she finally frown.

“I guess it was a little too demanding of me to hope you’d produce milk,” she says in disappointment. “It’d take quite a while of this to make it happen, but I suppose it was worth testing out.”

“What?” You’re left embarrassed. “You wanted me to-“

“I like being suckled, but I like this too,” Monica asserts. “Sometimes I like to see if other women will do it, but I haven’t been so lucky in this place. Even then, it’s still fun to watch you girls get bothered by having your tits played with and stimulated that way.”

Monica smiles again as her hands make work of your tendered breasts, squeezing and rubbing them playfully. This hardly helps the swelling.

“Does that feel good?” She asks sweetly. You wince.

“I don’t know. I still feel the currents in them even though they stopped.”

“And how about this?” Monica brings her fingers and thumbs to your nipples and pinches them playfully. You wince again.

“Ow!”

Monica sighs when she doesn’t get the reaction from your nipples that she wants. “Alright, I guess no milk, then.”

She continues to play with your tits, squeezing them firmly and watching as the flesh rolls around in her grasp. “I guess it’s unrealistic to expect it so suddenly. It’s much easier to make women who’ve been pregnant do it, but none of you girls have ever had children that I know of, so you would need much more stimulation over a long period of time for it to happen.”

“People really like this sort of thing?” You wince as Monica’s fingers rub playfully at your tender nipples again. She keeps her brown eyes focused on them now, as if expecting them to leak.

“Yes,” she says plainly. “I’ve been with men before who like to be breastfed, who have a fascination with women’s chests that way. I’m certain if you were ever to get pregnant, even If we had to prematurely remove the child in your tummy, that you could still produce milk afterward. And Yosuke seems quite obsessed with you, so even he might like to suck from you.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” you beg, blushing. “That’s awful.”

It genuinely upsets you that she’d say this. You thought she might have known better, but you suppose Monica did warn you she’d be so different in bed. You’ve nothing to be surprised by.

“You haven’t even felt what it’s like to really make a decision like that!” Monica seems disappointed. “Why don’t I show you how it feels?”

Before you can protest, Monica leans in takes one of your breasts in her mouth, suckling at it without a second thought. You wince once more at the sensation of her sucking a bit hard on you. Again, your fingers curl into the sheets over your mattress as she works you.

“That’s too much!” You sigh as she switches from one side to the other. Her tongue sweeps over your sensitive nipples a few times, but she mainly resorts to sucking and nibbling on the flesh of your chest. Only once it starts to heave a bit does she stop and pull back. When she looks at your flushed face, she giggles softly.

“See? You like it.”

“I don’t,” you try to assert, but Monica doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, I guess you are a bit sensitive after all the electricity,” the woman hums as her finger teases at one of your nipples. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

She stops hovering over you and instead takes away most of the items on the bed, then walks to another cabinet. You watch with worry as she does.

“What are you doing now?”

“I want you to feel the same pleasure I feel when I get suckled,” Monica refuses as she places most of the items on the counter. She then fishes out a vibrator from one cabinet. “Just one more, Ten. I promise it won’t hurt. And no more electricity on that area, okay? It’ll just be my mouth.”

You guess this is comparably better to getting the shit pounded out of you by a man, but you can’t take this much awkward babying. Plus, you feel like your body is just going to be numb all over with even more electric stimulation in your cunt as well as your chest. It’s a bit much, isn’t it?

The pinkish vibrator in Monica’s hands as she approaches your bed again doesn’t stay there for long, as she wastes no time in slipping the tip past your folds and into your pussy. She luckily doesn’t force it, and the wetness in your crotch is already enough to help guide it anyway, but you still feel the pressure of it entering quite clearly and let out a long sigh.

“No pain?” You’re asked, and you thankfully are able to shake your head no. Monica smiles again and simply turns the vibrator on inside you, letting it pleasure you while she focuses on moving back to your tits, now a bit red and swollen from all the stimulation.

“Now stay still, Ten,” she instructs you, now hovering over your body and pressing one hand against your mattress. She doesn’t bother to lay or sit back on the bed this time. “Keep your arms up as I said, and make sure to focus on how it feels to be suckled.”

“The men have done it to me plenty,” you chide her quickly. “This isn’t any different!”

“The men lick your tits up like you’re some kind of human ice cream cone,” Monica scoffs at your attempt to deflect her. “You haven’t much felt the intimate pleasure of being loved and sucked on It’s different with me. I love how it feels to breastfeed, and I love how it feels to milk others. Even if you don’t make milk for me, I at least want to feel you in my mouth. Alright? Think of it as a bonding moment for us, since I haven’t gotten to know you much!”

You gasp as she immediately starts to suck away at your chests again, the warmth of her plump lips wrapped around your nipple while her other hand works your other breast, tweaking at the flesh. It almost hurts how hard she’s doing it, but with how much stimulation there is from the vibrator in your pussy, you can’t bring yourself to feel the pain. If anything, the sensation is just strange.

A part of you wants to push her away, but you’d rather not chance genuinely pissing her off or getting her to follow through on her earlier threats, even for how light they were compared to many you’ve gotten. All you do is breathe heavily at all the sensations in your body right now—Monica’s warm mouth all over your breasts, her fingers on your nipple, the buzzing thing in your cunt spreading its vibrations even to your clit with how strong it is…you’re left helpless to it all. Worst of all is that Monica’s intentionally letting out loving moans as she suckles you, both because she evidently finds pleasure in this, and because she wants you to as well.

When you eventually let out a whine from the prolonged pleasure of being stimulated by the sweet doctor, Monica pulls back a bit and looks at you with a gentle smile. Somehow, her maroon-ish lipstick has yet to fade or rub off on you, and looks as fresh as it had when she started.

“Does it feel good, Ten? You’re drooling a bit, you know.”

You can’t manage words right now, but do finally become aware of the fact that she’s right. You’d drooled earlier, and seemed to have started drooling again at the clusterfuck of stimulation. Monica watches your face with a girlish glee.

It’s after observing you briefly that she returns to suckling you, greedily slurping up your flesh and squeezing your bare breast with her free hand as if it were putty. Your bent and open legs shift around slightly as the vibrator continues to mercilessly pleasure you, your body becoming restless with the continuous stimulation. Strands of Monica’s hair falling from the sides of her head periodically brush along your chest, and her hot, sweet breath warms your skin.

“I’m…” you huff, but fail to finish your sentence. Monica knows well what you mean to say by the way you’re clutching the sheets, curling your toes, and wriggling your hips in response to everything. Her tongue laps at your nipple while she sucks the tip of your breast into her mouth, her muffled voice chuckling sweetly as you start to come. Once your hips begin to roll around , she finally lets go of your chest and instead brings herself up to observe your face.

Your mouth remains agape while you come, though your eyes wind up shutting. Monica, enraptured by your lust, brushes some of her fingers against your cheek and guides your head toward her. Sweetly, she presses her mouth against yours, leaving all your trailing moans to muffle in her sugary kiss. While you writhe and whine beneath her, she feels the sides of your body, running her hands up and down your chest and trunk until your pleasure ebbs and your body goes limp.

Once you’ve stopped moving, Monica reaches a hand down and turns off the vibrator, the thing having made a mess of your sopping cunt with all its whirring inside you. Monica leaves the object on the bed and between both your legs, but otherwise keeps her focus on you. Once you’re left panting through your nose, she pulls away and smiles at you.

“Do you get it?” She asks. “How good it feels to have someone suckle you while your body just drinks in pleasure at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” you breathe in response once you can form words again. “I’m not used to it.”

Monica chuckles. “Well, normally I’d use more toys and play with your pretty tits a lot longer, but I won’t push you harder. You already seem a bit overwhelmed.”

She’s stopping for your sake? That’s not something the doctors here usually do, is it? You can’t fully think right now.

“My chest feels weird…” You note while glancing down to observe the reddened skin. Monica’s sucking merely made the initial swelling worse. The swollen flesh makes your chest feel a bit heavier than earlier.

Finally able to stop holding them up, your arms drop down to your sides. Monica glances down at your slightly swollen breasts and frowns.

“Mm, I guess I did suck them kind of hard,” she remarks. “Sorry, but the slight inflammation should go down soon. It is a bit difficult to avoid your first few times. But you eventually get used to it. Some people get pretty passionate and toothy with their suckling, you know.”

Apparently contented with the visit, Monica sits at your bedside, body still completely nude.

“Are we done?” You ask her with confusion. You half expected her to keep tormenting you. The other doctors are so used to coming over and over again that it’s bizarre when a doctor ends it early for any reason other than making you want more, like Micah. Monica even looks at you as if the question were odd.

“Do you expect more? I don’t marathon this kind of thing like other doctors. I don’t have the energy like I used to, but I certainly have the will. It usually depends on how I feel a given day, and I’ve sometimes pushed myself more than I should because I’m enjoying myself too much. But I have restraint sometimes.”

She then giggles. “You should have seen me when I was younger. I was much wilder. But anyway, I had a good time with you. You’re such a sweet girl, Ten. I see why you’re so popular here!”

“I’m not,” you deny it, pouting and holding your arms. “There are others here who play favorites with other Numbers.”

You sigh. “Why are you content doing this? I thought maybe…”

“I was different?” Monica frowns. “Ten, I said I’d be what you expect during playtime. I want to feel good no matter what.”

You notice a hint of hesitation in her voice when she says this. Moreover, she soon looks away in remorse. “I do feel a bit bad about all this, but this kind of thing is something of a vice. It’s addictive.”

It seems she’s abandoned her play mode and reverted to her usual self. She’s acting much more like the woman you spoke with during your confinement. The woman who sympathized with you over all the horrors you faced.

“What is?”

“The feeling of lust and gratification,” you’re told simply. Even Monica doesn’t deny that. “I can enjoy myself here without much consequence. I can make the boys do what I want because they’re afraid of what could happen if they don’t comply, and I get to make the girls feel special by giving them a break from all that nasty pounding.”

Monica practically swoons thinking of it. “I love the way it feels to have the boys inside me, or to play around with the girls.”

Her eyes almost seem glossy with this longing of hers, and the way she croons so sweetly about how much she loves her visit nearly reminds you of Mom. You find that fairly unsettling to think of. However, Monica seems to almost catch her behavior and tones things down again.

“But it’s not just sex and euphoria itself, really,” she tries to convince you. Her hands slip up over her flushed cheeks. “It’s something else entirely sometimes! When I breastfeed, sometimes I do pair it with sex for the sake of euphoria, but other times it’s so intimate and loving that I can’t help but feel good about doing it. It makes me happy.”

She then frowns and drops her hands entirely. “But I don’t like seeing people be sad or scared of me. So I try to be nice when I’m not using them. I know I’m not the only one who’s had thoughts about the whole thing either—surely other doctors have brought that up with you once or twice?”

You gain nothing in lying to the woman. “A few times.”

You’re still taken aback by her mentioning that she breastfeeds most everyone she visits, and hardly can imagine any of the boys willfully drinking from her like you did. The act itself isn’t…vile. Not really. You can’t much find it despicable, just strange. It’s everything else surrounding such an act that you think is vile—the threats, the aspect of no consent, and the vicious sexual appetite that bleeds into every facet of your treatment.

Monica sighs. “Well, the boys certainly struggle to accept it more than some of the girls. They must not like how intimate it gets. Boys often struggle to be loving when they’re told they have to be strong. The boys here seem to struggle a lot with affection, and it’s something Gale made me aware of recently.”

Your attention is grabbed by her mention of Gale, who you’ve not seen once since they were severely beaten by The Overseer. However, Monica hardly talks about them otherwise.

“But some girls are accustomed to the female form already,” she goes on. “Not like they automatically accept my fascinations, of course. It’s just not quite as jarring. We women are built for this kind of thing, aren’t we?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” you mutter. “I don’t like that implication that all we are is vessels. I especially don’t like what you said about my doctor either. Even if it wasn’t exactly about the issue of pregnancy itself, that still stung. All of that is still so touchy for me.”

“That was merely me playing around, Ten. I’m sorry, but don’t think much of it.” Monica shakes her head. “I only got a little excited about the idea of breastfeeding itself, not of you getting pregnant. I know what that means for you. Of all people, I know.”

You pout. “When did you even start liking that stuff?”

“Hm? I don’t much remember where it started. I’ve liked the sensation of suckling for a long time.”

“And why can you even do it on demand like that?” You question further.

“Why? Maybe I’m lucky,” Monica ponders this with a distant look in her brown eyes. “Some women find it easier to do with less stimulation, but I do it fairly often enough for me to produce milk more easily than someone like you.”

Your brow lowers. “But you said it’s something pregnant women usually have an easier time doing, and you sound like you’ve been doing it a while.”

“I don’t see how that matters, Ten.”

“So then have you been pregnant before?”

Monica pauses and give another one of her vacant, focused stares, as if trying to think. “Well…”

You huff. Again with her? This is getting annoying. “Monica, why do you always do that?!”

“Huh?” The doctor looks over at you with surprise. “Do what?”

“That stupid spiel of yours—you always play dumb and brush me off when I ask you anything at all. It’s so frustrating! I’m not asking things that could get us in trouble, am I?”

Monica frowns then, her brows upturned as if she’s just been hurt. “Ten, I-“

“Am I not allowed to know anything about you, even if it’s harmless?” You go on, interrupting her. “I’m not allowed to understand you when there’s so much about you that’s so confusing?! Every time I try to understand something, all I end up with is more questions.”

You stop yourself and lean forward, unfolding your arms and pressing each palm to the sides of your head. “God, I shouldn’t even be asking to begin with. But you especially…something about you is so fucking strange. You always feel so out of place from everyone. Even with this visit, it started off so different.”

Monica’s hesitance is replaced by frustration. “I don’t want to talk about all that again! We went over this last time, Ten. You hurt my feelings just ripping into me that way. I’m trying to be kind. Why is that so strange?”

“Because since you came here, everything about you has been wrong! Who you are, when you came, how you’ve acted…you leave me so confused! I ask such innocent questions and you look at me or the ceiling like your brain isn’t working, or like you’re afraid of answering me openly when it’s not even something bad. Why?!”

“Well—”

You can’t bring yourself to stop. You have more than just that issue with her. “And you knew the Nurse’s titles before even actually learning them fully. And then one of my friends has recognized your face before even if he wasn’t sure it was really you he remembered. I can’t figure it out.”

Is all this something that could get you in trouble when the questions have mostly been innocent? Is knowing who Monica is and what she likes a problem? God, your head is dizzy with frustration at this point. Why did you think you’d learn anything new? Moreover, why do you keep pushing so much? Is it because she’s easier to push with? Because you yearn to know more about her when so much has seemed so off?

Yes. It’s everything. All of it.

Monica struggles to respond to you, or else she’s refusing to. You can’t much tell with your head hung and your eyes shut tight.

Strangely, she does not yell or raise her voice against you. She does not fight back like she did before. All she does is put her hand gently on your shoulder in assurance.

“Ten, I don’t know,” she says. You expected her to snap at you, to go on about how offended she is for your being so cruel to her, but she sounds almost tired. “Every time you ask me something about myself, I want to tell you, but I just can’t.”

You say nothing. You figured she would give you that answer. You expected she’d keep things vague. You finally have this mysterious woman right here to try figuring out in a slightly more private space, and the attempt is going nowhere.

Monica pauses a moment before trying to continue speaking. “I don’t have an answer for you most times. When you ask me where I went to school or what I studied, I can tell you clearly. You can ask me about my childhood and about my mother and father, and I would tell you. But when you ask me about my adult life, about how I got here, about whether I’m married or if I have kids or what precisely I did before all this…I just can’t remember.”

Your eyes slightly widen, and your hands drop. Slowly, you look over at Monica who’s torso is turned toward you, her eyes solemn, her lips pressed together.

“What?” You’re in disbelief. That isn’t at all the answer you expected. In fact, it makes no sense at all. “You can’t tell me that’s the truth. You’re lying.”

You want to believe that. You suspected there had been something amiss from the woman from day one, but being told this outright is difficult to accept despite all your want of affirmation.

“Ten…” Monica’s voice remains soft, but you don’t budge. You’re starting to panic now that she’s told you this. You have many reasons to.

“You’re making that up. Maybe you’re working for him and you’re just here to antagonize me like everyone else. You’re might tell him what I asked, and he’s going to get mad.”

Are you projecting all your fears in this moment? You can’t help yourself all of a sudden. Why are you shaking?

“No!” Monica refuses this notion and clutches your shoulder tight. “Listen to me! You get mad at me when I avoid your prying questions and then get mad at me when I finally have the chance to tell you the truth? That’s not fair!”

“I don’t know that I can trust you!” You shoot back, shaking your shoulder away. You’d like to stand and move away from Monica, but with your foot still injured, you can’t. Not easily, anyway. “After everything that’s happened and all the shit I’ve had to put up with…I don’t know what to think!”

You huff and press a few fingers to your temples. Again, you repeat the same fearful sentiment from before. “I shouldn’t even be asking when I just got in trouble for doing that already.”

“We’re okay to talk here,” Monica tries to assure you. Again, you won’t budge. Your mind just keeps running now.

“I keep wanting to believe that, but how do I know that for sure? Even if that’s likely the truth, how do I know I can trust you when you’re so good at lying to other people about little things? You lie to Mom and you lied to Yosuke without a single problem. You could easily do the same with me. You could even blab about all this to your boss, like I said.”

“Because if I tell you about this, I could get in trouble too!” Monica tells you, firmly this time. This declaration makes you shut up and look at her with surprise. “He doesn’t have cameras in the exam rooms. He doesn’t like wasting his time recording what goes on here, and from what I know, the limited time we have for visits leaves those of us who want to feel as good as possible for as long as possible with little time to talk like this anyway. But believe me when I say I’m not supposed to tell you about my memory. If he were to find out I said even a single thing, he’d take away everything from me!”

The genuine fear and slight wetness in her eyes as she says this almost shakes you. Maybe you should feel powerful having brought a doctor, a facility doctor no less, nearly to tears with your stubbornness. But all you feel now is guilt watching Monica like this.

“This place is all I have,” she practically whispers. “I have a home, a job—that’s all I know that’s mine. I can’t remember who I am or if I was somewhere before all this with someone important. I don’t remember how I ended up here. I just remember being told that I was going to work here. I was convinced that I’d applied for a position here and invited to this place exclusively, but if that’s the truth, I don’t even remember doing that.”

You shake your head. “That doesn’t make sense. You couldn’t have been drugged if you remember how to do your job so intricately, if you remember so much about your life and only have forgotten specific things. None of us can remember our past at all, and some of us hardly even remember how to do the things we once might have known how to. So why?”

“I don’t know why I can and can’t remember certain things,” is Monica’s frustrated reply. “I get headaches when I think too hard about it. All I can do is try to win everyone’s favor and try to find my place here, because this place is all there is for me. I can’t figure out anything more. I don’t even have contact with any of my old family. I don’t know if they’re alive or if they moved away or if I cut off from them at some point. I can’t just go to anyone saying that I can’t remember who I am. He won’t let me leave, won’t let me talk to anyone else but the people who work here. All I can do is follow orders.”

“I don’t understand…” You continue to feel frazzled at all this. “You like it here. You said so. You can’t tell me you feel this way and that you’re suffering when you’re here enjoying the feeling of my body and all my friends’ bodies! That’s not how it works!”

“I like how it feels,” Monica again relays her sentiment as she brings a weary hand to her own cheek. “I can’t help it. I can’t leave, but I can’t hate it here either. There’s people here that do make me happy, friends that I’m starting to make. I’m starting to fit in. And in return for that good feeling, I just have to do as asked. If I keep my head down and my chin up, I’m fine. I don’t know who I am. He does, but he won’t tell me, and I’m not supposed to ask. I’m supposed to do my work and nothing more.”

“Why are you…” you hesitate. Your incessant state of panic is ebbing slightly, but you remain utterly on edge nonetheless.. “…Why are you telling me all this?”

Monica, despite the hurt in her eyes, strangely starts to smile. “I didn’t want to. But there’s something about you that reminds me so much of me. You’re a bit naïve, but stubborn. You’re new and everyone takes advantage of you. You feel out of place, and you want to know why while also wanting to be accepted and loved. We’re not that different, you know.”

“I’m not you.” You assert this without question. Monica can’t help but give a tired half-laugh.

“You aren’t, but we share a lot of problems, it seems,” she mumbles. “I wanted to see you for a visit, Ten. I didn’t expect things would go this way. But you’re so goddamn stubborn that it hurts me to see you upset over something I can’t control.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you. I want to know all of you!”

This is all far more to take in than you can really handle. Why is Monica’s memory missing? Why didn’t Mnemosyne wipe that away? Was she given Mnemosyne at all, or is this some kind of normal amnesia? And more importantly, if she’s telling the truth, then why did this happen? Did The Overseer do this to her? For what reason?

What scares you most is not knowing with certainty whether Monica can be trusted. You still don’t think it’s out of the ordinary to assume she really is working with The Overseer, or at least would be willing to rat you out to him for the sake of earning his approval. If that’s possible, then you wish you hadn’t blurted that out in a panic, because it’s not something you want your enemy knowing you’re privy to.

Moreover, you’re sure these rooms are private if you’ve said a few questionable things in your room already since your time back without any semblance of consequence yet. However, now you can’t help but wonder—how can you be sure The Overseer didn’t start monitoring your rooms specifically, knowing that you were leaving with valuable information about this operation? He could easily just be brushing aside some of the things you have said while awaiting something more incriminating to escape your lips. But that man has struck you as someone who dislikes keeping loose ends. It doesn’t make sense for him not to monitor you as closely as possible given that fact.

Hell, it hardly made sense for him to let you live, to let you keep your memory, to let you walk these halls without consequence for everything before. You don’t get it. Why are you always protected by chance? Or is it for some other reason that you’re constantly given these chances?

Will you even be protected from the dangers of this conversation?

All you can do now is wait, unfortunately. If The Overseer doesn’t come after you, you’ll know this room is safe. If he does, then you can only pray for another miracle, or else face death head on. You did it once already. You’re sure you can do it one last time.

“Your boss has been said to always find things out eventually,” you soon remark. “I can’t tell whose side you’re really on, or if what you’re saying about the potential risk of telling me all this is true. But regardless, won’t he find out what we said here?”

“If we keep things quiet, he won’t,” Monica again tries to assure you.

“But he seemed suspicious of you being so chatty before. Why would he just allow you to be around me knowing how dangerous a combination our own faults are?”

Monica sighs. “I don’t know. Who’s even to say he will? But it feels good to finally tell someone about this. I’ve had to play pretend for so long…”

You look on at her firmly, attempting to assess her intentions. Her face only reads genuine sorrow. If this is an act, it’s a very good one.

“Does anyone else know?” You’re already deep into this by having heard Monica say this. You might as well keep pressing now that she seems defeated enough to tell you what you want to know.

“No,” you’re told bluntly. “Not that I know of. So far as I’m aware, it’s only the two men. But I could be wrong. I’m not exactly kept in the loop about a lot.”

“Are they responsible for this?”

“I don’t know. It’s mysterious to me as it is to you. But I think they are.”

You ponder this. There’s no way The Overseer isn’t part of this, but what motivation does he have in erasing a doctor’s memory? Why couldn’t he have done that with other doctors too if he knew how? If it’s a matter of unruliness, Mom and Richard would have been prime candidates for a memory wipe. Mom, Monica, Lilah, Milos, Gale, and his own “brother” have all acted out before, in fact. But Monica doesn’t seem at all like the bombastic, outlandish type. She’s too focused on fitting in rather than blatantly causing trouble. So why?

Did she do something to warrant this? Did she used to work here? And if not, did she learn about this place somehow?

You strain yourself further trying to piece it together—with Two having recognized her, with Monica unsure whether she’s been here, with all the nurses acting so alert to her, and Monica in turn knowing who each one was...there’s no way she hasn’t been here before.

“Are you alright?” She interrupts your thoughts. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ve been dealing with it for a while so I’m past the point of being shocked by it.”

“Of course it’s a lot!” You press her angrily. “If this is all really true, then that man’s not even limiting his experiments to just swept-up prisoners. I can’t fathom why he did this to you, and only you.”

You shake your head. “What’s even worse is that I think….I think you might not be new to this place.”

“You think so too?” Monica frowns. “I thought about it while going through training, and even after I started actually working here.”

“What can you remember?” You should be biting your tongue. You should be stopping, right now. But you aren’t. Monica seems sincere in a way that you almost want to trust her. And, in the end, you were probably in danger the moment she said she couldn’t remember certain things. Your only hopes lie in her being truthful, and this place being untampered. But that’s out of your hands.

Monica looks up at the white, bright ceiling and closes her brown eyes, thinking on your question a moment. “I woke up in my home, not sure what had happened before, but when I checked my messages, I was asked how things were going after an accident I apparently had. My boss made it sound like I had been in line for an interview and that I’d been hurt, so he had to postpone it. I thought nothing of it—I could remember the house I was in, I could remember my belongings and most of my life. I just couldn’t remember what I was doing right before all that, and certain things that didn’t impact me in the moment. But me living alone didn’t seem so out of place, so I didn’t think a thing of it. I didn’t really even want to, at first.

“I was interviewed by Lucius and my boss upstairs, as if it were a normal job interview. But when I was told about the more intricate aspects of this place in a private room, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I didn’t believe I’d actually tried to work for a place like this. I couldn’t remember requesting to or being sought out at all. But I didn’t ask questions. How could I?”

“You didn’t at all think to try leaving and finding help?”

“I wanted to, but something stopped me,” Monica explains. “I don’t really know what. A gut feeling, maybe? I kept trying to talk to someone about it, but every time I picked up the phone, I had no idea who to reach out to, and a part of me refused to dial to begin with. So all I did was start working here. I kept thinking to myself, ‘maybe it will make sense later’ to cope with it.”

“And it didn’t.”

Monica opens her eyes again. “No, and the approach didn’t last long anyway. I remember my first day of training, I even almost went down the wrong hallway, and Lucius had to tell me to follow him instead. It was around then that I wondered if I’d been here before. I have trouble remembering how to navigate this place sometimes, but there are halls I feel instinctually obligated to go down. I don’t go down them now because he says I don’t need to, and that my job is limited only to specific areas. He even made it so my code doesn’t even work on certain hall doors. I can’t leave this sector other than to go to main areas. You’ve probably seen a few of them since you had to be taken from his room to where I was.”

You cover your mouth and try to figure this out, concentrating your empty gaze on the sheets of the bed. What reason would The Overseer have for this other than to experiment on Monica? But if he’s doing even that, then what warranted her being a guinea pig to begin with? Was she reckless? Did she piss him off? Cross him?

Again, Monica interrupts your thoughts by making mindless comments, perhaps because the silence is leaving her so uncomfortable. “In the beginning, I just thought maybe I had some unresolved trauma that I blocked out, or severe memory problems. It’s why I told you what I did about having a bad experience I wanted to forget. I was a little ditzy when I was young, and I recall family who have had issues with their memory before, so a part of me sort of accepted those memory problems as a potential reason for all the lapses in my memory. My boss is so good with the brain, I thought to ask him about it, and even he seemed certain that it was just what I suspected.”

“Why would you ever trust that man?” You question in disbelief. Monica merely shakes her head.

“I was so lost, I didn’t know who else to ask. I didn’t even really feel like he was a bad person at first—just rough around the edges and fairly strict and sharp. He had no reason to be mad at me, so he never presented anything but general sternness.”

You scowl. “What about all the terrible things you know happen here?! Wouldn’t that have immediately turned you off? Made you afraid? Hesitant?”

“I never saw it with my own eyes,” Monica admits. “I’d only heard things about it. Only later when I got to see the Numbers more closely did I get to see how you’re treated. And even then, I realized I wasn’t exactly innocent myself. The idea of being touched and of touching someone else made me-“

She almost wants to stop herself, but refuses. “It made me eager. I hated thinking that I was like that, but when he said I could have my own, I wasn’t disgusted by it, and I don’t know why.”

When you scoff and turn away from the doctor for admitting this, Monica sighs. “I can’t make that part better for you, unfortunately. But as far as my boss goes, there was truly a part of me that feared him. But at the same time, I had nobody else who could answer these questions I had. Even online research didn’t help me too much, and I couldn’t exactly ask any of the other employees.”

“Do you have any memory of your boss or Lucius at all?”

Monica’s head shakes back and forth a bit. “No. He felt familiar, but I couldn’t place whether I’d met him other than maybe when supposedly applying here. In the beginning, I was told what was happening and I believed it all because I wanted to make sense of things. Thinking too hard about it only bothered me. But the more I went on working here, the less I believed what I was told, and the less I could confide in my boss and his partner. I even stupidly asked him why I was struggling like this so much and he kept brushing me off and saying it was just a condition of mine. He even falsified paperwork to make it believable, and I only found out when I looked up the company that had supposedly done my tests and learned they didn’t even exist.

“I stopped believing him entirely after that, and he even stopped trying to convince me of it. But I was so afraid of being hurt by trying to dig for the truth that I never tried hard enough to. I’ve heard what happens to people here when they disobey hard enough, and aren’t needed by my boss. I don’t think I’m needed. If I screw up, I don’t think I’ll get protected like Mamita.”

“No,” you don’t disagree, knowing full well how much Mom gets away with even when she does get punished. “You wouldn’t.”

“My boss was so even-tempered with me at first,” Monica presses on, “but before I stopped prying into my issue, he got mad. His more frightening qualities shined through, and I feared him. He stopped treating me like normal, and he was so much more sharp and cold, like he hated me. So I figured that if I just pretended nothing was wrong and kept going like normal, it wouldn’t hurt as much to be like this. I would satisfy him, stay safe, and be okay. I thought that If I could just act the way the others do, I might adapt. Since I’ve started being more compliant, I haven’t had much trouble. He still looks down on me, but he doesn’t do anything against me.”

She huffs a bit of air from her nose, disheartened. “And I do feel for you all, really. I think you’re much too sweet to be in a place like this. But there’s nothing I can do. Like all of you, I’m afraid of consequence. And, like all the doctors, I think I’m a little fucked up too.”

“So why tell me now knowing that it’s dangerous?” You demand, still ever-wary of the woman’s intentions. Monica’s brows furrow as she looks at you.

“You still don’t trust me?”

“If we’re both scared, then you know why I’m struggling to accept this so easily. If you’re really innocent, then you shouldn’t take offense knowing that.”

Monica shakes her head. “Ten, I didn’t want to tell you about this. At the very least, if I knew I had to tell someone, I wanted to wait until way later, when I was sure it was safe to. But I’m so tired of you treating me like I’m evil when I’ve done my best not to be! I get so mad when people make so many accusations without knowing what it is I’m going through. And I especially get frustrated when people don’t like me.”

“The way Mom didn’t?”

Monica frowns. “Yes. So I appeased her. I don’t think we’d ever have gotten along otherwise because she’s as stubborn as I am. She had no reason to dislike me other than bitterness and past experience, I think, and all I could do to make her happy was be a little subservient and let her take lead of things. But there’s still a lot about each other we don’t know, so I can’t totally say much about her past experiences and why she is the way she is with other people.”

She brushes aside some wrinkles in the bedsheets and lays back on the mattress, curling up to one side and facing away from you. “I don’t know what to expect now. I know telling you was a bad idea. But I just needed to get it off my chest. The only one who really knows I’m struggling with something is Gale, but I don’t know if they know why, and I’m not sure I should say it out loud.”

You frown. “I don’t know. There’s a lot your boss doesn’t tell them. I don’t doubt this is one of those things they don’t know everything about, but it’s possible they know something. I can’t usually place them, even when they tell me things point blank. If it’s hard for me to trust your words as true, it’s even harder for me to trust theirs. All I know is that they won’t hurt me.”

Your heart bears heavy remembering Gale’s tender treatment of you at your lowest point. Their attachment to The Overseer leaves it hard for you to fully accept them, even though they’ve been so helpful to you before. But now, you’re not at your lowest point anymore, and you’re not depending too hard on a doctor for affection and validation. So, biting back against Monica isn’t difficult. You suppose she won’t hurt you either, but you still have yet to see where her loyalties lie. She could easily be as attached to The Overseer as Gale, but you aren’t sure if that’s the impression you’re getting. You have to observe her and see for yourself.

As your eyes trail over to the woman’s bare back, you can’t help but reach a hand toward Monica. Your fingers hover over her flesh as they snake up toward her neck, and once they touch her, she shifts a bit, turning her head just barely enough to see you reaching toward her.

“Ten?”

You say nothing and brush away some of her locks, enough to expose the patch of hair just between her cranium and her nape. Perhaps you expected to see an uneven patch there, but it’s completely full of thick, brown hair. Only once your search is fruitless do you wind up letting out a breath of air and recoiling from the woman again.

There’s no evidence of a performed procedure, but there’s no telling how long it’s been since Monica was dosed with Mnemosyne, if that’s what’s happened to her. At this point, it feels like the only fitting explanation, but it also feels so unfitting given what you know about the drug and its effects on you and the other Numbers. It doesn’t add up. Monica both is and is not a thing like you.

“Monica, I’m still not sure how to take all this,” you tell her. “Moreover, I don’t really know what to do with this information. It hardly helps do more than assuage many of the questions about you I’ve had in my head for so long. Though, it does bring even more questions to light.”

Monica turns her body over and faces you, still laying in the bed and leaning comfortably on the incline. Her doe-ish brown eyes observe you intently.

“I can’t help you do anything other than learn,” she says openly. “If that’s what you want.”

You turn your head, confused. “Why?”

“If I’m already endangering myself by telling you the one thing I never should have, then I don’t see why not.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Monica shakes her head. “I don’t want to be alone with this. I guess it’s not the best thing to tell a prisoner about it, but I think you’re trustworthy. Or maybe I just want you to trust me.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes from your mouth. She’ll tell you anything? Anything you want to know, so long as it’s within her limited knowledge? Maybe it’s not the best deal when she hardly knows about this place herself, like you. However, her offer makes you see more clearly how she could give you a chance to figure out more about this place. She can’t guarantee an answer to every question, but she’s your ticket to inching closer to the truth.

Of course…what will you do with what she tells you, provided she really is on your side and follows through with this? And who’s to say that you both won’t get in trouble and get killed?

Your hand balls some of the fabric of the sheets in its palm. This is horrendously risky. And the consequences of it if she’s lying or either of you slips up somehow are going to be far worse than just a sliced foot.

The image of The Overseer’s gun barrel pointed at you flashes in your mind, then, as does the dream of you being shot in the chest. It leaves you almost trembling. You don’t want to have to face that again, but things keep going wrong for you. Monica might be your ticket to desired knowledge, but also your ticket to a swift death.

As if reading your mind, Monica tries to give a comforting smile for you. “If one of us goes down for betraying him, we both will. So It’s in our best interest to be careful, and to keep pretending we’re just a doctor and a Number like normal. It shouldn’t be so hard, right?”

You look away. “And what about visits?”

“I might still want them.” Monica’s hand reaches over to cusp the back of yours. “I want the gratification. The satisfaction. The intimacy. But I will try to be kind as always.”

She giggles lightly. “Besides, if we want to talk in private like this, I can’t exactly be frivolous with visits, can I? It’ll make us talking that much more obvious. We have to be sparse with it. And, since sometimes you can hear behind these doors, we should keep our voices down.”

You glance at the door and glower. If the Numbers have sometimes heard the gate opening from another room, it’s possible that Monica isn’t wrong about this statement. You probably shouldn’t have raised your voice, then.

Monica’s slightly chipper attitude doesn’t sit well with you either—is she just acting for the sake of easing the conversation, or does the idea of future visits tickle her fancy? She’s not entirely like Mom, but easily could be. You’d believe either option.

“Just promise me you won’t take it far,” you bid her. Turning your thought into words, you can only ask of her this one thing. “With any of my friends especially. Don’t become like Mom.”

Monica looks at you with a confused face. “Huh?”

“You hang around her so much that you might end up acting just like her,” you assert, scowling as you think of your own doctor. “You might sink away in this place too and start to let it take over you. It’s not just her who has before. But if you want me to play with you in exchange for information, fine. I at least have nothing to be afraid of with a woman. And you weren’t…awful…I suppose.”

Monica giggles again. “Ten, you’re so sweet. I’m glad we can confide in one another now. I promise I’ll try my best to help you.”

You lean back and sigh, arms folded and head tipped up toward the ceiling. “We’re not buddy-buddy just because of this, you know. I still don’t like your role in all this. I still don’t know if I trust you either.”

“But…!” The doctor looks genuinely disheartened at your denial of her.

“And if this is real, then I was right, wasn’t I?” You look over at the woman as she removes her hand from yours. “You’re a victim to this place too. Why did it bother you so much for me to call you that?”

Monica’s brows upturn, and she looks down at the mattress. “I didn’t want to be seen like that. I didn’t like how right you were. I don’t want to be helpless. But in the end that’s all I am. The only way I can put up with all this confusion is by accepting my position and just trying to make the best of it.”

You glower. That sounds suspicious as hell. Almost like someone told her to say this kind of thing so you’d believe it and give up too. You don’t like how similar to your situation this sounds. And her conclusion is no different than some of the other Numbers’ conclusions. They gave into this place for the sake of not suffering in it.

You don’t tell Monica about this, however, and let her keep talking. “Like you, I made friends. The other doctors don’t hate me, and some even really don’t mind me at all. Plus, it feels good to have the occasional release. I’m not horrible to anyone if I can help it. Maybe a little sly sometimes, like with Mamita. I like to play around, you know? But I just want to smile instead of stay miserable.”

You say nothing in response, drinking these words in. Not knowing how else to reach you, Monica stops talking and looks away.

How are you supposed to act in this situation? You’ve just been told something so horrid and yet there’s nothing you can really do about it. Not only that, but now you have to sit and wait to see whether you’ll face consequences for all this after all.

Maybe you should have nipped things in the bud by going silent after Monica said something. That was the only way you could have made it better, but things ended up escalating from there. Not like The Overseer would ever see things your way if he found out about this. And if he doesn’t act right away, he might later. That’s what frightens you more. Even now his words of warning sit in your head, ringing out in that stern voice of his. You desperately hope those the dreams you’ve been having since you returned weren’t premonitions of some kind. You couldn’t take it.

“What if we die?” You ask aloud, almost shakily. You hadn’t realized just how much your heart started beating just thinking about the consequences.

Monica looks over your way, a tinge of defeat in her eye. “I don’t know. We’d be free, maybe. I don’t want to die any more than you do, but I guess I’d feel better dying with someone, rather than alone. I know that must sound a bit strange.”

You can’t help but scoff a bit. “Oddly, no.”

You don’t want to die with a doctor of all people, but you don’t exactly disagree with Monica. Death is lonely. Every instance of it you’ve heard of and seen…it’s been so horribly lonely. You couldn’t hold Jay’s hand in death, and you had no word to spare to C1 when he was shot. They died alone and afraid. You’d hate to go like that too.

Just then, you hear your exam room door click, and both you and Monica give a sudden jump of surprise at the noise. You hardly have a chance to react, but Monica manages to react much quicker than you. So as not to raise suspicion, she immediately sits up and turns over you, hovering over your torso and leaning in for a kiss. You’re not exactly a fan of the approach, but suppose it’s effective enough a distraction. You, however, wind up blushing a bit as her heavy chest sags and rests atop yours.

“Time’s up, Monica,” your doctor’s voice calls sharply from the other end of the room. The woman hovering above you merely pulls away, letting a trail of saliva run from your lips and hers. Maybe she overdid the game of pretend, unless she wasn’t actually pretending to enjoy it. You’d much rather not think about it.

“Oh my!” Monica blushes and regains her old chipper attitude. Turning in the bed and sitting on her knees, she looks over at Yosuke with a well-played look of surprise in her brown eyes. “I lost track of the time again!”

Yosuke hardly looks pleased, his olive gaze piercing through the woman like arrows.

Following behind him are a few workers, who see not much of anything to be cleaned but the bed and counters. They move into the room, while Monica moves off the bed and picks up her clothes to redress in.

“You should be more careful with that,” Yosuke chides her. “In fact I expected you’d have stopped making those mistakes by now.”

“Sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes,” Monica giggles as she tugs down her tight shirt over her now- covered chest. She is utterly unbothered by Yosuke’s eyes wandering over her body as if in assessment. In fact, you’re absolutely certain by the cheeky, lipped smile she quietly makes to herself that she likes it.

You, however, cover your chest and curl up a bit, not wanting to be seen naked right now. Your knees press together, and your back arches forward as you hunch over yourself.

“Just be more prompt in the future,” is Yosuke’s only warning toward the behavior. He starts to walk toward the bed, his face softening when he catches your gaze. With one hand, he pets your head, while silently awaiting Monica to leave.

“Yosuke, your Number is so darling!” she tries to keep things light, laughing a bit as she compliments you. “You’re quite the lucky man.”

“I’d like to think so as well,” is your doctor’s brief response, though he does smile slightly at the compliment while letting his hand tenderly run through your hair. You avoid his gaze.

Monica gives a bit of an airy sigh. “Well, I do look forward to more visits in the future, but I guess I’ll wait my turn. Sorry again for the delay.”

“No trouble, Monica. Just don’t make it a habit. And especially don’t let me catch you so blatantly with her. I prefer not to see you so forwardly intimate with my Number.”

“Oh?” Monica giggles, fascinated by his possessive words. “I see. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

You look on at her worriedly, but she continues with her usual façade and gives you a brief, cheery wave goodbye before heading out. The workers, unable to do anything with the bed now, simply move onto the counter while Yosuke looks down at you and observes your body. He frowns a bit when he sees your chest.

Lowering his hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls your arms apart to better see each swollen breast. You can only look away.

“They’re very red,” he notes. “Do they hurt?”

“No,” you mumble. “Please, just take me to bed.”

Yosuke doesn’t much listen, instead letting his hands slide from your wrists down to your chest. Gently, he rubs at the swollen flesh and smiles a bit.

“How precious,” he notes. “She attended to them quite a bit, I wager. They’re even fuller than usual.”

Your hands grip his wrists, and you tug at them just a little. “Yosuke…”

You don’t like that Monica was right that he might enjoy seeing them fuller like this, but hope she was wrong that he’d even feed from them if you got pregnant. You find the idea repulsive knowing your doctor’s sick fascination with you.

“Hush, pet,” Yosuke urges as he gives your tits one last rub with a swipe of his thumbs. “I only wanted to feel a little. We’re going now.”

He slowly slides his hands away, letting you go. Once done, he takes his coat off and wraps it around your nude body, enveloping you in the white fabric.

Gently, you’re carried away from the exam room and to the shower, your head leaned against Yosuke’s chest all the while you cross the hall. While in the shower, you remain seated on the floor and quietly let Yosuke bathe you. The warm water washes away all the wetness between your legs, and all the sweat and saliva drummed up from your visit. You remain limp as ever, letting Yosuke touch and clean you. Much to your displeasure, he takes extra care to fondle your breasts further with the guise of attempting to clean them carefully. You know the man well enough to see his perverse fascination with the things, but let this happen nonetheless. So long as he doesn’t start fucking you when you’re sore, you suppose this is bearable.

He shuts the water off once you’ve made it through another uncomfortable shower. Pleased with your compliance, Yosuke cups your chin and kisses you sweetly, giving nothing more than a darling “good girl” in response to the obedience.

“How was she, anyway?” He asks once he starts to dress you near the entrance. “Not harmful, I hope.”

“Fine,” you admit. You’ve nothing to hide about her fascinations or her treatment of you. Only the words you exchanged with the woman are under lock and key behind your lips .You half expected to look scared while exiting the room, but you were able to stay fairly straight-faced about the entire ordeal so as to keep any suspicion away from any wandering eyes behind the cameras.

“I suppose Monica’s fascinations do lend to a rather alluring side effect,” he notes while his olive eyes fixate on your chest from behind the cloth of your gown. He gently starts to comb through your wet hair to even it out. “Granted, I’m not much fond of catching her like that with you, but I suppose I’m a little relieved she wasn’t a man. I might have been far more upset if it were one of the others.”

You find it odd that he’s deeming the woman mostly harmless. In fact, most everyone seems to see Monica as a threatless person when she is one of the only people in this place next to Gale who has willed herself to lend you information. She’s dangerous to this place for that reason, but nobody seems to care. Provided she is on your side, she’s practically a weapon because of it. Even Gale isn’t willing to tell you certain things. Gale has an attachment to The Overseer that Monica might not share.

“Ten,” Yosuke speaks up when you’ve been silent for too long. You merely give a tired “hm?” in response, leading your doctor to frown. “You’re due for a shot soon.”

Your lips part as you look on with slight surprise. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“I’m not exactly happy they didn’t bother with it while you were confined. They hardly follow their own rules sometimes. But I find it odd given that my superior’s so well-scheduled about things like that. Of course, I’m in no position to question it.”

You lower a brow. “Why does it bother you? You get to watch over me like last time. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Yosuke remains straight faced as he pauses his combing to touch your cheek. “It’s not up to me this time, unfortunately. I’d be far more chipper if it were.”

“What?” You recoil a bit in the uncertainty. “What are you talking about? Who, then?”

“I wasn’t told,” is your doctor’s dry response. “Lucius merely delivered a message about it. I don’t know precisely when it will be, either. I just know they want it done soon.”

He slides his hand down your cheek and off it. “I’m as worried about it as you are, dear. But I promise I’ll take care of you if you get hurt. You know I will.”

“He’s just doing it to torment me,” you mutter in annoyance. “He hates me.”

Yosuke tilts his head a bit. “My superior? I doubt he does. You’d already be dead if he did.”

“Unless he needs me.” Maybe the remark was more a muse over Monica than you. The woman was convinced she wasn’t important, but if The Overseer is using her for his experiments in some way, and she isn’t an expendable prisoner, doesn’t he need her then? Experimenting on a doctor must be a rare occurrence, so you see no reason why he’d want to throw her away. In any case, it’s not a remark you take back or immediately apologize for. It sounds harmless, like you’re just bitter, doesn’t it? It’s hardly suspicious, though it does take Yosuke aback a bit. He looks on at you with slight confusion.

“Do you think he needs you?”

“I guess not,” you shake your head and lean your back against the wall while Yosuke continues to comb out your hair. “Anyway, I’ll just deal with the shot and move on. There’s not much else I can do.”

“You seem upset, darling,” Yosuke notes rather poignantly. “Moreso than usual. Is something wrong?”

“I’m just frustrated by a lot lately. When aren’t I?” This isn’t at all a lie. Yosuke has no reason to take issue with such a vague statement.

Still, the doctor can’t help but chuckle a bit and drop your comb. He runs his fingers sweetly under your chin and leans in for a dear kiss. “You are precious when you give that look, but I won’t have you fussing all the way to bed. You’ll have bad dreams if you sleep in a bad mood. If you like, I’ll give you a bit of medicine for your aches. That might help you a little.”

You’re not inclined to accept a drug from this man so readily, but the promise of relief from the soreness in your cunt and the stinging in your foot are too alluring. You give a childish nod for your doctor, which he responds to with a darling smile.

Once you’ve been cleaned up, your doctor scoops you up again in his arms and takes you to your room, where he wastes no time in tucking you into bed. For just a moment, he excuses himself to go get you some medicine, so you merely sit up in wait, taking in the quiet now around you.

Today started off so uncomfortably with the chat you had with Yosuke, but things seemed to go well after. How it all spiraled into this mess is beyond you, but by this point it seems like everything always goes wrong one way or another.

Your palms press to your forehead, and your fingers frustratingly grip at your scalp as everything sinks in. You have to juggle so goddamn much in this place that it’s exhausting. Were you better off just having your memory wiped? But no, you want to find out more. Even with the fear you have of death, and with the acceptance that it will eventually come, you keep fighting, and you don’t understand why. You keep telling yourself to let go and take a step back, and then you keep fucking up anyway. How obnoxious.

Handling Yosuke is possible, and handling your friends is easy. Monica merely presents another obstacle for you that you can’t completely dismiss until you’re certain no consequence will come from this discussion you had.

Her visit was so strange and out of place. She had eventually driven herself to the same lusty behaviors most doctors exhibit, but at first, it felt….different. And then everything surrounding her just cracked open in that one moment after she explored your body—it wasn’t at all what you expected, and certainly not what she expected. She probably just wanted some relief and got far more than she bargained for.

Even now you still have your doubts. She’s a doctor, and she still likes to use these prisoners. But who is she? Why is she here? Is she telling the truth? And if she is, why is she confined to this place? Why would The Overseer do this to her?

Though her loyalties are still in question, you suppose her being dosed with Mnemosyne makes more sense than it doesn’t, as you’d thought before. Even with her specific memory issues and how selective they are being uncharacteristic of the drug you know now, it’s still too possible that she was drugged.

Mnemosyne would explain her gaps in memory, her inability to answer basic questions about her life, or at least inability to answer them thoroughly. Monica kept saying she struggled to remember small things like all the files of all the Numbers, where those files go, and many other small things surrounding the facility that seems like common knowledge to other doctors. Mnemosyne would explain why she feels so out of place, so confused, so flustered. It would explain so much.

Furthermore, if she worked here once before and Mnemosyne took that memory away, then it would explain why she knows the nurses by title, and why they were so attendant to her and knew just what to get for her without question. They knew her. Either she’s playing a long-con and is secretly in a position of power and lying to you about it, or she really has been changed by Mnemosyne.

But this also all depends on whether what she said was true too. You know she’s a good liar based on how she can get around others. She’s lied to Mom, she’s lied to Yosuke, and she certainly has lied to you. You don’t really know what to believe. All you can do is wait. You’ve said it so many times in your head by now, but that’s all that there is to be said.

What an agonizing thing. And what if you are in danger? You can’t tell your friends. You can’t tell anyone. Whether or not all this is real hardly matters—if The Overseer catches you talking about it openly, even if it’s all fake, he’ll still come after you for conspiring against him or endangering his work or whatever the fuck else it is he doesn’t want you to do.

Your head picks up the moment you feel a wetness on the balls of your palm, and looking down reveals the glistening remnants of tears that had begun to spill out of you. Why are you crying again? You don’t even know if you’re angry or sad, or an amalgamation of both. All you know is that you can’t afford to keep doing this to yourself, yet you constantly do anyway.

Angrily, you try to wipe away any evidence of tears once you hear your room door open, but it’s pointless to pretend you’re not crying. Yosuke hardly has to look at you to know what happened. He says nothing, and merely places two pills and a glass of milk on your desk, then returns to you and tries his best to comfort you.

“It’s alright,” he croons. “Dear, don’t cry. Are you upset about the visits? About the shot?”

“I’m just scared,” you croak, still trying to stop your tears. “I’m always scared.”

You hate doing this around Yosuke. He likes to see you this weak, even if he pretends to act like he cares. He likes when you depend on him.

Yosuke kisses the top of your head and brings a hand to your wrist to gently tug your fists away from your wet face. Once he has you, his hand slips up to yours, and cups your palm sweetly. “Don’t worry, pet. I’m here.”

You don’t bother fighting it and just let the man hold your hand and lean the side of your head against his stomach. His fingers gently massage the side of your scalp as he holds you. Your eyes stay down, and only after a long quiet are you able to stop crying. Once Yosuke sees that you’re stable again, he briefly retreats to the desk to grab the things he brought, then slips the small glass of milk into your palm. You cup it instinctively, but eye the white liquid with contempt after tonight’s visit.

“Open your mouth, darling,” you’re instructed, and you do no more than comply. Your tongue sticks out so that Yosuke can place two white pills on it, and the man simply stands and pats your head as you gulp down the milk and swallow the medicine.

“Good girl.” Yosuke gives a sweet smile as you wipe your mouth, though he does not leave just yet. “Don’t fret so much, dear. It’ll all be alright. Just rest up for tonight. I’m sure you’ll feel much better in the morning.”

You stay quiet and look down at the bed while Yosuke keeps stroking your hair with a tender touch, the empty glass now carried by his other hand.

“I should go,” he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead before dropping his hand entirely from you.

With him away from your side, you look over at your desk and the small stack of craft items still on it. For a moment, your eyes catch the drawer of the desk. You start to wonder if Gale still has Yosuke check your journal when you hardly touch it.

“Yosuke?” You speak up, prompting your doctor to turn on his way to the door and give a curious hum. “Do I have a visit tomorrow?”

“Not in the morning, pet,” your doctor assures you. “So don’t worry. As for the evening, someone did ask. But it won’t be a difficult visit. And I’m sure by tomorrow, your body will have healed further. You do feel a little better after resting today, don’t you?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “So I’ll be okay?”

“Yes, dear.” Yosuke then chuckles. “Get some sleep already. Goodnight.”

He pauses a moment, and you know he’s expecting you to keep acting like his precious pet. So, you do nothing more than give him a quiet “goodnight” in return, though not once do you lift your eyes to see him off.

Tomorrow will hopefully be less challenging, then. You’re bound to continue being tormented in this place in horrible ways, but a break from rough sex and emotional turmoil might be nice. You can hardly predict this place, though, even with its horrid cycle of visits and stress.

Laying back in bed, you bundle up in your comforter and nuzzle gently against your pillow. You’d like to forget this place in slumber. Whether you will is a gamble, but with the pills slowly starting to work enough to alleviate your pain—you’re relieved to know that Yosuke gave you what he promised—and with your body sinking into the cool of your sheets, you’re a little more contented.

Crying tired you out anyway. If only you hadn’t, but maybe it’s better to let things out while you still can.

The future is uncertain. Horrifying, even. But as you slip into a quiet sleep, you will yourself to forget that fact for just a moment.

Chapter 78: Rest Thirty Two - Revitalize

Again, you dream of a white-walled maze prison.

You blink and see nothing but bright white, and feel your cheek, stomach, and chest pressed against the cold smooth surface of the ground. You don’t quite remember why at the moment in your bewilderment at being transported into this place, but the unsettling, familiar gut feeling is unmistakable—You don’t want to be here.

The walls of the maze that show before you as your body shifts up leave a cold impression in your heart. After contemplating it a moment, you’re able to gather that this is a dream, and one you’ve had already. Your eyes shut as you’re on your knees, hands pressed against the floor. Strands of hair brush against your cheeks as they’re pulled down by the gravity beneath your hung head.

You’re tired of this scenery. White walls, white ceiling, white prison. You want something else.

Anything.

Your imagination is not as limitless as you’d like, unfortunately. All you can muster willfully is some other place you remember seeing in slumber before.

With eyes slowly opening, the white beneath your palms is now a healthy deep green, and the cold has been replaced with warmth. Lifting your hands now to examine them leaves a prickling sensation, and in your flesh are imprints of the grass that has suddenly appeared beneath you.

Why here? You didn’t want this either.

Your head tips up now, and your back straightens. The sky above is as orange as last time, with nothing much having changed. You can’t help but stare at it for a moment, throat lumped up as it suddenly becomes cumbersome to swallow.

There’s got to be something you’re missing. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? Not just in a dream. This has to be more than that.

You stand and hobble around while clutching the bushy maze walls. You recall that this is how you found something new last time, and hope again that you might obtain answers of some kind by finding the ballroom again. Hell, even the place you first found would be something.

Unfortunately, no matter where you go, no turned corner leads to an exit. You can’t even manage to find the white structure and table you found once before. It isn’t much clear how long you walk for, but if this is a dream, does time really matter?

With no exit in sight, you grow frustrated and decide to turn and grip the bushy walls with both hands. At first, you tug at it in utter annoyance, huffing at your inability to find anything at all. But strangely, you can feel that there’s some strength to these bushes that you’re sure plants like these don’t have. Even so, upon looking up at the top of the towering green wall, you waste no time in deciding to try climbing it. There must be an answer up there, right? You could survey much more of this place from above.

Unfortunately, you can’t much make it far up the wall before it suddenly looks and feels as if it’s twenty feet tall. Your arms soon give out, leaving you to fall down upon the grass again. With your head hitting the ground, your eyes temporarily shut at the shock of the impact, but they open once it’s all over. You half expect to be met with the white maze again, but it seems you’ve managed to keep the scene affixed to the garden.

However, there’s something else…

Your eyes widen at the sight of a strange arched path quite a few feet behind your head. Immediately, you let out a light gasp at the sudden emergence of the thing and roll your body around to try pushing it off the ground again. Once you’re up, you can much more clearly see the slight arch connecting the two bushy maze walls beside you. From here, the pathway leads immediately to what looks like a hidden area surrounded closely by the walls of the maze.

It’s not a very large place from what you can tell. There’s not much you can see of the nook’s side walls when stepping closer to the entrance other than the corner of a stone bench that’s placed on the right side of the area. However, it’s the center of the nook that grabs your attention. In the middle of it lies a circular stone fountain with running water, one surrounded by a round flat stone border enclosing a patch of dirt and grass. What strikes you most is that the interior of the circle is dotted with…rosebushes?

Your feet stop moving as your eyes graze the sight of such beautiful pinkish roses scattered along the bushes there. You can’t drum up a reason why, but it strikes you in a strange way.

Perhaps the tiny nook itself looks simple, like a small hideaway for the weary to rest a moment, but it’s a beautiful kind of simple. The sight of it takes you aback, but you hardly hesitate in your want to explore it. However, when your feet finally decide to move again, you can only muster one step forward before the soft crunch of grass can be heard from behind you.

Your heart jumps, and the moment the noise is heard, you blink. As if in an instant, you’re lying back in your bed, completely stiff with your back to the mattress and palms gripping the sheets.

Your eyes remain wide as you attempt to assess what you just saw, gaze focused intently on the ceiling above your body. Are you still asleep? Awake? You can’t tell until you try pinching your hand and feel nothing but a light stinging pain.

Realizing that you’re awake, you let out a relieved exhale. For some reason, hearing just that one step in your dream left you so frazzled. You’re nervous for absolutely no reason.

Once everything is over, you sit up slowly on the bed and hold your forehead in one palm, eyes shut as you try to make sense of the dream. You must have seen these images somewhere, but trying to think too hard about whether you know them only invites the horrible static in your head, so much so that you become dizzy just a moment before it ends.

At least this dream wasn’t horrible, you think, a wave of displeasure washing over you as the memory of your other recent dreams comes to mind. However, it’s infuriating that you can be aware you’re dreaming and even change your surroundings to some degree still without being in full control of it all. You want to know what the hell is in that place and why, but it’s always so mysterious. Once, you’d have assumed it was just an amalgamation of images you’ve seen in books or movies before, but you’re starting to become convinced it’s an unreachable memory. You don’t know what the hell happened in that garden or what it is to you, but you must have been there before. Probably even the ballroom too. You just don’t know why. Your only assumption to go off of based on everything you’ve remembered or seen suddenly out of random is that maybe it has something to do with a wedding.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? You must have been at a wedding. Why you dreamt of one with Yosuke baffles you. First, you were marrying him, then you saw him dancing with Mom while The Overseer and Lucius watched intently.

Lucius…

You shake your head. You don’t even want to think about being aimed at by a gun after yesterday.

Upon managing to come down from the surprise of being intruded in your dream by some other presence, it becomes apparent that you’re alone in the room, and that Yosuke has yet to arrive. Though you might be better off trying to sleep longer, you’re hardly tired now.

Instead, you remain in the bed and mull over yesterday’s events now that they’ve been swept into your mind. The ordeal with Monica was frightening and unusual, to say the least. You still can’t decide whether she’s trustworthy, but even if she is telling the truth about not remembering certain things, you still couldn’t fully accept her knowing that she still intends to use you and your friends. It’s not unlike your standing with Gale, really. The only good thing is that you have little to fear from both of them as individuals.

But now you wonder: is Monica the only one who doesn’t remember things about her life? You can’t gauge that based on interaction alone when there’s several doctors here you haven’t talked to. People like Sven, Jude, and Micah are just visitors and no more. The only ones you’ve really chatted even a little with are Gale, Monica, Yosuke, and Mom.

It’s the latter that concerns you most. Mom’s a sex-addicted woman who finds joy in this facility despite all the abuse. She strikes you as disillusioned, or just crazy. But if Mom and Monica are similar, you wonder if Mom has her own grievous moments too. You’ve never really seen her sad about anything. She’s always just been so chipper.

Everyone here must have their own secrets. Not just about who they are, but who they are in this facility specifically. It’s not just the fact that they deal with chemicals and paper-pushing, but you want to know what all their roles are in this and who everyone is to The Overseer. It’s clear to you he has a history with several of his employees.

Moreover, you want to know what the hell is going on outside, and what The Overseer is doing aboveground. Whether you can try to get answers out of Monica remains to be seen. You’re still very afraid of being caught, punished, or killed over the brief conversation yesterday, but if Monica is truly intending to tell you what she can, then…

Is it worth trying? If you’re in this deep already, then shouldn’t you just keep going anyway? A part of you wants to stop, but a part of you refuses to. You’re much too stubborn about the want to know to fully surrender to the discomfort of not knowing. You know it’s important to let go, but even telling yourself that over and over never changes who you really are. Your only will to obey comes from fear. Lucius was certainly right about obedience that way.

You let out a tired sigh. You’re just glad you didn’t wake up with a gun to your face. How long will it be until you do? Even if Monica’s word can be trusted, The Overseer could well still find out about you talking to her about these things.

In the hopes of shaking your mind from the frustration, you glimpse the supplies still on your desk, and decide to mess around with them until Yosuke comes for you. Your body is hardly as sore and tired as yesterday, though the scars on your foot remain when you check for them. Testing it out, you press your foot against the floor. It only stings once you put a lot of pressure on it, but this is probably a good sign that you’re healing well.

Hopping over a few feet to your desk feels odd, but it’s hardly an issue. And any bit of respite from your doctor’s coddling is worthwhile when you don’t often get a chance to be alone in here. While you much prefer to be with your family, you suppose Eight isn’t wrong to find comfort in the quiet of voluntary solitude. When it’s not because of imprisonment, you don’t much mind it now and then.

You manage to pull yourself out of bed, leaning hard against the wall to hop your way over to the desk. Once seated there, you fiddle with the paper pad, opting to scribble meaningless lines and curves. Only when your mind wanders to the events before Monica’s visit do you longingly wish to have partaken in dressing up with the other girls. There were reservations to be had about it in the moment, and now you feel as though something memorable was missed. Even if it was such a small thing, it’d have been nice to play around. You just haven’t felt that chipper lately.

Perhaps playing dress-up with the girls isn’t an option for right now, but you can always draw a dress for yourself if you want. Maybe something nice that you draw for you, not for anyone else.

You sigh knowing that Yosuke will see whatever gets drawn and comment on it, but for now, you’re fine with doing this for you. Of course, you’re hardly a designer, but you still give it a shot anyway. After tapping your pen to the page for a while in thought, you eventually decide to start with making a human figure of some kind. Capturing your shape isn’t exactly easy, but you manage to make a body nonetheless, if with several scribbly lines. Once that’s done, you work on the torso. A part of you wants to be more modest and draw something with sleeves, but you can’t help but like the freedom of something more open. You’ve worn quite a few beautiful garments already, and haven’t hated the things in themselves, merely the situations around them.

You scribble out a sleeveless dress, opting to cover your paper-self’s chest with a trim neckline. You’re not exactly imaginative when it comes to decoration and design, but this simple start isn’t so unappealing in your eyes. Pondering what to do with the bottom half of the dress, you decide to imagine a cinched waistline and a long skirt. It looks sort of basic when you finish attempting to add wrinkles and folds in the skirt, but adequate enough to get your point across.

Before you bother to color it, you decide to take a crack at a much shorter dress as well. Since you pressed rather hard for the body outline, its imprint is visible on the next page of the paper pad, and you use that to trace another body. Cleaner this time.

Your first instinct is to draw a dress with sleeves, but you wind up pausing in the midst of putting your pen to the chest of the body. You’re only reminded of the dress Yosuke used you in, making your mood a bit sour. And that thought only reminds you of the shot. Back then, you were said to be due for a shot. Now that you’re supposedly due for another, you direly hope Yosuke won’t pull the same bullshit he did before, especially since he won’t be the one overseeing you in slumber this time. He’s been a bit more behaved lately, but certainly still clingy and eager, as ever.

You sigh and lean your head in your hand, elbow pressed to the desk as you attempt to focus instead on the drawing. You don’t dislike short dresses for yourself. You wind up creating one with an open cut. Fuck it, even a dress not unlike the one you wore before, only sleeveless. You won’t be able to convey transparency in color with your lack of skill, but you have fun with it anyway. A beautiful dress with a wide skirt and lacy, slightly transparent veil of fabric over the chest. A bow on the side of the waist, just because you can.

You can’t help but smile once you’ve finished drawing out the thing. It’s not a bad dress at all. And even if your lines are messy and shapes basic, it’s enough to convey just what you imagine. Your next order of business is to use the colored pencils to attempt filling in the dresses you’ve drawn, but you aren’t sure what color to go with. Your eyes graze the pinkish pencils, knowing no other color at this point that fits you. But it’s not like pink is a bad color, right?

Even so, you decide to reserve that for the shorter dress. For the longer gown, you wind up settling on a lavender color, smiling as you think of your associated companion. You sort of wonder what Lav would look like in a dress.

The short-skirted dress gets colored a soft rose pink. You push aside the thought of your doctor and instead think of the roses you saw in your dream—such light things that looked beautiful against the healthy green bushes. You want to take that rosy color back for yourself.

Your artwork is hardly good, but agreeable. When you glance at it altogether and flip between both pages, you’re not too dissatisfied.

The short-lived respite from your doctor ends when the door to the room finally opens, and your caretaker emerges from it. You make a shoddy attempt at closing the paper pad, but you already know before it’s even closed that the effort is futile. It was instinct, more than anything.

Yosuke, ferrying your breakfast on a tray, simply chuckles as he approaches you and places the tray onto the desk, in front of you. He brushes aside the paper pad to do so, but eyes it nonetheless with a quiet smile.

“Good morning, my dear,” he greets kindly. “I’m surprised you’re up so early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say. Is that why? You’re not even sure yourself. You don’t feel unrested.

“More nightmares?”

“Just unsettling images,” is your only response. Yosuke frowns a bit, but picks up the paper pad.

“You can eat today, pet.” The allowance takes you aback. “You’ve been a good girl lately. I’ll allow it.”

“Really?” You chide yourself for sounding desperate and almost childish, but those words made you a little eager. The feedings have been manageable, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Yosuke gives a gentle nod and pets your head, though keeps hold of the pad in his other hand. You figure the only reason he’s letting you eat is so he can pry, but so be it. That’s a fair enough exchange.

“Just don’t take too long, alright?” He bids you. “I’ve a lot to take care of today.”

This garners no response from you other than a prompt picking up of the tray’s fork and consequent dining of some quiche dish. Being able to eat breakfast yourself is a tiny freedom, but one you severely missed.

Yosuke, meanwhile, flips open the paper pad’s cover and pauses as he observes your first drawing. You can’t much read his expression when you glance up between bites. It’s fairly blank, though his olive eyes do trail the garment drawing from what you can see.

His lack of response is uncomfortable, strangely. By now he’d have already made his little comments, but all Yosuke does is flip to the next page and quietly observe it. Only after a brief moment of assessment do his lips curve into a slight, private smile. One of his hands returns to the top of your head and moves to continue stroking you.

“You’d look beautiful in these,” he expresses softly, finally fulfilling your expectation. “What’s the occasion for this art of yours?”

“I just wanted to see what I could make,” you mumble between bites. “I had the opportunity to dress up yesterday and didn’t.”

“Oh? Why so?”

“Other than me being injured, you can probably guess why,” you remain embittered. Yosuke simply chuckles.

“Oh, pet. If you like, I can get you dresses like this. I’d simply have to have them made to your shape. Dressing our guests lavishly and with regular changes of different kinds of clothing is often more effort than necessary, but some of us like to go the extra mile sometimes for special occasions. You can ask our two thespians about that.”

“Those clothes wouldn’t be for me if you did that,” you respond dryly. “So, no. I drew those for me.”

“Mm?” Yosuke remains coy. “Well, most girls like to dress up that way. I’m sure even you have your fascinations with being so beautifully adorned.”

“Can’t say.”

“You mean you simply don’t want to.”

You take a bite of quiche and don’t respond. You started eating a bit fast just to get through this conversation, and by now the ample, but certainly hearty serving is nearly eaten. Yosuke quietly places the paper pad back on your desk corner and moves behind you.

You’re taken aback by his body hunching over yours, and his hand sliding down the underside of your arm until he can wrap it around your wrist in a calm grip. His lips touch your ear, his breath flowing down your neck. It makes you gasp and shiver, and you wind up dropping your fork entirely onto the plate with a loud clatter.

“A pretty bracelet around your wrist would be another thing to add,” Yosuke coos into your ear. His other hand reaches from behind your neck and glides along the underside of your chin, causing your head to turn away from his touch while being forced to tip up. “And perhaps something fine around your sweet neck.”

You let out a hushed moan as Yosuke’s warm lips meet your nape. He chuckles handsomely. “Surely you’d like that?”

Yosuke’s thumb swipes gently along the underside of your wrist in his hand. He does not let you answer, nor can you bring yourself to. “But of course I know how easy it is to overwhelm my precious pet with attention.”

He finally lets you go and stands back up, his hands now gently placing themselves on your shoulders while you attempt to recover from the flustering closeness. Yosuke chuckles as you shakily try to pick your fork back up again.

“I won’t go through the trouble if it upsets you,” he says suddenly. “And truly I would love nothing more than to spoil my darling, but I don’t think my superior would like me marking you with lavish things and making the other guests upset that they don’t get the same precious treatment.”

A material presence would merely brand your obsession. You scowl. The Overseer hardly needs another Richard on his hands. Especially not a much worse version of him. Perhaps your doctor knows to be a little more careful about it after messing up once without really knowing much about Jade and her doctor. He knows his boss is touchy about people’s attachments in general.

You go quiet and try to keep eating, but remain ever aware of Yosuke’s grip on you the entire time.

Your doctor hardly says another word after this, his face gently decorated with a private smile as he soon takes care of your grooming. The man’s likely relishing in the flustered reaction to your teasing he gave, but if it keeps him quiet, you’ll let him.

It’s not long before you’re taken to the hall again, still without the privilege of walking given your limitation. But when you ask upon getting closer to the office whether Yosuke wants Mom to see you two this way, his only answer is to heave a light sigh.

“I suppose I can’t get around it forever,” he says. “We’ll both have to endure her teases.”

You expect to see Monica when Yosuke rounds the corner and makes his presence known, but she’s absent from the office. A part of you slightly panics at this observation, such a jumpy state fostered by yesterday’s occurrences, but when Mom predictably emerges in Monica’s stead, she explains that the woman’s gone off for a visit. This assuages you only a little.

Not looking quite so reactive at this entire ordeal is difficult to say the least, given your tendency toward reactivity. But you have to put on a show for the cameras. Nothing has changed. Nothing should seem out of place. You act well for Yosuke, now you have to act well for The Overseer and his mercenary.

“How cute!” Mom giggles when she observes Yosuke ferrying you. “Does my little girl like having a big strong man carry her like a princess?”

You look away and, only for the sake of acknowledging the woman as she expects, mumble, “I don’t know, Mom.”

This hardly satisfies the bubbly blonde woman, who steps out of the office just to get closer to you. One of her hands reaches out, and with the pad of her finger, she bumps your nose.

“Silly girl!” She teases. “You can’t tell me you don’t like being Yosuke’s pretty little plaything. I’m sure your cutie doctor is having so much fun with you. Right, Yosuke?”

Your assigned caretaker frowns a bit. He hardly hides his displeasure at her pecking. “Mother, I see you’re as bold as ever.”

“Oh hush, now,” Mom giggles as she gives a casual wave of her hand. “I only poke at you because I care. But you’re always so rude and ignore me half the time! Now that’s just bad manners.”

She grins as she catches sight of your feet. “Well, speaking of bad manners, Yosuke—that dressing looks a little loose and worn. Have you changed it today?”

This takes your doctor aback. Even he glances over at your wrapped up foot in response, but only sighs through his nose after assessing his mistake. Mom grins, relishing in Yosuke’s bothered response.

“Yes, I suppose it did slip my mind,” he admits. Mom’s cocky smile hardly lets up.

“Distracted?” She questions coyly. “Why, that’s hardly like you.”

You don’t exactly disagree, and look up at your doctor with slight confusion. Yosuke’s never been that forgetful before. How odd.

“I can easily dress it now,” Yosuke reminds Mom rather firmly. “If you’ll open the gate.”

“Naughty doctor!” Mom laughs in response, making the kind of assumption about Yosuke’s intentions as you expect. “You just want to have a little fun with her in the infirmary, don’t you? Not like that bed is the most comfortable place to pound away on. But unfortunately, the room’s a bit occupied. You’ll have to share.”

Yosuke merely gives the woman a sour look, but this hardly deters her mood. Instead, it intrigues her, and she cups the underside of his jaw with a dainty touch.

“Now, now, cutie doctor.” Her voice softens. “I’ll do what you ask. No need to get all pouty with Mommy.”

Mom doesn’t let Yosuke answer, nor does he look like he really wants to. The woman instead temporarily leaves you two to go open the gate. But before you can be brought into the infirmary, she returns. Based on how Yosuke gives a light huff through his nose, he’s hardly happy about the tagging-along. But both he and you very much expect this kind of thing from Mom. And, naturally, she’s entertained by it all. Considering it must be boring to be stuck in the office, you see why she’s so chipper about bothering anyone who comes by. Especially you two, it seems.

“You know, I can take things from here,” she reminds the object of her amusement with a casual folding of her arms. “You are a busy man, after all.”

“Yes, I am,” Yosuke doesn’t fight that fact. He frowns then. “But I don’t want to leave her so suddenly with you.”

“Why not?” Mom huffs, offended by the comment. “Honestly! Don’t you trust Gale, at least? We’ll be together.”

Yosuke ponders this. “Gale? Yes, I do.”

Mom tilts her head in expectation of an answer, and Yosuke eventually gives in.

“Fine, then.”

The door to the infirmary then opens, and you’re brought into the room. On the bed is Six, laying on her back, eyes completely closed. Gale’s hovering over her thighs, slightly exposed as their Number’s gown has been partly raised. From what you can see, they’re rubbing in some kind of ointment on a rather deep bruise on Six’s inner thigh. They pause and turn to the door once they hear it open, then smile upon catching sight of you.

“Good morning,” Gale greets rather happily. Your heart beats just a bit faster upon seeing their face again after all this time. Last you met, Gale had been severely beaten by The Overseer. You’ve no clue how long it’s been since that time, but their face is fairly healed by now, aside from a few splotches of still-healing bruises around their eyes and cheeks that are darker than the rest of their skin.

“Good to see you, given you’ve been rather dodgy lately,” Yosuke seems a bit less annoyed now that his less disliked colleague is before him. Gale chuckles.

“Busy, more like. Same as always. I presume the same for you.”

Yosuke’s eyes wander to Six, though he says nothing.

“A little bruise here and there,” is the answer Gale gives without dropping their pleasant demeanor. “It’s no trouble. I did have to give Milos a bit of an earful, though.”

Your eyebrows lower at the mention of that man’s name, something Gale’s curious, icy eyes catch rather quickly. With their attention now on you, they give a kind nod.

“Glad to see you back, Ten,” they greet you gently. “I’ve heard you’ve been through a rough patch.”

“…Yeah,” is all you mumble in response. They aren’t really letting on their involvement in everything, so you see.

Mom, her green eyes glancing over at Gale’s face, gasps rather dramatically and brings a hand close to her mouth. “Oh my! Gale, your bruises are still showing!”

“Oh?” Gale brings a hand to their cheek. “Well, It’s no big deal.”

However, Mom starts to tsk and walks over to the white-haired doctor. With a pinch of their cheeks, she giggles. “Gale, come now! I thought I taught you to do your makeup much better than that. Do I have to do it for you all the time?”

“Momma!” Gale laughs while their hand instead cups the back of one of Mom’s. “Honestly, it’s nothing! I don’t much care either way.”

Mom laughs as Yosuke ignores the two’s conversation and takes you to a stool nearby one of the counters in the room. “You sweet thing! Alright, if you want it that way.”

“Ten, will you be alright with them for a moment?” Your doctor questions as he kneels by your foot and runs his thumb along the top of it, against your bandages. “I can take some extra time to deal with this even if I have to be a little more social, but it’s getting a bit crowded in here and I need to get going.”

“I guess,” is all you say before looking elsewhere. He sounds so concerned now, like a person, as if he wasn’t just creepily lording over you just a moment ago.

“Does it hurt?”

You mutter a simple “No”, which doesn’t wholly satisfy your doctor, but with his olive eyes flickering unpleasantly to Mom gushing over Gale, you can tell he’s not in the mood to stick around. Yosuke rises and prepares to leave, but like a hawk, Mom catches him.

“I hope we didn’t upset you,” she frowns. “Poor little Yosuke. I forget you’re such a serious man sometimes.”

“It might help if you took things seriously sometimes too,” is your doctor’s only response. Mom does not take offense to the comment and simply smiles at him.

“Don’t act like I didn’t once entertain you.”

“Now, now, there’s no need for a squabble,” Gale butts in from the other side of the room. Their attention has again turned to Six asleep on the bed, but they remain aware of the room’s tone nonetheless. “I’ll see you another time, Yosuke.”

Your doctor merely nods at them, not dignifying more words with Mom around. Once he’s gone, Mom puts both hands on her hips and huffs.

“Really, he’s so touchy sometimes.”

“Like me, he’s not the best with people,” Gale chuckles lightly. “I’m surprised he made it through college. Networking is the key these days.”

Mom smirks and curls a finger over her lips. “Well, that’s one way to call it.”

Once she turns to you, her pinkish lips open again so that she can speak, but Gale is the one who talks first.

“If you’d like to chase after him, you can,” they say. “I can handle these two girls myself.”

“Oh?” Mom raises a curious blonde brow. “But I won’t get to spend time with you. We don’t talk these days.”

“I’ve been busy,” is all Gale tells her. Not once do they look up from Six, as if taking their eyes off of her for one second could be costly. All they do is keep the ice bag pressed to the bruise.

Mom takes Yosuke’s previous place, deciding to do her job and tend to your foot as your doctor had wanted to. She starts to gather a fresh roll of gauze and some kind of disinfectant for your cut, then returns to your side to peel away the old bandages. Your eyes trail her every movement as she bends down and starts to work your foot. Her touch is gentle, thankfully. Her green eyes remain fixated on your fleshy pad as she undoes Yosuke’s previous work to make way for hers.

For just a moment, she can’t help but give an airy, girlish giggle and tickle your foot a bit. Your immediate reaction is to laugh, but you reach forward and beg her to stop. Mom watches your reaction with glee.

“Isn’t my pretty girl so darling when she smiles?”

Gale, temporarily turning their head a bit to look over at you two, smiles softly in turn. “They all usually are.”

“Mom, that’s enough!” You beg, still laughing instinctively. After having had her bit of fun, the blonde doctor does heed your begging and returns to her task with the same pinkish smile on her lips. Luckily, the ordeal hardly takes much longer, and soon your foot is fully dressed.

“It seems to be healing pretty well,” she notes. “I guess it’s good you’ve been off your feet, but you’ll have to stay off it just another day or so. Or, at the very least, not walk so much tomorrow.”

She looks up at your face and tilts her head. “And your cheek looks a lot better. My sweet Micah is so careless sometimes!”

“He’d probably hate to hear you talk like that about him behind his back,” Gale calls out from beside the bed. “Even if it is just a bit of fun.”

“Well that’s too bad,” Mom cheerfully remarks as she rubs a tiny bit of ointment on your cheek for good measure. “He’s a good boy when he wants to be, and I’m not going to hide that fact.”

“Just because he’s used to the emasculation doesn’t mean it’s his preference,” Gale notes casually. “You’re pretty stuck in your ways too, Momma.”

“Can’t help it!” Mom laughs, though you wonder if she’s purposefully ignoring the remark that’s mirroring Mom’s own words to Yosuke. Once done, she cleans her hands and puts everything back in its place, then looks up in thought.

“Hmm, speaking of boys, maybe I should have one of the Numbers come get our little princess.”

Gale again turns their head toward you both. “Our?”

“Well, she does belong to all of us, doesn’t she?” Mom questions. “We’re supposed to share our Numbers. Her cutie doctor sometimes forgets that fact.”

The white-haired Gale thinks on this a moment before turning back to Six. “I suppose that’s true. But you’re a little protective of yours too, aren’t you?”

Mom frowns, finally bothered by all the comparisons. “Well, I can’t help being particular. Don’t you try to play those mind games with me when you’re the same.”

Finally, Gale removes the ice pack from Six’s thigh and shakes it a bit. By now, the skin on your friend’s leg is quite red from the prolonged contact, and it’s likely why her doctor has opted to stop.

Gale turns to you both and smiles kindly. “Momma, I’m not playing games today. But you know me and how I like to be open about my observations.”

You nearly scoff. That’s a lie. There’s plenty they’ve kept in the dark even from their own coworkers.

Mom sighs and brings a hand to her cheek. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. You always get that way. I can’t wrap my own head around it sometimes.”

She then smiles and closes her eyes at some memory. “My, I do miss the days when you used to dress in prettier clothes. I thought you and I could have discussed such girlish things together.”

Gale glances away, their icy eyes shifting toward a cabinet. “It’s not a look that suits me anymore.”

As if catching their mistake, they immediately transition back to their casual demeanor. “Besides, what’s wrong with how I dress, Momma? I like it like this.”

Mom gives another set of tsks before smiling again. “Now who’s stuck in their ways?”

“I figured you’d have gotten used to that kind of trait after spending so much time with Yosuke.”

Despite the strange series of back-and-forth statements, both doctors can’t help but start to laugh. It’s odd to see them being so casual with one another. Though, both of them are doctors who you’ve seen get abused blatantly by The Overseer, or at least know get hurt by him so much. Mom’s mind is so far gone that she invites the frivolous abuse as if it were a game. But Gale? They seem disillusioned by their adoration of the man.

How cruel he is to people. He could throw either of these two out on the curb or worse tomorrow if he wanted, and yet they don't seem to care. They’re too attached to this place.

“I need you,” he’d said to Gale back then. You’re not entirely sure if that statement was empty, but you are sure that Gale does not mean to The Overseer anywhere near as much as Lucius does. Gale is just another employee whose service to their superior lends them the chance to live with more privileges than some doctors. That’s all it is.

Once the laughter eventually does settle, Mom again focuses on you and gives a coy little smile. “Well, Ten, do stay here a moment. I’ll go fetch a cutie boy to carry you somewhere.”

“You couldn’t do it?” You mutter. Mom laughs a bit and sweetly teases the underside of your chin with her thin fingers.

“My sweet girl, such handsome boys take advantage of us all the time,” she says, her eyes focusing intently on your uncertain face. “It’s only fair we take advantage of them now and then too.”

She says nothing more and leaves you temporarily with Gale, who by now has started to empty the ice bag in a small sink on one of the counters. Only once Mom has left do they comment on you.

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” they say. You simply sit on the stool and watch their back, not sure what to really answer with.

“Those two seem mismatched for one another, yet matched at the same time,” they go on while placing the ice bag upside down so that excess water can slowly drain out of it. “I find that interesting. But they have been in proximity quite often.”

“And yet Yosuke always denies that he’s a thing like her,” you mutter unhappily.

“Yes. He seems far more fascinated by the unattainable. You, I mean.”

“Tell me about it.”

You feel like asking Gale “how are you” would be a bad idea. Getting too friendly with a doctor could be trouble. Instead, you ask,

“Is it okay to be talking with me after what happened?”

“Yes,” is Gale’s simple response. They turn around and lean their backside against the edge of the counter, using their hands to steady their posture on its surface. “He knows well that we’ve talked. I’d assume he told you it was permissible to speak with me openly.”

“He did.”

“Then there’s hardly a problem. He’ll keep a close eye on me, certainly, but I’ve no reason to cross him as badly as I had in that moment. If things can be open between us, I have no reason to hide anything. I suppose he figured that out, and permitted us to speak knowing that.”

The Overseer had said Gale could still be useful to him. You don’t think they realize that he’s just seeing them as an asset in this case. Or if they do, Gale’s choosing to ignore it.

They glance over at their Number. “As for her, well, she’s still out. I know well her patterns of rest when drugged. She’ll be out for another half hour at least.”

You look over at Six as her chest steadily rises and falls. “I can’t ask you about anything important, though, right? About this place and about who we are?”

“Correct.”

“Can I at least ask about something regarding my friends and what’s been going on in the recreational areas lately?”

Gale raises a brow. “He usually says you shouldn’t if you have to ask.”

You sigh. The man is quite restrictive that way. “I only wanted to know if you’d heard our discussion yesterday.”

“Mm…” Gale ponders this a moment. “Yes. I did. What of it?”

“I know you can’t tell me what, but do you know what Six’s dream meant?”

Gale goes quiet for a moment and looks over at their Number with a slightly longing gaze. “I do. Most dreams have meaning. Not all, of course. But often, they come from things we experience—things pertaining to our senses. That’s as much as I’ll say.”

Your hands cup together in your lap, and your eyes wander down to the floor.

“New topic?”

“If you like.”

“Mom mentioned how you were before,” you say. “Your boss showed me the feeds, so I know how you looked back then.”

“If you mean to ask more about how I was, then it hardly matters.” Gale does not let you ask a specific question and simply gives a shrug of their shoulders. “I used to be a lot more traditionally feminine. I still like to dress like that now and then, but not as much.”

Strangely, their eyes fall to the floor too. “I left most of my old self behind for her. I think that’s for the best.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the door to the infirmary opens before you can get anything out. When your attention turns to it, you’re faced with Mom leading in her Number.

“Go on, sweet boy,” she urges with a girlish glee, hands pressed on both Cyrus’ shoulders. She leans into his ear and almost whispers. “You shouldn’t keep our precious little princess waiting.”

You and Cyrus both exchange worried glances, but your companion hardly waits to carry out his doctor’s order. He avoids Gale’s watchful eye, even when they give him a friendly smile. Both you and Cyrus know it’s hard to hide away from them when they read you so easily.

You try not to react to Cyrus taking you in his arms, but do steady yourself against his neck by wrapping your arm around him. Mom simply watches on with a reddened face and eager green eye, but Gale keeps their focus on Cyrus.

“You look well, One,” they greet him. “I do hope you continue taking care of yourself.”

“I’m trying,” is all the young man responds with. Before he can exit the room, Mom stops him and kisses his forehead while giving a little smile.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” she coos. “I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Tonight?” You whisper to Cyrus worriedly. Even he seems to have made the same jump in conclusions when his aqua eyes trail away. However, Gale overhears you despite the attempt at being quiet, and they chuckle.

“I should say the same thing to you, Ten,” they say in addition to Mom’s sendoff. “I do hope a visit with me will give you a break from all the rough patches.”

You almost want to breathe a sigh of relief. Even if Gale is still going to get satisfaction from your body, they at least take their time. Just like Monica, this won’t be as worrisome a visit. Though, they likely want to talk to you too. About what, you’re not sure.

How odd that Mom didn’t jump in for a visit immediately after Monica, though. You expected she would. Is she waiting for something? Or is she just preoccupied?

Like Yosuke earlier, Cyrus hardly wants to spend another moment in that room and doesn’t hesitate to take the break in conversation as a means to move forward. Neither of you look back as you exit the room, and thankfully, Mom doesn’t trail you both out to the hall.

“Hungry?” Cyrus asks, hoping to move on from the unpleasantness. You shake your head and frown.

“I ate before coming by. Mom really doesn’t let up, does she?”

Cyrus scoffs. “No. I wish you didn’t have to deal with her, but she teases certain people a lot. You can ask Eight.”

“I’d rather not,” you laugh a bit. However, Cyrus doesn’t act equally as amused at the remark and instead seems distant. “What’s up with you?”

“Is Six alright?” Cyrus temporarily ignores your question as he walks toward the cafeteria despite your denial of hunger. However, he won’t stop you from pecking. You pout a bit.

“She’s just sleeping after a visit with Milos. I’m sure she’ll be okay, but don’t dodge my question!”

“Look, I just got interrupted from a talk with Nine to come get you. I’m just still in a weird mood, that’s all.”

You look up at him with a bit of surprise. “You two finally got together?”

“Sort of,” he admits, stopping in front of the cafeteria doors. “We got here a while ago, so we had breakfast together and just sort of talked about a lot, kind of like how you and I did. We haven’t really gotten through everything, but…”

“But?”

“We’re still trying to figure things out. But we were able to get through the whole awkward ‘sorry I tried to fuck you when I was sad’ thing. That’s just one small part of it, anyway.”

You almost laugh. “That’s certainly a weird way to put it.”

“I know.” Even Cyrus finally smiles at the stupid phrasing. “I guess it isn’t the biggest deal in the end, but it’s really sort of brought up a lot of questions between us. it’s not really just that we’re talking out all the negative emotions we felt.”

“Then what?” You ask with lowered brows. “You’re acting all weird.”

“I just think maybe you should have a talk with us too.”

You blink a bit, taken aback by the remark. “You want me to talk to you?”

“…Is that okay?”

“Yeah, but why? Because we need to have a discussion, or because you guys need me to mediate?”

“Ten, you don’t need to mediate shit,” Cyrus gives a pitiful laugh. “You’re not responsible for everyone. You tell me that all the time, you should take your own advice too.”

“I think it’s less that I feel responsible and more that I end up in the middle of everything,” you joke. But when Cyrus stops looking so pleased, you wind up stammering apologetically. “It’s not your fault or anything! I just…!”

“I know,” he says when you trail off. Not wanting to risk Mom coming up behind him with how long he’s been standing still, he eventually commits to walking into the cafeteria. “I do sympathize with you, Ten. But I was in the middle of things once too, you know. Sometimes I still am. Other than all the terrible shit I had to witness, everyone in this group used to see me as a leader of some kind to a point that I had to put up with a lot from them too. But you already know that.”

“I sure do.” It’s both the slight experience of your own and the constant reminder of Cyrus’ immeasurable suffering that leads you to respond this way, with a bit of a sigh. Life in the facility is, to say the very least, unforgiving.

Once you’re brought closer to a table in the room, you’re met with Lav, who’s turned away from you and Cyrus. Once she hears you both speaking, she shifts her body a bit, letting one leg slip on the outside of the bench while the other remains under the table.

“Mom really didn’t do you guys any favors, huh?” She questions with a raise of her brow. “I was wondering why she was hassling Cyrus so much.”

“She didn’t say?” You scoff unpleasantly. Though, maybe that’s not surprising. Mom hardly interacted with Lav last time they were in each other’s presence. Maybe she doesn’t care to talk to her much. “She keeps making me feel like a child. She likes watching other men take care of me, I guess.”

“She has a preference for certain kinds of girls,” Cyrus chimes in while placing you down on the bench beside Lav. “She coddles everyone, but treats men and women a bit differently and tends to expect certain roles from both. Maybe she’s just playing around, but even I can’t totally tell. Mom’s just really weird about that kind of thing.”

Lav turns her body back toward the other side of the table while bringing her leg back underneath it. She leans an elbow on the flat thing and frowns. “Yeah, and that’s why she isn’t super fond of me. I take care of myself until a doctor makes me act the way they want. And even then, I resist them wherever I can. But unfortunately, some doctors like that lippy shit. They like a challenge. She doesn’t. Not in girls, anyway.”

“You’re sure better about it than I am.” Cyrus takes his place in front of you and Lav. The table itself is strewn with trays adorned with plates that are, by now, clean of food beyond a few stray bits of egg. There are a few bottles of water around as well, some of which are empty, others which are still being worked on by both Numbers. “I feel like I’ve gotten to a complete point of submission. Mostly, anyway.”

“Which is understandable,” Lav assures her friend as she mindlessly pokes at her down-pointed fork and watches it rock slightly back and forth on the plate. “I can’t imagine anyone would fight that woman hard after a few encounters with her. She is pretty scary.”

“I haven’t seen her genuinely upset in a while, and I sure the hell don’t want to,” is your only comment on the matter as you lean your elbows on the table like Lav. Rather than hold your head in your hand, you keep your arms folded. “I guess it depends on what happens. All I know is I’m not about to make her mad.”

You frown and look across the table at Cyrus. “By the way, have you been talking to Gale lately? They seemed pretty chipper when they saw you.”

Before Lav can ask, you catch sight of her raised brown brow and quickly explain why you brought the doctor up. She hardly comments on the fact that Gale was in the infirmary, but does at least ask if Six is doing okay.

“Gale’s seen me a few times,” is Cyrus’ answer to your question prior once the matter is explained. “But I hardly talked too much about what I’ve felt. I’m sure they gathered a lot just by the way I was acting, though. I think anyone would have known just what I was thinking by how down I was.”

Lav looks on at the young man with sympathy. “Hey, it was a rough time for you. One of many. Not like it’s a bad thing. This place is…pretty rough.”

“And yet I was surprised that it even brought you down,” Cyrus remarks as he lays his hand on the table. “You were still fairly fresh to the group, so you didn’t see a lot of the awful that happened other than maybe what might have gone on with the previous Ten. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced a lot of terrible things yourself. So, I was surprised it was this that chipped away at you so much.”

Lav looks down and frowns a bit. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, did I strike a nerve? I wasn’t trying to.”

“It’s more like I feel weird when I have those moments of vulnerability even when I know it’s a normal thing to have them,” your lavender companion admits, dropping her finger from the fork. “I don’t totally like being reminded of them all the time.”

“Well, even you have your moments of hesitation,” You comment. “I’d only ever seen you the way you present yourself, but I know now there’s much more to you than that.”

“We both do.” Cyrus nods.

Lav chuckles lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to try to cheer me up about it. Really. I just get that way sometimes, that’s all. But I’m starting to think maybe that’s why I felt so bad about what I did recently. I acted out in a low moment even though I’d always tried to keep others from doing the same. Can you imagine how much that messed with me?”

She sighs. “Hell, it’s not even just that. I did feel super guilty about it after we’d all just had a moment together.”

“But why?” You ask. “It’s not like we’re not allowed to. I feel like we’ve all kind of agreed messing around with whoever we want is okay.”

Lav’s amber eyes shift your way. “Well, no, it isn’t a problem…but I guess things felt different after we got together. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings if they happened to be…um…”

“Attached?” You guess with a lowered brow. “You think I’d have minded one bit?”

“We both were upset about it all for a lot of reasons,” Cyrus chimes in sheepishly. “We were both in a lot of pain, we felt guilty about taking advantage of each other’s low emotional state, and then we were both really worried about how you’d take it because we both sort of wanted to be considerate of how you felt about each of us.”

Lav smiles to herself. “Well, someone had to put it into words. All that talking and it boiled down to just a few sentences. I’m almost embarrassed.”

“In all fairness, I’ve struggled a lot about being concise about how I feel,” you try to be encouraging. “It’s not easy to just do things when you have so many doubts. I’m not surprised a lot of us struggle to be so emotionally open about specific things. But I’m glad you guys are able to work things out a little.”

Cyrus nods. “It does give me peace of mind on the one issue, among all the others I have. But something is better than nothing.”

“Hey, staying positive here is a difficult thing, but you’ve pulled through so far,” Lav attempts to be reassuring. “We’re all trying our best. Just remind yourself it’s okay to slip up now and then too. Can’t strive for perfection. And hell, that’s a lesson I still need to learn myself.”

You laugh a bit. “Feelings are weird. That’s just how it is.”

Cyrus flickers his aqua eyes over to you, but doesn’t much respond. After a brief moment, he hunches over on the table like Lav and rests his head atop his palm. “Feelings, huh?”

“Oh right…” Lav looks a little crestfallen at the topic herself now. “I guess it’s something we should sort of talk about now that you’re here, Ten.”

You blink. “Hm?”

“Cyrus and I both went over how this issue made us feel and why we struggled so much with it and with confronting each other about it.”

“We both felt like we made a mistake,” is Cyrus’ addition to the topic. “But then we sort of started to wonder just why we felt that way. Obviously it was the issue with you and with how bad an idea it was to let our high emotions get in the way of things. Plus, we were really worried it might impact the relationship with each other we already have. I really care about Nine, like I care about you. You both have become fairly close with me, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. But that’s sort of the thing…we aren’t sure how to take all this. We feel like maybe it’s a good idea to assess where we are together.”

“Together?” You repeat in question. “As in you two?”

“All three of us,” is Cyrus’ response. “Nine and I already sort of talked it out, but we want you to be a part of that conversation too, since it has a lot to do with you as well.”

“You mean about how we feel about one another?” You remain confused. “I like you both just fine. Is there a problem?”

Cyrus hesitates to say anything immediate, but Lav does not. “I think there’s some things that are sort of holding us back. We shouldn’t have struggled so much to be honest with one another about a mistake if we’re really that close. Cyrus and I both think there’s some issues that might be keeping us from being that way.”

You look over at the blue-shirted young man and frown. “What issues? I don’t understand.”

“Ten, we’re all sort of fucked up,” he mutters without exactly looking your way. “I think that it’s messing with a lot between us. I don’t like that I keep hesitating when there’s problems. In fact, a lot of my problem comes from myself and the way I feel like I’m struggling to be so open. There’s still a lot I’m not sure about, and a lot that I can’t manage so easily. I want to be better about that.”

“And I have my own junk to work on too,” Lav nods. I’ll be honest, I struggle to understand why people don’t just do things until I hit that point myself. But when I do, instead of being so understanding, I get frustrated. Maybe a little distant. I know I seem like I’m pretty well grounded, but I am pretty much a mess because of this awful place. Same as anyone else, just maybe in a different way.”

She shakes her head. “And really, it’s not just that, but I also move forward much quicker than other people do. I know how I feel, and I know what I want. I guess because of that, maybe I’ve left you a bit overwhelmed about some things.”

You’re taken aback. “I mean…the only time I can think that you overwhelmed me was back when we first, um…”

“Got intimate,” Lav finishes for you with a quiet smile. “I know. And even though I really wanted it, I do feel kind of bad that I pushed that on you. I didn’t really even think twice about it until later on. But in the end, I just wanted to be there for you. After that time we got together, and after this whole issue with Cyrus, I started to wonder just how I felt about everything. I started to reflect, when I usually never do. I’ve always been the type to move forward. But when I look back at how I treated you, I think I was a little pushy.”

“You’re just barely bringing that day up now?” You blurt out in uncertainty of what to respond with. Lav frowns, as if hurt.

“So you did feel pressured?”

“Well, you came on kind of strong, but I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t dislike being with you,” is all you say in the hopes of comforting her. Now’s not the time to fumble over your words. “Nine, you’re important to me. I think what we had started off pretty rocky, but I don’t regret any of it.”

This apparently satisfies the girl, who almost breathes a sigh of relief. You then look over at the young man across from you. “I guess while we’re on the subject of criticism, you’re practically the opposite of Nine. Like you said, you hesitate too much.”

Cyrus awkwardly flickers his eyes elsewhere in embarrassment at being told this outright, though he doesn’t refute your remark either.

“You’re afraid of being hurt, I guess,” you add observantly. “And you and I are a lot alike that way—neither of us wants to face the consequences of our actions, or see the outcomes we assume are going to be negative, even when sometimes holding back or running away only makes it worse.”

You feel naked uttering these words, especially after yesterday’s events with Monica, and especially under the watchful eye of The Overseer. You’re left with this uneasy pit in your stomach as a result.. It’s hard to predict what might happen after all this. You’ve just got to wait until Monica can visit you again. Maybe at that point, you’ll have a little more peace of mind.

But it’s not something you want to focus on now that you’re with those you love. Especially not now that they seem eager to sort things out. It’s not how you expected today to start, truly.

“We’re always afraid that things can go wrong,” you go on. “Though we come to that conclusion through different means. Maybe that’s why you and I get along so much easier than we do with other people. Even from the beginning, I remember it being pretty easy to talk to you.”

“And that only leads me to wonder if I’m intruding on whatever it is you guys have,” Lav expresses openly. “I felt pretty bad about butting in on your time when I did, and being upset over something I shouldn’t have. I was so happy after everything had happened since it felt like we smoothed a lot over, but I realized I might have come across as whiny when that’s not what I wanted to be. I guess it’s a bitter sounding thing to say, but I don’t mean it in a bitter way. More than anything, I want you guys to have an idea of what you want, and go for it. I don’t want to hold onto something if it isn’t for me to hold.”

“But if we don’t know what we want, then we can’t make a decision,” Cyrus mumbles unhappily. His words don’t sound much different than the excuse he gave you once. His words to you that day still ring strong in your mind, but Cyrus doesn’t seem to know how to place his love for you. Lav, however, shakes her head at the young man’s sorrowful words.

“I think you guys have a pretty good idea of what you want, you just can’t bring yourselves to say it outright yet.” She then smiles. “And that’s okay, you know? I need to learn to take more time with others. Just because I move pretty fast doesn’t mean you have to match my pace. If you need time to think things through, then take it.”

“Nine…” Cyrus sighs. “You’re just excluding yourself by talking that way. You mean a lot to me for reasons different than Ten does. I enjoy talking with you, spending time with you—I don’t regret any time we’ve hung around together. Just because I treat Ten a little different doesn’t mean I would exclude you from any affection I have to give. It just might not be entirely the same. Different doesn’t mean lesser.”

Lav’s lips part, but she doesn’t much know how to respond to these words. However, her hand drops from her head, and she lays it back on the table.

“You’re important to me,” Cyrus tells her honestly. “It’s part of why I felt so guilty about what we did. I didn’t like the idea of hurting you or Ten. Or even myself, really. That’s not selfish, I hope.”

Despite freezing a bit just prior, Cyrus’ last remark makes Lav breath of disbelief. “Cyrus! Of course not!”

Her hand reaches over to grasp his. “You’re too hard on yourself. You and Ten both. But when you do things for yourselves, it makes me really happy. When you say ‘I want this’ or ‘I need this’ without question, without hesitation, I feel proud of you. It’s just that right now, you’re still figuring out what it is you want, right?”

“I think so,” Cyrus blushes a bit and glances down. “I don’t know, this recent blow really hit deep. I’m still kind of frazzled by it. But I do know that I don’t want to stay like this forever. Every moment I suffer, I want only to climb out of the hole I fell in. Even when I sometimes give up just a little.”

“Nobody here will let you give up,” you assure him with a shake of your head. “Don’t think for a minute we’re going to leave you behind just because you’re struggling.”

“I mean, we tend to give other people their space when they need it, but maybe I should be a little pushier about lifting you guys up,” Lav laughs. Cyrus smiles to himself and starts to joke.

“I’d probably get so annoyed that you won’t let me be sad, that I’ll stop feeling that way.”

“Oh, I’m annoying now?” Lav playfully chides the young man, leaving him to chuckle.

“Totally. I think I just put up with you more than anything.”

“Them’s fighting words, partner,” Lav retracts her hand from Cyrus and playfully reaches over to nudge his shoulder with her fist. “But really, I’m glad we talked. Evidently, we still gotta work on things, but I guess taking it step by step is a good way to start.”

“And I’m glad you’re smiling again,” you tell Cyrus with a smile of your own. “I missed seeing you happy.”

Cyrus brings a hand slightly over his mouth as if taken aback by the remark. “Have I not smiled?”

“No, you haven’t,” Lav’s playful demeanor lessens, though she remains soft with him. “I’m sure you really needed to.”

The young man across from you soon drops his hand back to the table, and he takes a quiet moment to assess himself. “I…guess that prepares me for later. I wanted to come back to the group.”

“And we’ll welcome you with open arms,” you assure him, prompting Cyrus’ aqua eyes to shift your way. He goes quiet again, but does eventually give you a gentle nod.

“So…as far as all the feelings stuff is concerned,” Lav eventually refocuses the topic. “We obviously have a lot to work on before we know for sure how we feel. But…we do at least feel something, right?”

You and Cyrus exchange glances before looking over at a rather uncertain Lav. Her amber eyes keep their focus between the both of you as she awaits an honest answer.

Cyrus pauses, his gaze then affixed to the table as he tries to run through his thoughts. You follow much the same path, quietly trying to parse what it is you really feel as well.

You do care for them both dearly, without question. It’s not clear how things will go, or if they even will. You’re not even sure how to handle a relationship at this point when you have no experience with them, and when so much is going on that you can’t properly focus on one. But upon a second assessment, you realize Lav has hardly asked for a concrete answer on what it is you want—she only wants to know if there’s anything there. You wouldn’t say no.

“I do,” you say more certainly. Cyrus, upon hearing your answer, leans his elbows on the table and closes his eyes. You watch him in wait, until he eventually arrives on much the same answer.

“So do I.”

Lav smiles slightly, but looks downtrodden as she shifts her eyes away. “We just don’t know what yet, or if it’s with each other or just…individually. Right?”

Both you and Cyrus give an equal murmur of agreement on this statement.

You look between the both of them and frown. “And now where do we go? Is that it for now?”

Lav, unsure herself, looks over across the table. “Cyrus?”

“I forgive you, and possibly myself, if that’s what you mean,” is his response.

“Enough to mingle, apparently,” Lav teases the young man. “I forgive us both too. We’re even then, yeah?”

Cyrus laughs. “Yeah. I guess I feel a little better after talking about it. Though, I think there’s something I should try when I see everyone today. I mean, if they show up.”

“Huh? Like what?” You ask curiously. Cyrus shrugs.

“You know how this group is. We worry about each other a lot. So if I go back, they’re gonna wanna know more about what’s up with me. I haven’t really been honest about that to anyone but you two and Eight,” Cyrus explains. “So…I think I want to be. Not only about what’s bugged me this time, but everything that’s led up to it too. Without really getting too intimate about the emotional details where we’re involved, of course.”

Lav frowns. “So you mean everything regarding all the other Numbers?”

Cyrus, despite the brief chipper attitude, becomes a bit sullen and shifts his eyes away. “Yeah. And I do mean everything. I don’t want them to have to hear it, but maybe it’s better that way. It’ll give everyone a much better idea of all the grief I’ve built up. Some of the other Numbers know how hard it’s been for me, but maybe they need to hear it more clearly. Plus…they have a right to know.”

“Why now?” Lav seems concerned, but Cyrus does not bat an eye about his decision. He again regains eye contact with you both, his face more serious.

“I just want to. I’ve had a lot of time to think. And I always thought that I needed to be the one to shoulder things, that I had to protect everyone from the horrors of this place. But I’m so tired of this cycle.”

Cyrus then exhales through his nose. “I don’t know. I just want this to go away. So I want to tell what I know. I’m hoping it might help a little.”

You look on at Cyrus worriedly. “And Jade?”

Cyrus pauses a moment, focusing mindlessly on the table again. Eventually, he does give a nod and answers,

“I’d like to move on. And maybe the best way to do that is to open up about my grief. Maybe it’ll give me peace of mind. I just spent all this time sheltering the others from harsh truths and trying to hide myself from the same thing because I didn’t want to be faced with a sad reality. Meditation has only prepared me to accept a frightening inevitability, but…I guess I need more than just that to quell me. And It’s not like I never came to this conclusion either, I just never worked up the courage to follow through with opening up. I was always cowardly.”

He sighs and shuts his eyes. “All this time I used my passions to keep me afloat, used meditation as a means to come to grips with my misery. But it’s not something that can alone cure that. I need honesty. I need closeness.”

His eyes slowly open. “I need love. But even when I am loving and am loved in return, in my worst moments, I shut people out so they don’t have to deal with me, because I see myself as a burden. That only makes things worse. Even if me being open now doesn’t change anything right away, it might make me feel a lot better to let go of all the things I’ve tucked away.”

A subtle smile grows on your lips. “You’re really growing up, huh?”

Cyrus blushes and groans. “Look, I know a lot, and I’ve worked hard to keep myself going. But even I have so much I can still learn. You never really master anything even with vigorous and extensive practice. You can always be surprised, right?”

“You’re no less human than anyone else, Cyrus,” Lav remarks. “But even with all your flaws, you’re doing pretty well for yourself. I’m happy for you. Just keep at it without sacrificing your emotional health, okay? And take breaks now and then if you need.”

“Roger,” Cyrus laughs a bit. He then rises, pushing his palms on the table to do so. After taking a moment to stretch, he looks over at you and Lav and gives a shrug. “I’m gonna go wait in the rec room, alright? Maybe someone’s there by now. We’ll probably have to rally Eight and Five from the music room, though.”

“They’re here?” You ask. Cyrus nods.

“Six was supposed to be there for a music lesson, but I guess they had to practice without her since she’s in the infirmary. Five had gone to check on Six earlier from what Nine told me, but Gale seemed to want time alone with her, so Five ended up going to the music room alone. Since I don’t think Six will be super awake enough to play an instrument just yet, I doubt practice will last much longer anyway.”

“To my knowledge, the others haven’t shown up yet. I'm sure they'll check the rec room first like they usually do anyway,” Lav adds. She then looks up at Cyrus worriedly. “You sure you wanna do this? You don’t have to rush it.”

“Positive,” Cyrus affirms. “I need to.”

With this, he leaves you and Lav alone, ultimately trusting her to help you get around like yesterday.

“Well, I guess that went in...um…a direction,” Lav comments. “Gotta admit, I was pretty nervous about how it’d go. But I guess I’m just glad he’s opening up a little more.”

You merely give a muttering “yeah” in response, leaving Lav to look over at you with a frown. “I’m surprised he’s willing to talk about all the stuff he’s dealt with. But there are still things he still doesn’t know, aren’t there?”

“I haven’t told him my position, no” you affirm unhappily, picking up on Lav’s meaning. “I know I need to, but like you said, it’s probably best to take things step by step. I’ll tell him after all this is over. Besides, I wouldn’t want to bring him down even more than he already is. Let him get over one hill before we come to another.”

“Is this really gonna make him feel better?”

“He seems to think so,” you shrug. “I can’t speak for him, but I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Plus, do you know how hard it is to get the guys to open up to anyone but each other? As it is, I was surprised I was able to talk more openly to Two.”

Lav raises a brow. “You did? Gee, you really are easy to talk to. Can you lend me that gift too?”

She nudges your arm slightly, leaving you to laugh. “Hey, I’m not some camp counselor here, nor am I trying to be. I think me trying to help others is something that started rubbing off on me from Cyrus. Though, in general, I just like to be with other people. Being alone isn’t really my thing.”

Lav’s smile fades at your last words. “I bet not. You really pulled through a lot by yourself, though.”

“I had to,” is all you say about it. Lav looks down.

“I’m just glad you’re here. And I really meant what I said, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“About being sorry for pushing you so much. For being forward. I’ve always been an up-and-at-‘em kind of girl. Even in my worst moments, I’m stubborn about pushing through and moving on. So when I meet people like you or Cyrus, maybe I get a little carried away and come on too strong.”

You smile. “Well, that’s just it, I guess. We’re different. Five and Six once told me people just go at their own pace. It was so long ago that I didn’t really know what to make of it then, but they weren’t wrong. But I don’t think that means we can’t be on the same level. We just kind of have to find a way to work together if we happen to be in completely different lanes. Meet in the middle, maybe.”

“Five and Six?” Lav gives a slight wide-eyed expression as she focuses on your initial statement. “When did you talk to them about that stuff?”

“Just after the first time we got together.” You look over at Lav, raising your shoulders a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, but I really was just confused after the fact. I felt good and safe with you, I just didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t sure how to process it. The two of them ended up talking to me about relationships a little.”

Lav looks away. “Maybe it was a little dumb of me to go after the new girl. But I kind of just…felt it in the moment. I’m sorry if you thought I was just some lusty weirdo.”

“Like Blue?” You joke, making Lav laugh loudly before clamping a hand over her mouth. Her cheeks nearly go red when she catches herself almost laughing at the expense of her friend.

“Whoops.”

After giving a bit of a laugh at her reaction, you move the conversation forward. Your hand meets hers on the table, your fingers squeezing gently against her flesh in reassurance. “Nine, it’s okay. I like you a lot. Have you already forgotten that?”

“It just makes me feel good to hear you say it,” your companion can’t help but smile again after dropping her other hand from her mouth. Seeing her a little more at peace and back to her teasing self brightens your own spirit. You’re glad that she and Cyrus managed to work something through, but suppose it is true emotions are still in need of assessment. You all seem to know how you feel about one another, but it’s hard to be honest when closeness with anyone requires much more work than what you’re already putting in. You and Cyrus especially hit constant waves of grief and misery, and it leaves you low. Lav isn’t free of this either—she talks a big game and can stand on her own far stronger than you, but even she can crumble, especially when she’s hurt by people she’s opened her heart to.

It’s no surprise this place wrecks you all. How Five and Six have managed to be perfectly stable baffles and delights you all the same, but you’re admittedly as jealous about their ability to be close and juggle conflict healthily as Blue is. Though, Blue hardly strikes you as the kind of girl who only wants a romantic relationship. Maybe you’re a sucker for enjoying the more emotionally intimate moments. You almost want to laugh thinking this, though, because it’s not like you haven’t gotten sexual gratification too.

“What is it you see in me, by the way?” You can’t help but wonder aloud. “What is it about me that people like so much?”

In part, you mean this for her and Cyrus, and how they see you, but saying these words aloud only makes you remember The Overseer asking something similar once before. He seemed frustrated that doctors went out of their way for you, unless there was more to his statement than you could figure otherwise. Of course, not all doctors do it for you—some simply do it for all prisoners. But even so…

“It differs per person, I think,” Lav tries to ponder on the question. “I can’t speak for anyone else. I can’t read minds, you know. Maybe people think you’re just nice and sweet. I certainly do.”

“Is that it?” You’re confused. “I’m just nice? I feel like that’s hardly the only reason anyone would like someone else.”

Lav chuckles. “I said it differs. But if I have to elaborate—You counter my, I guess, bold personality. You ground me when I feel like I'm standing a little too tall to a point of…I dunno, hubris? If I’m left unchecked, I could probably be a little too proud. Having others like you in my life keeps me realistic and considerate.”

She closes her eyes. “And you make me smile. I like that about you. But evidently the whole opposites thing leads to me leaving you uncomfortable, and leads to me getting bothered by your lack of decisiveness."

You glance at her, surprised. "That bothers you?"

"A little." Lav looks hesitant to admit it.

"Then why put up with it and be so chill and patient?"

Surprisingly, Lav laughs again and opens her amber eyes. "Look, I stand for what I believe in, but I won't put anyone down if they need to be held up, even if that challenges my beliefs. I’m not going to force you to change for me. If you’re the kind of person who needs to take a step back and assess something, then that’s who you are and that’s how you do things. I can’t impede on that. I won’t try to. But that doesn’t mean I have to avoid you because we have such vastly different styles and opinions. So don't think for a second I'm 'settling' or 'putting up with you'. It’s more like I see something in you that makes me want to do better. I don't listen to your words and take your advice because I have to. I want to."

"…Why?"

"Because I love you, silly!" Lav leans against your shoulder and head, donning the biggest smile on her face you’ve ever seen. Her tied back hair swings to the side as she does. "You mean a lot to me!"

You can’t help but blush at this closeness and these words. In your surprise, you’d almost ask something stupid like “how?” or even “why?” again, but it’s hard to muster words right this moment.

“That was so sudden,” is all you manage to say after a moment. Lav giggles a bit.

“Sorry, I know it sounds so forward coming from me. But I do mean it, Ten.”

She then picks her head up and parts her mouth, looking at you with worry. “Oh no, did I go too fast again? I’m so sorry—”

You smile gently for her and shake your head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to step around me like that. Especially not now that we’ve come as far as we have with whatever it is we do have.”

This seems to calm your companion down a little, but judging by the now tight-lipped look she’s giving you, Lav isn’t absolutely convinced. So, you try to elaborate.

“You really seem to know how you feel without a doubt,” is what you choose to tell her. Your hand squeezes at the back of Lav’s again. "You're not afraid to say it to me because that’s the kind of person you are. You move a little too forward at times, but there’s a lot about that I love. You know how to stick up for yourself, how to be strong when you have to be. You’re not afraid to be yourself. There are always drawbacks to that kind of personality the way there are drawbacks to who I am…whoever that might be. Sometimes I struggle to find out when things get out of hand."

“You’re you,” Lav affirms. “You don’t have to find out everything about yourself overnight.”

You smile to yourself. “I know. And I’m glad you’re willing to be so patient with me. I guess you are a bit of a forward person, but I think you’re capable of understanding your limits too, contrary to what you’ve said today. You’re considerate, just a little forgetful. But I am too sometimes. I used to ignore the fact that you were capable of weakness because I was so enraptured by your strength, but you’re no different than any one of us. I remember what we talked about the day before I left. I still feel now the way I did then.

“I love that you’re capable of being yourself unapologetically. That can work against people like me at times when I get so flustered and freak out under pressure, and that can definitely work against people like Cyrus who feels like he has to bear all the burden, and who hesitates to speak up when he struggles. But you have a lot of your own strengths that work well with ours. I’m glad you know how you feel. And even if I react strangely to it sometimes, I’d still rather you speak your mind and be open about what you’re feeling. The worst I can do is tell you I need time to process it.”

“And do you?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly, again squeezing Lav’s hand. “I do care about you very much, Nine. But with how fucked up things are for me right now, I’m not really even sure what to do. I know how I feel, but I’m not ready to move forward right now. And, if I’m being honest, I’m afraid of how I’ll function in a relationship. I’m still so rattled by all this stuff happening to me, and when I mess things up so much. I-“

Your frustrations grow again as your words drum up the fearful feelings about what’s been happening around you recently. Lav hardly has full context to what you mean, and can only be led to assume your self-esteem is in question again. Maybe you do have a low opinion of yourself a lot of the time, but there’s so much more to how you’ve been feeling. You can hardly blame her for not understanding, though appreciate her immediate willingness to be reassuring.

Lav shakes her head at your words. “Ten, you’re not some failure or something. We all make mistakes and misjudge things. And ‘I love you’ isn’t a phrase you have to save for a romantic relationship.”

You blush. “I guess not. I just have it in my head that I have to make it special, for some reason. It’s hard to take that phrase for myself when I used to hear it from my doctor a lot, and probably still will for a while. I want it to be special. I want it to be for people close to me.”

“Is love hard to express for you?”

“I guess somewhat,” you admit. “I know it sounds crazy since I can bark back at some doctors without hesitation, but I’m shy. I don’t know. This place has me all messed up. Can you blame me?”

Lav shakes her head. “Never.”

You take your hand from hers and politely place it in your lap a moment, thinking on whether your words might have been hurtful or disheartening somehow. Lav just admitted she loved you, and you feel like you just snubbed her. That wasn’t your intention.

Maybe you want to make it up to her, because you wind up turning to your left to face her, one leg taken out from under the table and placed on the outside of the bench. Sucking in your breath, you try to speak.

“Nine, I-“

To your surprise, the young woman brings a hand gently to your mouth and hovers a finger over your lips to stop you. Rather than give a look of contempt or sadness, she smiles warmly.

“Don’t say it,” she tells you, her voice soft and low. Like you, she turns in her seat and faces you. “Not to me, not to him. Not if you’re not ready, and not because you think you ought to. And even if you never are ready to say it, that won’t change what you mean to me. To us. Okay?”

Thankful, you return her smile. Why you feel compelled to is uncertain, but you wind up throwing your arms up around her shoulders and wrapping the girl in a tight hug. Your cheek nuzzles against the crook of her neck, and Lav, without words, brings her arms around your back as well and holds you tight.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “Sorry this has been so awkward.”

“It’s alright,” she lightly giggles, the vibrations of her voice sinking into your neck and ear. “Sorry I’ve been such a demanding jerk.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I know, I know,” is the young woman’s response. She soon pulls away from you just a hair, enough for her face to meet yours. “Thanks for being so reassuring.”

You laugh and lean in to give her a quick peck. “I don’t want you guys to be sad. If I have to drag you out of the muck myself I will.”

“Wasn’t that my job once?”

The both of you share a fit of laughter, and once it ends, Lav shakes her head.

“By the way, we should go meet with Cyrus already. I’m sure he’s sitting there awkwardly just waiting for everyone.”

“Or getting his ear talked off by whoever’s here by now,” you add with a chuckle.

Now that things have settled between you two, Lav clears up the table a bit and leaves all the trays with Charlie, whom she greets momentarily before focusing back on you. She picks you up like before, and once again you settle comfortably against her chest. As per the norm, Lav makes sure the hall is completely empty before bringing you to the rec room, and once there, the both of you catch sight of Cyrus chatting with Pickle and Blue by the couch across from the TV. Blue seems more focused on whatever she’s watching rather than on the two boys, but you do see her opening her mouth to comment now and then.

Blue’s sitting on the left of the couch, and Pickle to the right by Cyrus, who’s seated on the armrest. Seeing him like that only brings you back to when you first met him. since he’d been positioned much the same way. Maybe that’s a silly thing to reminisce, but you’re glad to see him nonetheless.

Lav’s brown brows raise up as she walks their way. “Woah, didn’t even hear you two come in.”

“I just came a little while ago,” Pickle turns his head toward you two and gives a shy laugh. “Blue came before me. When I got here, Cyrus said you two were still in the cafeteria.”

“Yeah, for a while,” Cyrus notes with a subtle smirk. “Wonder why.”

You’re nearly surprised he’s back to joking like normal, until you remember he’s pretty used to jumping back into things that way for the sake of keeping up a more casual appearance.

“Hey, we got to talking, no big deal,” Lav shrugs as she seats you down between Pickle and Blue. “Anyway, you get custody now. I gotta go drag Eight out of his comfort zone for a little bit.”

Cyrus lowers a brow at the jesting remark. “Custody?”

“Oh yeah, Five’s with him, right? I’m sure she’ll understand,” Blue snickers at Lav’s other remark, prompting the lavender-dressed girl to nod knowingly.

“So, you told them you needed to talk?” You ask Cyrus, who remains sheepish about the topic.

“Let’s wait to be specific until everyone’s here.”

Slowly, everyone starts to trickle in as expected. It wasn’t really certain whether the entire group would come, but Cyrus supposed so since many had shots and checkups done fairly recently anyway. You learn that the twins and Violet have yet to show, but most everyone else is here now.

First comes in a distraught Eight, being dragged by the ear by Lav like a young boy who’s acted out and is being punished.

“Ow!” He grunts out. “Quit it, I told you I was busy!”

“And I told you Cyrus needs us,” Lav does not relent. She hardly stops until she’s brought the bitter young man before everyone. “If I were your mom, I’d ground you.”

“If you were my mom I’d run away,” Eight huffs once he’s finally released. Grumpily, he rubs the side of his head over his ear. The others can only laugh at the spectacle, even Cyrus. Once Eight’s green eyes catch sight of him, his expression slightly softens, but remains astute. He says nothing, but does take his place on the floor by the couch, with Lav following suit.

While the others chat up a little, save for Cyrus who remains quiet and only listens in for now, you do little more than mindlessly watch the movie on screen with the few other Numbers who are choosing to focus on it. However, you remain completely aware of Cyrus even though he’s not immediately beside you. It’s not clear how his talk with the others will go, but you direly hope it’ll help lift some weight off his shoulders. Even if he remains on edge because of what happened with you, any other relief could be beneficial for him.

Five does not appear as you expected, or at least not right then. The lot of you chat a bit in wait of her, and only when she does appear do you realize why she lingered behind. Leaning against her frame as she enters the room is a sleepy Six, who has finally recovered from her likely large dose of anesthetic. She hardly seems to have trouble walking by how easily she takes steps in spite of her bruising, which you note is hidden now that her gown is lowered over her legs. However, Five does not allow her peachy sweetheart to walk alone in her tired state, and opts to have Six’s arm wrapped around her own shoulder.

You suppose Gale has gone away, then. Seeing Six now only makes you wonder just how things will go tonight. You want to talk to Gale longer about what’s been going on, but aren’t entirely sure just how much you can get away with saying since they’re apparently trying not to overstep their bounds again.

“You okay?” Pickle asks the tired girl when she starts rubbing her eye. In want of a kind gesture, he gets off his place on the couch and lets Five lead her sweetheart to it. You scoot closer to Cyrus to leave space in the middle of the couch for both girls. Six does not hesitate to take her place by you, with Five nestling between her and Blue just after. Other than them, you, Cyrus, everyone else is now on the floor.

“I feel like I just got hit by a truck,” Six grumbles, leaning her head back against the back of the couch. “I hate those damn drugs.”

“I heard that you saw Milos,” you say unhappily, partly turning your body so that the tv and the couch are on either side of you. “Are you okay?”

Six shrugs. “Just a bit of exhaustion and a bruise, not a big deal. I’ll live.”

Five gives a bit of a sigh in response, but does not add to the conversation and instead keeps her focus and touch on her sweetheart. You’re sure she knows well the kind of man Milos is, and how horribly he can rattle others up even with just a small bit of effort. Either he forgets how fragile everyone is compared to him, or he hardly cares.

When Cyrus expresses a want to wait for the others, everyone else starts to chat amongst themselves again. You notice most everyone avoids directly referring to Cyrus too much in worry that he might still be in a sensitive state. However, he’s managing to interact with them like normal otherwise. Hearing his laughter at occasional jokes from the others feels…genuine. The only person who’s not really interacting with him much is Pickle, but you wager it’s because he hardly knows how to go about it.

The twins and Violet eventually do come in as hoped, with Pickle perking up rather immediately upon Two’s arrival. Three doesn’t much fight back against her brother leaving her side to go sit with him, but does take her place on the floor beside Lav, who flashes her a smile.

“What’s going on?” Violet remains wary and doesn’t immediately sit down. Her dark eyes fixate on Cyrus. She almost looks surprised to see him. “You guys haven’t sat together like this in a while.”

The Numbers on the floor, awaiting a response from the young man, turn toward the couch now and look at Cyrus expectantly.

“I needed to talk to everyone,” is his answer, though he simply keeps his gaze down. “We’ve been sort of waiting for everyone to come.”

“I guess it is sort of weird that we came in to see you sitting with the others after so long without you around,” Two admits with a shrug. “But It’s nice to see you back.”

Cyrus nods a bit. “It feels good to see everyone again. You know, without ducking away each time.”

He hardly hides the awareness he has of his behavior. This, however, does not satisfy Violet. She frowns and gets straight to the point. “Then why do you look so sad?”

Cyrus picks his head up and gives Violet a confused look, but she does not budge, and instead folds her arms. “Something’s really bugging you. I know that look. So what exactly do you need to talk about? ”

“Vi…” Despite wanting to say something, Cyrus can hardly muster more than her name. After fighting with himself on just how to phrase what he wants to say, he eventually does speak up again. This time, he addresses everyone. “There’s a lot I need to go over, but it's complicated. There’s things I need to say that you might not like to hear.”

“What things?” Three questions with a worried expression. “Are you in trouble?”

“Nothing like that,” is Cyrus’ reassuring answer. “I just have things I’ve been avoiding telling you. Details about the past I’ve left out. And I’ve decided that maybe if I let go of the grief I have, it’ll help me a little. I always go through these cycles of misery that I can manage, but I don’t just want to manage them forever. I want to make it better. Or at least try to, anyway.”

“If it’s going to help you, then you shouldn’t hesitate to get things off your chest.” Five gives an answer that seems obvious, but remains oblivious to just what Cyrus means. He shakes his head.

“I know that much. But what I have to say isn’t just going to make me feel better. It might hurt you. All of you. That’s why I’m hesitating, and that’s why I always have.”

“Hurt us how?” The others seem confused by Cyrus’ words, but Eight and Lav remain focused, since they know what their friend is getting at. You wind up biting your lip a bit, watching Cyrus intently as he tries drumming up the right words. For someone who’s always had an easy time talking to others, this he seems especially stuck on.

“I’ve told you general things about the other Numbers we used to know, but there’s things I’ve experienced and have had to see that I haven’t entirely been honest about. What I have to say isn’t exactly pleasant, and I’d hate to hurt anyone by being open about something difficult to process.”

He looks up and thinks a bit. “I guess if I’m being honest, I’m especially worried about Three and Violet.”

“Why?” Violet’s eyebrows lower. But it only takes a second for her and Cyrus’ eyes to meet again before her own expression shifts into one of slight surprise. You’re able to gather she knows just what he means. Beyond just the deaths he’s witnessed, he fully intends to divulge what he went through with Jade. Only once this understanding is reached does Violet shift her eyes away. She reflects just a moment before grumbling. “Say what you need.”

“Three?” Cyrus’ attention then turns to the red-shirted young woman on the floor. She grows flustered rather quickly, flashing Cyrus a look resonating with a mixture of worry and confusion.

“Am…I a burden?” Is all she asks. Five on the couch is the first to react to this, and she shakes her head.

“No, honey, he’s just worried about how you’ll take hearing hard things,” she assures the girl. “You know yourself better. Are you willing to deal with being told something bad right now?”

Three frowns. “I’m not a baby.”

Despite these words, you can see her fumbling with the hem of her gown, eager to do something rather than sit still. It seems both she and her brother are becoming more self-aware with how they’re seen by others. They’ve been acting so strange since you got back. Only when they have a distraction are they like their usual selves.

“If it hurts me, it hurts me.” Three continues. “I want you to feel better.”

You’re hardly happy to hear that answer. It’s less reassuring than self-sabotaging.

“Well, maybe you can think of it as closure for yourself too,” Lav tries to suggest in hopes of softening the eventual blow. You have the feeling she’s thinking the same thing as you by how worried she looks. Three merely shakes her head.

“I don’t know if I’ll like what I hear, or if I’ll take it well. I don’t like that stuff. But I don’t want Cyrus to be detached anymore. I missed him.”

Giving a sigh, Violet finally opts to sit down, taking her place beside the uncomfortable Three, while Lav remains on her other side. In an attempt to be gentle, she tries to reassure her. “We all did.”

These words make the young man at the end of the couch tense up a bit, but he refuses to stop presenting himself as collected and unphased. “If that’s what you want.”

Finally, Cyrus presses on with his discussion. You, Lav, and Eight all watch as he lays out every chip of his broken heart and tells the same story about the previous Numbers he told you three under the table and beyond. The others hear point blank every instance of death, of suffering, of fear, from his perspective. And, expectedly, it’s hardly easy for Cyrus to recount everything in detail. He winds up pausing now and then to gather his words, a pained expression creeping on his face with each one. You also notice that he regularly avoids looking at anyone in particular so that he doesn’t have to see their response to his words.

To say the others are shocked is an understatement, but most everyone seems to accept the news fine otherwise. It’s been enough time for most of the Numbers to not be so stricken by the horrible recounting of their friends’ deaths and disappearances, but it’s hardly a pleasant thing for anyone to hear in general. Pickle, having had no context to anything, is left speechless hearing how much suffering there’s been in this group. He’d known of the other Numbers, but from what you can see of him, he’s gone stiff. Perhaps this doesn’t make him any more optimistic about his place here since he’s fairly new, but he wanted to let Cyrus speak. This is simply a consequence.

Three lets her eyes go wide upon hearing about Penny, along with a few of the more gruesome deaths. Wanting only to comfort her, Violet takes her hand in hers and squeezes it tight. You’re surprised to see her taking so much initiative, but she doesn’t relent in helping her friend get through the difficult news. You wonder just how much about all this she knew, but she hardly seems surprised if her lack of immediate reaction is any indication.

Lav and Eight remain with tense faces, utterly aware of how much this has hurt Cyrus, and not at all eager to see him so down again. But every time Cyrus seems to stop and gather his words, you can also see him pressing himself not to hold back. He doesn’t want to hide.

“I always knew these people were terrible…but why let all this happen?” Six remains uncertain after Cyrus finally lets his words ebb a bit. “And why haven’t we been affected like that?”

“I’ve said before they’ve been trying to be more careful,” answers Cyrus bluntly. “While we’re seen as expendable, it’s possible they don’t want us to die right off the bat. We’re here for a reason, I’m sure. But a lot of what happened was incidental, or the result of panic, grief, or misery. We’ve been more careful to avoid all that where we can. So we survive.”

Pickle looks down at the floor and scrunches up his face. “I-I had no idea it was that bad.”

“It doesn’t apply to us anymore,” Blue retorts. She seems to be attempting to make him feel better, but this only offends Five, who immediately starts to reprimand her.

“How could you say that?! They were important to us!”

“She didn’t say they weren’t,” Eight chimes in with a shake of his head. “She means that it’s not healthy to remain grievous and bitter over what happened. We have no control over it, and it’s over and done with anyway. The best we can do is remember them as they were. We have those dolls in the rec room to remind us of what’s important, don’t we?”

You notice Three and Violet remaining completely silent through all this, with both their hands still clasped tightly together.

“I don’t like knowing this,” Two sighs. “There’s things I had heard a little more in detail from Cyrus once, but not like that. I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“None of them deserved that,” Six adds tiredly, her brows scrunching up. “And Cyrus, you especially should never have had to see all that happen. It’s no wonder you’ve felt the way you have.”

“And maybe it doesn’t help you right now, but we are…sorry,” Blue finally spares a more vocal shred of sympathy. When you look over her way, she’s not overtly sad the way some of the others are. However, her usual lively tone is exceptionally dampened now. She sounds serious. “Some of us were really close to the others. I can’t imagine what it was like to have had to lose everyone. And to see it happen.”

“I’ve lived with that grief for a long time,” is what Cyrus chooses to respond with. “Like anyone, I’ve always been afraid to die. And back then, I just didn’t know what to do about that. All the work I’ve done to keep everyone together and keep myself afloat…I knew I was going to die here. I just didn’t want to let that eat at me. And I don’t want it to eat at anyone here either. I want us to enjoy at least something in this place. I want us to be close, because all we have is each other.”

His hands ball into fists in the lap of his crossed legs.

“I just don’t want to die alone.”

Six, who’s closest to Cyrus, reaches her hand up and places it on his back. “You won’t die.” Her words aren’t really certain, but she’s hardly about to let the subject continue gnawing at her friend.

“And you won’t be alone,” you add assuredly. “We love you, Cyrus. Even if some of us are hesitant to admit it.”

Eight, knowing this is partly a jab at him, merely looks away. However, he doesn’t deny your statement.

The others try to assure Cyrus that they want only what’s best for him, words you hope don’t fall on deaf ears. Cyrus merely seems unsure of how to take everything in the moment. You wonder if he feels a little exposed. You certainly find it awkward to be honest about your feelings, but have always found it beneficial to be. You hope that’s the case for him too.

Despite the lull in tension, Three is the one who eventually brings it back to the surface of the conversation. In spite of her silence, without shifting her eyes from Cyrus, she says only one thing:

“You left out Jade.”

This makes Cyrus pause a moment. Both he and Three were fairly partial to the girl, but neither seem so eager to go over her tragedy. You’re sure Cyrus intended to save her for last because of the difficult nature of his relationship with her and how much it hurt him to lose her. But for every bit of hurt he feels over her loss, he knows Three especially will feel it just as much.

“I…” He hesitates. “It’s a lot to go over.”

“Where is she?” Three’s insistent words make Cyrus wince a bit. But rather than sugarcoat it, he only answers,

“Gone. You and I both know that.”

You and the others look over at the red-shirted girl in worry, but she does not react with tears or fury. Rather, she eventually looks down with a trembling lip. “I know.”

The room goes quiet, the tension again sweeping over the crowd of Numbers. Cyrus decides to break it by talking more about what he’s been putting off.

“Jade was someone I loved dearly,” he says. Despite the confession, Violet does not budge or pout. She listens. “I hesitated to be open about what she meant to me, but I tried to be there for her nonetheless. When she started suffering, I was there trying to save her, as if it was only me who could. But maybe I neglected others important to me because of that. If I did, I’m sorry.”

You eye Violet in hopes of gauging a reaction, but she continues not to give one. She merely watches Cyrus closely, while keeping her hand wrapped around Three’s.

Cyrus continues on about Jade, spilling more about what he witnessed in her, the eventual emotional changes she went through, and his affection for her that ultimately went nowhere. He expresses every regret he had with her, every instance of love and pain and concern for her. When he finally discloses what he witnessed in the hall before she disappeared, he stops talking for just a moment to breathe.

“I didn’t want to accept that she was gone,” he eventually says. “Or that anyone was gone, really. But I’ve had to deal with all that grief and only recently have had to accept that Jade was gone too. I didn’t want to think it was true. Maybe I was delusional in hoping that she’d come back like Sienna once did. Really, anyone who had only mysteriously disappeared could easily have returned…but that’s just not how it is. I know that.”

Nobody really knows how to react, so he goes on. “I got sick of feeling this way. Jade was the last person I remember losing, since I have absolutely no memory of who the previous Ten was. And then he got replaced by our Ten. And rather than push someone away to avoid feeling bad, I opened up to her.”

You look away, blushing slightly with embarrassment at these words and the attention they’re now drawing to you.

“And maybe I was just so tired of losing people that almost losing her twice, just after I got to know her, opened up old wounds.”

He hardly mentions his affection for you, or all the closer moments you’ve shared together. To everyone else, he’s probably just talking about a dear friend. But to you, and how his voice sounds when he speaks about you, it’s clear just how he really feels.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes suddenly. “I don’t mean to be so grim.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Blue assures him. “We’re here to listen to you even if the stuff you’re saying is super painful. Talk all you want.”

Strangely, Cyrus gives a weak laugh. “Painful to you or me?”

“Hey, you know what I mean!” Blue retorts with a puff of her cheek.

“We really appreciate you being so open with us,” Five adds, her voice soft. “I wish we could give more than an ‘I’m sorry’, but…”

“I know,” Cyrus promises. His voice is still solemn, but you can see that he’s adjusting slowly to being rid of all the pent-up grievances. “I’m...um…grateful that you guys are willing to listen. I don’t mean for you to fuss over me or anything.”

He catches sight of a rather heartbroken Three on the floor, and frowns. “Are you okay?”

Three shakes her head slowly. “Why did they die?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

Again, Cyrus responds with “I don’t know”. Such a response hardly satisfies a clearly rattled Three, but she can’t much help that. From how tightly she’s clutching Violet, you’re sure she wants to get up and leave. But she doesn’t.

“Things seemed a lot worse before us,” Violet finally adds to the conversation despite her complete silence earlier. “But maybe we can focus on making the best of what we have for their sake. Like Eight said, we already have our little memorial. We can’t do much other than keep them in our memory.”

She looks over at Cyrus, quietly acknowledging his more open confessions about Jade. “I wish I had known the others much better. I regret being the person I was back then, and being so selfish. But I’m glad you had the strength to come forward about everything on your own. I’m sure you must have been in hell holding it all in.”

“I was,” Cyrus answers her quietly. Though neither Cyrus nor Violet acknowledges the issue of Jade, they seem to bounce off one another fairly easily. You’re sure there’s a separate, quiet conversation happening between them just through their glances. “But I know I’m not the only one who’s held things in.”

Violet finally blushes and looks away. “Yeah.”

Another brief silence falls among the group, until Pickle breaks it. “So…what now?”

“I don’t know,” is Cyrus’ shrugging answer. “I guess I did this to make me feel better, but I just feel bad knowing I made you all feel bad.”

“We had to hear about it sometime,” Five tries to be encouraging, despite her evidently hurt expression. “I’m glad we know now what happened. Well, for the most part anyway. I’m not exactly happy with the gruesome details, but…”

She shakes her head, hoping to cease the unpleasant thoughts. “Hell, that doesn’t matter. How are you feeling now?”

Cyrus ponders this a moment as the others turn to him in expectation of an answer. Perhaps they look a bit more desperate than usual, but you remind yourself he’s been hiding away for a while. They hadn’t really gotten much feedback from him other than from anyone who happened to pass him by.

“I guess lighter,” is his eventual response. “I just never wanted to hurt anyone by being so open about what happened, or what I felt. I knew, especially back then when it was all fresh, that it would have torn all of you apart. But I guess now that we’ve had time to adjust to things again, the blow wasn’t as harsh. Still, I’m so sorry I never told you.”

He looks over at Blue, then the twins, then back to the floor as he speaks. “You and Nine, the twins and Penny, Jade and I…we were so close. And I can’t even imagine how horrible It was for Sienna’s closest friends to lose her, and for the previous Eight to lose Nine so suddenly. None of the people who were lost early on ever got to know just what happened to those who disappeared later. And for the longest time, you all never knew the whole story either. That was my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Six asserts. “You were in a tough spot. I don’t think any of us would have known just what to do in that situation. Though, I shudder to think just what might have happened to those even you didn’t get to see.”

“It’s sort of a grim topic,” Two tries to steer the conversation away from the details as his brown eyes lay upon his tensed-up sister. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus on it.”

“It’s okay to be scared of what might come, but I’m sure we won’t have it nearly as bad,” Cyrus tries to be encouraging as he sees the girl’s face frightened as well. “We’ll be fine as long as we keep our heads down and focus on each other.”

“But how long can we really be obedient?” You mutter. “It’s draining to be that way.”

Cyrus flashes you a knowing look. He’s aware of what you’re going through for the most part, as are Eight and Lav. “I know it’s hard, but what else are we going to do? Some people were lost because they were rowdy. Even if we’re needed for whatever the hell they’re doing to us here, I don’t doubt they’ll toss us aside if we’re too much trouble. Many of us have been threatened before. Just promise me you guys will keep going the way we have been. I don’t want to lose anyone else so suddenly.”

You want to protest, but refuse to let yourself hurt Cyrus with how little you agree. You don’t want to be submissive forever even knowing you have to be. And as it is, you’re stepping on thin ice with everything that’s happened lately.

Sacrificing yourself isn’t worth the pain it’ll bring the others. And it’d be stupid to let yourself get lost just after the group got you back. What’s the right call in this case? What are you supposed to do?

Despite feeling conflicted, you opt to agree and give Cyrus a word of assurance in his time of need. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”

You don’t know how true that is, no more than anyone else does. But the others all seem to murmur in agreement.

Three, still trying to hold herself together, simply lets go of Violet’s hand and leans her head against the girl’s shoulder. Violet hardly refuses her the comfort and instead brings her free hand behind Three and up to her head to hold it close. Three says nothing more, but seems overall accepting of everyone’s words and does not bother to stir the conversation again. You’re surprised she got through this without an outburst of tears, but feel her restrained reaction was no better.

“Um, Cyrus?” Pickle tries to get the young man’s attention. Cyrus picks his head up and looks over at the thin boy on the floor, curious. “So, are you going to stick around?”

“I hope so,” is Cyrus’ response. He attempts to smile gently for Pickle, and everyone. “I might still take time to myself, but I’ll be here. You don’t have to give me space anymore, if you want to talk.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t even really know the first thing about you, and I’ve been kinda shy about asking,” Pickle attempts to make light of the situation and sheepishly outs his feelings on the matter. “I’m really sorry you went through so much. I’m still new, so I can’t imagine the kinds of things you and the others have dealt with.”

“It’s alright,” Cyrus tries to tell him. He begins to scratch at the back of his head. “Honestly, I feel bad that you met me at one of my low points. And really, I guess we never really formally introduced ourselves because of this mess. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Pickle gives a shy smile, but he does not much respond. The others, wanting to move on from the earlier grim topic, pick up on this interaction and focus on it instead. Three hardly minds it, eager to get out of her miserable mindset herself.

“Pickle’s been pretty chill with us,” Six comments with a smirk. “But he keeps asking to cut people’s hair.”

“Sorry, sorry!” the green-clothed young man apologizes profusely with a sheepish laugh. “I just feel comfortable that way. I really like that stuff. I just wish we could do more with it here.”

“Hell, having the chance to get some kind of vanity stuff done other than from our doctors is nice,” Violet admits with a shrug of her free shoulder. “I sure felt good about my choice.”

“It looks good on you,” Three attempts to be reactive for the girl despite her own reservations about the earlier discussion. You catch Two occasionally looking over at her in worry, but he says nothing to her.

“You know, Cyrus, your own hair’s looking pretty grown out,” Eight comments casually, raising a brow and smirking a bit. You’re sure he’s just baiting Pickle to tease Cyrus about letting him cut his hair, just for the sake of letting his friend deal with the boy’s antics for once instead. “I’m surprised your doctor hasn’t kept up with it.”

“You’re one to talk, ponytail,” Lav teases, making Eight pout again.

Cyrus blinks in confusion and runs a hand through his hair in response to this. “Has it been growing? I’ve barely noticed. But with how long I’ve been here, I don’t notice that stuff usually unless someone points it out. Mom usually just deals with it herself anyway.”

“You think she’d mind if I trimmed it?” Pickle wastes no time in taking the bait, but does hesitate a bit after. “Ah, I mean, if that’s okay.”

Cyrus finally laughs aloud. “You know what? Why not? I could use a trim. Maybe not right now though. I guess I’m a little beat from all this today. But if you have a slot available tomorrow, I’ll take it.”

Pickle’s eyes light up. “Really? Ah, sure!”

“Geeks,” Blue huffs as she turns her attention back to the television and leans her head against her palm. With everyone slowly starting to get distracted, you finally focus on Three again. Wanting to get closer to her, you wind up scooching off the couch and dropping to the floor to do so. When you look over at Eight, you see that he and Lav have both opted to talk amongst themselves, with Lav having turned away from Three for the moment. Whatever they’re saying is too low to hear, but you’re sure it’s not exactly a pleasant discussion by how serious they look. Five and Six remain close to one another and watch the movie with Blue, while Pickle and Two move closest to Cyrus to begin chatting him up.

“Are you guys alright?” You ask the two girls by you now.

“As alright as I can be after having my heart ripped out, then painstakingly repairing it on my own,” Violet makes light of her prior miseries. “Yeah, I’m okay. Three?”

“I’m…sad,” is all the red-haired girl mumbles, her eyes focused elsewhere. “I don’t know.”

Violet sighs. “I’d Imagine it’s hard to cope with. You and your brother were here almost as early as Cyrus. You guys have been through a lot. Yet you’ve always stayed so chipper somehow. I know you guys don’t like taking in all the negative stuff. I don’t either, but do remember we’re here for you.”

“Think you’ll pull through?” You ask with concern to the red-headed girl’s morose state. She merely nods.

“I’m kind of scared, but now I don’t have my brother to help me with that as often,” she confesses. You glance over at Two, noting that he’s now laughing about something with Pickle and Cyrus. In your focus on the girls, you hardly heard what was said.

“Well, he still loves you,” you try to assuage Three’s doubts. “But if you can’t focus on him right now, you still have the rest of us, like Violet said. We’ll take care of you, okay? We may not be blood, but we’re still family.”

These words only briefly bring you back to The Overseer referring to Lucius as such once, as his brother in bond, not blood. It’s not a great comparison to make, and you chide your mind for wandering that way. Why have that thought now?

In any case, you’d like to nip Three’s issues in the bud now, but today’s already been chock full of heavy conversations. Like everyone else right now, Three’s currently swallowing a lot, but you’ll try to talk to her when you can. The girl merely nods in acknowledgement of your words. She’s taking all this a bit easier than she has before, but her defeat resulting from all the stressful news isn’t exactly assuaging either. You feel as though compromise between her and Two isn’t going to be easily reached if things keep going this way.

Despite the rockiness of the earlier conversation, everyone is able to go on like normal. It doesn’t much need to be said that the other Numbers will remain in the hearts of those who fondly remember them. Cyrus doesn’t appear to want to dwell on the subject further anyway, but you can tell by how willingly he laughs with the two in front of him that he’s genuinely feeling better, or at least on the path toward it. If this is merely an act, you can hardly tell. But seeing him smile every time your head turns toward him warms your heart.

The rest of today is spent partly as a group, though everyone sort of breaks off into their own subgroups anyway. After talking more with Lav, Eight eventually opts to return to his musical endeavors, though Five chooses to remain with Six on the couch and does not accept the young man’s invitation, one you never expected he’d give so casually without the prospect of lessons involved. Two and Pickle soon leave Cyrus alone to go play more in the arcade, but Violet and Lav remain with Three. Wanting only to take her mind off things, she stays huddled with both girls in front of the couch, now facing the television. Some black and white film is playing, but you’ve hardly had the desire to pay attention to it with everything going on in your head.

You await tonight, knowing that Gale intends to see you. Every so often, the intercom rings out in calling for one person or another, and the once full rec room eventually becomes barren, with only the peachy girlfriends and Three remaining. After losing both Lav and Violet to visits, Three soon sits where Blue once had and remains there for the rest of the time. When another movie you’re all watching eventually ends, you turn your head to look over your shoulder at her and the peachy girls, finding that they’re all asleep, or at least on the cusp of passing out from the comfort of sitting idly in each other’s warmth. Three isn’t leaning on anyone’s shoulders anymore, and has instead completely laid into Five’s lap, resting comfortably against it.

You smile a little at seeing her look pleasant in slumber, rather than bothered in awareness. Hopefully she’s at least content in her dreams, not wrought with confusing imagery like you. Even now the dream you had earlier vexes your mind. Not like you know what it’s all about, though. Every time you try to think about it, it only hurts your head.

“Ten, you there?” Cyrus calls you when he sees your distant, wandering expression. Only his voice really snaps you to full attention. You turn your body slightly to face him, and give a reassuring nod.

“I’m just full of thoughts I guess.” What a simple thing to say, but not exactly inaccurate.

“Been there before,” Cyrus sighs a bit. “I guess I’m not too unhappy with how things turned out today.”

“Could have been worse. Do you feel any better?”

Cyrus frowns. “I said I did. I think I still do. It’s not like being open is a complete cure for my sadness. It’s just a step toward alleviating the pressure I’ve faced. Not like I’m the only one who struggles. Everyone’s got their demons here. None are 'better' to have than any other.”

“Yours can’t tie you down forever. Just remember that much.”

Cyrus can’t help but laugh a bit. “Yeah. I almost let them this time. But I’m glad the others were here to listen to me. If I hadn’t said ‘fuck it’ and just poured out everything, I don’t think I ever would have.”

You look away upon hearing this. There are things you still need to talk to Cyrus about yourself, but…now’s not the right time. It’s not a particularly easy thing to hear after what he’s been through with Jade, and with your recent disappearance. Rather than let on that you’re bothered, you simply respond with a casual “yeah”.

Cyrus leans back on the armrest of the couch until his head hits the back wall. “God, I could use a nap too. I feel kind of drained just from talking. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” you laugh a bit in hopes of relieving the uneasiness. “You had an emotional breakthrough, let’s say. That’s probably cause for feeling drained. Plus, I’m sure it’s almost time for bed anyway.”

“Probably. I don’t know shit about time here, but after a while you sort of get the gist of when things might happen. Like an internal clock.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably depends on the person.”

Cyrus shrugs. “It’s handy sometimes. Anyway, guess I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. I’m starting to wonder if I should have said yes to Pickle. Was I a little too eager to please?”

You observe the young man’s hair for a moment and bring a hand to your chin in thought. “Hmm, it has gotten a little messy. Not like there’s harm in trying. He just wants to get to know you. Supposedly he even tried to cut Two’s hair even though there wasn’t all that much to. Like he said, it’s just how he gets close to people.”

“I wish it were that easy for everyone,” is Cyrus’ only casual retort as he starts to run another hand through his hair to try gauging its length. “I remember it being hard for everyone to adjust to each other in both groups.”

Before he can reminisce further, the intercom again goes off, and you finally hear your own Number get called by Monica. For once, you’re not really that put off by the summon. Plus, hearing Monica’s usual chipper voice, unburdened by yesterday’s events, helps ease your worries just the littlest bit.

“Guess I should go,” you sigh, then look up. “Um, Cyrus?”

The young man suddenly realizes you need help getting to the gate, so he does not waste a second in giving aid. He pushes off the couch and helps you up. The warmth of his body feels inviting after sitting on the cold floor for so long, you admit.

“I hope you don’t have to carry me all the way,” you mumble. “Monica had a worker bring me last time.”

“I will if I’m asked. Do you know who you’re seeing?”

You frown a bit. “Gale. But I’m not really that bothered by it this time. Is that weird?”

It’s less an issue of open trust and more that you have less to fear from a doctor who won’t hurt you. Study you, yes. But hurt? No. Not intentionally, anyway.

“I’d say that’s probably a blessing in this place,” is the young man’s answer. “You should hold onto that feeling.”

“Guess so,” you shrug. “By the way, are you sure I’m not too heavy for you? I feel kind of bad you and Lav have to keep helping me out like this.”

“Hey, I know I’m not super muscular, but you’re not that heavy either,” Cyrus chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’d hate to leave you hanging.”

He starts to walk toward the exit then, and you let out a sigh. “I need to exercise sometime. I hate feeling like this.”

“When you’re all better, you can run with me.” Cyrus remains upbeat for you and extends an invitation. “You can also go swimming or play basketball. I’m sure Nine and Violet would enjoy the company.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d be willing to give that a shot.”

Gale’s expectedly waiting at the gate for you once Cyrus takes you out of the room. They’re standing right at the exit, one arm bent and holding the elbow of the other. Gale’s free hand has its thumb placed against their lips, and you wager they’re biting their thumbnail again. Whatever focus Gale has while lost in thought is shattered once they lay their icy eyes on you. A smile spreads gently across their face instead.

“I suppose I should have sent someone after her,” they remark. “Thank you for helping her, One. I certainly hope it wasn’t because Momma goaded you into it. She seems to like teasing you two.”

“I was just trying to help,” is all Cyrus tells them. “Do you want me to bring her to…um…”

Gale’s smile does not relent. “No. Put her down, if you would.”

You and Cyrus exchange a confused look, but your companion does as asked and lets your feet touch the floor. Although it’s not super painful to lean partly on your injured foot, you still instead lean on the nearby wall by the now-closed office door. Gale simply watches you like a hawk.

“Can you walk?”

“Should I?” You remain unsure. “Aren’t I supposed to let it heal?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You frown. “I can try. I hobbled around in my room earlier. I guess it wouldn’t be that much different.”

“Will you walk all that way?”

Your eyebrows lower. “Will you make me?”

Gale can’t help but laugh lightly. “Of course I won’t. If you want me to bring you, I will.”

Cyrus looks over your way, parting his mouth as if to say something. However, he gives up on his train of thought and stays quiet. Seeing him now makes you realize Gale will get to observe today’s events closely at some point, if they hadn’t already seen it directly. You wonder just what they’ll think of it all. If they’ve kept a close eye on Cyrus as they have some of the other Numbers, will they feel glad that he’s managed to express himself to everyone? Will they be able to read an undertow of uncertainty that you couldn’t? For the most part, things seemed to go smoothly. Cyrus isn’t completely “fixed”, so to speak, but he genuinely looked relieved to have let out everything he could. It’s a start, at least.

Wanting to assuage the young man, you simply give him a shake of your head. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t much seem worried about you going off with Gale, but you suppose he’s not eager to be left alone again so soon. Most everyone is gone by now, save for the girls on the couch and the boys scattered about the area. But there’s always tomorrow, at least. Rather, you hope so.

Neither of you really say goodbye with words in Gale’s presence, but they don’t have to think twice about what you two are expressing even in silence. Cyrus leaves you with them, and you remain with your shoulder pressed against the wall. You realize it’s quite a bit of a walk to whichever room Gale wants to go in, but you’ve decided to stick with this unusual freedom to move around on your own. Why Gale’s watching you do this isn’t clear, but you suppose it’s harmless.

While you struggle to hop down the hall after managing to round the corner, Gale follows politely at your side, arms now dropped down and casually hanging by their legs.

“Are you sure you want to keep at this?” They question when you huff out some air to blow hair out of your face. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I think it’s starting to heal up, but I’d rather not chance walking on it. Even so, I’ll keep going.” You press on insistently. “Why are you hovering over me about it anyway?”

“I just wanted to see if you would walk on your own,” is all Gale says while giving a light chuckle. “Are you suspicious of me? Must everything I do be part of some masterminded plan?”

You keep pressing onward, though somehow feel a tinge winded already. You really are out of shape. You’ll be glad to take up the chance to exercise later. “Can you blame me for thinking it?”

“Hm, I suppose not. But I do wonder if you like the little freedom to walk on your own given Yosuke’s been pretty hovering himself.” Gale smiles. “He’s hardly hiding his interest now. Although I guess you don’t mind being carried around if it’s by your companions.”

“Should I be surprised that you pried?” You wind up having to put in extra effort not to lean on doors as you pass them, both because you fear that they’ll open, and because you really don’t want to hear what’s going on behind them if some of the others are still having visits. “Are you even here just for a visit?”

“I am,” Gale insists. “I do like being with you.”

“Observing me.”

“Both.”

You stop and sigh once you’ve finally reached your exam room. “Was it fun watching me huff my way over here?”

“A little,” Gale admits with a boyish giggle. “Do you need help from here?”

You look down at the floor and ponder this, while trying to avoid the awareness of Gale’s patient staring. Despite not being sure how you’ll get to the bed without support, you decide to refuse Gale’s help.

“I think I can manage.”

Chapter 79: Visit Thirty Two - Melt

If you looked stupid hopping against the wall, you definitely look even stupider trying to hop to your bed. But given that most everyone in this goddamn facility has seen you in compromising ways, maybe it shouldn't bother you so much.

Actually making it to and planting yourself on the bed brings enough relief for you to let out a triumphant sigh after making it here on your own. Oddly, there’s a different covering over the mattress, but it’s as bright white as ever. Upon bundling some of it in your hand, you note that It merely feels smoother and more plastic than what the beds are usually dressed with, yet still thin enough for you to feel the fabric underneath it. You suppose it’s not strange since you once wound up on a bed covered by a latex sheet, but this is hardly the same material.

You take note that there’s a capped, cylindrical container on one of the left counters somewhere away from you, much to your confusion. From the look of it, you think it’s a candle. How odd, but you presume whatever Gale has in store won’t be too terrible since they tend to like slow and steady, rather than vicious and painful. But if it’s just for décor, then why bring it suddenly now? Doctors here could probably have brought all kinds of things if they wanted, but they usually never do, or only use what’s available in the rooms. Maybe it’s a hassle for them to bring too much for every visit.

Gale, intrigued by your success in making it to the bed without help, smiles as they walk to the counter with the candle, uncap the thing, and light it by striking a match you hadn’t seen lying beside it—behind, from your perspective.

“You’re perfectly capable of figuring out these problems on your own,” they remark, promptly setting the lit candle back on the counter and leaving it alone for now. The sight of a flame against the white of the room is not quite as beautiful as it is in the dark, but you’d rather not linger on this thought since it immediately brings up some unpleasant memories.

“Despite that, you find it so easy to rely on others sometimes.”

“I’m learning,” you mumble back as you adjust yourself while seated on the side of the bed. The room has already started to just faintly smell of a sweet warmth, perhaps of a blend of vanilla and something else. You can hardly place it, though it’s certainly pleasant.

Once you’re still again, your eyes then shift back to Gale’s face. “And given what I’ve learned, I want to know whether you want to talk first, or fuck.”

Gale laughs politely. “Straightforward this time, I see. I’ll let you decide. But do remember I can’t tell you a lot of specific things, unless you happen to already know those things. I promised my superior that I’d behave. Or try to, anyway. You know how I am sometimes.”

“Is there a reason to be worried?” You ask. “There’s no cameras in here.” Since you aren’t sure how true everything Monica said is, you’re hoping Gale will make this answer more explicit for you by asserting this as a known fact. But as expected, they dodge you readily.

“Aren’t there?”

You huff. “Well, If it so pleases you, I’d prefer to prolong the inevitable. You can learn what you want off of me so long as I can learn what I want off of you.”

“But certainly not everything.”

“I guess not.” You accept the terms. “But will he know what we say?”

Gale moves to the room’s stool that’s been tucked in a corner, and brings it closer to your bedside. Without hesitation, they sit before you. “If I tell him.”

Again, your attempt at clarifying the issue of cameras in these rooms remains faulty. You suppose it’s pointless to peck further, though this leaves you with another problem. “Where do I even begin?”

“Anywhere you like, Ten,” Gale invites you calmly. Their smile has not faltered once. You watch as they calmly lay their hands, one over the other, in their lap. “You seem eager to open up a conversation, so I’ll leave it up to you where it begins.”

You frown a bit. “I guess for starters…what happened back there?”

“In my boss’ room, I assume?”

You nod, and Gale shakes their head a bit. “Ten, you saw what happened. No sense in reliving it.”

“But after?”

“After? My injuries were not so bad as to warrant any kind of procedural fix from our resident surgeon. Quite miraculous given how hard I was hit. However, I did require some attention from Lucius. All that happened was that I got fixed up, and went about my business.”

You’re not convinced. “Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that,” Gale nods. “Once I get on my superior’s bad side, I prefer not to stay on it for very long. I’ll visit it in short bursts, if anything, but he knows well that I do my best to be diligent, even if I stray sometimes for the sake of my own curiosity. It’s usually harmless things, but sometimes in moments like the one we had, it’s a problem. I guess you could say he puts up with me like others, but it’s not as hard for him to deal with me because I’m normally self-sufficient and don’t cause nearly as many problems as others. Besides, the man does find interest in my skills as I find interest in him, and neither of us can afford to leave the other behind right now, given what we reap from one another.”

“What are you hoping to gain from documenting this place, anyway?” You question. “What’s the point when it’s all supposed to be secretive, when you can’t even publish any kind of information about this operation? Even if you said it theoretically, someone could suspect that your details are a little too specific.”

Gale does not change their tone. You’re unable to read them no matter what you do to try changing their expression. “How insightful. You are correct that it’s not something I can publish now. I can’t really seek fame through my studies, but fame isn’t really what I want, nor is it something I’d ever gain working in this place. It’d be infamy, if anything.”

Your brows lower. “If not that, then what?”

“I told you before, I simply like to observe.”

“And then what about him? Why is he doing all this? For the same reason?”

Gale huffs a little, in a way that almost sounds like a meager laugh. “Ten, I can’t tell you that, nor can I easily piece together his motivations fully. I’m sharp, but certainly not a genius. As I’ve said, there’s much about him that’s lost even to me. Hidden from me. My boss only trusts Lucius, and he’s not one to budge any more than our superior is.”

Their head tilts slightly. “I presume he’s the one responsible for your injury?”

“You don’t have to play coy about it,” you mutter while instinctively flexing your foot once the acknowledgement leaves you self-aware of it. “You know well it’s his doing. You would have heard what I said, and seen him coming to my room.”

Gale doesn’t acknowledge the remark, but does give a light hum. “I do apologize that you have to go through this, but for someone like you who clings to life, it is better than being dead, isn’t it?”

You look away and pause a moment to drink in these words. You can’t really bring yourself to disagree, but don’t much want to verbalize it. Only after a brief silence do you press on without giving a direct answer. “Does pain make me stronger? Or weaker?”

“That depends on you. How are you taking it?”

You scowl a bit. “You’ve heard me say it enough, but I’m tired of being abused in all ways. I’m sick of the emotional exhaustion, of the fear, of being thrown around everywhere and hurt in every way possible. I can’t really tell you whether I’m stronger because of it. I have my doubts despite what I’ve overcome. But why me at all? Why do I have to be put through this?”

Gale shakes their head. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Ten. Things sometimes happen without reason, or unexpectedly. Though, you’re surprisingly resilient, like many of the members of your group.”

“Are they?” You remain unsure, even though doubting it is something you immediately regret. You have faith in your friends and their abilities to persevere, but they’re not all the same. Someone like Three is not comparable to Lav, and they have different strengths and weaknesses. “Some of them have become indifferent to the suffering as a means to avoid total self-destruction, but a few of them seem ready to break. You already know.”

“Even so, they’re doing much better than previous groups,” Gale tries to reassure you. “I can’t tell you much about them for obvious reasons, but many of the people before you, even when we made changes to this place and how we run it some time ago, did not fare very well in this environment—for obvious reasons, of course. But something is usually learned from each lost population of subjects, both by us doctors, and especially by you.”

“Something?” Your eyes shift over to Gale in curiosity. Gale simply nods.

“Every group’s loss, or every loss of its members, leaves its remaining members with new information. New realizations. Cyrus, for instance, realized how important it was to keep others together. He may not have been the first to realize this, but he is one of the few long-term survivors who attempted to diligently enforce the idea, especially after continually losing others to circumstances beyond his control. In doing so, he’s protected many of you from grim turnouts.

“Not him alone, of course. He’s not the only one in your group with the capacity toward guidance, though his own strategy differs from the rest. I simply think you’re all bouncing off one another in a rather interesting way. In doing so, you survive and keep your chins up. Even when there’s conflict, you find ways through it. I will say it’s sometimes not the healthiest way, but overall you seem to be doing well.”

You hold your arms. “They all had a lot of problems when I came.”

“And they had a lot more problems even before you came,” Gale notes. “If you mean to suggest it’s convenient that they started fixing a lot of issues when you arrived, it’s not solely because of you. Many conflicts tend to arise in these closed spaces, with how various personalities and responses can be to stressors in this environment. You’re quite lucky that your group happens to be more even-tempered. Other groups have not been so lucky.”

Your mind can’t help but foccus back to when you heard about the boy The Overseer captured, and how difficult he sounded to deal with. It's frightful to think that there could be someone troublesome, moreso than just in attitude, than even someone like Eight was. You couldn’t fathom another Number attacking someone in the same group as them, or turning against them in any way. But now that the idea is in your head, you’re curious.

“And what if there's someone who’s hard to reason with? Unchangeable? How have other groups handled that?”

“It depends,” says Gale. “Some have resorted to shunning or ignorance. Others have been driven to a breaking point with the stress these kinds of people brought on. It’s hard to reason with the stubborn, or perhaps even the violent. One immediate reaction beyond returned aggression, which doesn’t always help things, is to try appeasing them as a means to edge into that sense of reasoning. But like with aggression, this can still cause issues. Feeding an aggressive person’s desires for the sake of not stirring trouble may warrant trust, but not change. You could easily become a doormat for the stubborn by giving into them for the sake of seeming reasonable and trusting. Patience is important, but sometimes knowing when to walk away and return to something later is important too.”

They’re spouting all this while completely unaware of how much this applies to their relationship with The Overseer. The man’s not some unhinged violent psychopath, but he is certainly easily angered, and stubborn as a mule. Gale only accepts him to “stay on his good side”. They’re the ones submitting to avoid too much trouble while saying how much they respect a man who abuses them. They’re certainly not the only one, either. Is that not ironic? Convenient? You don’t know what the hell to call it.

“And what about the other prisoners?” You ask. Gale raises a brow.

“The ones before you?”

“I mean the Letters,” you clarify firmly. “And all the other groups. How many are there? Who the hell are the ‘Selects’ I heard your boss talk about? And what about the workers?”

Gale frowns a bit. “My, you’re asking quite a lot, Ten. I can’t tell you about those groups, really. Only that they exist, simply because you apparently already know that they do. They have nothing to do with you, though.”

“They’re all in different sectors, aren’t they? I remember hearing…” You trail off as you think on it.

“Yes, there are various sectors, but we’re not some giant conglomerate down here,” answers Gale calmly. “We have a few small groups by this point.”

“Did they used to be bigger?” You don’t try to hold back. “I saw that the hall here has rooms that go up to twenty.”

Gale then nods. “You have your answer, then. What you’ve been exposed to, whether or not I happen to know what that is, has given more information than you realize. I think you just struggle to piece things together. But yes, they’ve since been reduced.”

“…Why?”

“Various reasons.” Gale’s answer remains vague. “Plus, my superior is only one man. With how much he prefers to be tight knit about things given the controversial nature of this place, he couldn’t possibly manage hundreds of shady employees on top of hundreds of subjects, all while managing his work aboveground as well. He’s tried it already. I wasn’t here for a lot of the earlier days, but perhaps he once thought it was easier to take things on than it ended up being. Ambitious, I’d say. Unfortunately, even with the amount of people he’s reduced it to, he’s still quite stressed.

“Work aboveground is not equally as difficult for him to manage unless his appearance there is absolutely necessary, but this part of the facility is still a lot of work for all involved, especially since it’s an operation he heads with little close help. If it were more legal, perhaps it’d be easier to manage a huge population of workers and subjects alike. Some large companies, for example, might have a head and several subordinates in authoritative positions to help oversee the rest of the common workers. It could apply here if not for what this place is. The only ‘subordinates’ worthy of trust are few in number. Everyone else in all sectors beyond the few you know have a hand deeply embedded into affairs here are simply here to do a specific thing or set of things with limitations, in order to move this operation along.”

You’re bewildered, to say the least. “So, are there doctors I haven’t even met?”

“Well, yes. The doctors you know now simply don’t associate with them like they might have once before. Granted, we’ve also lost quite a lot of doctors to time and circumstance as well. Richard, for instance, is one of them. Regardless, some of the other doctors now oversee multiple people because of the large shrink in our population, not because they want to, but because they don’t have much of a choice..”

“I guess that makes sense,” you ponder. “I never really thought about the other doctors before, but Jay had said she had one. But that just leaves me confused! The other Numbers had once said that they remember visiting more than just the doctors I know now. Why are they suddenly separate? Since when?”

“I won’t say why,” Gale calmly refuses. “But I will tell you that your sector is currently the primary one. It’s why most of the doctors in it are so necessary to the operation here. The few that aren’t quite as needed for the work within the operation and who can be easily replaced are mostly delegated to the other sectors.”

“And why don’t the doctors here in our sector have multiple prisoners like they supposedly used to?” You demand. “That hardly makes sense. Before I came, it sounded like a lot of things were much different.”

Gale shakes their head slightly. “It’s not hard to guess given what I’ve just said. With all the shrunken populations, operations got tighter. Since our sector has relatively important doctors, some, but not all of the other doctors with more expendability got saddled with having two people to care for, while the rest of us kept to one so that we could focus on our own work.”

They sigh a bit. “With some recent subtractions, of course, things have gotten changed up over there again.”

Jay is the only other person you can say with certainty is being referenced. If any other Letters died, you surely wouldn’t have known. You can hardly imagine what turmoil that group, however large or small it may be, is going through if there was even more loss. But to think that the deaths are happening away from your group is both relieving and terrifying all the same. It embeds guilt in your heart even when you’re not at fault for anything. You just want to be happy your family has managed to stay safe.

“With how small our population has become lately, my group can’t afford to keep two numbers anymore,” Gale goes on. “Perhaps a few people could, but many of us who have free time already fill that time one way or another, either with other kinds of work here, or their own affairs. In any case, yes, there are more people here, but they’re of no consequence to you. They’re a little more expendable, really.”

“Like Jade’s doctor?” You question unhappily.

Gale gives a light nod. “Yes, that’s right. We had many doctors intermixed between sectors at one point, but things changed. That’s all. Things often change here.”

You frown. “Are the other groups also as insignificant as their doctors?”

Gale does not budge. “Who’s to say? If they are, would that make you lucky, or unlucky?”

“But you see them too, don’t you?” you wager. Their dodging of some questions frustrates you, but it’s expected now. Gale smiles, despite your forward observation.

“Yes, I do.”

You then sigh. This is going in both many and no directions at once. You’re not really even sure how this information can be of use to you. If anything, it only raises more questions, ones you’re sure Gale won’t answer. That always seems to be the way things go when you talk to doctors.

Maybe you’re glad you don’t have to deal with even more doctors. The ones you’ve met are enough. You’ve been messed up enough for a lifetime at this rate, but you figure there’s still more to come. God, you don’t look forward to it.

After a brief pause, you try to move back to a prior point of conversation, if only for the sake of keeping your thoughts away from the worst.

“You said something about companies and their workers—Is that what it’s like aboveground?” You ask. “Yosuke has said so many things about it before, but I never know what’s really true or not. Are there normal workers up there? Ones that don’t even know all this exists?”

Gale brings a thumb to their bottom lip and bites at their nail in thought, icy eyes pointed down as they contemplate whether to divulge this information. If they’ve refused you this question before, they seem to agree now for some reason.

“Yes, it is that way. What we have aboveground is supposed to seem normal, after all. It’s run normally. But I mostly trifle with affairs down here. As you can imagine, it is rather busy down here, so I don’t work up there like others sometimes do.”

“’Run normally’? What does that mean?”

“That’s all I’ll tell you about it. Saying we’re some kind of legal facility surfaced above an underground, illegal operation is…vague. Certainly enough not to be substantial. It’s probably why Yosuke said what he did.”

You open your mouth to speak again, but Gale relents. “And before you ask why I won’t go in depth in general, it’s primarily because my superior has the preference of privacy. He wants to keep you separate from his other work. Or perhaps he’d rather not have wild ideas of the outside come to your heads when he wants you focused only on your lack of memory, and on the things we let you have in your prison.”

“Other work?” You find yourself quite offended by the idea. “So is this all just some fun side job for him? An experiment he does on his off time?!” “I know we’re already insignificant to him, but to just be these playthings for such a sadistic-“

“It’s not quite like that,” Gale interrupts you, dropping their hand again. “Don’t let your mind run needlessly. My superior is quite the busy man since he has to juggle affairs both up there and down here, but he really does prefer his work here, I’ve found. He gets to be the man he wants to be, rather than the man he’s expected to. At least I think that’s the case. I could be wrong since I’m missing so much information about him. But as for us, we essentially hold things down here, and he makes sure we don’t act up while still conducting his other affairs. If even Lucius gets too busy to head things, then someone else my superior can at least trust to keep this place from going up in flames will help do so. That’s all quite obvious, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” Your voice lowers. “But why does he like this? This killing, this terrible robbing of lives? We were people before this. We still are.”

“I can’t much say,” Gale sighs. “My only observations of him are that he’s a very cold man when he wants to be. I suspect he’s been through quite a lot. With family, with social affairs, maybe even within himself. But far be it from me to ask. He hates talking about his life.”

“So I’m at a loss, then? I can’t get anything else out of you about him or this place?”

“It’s best we move on from the subject,” Gale suggests agreeably. “Ask something else, if you like.”

How bothersome, but you don’t waste the chance to keep going. “Alright. Then, what about the doctors? Can you tell me anything about them?”

Gale hums in thought. “I wish I could, Ten. But you got in trouble for just asking what Sven and Jude do. Perhaps it’s best I leave that alone.”

“I’ll get in trouble for knowing about the outside too,” you assert. “And about the other sectors. Why did you tell me that if you won’t even-“

Gale smiles as they cut you off. “I chose to, as a favor. I do feel quite bad you had to go through what you did. But I left out quite a lot of things too.”

“Can you at least tell me if what I know about them is correct?”

“I suppose. But why would you know anything at all?”

You gulp a bit. You’d forgotten what Yosuke told you wasn’t supposed to be repeated. Plus, you were never supposed to hear anything about Lilah and Milos, but you wound up hearing a lot about them because Gale didn’t put you out when they should have. But despite the evident worry, Gale apparently promises not to get you in trouble on purpose.

“Tell me what you can,” they instruct. “I won’t elaborate much, but I’ll at least affirm things for you. I can’t help what you already know, after all.”

“Well…Mom’s been here almost the longest, and sometimes she works with Micah, right?”

“Correct.”

“Milos and Lilah had history together once. I heard that much when I was in your boss’ room.”

“Yes.”

You frown. “And Milos and Lucius used to work together?”

Gale gives a look of slight surprise. “My, you know more than I thought. Yes, they did. But Lucius has been in charge of most things lately, as you can tell.”

“Because Milos is an irresponsible drunk?” You bitterly suppose. Gale smiles a bit to themself.

“Well, he can be a bit mischievous and aloof at times, but he’s still important to this place. When he feels like it, he’s quite reliable. But perhaps he thinks he’s old enough to deserve to do as he pleases. No doubt you must know how little my superior likes that, especially when he can’t totally stop it.”

“No kidding,” you grumble. “I overheard him spitting rude words about Milos for not showing up to kidnap someone.”

“Oh? Sounds like our Milos. Like I said, he can be a bit difficult, but I still think he’s a decent enough man at times.”

“That sounds like the same excuse you use for your boss.” You don’t hold back on the chance to verbalize your earlier observation, but Gale remains unphased.

“I do admire the man,” they nod. “I’ve told you that much already. I see no reason for your attempt to shame me for it.”

“He hurts you. I saw him hurt you. Why would you admire a man like that?”

“I’ve said we have similarities,” is all Gale says. Their icy eyes remain on you. “Ten, please don’t try to make sense of it. It’s fairly complicated. But you should understand in some way what it’s like to attach to someone even when they’re cruel. Need I remind you of your words about Yosuke in your earlier days here?”

You let out a huff of breath at the reminder. You once almost gave into your doctor, almost fell for his tricks. But in the end, you were far too stubborn, and he was far too pushy.

Maybe even Gale can’t tell why they lean in favor of their boss. Being able to see so much in others and still be blind to one’s own tendencies isn’t particularly strange, you guess.

In the end, you opt to brush this aside without acknowledging it further. “Fine. And what about Milos and Lilah, then? What happened there?”

“Even I don’t know a lot about it,” Gale shrugs. “I did come here a little while after all this began, after all. There’s a lot of things that went on prior I don’t know about. Lilah is a stubborn woman, and she won’t really open up to just anyone about her life and her feelings. But it seems she is a bit soft on Milos because of whatever they once had. Not particularly amorous, but definitely close.”

“Do you at least know why her and Mom hate each other? Or for that matter, why Sven and Micah do?”

Gale chuckles. “Ten, we’re not a perfect group. We have our differences much like you do. Do you fully like all your friends?”

This takes you aback. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“Well, that’s just it, Ten. We’re not all friends,” Gale remarks as if it were obvious. “You suffer together, so perhaps it’s easier to connect because of that common ground. We aren’t all equal here. Have you not noticed?”

“I have,” you admit while scrunching up your brows a bit. “Your boss plays favorites.”

“It’s not simply that. We have more freedom to be as we like compared to you. You all make connections based on the suffering you have in common. Because we are from varied backgrounds, and because we don’t have any sort of common ground, many of my coworkers don’t have much to do with one another. There aren’t many connections to be made except in our work, unless we’ve had some prior history with one another or have some similarities that help us connect. You’ve come to see quite clearly that some of us don’t get along, while the rest of us do even if it’s to a small degree

“I’d like to think that we can afford not to fully like each other, and that makes it easier to be spiteful or biting. We do our own things, and follow our own paths with the only stable commonality between us being working here, and putting up with our boss and Lucius. You can’t afford to squabble or harbor hatred toward one another, because you need that connection and that closeness to keep your heads above the water. Us doctors can survive without it. We have our work to keep us occupied.”

They privately smile to themself over a thought.

“I love the people I associate with dearly. Nathaniel and Jonathan are my closest companions here. I admire and enjoy talking with some of the others, but I can hardly say we’re super close. The rest are simply coworkers. We have to work together, but we probably would never be good friends. And when you’re out in the real world, sometimes it’s hard to be that close with people. Especially when you’re older. With some variety in circumstance, many of your earlier relationships will be the ones you stick with, provided you maintain them over the course of time.”

“I assume you’re going to say I’m lucky to have friends like mine,” you mutter. Gale shakes their head.

“You aren’t lucky to be here, Ten. This isn’t a good place to be. But you are lucky to have found love and solidarity in a place that usually doesn’t allow for it. You and your group have persisted here. I’m quite fascinated by that.”

You want to ask again why they stay in this place when it’s so terrible. Why help The Overseer with any of this? But such questions are pointless when you’ll simply be deflected over and over, no matter what. Rather than linger on your frustrations, you move back to talking about the other doctors. You hardly even acknowledge what you think might be a compliment from Gale, simply because you don’t find their words, as a willing contributor to this place, always valuable. They’re not happy for you, they’re curious to know why you’re faring so well. They want to study you. The only difference now from last time you two talked is that you’re letting them in willingly, in exchange for something you want. You’ll wind up doing the same for Monica.

“About the other doctors…” you push on, away from this. Perhaps thinking about Monica got you on the subject of the one who once despised her. “Does Mom ever get sad?”

Gale raises a brow. “What brought that on?”

“I thought about it recently. She’s always crazy, but I never see more of her than that.”

“Momma’s still a person with her own feelings. She hurts too, you know. But she likes to avoid acknowledging that. She prefers to be chipper.”

“Like Monica?”

Gale smiles. “Very much so. I think that even though Monica’s trying to get in Momma's good graces, she does have a lot in common with her too, and that’s why they’re able to get along. Momma’s initial hatred of her mainly stemmed from jealousy. I suspect that’s partly the same case with her feelings toward the much younger Lilah.”

You look down. “Yosuke suggested the same thing for her beef with Monica. I don’t see the need for jealousy though.”

“Momma’s complicated,” Gale sighs. “I think everyone has their demons, really. All of us are capable of very sour feelings, even if some of us try to be open towards people. We can’t all get along.”

They then laugh a bit. “Speaking of Monica, I heard you had a visit with her. With everything going on, you ended up being one of the last to really pair with her. How did that go?”

Your heart skips a beat a moment at the sudden question, but you try to remain inconspicuous.

“Monica was weird,” you say. “I guess harmless, but I see why her Number was so hesitant to talk about her interests.”

“It’s no stranger than most things you’ve been exposed to. I suppose it’s a little more intimate than the usual visits you’ve had. But I wagered you liked intimacy.”

“Not like that,” you blush. “Not with her.”

You then look up at Gale. “Is she at least okay?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“She seems eager to please everyone and it’s weird for me to meet a doctor like that,” you admit in your attempt to elaborate. Though, it’s partly just a method of recovering from a potential ill-interpretation. “I’m used to everyone taking what they want from me. I’m not used to someone like her being so genuinely, I dunno, nice?”

“Aren’t I nice?” Gale feigns offense casually. “But yes, she is a rather sweet woman. It’s refreshing. She seems grounded compared to some of the others despite her bubbly attitude, but I suppose it’s because she’s so new.”

“That’s what worries me,” you admit. “I’m afraid that she’ll eventually just become as wicked as people like Mom, that she’ll get used to being terrible to a point that she’ll lose that kindness, or only pretend to still have it.”

“You seem to speak highly of her,” Gale notes curiously, cocking up a brow just slightly. “I thought you hated all doctors here?”

“I hate what you’re a part of. I especially hate the bunch of your coworkers who are openly sadistic and careless. But people like you at least won’t be hurtful on purpose. That’s as far as I’ll go with any kind of compliment.”

Gale says nothing and watches you for a moment. It’s uncomfortable how quietly hawkish their gaze is.

“Why does your boss hate her?” You try to fill in the silence. “Why does he treat her the way he does? He forgives people like you, Lilah, and Mom so much for acting out, but when I heard him talk to Monica, or about her, he was so crude. I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Gale supposes, shrugging. “He might also just not trust her very much because she’s new.”

“But he has to trust people before he brings them to work here, doesn’t he?”

“Does he?” Gale questions this idea, but you aren’t sure if they’re playing with you, or genuinely contemplating it. “Hm. I wouldn’t know. I’m sure he prefers it that way, but from what I’ve observed, there’s not very many people in this world he feels he can trust. Sometimes he has to find what he can get.”

They smile again and move the conversation away from The Overseer. “Monica’s pretty talkative, you know. I’m sure she chatted with you for a while like this. She’s talked my ear off a few times too.”

You remain on edge, but keep talking normally. “She seemed really happy to finally visit me, since I was the only one she hadn't seen.”

“Mm. Did things go over well after everything that happened when you met with her those two times?”

“It wasn’t terrible, I suppose,” you try to be honest about that much. “Monica’s just…chipper.”

Gale nods knowingly. “Monica’s luckily not so bad at what she does, but she often says more than she should and winds up getting reprimanded harshly.”

You shrug. “She did sort of get snapped at by her boss when I saw her back then, from what she told me on our second meeting. And when I saw him talk to her, she was frightened, and he was really rude to her. But he’s also spoken ill of people like Mom, too.”

Gale’s eyes close as they assess your words. “Yes. I feel a bit sorry for her.”

“Who?”

“Both of them, really. However, Momma’s been trained to his ways and no longer finds it hard to deal with. Monica, however?” Gale opens their eyes again. “She’s probably the most sensitive of our sector because she’s fresh here. But her strategy of coping with the treatment seems to be latching onto others. She’s eager to please.”

You frown. “I noticed.”

Gale looks at you, still calm even now. It’s annoying how little you can read from them. “Monica should be more careful. But so should you.”

This, you can’t help but react to just slightly. Your jaw partly drops as the words strike you, as if damning evidence of your faults have just been handed over. You try to keep composed again, but Gale does not really buy it.

“If it’s easier, I’ll be blunt—I’ve reason to believe that you two might have spoken about things you shouldn’t,” Gale finally admits, answering the unnerved question in your eyes. “I don’t know quite what, but it’s not hard to figure out. You’re not very good at hiding from me, plus there were already strings of attachment between you two after the kinds of talks you did have. It’s easy to put the pieces together.”

You remain lockjawed in your stunned state, but Gale attempts to be reassuring. “I won’t tell him, Ten. I just want you to be more careful.”

After the brief assuaging statement, you finally force yourself to respond. You want to know something, and if Gale is willing, you might just get your assurance. “What she told me…was it true?”

“Am I expected to guess what that was?” Gale raises a brow. “I’m no mind reader. But, judging by what I know of her, by what I know she’s said to you in the past when reviewing feeds, and by your reaction, I’d say it was fairly important. You wouldn’t be in the slightest bit of panic if it weren’t.”

You look away and don’t really hide this fact. “It was. If you know what was said, then at least tell me if it was true, like you have with all the things you’ve affirmed for me that I’ve learned. I need to know. Please.”

“You’re afraid of the consequences of being wrong about your judgement,” Gale notes. “You don’t know whether to trust her, do you?”

“I…” You hesitate. “No, I don’t. As it is, I don’t even know if I can fully trust you. I’ve made that clear. I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore, but...”

“I won’t throw you under the bus needlessly,” Gale tries to be reassuring, giving a slight shake of their head. “But I need you to place a little trust in me now because I can’t help you otherwise. Tell me what it is she said, and I will tell you if it’s true. I won’t repeat it to anyone.”

Your brows lower. “I don’t know whether that’s a good idea.”

“And how can I convince you it’s safe to? Gale remarks curiously. “You seem adamant in your stubborn beliefs. You’ve always been fairly resistant and hesitant, but this is a special kind of wariness, I find. No doubt fostered by some fairly recent strings of bad experiences.”

“Something like that,” you don’t deny this, muttering. Gale sighs a bit.

“I have a weakness for certain kinds of girls,” they admit, almost under their breath. “I won’t lie and say this isn’t out of some curiosity to see where things go, but I am fond of you too, Ten. And I’d do quite the same for my Number as I’d do for you. So believe me when I say I’ll protect you where I can, even if it is primarily out of interest. I have already done so once before, and so I will again. But I can’t be the one putting myself on the line again after a bad hiccup. I simply can’t shatter the faith my superior has in me because his respect is important to me.”

You blush as Gale’s hand reaches over to cup your cheek.

“I promise not to tell him a thing.”

You don’t budge, and instead look at Gale directly. “Tell me something damning that could only have come from you.”

Gale tilts their head a bit and sits back again, their hand leaving your flesh and returning to their lap. “Hm?”

“I want the assurance. If you lie to me, I’ll bring you down too.” You remain firm. Gale smiles.

“I suppose that’s a fair exchange,” they wager, again biting their thumbnail. They seem confident. “In exchange for your word, I will give you mine.”

“You first.” You try to keep this upper hand, even if it might be a false one. Gale could easily be letting things slide willingly, but you don’t care.

Gale’s eyes close a moment, while they try to think on what exactly to tell you. Eventually, they begin.

“I suppose the only truly damning thing I alone would know is how my superior and I got acquainted,” they figure. “He approached me long ago when I was working elsewhere, pretending to be someone else—a client. How he found me, I don’t know, but he kept up with his game of pretend for a while with regular visitations. We chatted quite a lot, in fact. He left himself at my mercy, but some of the stories he told me were clearly fabricated ones to fit whatever character he was playing. I saw through his façade rather quickly because something seemed off about him from the start, but I played along out of curiosity and in the hopes of reading him, until I could no longer help but admit I knew he wasn’t who he said. I wanted to know the truth, and to know why he approached me at all. Only when I pressed him about it did he really show his true colors.

“He complimented my reading of him, and my expertise. Said he’d started looking into me and my work, which I found jarring and uncomfortable, to say the least. I’d published a few papers before, and gotten some recognition through my studies and collaborative works, but I never expected anyone to pay much attention to me. But he did. He’d been fascinated by my cognitive studies, but saw virtue in me beyond just that facet of my knowledge, especially after I correctly guessed he was seeing me for some other reason.

“Stranger still, he knew I wasn’t fully happy where I was and that I wasn’t quite the kind of person I pretended to be for others. Where I was, people like me were only tolerated, not fully accepted. I hadn’t yet been fortunate enough to be in a workplace more accepting than mine. Perhaps he knew of this through private prying since he was hardly the kind to read the emotions of others, but him mentioning that was something I was prepared to be offended by. Yet, rather than be critical or judgmental, he reassured me. Once his façade was over, his words were blunt, but their meaning was gentle. Understanding.”

Their lip curves into a slight smile at the thought. “My superior seemed honest at first. Willing to work with me. He offered me a job, but I initially refused because he wasn’t being elaborate about his work, which I found worrisome. Perhaps back then I was confused about it all, and a bit cautious given what was at stake for me. At first, he hesitated, but he eventually did tell me a small bit about what was on the table—evidently divulging it all at once would have been dangerous for him if I had decided to turn him in for it. I was shocked, to say the least. And in my shock, my immediate answer was no. I refused, because I had no idea how any of it would work, nor what to expect, and I felt that attaching myself to this place would be terrible and ruin what little reputation I did have. But that was an answer he didn’t want to hear. The offer he posed was only a ruse, because it seemed once he decided he wanted me, he wasn’t going to let me go.

“My superior didn’t necessarily kidnap me, like you once suggested. I was never taken kicking and screaming like one of his prisoners. I was calm, despite everything. All he did was present his ultimatum after my refusal. Lucius was summoned in the room, without me ever knowing he’d been there waiting. My first time meeting him was with a gun in his hand, and when I saw him, I realized what kind of man my superior was: commanding and cold.

“His earlier act completely melted away. He kept an inexpressive face even when he told me I could either die where I stand, or come work for him. I was left in shock, and as I stood there, I couldn’t discern whether his kinder words earlier were a ruse. But when I thought about it, he wasn’t dishonest. He lied about who he was, but I could tell his other words toward me were genuine. Plus, he certainly wasn’t unfair. He listened to me when I spoke, heard what I had to say even after he’d threatened me. And all throughout, he watched me closely, the way I watch others.”

Gale looks down, thinking on something while still giving off their subtle smile. “I’m not sure exactly what drew me to him, perhaps my want to understand him and why he was this way, or the enticing offers he made me. but even in that moment and despite the threat, I was just so intrigued by this person before me. And in my intrigue of him, I followed. I let him coerce me with the things that fascinated me, and with the chance to be myself, limitlessly. He offered me a playground, and I in turn allowed myself to work for him. I wasn’t sure about it all at first, but I realized quickly the position I was in. Though, to be frank, I wasn’t exactly clinging to my previous life. After hopping between clinics and small roles, the job I was in was one of my first rather important ones that I really didn’t want to lose so suddenly, and at first, I refused to let it go. But in the end, I had nothing to lose in accepting but my life. I had a place waiting for me, and so I decided to be a part of it. When I thought it over, it was hardly much of a choice, in both senses of the phrase.”

Your eyes widen. “You were threatened?” Maybe it’s an obvious thing to say, but you’re so at a loss for words that it’s all you can muster after Gale’s intimate recounting of the experience.

“Yes, but strangely, I expected something might happen,” Gale laughs, much to your unease. They’re reminiscing this as if it were a funny little memory, not a traumatic experience. But were they really fucked up by it to begin with? It’s hard to tell. How they’re reacting and how they should be are unequal.

Gale continues. “I didn’t know what might happen then, but I knew I could potentially be in danger the moment I realized he was lying. I was fairly put off by the words he said and by the nature of this place, but I eventually accepted things as they came. I suppose I could have put up more of a fight, but I never was much the confrontational type. He threatened me, and I let him. I went with the flow of things, and as a result, I’m here.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You let him do that to you? You’re just okay with all this?”

Gale nods. “I had my doubts at first, of course. But I’ve accepted it. Maybe because it was easy, I was always a bad person. In fact, I fought with myself about it a few times. Was I always like this? Was it a part of me I always stifled? I don’t quite know, but I made my choice. Even if I wasn’t really given one, if I really didn’t want to follow him, I would have died long ago. I would have refused a second time and let him kill me for the sake of my beliefs against such an operation. But he was always so fascinating to me, and getting to study a place like this while observing him on the side was even more fascinating. Although, even now, I still can’t figure him out sometimes. Someone mysterious to even me—It’s riveting.”

Despite how absolutely bewildered you are about all this, you don’t hesitate to keep pecking. “Have any others been threatened like that?”

“I’m sure,” Gale says, though you worry they’re speaking uncertainly. “I don’t entirely know of the people before me, but I know that it has differed with everyone after me. No doubt there’s some who signed on rather quickly. But not everyone has shared their story, really. Some people are more private about it than others. I certainly was.”

“Who came here before you, and after?” You can’t help but ask, but Gale shakes their head in response.

“Ten, that’s enough. Now, it’s your turn. I confided in you something exclusive to me, quite in detail so you had enough to use against me if necessary. I’m confiding that information to you. Now, I ask you to be honest about what I requested. I trust you to keep your end of things, so please do so.”

You’re taken aback by how easily Gale’s moving on from this. Were you in their shoes, you’d be just as afraid as you were when The Overseer threatened you with his revolver. How can anyone stare death in the face so readily? Gale’s hardly the hardened type. They must be prone to fear too. If not now, then once before all this.

“Ten, we don’t have forever in this room,” You’re reminded when you take too long to answer. Gale’s smile relents. “I’d like to have my time with you physically, too.”

You frown. “I-I…Well…” It’s hard to really move on from being told something like this, but you try to anyway. “Monica said she doesn’t remember a lot about her life. She said her memory is fractured, though she thinks maybe she used to work here before because of her intuition—she keeps wanting to go down halls her boss says she doesn’t need to, for example. And, on that note, she thinks that your boss had something to do with why she can’t remember a lot about her life just before this. He refused to listen to her about her issues, falsified paperwork to make her think she was just having memory problems after some accident…I don’t know. I’m sorry my explanation isn’t as thorough as yours, but that’s the gist of it. If you know this to be true, it’s hardly worth repeating it to you in detail anyway, right?”

“Fair enough,” the doctor agrees.

Your brows lower. “So tell me, then. Was that all correct?”

Gale exhales through their nose and bites their thumbnail again, considering this a moment. You wait in a long, agonizing silence as they parse through their thoughts, hands gripping the metal edge of the bed tightly, knuckles white.

“She was telling the truth,” Gale finally speaks up, leaving you to let out a huff of astonished breath, as if you’d been holding it for a long time. “You can trust her, Ten. Do with that information what you will.”

Your heart jumps at the affirmation, though you refuse to lose focus. “Do the other doctors know, then?”

“Not all of them.” After another brief silence, Gale then laughs a bit to themself, their hand raising up to their cheek. “Goodness, my superior would be quite cross with me now. I said I wouldn’t betray the man and here I am doing precisely that. I am a bit weak for you girls.”

“I don’t take you as someone who just ‘messes up’,” you remain wary. However, Gale refuses the idea.

“I make mistakes too. Am I some shining Adonis of perfection?”

“I mean I once thought your appearance was…different,” you admit with reddening cheeks. When Gale’s brow raises a bit, you try to reassure them. “A good different, I mean. And it turns out you really are different. You treat me differently. Unfortunately, it’s for the same reasons that everyone else treats me as they do. You want something, and that’s why it’s hard for me to let my walls down fully around you. But you’re not as ruthless about getting what you want from me. You’re not so cruel, not really. I can at least attest to that.”

“Different…” Gale frowns a bit as their hand drops. They don’t much acknowledge the other remarks, much to your surprise. “I’ve been told that many times. I’ve always been in the background, but some moments left me the center of attention for reasons I hated. So, once I rejected such a label. I wanted to be the same as others because I found standing out stressful. I don’t care for attention. Hard to believe, looking back on it.”

They sigh a bit. “Well, being different has made me perceptive, I suppose.”

“Is being different so great?” You wonder aloud. “I want nothing more than to be left alone. Everyone gives me too much attention. I don’t mind it from my family, but I hate it from the doctors.”

Gale doesn’t much seem to know how else to respond to this, oddly. You’ve never much known them to be at a loss for words, but the silence leaves your mind to run further. Your heart sinks when another thought crawls through. “By the way, I do have another worry. If the fact that Monica said anything is that obvious to you, wouldn’t it be that obvious to your boss too? Couldn’t he potentially know?”

“Hm?” You catch Gale shaking from a thought. Not once have you seen them this distracted. “Well, yes, he might. It’s certainly a possibility.”

“So then why did he let me see her?” You demand, voice rising in a panic at this affirmation. “If he didn’t want that to happen and he knew she was susceptible to blabbing secrets to me, especially after all that talking during my confinement…“

“That’s one thing I can’t quite understand,” Gale picks up when you trail off. “Even I’m a little confused. Sometimes my boss is so wound tight that he stumps even those close to him. Even Lucius. Perhaps this is one of those instances, but far be it from me to ask blatantly.”

You’re aware of that much, given how Lucius has responded to The Overseer making sudden decisions on his own before. You then look up at Gale with worry. “Has he given up?”

“He’s not the type to,” Gale refuses this idea calmly. “Or, I’ve never read him to be that way. He’s always been so adamant on having his way. He strongly dislikes being crossed.”

“I just don’t understand it,” You scoff in disbelief. “He gets upset over me learning things he’d rather I not know, yet he didn’t kill me back when he had the chance. He let me live after Jay and after what happened with you. He even let me hold his gun—I can’t fathom why! I don’t know what he wants from me!”

You look up at Gale in disbelief. “I-is he avoiding it? Is he protecting me? Is there some reason he wants me alive?”

Gale’s brows raise a bit. “Protecting you? I can’t imagine he’d ever protect those of you who he sees simply as subjects, unless there’s a reason to keep you around. It’s hardly noteworthy to say that it’s usually because they’re valuable to his work. Long-time survivors of his experiments were never all that plentiful before.”

You suppose that’s why Cyrus and the others are still here. Nonetheless, you stay focused.

“Why am I alive, then? They both kept telling me I’m not special, and then they constantly do all this to me, or for me, or whatever else. I keep living in fear of what they might do because they’ve done nothing but horrify and threaten me. I’ve seen how they are, and what they’re capable of. I’m afraid! But should I be?“

“Of course you should,” Gale responds bluntly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, and certainly don’t assume you’re exempt from danger. I told you to be more careful. Even if he is interested in you for any reason, that doesn’t mean you aren’t replaceable.”

“That’s not good enough!” you refuse. “If he’d known about Monica, then that means he’s absolutely letting it fly, so that’d mean I’m right.”

“That’s a bold assumption, you know,” Gale warns. “He might still not know. Do be smarter about this. Perhaps what you say is possible, but even if he wanted you alive, he could still decide to torture you. And it’s equally as possible that he’s baiting you into slipping up, or that he fully intends to hurt you soon without you ever even knowing. He could kill you tomorrow, and you should always live as if that were a fact.”

You freeze. These are words just earlier you had been living by. You wanted to be careful, you wanted to be smarter. But here you are, digging where you think it’s safe to.

Cyrus wanted you all to be careful, to lay low. Are you betraying him and everyone else by doing the opposite? You just came back and patched things through with most everyone. Everything was finally starting to look up, but maybe it was pointless to raise your hopes.

No.

That’s not a good way to think about it. You can’t be blamed for trying. The right answer on what to do all depends on what your end goal is, but you want so much that it just completely complicates what it is you should do. Staying quiet would keep you safe, but fighting as hard as you have for answers has given you quite a lot. And now, you’ve been thinking so much about leaving this place. Maybe that’s not practical, but neither is dying here.

Remembering Cyrus’ words today, his grievances and his fear of dying alone…you don’t want that for him or anyone. But staying here will most certainly guarantee a miserable end. Cyrus either has chosen to ignore that fact, or else he’s made his decision swallowing that.

After all the tension, you finally relax and let yourself exhale slowly. “I just don’t know what to think. I’m still afraid no matter what.”

Mindlessly, your hand grazes your lower abdomen. “There’s a lot to fear, other than just him. But I keep pressing for things because I’m stubborn, even when I know I should be afraid. I can’t stop myself. Plus, in the end, I’m already on that man’s radar. Him and Lucius both, although Lucius is the one who sees me as a toy to break while your boss has his own reasons for what he does. I just can’t escape it. I know I’ll die here, but I don’t want to accept that. I want to know why I’m here, who I am…”

“You aren’t the first person to want that,” Gale reminds you calmly. “You are not the first person to have tried to find a way out of this misery, either.”

“Jay tried to escape,” you mumble in response, as if answering a question that wasn’t really asked. “Whether or not there were others before her, there will still be people who will try.”

Gale goes quiet for a moment. Despite the atmosphere in the room, they soon give a sparse, curious smile. “Will you?”

You pause and think over the question. Mom had once tried to goad you into running, and you can’t help but wonder if this is the same kind of invitation with a different face. Examining Gale, you can only think they’d have a lot to gain watching you reach such a desperate point that you’d attempt to take off. You’ve been running so much more in your dreams lately, but none of the outcomes of those dreams were particularly happy. It’s highly likely those dreams would be reality if you really tried to run.

You wind up scowling a bit after assessing this. Rather than keep lingering on the pessimistic view of such a subject, you focus your attention back to Gale. “Like I’d say it to you. You laid out your attachments to this place just a moment ago, and once before too. You have something to lose here. If I were to jeopardize it, you’d try to stop me.”

Gale’s subtle smile does not falter. “You’ve got quite the imagination, but you’re also quite perceptive sometimes.”

“Don’t patronize me!” You let your voice raise more than you intended, but don’t at all try to take anything back. Gale hardly budges.

“It’s a backhanded compliment, really. I mean to say you’re usually quick to make assumptions. You’re hasty because you’re desperate for answers. However, you sometimes hit the mark. You assume correctly that I’d be dissatisfied losing this place for many reasons, but I also wouldn’t stop you if that’s something you chose.”

Your face softens a bit, and the tension in your hands and teeth eases up. “Why?”

“Because I’m not desperate,” Gale says confidently. “I have witnessed a few escape attempts, and have done little more than report them as expected, since not doing so would expose me as ill-compliant when it’s clear where my posts are, and that I could clearly see it happening. I would never really stop anyone if they were so desperate to leave that they found a way to do it. Only, nobody has ever really succeeded, and I wind up back in my routine no matter what.”

“Do you want to get out of it?”

“You think that I want to be saved?” Gale seems intrigued by the notion. “I guess it makes sense you’d jump to that conclusion when you think people react the same way you do to stressful things. You think anyone would want to leave such a place as this when it’s so terrible. Had you asked me that long ago, maybe I’d have said yes. But now, I’m content here. I accept the low points for the sake of self-indulgence.”

They look up in thought. “Really, there aren’t many people who would give this place up when it gives so many benefits. Everyone has their doubts, makes their complaints, et cetera. But in the end, they settle, because they know what they have. I’d say there are a select few who would want to leave, and Monica is certainly one of those people. She never even really wanted to be here in the first place.”

“Not even back before all this?” You inquire, eyes widening. “You mean before she lost her memory, right?”

Gale raises their hand just a bit in warning, as if urging you to slow down. “Yes. She never liked it here. No benefits outshined her moral compass. She forced herself to tolerate it all for a few reasons.”

You realize it then. “She was threatened too.”

Gale nods. “Good girl, you’ve got it. Now, I’ve given you more than enough answers, Ten. You see? I’m not so bad. You ask that I not patronize you, and I don’t intend to.”

Their lips cock into a rather subtle smirk. “But you shouldn’t patronize me either, kitten.”

Your eyes shift away. You figured things would get cut off eventually. “Okay, I get it.”

Gale giggles boyishly and finally rises from their stool, moving to approach you. You hardly move as they lean down, hands briefly pressed atop your shoulders, to kiss your mouth sweetly.

“Now, I’ve been patient, but you still owe me the time I came for,” they murmur after pulling away. “Besides, you could do with some kind of relief from all that stressful talk. Just for the bit of time we have left. It might help.”

“If that’s your way of shutting down the conversation, then fine.” You’re annoyed, yet your voice is strangely calm. It’s not preferential, but keeping the conversation going is pointless now. Gale did give you more than enough information than you ever expected, at least. You’re still not sure how to process all of it, but are no stranger to such shocking news by now. You also figured some of the doctors were negatively affected by this place—that part is hardly surprising. But what bothers you is that Gale really seems okay with it all now. If ever they resisted it, you sure can’t tell.

“What do you want?”

Gale gives a subtle smile. “You know what I like. I may have to make you a little uncomfortable again, but of course, we can save that for last. I’d like to make you feel good too. I always like to.”

You look down. “You can just take what you want like most people. It might make things shorter.”

This seems to intrigue Gale, who studies your expression with their head tilted a bit. “You won’t fight?”

When you say nothing, Gale’s sweet hand grazes your chin, and they tip your head up carefully. “Many of the doctors here like the theatrics and harsh physical acts necessary to elicit such strong reactions out of you all. I have said before I’m capable of being rougher if I need to be. My mood for certain acts does shift, but you’re a soft and sweet thing. I’d like you to be comfortable with me, kitten. So please don’t be down on yourself. I’d rather you not act in here the way you did back in that room. And I know certainly that you don’t want to feel that way either.”

“No,” you agree. Gale plants a kiss on your forehead, and drops their hand. They then begin to roll their sleeves up just a bit further than usual until the cloth reaches their elbows.

“Good. You can start by undressing, you know.”

You begrudge their request while they go off toward the counter again. Scooting your body up just a bit so you can pull the hem of your gown up past your thighs and over the curvature of your butt isn’t so hard, and you’re able to undress one garment fairly smoothly. The other you hesitate on, but eventually do peel down and off your body as expected.

“You know,” you begin to stoke the fire one last time before all focus is left on your visit. “I know for sure now that there aren’t cameras here.”

“How do you figure?” Gale questions curiously from the counter. When you look over toward them, they’re holding the candle in their hand, leaving you quite unsettled.

“You wouldn’t have asked me what Monica talked to me about, because you would have already known. And, you wouldn’t have told me everything about your first encounter with The Overseer.”

“Overseer?” Gale repeats with a subtle, amused laugh. They then blow out some air, snuffing the candle’s flame out. A steady stream of white and grey wafts up from the once-lit wick, letting off a smoky aroma that eventually is overpowered by the lingering smell of the heated candle.

While mindlessly watching the wispy substance rise, you realize that you’ve never said the title The Overseer allotted you to anyone before. You wager it’s amusing to Gale since they know his real name. The doctor hardly lingers on this beyond a bare confirmation, though. “Hopefully knowing that satisfies you.”

Gale finally comes back toward you, candle in hand. The sight continues to leave you uneasy.

“What’s that for?”

Your white-haired visitor does not bother to answer just yet, and they smile while using their free hand to point politely at the bed. “Lay down, kitten. On your tummy.”

You blush with embarrassment at the sweeter tone, but obey and shift your body over to lay face down. You suppose Gale wants to “ease your stress” again with their hands, as they once did before. But they don’t quite touch you yet.

Your head turns on one of the pillows, your eyes focused intensely on the candle in Gale’s hand as they hold it above you. “That’s going to hurt! Why would you do that?!”

“It won’t hurt in the least,” Gale assures you with a subtle laugh. “It’s a special candle, kitten. Not a normal one. The wax will feel nice on your skin.”

You remain uncertain, but turn your head back down and brace for the expected impact of the hot substance. You wind up gasping a bit when Gale’s touch brushes along your back instead, your hands gripping the pillows tight. The gentle doctor carefully brushes any loose strands of hair off your back, toward one of your shoulders. The sensation of their warm fingers brushing along your nape and shoulders instinctively leaves your cheeks red. You hate admitting to yourself that you like how these touches feel. Luckily, such thoughts are private.

“Are you alright?” You’re asked with a gentle voice. Gale’s hand retracts a moment, as they likely assess you. “You’re trembling a little.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done this before.”

“I know you don’t much like pain, and it’s okay to be nervous,” Gale assures you. “But you know me better than that. I’ll be careful with you. And this? It’s a special wax. You can certainly do this with other candles, usually for much stronger and sometimes slightly painful sensations, but I think that kind of intense play is more Micah’s territory. I prefer to be gentler. This candle is designed to keep melted on your flesh. More soothing, than anything. Don’t worry.”

You let out a slight breath as the sensation of an intense warmth hits your lower back. In your anticipation, it’s perceived as much hotter than it really is. However, after the impact, you adjust easily to it and realize it’s simply super warm. You can feel the stuff sliding down to the side, over the curvature of your hips. It’s…relaxing?

“See?” Gale coos. “How’s that, kitten?”

Your hands slowly loosen their grip on the pillow. “It’s warm. Really, really warm.”

Gale’s fingers again touch at your flesh, where they’d dripped the wax on you. They give it a gentle caress, but don’t linger on you long. “Does it feel good? Too hot?”

“It’s okay,” you suppose.

“It’s relaxing, isn’t it?” Gale remarks gently, mimicking your initial impression exactly. You can’t quite see where they’re aiming the candle, but do catch their arm moving from the corner of your eye. Without warning, they let another bit of wax spill onto your upper back, by your right shoulder. You simply let out a slightly shuddering breath in response. Every drop of wax leaves such a strong heat where it falls, but it dissipates slowly into a pleasant warmth.

The candle, now that it’s close to you, has a much stronger odor of warm vanilla to it, and quite a sweet one at that. Any bit of wax that drips onto your skin only transfers that scent to you, something you aren’t sure is a good thing, knowing your doctor.

Gale drizzles wax all along your back and lower body, at first going from dripping it slightly on different, random spots, to slowly pouring it up and down your spine. Now and then, they trick your expectations and drip the stuff on your thighs, but otherwise stick to the upper areas of your body.

Every time they reach close to your neck, you shudder from the enveloping warmth and sensational teasing. The doctor can hardly help but laugh softly in amusement at your reactions. Only periodically do they let their fingers glide along with the wax to keep it spilling in the right direction. Otherwise, they leave the teasing to the sensation of the stuff.

Each spot Gale chooses to hit causes excess wax to melt and pool, before running down your skin toward the bed and onto the cover beneath you. The feeling of it all beading down is, oddly, satisfying. The heat is even a little exciting, much to your embarrassment. But relaxing as this might be, you’re sure Gale isn’t just here to warm you up. They’re hitting these spots with a clear intent, but you’re finding it so comforting to lay here and be drizzled that you almost don’t care.

“Feel good, kitten?” Gale coos sweetly as they place the candle down on the nearby stool for now. You hardly respond, but you hardly have to. Your breaths have slowed and deepened as your body has succumbed to the warmth and drizzling. Gale laughs gently at your flushed state and proceeds to press their fingers into your skin, starting from your upper back. The warmth of the wax remains, but conjoins with the warmth of their flesh.

Gale doesn’t massage you quite as intricately as they had once, but does focus on running their digits and palms along your body, pressing and lingering on specific spots to make you feel good. A few times, they hit sensitive spots near your hips and beneath your armpits that leaves you reacting with a light moan or a huffing breath of involuntary, ticklish laughs. Gale only finds amusement in it all.

“How sweet,” they comment lovingly. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

You clutch the pillow tight in your hands again and blush. Your thighs press together in response to their hands gliding quite low down your backside. “No.”

“Mm? Perhaps we’d better do the other side, too,” Gale hums. “Turn over, won’t you?

Obeying, you shift your body around. You feel a bit slippery from all the oily substance along your back and legs, but manage to carry this out effortlessly otherwise. This time, however, Gale doesn’t let you use any of the pillows. They take them off the bed before you can lay back, then help bring your hair out so that any loose strands can hang over the edge of the bed. The back of your head presses against the mattress, and your arms remain flat and on either side of you.

Going from having your face practically buried in a pillow to being exposed to the white, bright lights of the room is a bit jarring, but that hardly stops your body from enjoying the lingering sensations of warmth. And, as you look over at Gale again, you wager with the candle held again in their hand that there’s still more to come.

They’re carrying their usual calm smile, icy eyes tenderly locked on your naked frame. By now, the wax in the candle looks as though it’s starting to slowly solidify, but there’s still quite a lot that’s fluid. Whatever’s left gets slowly drizzled onto your chest and stomach, but Gale does not necessarily tease your body with it now that you’re face-up. Instead, they touch you and work the hot substance into your skin with a tender touch, one hand holding the candle above you, the other working the melted wax into your flesh with gentle rolling presses. When you instinctively want to bring your hands up, Gale bids you to stay still in a hushed, soft tone. Their voice was always gentle, but never much more remarkable. But right now, you could melt in it alone.

After finishing with the candle, it’s again set aside on the stool. Gale’s fingers and palms then work all over your body, starting from your upper chest. Gale lingers quite a bit on your breasts, fondling them lovingly and leaving imprints of heat all over the soft curves, and around your nipples, which they pause to circle and press against with their fingers and thumbs.

Next, they start sliding their hands down your sides and over your hips, taking their sweet time to ensure you feel every bit of their touch. And, to your distaste, they soon begin gliding and pressing gently along your stomach. Your eyes shift away as the doctor presses against your abdomen in small circles, your mind only being reminded of Yosuke’s incessant touching there. You want to shake away, pull their hands back, something—but all you do is lie there and tense up your hands, balling them into fists. Only once you make it apparent that it’s uncomfortable does Gale finally back off, and move up to your lower ribs.

“I understand you’re still frightened of pregnancy,” they note, their voice still calm and low. “But you’re safe with me. Don’t tense up so much, alright? It won’t feel as good if you do.”

You’re so dizzy with warmth, you have nothing to respond with.

Gale interchanges their touching between various parts of your torso, this time avoiding the abdominal area somewhat more after your initial reaction. You wind up feeling lightheaded with all the physical attention, all the vanilla in the air, and all the warmth around your body. It’s like you’ve been enveloped in a blanket of heat, and you hardly want to fight back about it. Laying here is…comfortable.

Your chest rises and falls slowly in all the comfort, something Gale seems to watch intently while still giving their gentle little smile.

“Like it?”

You say nothing, but it’s not hard to guess how you’re feeling about it with your flushed reactions. Gale merely laughs through their throat a little before gently sliding their hand down your arm and bringing it up just a little closer to their chest. They take both hands and squeeze your wrists with tender touches, making circles into your forearm with their now-oily thumbs. You wind up blushing when they suddenly press a kiss into your wrist just after.

“Close your eyes for me, kitten,” they bid you gently, voice hushed and flowing into your ears. “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t pass on the opportunity to evade the white room behind a veil of black, so you lay your head back and quietly rest in the warmth still present in your body. Gale guides your arm back down to your side, then leaves to grab a few things. Knowing what Gale is into now, you sort of already know what to expect. You do, however, hear something else that sounds like fabric, and when you decide to peep and open one eye just a hair, you see Gale wiping off their hands. And, expectedly, their flesh-colored dildo and a small bottle of lubricant is on the stool by the candle.

Again, you shut your eye and await Gale’s next move. You feel flushed as their now-clean hand sweetly swipes away some stray strands of hair from your face and from beneath your neck.

“You still look a bit flustered,” they tease you. “Let’s ease our way to what you’re not used to, alright? It’s better you’re loose for it.”

“It’s not that I’m not used to it, I just don’t usually prefer it,” you correct them. Your legs snap shut instinctively upon the sensation of warm fingers brushing along your inner thigh. When your eyes open, you see Gale pulling their hand away and slightly shaking it around while wincing just slightly. You can’t help but let out a “sorry” in response.

“You’re hesitant,” they remark after assessing no real damage but a light hit. “Even now? I suppose it’s not surprising. You’re a little stubborn with your opinions sometimes.”

“I said I was sorry,” you pout. Gale takes little offense.

“Keep your eyes closed, kitten. Okay?” They hardly linger on what you take as an awkward slip-up. Rather, they chuckle boyishly. “Please don’t do that again. You squeezed my fingers suddenly at such an awkward angle. I’d hate for them to go to waste on just your thighs.”

You let out a slow breath as their fingers inch toward your clit and begin to trail delicately around it. Your body stays completely still while Gale leans closer to you on the bed, practically hovering their torso over your body, hand pressed against the mattress at your side, face just above you. Their white hair falls a bit along the sides of their cheeks, the light above blocked out by their handsome face.

“You still feel shame, being pleased?” They question upon examining your immediate refusal to make eye contact. Even now, they speak with a gentle smile and pursed lips. They hardly stay above you long, eager to plant themselves softly on your mouth.

You’re completely dizzy now. The warmth of all the waxy oil on your body, the heat of Gale’s touch as they tease your clit with slow, gentle motions…

Your hand grazes their wrist close to your crotch, but you don’t really even know when you began reaching until Gale pulls away from your lips and laughs gently.

“You don’t have to hide away from a good feeling,” they tell you with a soft, purring voice.

“I feel guilty giving into it,” you admit between breaths as Gale’s fingers work your clit more intensely now. “I don’t want to feel good around you doctors.”

Gale’s lips then meet your neck for just a moment. “If you let shame rule you, things won’t get better. You’ve taken so much back for yourself. Let this be one of those things, even if it’s just with me.”

“I’m not really in control though,” you slightly respond with a moan as Gale nips at your skin, using teeth like they had the first time they met you. They let another soft laugh into your neck.

“Give it a try, kitten.” You feel their hand lift away from your clit, and wrap around your wrist instead. You’re too enveloped in all the sensations to really bother retracting your hand away, and instead let Gale guide your wrist down, until your fingers graze your outer folds.

You’re so worked up with all the warmth and teasing that you want to press them into your pussy right now. But you refuse.

“I don’t…” They’re trying to goad you into letting loose with them, but you don’t want to. Maybe the doctors being softer with you is comparably better, but they’re still reaping pleasure from using you. They never once asked for what you wanted or if you wanted it. How you felt. Nothing was because you chose it.

Gale pulls their torso away a bit and looks at you with a pretend frown. “Come on, kitten. You want to loosen up for me, right?”

You refuse. “I’m not falling for it.”

Strangely, Gale smiles. “You can’t say I didn’t give you the option.”

When they see you won’t budge, they lower their hand again and press their own fingers into you. The sudden entry is slick, with your pussy already having slightly wettened from all the prior touching. You bite your lip and let your hand drop back to the bed.

Gale’s warm fingers rock and slide back and forth ever so gently inside you, and they remain hovering over your face with a calm smile.

“I suppose it’s a bit of a dilemma,” they remark as they watch your head turn away from their gaze. You let out steady breaths as you attempt to avoid reacting to being pleasured by their touch, but it’s hard to hide. “You could either hide away from your feelings, or embrace them. But doing so only makes you feel…weak?”

“Are you telling me, or guessing?” You criticize them between subtle pants. Gale’s digits continue to dip in and out of you sweetly, the warm pad of their thumb now pressing and rubbing against your clit.

“You let your fear and hesitation rule you too much, kitten,” Gale laughs softly in your ear before they give your cheek a peck. “I’d love to see you enjoy yourself.”

“Ah!” You let out a surprised gasp as their fingers thrust powerfully into you in one bursting movement after just pulling out to the tips. This time, however, Gale does not pull them out. They instead observe your flushed face as your hips slightly begin to wriggle at their being inside you.

“You can moan if you like,” they invite you. You let out a long, heavy sigh as you feel Gale’s digits wetly rub against your insides, their hand remaining steady all the while. “In fact please do, kitten. I want you to purr.”

Gale’s weight is then shifted to their bottom as they plant themself more firmly on the side of your bed, turning further your way to make it easier to reach you. Your eyes trail the doctor's other hand as it slips down to your side to grasp the underside of your hand. They pull your arm up by their face, squeeze a few of your fingers by the base to guide them upward just a bit, then proceed to suck on them. You blush at the gesture, even moreso when their usually tender icy eyes turn more devilish, sly.

Before you can tug it away from them, you’re distracted by the fingers inside of you as they begin again to pump in and out, a bit more generously this time. You can’t help but feel good being teased and touched this way, already having been worked up from earlier. Though you don’t try to get off on it, your body betrays you as it begins to grind into Gale’s fingers the closer you get to your peak. Your breathing becomes sporadic, and your fingers curl in Gale’s mouth as you start to lose your mind at all the stimulation. But before it can come to an end, Gale suddenly pulls their digits out of your wet pussy and leaves you frustrated.

“Why?” You huff. Gale simply takes your hand away from their mouth, lapping up excess saliva before it can dribble down from the retraction. They give a boyish laugh of amusement at your reaction.

“Oh, kitten, I’m sorry,” they attempt to apologize. “But I’d really like you to enjoy yourself around me, at least.”

You watch as they guide your wettened fingers down to your pussy. Their own sopping digits rest casually on the mattress now.

“Finish,” you’re gently urged. “If you want to feel good, go ahead.”

“Please don’t look at me,” you beg. Despite your pride on the issue, your body is aching for that last release. You feel dirty, but…

“I won’t laugh at you for getting off,” Gale promises with a nod. “I’ve watched you get off while sandwiched between two people, it isn’t a big deal. I won’t tell anyone about it. I just want to see you feel good. I want you to be comfortable around me, like I said. So?”

You sigh a little, but don’t protest again. All the while, you avoid Gale’s bright gaze, but remain aware of their focus on your face as your fingers finally push past your folds and into your wet cunt. You close your eyes in the hopes that the gesture will at least let you pretend to hide away, and try to keep focused on shoving your fingers deep inside your body. Gale, meanwhile, continues to tease your clit, this time with their fingers. They no longer stay seated, but slightly lean their side against the mattress so that they can press up against you a little more. They remain balancing on their elbow, instead.

“Mm? Little kitten, won’t you purr?” They urge you with a soft, hushed whisper in your ear. You grit your teeth at being teased and preyed upon like this, but your body continues to burn with enough warmth for you not to feel as disgusted by it.

Though you managed to hold in your moans for the most part, with your pleasure rising fast, even Gales lips suddenly attaching to your neck again leaves your throat opening up. You let out a much louder , albeit brief whine as your fingers rub and pump and curl inside of you. The noise makes Gale chuckle a bit, and their entertainment is only stretched further when your hips eagerly grind forward as you come close.

Once the first moan slips out, more follow. They start slow and rolling, but soon turn to short bursts of vocal gasps as your wet hole gets tormented by a combination of Gale’s touch, and your own.

“Come, kitten,” Gale whispers, leaving you to quiver and sigh. In moments, your body obeys their command, and your hips buck back and forth as electricity flows through you. Perhaps it doesn’t last as long as you want, but it’s stronger than you anticipated. One final, long moan escapes your throat before your hips slow down their rolling pace.

“How cute,” Gale laughs a bit as they watch you gradually come down from your ecstatic high. “Was that so bad?”

“I only did it because you told me to,” You say between breaths. “If I do what you say I leave faster, right?”

“You won’t always do what you’re told, though,” Gale answers back without a second thought. “Do you do everything someone like Micah tells you to?”

Your fingers slide out of the now-sopping mess between your legs, and you bashfully return your hand by your side. Your eyes finally open, but you don’t let them focus on Gale. “I don’t understand what you’re doing, but I don’t think I’m capable of being the slut you people seem to want me to be.”

“I’m only trying to help you along,” Gale answers you earnestly. “It’d be one less stressful thing to deal with, at least.”

You shake your head a bit. “You just want to watch me come.”

“Well, that’s a given, isn’t it?” Gale jests. “Teasing you is fun. But I also like helping you while still getting what I want. We have been pretty good about our system of reciprocation, even if the rewards we both exchange vary.”

They then get off the bed, leaving you laying in your oily, wet mess. The substance on your skin is still thankfully warm, though you’ve become fairly numb to the smell of vanilla by now.

Gale does not bother to waste more time, and they start to undress: Their shoes kick off, and their socks are peeled away in an instant. You watch them then begin to undo their tie, pop open buttons on their shirt, and roll down their sleeves. Your eyes can’t help but fixate on a patch of their exposed chest as the shirt comes partly undone without buttons to hold it closed now. Gale pretends to be fixated on their shirt cuff, but you can see them smirking a bit at your gazing of them.

“You’ve seen me naked before, you know,” they remind you as they drop the garments to the floor. They then move onto their lower half, undoing their corduroy pants. “Though I guess your embarrassment at watching us undress is darling. You do realize that some of them like innocent, don’t you?”

You blush and turn away. “I feel awkward about it, that’s all.” You’d hate to admit their body simply fascinated you. Like Jonathan’s, the act of undressing it and revealing the bare flesh beneath is one softer than when the other men undress.

“Even with those you love?” Gale smiles to themself while pulling their pants down carefully. Most every garment they take off is laid atop their shoes on the floor, likely next to where your clothes fell. “What a sweet, considerate little kitten you are.”

You peek over just a bit and watch Gale swap their packer out for the dildo on the chair. They don’t quite apply lube yet, but they do swipe the bottle up from the stool and bring it toward you.

“Turn on your side, okay?” They urge, and you begrudgingly comply. You don’t much want to stare at their naked body any further after being called out for peeking, so you turn opposite to Gale. Before you can settle your head back on the mattress, Gale carefully plucks the pillow from the floor and places it under you. They guide your head to settle comfortably on it, though let their hand linger in your hair a bit to stroke your head.

“I’ll be slow and steady just like the first time we did this,” you’re assured as Gale pets you. “Just relax your body for me, kitten.”

You feel a pit in your stomach for some reason, despite knowing that this will be fine. You can’t figure out just why until you finally feel Gale join you on the bed. The moment their arm slips under you and wraps around your chest and between your breasts, your heart begins to race.

“Are you nervous?” Evidently, Gale’s felt this change in you immediately since their arm is pressed against your chest.

“It’s not that,” you refute them. “I had a bad experience like this.”

“Oh?”

You hear the soft pop of the lube’s cap being opened, likely by Gale’s thumb. With one hand around you already, they likely have to maneuver the stuff onto their toy and fingers carefully. You wind up feeling some of it drip on your lower back, the cold fluid countering the warm, waxy oil from before. Luckily, Gale’s own body pressed against your backside helps heat things up again.

“It’s…” You’re not sure whether to divulge, but do anyway. “Lucius did this to me the first time he fucked me. I was terrified then.”

“Hmm,” Gale hums as they ponder this. You shudder a bit as the heat of their breath and the vibrations of their voice run along your neck and back. “Shall we change positions, then?”

“You’re asking me?” You’re surprised, head turning just a bit until you can see Gale’s face out of the corner of your eye. They smile.

“I said I want you to be comfortable.”

You turn your head away again, and lay against the pillow while you think on this. Gale’s arm around you is loose, not restrictive, you find. They’re warm and tender in their touch of you, nothing like what you felt before with Lucius. You’re not in danger right now.

So, in the end, you refuse.

“You mentioned reclaiming things,” you mumble. “I guess I’ll try that here. That’s such a small thing to take back, but…”

“It’s progress,” Gale chuckles softly as they peck your nape with their lips. You sigh pleasurably at the feeling, though that turns out to be a short-lived sensation when you start to feel Gale’s finger worm its way down to your ass.

“That stuff’s cold!” You complain as Gale begins to toy with your butt. They laugh.

“If only he kept this place more room temperature than an iceberg.”

“Your finger’s in my ass and you’re making jokes?” You grumble, still put off by feeling the finger worming around your rim before poking inside of you. Gale nuzzles their chin against the back of your neck, letting nasally breaths out into your hair.

“It’s what people do to lighten the mood,” they say, their voice humming against your skull. The sensation makes your spine tingle again. “But I suppose it’s also a method of coping with the awkward and the miserable. We’d be in trouble if there wasn’t at least something for us to laugh at. Sometimes even slight miseries are things we try to make light of.”

You bite your lip nervously. You haven’t much felt like the giddy, laughing type, lately. You’ve at least laughed around with your friends, but in the bedroom? That feels odd to do with someone like a doctor.

“You’re loosening up,” Gale eventually notes after generously toying with your backside, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m going to try easing myself in.”

You don’t much say anything to this, but blush as Gale plants a kiss on your head.

“Lift your leg a bit, kitten.”

You do so, at first discomforted by the position knowing your ass is about to get pushed into. But somehow, you don’t feel quite as wound up as earlier. Your hand comes up to Gale’s wrist hovering above your chest, and holds it tight as you prepare for them to push into you.

Gale guides their wettened cock toward your asshole, taking care not to hurt you as they slide it in. They manage to push the tip through without trouble, but have to carefully worm the rest of it in.

“I still can’t get over the way it feels!” You grunt as you feel your hole getting slowly stretched further. The rubbery cock pushing through your ass leaves your body with an immense sensation of pressure, but one that’s hardly painful. Your fingers press hard around Gale’s wrist.

“Shh,” Gale hushes you. Their free hand grazes the underside of your raised leg, helping to hold it open. “It’s almost in.”

You whine the more they push into you, but luckily find that they stop after a point. Only after it’s over do you finally manage to notice just how much of it is in you now.

Gale pauses and gives a light laugh. “I’d help keep you loose from the front, kitten, but my clean fingers are a bit occupied holding you. You’ll just have to touch yourself again.”

“You did that on purpose,” you pout, your grip loosening on Gale’s wrist. The doctor only chuckles before slowly pulling out of you a little, the sensation causing you to sigh again.

“Don’t be so rude, kitten.” Gale smirks as their lips raise up and over to your exposed ear. They nip at it a little, before pushing slowly back into your ass again and making you whine a little again.

“D-don’t be a dick, then!” You breathe. Still with another little laugh, Gale begins to slowly pump in and out of your asshole, going gently at first to get you accustomed to it again. Though, you’re sure in this position, they won’t be going all that fast. Plus, while the lube all over the rubbery thing makes it slide in a bit easier, you’re still tighter than you hoped. Every pump feels like there’s pressure inside you, but not at all painful.

Wanting to alleviate that pressure, you give in and let your hand slip from Gale’s wrist, instead dropping it down to your vulva. At first, you hesitate to do anything and just let Gale ride you from behind and tease your ear and neck, but you can’t help but want to feel the pleasure from both sides of your body. Gale already made you do this once, it’s not like doing it again would hurt.

You brush aside your reservations just for the moment and press your fingers to your clit, right at the same time as Gale pushes into you again. Your bottom is completely enveloped in warmth and wetness as the doctor grinds against you from behind, their breaths huffing out of their mouth as they concentrate on making wide, soft strides so as not to hurt you.

Your mind keeps wanting to focus on the terrible brush you had with Lucius every time you become conscious of being held like this by Gale’s arm. Maybe it’s just because of your fear of seeing him again and having to answer to The Overseer like before. It’s the last thing you want right now, but Gale’s warning continues to ring in your mind—he could kill you tomorrow.

God, you don’t want to think about such a dreadful thing right now. You don’t want that all to spoil what pleasure you are getting out of being held, touched, nipped at, rubbed against, pumped into…

This naughty string of words only brings your mind back to the right track, though this is facilitated by the sudden intrusion of fingers against your tongue. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, and when you pay more attention, you realize Gale’s reached the hand from the arm holding you up to your lips, and pressed their fingers into your mouth to tease inside of it.

Your face goes flush as you’re ridden from behind, and your tongue toyed with by delicate, rubbing touches. The right side of your head sinks deep into the pillow while your own fingers wiggle and press against your clit. You’re starting to…enjoy this.

A moan escapes your lips as Gale pushes and grinds against your ass, their cock filling your insides while their fingers fill your mouth that, by now, has started to overflow with wetness. Saliva beads down the side of it and onto the pillow while you’re fucked, and Gale’s breath hits against your ear with each wide thrust.

Your pussy wants another set of fingers inside of it with how wet it’s become too, and in your risen lust, you don’t waste time letting yours slip further down from your clit to fulfill what you want. Perhaps it’s against your better judgement, but you just want to feel good. You’ve already come this far anyway.

Much like Gale pumped their fingers into your hole, you do the same. Your own motions are a bit slow and moreso match Gale’s pace behind you, but the penetration of your walls and the massaging of your clit is enough to help elevate your pleasure to a point that your moans and whimpers become much more pronounced.

Gale, still close to your ear, gives another dear, breathy laugh. “Doesn’t it feel good, kitten? It must, if you’re touching yourself more. Tell me you like being like this, won’t you?”

They then pluck at and squeeze the tip of your tongue between their fingers while you let light whimpers of pleasure muffle a bit against their digits. Only after the noise to they again slip their fingers against the top of your tongue and continue to tease it there. Their arm around your body tightens just a bit to squeeze at your chest and bring you closer against them. “I guess your mouth is a little occupied. But I can hear you moaning, purring so sweetly, little kitten. It’s precious.”

You hear their words draw out between huffs and sighs, breaths slipping past their lips and hitting your skin. They only leave you shivering pleasurably. It’s clear to you by how much breathier they’re getting that Gale’s starting to enjoy themself. There are even a few subtle sighs that they let out, and periodically, they break their slow striding pace to nuzzle their arm between your breasts, and head in the crook of your neck. Every time they do, you’re left feeling flush and weak. Your chest flutters with every touch, every breath on your neck, every sigh in your ear.

Though their other hand is cupping the underside of your leg to keep it propped up, they do rub their fingers playfully along the flesh they can reach. Breaths keep rolling generously against your ear and cheek as Gale continues to grind, and in turn, you can’t help but let your own hips buck a bit against your fingers. This causes you to push slightly back against Gale too, making them chuckle in your ear again.

“Will you come, kitten?” Gale whispers against your ear, huffing a bit as they focus on pumping sweetly into your ass. “You’ve been teasing yourself for quite some time. You can tell me if you want it. I’ll help you.”

Your face is tomato red by now, your heart beating at a wild pace as you’re stimulated in all holes. You hesitate a bit to respond, but do force yourself to slightly nod. Your body’s burning hot with the urge to come. You don’t even usually like being taken from behind, but all these sensations at once is leaving you so lustful that you’ve temporarily forgotten how little you like this position after what happened.

Another girlish moan escapes your throat when Gale plants their lips along your exposed neck and shifts their arm down. Their fingers wetly leave your mouth, saliva spilling out a bit as they do. Instead, the doctor grabs your breast and begins to squeeze and toy at it, going between holding it and rolling their pads into your skin, and taking your nipple between their thumb and finger to pluck at the sensitive skin.

Being held open while all this is happening, being kissed and breathed onto, being ridden with such darling strides...you’re losing your mind. Your fingers no longer take their time dipping in and out of your pussy, and you pick up the pace just a hair, enough for the sensation of their filling you to be more pronounced.

You’ve been left so longing for release that when it finally comes, you don’t hesitate to enjoy it. Your hips continue to bump and grind subtly against your fingers and back against Gale, your heart beating wildly in your chest. The spark in your body is not quite as strong as you’d hoped, yet somehow it’s still satisfying with how much your body has melted in Gale’s arms.

Your hips continue their pace for a while until you feel the heat in your core start to ebb. At some point your fingers just go limp inside your pussy, and you suck in slow, steady breaths while laying against Gale, motionless. When the doctor senses you’ve given up, they let out another gentle, boyish laugh and plant a kiss behind your neck.

“Your reactions never fail to entertain me,” they tease. Finally aware of what you’re doing with your body as all the lust dies down, your hand immediately snaps away from your vulva. However, Gale gently guides it back down, holding your wrist with a soft touch.

“Don’t be so embarrassed,” they urge gently. “It’s precious when you enjoy it. Many of the others miss out on that by being forceful all the time.”

You blush, but your hand remains limp atop your crotch. “You got your fill. Please just get off of me.”

“It’s not bad advice. You just prefer not to follow advice when it comes from us,” Gale responds without a second thought, though they do heed your request and slowly pull their cock out of you. The feeling of your ass being left an open, sopping mess only frustrates you, but it’s also a bit relieving to not be so stuffed up now that you’re done. You hope dearly that Gale won’t ask for more since so much of their visit was expended on talking. Maybe that’s not such a bad deal, though. After all, you accepted as much from Monica knowing she wants to keep going with visits. Knowing now that her words were true, maybe it won’t be quite as stressful to be around her. Neither you nor she wants to be caught.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re fairly critical when you assume they’re referring to Lav. Not only does it annoy you that they’d bring that topic up, but that they’re blatantly admitting to having spied on everything with you and Lav is just uncomfortable and despicable, even when you already knew that was the case. You hate reminders.

Gale does not budge at your reaction, calmly taking out their used dildo, wiping down their harness well, and placing their packer back. Their icy eyes remain on the floor, but their lips keep curved in a slight smile. “Nine is a bit of a speak-your-mind kind of girl that can easily be too upfront about things, but she does look out for you. She wants you to enjoy your body. I’d also like to see that. At least with me and some select others, you can afford to.”

“But that’s not something you can force,” you shake your head while attempting to sit up. It proves to be a bit of an arduous task after being ridden for a good while. And while your ass isn’t sore, it’s hardly ready to take anything further right now. You need a moment to recuperate.

Gale hardly hesitates to help clean you off enough to not be so wet between your legs, nor oily on your body, at least. Even when you try to refuse their assistance, they towel you off a bit and pat you dry, just enough to not be so messy on your way to clean off properly.

“No, it’s not,” they admit, then leaving you to go change back into their usual clothes. While you quickly wipe off a spot of wet you-don’t-want-to-know-what on your thigh that Gale missed, you catch their limber frame pulling their pants and underwear back up to their waist. Their dark-skinned body is admittedly handsome, in an odd way. You still can’t help but admit it even after all the stimulation has ended. You suppose it just took a bit to get used to the kind of person they are. Why, though, did they find more acceptance here? In this place? Or is there more to it than they said?

“Hmm,” the doctor hums a bit upon pulling their watch out of their pocket to examine it briefly. You’re shocked they still have it now. “Yosuke’s late. I guess we could have afforded a little more time then, but I’d rather not risk being late too. Putting you out would just take extra time, so I’ll help you rinse off tonight. Surely your doctor will show up after.”

Late? He’s been late before, but you wonder just why he is this time. Usually it’s because he’s busy with work, but a part of you feels like it might be your fault, like maybe he got in trouble for something. But really, you’re so shaky about things right now that you’re just assuming the worst.

“I’m not using more scented stuff,” you pout, speaking back to Gale casually in an attempt to downplay your shakiness. “I already smell like some weird perfume or something.”

“You smell good,” Gale acknowledges this and turns it into a compliment, all while smoothing out stray strands of their hair that came loose during your activity. After first putting their watch away, the icy-eyed doctor reaches their hand out when you finally manage to sit back up. “Need help?”

“I’ll walk,” you refuse them like before. This, Gale does not bother to prevent.

Since Gale didn’t wear their coat today, there’s unfortunately nothing to wrap up in. The towels are hardly big enough to wrap around your whole body, so you beg for a spare bed sheet, which Gale procures readily. You attempt to conceal yourself in the cloth, then try standing on your own. Still taking care not to press on your healing cut, you try to hop toward the door.

No workers are in the hall when you leave, nor your doctor. The area is bare as you cross it to the showers, and even though it’s another long task, it’s one you manage to accomplish. Only when you enter the room do you get caught off guard by the sound of water already running.

Not once has anyone been here with you before, not to your knowledge. The times you’ve been awake for cleaning, Yosuke or someone else has been alone with you.

“Should I go in?” You hesitate at the entrance while attempting to peek out of the doorway leading toward the other showers. None in your immediate range of vision seem populated, but the other row of showers is out of sight.

“If you’d like not to be filthy, yes,” Gale chuckles a bit. “You’re welcome to clean yourself off if you like. I can easily chat up whoever’s here.”

“I can hear you two whispering,” a male voice calls out from afar, echoing against the walls of the shower. You recognize it’s casual, biting tone rather quickly.

Gale pats your back to urge you forward, and with little choice, you press onward toward the closest shower. You don’t even attempt to look toward wherever the voice came from and instead keep your gaze affixed to the floor. Only from the corner of your eye can you make out an open shower door, with the dark skin of Violet’s naked body crumpled up on the floor, and Micah’s strong, beige legs standing beside her. Since he’s not really hunched over her body, you wager he’s just on the cusp of finishing up with her.

You’re sure the man looks your way at some point, but Gale thankfully distracts him from calling you out when they try conversing with him. The last thing you really see before hiding away in your own shower and peeling away the sheet on your body is Gale leaning their back against the small connecting column between an empty shower, and Micah’s.

“Here for a tradeoff?” He scoffs a bit in amusement at the jest. You hear a towel flapping about as Micah no doubt dries off his Number, or himself. The voices are hard to make out with the water on your end being turned on already, but you listen intently.

“It’s getting to be a bit too late for that, isn’t it?” Gale shrugs this off. “Besides, I’m not at liberty to do that right now. I’d like to get back to work.”

“To work?” Micah lets out a loud laugh of disbelief. “Go home already. Your late nights are gonna become overnight stays at this rate.”

Gale chuckles. “I can’t help myself. But I’ll rest up in time. You should do the same.”

“Done pounding the ass out of that one, huh?” He then immediately corrects himself. “Oh wait, not pounding. I forgot you like it basic.”

You scowl a bit while leaning against the wall where the faucet and showerhead are, rubbing your body with water alone simply to remove the muck on you. His words are hardly pleasing.

“Forgive me for not adopting your style,” Gale rejects this with an air of false politeness, though they don’t at all sound offended. “You know I’m gentle with them.”

Micah gives a light breath, almost as if to laugh. “Yeah, but this one likes to fight. Even when we try to punish her for it, she still does it, like a sadist.”

“As does yours,” Gale notes curiously. “You seem to have an affliction for fighters.”

They pause a moment before continuing. “By the way, has Lilah been in?”

The sounds of fabric shuffling about fill the area, and you figure Micah’s re-dressing.

“Keep that nose to yourself. You dig so much I could call you a shovel.” The man doesn’t sound angry, rather condescending, like he often can be. “And there’s enough fucking tools in this place. She has, though, if you’re actually asking. She wanted someone to witness another one of her wild fits earlier. I’ve been stressed all week, and she had the gall to come bother me while I was in the middle of something. I really didn’t wanna hear it today.”

Gale hums in thought. “She’s been restless lately. Wonder why.”

“Beats me. Girl’s a wild child. I can respect it, except in any moments where it pisses me off. And she’s got bad timing.”

Once you’re done, you do nothing more than let the water run over your body while keeping an ear open to their conversation. Gale probably thinks you’re still washing up, and in hopes of keeping up the act, you occasionally splash your hand around as if you were making use of the water.

“Well, she looked you up for a reason today, I’d imagine.” Gale teases further.

Micah makes a tch noise. “That’s a load. I just happened to be close by. She does what she feels like doing. I’m just here to do whatever the boss wants, fuck something, and leave. At least I make it entertaining.”

He laughs slyly then. “By the way, where’s that girl’s guard dog?”

“Held up by work again, more than likely. Or else he’s stuck talking with someone. He’s probably rushing over now,” Gale responds calmly. “I guess he is a little bit too attached. I’ve warned him to be careful.”

“You’re a well-meaning idiot, you know that? It’s not your business to keep us in check.” Micah remains critical. “Nobody here listens to advice. You shouldn’t try so hard.”

“If that’s a misguided compliment, I accept it,” Gale does not take offense, but does not hesitate to tease Micah themself. “But don’t assume I’m trying too hard to help. I’m just here, doing as I wish within my limits. And even if I am a well-meaning idiot, at least I’m no red-blooded asshole.”

“Hey, that’s doctor red-blooded asshole,” Micah pushes back. You can practically hear the smirk in Gale’s voice as they simply reply with,

“Not without qualification.”

Micah hardly bats an eye to this. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’m out. Send the nosey little girl over there my regards.”

He then calls out louder, “You can turn that water off, honey, you’re really not fooling anyone.”

Your heart skips a beat as Micah calls you out, but the man thankfully does not approach your shower afterward. He wastes no time heading off, likely to leave the unconscious Violet in her room.

In defeat, you slowly reach over to turn off the water, then stand there awkwardly as Gale approaches your shower, arms casually crossed.

“Did you even bring my clothes?” You mutter sourly as you attempt to push past the uncomfortable callout.

“Ah, I knew I was forgetting something,” Gale sighs a bit to themself. “Give me a moment.”

They walk off somewhere you can’t quite see, but all you hear is the sound of footsteps, shuffling, and a door opening and closing in succession. When Gale returns, they have a fresh towel and a fresh set of clothes. Eager not to be so naked anymore, you dry yourself up as best you can while balancing on your foot and leaning against the wall, and dress promptly. You don’t even bother to head to the entrance where you usually get dressed.

In the midst of your task, Gale watches you with their icy eyes, arms again crossed as they do.

“I talked to Yosuke a little while after we met in the infirmary. I sort of felt like apologizing on Momma’s behalf for making him so uncomfortable earlier in the infirmary. I heard from him that you drew a few pretty pictures today.” The conversation from Gale comes much to your surprise. When your head turns toward them, they smile. “I’m surprised you’re willing to do that, but not write in your journal when you probably already know he’d see both.”

“I haven’t much felt like it,” you mutter. What’s up with them? Where is this coming from, and why? “Maybe your method isn’t for me. Today, I just felt like drawing. And with all the dress-up stuff the other day...”

Gale nods a bit in acknowledgement of your intended statement, despite it trailing off. “That’s understandable. I didn’t peg you as interested in drawing, though.”

“I’m not. I was just killing time. It didn’t last long, anyway,” you respond cautiously. “I had fun drawing those dresses, but Yosuke made it weird like he always does.”

“That so?” Gale replies curiously. “I guess that’s why he was so distracted today. He does adore you. He’s not one to let things slip.”

“Fetishizes,” you correct bitterly. “I’m just his toy.”

“His favorite,” Gale sighs a bit. “He’s always been so level headed, but I suppose this place can do a lot to people. We’ve all been shaped by it. Any well-concealed misbehavior no longer has to be that way here. Many of the other doctors were once potentially healthy in mind and spirit. Others, not quite as much, though they were fairly harmless. This facility has affected them greatly."

"Doesn't that also mean you too?" You question. You want to bring up what was discussed back there, but hold your tongue now that you’re out of the exam room.

Gale pauses a bit to ponder this, but eventually returns their gaze to you and keeps their friendly smile. "Yes, I think so."

You scowl, annoyed by their smiling at this. "Does that amuse you?"

"No, it surprises me. I am quite aware of the awful things I've done and of who I am now. But I don't find myself in such a hurry to change that part of me anymore. Perhaps I try to stifle it a little, to keep it in check so as to prevent it from growing into something more monstrous. I could certainly be that way, as anyone else here."

"How narcissistic. You think you’re safe?" You remain critical. Gale shakes their head.

"I don't say it to boast or parade myself as better than others, Ten. Awareness is both a useful thing, and a crutch all the same. I don't particularly like the idea of living miserably knowing the monstrous tendencies even I apparently have. So, I don't. I live with it and enjoy what good I can see. Surely there are things you enjoy here?"

You look down at the floor then, tugging at the hem of your gown a bit with your free hand as you do, since your other arm is now leaning against the wall. “Of course. But that hardly changes the reality of this place. The only escape from these walls I have is in my head, and even that’s faulty.”

“What do you mean?” Gale seems uncertain. You sigh.

“I guess it’s stupid to tell you this…” Yes, stupid, because The Overseer is likely watching you closely. You’re not sure what he’d gain from hearing this, though. “…but I’ve been having all these dreams. Some terrible, some strange. But for as frightening as they can be, some of them have been the only times I’ve gotten outside these walls.”

“Outside?” The white-haired doctor looks on at you with mouth just barely agape. You shake your head.

“I’ve been stuck in these walls even in my dreams sometimes, but there are some dreams that are surreal and incomprehensible, and some that are outside. I don’t really remember the outside too well, but this place, I seem to vividly picture.”

“What place?” Gale questions calmly. You frown a bit. Is it worth saying? Gale can’t tell you anything about it anyway.

“A garden maze,” you confess. “Not like all that much matters. I don’t understand that place. I don’t remember it. It means nothing to me.”

Gale looks on at you with a faded smile. They’ve instead adopted a more neutral look on their face, but one with the undertow of concern, you think. “My Number has gone on about wanting freedom and sunshine too. I hate disappointing her, but I brought her here, and so that’s that. I live with it every day.”

Their wording strikes you as odd. “Do you regret it?”

Gale shakes their head a bit. “I wanted her. I love her. Maybe Yosuke and I aren’t so different that way, but I’m sure I’ve said before that his affection for you isn’t quite the same. He’s a little more unhinged these days. I suppose he’s never been able to take control of his life before as someone who has always been so diligent in his work and focused solely on it because he’s struggled letting loose.”

They laugh a bit, almost as if to ward off whatever bad thoughts they were having. “Maybe my superior was able to relate to that in Yosuke, before he realized how different he was from the man. In any case, you certainly started off as a power trip for your doctor. Now that he’s accustomed to you and gotten to see much more of you, he’s grown affectionate. He desires your attention, good or bad, because he’s decided he truly loves you. But I worry for him.”

You don’t disagree about some of their points about your doctor, but find it odd to hear Gale talking honestly about Yosuke like this. They hardly seem ingenuine.

In the end, Gale gives another sigh and brushes all of this off. “Well, anyway, do hold onto those dreams of yours, if you can. A garden sounds beautiful. Fitting for a sweet girl like you.”

You blush and look away, but say nothing. You’d like to ask if Gale at least knows why you’re having these dreams, or if they know what they mean without really telling you, but know that even asking that could get you in trouble. So, you let it go.

It’s not long after this that the showers are again intruded upon. The door opens swiftly, and when you look over toward the entrance, Yosuke is standing there. He doesn’t look upset or worried, rather inexpressive as he looks on at you, then Gale.

Despite losing their smile earlier, Gale again gains it, giving a polite one toward their coworker. “About time you showed up.”

Yosuke lets out a long exhale through his nose. “I’m aware I’m late. Today was rather stressful for me. I do appreciate that you oversaw my Number for me. However-”

“Ah, she’s standing because I allowed it,” Gale interrupts your doctor, guessing just what he was about to gripe over. Yosuke frowns.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he says unpleasantly. Yosuke hardly wastes time walking toward you and scooping you up quickly in his arms. The fabric of his white coat brushes against your legs. Despite his annoyance at the issue, he smiles gently for you.

“Are you alright, dear?” He asks sweetly. You avoid his gaze.

“I’m fine.”

You’re uncomfortable again, but to make matters worse, Yosuke pauses and sniffs at the air a bit when he catches a whiff of the vanilla scent.

“Hm…Gale, what did you do, exactly?” He brings you just a hair tighter against his chest. Him smelling the remnant of the oil on you even after you tried to rub it off only leaves you uneasy, but you did predict he’d notice.

Gale laughs a bit. “It’s only from a candle. No worries, Yosuke. I took good care of your dear Ten.”

“Do keep her off her feet next time if she’s injured,” the straight-faced doctor bids Gale. “She’s healing up, but I do prefer her as safe as possible.”

Gale doesn’t hesitate to challenge this. “Given how the rules for you have changed, is it possible?”

“I will try to make sure that it is, to the best of my ability,” Yosuke answers with a displeased tone. “Gale, I’m far too exhausted from today for your teasing. I’ll be going. You should too.”

He doesn’t give Gale much a chance to answer right away, instead turning with you in arms to head out. But before he can fully exit, his name is called, and he pauses.

“Hanging around Ten today got me thinking–you and I haven’t been talking nearly as often lately. We should catch up tomorrow.” Gale invites him kindly from afar. They then give a lighthearted chuckle. “Maybe without Momma messing around this time, huh?”

Despite wanting to keep going, Yosuke stands still and thinks on this invitation for a bit. Eventually, he says simply,

“I’ll see if I can.”

It’s all Yosuke answers with before leaving the showers entirely.

Chapter 80: Visit Thirty Three - Affliction

It’s odd not hearing Yosuke talk now that he’s finished up with Gale, knowing well how he usually is when alone with you. Still, as you lay against his chest in his coat-covered arms, you occasionally peek up at his face and feel a sense of unease at what you see. His lips are tight, his eyes narrowed just slightly and focused ahead of him. He hasn’t even looked at you. There’s no mention of your visit, your shot, no questions about how today went, not even an inkling of his usual teases.

You’re not exactly comfortable seeing him this way, nor do you want him to take out whatever frustrations he has on you in the bedroom for the sake of relieving stress. Even if he’s likely to use you tonight, it’s better he stays focused on anything but what’s frustrating him.

“Yosuke…?”

Your meager peep of a call only just barely shakes the man, and his olive eyes shift down upon your worried face. His own expression slightly softens as he notices yours.

“What is it, dear?” His voice is low. You tip your head back down again and focus on the passing doors as Yosuke ferries you back to the bedroom.

“You seem mad.”

Your doctor gives a light huff from his nose. “I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. You needn’t worry about it.”

“Is it work?”

“I said you don’t need to worry,” you’re denied more firmly. “I’ve got a lot going on in all places”

He sighs a bit. “I’ve been out of sorts. Perhaps I owe Gale an apology for being so bitter. I’ll talk with them tomorrow, hopefully.”

You frown. “Are you in trouble?”

“Trouble? I’ve no need to worry when I’m doing what I’m told.” Yosuke then squeezes your body against his own a bit, nudging you. “Now that’s enough, dear. I haven’t had much time with you these past few days, and I’d rather not spoil this time with that kind of talk.”

If that’s the case, maybe The Overseer hasn’t caught onto what you discussed with Monica yet. Or else, like you brought up with Gale, he doesn’t care for some reason. You can’t do anything about it for now. After a brief quiet, Yosuke finally brings you to the room. The door behind him shuts as the rosy walls greet their color-matched resident.

You say nothing as Yosuke expectedly lingers, but he doesn’t place you on the bed or onto the floor at all. Rather, he sits on your chair by the desk and shifts your body down to seat it on his lap. Hoping to hold on and avoid slipping off of him, your arms wrap around his neck and back. Your legs hang over your doctor’s thighs, the tips of your toes just barely touching the floor. You can’t help but blush at all the warmth on different parts of your body, and when Yosuke’s hand starts to stroke at your hair, shivers run up and down your spine.

Like he probably expects, you bring your head down and nestle your cheek on his shoulder, head resting upon him.

“My pet knows just what I need,” Yosuke teases, voice still low. “Even this is helping to calm my nerves a little.”

You frown. “It’s not enough, is it?”

You’re hardly keen on jumping from everything that happened today to again being Yosuke’s little plaything. Letting your mind go numb for a little while doesn’t sound so bad with all the stress you’ve been under, but the man is undoubtedly just going to get under your skin again.

Yosuke laughs gently. “We’ll see, dear. Just stay like this for a while. It feels good to have you against me again.”

You hear shuffling, and from the corner of your eye, just barely make out the white sleeve of Yosuke’s coat as it passes behind you, over your desk. When you eventually hear the flipping of pages, it doesn’t take long to guess that he’s fiddling with your paper pad.

“What are you doing?”

“Something to pass the time while I have you like this,” Yosuke answers simply. “Just stay like that while I draw you a pretty picture, dear. A quiet activity is something I need to help ease my mind further.”

“You draw?” You want to scoff, but your words come out more curiously than anything. Yosuke, free hand now dropping to your back to keep you steady, gives another soft chuckle.

“I’m no artist, of course,” he says as you then hear the familiar scribbling of a pen on smooth paper. “I know basics from core classes I’ve taken.”

You go quiet as the scribbling behind you continues, somehow sounding so loud in your ears now that the room has nothing else disrupting its quiet. Not wanting to keep your arms forward the entire time, you let them drop slightly and instead place your hands atop Yosuke’s shoulders. Your head raises a bit to do this, and your chin instead rests on what area there is between the crook of your doctor’s neck and where your hand begins. Consequently, your cheek is pressed close against the side of Yosuke’s head, and strands of his dark hair brush against your skin.

Perhaps it’s the soothing sound of scribbling or the heat of Yosuke’s body, but your eyes wind up closing slowly in the comfort. Maybe at some point you get too comfortable and lean against your doctor too hard, because his amused chuckling brings you back to full awareness.

“I’m almost done, my pet,” he coos. “Don’t fall asleep just yet.”

After just a moment’s more of scribbling, Yosuke calls your number gently. “Would you like to see?”

You push away from Yosuke a bit enough to fully turn your head to the right, where your doctor has the paper pad held up with his free hand. You expected to see some magnificent piece, but all it turns out to be is something simple. However, this something simple does not at all sit well with you.

Your lips part, though nothing comes out immediately. On the page is a semi-detailed, if a bit messy pen sketch of a rosebush, one small and dotted with a few of the familiar flowers. The leaves of the bush are intricately shaped despite the messy linework, and the stems somehow finely lined despite the pen Yosuke used not having a thinner nub. He was definitely careful about some of these lines, you find.

Gazing upon the flowers leaves you unsure how to react, but you realize that not reacting would make him more suspicious of you. So, you muster up only the words “A rose bush…?” in surprise. Yosuke simply smiles in response to your reaction.

“You know what it is?”

“I guess so,” you play dumb. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person. Or maybe I don’t remember if I did.”

You play things cool as best you can, but the sight of the thing only shocks you. It’s not at all far off from the rose bushes you saw in your recent dream, and now your mind is going dizzy with confusion. Is Yosuke just teasing you with something you can’t remember? Is this a test to see if you are remembering anything?

Or did he know you before all this?

Your heart beats a bit quickly at this question when you remember the presence of someone or something in your dream too—the very thing that shook you awake. You want to say maybe it was just a fearfully conjured presence given how frightened of The Overseer and his gunman you’ve been as of late. You’re dreamt of doctors in the garden despite how unlikely it is you met them before all this. It’s no wonder that The Overseer would appear too, when he’s constantly plagued parts of your mind since your traumatic brush with him and Lucius. Even once before that, you remember. You don’t even really want to think about it now.

Regardless, your physiological response is something you can't hide from your doctor, being so close to him now. But strangely, he doesn’t react to it with anything but that same smile. This leaves you uncertain on whether or not he even noticed, but why wouldn’t he have?

“They’re beautiful up close,” Yosuke remarks. “I figured I’d try drawing something fitting for you, my Rose.”

You frown and frump on the man’s shoulder again, turning away from the drawing. In part, you just wanted a reason not to let Yosuke observe you further, but the use of the name does truly vex you. Your fingers dig into the cloth on the man’s shoulders as your hands tighten their grip. “You said you would only call me that if I was in trouble.”

“You’re still mine to call as I please,” is your doctor’s gentle response. “But yes, a rule’s a rule. I should be more diligent about following. As should you.”

You hear Yosuke place the paper pad back on the desk. He doesn’t continue working on it just yet, however. Instead, he runs his free hand along your right outer thigh, gently caressing it.

“I still need to color this picture,” he remarks, crooning into your ear. “But I’d also like to keep feeling more of you.”

Only now does your mind attentively notice the slight bulge rubbing against the area between your legs. Your hands tighten even more on Yosuke’s shoulders when you realize what he’s asking. When he feels you grab him, your doctor gently laughs again and starts to kiss the side of your head.

“Just for a while, dear,” he murmurs. Your cheeks redden further when Yosuke’s lips meet your ear for him to bite gently at its lobe. Before you can protest anything, Yosuke’s hand on your back pulls your body tighter against his, leaving his growing bulge to rub and prod further against you, with the thin veil of your panties doing little to prevent feeling all of it. You let out a light sigh in response to the sensation.

“You said you were tired,” you try to remind the man, but he hardly budges. He responds firstly by bringing his head forward and kissing your neck, letting his lips linger and suck a bit on your flesh before pulling back.

“I haven’t had much time for you lately,” he says gently before planting another loving peck on your skin. He follows this with a light sniff of the remnant vanilla scent still lingering on your body. You shiver a bit feeling his face so close to your neck again. “I am tired, and I have many things to tend to, but I’ll always spare time for my pet.”

His hands both then move from where they are, instead slipping toward your shoulders to pull you back a bit. You hardly want to make eye contact with your doctor, but it’s not something you can avoid when your face is still so close to his. Yosuke graciously examines your bothered profile with nothing more than a loving smile on his own. While your eyes try to avoid his, you feel his hands slip again from their place on your shoulders, this time trailing down your sides slowly, so that he can feel all of you.

When they fall on your hips, Yosuke finally speaks. “Dear, sit back a bit.”

You want to protest again, but find yourself unable to procure the words this time. Your own body is again feeling bothered after the gentle touching, and you chide yourself quietly for still being a bit eager even after a visit. Still, you scootch yourself back just enough not to fall off the man and let him undo his belt buckle and zipper. You avoid looking down as he shimmies his clothes down just enough to expose his raised cock.

You remain gripping your doctor’s shoulders as if holding on for dear life, face tomato red, and eyes averted as much as they can be. Yosuke simply plants a kiss on your mouth just to grab your attention again, and when you finally bother to look back down, you’re put off by the phallus presented between your thighs.

“Move your panties aside, pet,” Yosuke bids you as his hands return to your waist. He pulls you forward a bit, but not enough to envelop your body with his heat again just yet. You let one of your hands lower to do as told. The hem of your gown is already a bit raised along your thighs with how spread out they are, but you raise it further to start pulling the strip of cloth covering your vulva aside, just enough for Yosuke to go where he wants.

You then gasp a bit as you’re suddenly lifted up just enough by the doctor’s grip on your waist. He brings your body even closer, angling you while you’re lifted so that your tummy is resting on his chest, while the rest of your lower body hovers above his crotch. Sheepishly, you part your folds to help the tip of his cock reach your entrance. With your head slightly above the man now, he looks up at you with a seductive grin on his face, amused by your flushed reactions.

Once you’re ready, he slowly lowers your body back down, letting his cock worm its way into you inch by inch. When you don’t need your hand guiding him anymore, it returns to Yosuke’s shoulder. While your stomach and chest slide down along his body as Yosuke brings you down by the hips, you feel the walls of your pussy being pushed upon. Yosuke’s slight teasing already left wetness between your legs, however, and this is something the man hardly refrains from teasing you about.

“You’re an eager girl,” he laughs. “But tell me if it starts to hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” you sigh pleasurably as your ass and thighs again meet Yosuke’s lap. Once more, you lean your body against him and clutch at his coat. The feeling of his heat in your body and against your chest and everywhere else is leaving you even more flushed. You’d hoped Gale’s visit was enough, but apparently fingers weren’t all you wanted today.

Your thighs shift around as your excitement builds, but Yosuke pets your head and makes gentle, crooning hushes at the gesture.

“Don’t move, pet,” he urges you sweetly. “I want you to sit still for me while I color this picture for you.”

“What?” You breathe uncertainly against his neck. “Why?”

“Is my darling so needy? How cute.”

“You don’t usually waste time when you want to fuck me, is all,” you remain annoyed. This leaves Yosuke to chuckle in amusement.

“Do be patient. Keep me warm. If you move before I let you, I won’t help you come.”

You grumble a bit, but do keep your body still for your doctor, letting him work as you impatiently sit upon his hard cock. Your toes curl as you focus on the sensation of his warmth inside you, as you yearn for him to get this over with so that you can get some peace from him. You’d like not to continue quietly admitting or outwardly being told you want to be fucked.

Yosuke continues to hold onto your back with one arm wrapped behind you, while the other then plucks the colored pencils from your desk and starts to add color to his sketch. You’re sure he’s smiling to himself while he has you on his dick, unable to move. The thought of his smug face is frustrating, but this is temporarily alleviated by distraction when Yosuke adjusts himself on the chair, which causes his cock to rub and prod at your insides. You exhale through your nose, trying to keep a moan from coming out. You want to move, but your toes curl up further instead In response.

Yosuke’s body is hot against yours, his chest pressed tightly to your bosom when he slowly draws in steady breaths. His palm occasionally adjusts itself on your back, rubbing against the cloth there. Every so often, your doctor’s head just barely shifts one way or the other, making his dark hair brush up against your cheek.

You sit there obediently, teased by all these sensations, made to be wholly aware of each as they affect your body. There is no sound in the room other than Yosuke’s occasional exhales, and the rhythmic scritch, scritch of the page as he scribbles color onto it. All of these persistent sensations leave you dizzy.

Yosuke hardly acknowledges you after his last playful warning, instead focused on his work. You’re sure he’s just ignoring you on purpose. Even when you slightly adjust yourself atop him when your body wants to slip down just the slightest bit, he doesn’t say a word. Though, you try not to do this too much in order to avoid sparking another wave of excitement. For your own sake, your body otherwise stays perfectly still in Yosuke’s heated lap, acting as a mere comfort to the doctor.

The warmth filling your body both in and out is far too distracting for you to think about how long this goes on for, but eventually you hear the scribbling on the page behind you stop, followed by the light plick of whatever colored pencil your doctor’s using being put down on the metal desk. Once this is done, your doctor again gets your attention to show you his work.

“How does it look, dear?” He remains endearing in his tone. You try to keep your head lowered to avoid letting Yosuke see your flushed face, but it really doesn’t do much good. Instead, you focus on the drawing, and see that it now has a well-blended array of colors on it. It’s not perfect given the limited materials, nor is it quite the level of Blue’s work, but it’s certainly far better than whatever you could muster. The once white bush is now painted in, to your discomfort, orange-washed rosy pinks and brilliant, leafy greens. The overlay of the orangish tint to all the color makes it more apparent—this is definitely a recreation of what you dreamt. Maybe not the place, but certainly the rose bush itself. You don’t know how to take it.

“Is something the matter, darling?” Yosuke plainly sees your lingering focus on the thing, his own olive eyes warmly fixated on your slightly bewildered expression .

“No,” you refuse to give an honest answer. Again, Yosuke strangely does not pry even though it’s clear you’re lying. He simply places the paper pad back on the desk and returns to holding you close to him. His hand, once occupied by stationary, now strokes your hair again while your head rests once more in the crook of his neck. Neither of you can see the other’s face.

“I know you can't really get a taste of the outside, but perhaps this will suffice,” he tries to reassure you, voice humming in his chest, and against yours. Has he misinterpreted your surprise for longing? What’s he getting at? You can’t understand. “Do give it a glance if you ever miss the beauty the outside has to offer. Roses like these are simply beautiful in the sun.”

“I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth. You’d love to have your breath taken away by such beautiful sights, to make up for all the ugly you’ve had to deal with in this place. Now more than ever, you think it’s possible you can try to see it once more. With Monica apparently on your side, and Gale in no rush to stop you, maybe you could attempt to leave. Someone like her who’s on the inside of all this could help, right?

Your hands again clutch at Yosuke’s shoulders, pressing into the thicker fabric of his white coat.

“You seem a bit down, dear,” he notes as you limply sit on his lap otherwise. “Have I upset you?”

“No,” you deny it. “Can I please just sleep?”

“Not just yet,” Yosuke refuses you. “I said if you moved, I wouldn’t please you. But you were a good girl for me, so I’ll give my pet what she wants.”

“I don’t.”

Yosuke chuckles a bit and moves his hips around slightly. His cock slides further in and dips out just a tiny bit, but it’s enough to make your legs close and press tightly against his thighs in response. You again let out a pleasured sigh against your doctor’s neck, making him run his fingers along your scalp and give an amused huff of laughter.

“I know what my pet likes.”

You stay quiet, gritting your teeth. Yosuke simply holds you close and grins by your ear.

“If you truly want to go to bed, then very well. I’ll leave you alone,” he compromises. “I’ll send you off with a kiss goodnight, and that’ll be the end of it. But if you’re so eager, then start moving your hips, and I’ll make sure to tuck you in properly.”

You hate this. Why does he have to make your pleasure so uncomfortable?! But…

You stay still for a long while, letting Yosuke hover by your ear and hold you tightly against him. He seems patient enough to let you decide, but you know well he’s going to get his way anyway.

Gale told you to enjoy yourself, something even Blue and Lav have told you to do. It’s not like you haven’t before. So maybe if-

Despite you still thinking about it, Yosuke’s hands slip down to your waist again, his thumbs swiping delicately over the thin fabric between your skin and his. Feeling his touch there with your legs spread out like this, all you can do is bite your lip.

Your eyes waver a moment, but you slowly start to roll your hips forward the way he said to. Your movements aren’t quick or sudden, rather slow and hesitant. But it’s just enough to give your doctor the satisfaction of winning. His nose expels a chuckling breath before his lips plant themselves on your neck again. This, you let him do, tilting your head away so that it’s easier for the man to touch you there.

With your strides slowly widening, the feeling of Yosuke’s cock sliding in and out of you is more pronounced, and your thighs again press firmly against your doctor’s. In turn, he grips your waist tighter, keeping his hands in place to help you to move and grind against him.

You refuse to pull away from Yosuke or face him, already feeling shameful for giving into the pleasure. The most you do for now is let your arms slip past his shoulders so that you can better embrace and hold onto him while you rub and grind against his cock. Your folds and your clit all rub up against whatever exposed flesh there is around his crotch, the warmth pressing and rolling against your sensitive areas as you start to moan lightly into Yosuke’s neck.

“Good girl,” you’re praised for giving in, though Yosuke’s voice is now laden with breathiness as he concentrates on holding you and pumping his hips up just barely enough against you at the same time to facilitate your movements. He doesn’t do all the work, however, and leaves it primarily up to you to get both of you off while sitting here. And the more you move, the less you’re able to focus on feeling dirty. Your body wants to feel good, and so do you.

With the rhythm picking up in pace gradually, your noises in turn become louder and more pronounced. You grip Yosuke tightly, breathing heavily into his ear while letting out rolling gasps and pleasurable, broken squeaks. This, he relishes in, letting out breaths of laughter between his concentrated panting.

“How dirty my pet is,” he teases. “You refused to believe you could be.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You try to sound aggressive, but your gasping moans only lessen the blow.

“But isn’t it the truth?” Your doctor relents with a grin. “My dear, you need to be more vocal about your desires so that I can please you. If you ever begged me for my cock on your own, I’d be more than happy to fill you with it.”

You refuse, grunting. “I won’t tell you a thing.”

You then yelp slightly as your head is tugged back just a little by the scalp, enough to pull it away from Yosuke’s shoulder. You find yourself unable to stop grinding against the man with how excited you are, but do give your doctor an uneasy look as he watches you from behind his square frames. He smiles then, and tilts his head.

“Then don’t talk.”

With his hand still tightly gripping your hair at the back of your head, Yosuke forces you forward and seizes your lips when they crash into his. His kisses aren’t quite as soft as they have been before, but certainly as passionate. He refuses to let you breathe, making sure to wrap his tongue around yours and keep your lips under lock and key against his. You moan in protest against him, but the man merely chuckles through his nose again and grips your waist more tightly with his other hand. His fingers rub playfully against your scalp as they shift around to keep your head in place.

You can’t stand how this is turning out, but are too turned on to care beyond struggling against the man a bit. Only occasionally does he pull away to let you breathe or make his playful comments.

“If you want to come, you had better ride me harder,” he commands before forcing his mouth against yours again and occupying you with his tongue. You can do no more than moan girlishly against him when Yosuke bucks his hips hard to make his cock pump deep into you, a motion that causes you to tighten your arms around him in response. You just want to hold onto something right now with how good you feel. And the more you ride your doctor, the dizzier you get. You even stop fighting his lips after a while of this, wanting pure satisfaction.

Yosuke moans and grunts a bit into your mouth as his hunger to fuck you grows, but it seems he fights with himself to make you work for your orgasm, his body even refraining from its initial upward thrusts once he apparently decides against assisting you too much. Somehow, in your state, seeing the man try to control himself excites you more.

The spark in your body is suddenly lit when you grind in just the right way for Yosuke’s cock to hit just where you want it to, and this coupled with your clit rubbing against him only leaves you bouncing much more eagerly on your doctor in hopes of getting your satisfaction. Girlish gasps and moans all muffledly escape you, much to Yosuke’s delight. His only response is to laugh against your lips, only pulling away briefly to watch your agape mouth and glazed eyes. You don’t want him to see you this way, but don’t fight the urge anymore.

“Are you going to come, my pet?” He teases you as if it wasn’t already evident. Your eyes shut as Yosuke holds your head back, leaving you lipless again as he merely watches you buck and thrash. You can’t even dignify him with an answer as you reach your peak, and only when he sees you starting to come does Yosuke gently bring your head back to his shoulder and hold you close. Your noises are hardly voluntary anymore, and all you can do is wildly grind your hips against Yosuke, rubbing yourself on his lap and against his cock while you come and come and come. Your clit continues to rub against him, your mouth letting out heaps of pleasured, girlish moans and pants while Yosuke just sits there and pets your head over and over and over. He enjoys every bit of your lust, and every bit of making you work for it, even if he’s raring to fuck you himself.

If only this shameless pleasure would keep constant so that you wouldn’t have to think about its consequences, but when it finally starts to ebb and your body no longer moves against Yosuke, you feel nothing but disappointment, then shame. You haven’t been this horny in a while, but today has proven fruitful for your libido.

You realize, then, that Yosuke didn’t come, and you know he won’t leave until he does. But for now, he continues to pet you gently, stroking your hair like a loving caretaker, and letting you rest on his lap.

“What a precious thing you are,” he coos in your ear. “My dear…”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you beg him with a mumble, frustrated now that you’ve settled down a little. “I don’t like it when you do that to me. I don’t want to hate enjoying myself like that.”

“You don’t have to, and I’m not making fun of you. It entices me to witness your pleasure. You enjoyed yourself, and that’s enough, isn’t it? I even held back to let you do it all on your own.”

You don’t give a response to this, and simply stay limp in Yosuke’s lap again. Seeing that you have nothing else to say, Yosuke moves on from the subject.

“Well, I enjoyed the show, but I’ve yet to have my fill, dear.”

“I know.” You don’t dance around it either. Yosuke pulls you back a bit and smiles warmly at the sight of your defeated face. He leans in for a quick, much gentler kiss than just before, one which the sucking of resonates a loud sound, and leaves a lingering warmth on your lips.

“Shall I tuck my pet in, then?” He leads you on as if it weren’t already going to happen. “Surely you aren’t satisfied with just one rush of lust?”

Your eyes again avert his olive gaze. You don’t respond, and nod instead. This leaves Yosuke with another incentive to praise you with a kiss.

“There’s my precious pet. Come, dear. Let’s get you on the bed.”

You let Yosuke lift you up off of him slowly by the hips, enough for his cock to slip out. Losing that warmth is only temporary, but you wind up missing the comfort in your still-eager state. You want desperately for that hungry feeling to go away.

Once you’re off him, your doctor scoops you up again in his arms and takes you back to the familiar rosy bed, sitting you temporarily on its corner while he prepares things however it is he intends to.

“Let’s try not to make too much of a mess,” Yosuke says while undressing his coat. He pulls its sleeves off, then lays it down atop the comforter, by the edge. Once done, he lifts you just a bit to move your body atop it. Gently, he guides your body back, until your legs are partly dangling over the edge of the bed.

You watch, confused, as Yosuke ties his loose coat sleeves around your wrists, just barely enough to cover them and hold loosely onto each one. He pulls whatever bare knot he makes as tight as he can with what little fabric he has. While you could easily just tug it off, the bare knot is enough to put some pressure on your skin.

“That’s not really going to hold me,” you remark uncertainly. Yosuke chuckles.

“It’s not meant to. It’s just for the sake of the sensation, my dear. You are quite used to being held down, after all.”

You frown. “You don’t usually give me a choice.”

“Oh? Then shall I go get some rope, pet?” His jest makes you pout. “Now, keep your hands down at your sides. I want you to refrain from holding onto me while I fuck you.”

“Why?”

Yosuke shakes his head disapprovingly. “You did all the work on the chair, I’ll take care of you here. Don’t worry so much about your pleasure. I know how to make you come, dear.”

He follows this with a playful rub of his warm palm along your inner thigh, leaving you to curl your toes again instinctively. Your head turns away as Yosuke then raises the hem of your gown enough to expose your stomach and your lower body. His fingers graze your panties, which in all the movement had somewhat shifted back in place.

“You’re soaking,” he remarks eagerly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. But now it’s time for these to come off.”

You lay still as Yosuke brings his fingers up to the lining of your underwear and tugs them off until they slip off your ankles. Once your pussy is bare, he spreads your legs with both hands and observes your cunt.

“It’s still so tender,” he teases while proceeding to run his fingers along your folds and thumb a little at your clit. “But surely it could use more attention.”

When his fingers slip in, you let out an instinctive, deep huff of breath in anticipation. Yosuke gazes at you with a smirk on his lips, and without warning, he pumps and slides his fingers quite sporadically into your cunt, leaving your hips wriggling around as your excitement from before slowly returns. When you finally start to want more of it, Yosuke snaps his hand away, taking his fingers promptly out of you.

“Hm?” He tilts his head a bit. “You’re suddenly so eager for it again. You were being fussy just a minute ago.”

You grit your teeth at him. “Don’t confuse me like that!”

“If you want my fingers, ask for them,” your doctor grins. “Dear.”

He then bends down and hovers atop your body, running his knuckles sweetly along your cheek. His face remains atop yours, his olive eyes cheekily watching your frustration. “Or is it something else you want to beg for? Something bigger?”

“I’m not dignifying you with a response,” you refuse. Yosuke smirks.

“I won’t fuck you if you don’t.”

Your eyes shut in annoyance, but Yosuke continues to pester you. While one arm balances him, he uses his free hand to slip a thumb past your lips, and against your tongue.

“Ask me sweetly, pet,” he insists. “Like a good girl.”

His thumb slips out again, and he squeezes the sides of your chin to force your face back up toward his when you keep refusing to look him in the eye. You’re losing your mind at all this teasing, and even worse is that your doctor’s just pressing his cock against your slit as he hovers atop you, making your body crave it inside you even more.

“F-fuck me, alright?” you finally give in breathily. “Why are you being so mean to me?!”

Yosuke laughs aloud, entertained utterly by this attitude. Before agreeing, he plants a wet kiss on your lips, then teases you once more. “Say please, darling. Remember your manners.”

Your brows lower. “Please.”

“Sweetly.”

You huff impatiently as Yosuke continues to deny you until you do it just how he wants. But you oblige him nonetheless and try to put on a pretty face for him, one soft and babyish for your caretaker.

“Please, Yosuke?” You beg more gently. Your greedy doctor can’t help but smile at the false gesture.

“My, I missed that pleading more than I thought,” he remarks. Only when you realize what he’s referring to does your face freeze, but the man hardly acts excessively beyond the comment. For now, he seems content just in the gesture alone. “Good girl, Ten. Now stay still.”

“Y-you can’t just remind me of that and-“

You give a light moan as Yosuke trails kisses down your neck. Since your gown is still on, he skips over your chest, but does move down to your stomach, lingering there to give suckling kisses on your tummy before proceeding to straighten himself again, enough to keep his body hovering above you, and to position himself to enter your pussy. He doesn’t shove himself in like he had with his fingers, but does slide in fairly easily with all the leftover wetness from before.

“And what, dear?” Your doctor smirks as he watches your hands tightly grip the fabric beneath them. “Focus on this, won’t you?”

Before you can answer, he again attacks your neck with kisses. Any attempt to talk back is replaced with gasps and flustered sighs.

Though Yosuke didn’t undress your breasts, he now gropes at one of them from behind the cloth of your gown, teasing at your nipple sweetly while he begins to lovingly pump into you. He hardly focuses on speed, rather on the rolling of his hips. Regardless of whether or not you feel good, he’s going to get his release anyway. That he’s taking his time right now leaves you cautious, but pleasured all the same.

“Are you just making me lay like this to recreate all the times I couldn’t fight back?” You question amidst your breaths. “Are you really that cruel?”

“I do like what I like, pet” Yosuke breathes as he concentrates on pumping his cock into you. “I enjoyed all those times we had together, of course. Watching you beg for me to stop, and then immediately making you come over and over while you were still trying to fight me…I admit it was enthralling. But now that I’ve come to realize how much I love you, how much I want to take care of you, it makes me happy to see you want it without having to apply quite as much force. You hate being told these things, but I can make you do what I want when you like the sensation. Don’t presume I’m cruel when you’re enjoying it.”

He nips at your earlobe again.

You’re hurt by these words, but can’t focus hard on them with all the stimulation. There’s a reason he’s having this conversation while fucking you, you’re sure. But you at least try to get one statement out.

“If I don’t, all I have is suffering!”

You didn’t mean to say it that way, but hearing the words from your own mouth feels…strange, if honest. Of course, this doesn’t deter your doctor in the least. He simply finds the self-awareness amusing, and continues to lick and tease at your ears. The brushing of his lips at the folds, and the subsequent heat of his breaths bring that dizziness from before back just as strong as it was while you were in Yosuke’s lap.

“Sensitive as ever,” the man grins when you let out a light squeak. “I do love you like this, full of fire, but helpless to your lust.”

He doesn’t hesitate to close in with a kiss, then, leaving your ear to instead gently suck up your wet lips. His hot breaths beat upon your cheeks, all while he continues to thrust his hips against you and pump deeply into your sopping cunt with wide strides.

Even though such strides are steady, Yosuke pushes into you quite deeply with each motion, and he spares no expense when it comes to touching you. His hand explores your body as if curious to know more of it, even if you’ve been touched plenty of times before by him.

The change from the forward tone he had with you on his lap versus the sweet attitude he’s giving you now makes you feel like you’re being yanked back and forth like a yo-yo. Yosuke’s words are foul, but with his cock prodding and pumping wetly into you, and his body rubbing all up and down yours, you can’t think about them. He knows that, and it’s why he chose to have his fun while fucking his little doll.

You want to grip more than just the sheets, but any movement of your hands results in Yosuke reminding you to stay still. Your chest heaves breaths, rising and falling with each heavy, flustered pant and sigh. Each wet pump into your pussy leaves the air with the sound of flesh slapping together.

Once Yosuke starts to get closer to his release, he no longer hovers atop your face, and instead focuses on keeping both his hands pressed into the mattress to steady himself as he prepares to pick up his pace.

Eager to get himself off, he searches again for just the right way to thrust into you, finding that you respond more loudly upon him thrusting sharply upward in one spot. Once he makes you sing this way once, he smirks a bit. Your doctor says nothing, but immediately picks his pace up, eager to fill you up with cum. His breaths quicken, and the sudden repeating pounding against your cunt in just the right way leaves you crying out louder than before, wriggling beneath him as he takes you while your hands clutch at and dig into the cloth beneath them.

“Are you whining, pet?” Yosuke laughs. “Or does it feel good?”

Your head throws back as you’re ridden, legs helplessly dangling over the bed while Yosuke thrusts deeply into your sweet spot. You just can’t help but come before him, your mouth wide as cries echo throughout the room.

Yosuke hardly cares that you’re coming on his cock before he can fill you, instead enraptured by the show before him. He only laughs between huffs of air, but this doesn’t last long. While you’re still in the middle of grinding your hips back against him while riding out your orgasm, Yosuke leans in close and whispers,

“I’m almost there.”

You feel his hands then run down your torso and hips, before landing on your thighs. Eager to spill his semen inside you, your doctor lifts up your lower body just a bit by each leg, and holds it steady while he gives a few final, concentrated thrusts before growling out and finally letting go. You feel his cum splash inside your cunt, and being pumped further and further into you until Yosuke has no more to give. His thrusts gradually slow to a bare grind, though he tries to make them as deep as before as he watches your drooling face beneath him, as if such a sight pleases him enough to want to keep going.

Even now, the last remaining bit of his cum dribbles out slowly, and Yosuke hardly lets it go to waste inside you. He doesn’t leave your pussy, staying warm inside it until he’s calmer. Instead, he stands there with your legs in his hands, and your pelvis pointed upward. He heaves breaths in and out, mouth agape and olive gaze fixated on you. You’re still in the midst of your own recovery, head turning to the side and eyes temporarily closing, so you hardly think to care.

“I missed seeing you this way.” Yosuke’s low voice hums in your ear even from afar. He lowers your legs slowly, letting them rest over the bed before he does anything else.

You’re too limp to say anything right now, but end up being taken by surprise when you suddenly feel your body being turned around by the hips. The loose knots around your wrists come undone with ease, and instead, your hands wind up beneath you on the bed, palms against Yosuke’s coat.

Your doctor’s hands don’t leave your hips, rather, they stay affixed to them. You don’t get much of a chance to ask what Yosuke’s doing before he continues to pump into you, letting his load stay deep inside you while he prepares to fill you with another.

“Just a little more cum for my eager pet,” the man urges. The lazy position on your tummy is comfortable enough for you to want to fall asleep, but all you can fixate your mind on now is how filthy you feel now with your cunt full of semen and your doctor still forcing it further into you.

You’re hardly able to complain given how many lazy moans are escaping your lips as you’re fucked from behind. All this stick, sloppy pumping feels good and gross all at once. Your hands wind up clutching the fabric under you, your bare cheek pressing into the bed.

“Yosuke…” you breathe wearily. “God…”

The man leans forward and presses his face against the side of your head, breathing against it hard as he concentrates on fucking you more.

“Stay like that, pet,” he bids you with heavy pants, almost whispering his words. “Don’t move.”

“It feels so gross!” you whine, but aren’t able to do much else. With Yosuke’s weight on you, it’s impossible to move. One hand, he keeps affixed to your waist, but his free arm slips under your body to keep you steady and close. However, the man does nothing more than keep sticking his cock deep into your sopping pussy from behind.

“It’s squelching,” your doctor chuckles. “Naughty girl. Let me pump you with a little more cum to top it off, alright?”

“You said you didn’t want to get too dirty,” you breathily remind him, though your words roll back into whining moans.

“That’s what the coat is for, darling,” Is your doctor’s amused response as he fucks you more. “And when I finally pull out, I’ll get to watch my cum dribble slowly out of you. It’s already starting to drip down your thighs.”

You gasp when he bites at your earlobe, and struggle to muster more words, only noises. Neither of you really focus on speech after this, nor do you much have anything else to say. You simply let the man take you, while angrily admitting to yourself it feels good. Your body is starting to get tired, though, and all you want now is to rest. Doubtless that your doctor will stick around, though.

“Oh!” You suddenly moan aloud as the sopping strides against you prove pleasurable. Again, Yosuke hits just the right spot from behind, and you melt in his arms. Drool spills out of your mouth now that you’re face down on the bed, but you’re too enraptured by feeling good to care. You don’t even get a warning this time when Yosuke lets go, instead taken by surprise when you feel that warmth again spill out into your pussy as your doctor comes inside you. As he does, his throat lets out a series of forced grunts. He thrusts hard against you again like he had when you were turned around, before he finally stops himself.

Again, he hovers over you for a moment to catch his breath, while you try to process everything that happened just now. You hadn’t expected him to flip you over like that, much less for you to say nothing and allow him to keep pumping away into his little fuckdoll. Are you just that fucked up tonight to let it happen? Were you wrong to feel good?

God, you can’t think right now. You just need a minute to catch your own breath.

Yosuke hardly relents in his teasing of you after all this, but it’s luckily a gentle kind of teasing this time. While you’re still face down on the bed, leaning on your arms, your doctor begins to plant gentle kisses all over you—several on your neck, cheek, head, and upper back.

“You did well,” he praises gently as he holds you close and caresses you with his lips. “My dear, you’re precious.”

“Please pull out,” you beg him. You’re finally spent for the night, and you don’t want to keep going. Now that the rush of lust is over and your hunger satiated, you just feel sloppy and gross with all the wetness between your legs. “I wanna get cleaned up.”

“I’ll take care of it, pet,” Yosuke assures you. “Just let me stay like this a moment more.”

He pauses his kisses to pet you instead, letting you lull against the mattress as his hands gently touch your head and run through your hair with darling strokes.

After a long silence, the man finally decides to pull out of you, and what follows is a dribbling mess of cum and wetness that spills onto his coat. You hate it.

Carefully, Yosuke turns you over on your back, and pets your cheek while giving a loving smile.

“Stay here, darling. I’ll clean this up in just a moment.”

You lay in wait as Yosuke goes to refresh himself in the restroom, staring blankly at the bright ceiling above your bed and wondering if you were right to just throw yourself against him like that. It’s what he wants, but it was what you wanted too. Not necessarily from him, just in general.

Were it Lav or Cyrus, maybe you’d have had an easier time being this horny. Why does it have to be so complicated?

Maybe those who have regularly tried to get you to accept your lust and love the way sex feels rather than be ashamed of your body would be proud of you for handling it this way. At least, you tell yourself that just to accept tonight’s events.

Well, even Blue had to start somewhere.

Yosuke eventually comes back to wipe you up and down, clearing off all the cum and helping to leave your body fresh, though you still feel weak after the constant activity. His coat is fairly dirty once you manage to see it after he’s moved it out from under you, but he simply folds it well to keep all the dirtiness enclosed, and puts the thing aside momentarily to help you dress. You do nothing but wait for him to slide your panties back up and carefully tug your gown back over your legs, as if nothing had happened at all.

Your eyes close a moment as Yosuke cleans up any remaining messiness on the floor or bed, but in moments, you feel his hands slip under your body to lift you up. When you’re cradled, he looks down at you and smiles.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Your eyes open, but they remain affixed to the door of the room, since it’s in your line of sight. You wish you could just run out of it right now.

“I’m fine. Just woozy after all that.” This is among many other things, but it’s the easiest to say at the moment. Yosuke glances your way, pausing for a moment before eventually placing you back on the bed and burying your legs beneath the comforter. You’re not laid down, but instead seated resting against the pillow. You look down while Yosuke again assesses his number closely, and while you presume he has something up his sleeve, he strangely doesn’t drum up his usual spiel.

“Do you want a drink?”

You finally bother to look up at him, though give a disgusted expression. “Do you really think-“

“Not liquor, Ten,” you’re interrupted. “Something warm, like tea or milk.”

You remain wary, despite your face softening a bit. “Why?”

This makes Yosuke smile. “You seem bothered, dear. Perhaps something warm tonight will help ease your mind.”

“It’s late.”

“I’ll spare the time. I don’t often rest on busy days anyway.”

You sigh and shift your eyes away from the doctor. “Milk, then.”

With a nod, Yosuke takes his dirtied coat away, but leaves everything else on your desk.

“I’ll be back,” he says before heading out for just a moment. You remain confused as to why he’s really offering this so suddenly, but figure it’s not going to be bad if he’s already fucked you tonight.

You glance over at the paper pad still open on the rose bush image, over by your desk. You want to get up to see it more clearly, but would rather avoid risking Yosuke suddenly returning in the midst of it. You can’t piece together just why he’s teasing you with that image, but don’t quite trust that he’ll explain it to you even if you beg him like a child.

Your eyes close, and you try to vividly picture the garden from your dream—first the area with the wedding, then the ballroom, and then the nook. You can remember seeing these places only because you’d dreamt of them while at this facility, but fail to connect any of those places to a memory. When you try to concentrate, your head grows staticy again, and you can hardly stand it for long before you shake those thoughts away by force.

If only Monica knew. Maybe she could give you all these answers. There’s no doubt in your mind she could tell you a lot since she’s likely trustworthy, but she’s not too different from you where she knows so little. Even if you could get information, what good is it when the source doesn’t even know a lot herself?

If only you could tell the other Numbers about all this and get their input, or even help them with what you find out. But with all the cameras in the recreational areas, you think it’s near impossible. You’d have to find a really subtle way to do it, at least.

You wonder, then, whether the ones who tried to escape in the past ever found out about the cameras and their blind spots, what few there seem to be. You can only remember the two you learned of, but maybe there’s more. Gale had said there were others who tried, and certainly it’s possible to escape past the bars of each prison and roam the halls freely If even Jay could do it alone. But how else beyond careful observation could anyone manage leaving? And, if The Overseer was so adamant about preventing escapees, he’d likely have patched up all methods immediately upon discovering them. Surely, he must have.

You remember only ever trying to run out into that hall once, before Lucius took you. Had you managed to even cross the door to your room, would you still be alive now?

In all your thinking, you failed to notice how tense your hands have gotten, balling up the comforter tight in your fists. It’s only the clicking of your bedroom door that shifts your attention back to the man who emerges from it.

Yosuke’s white coat is now gone, leaving only his blue shirt and grey tie. In his hands is a tray topped with a bottle of water, a tall glass of milk, and a mug of something else. You eye him as he walks into the room and places the stuff on your desk, beside the paper pad. The water, he uncaps immediately, and drinks half of. The rest, he momentarily saves so that he can approach you. Once at your bedside, his free hand gestures upward.

You don’t bother fighting it, and let Yosuke bring the bottle to your lips and tilt your head back. He doesn’t pull away until you’ve finished every last drop.

Once the uncomfortable ordeal ends, you’re given the milk you requested, leaving you to assume he’s letting you drink it yourself as a little reward for being “good” for him tonight. It’s warm to the touch, but not too hot to hold. Just this warmth, however, is soothing enough. You sip at the stuff graciously. Yosuke, meanwhile, procures some rolled bandages and small scissors from his pocket and pulls the bottom end of the comforter up just enough to expose your calves. While you sip the milk, he assesses the healing wound on your foot, running his thumb lightly along the flesh at the same time.

“It’s nearly healed enough for you to at least walk lightly again,” he observes. “I suggest you don’t do anything strenuous, but if you’re insistent on moving about in the recreational areas, you can probably start to tread carefully on your foot.”

His olive eyes shift up toward your face. “Of course, I won’t be letting you walk on it when you’re with me, pet. I still don’t think Gale should have let you do so on your own, either.”

His eyes don’t linger as he begins to re-dress your wound. Perhaps he’s making up for lacking on doing so before, but you don’t really care to comment on it. Instead, you watch your doctor work quietly in bandaging your foot enough to protect and cushion it all the same.

“All done.” The scraps of bandage are picked up, and the comforter again dragged over your feet. When Yosuke discards the scrap and returns to you, he plants himself back on your chair and plucks the mug from the tray he left there. When he catches you eyeing him sipping from the white, glassy thing, he chuckles a little.

“Passionflower tea,” he answers the question in your eyes. “It’s supposed to help relax you. You can taste it, if you like.”

You shake your head no, but don’t answer otherwise. You merely stick to sipping politely at your milk, the cup now only a quarter empty.

A silence falls upon the room, but you aren’t sure whether it will stay silent for much longer. You can’t understand why Yosuke is choosing to linger, nor does he seem to understand just how much you’ve been going through. You’re at something of an impasse that way.

That doesn’t stop the man from asking directly,

“What is it that’s troubling you, dear? You seem more down these days.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you answer bluntly, voice low. “Same as always. Why does it matter to you?”

Yosuke sips his tea. “It’s one thing for me to hurt your feelings incidentally, but it’s another matter to be gone and see you in such a state when I return.”

“I’ve been like this before.”

“It’s different this time. I can tell.”

You frown. “What do you expect, Yosuke? I was scared to death, I thought I lost people I loved, I watched other people die…and I still have to play a part in all this horrible shit you do to me. I want to scream and kick and cry and all I can do is just lay there. I can talk back, but it’s never enough. I feel useless in my own body. It’s not even mine anymore.”

“You seemed to do quite well accepting your lust today, dear.”

“I told you I have to let myself feel good or everything will feel terrible. And it already does.” You scowl a bit. “It was nice when I actually let myself be shameless, but that doesn’t erase what kinds of terrible things you do and say to me. Besides, that’s not what I mean. It’s not just sex where I feel like I’m not in control of anything. If you were in my shoes, you’d understand.”

“You always fuss over these things, and it never feels better,” Yosuke observes. “Doesn’t that tell you it’s pointless to fight so hard?”

“Your advice is still just to give up?”

“It’s the most common advice you’ll get from us,” Yosuke nods. You refuse to listen to this.

“Gale teaches me much more than you ever could. They actually know what they’re talking about. And even if they are just playing me for the sake of observing and recording, they somehow feel more genuine.”

You sigh. “What do you even do here? Why are you even here?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Because he won’t let you, or because you don’t want me to know?” You retort sharply. “We’ve said so much in this room already, without repercussions. Doesn’t that mean-“

“You know that I worry about your safety, Ten,” Yosuke interrupts from behind his mug, eyes affixed sharply to you. “You’re my responsibility, and you’re someone I want to protect. I’ve had my reckless moments, but I won’t let that happen again. Not now.”

You shake your head. “I already know a lot, Yosuke. More than you realize. As it is, I already met your boss and he held a gun to my face.”

“And yet you’re still not deterred.”

“I’m scared,” you correct him firmly. “I’m so scared. But if I don’t keep trying, what am I living for? I already can’t cope with knowing I’ll die in this place, alone, without family or friends or anyone else from my previous life ever knowing I was here!”

Yosuke says nothing, though his lips part a bit as he watches your anger grow.

Your eyes shut. “I can’t bear the thought of someone I love finding out that I was taken away and used as a puppet in some twisted experiment, locked away and abused relentlessly by sick fucks like you! I don’t want to think about leaving behind a mother and father, about missing out on a future for myself in a world that might be cruel, but also beautiful and full of life! If there’s a chance to distract myself despite knowing what’s going to happen to me, then why can’t I have that? I have nothing to gain from telling others something so simple as what my doctor does around here. It just gives me something to think about other than dying! I wanna think about how this place works and why we’re here, about my family here, about anything other than the image of a gun in my face or blood on the floor.”

There’s a pressing weight in your chest, one uncomfortable and harrowing now that you’ve expelled such words. Your hand meets your forehead, and you hold your head down while trying to refocus your frazzled thoughts. You don’t want to feel frustrated every night like this.

Yosuke says nothing, but you hardly care what he thinks right now. You’re focused on yourself, trying to piece together your fragmented emotions and keep collected. Crying right now would just invite your doctor to coddle you and be touchy.

“There’s plenty of ugliness in this world, like you said,” you’re finally given some kind of dialogue after such a long silence. “But there is indeed plenty of beauty too. When I had the chance to have some of that beauty brought in to keep for myself and do with as I pleased, I could hardly refuse it. Perhaps that’s a sentiment shared by some here. The chance to hold onto a treasure is hard to come by, after all.”

You don’t reply.

“Life here is fleeting, especially for you. While I intend to make the most of my time with you, I do also intend to shelter you too. Were it up to me, I’d take you home, keep you close. But I know it’s unrealistic. It’s difficult to love someone here, knowing that it won’t last forever. Do understand why I do the things I do. I want you to forget about certain other things here.”

“You want me focused on you. I can’t commit to that,” you finally mumble. “I’d sooner give into this place than you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ten.” These words are sharper. “And don’t presume you’re the only one struggling like this, or throwing fits like this. Your mother has mentioned plenty of times the panic and misery her boy has undergone. Most everyone here has had their moments of agony realizing what would happen here. And who’s to say they don’t also feel what you do, think what you think, when they’re tucked away in their rooms for the night? I hear they put on a good show otherwise.”

“It’s all the more reason for them to want to get away from this, by any means necessary,” you retort. “To escape, either in their hobbies, their dreams, each other, or anything else. They all know how it is here.”

You open your eyes, and notice Yosuke still sipping his cup from the corner of your eye. When you glance down at your own, it’s still got milk in it. You don’t really want any more.

“It hurts me to see you hurt, dear,” is all Yosuke answers with. “But even when you refuse me, or bite back, I’ll be there for you. At least be glad you have someone to fall back on if ever you need to.”

You want to tell him there’s already people who do that for you, but it’d probably upset him and cause another flurry of difficult words. You avoid him for now. However, when he switches topics after a long pause, you’re caught off guard.

“I’ve told you the bare minimum of what I do once before, you know. But there is a lot more to it. I take care of a lot of administrative work up there. Nothing particularly special, really.”

Your hand drops, and you turn your head toward the man in awe. Is he…?

“I oversee a lot of people, deal with managing a lot of documentation, and occasionally head any pharmaceutical work or research, if I must,” Yosuke admits while pausing to drink the last of his tea. “As I said, I and some others have our hands in biomedicine. Regardless, anything that needs to be dealt with or reported to my superior that he isn’t yet aware of himself, I also deal with—emergencies, suspicious workers, prying eyes. I do nothing to prevent it, merely report and let him or Lucius deal with it. But having someone to manage things up there helps alleviate, if only somewhat, all the work my superior has to do up there while still juggling what must be done down here. The only fallback is that my only concern lies in affairs aboveground. I know little of this operation down here, or rather I know it less intricately than some others, anyway. Because my job is one attainable without all the intricate hassles necessary to recruit people underground, I can more easily be replaced, and my replacement would never have to know about our operations down here like I do, and could carry his job out normally. Were I never a part of this operation, if my superior no longer needed me, perhaps I’d just be fired. But being here through your mother’s recommendation, and intertwining myself in such a risky affair makes leaving not much of an option, though I have little interest in it.”

He examines your tense face and laughs a bit. “I see, you’re confused. It’s hardly important to you, dear. What we do up there requires quite a lot of workers. Not like the ones you know, but real people who know nothing of this place. I said before that we operate somewhat like a real company, and evidently we need legitimate people and legitimate goods to make us appear that way, though anything up there is not our main work given what we do down here. What I do is help make sure that we appear legitimate, and help keep things in line. I’m not in charge, of course. I don’t make public appearances because my job is confined to the inside of this place. My superior is still the head of everything and must often be present for many things, but I help him manage such affairs up there. Knowing about his work down here merely makes it easier for me to aid him. It helps for him to have someone on the outside in general. We’ve had many curious eyes trying to figure out what we’re hiding, after all. But I have no real authority otherwise. Knowing that hardly bothers me—we all have our place, and so long as you’re here, my only interest is keeping you in yours.”

Yosuke places his cup down on the tray. “In any case, I came to this company not quite knowing it was harboring something sinister. There were areas I wasn't permitted to engage with since we had a lot of separation and tiers, but I'd thought nothing of it at the time. I needed work, and I started here quite a long time ago, at such a basic position. Dealing with drugs is a lot of our work, and so I started exclusively in labs, in several cooperative teams. Over time, I got promoted, learned more until I ended up in a more administrative position. You know well I’m the type to keep a good work ethic, and back then, my superior had presented himself to me as someone trustworthy, a mild-mannered, intelligent man. He ran things well, but he needed assistance in helping manage things, so he allowed me that position after I proved my worth. Not once did I suspect he was more than what he seemed, but the pay he offered for this work was good, and though there was a plentiful amount of busywork, it was sustainable. Doable. I dedicated myself to it all, and aided in certain kinds of pharmacological research as well.”

“Mom,” you mumble, remembering your doctor's mention of having worked alongside her once. Yosuke nods.

“By the time I met her to collaborate on a particular project, I was already quite the busy man.”

Your hands tighten around the cup. You can't help but ask of Mom, “Why is she so attached to you now?”

Yosuke lets a long breath out through his nose. His arms cross, and his eyes close.

“I’ve no clue why that woman has attached herself to me. I no longer want to associate with her, but do because I still believe I owe her for bringing me here, incidentally to you. Nothing more. She’s always trailed me to some extent. At first I assumed she wanted more sex given how excitable she is, but it seems lately there’s more to it. I have no interest, nor patience for the same games she always plays. She seems more desperate than I remember.”

Seeing his face now, you notice something a little more than just displeasure. It’s subtle, but the narrowing of his eyes, his tightly pressed lips, the hardening of his knuckles…he’s harboring hatred. He’s gotten worse in his dislike of Mom. Ever since she hurt you, he’s been colder toward her. It’s pointless to let other doctors’ actions against you bother him, and he was once able to glance over it like nothing. Now, he seems more dedicated to you, more protective, despite knowing he can do nothing about what gets done to you here. Someone like Gale knows that, and lets their Number be happy to balance it out, but Yosuke? He’s not playing fair. He’s greedy.

This only makes you come to realize: Even if you work to keep him at bay, there’s only so much you can do, isn’t there?

But for now, it’s best you leave that alone. You bring things back to what Yosuke said before of himself instead, still bewildered that he even bothered to explain himself to you.

“Why did you say all that?” You cut to the chase.

Yosuke’s eyes again look up at you, his brow raising. “Hm?”

“You seemed so against telling me anything. Why the supposed ‘change of heart’?”

“I didn’t like seeing you hurt,” is his simple answer. “There are times where I have to hurt you, of course. I have to be firm with my pet, to make her behave. But while I can be hard on you, I’m not an unmerciful person. You’re my keepsake, but you are also my treasure. I have to polish you just as well as keep you under lock and key

“Consider it as me being a pushover, if anything. I’m in a good mood after melting my stress away temporarily by getting to play with you. But I prefer not to risk getting either of us in trouble again. Suppose that there isn’t any intrusion of privacy in these rooms, it’s not impossible to be detected even then.”

He looks at you, focused. “You could easily pass by these rooms and hear heated discussions or bold cries if they’re loud enough. One must always assume the walls have ears. However, I trust you enough not to tell the whole facility about our conversations. You at least know now how important it is not to blab around the wrong people, don’t you?”

You nod.

“That said, let me ask you—does knowing what I do and having your single question answered do anything to ease your misery here?”

“…No.”

“Then isn’t it pointless?”

When you don’t answer this question, Yosuke sighs a bit. “Well, in any case, this is the sort of thing you do for people you love. I compromised, finally, because you’ve been having a hard time, and I do feel bad seeing you upset like this. Ever since you came back to me, there’s been an undertow of fear in you that won’t go away, no matter what. Those two men hurt you badly.

“Unfortunately, that hard time won’t end. There’s always more misery for you around the corner, but at the end of every hard road, I will be there for you, whether you want me to be, or not. It’s my job to make sure you’re well-kempt and on track, after all. You might be hopeless without my guidance.”

He rises, then, and steps toward your bed. “Goodness, you can’t even drink without me helping you.”

He plucks the half-full glass from your hands and looks it over a moment. “Open your mouth, pet.”

Yosuke doesn’t give you a chance to do it yourself, and firmly tips your chin up with his free hand, gripping the sides of your mouth to make your lips part. Without hesitating, he tips the glass against your lips and forces you to drink the rest of the milk from it

He smiles, watching you suck it up without protest, though your hands grip the comforter in anger at being immediately demeaned again. “Good girl.”

Before finally leaving you alone, he pulls the glass away, bends down a bit, and plants a gracious kiss upon your lips, simultaneously wiping away any residue of the milk with his affectionate gesture. Upon pulling away, he smiles warmly once more.

“No more of that serious talk, dear. You and I both know it’s easy to babble on if we’re not careful, but we both need our rest.” His hand sweetly grazes one of your flushed cheeks. You hardly want to look him in the eye again after all the frustration he caused. “Promise me you’ll keep this between us, mm?”

You don’t respond at first, until Yosuke again playfully squeezes your lips. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you mutter. Saying anything to anyone but Gale or Monica at this point would be risky anyway, unless you can find a way to tell your friends secretly.

Satisfied, Yosuke leaves you be. He quietly collects everything on the tray from the desk.

“Goodnight, dear. Lay down and rest. I’ll be back in the morning to get you,” is all he says before disappearing into the hall. His phrasing leads you to assume there won’t be another morning visit, something you’re thankful for.

You sigh once the man has gone. Leave it to Yosuke to pretend to care about you while still being a possessive asshole. Though, he did seem fairly bothered by a lot today. You’re wondering just what ran through his mind earlier. You’re also quite surprised he finally admitted to you in more detail what he does, but it doesn’t much tell you what goes on aboveground beyond drug production, and that it’s all apparently organized. Well, it’d make sense they do that somewhere other than just down here, anyway.

It’s strange to think Yosuke is and is not important in some way—both a necessary contributor, and one expendable worker. The Overseer might not even fully trust him if he hasn’t allowed Yosuke’s expertise to be useful to him down here, but your doctor didn’t appear to take his role as an insult. In a way, he’s like Gale—he accepts what he’s given. There are more important things to him, and them.

Provided Yosuke’s story is true, which you don’t find it too unusual to be, it’d explain a lot about why he’s always so stressed, busy, and, in some cases, gone for a while. While it’s equally possible that Yosuke just said what he did to give you a false sense of peace of mind over the question, you’ll accept it for now. Presently, you need to focus on talking with Monica again, when you have the chance. Even if you won’t get a lot out of her since she knows so little, it’s nice to talk to someone and get some kind of reassurance. Even a doctor, you guess. You almost feel guilty having doubted her so much, though that still won’t excuse the subtle praise she gave for this place. Still, you’re thankful you have a few sympathetic doctors looking out for you. You’re honestly shocked Yosuke didn’t take offense when you said what you did about Gale.

How much longer will you be able to deal with Yosuke before things boil over? The moment you start to bleed again, you’re going to face a lot more stress. He thinks his decision to treat you gently is a kindness that makes up for all his possessive behaviors, but he’s yet to apologize for treating you like an object, holding you prisoner, making you take him. And when he sees a chance to make his mark, he’ll take it, without question.

You squint as you try to think hard about why he’s been this way today, in particular. He was amused by your drawings in a strange way this morning, and then tonight, he drew that damn rosebush.

Thinking of it now, you turn toward your desk and huff through your nose. Maybe if you look at it longer, you can figure something out. You tried to make a connection earlier, but you stopped, so maybe if you try harder…?

Your hand raises up to the side of your head. It’ll hurt to force yourself like that, but you can always stop yourself if it gets too serious, right? It’s a stupid idea, and potentially dangerous at that. But you have to at least try..

Your comforter is peeled away from your legs, and you swivel each limb over the edge of the bed. Yosuke had said you might be able to walk carefully on your feet, but for the moment, you’ll keep off the injured one just a bit longer. Like before, you try hobbling over to your desk on one foot, catching its edge to support yourself while you examine the open sketch pad. The rosebush Yosuke drew and colored is, admittedly, a beautiful, if messy rendition of the plant you saw in your dream. Running a few fingers along the page, you can almost convince your mind that you can feel the leaves.

Seeing the bush does little for you immediately. It continues to vex you that your doctor is teasing you like this. There’s a chance he’s doing with you what was once done for Cyrus, where he was outright given something important to him, even if it wound up doing nothing.

Yosuke has no idea you saw this plant in your dream, like he knows nothing about anything else you’ve seen since you never tell him anything about what happens in your head. Though, there’s no way Gale won’t address it, either to their superior, or to your doctor. In fact, The Overseer likely now knows about all of this already because you said what you did in the showers.

What will he do with that information? Is it dangerous for you to have these images? Others have brought up familiar things in their dreams, and even Cyrus mentioned he’s had episodes like the one you had upon remembering wedding vows. So maybe you’re safe, so long as you don’t really remember anything. Mnemosyne exists for memory erasure, and negating its desired results would render you useless, wouldn’t it?

And what if you do remember something? Could you live here pretending you never did, just to save yourself? What’ll you do in that case? Having this burning memory in your head, playing it over and over and never being able to tell a single person about it…it sounds like hell. You’d want that memory to be shared, to keep your own memory alive.

You suppose if any of your friends did ever once remember something from their past life, they would never say it aloud either. They’d know how dangerous that is even without knowing what it is they’re here for. If there are versions of Mnemosyne that weren’t as effective as the version or versions used on your group, then there’s no way someone before you hasn’t just suddenly remembered something from their past. Maybe that’s why a few people died so suddenly, or disappeared.

Maybe there’s even people in your group who remembered something. If that’s the case, you can’t imagine how much torture that would be to hold onto alone. But it’d be for a good reason.

Of course, The Overseer might not really throw people away—there’s always a chance of someone being kept alive for study. If the drug doesn’t work, evidently the man would want to know why.

But for now, you’re probably safe from that. You made it clear your dreams meant nothing to you, made it clear that you couldn’t make any kind of connection to your past no matter what. The only thing you know for certain is that those images are very much connected to you in some way.

You hate how close you feel to making a connection, only for everything to halt in its tracks. Is it something you could force if you tried harder than you have? If you hurt yourself enough, will something just come to you?

Can I force a memory?

The question again burns in your mind. You still hesitate on trying, even though you want to. You could hurt yourself for no reason. But surely, you’re not the only person who thought about this. Every time you tried to remember something, or think about something important to you, the unpleasant sensation in your head made you stop. Every time you’ve tried a little harder, you’ve gotten nowhere. Why this would be different, you have no clue.

But…

It’s a sick idea, one that won’t leave your mind once implanted there. Your eyes graze the image of the rosebush. A part of you is saying not to be stupid, but another part of you is saying you have nothing to lose.

How long are you going to stare at it, stupid?

Fine. Fine, you’ll do it. It’ll be quick.

When you have the dream images in your head, your eyes close, and you try to relay each instance of that garden maze once more, like earlier. You walk yourself mentally through the white structure you dreamt all the doctors were gathered at, the open area with the stage where the wedding was, all those bushy walls, the brilliantly decorated ballroom where you watched Yosuke and Mom dance, the fountain in the hidden, rosy nook…Each time you pass through these images, you discard any image of doctors. You run through each place over and over and over, removing one body from the picture until all you’re left with is an empty maze.

Walking yourself through it this way hardly affects you, but it’s when you then try to remember anything else about these areas that the static in your head begins to pick up like before. You let out a bothered sigh at the unpleasant sensation, and grip the edge of the desk tight while you try to keep focused on your task.

You then try to apply your memory of the wedding vows to each area—reciting them quietly to yourself while continuing to mentally walk through every place you’ve seen in your head. It winds up feeling repetitive—maze, structure, wedding, ballroom, rose garden, over and over in a loop.

The numbness grows the further you push it, leaving you lightheaded and with a pain you can’t alleviate. The harder you push for a connection, the more lightheaded you feel. Everything hurts, everything feels so confusing. With your eyes closed, you feel as if you could see the vivid pulses in your head. Every beating of your heart and pumping of your veins sends patterns of light surging behind the dark veil of your eyelids.

You’re starting to drool with your mouth open with all the painful numbing, unable to stop yourself as you concentrate on your one goal. Your breaths become heavy, knuckles white as they grip the desk hard.

It hurts. It really, really hurts!!

There’s a sharp pain emerging in your head, stabbing at it violently. You have to stop, but you can’t even focus on where you are right now, or the fact that your legs aren’t able to support your weight anymore.

Everything just hurts. Your head feels like a jar filled with buzzing, angry insects, and all around your body is a cold sensation from the floor now pressing against your skin. Your hands raise up to your head, knees curled up as you try to stop what you started, but you can’t. You were supposed to be able to, so why…?!

You have to move.

It’s not certain when you started dragging your body across the floor, but when you’re able to open up your eyes again, the door’s right in front of you.

The static in your head is roaring, your ears ringing hard as you lay reaching toward the door as if it will get you any kind of help.

You can’t stand the bright lights in your room anymore, so you again shut your eyes, but sight is only replaced with noise. The garden is long gone in your mind, only sounds of voices from everyone you’ve heard playing in your head. You’re hearing conversations you had over the course of your time at this facility just echoing relentlessly, running through memories you made here rather than any you haven’t been able to access.

You think you’re crying, but you can’t really tell beyond hearing a few sobs mixed into all the noise. All you register is the sharp pains in your head as voices continue. Only one such voice is not one you recognize right away.

You try to concentrate on what sounds like a laugh, one that hardly sounds like any of the women you’ve met here, but it escapes as quickly as it came. Once you hear it, you try desperately to find the voice again in all the sea of noises in your head. The only time you hear it again before everything goes black, is when it calls out, echoing,

“Sweetie, where are you?”

Chapter 81: Rest Thirty Three - Open

“Hey, thanks for being so patient with him. I know you had a hard time adjusting…”

Who?

All you hear are distant echoes and fragmented dialogue. Any images you could have conjured simply don’t arise, and instead you see only black. You try desperately to wave your hands in front of your face, but you can’t. You don’t even exist right now. You can’t feel anything but weight pulling you down, whatever you there even is to be pulled down.

“…it was really pretty. Well, you impressed us, anyway!”

Nothing makes any sense. Who is she talking to? Who’s even there? You want to call out, but you can’t. You don’t even have a body, let alone a mouth. You feel so confused. Frightened, even, in all the uncertainty. What’s happening?

A different voice interrupts things, one of a man first mumbling to himself, then raising his voice to someone else. “Of all the people…Now, now, don’t get yourself all worked up. We’re aware of the situation, but we’ve yet to determine if this indicates anything troublesome.”

“Just finish what you can.” The same woman again emerges. Her voice isn’t as warm as it was before. It sounds almost cautious, or perhaps worried. What’s there to be worried about? Still, she goes on. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll just be a minute.”

Your heart sinks hearing these words, and you don’t understand why.

“He’ll want to monitor her activity beforehand. Prep your report as soon as possible, and get back to your post. We’ll take it from here.”

That’s not right. Hearing the man’s voice a second time only stirs fright in your heart. You know who it is, and you don’t want to know.

“W-who are you?!”

What? Your voice? You’re taken aback by the sudden echoing of it. What are you scared of? Why?

“Please, I don’t want to die!”

Your eyes open wide as you hear your own terrified cries, and as they try to adjust to your surroundings, your vision remains blurred and unfocused. Bright light pierces your peripheral after being in a sea of dark for what feels like forever.

There’s nobody at your immediately visible bedside when you wake. Every slow, harsh breath makes your chest rise and fall steadily. Enveloping you is a heavy blanket, keeping out all the cold in what you soon recognize to be your exam room.

You’re huddled away on your side, facing the cabinets to the left of the door, but you can hear breathing and scribbling behind you. It’s faint, but in the quiet of the room, it’s also hard to miss.

As your dream melts away, so too do the voices you heard, just as quickly as they seemed to emerge. You try desperately to bring them back, mentally pleading for them not to leave, but the woman’s voice in particular washes away no matter how hard you attempt to cling to it. In the end, the only voice you can vividly recall other than yours is the man’s—it was dreadfully familiar.

You want to turn, but refuse to after the smooth, deep sound of that one voice begins ringing again in your head. You don’t even know if you’re partly aroused from your slumber at some point, or if what you heard just happened just now, but the thought of turning around and possibly facing Lucius is a terrible one that makes you tremble beneath the blanket.

What happened to you, anyway? You remember being at your desk, then collapsing on the floor. You can’t remember what happened after, or even between.

No…when you try to concentrate, you do recall wanting to try remembering something from your past, but nothing really came to mind. You’re sure you passed out from the pain doing so brought. Even now, you feel groggy and numb as hell. Nauseous, even.

You’re still out of it, but there’s something prodding at the back of your mind about yesterday. You’re just having a hard time remembering what while you’re still trying to wake up. Most everything that happened after Yosuke left last night is fairly hazy. Attempting to recall anything specific only brings more ringing pain, rather than the usual static. Trying whatever you did again isn’t going to help anyone. It was stupid of you to do it, but you were tired and desperate.

The sound of a stool grinding back and footsteps being taken toward a cabinet by the head of your bed leaves you alert, but you remain still and listen closely to the sounds in the room as someone drops a hard item onto the counter, then proceeds to pluck supplies from the cabinets. The subsequent gentle gliding of glass along the countertop follows, then the crinkling of thin plastic, then the distant pop of something else. After this, things go quiet again until the footsteps return to you.

A hand hovers over your back, grabbing onto the blanket and tugging it down to expose your body to the cold of the room. You can’t help but shiver in response after becoming accustomed to the warmth, but with your face turned far away from whoever’s here, you think they might not notice you’ve awoken yet.

Only when you feel that same warm hand glide down to your leg and slowly raise the hem of your gown to expose your thigh do you finally snap yourself up. You turn your torso a bit, rising with one hand steadied on the bed and the other reaching back to grab at the wrist of whoever’s there. You expected Lucius to be this presence, but when your head turns up and left, all you see is Yosuke, syringe in his gloved left hand.

Unfortunately, this revelation brings no relief.

You get no warm greeting from your doctor when his olive eyes set upon you, narrowed. When you sheepishly let your hand drop from his wrist, he reaches to tug your leg down. The uncomfortable angle forces you to turn fully around to compensate, and you lay flat on your back while your doctor proceeds with his administration of, you hope, vitamins. But given the man’s unhappy face, you doubt he’s in the mood for sex.

“What happened?” He drills you with a grave tone, steady in his hand as the syringe pricks your skin despite the evident anger he’s radiating.

“I’m…” you mumble. “I just-“

“What happened?” Yosuke repeats, this time staring right into your eyes after he finishes his injection.

You wince a bit at the display, uneased by his temper. “I-I got to thinking about how little about my past I knew and I wanted to try seeing if I could force it to come to me.”

“You were wrong to have done so,” you’re reprimanded as Yosuke discards the needle and glove in a nearby bin. “Wanting to remember and being frustrated about the inability to is one thing, but you’re not supposed to do what you did. The intense pain people get in doing so usually deters that behavior. You deliberately put yourself in danger and acted recklessly even after I just got done telling you not to get yourself into these situations. All you had to do was lay down and rest like I told you. All you had to do was wait.”

The harsh accusation leaves you fuming. You sit up tiredly and scowl. “I’ve been frustrated by a lot lately! My head’s just been going all kinds of directions. I don’t know what you expect me to do when I can’t get the answers I want! It’s driving me insane!

You shake your head. “And there’s no way others haven’t done this either! I’m not the only desperate one. So don’t demonize me for it!”

Yosuke frowns, but does not respond while he moves back to your bed to adjust its backing to a more angled position. Rather than confront you about anything yet, he ignores these remarks.

“Sit back, Rose,” he orders firmly. You freeze for just a split second when you register his name for you, rather than the one you use. He only played around with you about it yesterday, but now he’s genuinely angry…

Still, you shut up and do this, sitting back against the now-angled bed. Your doctor watches you closely until this is done before he bothers to leave your side.

“You had me worried,” he finally acknowledges the situation again, his voice less sharp this time, but certainly low and displeased. “I came back to get you, only to see you on the floor curled up in pain and muttering words in your sleep. You can’t imagine how frightened I was.”

You’d ask what words, but know he wouldn’t tell you. Yosuke returns, plate in hand, fork in the other. Without sparing a moment, he stabs at some egg dish on the plate and presents it to your lips. “Open.”

You don’t fuss over it, and just go quiet while the man proceeds to lay into you, frustrated. Bits of egg are stuffed into your mouth promptly. “What exactly were you trying to do, hm?”

Upon swallowing, you try to explain. “I get this static in my head when I try to remember things. I thought if I could just push through it enough, I could remember something. All it did was hurt my head, and I-“

Again, you’re force-fed a forkful of food. Yosuke looks on with an unamused gaze, but says nothing else as he feeds you. Perhaps he’s trying to assess this, but you won’t ask questions right now. You’re too tired, and in as bad a mood now as he is.

Feeding you is done quickly, and in silence, until the plate is empty. Once he’s nothing else to shut you up with, you look up at your doctor, concentrating intensely on him.

“I’m fine, Yosuke. I promise.”

You can’t quite tell if these words are reassuring to the man until you notice him looking down at the plate in thought. Eventually, it seems as though he’s less brazenly angry and more exhausted. Though, he still remains with tightly pressed lips and sharp eyes.

Once your meal is done, you finally bother to speak in an attempt to break the silence. “Did you talk with Gale yet?”

Yosuke frowns. “I had plenty of time to do that instead of my job since you were out for a while. I had to be available to be at your side in a moment’s notice. It wasn’t much of a pleasant chat given the circumstances, nor did we get to end it on our terms with Lucius stalking about.”

Your heart drops a bit at the mention. So he was here.

Yosuke takes the plate to the counter behind your bed. Rather than return to you, he then starts to put away the glass bottle he left out, likely containing what he injected you with, back into the cabinet. The concentrated silence leaves a pit in your stomach.

“You’re not satisfied with my answer, are you?” You ask. Yosuke’s continued silence leaves you to sigh.

“I wanted to know if there was some reason you showed me what you did,” you finally divulge. “I recognized those roses you drew, from a dream I had recently. I wanted to know why, and…”

You hesitate. “…whether I knew you.”

The cabinet shuts loudly, making you wince. “I’ve been kind enough to give you answers to questions on more than one occasion, including last night. That’s enough, Rose. I know no answer will ever fully satiate your incessant need to pry. I felt for you last night, and so I gave in, because I love you enough to give what you want sometimes. But since this is my consequence as much as it is yours, now I’m telling you no.”

“Consequence? You’re the one who teased me with that thing!” You point out the unfairness of his harsher tone. “If you knew that it might get me to think more about my past, maybe even trigger something in me, why would you show it to me?! You’re leading me on like you want me to remember, then you tell me I shouldn’t?! You don’t want me getting taken away, but what if I’d suddenly remembered something important after seeing that image?”

Yosuke refutes this at once.

“Were any memory significant enough, it would have returned to you naturally. There was no need to be this reckless. Do understand, I only wanted to spend time with you last night. Directly feeding you a familiar image was not my idea,” he explains firmly. “It was only convenient for me to do it that way since there were tools on your desk that allotted for this method. I wasn’t expecting you to do this in response.”

“You were told to do it?” You’re taken aback by the notion, despite knowing this kind of thing has been done before to another, and likely several others. But if that’s the case, why now? What prompted this test of your mind?

“No questions about it, Rose,” you’re firmly told. Yosuke returns by your bedside, arms folded. “That’s enough. Now, I need you to tell me about last night, and what happened.”

“I already told you.” You’re grumpy that he’s switching around so aggressively. You want to linger on what’s confusing so that you can understand it.

“No games, now. You know what I mean. Did you remember anything? Was your little strategy effective?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Why would I even tell you if it was?”

“Because I know when you’re lying.” Yosuke does not budge. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be a problem, brushed it aside in the moment, even. But I saw the spark in your eyes yesterday. I knew you understood what that image was, somewhat. Now I know why, and to what degree. A dream of some unfamiliar landscape isn’t quite as concerning as a real emerging memory that you can place right away, if I’m being frank. But you ought to tell me these things when they happen. If not me, it’ll be someone else prying that information out of you.”

“Gale?” You guess. Yosuke shakes his head slowly, making your heart sink.

“But that’s out of my hands. It’s best you be honest now, with me. It’s safer. So run me through what happened.”

You pause a moment and look down, mouth agape as you try to consider it. You don’t totally know what ran through your head last night, other than just convincing yourself to go through with pushing through the pain. When you try to run through it again, you can’t really bring up anything specific. Still, you know there’s something lingering, but you just…

“I don’t really think I remembered anything,” you mumble. “I remember telling myself to push through the numbness as much as I could in hopes that it would bring something new. I remember feeling myself collapse on the floor….”

Yosuke’s eyes don’t once leave you, though he does step closer to your bed, unfolds his arms, and grabs your chin to turn your head up toward him. His olive gaze pierces through your worried face.

“I don’t remember, “ You practically plead for him to believe you. While his expression gives no reason to believe he does, he at least lets your head go. You try to focus on whatever it is that’s bugging you, but nothing comes about.

“I think there was something,” your words come out muttering. “I just can’t place it. If it was there, it’s gone now.”

“What was it?”

You shift your eyes away and try to think hard about it. Finally, it clicks that what you heard in your sleep was likely heard before you faded away, too.

“A voice, I think. I heard one before collapsing, and I heard it again in my sleep. I can’t remember what it said, honest.”

Both of you go silent, as Yosuke assesses this. You have more burning questions now that it’s apparent you’ve been having this problem with your dream imagery. And with the way Yosuke’s reacted to everything, it’s absolute—these are dreamscape memories of a place you know, but don’t remember. You can’t remember the place, nor anyone, nor anything associated with it. What you see in your dreams might not even be the real thing, but there are undoubtedly places in the garden maze that can’t be just a figment of your imagination.

“Why am I seeing these images?” You ask, looking back at Yosuke.

“I’m not the one to ask about it,” is all your doctor answers with. “So long as you don’t make a connection to anything before you came here, there’s no reason to be quite so concerned.”

He looks down at you, eyes narrowed. “Nor any reason to keep prying. What I did was for a reason, but nothing came of it, so it’s over. Understand?”

You nod, and Yosuke leaves your side to return to the countertop behind your bed. You hear rapid scribbling again as he writes, you assume, notes about what you’ve explained to him. Your stomach churns thinking about what The Overseer might do about this if it causes him even more trouble. You’re certainly on a roll for being a nuisance to him.

“Are you really sure I’ll be fine?” You question worriedly.

“You should be,” is Yosuke’s blunt response. He hardly raises his head from his work. “So long as whatever effect he wants from this drug isn’t negated. You don’t remember anything. You can’t connect. That’s what matters. From what I was assured, lingering, unpiecable fragments are a burden, but expected. What concerns me most is that you forced it into being. But overall…”

He trails off, leaving you to frown. “Every time I’ve tried remembering, I can’t. He knows I can’t. Why tease my mind about it?”

“He doesn’t know that certainly. That’s the nature of this kind of thing. I’ve heard of some unpredictable things occurring in earlier trials of his little drug from others, though I haven't yet seen anything myself. Not till now.”

The scribbling then pauses. “I hope I don’t have to see more of it. I’d rather you not get taken away sooner than anticipated. If you behave and don’t have any incidents like this again, you’ll last longer. I expect you’ll want to avoid this kind of thing in the future.”

“But Yosuke-“

“Quiet, Rose. I need to think.” Yosuke returns to his work momentarily, wrapping up with his last few text notes. His scribbling seems more erratic now. Frustrated.

Your hands grip at your gown’s hem, tugging it down forcefully enough to make the fabric stretch a bit. Your mind is both exhausted and buzzing all at once. Any attempt to recall what the voice had said only strengthens your nausea, and causes the head pains from before to resurface. If only you had paid more attention, but even when you tried to keep the voice from slipping away, it left. Still, you think that whoever it was, they were calling to you. It was uncertain at first, but now, you’re positive they were talking to you.

“Whose voice was it?” You then question, voice slightly hushed. Yosuke doesn’t answer. You don’t mean for your words to come out, but they press on and involuntarily spill what’s on your mind. ”Do you know?”

This is a meaningless question, really. Maybe you’re just reaching in the hope that it has some bearing, but realistically, Yosuke has no idea whose voice you heard, nor could you even describe it to him now when it’s just out of reach. You can’t replay the right octave any more than you can the words said, no matter how hard you try.

“I said quiet,” you’re warned. “You’re letting this become a terrible habit. If you don’t stop, I’ll have to start gagging you.”

“What? That’s not fair, Yosuke,” you refute the man angrily. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, hands now gripping the edge of the mattress tightly. “I took a risk, but everything turned out just fine, didn’t it? I don’t remember a thing, and I don’t feel ill. Nothing’s changed! And at this point, I don’t think it ever will.”

“Lay back down, Rose. I’m not done yet.”

“Why are you so mad?” You interrogate him. Perhaps you’re channeling your own frustrations, but you can’t stop yourself once you start. “I’m okay, aren’t I? You’re letting yourself freak out when I’m the one who’s in danger. It’s always me!”

Yosuke’s hand pauses it’s writing, and his head turns your way. Lips tight, his brows fold into a slight glower. Temporarily, he abandons his work to step toward you again. Effortlessly, he grabs you and forces your body back flat on the bed. Your vision swirls as your surroundings shift so suddenly around you, and before it can even register, you find your wrists pinned down against the bed on either side of your head, and your doctor with his weight pressed atop your body.

“I said lay down,” he mutters, eyes still glazed over with an intense displeasure. “You’re confused. You need to relax.”

You find your chest heaving in heavy breaths as your stomach knots. You feel frustrated for too many reasons, and it’s starting to make you physically react.

“You’re riled up,” Yosuke remarks upon watching your fists ball and your teeth grit. “You’re scared. I see that. But understand that I am too, Rose. I’m scared for you, and I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s not avoidable, but just while we have this time, I want to make the most of it. Do you understand?”

“Who was she?” You beg him for answers again, practically ignoring your doctor’s words while you struggle tirelessly against him. “Why did I hear her voice? Why?”

You’re becoming antsy all of a sudden, wriggling a bit beneath your doctor while making your pointless demands. You don’t understand why it’s suddenly sparking so much frazzling emotions in you.

“I only ask you not to be reckless,” is your doctor’s low, dismissive reply. His eyes focus on you alone, his hands never budging from their place around your wrists as you’re pinned in place. “I love you dearly, and I don’t want you to jeopardize your own safety. Every day, things become more dire for you, and you don’t even realize it. You know what’s at stake if you don’t do what my superior tells you. Remember?”

“Yes, but-“

Yosuke squeezes your wrists and cuts in. “I told you It’s possible to hear others speak in these rooms if they’re loud enough, Rose. That’s dangerous.”

You freeze a moment while processing these words. Only after it clicks do you speak again. He’d emerged quickly that day, after all.

“…How much did you hear?”

“Enough to concern me.” Yosuke frowns. “Coupled with all this today, it’s not exactly pleasing. I have many reasons to worry.”

“How much?” You insist once more, fists clenching further. Yosuke exhales through his nose.

“You two mentioned dying.” He’s blunt. “I have reason to be wary of Monica now having heard what I did. Her questionable purpose in this place concerns me little, and I find myself pleased knowing she’s kind to you. However, I’d certainly hate to think you two were conspiring to leave. Especially by any means necessary.”

His grip tightens further, and you wince. “It’s not like that. It’s just a pointless wish of mine. Please, you’re hurting me.”

Your initial frustration has now been overshadowed by unease. Fear. Yosuke’s acting so strange suddenly.

“What hurts me is seeing you fight this hard knowing how dangerous it is.”

“Yosuke, I know running is risky!” You try to reassure him. “I’m afraid of what might happen if I tried. I’ve had nightmares since I came back from being confined. You don’t understand!”

“Yes, you mutter and shake in your sleep quite often these days,” Yosuke notes unhappily. “Dreams entailing what, Rose?”

Your eyes shift uncomfortably away as Yosuke’s keep straight on you. Your capacity to fidget and fight has hindered now that fear has taken hold. “Your boss, hunting me down. Him and Lucius both.”

“And that’s precisely what will happen if you try to run,” you’re reminded. Yosuke’s voice is still low even now, his face unamused. Each time you glimpse it leaves you uneasy. “I don’t want you being that stupid, Rose. Your only option is to stay here, where it’s safe, isn’t it? To let go of these desires of yours and just accept things. You keep hurting yourself by fighting. It worries me. Every day I have to deal with this, you worry me.”

“Y-Yosuke-“

“I have no intentions of letting you go, Rose,” you’re interrupted. “Him, I can’t fight, even when I’d like to. What happens here, I can’t prevent. But you? I’m still in control of you. Here, I will be by your side at all times. If you try to run, I will follow you. The only way you’re ever going to leave this place is if it’s with me. Do you understand?”

You shake your head slightly, in disbelief. “You’re freaking me out…!”

Yosuke hardly acknowledges this.

“That said, dearest, you’ll come to find that leaving isn’t so easy. Not for you, and not for me,” he reminds you. “So long as my superior and his guard dog remain alive, they will come after anyone who threatens this place, and this work. This operation may be small, and perhaps that man’s immediate hitmen are few, but you don’t realize just how many connections he has. We all find this out one way or another. If he wants you, he will find you, no matter where you hide. It’s better for you to be a good girl and stay here, without question. No more fighting the facility, or your lost memory. It’s the safest option for us both.”

“B-but-“ You’re interrupted by a hand clamping down on your mouth, tight and hard. You hadn’t even registered your doctor slipping it down from your wrist. Struggling against him is a futile effort, but you’re too shocked by his words and his threatening tone to bother. You remain beneath your doctor, eyes wide, fingers curled around his wrist as if pleading for release.

“My dear, please understand,” he speaks calmly. “I don’t want you getting hurt more than you’ll already be in your time here. There are things I can’t help, but there are also things that I can. If you keep doing this to yourself, then I’ll have to find ways to prevent such self-inflicted harm.”

He leans his head in closer to your ear. “If I have to restrain you, I will. If I have to tie you to the bed to keep you in it, or gag you to keep you from asking more and more questions, I will. And if that isn’t enough…”

Finally, his hand lifts from your mouth, only it starts to trail down, rather than back up. You start to tremble when your doctor’s fingertips graze the skin of your exposed throat.

“…Perhaps I’ll have to resort to worse methods.”

You say nothing, letting memories of your confinement again flood into your mind at the mere suggestion of silence. Your eyes remain wide, lip trembling as all the things you endured in that room replay in your head, with you helpless to stop the flood.

“Rose, don’t leave me to make those horrible choices.” Yosuke’s grip on your one wrist is as tight as ever. Even though he’s attempting to keep calm and focused, you hear just a hint of pleading in his voice. Even he doesn’t want this. “Be obedient, for your sake.”

He seems to want to take the threat back when he sees your completely shaken profile. He gazes upon you and scrunches his brows together a moment, fighting with a thought before he lets his face soften.

“Dear, don’t be frightened—I won’t ever let things come to that unless I absolutely have to. But you need to be sure it doesn’t come to that.”

You don’t stir or fret beneath your doctor anymore as his free palm then cups your cheek and rubs at it delicately.

“If you behave, I’ll treat you like a princess,” Yosuke assures you sweetly, attempting to change his tune. It’s as much a grasp at bringing comfort to himself as to you. “And I’ll give my princess plenty of rewards.”

Even when you feel Yosuke’s hand trail down your body and rub against your inner thigh, you don’t move. Even when he trails your slit with his fingers and purrs in your ears, you stare up at the ceiling in shock.

“After all, there are plenty of ways to reward you, aren’t there?” You’re left with a kiss planted on your cheek, before Yosuke pulls away from you to examine your frozen face. He frowns, then, and lets out a light sigh. His hand that had been gripping at your wrist now loosens, and instead moves to the bed so that he can balance himself atop you. His other hand trails back up to your head to pet it gently.

“Don’t fret, my dear,” he tries to be comforting despite the fright he gave you just now, but you’ve long since turned your head away from him. You can’t see his face now, and have no clue whether the hints of remorse he’s shown were genuine beyond through the hushed tone of his voice. It’s difficult to process at the moment. “I’m sorry. I will still be gentle with you for now. You haven’t had as many major setbacks lately, but I want you to let this incident remind you how important it is that you behave, and do as I say. Alright?”

You don’t answer, still rattled by everything. You only shakily move to clutch at your arms and shift your gaze away from Yosuke, something he doesn’t take offense to and simply continues to try comforting you over.

“As for Monica,” he answers the question he knows is being held in your mind. “I know very little about her, but she’s of no concern to me, moreso my superior. I don’t care at all what she’s hiding, so long as she doesn’t lead you astray, or conspire with you as I feared she might have been. Does that make you feel better?”

It dawns on you that he has no idea who Monica really was before she showed up in this sector. Then does anyone else? Or are they all oblivious?

Regardless, when you don’t even nod, your doctor sighs again.

“Promise me you’ll stay.”

Your mouth stays tightly shut as you attempt to hold in your budding desire to cry out or slap him in response. All you do is take in shaky, frustrated breaths from your nose, and let your eyes swell with pressure as you force yourself not to cry.

Yosuke awaits an answer quietly for a while, but does not get angry when you refuse to say what he wants. And, strangely, he doesn’t force you to say it either. He simply pulls away, subtle melancholy on his profile as he watches you on the bed.

“Alright, Rose. Stay still for a little longer while I finish my report. Think about what I said, for your sake.”

The quiet time apart allows you to try coming down from your upset, and allows your doctor to focus on other things. Perhaps he’s upset too, but you don’t care what he feels. How dare he threaten you that way.

How fucking dare he.

---

Perhaps you can safely say things have died down once your doctor’s report is done, but you still have every reason to be upset. Whether he truly understands or not just why you’re so livid and frightened all at once hardly matters. But, of course, your own feelings don’t matter in the grand scheme of things either, and Yosuke makes that passively clear by not acknowledging the earlier tense moment as he continues to treat you like a helpless captive.

He tucks his work under his armpit, and quietly scoops your body in his arms. You don’t feel much like talking anymore, so you stay quiet and go limp as he holds you. The sooner you get to your friends and let all this melt away, the better.

“Rose, are you alright?”

You grimace at the acknowledgement.

“How long are you going to call me that?” It’s all you mutter in response. Yosuke smiles a bit, warmer now that he’s gotten over his own anger temporarily. Perhaps it’s having you in his arms again or having had the time to sort through his thoughts that’s lowered the severity of his upset, but he’s nowhere near as scary as he was earlier. It’d be a good thing, but he’s playing it like nothing ever happened. That’s even more upsetting than just being threatened with something so terrible, something that you had to learn about and endure the sight of up close. Even if he doesn’t understand, he should know better. If he thinks brushing it aside and being sweet again is making it up to you, he’s sorely mistaken.

“Until you behave, dear,” is your doctor’s blunt answer. “Be a good girl today and I may drop it sooner.”

You tiredly nuzzle yourself against him in response, making your doctor’s smile grow. Before he takes you out of the room, he pauses by the door, and exhales a bit through his nose. Temporarily, his teasing demeanor lessens.

“Rose.”

You look up at him cautiously, only to find your doctor’s square frames and familiar olive eyes pointed down at you in return. Yosuke’s smile has faded.

“I only want what’s best for you. You understand, don’t you?”

You don’t even dignify that with an answer, but Yosuke doesn’t force it out of you like usual. Instead, he remains remorseful in his expression, even if subtly so. Something about the way his eyes are watching your defeated behavior makes it apparent now just how little he’s pleased to have had to hurt you.

“Promise me, at the very least, you won’t do this again,” he bids. “And that you’ll be smarter about dealing with these flashes of familiar images you’re having. I don’t want you to jeopardize your safety by doing something like this again.”

When you don’t reply and instead look back down, Yosuke goes quiet. After a brief moment, his fingers grip you more firmly.

“You’ll lose your friends if you do. You know that. So promise me.”

Your eyes shut in frustration, but you give in.

“I promise.” However, you add to your mumbling words. “Now promise me you won’t spy on me and Monica.”

Yosuke gives a warning tone. “Rose…”

“Promise me!” you look up at him. “I’ll be your good girl if you let me have this. I won’t try to run and I won’t try to remember anymore. I won’t even try to ask you anything else.”

Yosuke raises a brow, even at such words likely enticing to him. “We both know you struggle with that kind of thing even when you try to avoid it. You expect me to trust your word knowing that? No, Rose. I won’t make promises about it. But perhaps it’ll make you feel better to know that I can’t always be at the door listening in on your conversations. Doing so would arouse suspicion, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose.” You look down again. Yosuke simply sighs.

“Dear, I’m sorry for all this. Truly, I am. But it’s over for the moment. Try to enjoy today, won’t you? It might help.”

“You hurt me,” you remain firm. “Today won’t fix that you always do.”

“I understand, pet. But you hurt me too,” Yosuke tries to turn the tables. “If it makes you feel better, at least know you have today fully with your loved ones. No visits, no distractions.”

You’re not feeling particularly optimistic. “Unless someone demands to see me. But before you shut me down again, I need to know—am I supposed to keep my mouth shut about what I heard? Do I have to just pretend-“

“It’s better you do.” Your doctor remains firm. “Ideally, this should stay between us until my superior reads my report. While he will by no means take this lightly, I’m positive now that he won’t discard you yet given the reasons I stated. That said, I am also certain you’ll insist on pecking at your companions for information. I can’t prevent it, but I suggest you be careful. Should you jeopardize any of their safety by prying or getting them to do what you did, even unintentionally, you’d live with a heavy regret. Don’t stoke a fire you’re not prepared to handle.”

“They’re smarter than that.” This, you’re firm about. “Even if they did remember something, someone could easily hide it.”

“Not forever.” Yosuke shakes his head slightly. “And the moment they remember, they’ll disappear. Whether they’ll emerge again depends on many factors. Ones I don’t know a thing about. So when I say be careful, you understand, dear, precisely what I mean.”

Your eyes shut again as you parse this warning. It’s not ill advice, but you hate that he’s right. Still, you nod in acknowledgement of his words, and drop the subject entirely. With the quiet now between you, Yosuke finally continues on and takes you away. All conversation about memory and your fiasco cease. The both of you know better than to be so bold before the cameras now.

You desperately want to know if anyone’s done this before. You couldn’t ask outright if any of them ever remembered anything, but there’s nothing, you’re sure, about asking if they’ve tried to force memory to come to them. The Overseer would likely expect you’d ask that much of them, the way you had about dreams in general.

It makes sense that they wouldn’t want to talk about it even if the answer was yes, but you aren’t really sure how you could gain that information secretly. And if you can pick up on whether they’re lying about saying no, certainly anyone watching the cameras could too.

As you reach halfway down the hall, some raised voices can suddenly be heard from where you’re going. Both Yosuke and you come to attention over it, but it’s Yosuke who reacts first with a disheartened sigh when he knows precisely who’s there before you do.

You try to listen in close, something that isn’t so hard to do with how little the voices are doing to contain themselves—it’s two women, mainly. Any other voices hardly chime in but once or twice before being interrupted.

Mom…?

You hear a sarcastic, gaudy laugh from her that echoes in the hall. “You think that’s funny, do you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” Lilah’s dry voice chimes in without remorse. “I find it even funnier that he didn’t even used to hate you this much. You did all this on your own. You could have had it so much easier.”

“He doesn’t hate me,” Mom scoffs. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Ladies, maybe now’s not the best time…” You hear Monica’s voice next, attempting to alleviate the situation. Naturally, both women ignore her.

Lilah gives a low breath of laughter. “Oh honey, you’re a charity case. Who knows? Maybe he feels bad that you’re so desperate for attention yet can’t get a real man to fuck you anymore.”

When Mom stops responding, Lilah does not hold back on tearing further into her. “No wonder you stay here. You’re a fucking mess. Maybe once we thought you were pretty good at your job, but Micah’s already picking up your slack even without all the cred to back it up. And now? Now nobody wants to deal with you anymore. So who knows how much longer the boss’ll keep you around?”

Yosuke pauses by the corner once you reach it, intently listening in on the conversation with eyes narrowed. You presume he hardly wants to butt in on something so tense and draw attention to himself.

“Lilah,” Milos’ warning voice raises up after her tirade. Hearing him makes your heart beat faster. “Now that’s more than enough. You have quite the bad habit of letting your anger out without thinking, mm?”

“You think this is a joke too?” Mom’s voice shakes. It sounds as angry as you remember it, but…somehow there’s a sorrow there that you haven’t really heard before either. Even after all the shit she put you through, the mere tone of it sends a heaviness in your heart. “You’re just going to take her side like that? Again?!”

Milos laughs deeply. “Mamulya, come now. All these high tensions—you know Lilah’s just throwing another one of her tantrums again. Let it be.”

“Mamita?” Monica’s voice of concern again shows through, but Mom refuses her.

“Don’t touch me!” You hear her heels clack hard against the floor, stepping forward. To whom you’re unsure. “This is important to me, Simanek! Look at me! Don’t you dare laugh in my face about it now. You know better than that, so make her apologize. She listens to you.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Lilah spits. “Move on already. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Milos chuckles. “Little Valentine, you’re only going to make it worse.”

This only makes Lilah scoff, annoyed. “Enough with that already. You think you’re my beau or something?”

“He might as well be,” Mom gives her sharp comment, as her attention immediately turns toward her aggressor. “You think tormenting me like this is entertaining? You already get everything you want, little whore. You’re nothing but a spoiled rotten brat. But that favor of yours is going to run out someday too.”

She then pauses before addressing Milos again. She doesn’t keep her pleading voice anymore. “I’ve spent all this time forgiving you for what you did, yet all you want to do is play games. I should have never…!”

Despite the upset in her voice, she sighs in defeat before giving up her argument. “Monica, take care of things. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You’re taken aback by her sudden emergence as her heels clack against the floor, and her body turns the corner right into Yosuke. Mom’s blonde hair tussles forward as she makes a sudden stop, a gasp escaping her pink lips as she gazes upon him in shock.

Seeing her face now is striking—she’s not angry the way she has been before, nor the least bit as jovial as you’ve seen her. For the first time, she’s completely hurt. The color in her face is paler than usual, and the bottom lashes of her eyes are slightly wet. She glances you and Yosuke over for a split second, but your doctor looks away rather than acknowledge her.

Neither doctor exchanges a word. Mom simply lets out a flustered huff at his lack of reaction and pushes past him, keeping her head down while her heels rapidly clack against the hard floor.

“You didn’t have to go that far, you know,” Monica chimes in unhappily. “My…I haven’t seen her that upset in a while.”

“She needs to be humbled,” Lilah defends herself. “I’m sick of that little ‘mommy’ personality of hers. If that’s her thing, what the fuck ever, but she’s gone way too far with it. This isn’t some shitty playhouse. The rest of us have our fun, but we’re not that goddamn disillusioned. We know what we’re here for. She’s forgotten.”

“Proud words for a spoiled girl,” Milos teases her with a gruff laugh of amusement. While Yosuke keeps quiet and no doubt thinks about something private, you hear the sound of fabric briefly being impacted.

“And you,” Lilah talks back to Milos in anger. “I don’t need your goddamned help. Do that again and I’ll-”

“Did I say I was helping?” Milos cuts her off with amusement in his voice. “I’ve no reason to take sides. You two are both getting riled up over nothing. You’re women acting as petty as girls do.”

“Well you are in the middle of all this,” Monica notes with a sigh. “You could at least try to quell the both of them.”

“Hey lady, I’m right here,” Lilah retorts in annoyance. “Look, stay out of this, it’s beyond you. You’re too much of a goody two shoes to handle this drama shit anyway. Just take care of filing my report for me, alright? Someone’s got to, now that the secretary’s walked off.”

She snorts. “Honestly, the one thing she’s still here for and she doesn’t even do that right.”

Yosuke gives a subtle, low groan from his throat as he hears Lilah preparing to wrap up the conversation. He and you both know facing her and Milos is unavoidable. Having to see either doctor is no more pleasing to you than him.

Without dawdling further, Yosuke pushes past the fiasco with mom and turns the corner. Monica, brown brows upturned in concern, looks right at you upon your emergence, but says nothing. Lilah, however, from the left wall by the office door, locks her icy eyes onto you and immediately glowers.

“You…”

Yosuke clutches you tighter as Lilah makes her move. Coat flapping behind her, she steps forward. Her purple lips spread out to bare her toothy scowl. “Finally, you’re out of that shithole. I’ve got a bone to pick with you, runt.”

Before she can move much further, her shoulder is immediately latched onto by Milos’ large hand. He frowns at her disapprovingly.

“You have work to do, Lilah,” he warns. “As entertaining as it is, you don’t have time to start more fires, do you?”

Your heart beats faster as Lilah’s intense, focused gaze grows more furious, but she acknowledges her coworkers words with a bitter huff and audible groan of annoyance.

“God, whatever!”

In a hurry, she shoves past you and the unacknowledged Yosuke to the other side of the hall, toward the locked doors. After putting her code in with rapid, angry key presses, she disappears behind it, and the doors promptly shut her away.

With both women gone, Milos sets his dark gaze upon you, then your doctor, and lets out a bellowing laugh.

“Back from the dead, this one,” he remarks amusedly. “I’ve heard quite a lot about what went on, Chisaka. Good to see you have your charge back.”

Yosuke hardly responds, too bothered to even try feigning politeness. You can’t tell if his upset is from Lilah, Mom, Milos, or something else, but you’re put off by all of it yourself. Picking up your doctor’s anger only leaves your own nerves unsettled.

When Milos gets no answer, he smirks and teases Yosuke. “Now where are those usual manners of yours? Don’t tell me you lost your voice and your Number.”

“Don’t you have things you should be doing too?” Yosuke sharply responds, brows lowered and face tense. “Simanek.”

“You do as well, Chisaka. You’re late today.” the burly man turns this remark against your doctor playfully. You look up at the hulking Milos with a frightful gaze as he steps forward and reaches a hand out to squeeze your chin. “Well, just like you, your little pup seems quiet today.”

Yosuke’s olive eyes remain furiously focused on Milos as he toys with you, but he says nothing.

“Speak, little pup,” Milos orders you in jest. “Come on.”

“Monica, open the gate,” Yosuke calls out, eyes unrelenting. His voice remains at a normal level, but it’s laden with a seething anger. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Ah, right!” Monica does not hesitate to take the chance to escape the tension momentarily, though she does give you a rather worried glance before running into the office.

You shake in Yosuke’s arms, but keep your eyes focused on Milos as he watches you try to face him with courage. The smirk on his plump lips does not falter.

“Your little one seems broken,” he tells Yosuke, dropping his hand finally. “Shall I fix her?”

“You have more to focus on than that. Why are you even here to begin with when you don’t usually have business with the office? It’s not like you to make an appearance outside of throwing your own girl behind the gate like trash, whenever it is you feel like bothering to do it rather than badgering Gale to.”

“My Number?” Milos chuckles. “But a sweet little fruit to taste and play with, that one. You have no need to worry about my responsibility over her. Perhaps it would be best if you keep a close eye on your own little pup.”

Yosuke’s brows furrow subtly, but he continues to await an answer. Milos eventually comes around to answering his question.

“I was accompanying Lilah on her way to deliver another report, but it seems she was particularly feisty today and stopped to antagonize our Mamulya,” is the frightful man’s casual answer. “There’s no peace with scorned women like them. It’s amusing, but a chore all the same. Luckily Lilah’s leash is still on when it comes to me. But I’m quite surprised you let Mamulya pass by without at least trying to talk to her.”

“She’s no responsibility of mine.” The gate opens once Yosuke says this, but Milos does not step out of his way. He stands still, hands slipping into his pockets, with a knowing smile on his disgusting face as he watches your doctor quietly bite his tongue. Rather than keep trying to talk, Milos waits, but Yosuke does not bother to engage. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Yosuke moves past the hulking man, who’s dark eyes trail you as you’re brought forward. You both lock gazes for just a moment, but it’s enough to unsettle you deeply.

Monica emerges from the office, but stops when she catches sight of Yosuke pushing past. Only then does your doctor pause to look her way. He thinks for a moment on whether to say anything to her, but ultimately decides not to and instead ferries you through the gate. Monica gives a few “uh’s” and “um’s” as if trying to decide on whether to stop him or speak to you, but he hardly gives her the chance.

Rather than take you to any room, Yosuke for once decides to drop one of his arms from your body, and lets you slide down until your feet are touching the floor. You remain leaning against his arm for support.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs quietly, so as not to let Milos hear. Despite the anger still slightly present in his olive eyes, he tries to soften himself for you. “It’s alright, dear. Just forget about it.”

You want to say something. You should say something. But, honestly you don’t know what the hell to say right now. The encounter frightened you, pissed off your doctor to no end, and you’re still so frazzled from everything that happened last night and this morning that this whole situation just leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, like medicine. You have no idea how to take in all of what just happened.

Yosuke frowns. “Don’t concern yourself with any of this. Now, I’ve got to go. Relax for today. Alright?”

You sigh, but agree. Yosuke helps hold onto you while you test walking on your foot. You can't stay on it for too long at a time, but find it’s feasible to walk on it so long as you angle it a strange way, either on its edge or right at the heel where there’s just a tiny bit of flesh that wasn’t cut. The cushion of the bandaging job your doctor did last night is at least feasible enough to help this further.

Yosuke hardly seems pleased watching you have to walk, but with Milos still lingering behind him and fully willing to tease the man, he evidently doesn’t have the time or focus to keep going with his usual spiel. The way his eyes shift to the side as if in want to look behind him makes his bitterness that much more apparent. Regardless, he leaves you with a kiss, and promptly walks off. He waits before the gate once he’s crossed it, making sure it guards you from Milos before he leaves.

Milos, now having turned, has folded his arms by now and simply watches your doctor with a smile on his face. Neither man says a word, and Yosuke doesn’t bother sticking around to wait for him to start saying any. His only other acknowledgement of Monica by the office is when he untucks the report from his armpit, then finally hands it to the woman. He stays quiet while Monica takes it in her fingers, then treks onward with impatient strides. Once he’s long gone, the hulking, green-shirted Milos across from the gate looks your way from behind the bars, almost with a knowing smirk. You wholly expect him to pester you further, but he doesn’t. Rather, he then turns his attention to Monica still standing awkwardly by the office door and watching Milos with concern.

“You are a bit much sometimes,” she tells him, braving a chance to upset the man by speaking her mind to some degree. Milos simply laughs.

“I suppose, but I often let everyone be as they wish and don’t partake in affairs I don’t care for.” He then approaches Monica and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I find our superior languishes over my tendency to fool about as I wish, but so long as I do what I have to, he’s not one to complain. I appreciate you attempting to be the middle woman, Monica. You’ve got quite a soft heart.”

Monica shifts her eyes away. “Well, I don’t like seeing people fight. Frankly I’m not young enough anymore to put up with it. Even from Mamita…”

While leaning against the wall adjacent to the gate, you notice Milos’ eyes wander down while his lips widen in a smile.

“A peaceful woman,” he murmurs. “It’s been a while since we had such a level-headed little thing. But you don’t have to concern yourself with all that.”

“Doctor Simanek, do look me in the eye,” Monica warns when she looks up from behind her round frames and sees where his gaze is. Rather than be cheeky with him, she frowns and keeps her voice firm. “I’m in no mood for doggishness after all that, mind you.”

“Is that so?” Milos chuckles, and playfully brushes his hand up to tip Monica’s chin. “Well, perhaps you’d better get back to work before we all get distracted.”

It’s then that he finally leaves, heading in the same direction as Lilah. After he’s left you and Monica alone, you call out to her.

“Still wanna vouch for these people?”

Monica turns her head to you, earrings dangling and bobbing as she does. She lets her upset melt away in your presence, instead smiling warmly for you.

“Ten, I can vouch for a number of people, but not everyone,” she says. “And I may be naïve, but I’m not a complete fool. I’m assuming you heard all that, so I can be honest—I see those two women were hurt by Doctor Simanek, for whatever reason. I’d be stupid to fall for that.”

You look down. “I’ve, um, never seen anyone stand up to him that way, even if it was subtle. I’ve always been afraid of him for some of the awful things he did to me while I was still trying to adjust to being tossed around between doctors . He was rough, and he almost…”

You hardly want to finish recounting it, and simply trail off while reaching gently for your own neck. It’s haunting to remember, but the memory is still strong even now. Coupled with Yosuke’s regretful threat earlier, you’re not exactly happy.

“He probably thinks it was just teasing,” Monica sighs. “I’m not intimately familiar with him as a person, but I have seen him in a few different states already. I prefer this to his drunkenness. I can usually put up with that kind of thing, but this incident really bothered me. I meant what I said about people fighting.”

“You’re used to this kind of thing? From him?”

Monica nods. “Believe me, I’ve had to deal with many men like him in the real world. Really, when I was younger and more riled up, I used to fight with other girls over the attention of boys who really didn’t respect me. I had to learn my lesson with age and experience. I know I’m desperate sometimes for people to acknowledge me, but even I have limits. Other people never really learn their lessons, though.”

“Like Mom?”

“Yes,” Monica nods. “Certain consequences of her actions are hard to bear for her. Some things are just too personal. I don’t know much about her relationship to him, but he and Lilah seem to strike a nerve with her. She’s usually jovial with him, though. It’s Lilah she truly can’t stand. I wouldn’t know why, but I can guess.”

You look back up at the doctor and drop your hand. “That whole thing was really unexpected. I’ve seen her angry before, but never down like that. When she turned the corner, she looked beaten. It’s kind of sad, and I don’t like the idea of feeling sad for that woman.”

Monica frowns a bit. “Maybe I’d have agreed once. She’s frightening, but still flawed like anyone here. In any case, she’ll be back to her bouncy old self in no time. She’s like that. Her moods shift quite a lot, but she has age and experience of her own, even if she’s younger than I am. Maybe you don’t believe it given how much of her worst behaviors you’ve probably seen, but Mamita knows when to push things aside sometimes. Even when it might hurt to.”

The usually sprightly doctor then sighs a bit. “Well, we shouldn’t talk about it anymore. My boss won’t like us talking like this, the way he didn’t when we were a little more open to each other back during your confinement. I’d rather he not start snapping at me again for being wordy. As it is, he’s probably going to have to have a word with one of them about what you overheard. You should go, so I can get back to organizing all this paperwork. But I’m glad to see that your foot’s healing. Your cheek’s doing much better too.”

Your hand grazes the mentioned cheek. The skin is still a bit bumpy and dry, but certainly closed up.

When you’ve been reminded, you suppose Monica’s right—having heard what you did is cause for alarm. But it was anyone’s fault but yours this time. Still, you didn’t hear anything significant or jeopardizing to The Overseer’s work. All you know is that Mom and Lilah have a hatred for one another, something you’d already learned. The Overseer might not realize you already knew Milos’ connection to either woman, but you guess now he has reason to think you’d be able to piece it together. Perhaps Mom was involved with Milos as Lilah once was, even if neither woman is anymore.

How catty it all is. If you could bring yourself to laugh at the image of The Overseer watching his workers act like arguing children and being careless about their words, you would. But you hardly feel like laughing.

Monica doesn’t stick around and simply leaves you be. She suggests maybe seeing if any of the other rooms are occupied, since she thinks she saw one of the girls go off on her own. Supposing so, you opt to move to the crafts room, where you’d at least expect to see someone like Blue or the twins.

For a brief moment upon entering, your eyes wander over to the row of dolls you all made together, and you catch sight of your drawing from when you first returned from confinement pinned above one of the rows. You figure one of the others put it up there while you’d gone off to console Cyrus after your confinement. Though it wasn’t really that long ago, your heart still feels a little heavy about it, like the memory is distant.

As anticipated, there is a presence in the room—only one. At one of the tables tiredly prodding at an unfinished project is the petite Three, hazel eyes glazed over in thought while her hand scribbles meaningless lines in pencil. When you step closer, you see that she was attempting to trace out the shape of a person, presumably another small doll to cut out, but she’s only gotten as far as the body’s outline. The face that she’s working on now is nothing but mindless scribbles. It sounds stupid to say, but you can relate to this thing right now.

You’re not really in the best of moods yourself, but try to brush aside your own issues to attempt talking with the girl. Nobody should be left behind in this place, after all.

“You okay?” You ask, unsure whether she was even aware of your presence in the room to begin with. When she turns her head to look up at you, mouth agape, you then know she wasn’t. Nonetheless, you decide to sit beside her, carefully attempting to lower your body without putting pressure on your healing foot.

“You’re walking?” Three seems concerned by her tone.

“I can’t run any laps or anything, but if I walk weird I can move around by myself.” Despite not wanting to, you force a smile for her. “Anyway, what’s got you so distracted?”

“A lot,” Three frowns. “I wanted to make a doll, but I can’t really focus.”

“What’s the problem?”

At your question, the girl hesitates. She mulls it over for a moment, before letting out a “Well…”

But before she can try to get out what she wants to say about her upset, the craft room doors open, and Pickle enters in a hurry. He hardly acknowledges you two at first, instead heading to one of the shelves against the wall.

Three goes quiet, but turns her head to watch him with subtle contempt.

“Pickle?” You call out curiously, turning your body slightly to be able to see him. The frail boy seems to be frantically parsing through every space on one cabinet in search of something. “What’s the rush all of a sudden?”

“I was going to get on with Cyrus’ hair, but I forgot to grab my scissors beforehand!” He finally acknowledges you, voice breathy since he apparently ran over here. “But they’re not where they usually are...”

He then pulls away from the cabinet and turns his body toward you two. Immediately, his brown eyes catch sight of Three. “You didn’t like, take them or anything, right?”

“What?!” This winds up offending her. She scowls. “What would I want with your scissors?”

“I’m just asking!” Pickle goes on the offense. “Geez, can you blame me? You’re always looking at me like I did something wrong. I know you’re mad, but-“

Three does not let him finish. “I didn’t touch your stupid scissors, alright? Look harder!”

Pickle’s light blond brows lower, but he doesn’t peck at the irate Three much further, preferring not to get into a tussle over something like this. He goes back to the shelf, mumbling.

“Look, I don’t want to put anyone in a bad mood or anything, okay? I just wanna do this so I can spend time with a guy I barely got to know.”

“So you can be buddy-buddy with him too?” Three huffs. Pickle pauses his shuffling, back still turned to you both as his hands remain on one of the shelves. You see his head lower a bit, but he doesn’t respond.

He then spots what he was looking for, and slowly plucks it from its place—a comb and a pair of scissors.

“It was in a different spot than usual…” he notes quietly. “Um, I guess I forgot where I put them. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not a thief,” Three again asserts, grumbling. “Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt you on purpose.”

Pickle turns back around to face the both of you. Rather than be upset, he seems melancholy with the way his eyelids hang and his brows scrunch a bit. “Look, I wish we could get along. I really like your brother and I’m not just gonna give him up to make you feel better. But I want to get to know you too. I don’t like feeling outcast for just being myself. You’re making me feel really unwanted.”

“Just go away,” Three mutters unhappily. Despite his best efforts, Pickle’s done little to satiate or reach the girl. With a sigh, he decides to let things be. He leaves you with a light wave, before departing from the room.

You turn your body back to face the table, and immediately, Three tries to switch subjects. “B-by the way, what was with all that yelling earlier? I heard voices but I was too afraid to check and I figured it didn’t matter since it wasn’t any of our voices. I don’t like looking out when the doctors are there.”

“It’s, um, complicated,” you dumb it down, still a bit uncomfortable from the exchange just now. You don’t think ignoring the debacle is particularly good for her. “My doctor got caught up in a weird fight between Lilah and Mom.”

You then look at Three by your right and give a raised brow. No, you won’t let it slip by. “There’s a lot of fights going on in this place, you know.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You had no issue talking about it when you were mad. Holding it in isn’t helping you when that’s what happens when you do,” you warn her. “I mean, if you let your frustration fester, you might end up being genuinely hateful to a guy who’s just trying to do his own thing and be friendly. I don’t mean to take sides, but Pickle had a point that you’re treating him negatively enough for it to affect him. I’d hate to see you wind up being genuinely cruel to him for no reason.”

“I just feel like he’s taking my brother away from me,” Three admits with a sigh. She folds her arms on the desk, leaning forward so she can rest her head on them. “Two and I do everything together. We always have. I bet even before all this we did. I don’t see why we’d be this close if we weren’t already relying on one another before.”

“He’s not out to get you, you know.” Her words seem focused on herself. She’s not realizing what seems obvious. “Like I said, he’s just friendly, isn’t he?”

“Why my brother, though?”

“Why anyone?” You shrug. “Three, your brother loves you no matter what, but he’s his own person too.”

“But I…” Three turns her head away from you. “I really need him, okay? I’ve been really down lately and all he wants to do is talk to his friend, not me.”

You let out a sigh. “A goofy guy who would rather be dumb with his friends than stick by his sister all the time seems pretty normal, actually. I promise you it’s not personal. He’s like you where he just wants to have a good time. Maybe it’s a little much sometimes, but…”

“You don’t understand.” Three shakes her head subtly.

You bite your lip. Is it better not to let on that you know? Or is it the right time to address what’s been going on? “Well, that depends on what you mean, Three. Why do you think you need him so much?”

Three then picks her head up and looks at you, brows upturned. Rather than say anything explicit, she seems to go off-topic just a moment. “Ten, you remind me a lot of Jade. You’re honest and sweet, in a way she was. I don’t usually get to talk to anyone like this.”

This is a bit awkward, but you try to be present for the girl. “Why bring that up?”

This makes Three pause and blush a bit. She avoids your gaze momentarily, darting her eyes around and trying to decide whether to tell you what’s on her mind. In the end, she asks,

“I can trust you, right?”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone yet,” you shrug, attempting to seem casual. “What’s wrong?”

“Please don’t tell anyone, but my brother is really important to me,” she admits. “I really like him. Maybe…maybe more than I should.”

You frown and play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Like more than just a brother,” the girl confesses, shutting her eyes and burying her head in her arms again. “I don’t know. I don’t want to say it.”

“You’re ashamed?”

“I just know people would think of me weird if I was more open about it.”

That doesn’t really answer your question, does it? You also notice she’s hesitating to say explicitly what she means, but it’s enough for you to gather her confession. Maybe it’s not a detailed one, but it’s at least a good start.

Three sighs. “I don’t know. He comforts me all the time. I don’t want to give that up. I need him.”

“Need?” You question worriedly. “I thought it was that you loved him.”

“I do!” Three’s head shoots up. “But I need him too!”

“That’s a bit of a dependency thing, then, isn’t it?”

Three shakes her head. “Do you even understand what I’m saying?”

You both go quiet, with you looking down at the desk with all the scribbles on the doll’s face. Three awaits an answer, eyes desperate for your validation.

“Well, I know what you’re trying to say,” you assure her finally. “I just, uh…When did it even start?”

“I don’t know,” Three mumbles. She refuses to look you in the eye again, shamefully. “I remember being so scared once, so upset after a horrible visit, and he was trying to comfort me. He’d always comforted me when I needed it, but that time was particularly bad. I was fed up, scared. I-I don’t know why, but I kissed him. He pulled me away and got angry, said we shouldn’t do that, but I didn’t listen. Kissing someone familiar to me, someone close to me…it was comforting. I trusted him, and I wanted him to take care of me because nobody else would have been able to back then. I didn’t know anyone well enough to do that, and I didn’t want to make anyone else do it when he knew me better.”

She blushes a bit. “I begged him to help me, and even though he fought with himself, he did. Ever since then, he’s been helping me. He used to try to find excuses not to, but in the end I guess he really needed the company too.”

Her eyes shut, and her hands grip at the fabric of her red sleeves. “I’m such a baby that I can’t do anything alone.”

You shake your head. “You aren’t. It’s alright to be scared, Three. It’s expected here. I just think maybe you went about it the wrong way. Your brother isn’t the only person who loves you, or who can comfort you.”

You rub the back of your neck uncomfortably. “And, well, sex isn’t the only way you can deal with your problems. It’s not a good idea to jump into that with anyone just because you want a distraction. It can be dangerous.”

“I chose not to use that word,” the petite girl mutters. You grimace a bit, sheepishly.

“But that’s what it is, Three. You’re having sex with your brother. And don’t change the subject, either. I mean it. I’ve been in situations where I’ve been so desperate for comfort that I made a move I shouldn’t have.”

Three finally looks your way, but avoids looking directly at your face. “With who?”

You suppose trying to stay quiet about it now would upset her—she just confessed something personal to you, and not sharing something personal back would be perceptually unfair, wouldn’t it? You need her to put her trust in you.

And it’s not like the girl can’t keep her secrets—she’s a bit childish, but she’s not stupid. So, in the end, you decide to lay things out.

“Well, I’ve done it a few times,” you admit. “The first time I did, it was with Nine. We got close, and I was sad, and she tried to be helpful to me. Like you, maybe I got so caught up in everything and so desperate for validation that I just went and kissed her. But then she pushed me away and said I shouldn’t do that when I’m upset.”

Three frowns. “Well, she is smart about that stuff sometimes. She knows better than I do.”

She doesn’t seem to be questioning the fact that you and Lav ever got together at all. You’d find it odd, but perhaps she’s returning the favor of you not freaking out on her or drilling her with questions when she confessed what you believe she’s been needing to.

“That doesn’t mean you’re stupid, just inexperienced,” you try to assure her. “We all make weird mistakes with our relationships, it happens. I don’t even know a lot myself. But as for your brother, you have to understand his position—he loves you, but not the way you love him. He’s only trying to take care of you, because he hates to see you upset, right?”

“I guess.”

You shake your head, unconvinced by your friend’s meager response. “Three, you really need to hear this! You have to understand the kind of pressure you put on him by expecting him to be there for you all the time. He wouldn’t ever let you down! But maybe he feels he still needs his own space too. And I don’t mean to make you feel guilty about that—you both need independence to some degree. What if you met another girl you wanted to hang around with on your own? Someone like Jade?”

You don’t think it’s wise to let on you spoke with Two, but do feel it necessary to bring up some of the things he had when you two spoke. Seeing Three’s head hanging a bit the way it is doesn’t leave any assurance that she’s grasping all this, but it’s still pretty hard to tell.

“I think he is letting his frustration with it all blossom into something bad,” you go on, refocusing your train of thought. “He’s starting to neglect you entirely rather than just set boundaries because he’s annoyed by all this. You two just really need to talk things out and stop dodging each other before this gets so much worse.”

You almost regret being so forward. It’s not the approach you should take with someone this sensitive, but maybe you’re so frustrated by so much yourself that you’re letting anger rise. Catching this, you try to tone it down.

“Three, you’re not a selfish or mean person. I can see your face right now and you’re looking away from me like you feel guilty. You obviously feel what you two do is wrong and feel the need to hide it to avoid judgement, if you’re going behind everyone’s back about it like this. You obviously have needs of your own, but I think it’s one of those things you really need to figure out how to manage without relying only on him.

“Your brother probably knows why you’re feeling this way. He’s your twin, after all. He knows a lot about you that nobody else does. But you need to try understanding things from his perspective while still giving him your side of things. Communication is important, even though it can sometimes be really scary and awkward. I won’t say you’re not self-aware, but you seem to be brushing aside the negative just so you can keep enjoying the positives. Both of you are like that, I’m finding. But you have to realize—It’s good to know how to smile, but it’s even better to know when to.”

Three goes quiet a moment and drinks these words in—you hope. Despite sitting in silence while you laid your points down and long after, she eventually tries to muster some words of her own again.

“I don’t want to lose him,” is her unhappy response. “I am embarrassed about the idea of everyone knowing what we do. I don’t think they’d really be okay with it, and I don’t want to think about them whispering about it behind my back. But I really need this! I need that comfort, that assurance If I’m open, he might get mad. And right now, I can’t stop this feeling I have for him. Every day we’re together, it just gets stronger. We’ve been together for so long, and it’s not like we’re ever getting out of here. I need him…”

“You keep saying the word ‘need’. So is it really love, or dependency?” You question her. “Think about how Violet felt about Cyrus—she loved him, but that love stemmed from a dependency. She relied solely on him for a lot of her support, and he was stressed out having to coddle her so much that he wound up hurting her feelings by being blunt. He didn’t want to have to do it, and it all ended up going in a difficult direction. I’d hate for Two to have to do the same with you, or even for you to be the one to hurt him somehow.”

“So what do I do?” Three finally looks up at you, eyes wet. “I don’t know how to deal with this stuff! Everyone’s always taken care of me. I can’t handle all the stress like you guys can. I do lots of things like play around, make things, read….It’s a good distraction usually, but it’s not always enough for me.”

“You need balance, and you need to find a center within yourself so that you have a fallback when there’s nobody around,” you tell her gently. “Your brother can still be someone you depend on in some moments, but you have to find a way to be brave and go through some things without him or anyone else holding you up. It’s easier said than done, I know. But I also know it’s possible. You could do it.”

“How?”

You look down. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you what to do, Three. I’m not the best at managing emotional stuff myself. I still cry, feel afraid, make mistakes, all of that. I’m still a person who has limits. But sometimes, when we’re pushed to that limit, we find a way. We learn and grow.”

Three shakes her head. “I’m afraid of that. I don’t want to be pushed. What if I break? I always feel so afraid around the other doctors even after being here so long. I feel weak. Compared to everyone, I’m just weak.”

You hover your hand over one of hers, one that’s just barely sticking out from under her arm. “Three, you’ve lived for so long here, been through so much. You’re stronger than you know. It’s okay to ask for help, and it’s okay to be weak sometimes. You’re a sweet girl, and you put up with a lot. So don’t look down on yourself, okay? And don’t compare yourself to others. Everyone’s different.”

When she doesn’t respond, you sigh. “I get it, it’s overwhelming to think about. You need to take things a little at a time. You need to handle talking to your brother about how you feel and why, and talking to Pickle about why you’re upset and see if you guys can compromise. Don’t look at it all as a huge problem to solve right away—inch by inch, you can tackle your worst feelings.”

“And what if they both decide to leave me in the dark?” You’re taken aback by her assumption. She seems hellbent on the negative, and it’s concerning.

“They wouldn’t,” you affirm. “Your brother would never hurt you like that. And Pickle? He’s not the kind of guy who’d be mean. Not like you would be mean to him either, like you said, right? As it is, he didn’t seem to want to hurt you just now. He sounded like he felt bad for accusing you the way he did.”

Three scrunches up her brows a bit. “But he’s irritated by me. I worry he might push me away, the way I did to him.”

She closes her eyes. “I shouldn’t have been mean.”

“And why were you?”

“I was annoyed. I don’t do well when I’m angry! But now I don’t have anyone to help me with that.”

You squeeze her hand. “Like the others, I’m here too. But don’t think that means I’ll let you lean fully on me. We need to help you get better.”

“I know,” Three finally compromises with the idea. “But you don’t have to be the one doing it. I guess I really dumped all this stuff on you…”

She grows even more downtrodden as her mind runs. “I did the same with Jade. I told her a lot about myself. Penny sort of figured this all out herself, but she was nice about it.”

“Penny did?” You’re surprised. “How did she make that known?”

“She told me,” is Three’s answer. “She was going to confront me and Two about it, but figured it’d be easier to talk to me first since we were both girls. She was just worried, If anything, but I told her why I was doing it. She didn’t really like it, but said it was between him and me. Like you.”

“And how did Jade take it?”

Three shakes her head. “Not well either, but she tried to be understanding. She said I needed to focus on myself sometimes too. I always wanted to, but I just don’t feel strong enough to do it. Even from someone I loved, I couldn’t follow that advice.”

It’s hard to see her so down, but Three’s position is hardly easy. You know what you want her to do, and maybe she wants to do it too. But there’s too much of herself attached to her brother for Three to just sever a connection like that, even if it is a bad one. Still, you attempt to be assuring.

“You don’t have to stop talking to either of them, you know. You could easily just nip this in the bud and still be happy with them. Pickle’s told me he still wants to try being open with you. And your brother? He’s said he still loves you and wants to still help out. So nobody would leave you in the dark.”

“You just think me loving him is a problem?”

“Kind of,” you answer sheepishly. You hate to sound judgmental, but don’t want to give a false opinion. “But even with my own perspective, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s something you have to decide. One of you has to make the first move about discussing it. Both you and your brother, and you and Pickle. And while my opinion is set in stone, I won’t say you absolutely have to do what I’m about to suggest. What I think is that you and your brother aren’t meant to be anything but siblings, and you need to break this expectation you have for him to carry all your emotional weight. He’s there to help you no matter what, but…”

“I get it,” Three mutters as you trail off. “I know the things I have to do, but I don’t want to do them, and I don’t know how to bring myself to. I don’t really even want to. I love being loved, because without that, I’m lost. All those romance movies I watch and all those dumb novels I read…I really want that kind of love more than anyone can understand. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

You frown a bit. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. I’m not the best at this to begin with.”

“I’m at least glad you were here,” Three responds generously. “Really. But right now, I think I want to be alone.”

Your brows raise. “You sure? After all that?”

“I don’t know what else to say. I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed, but I don’t want to bother you by being clingy. Just promise me you won’t tell anyone what I told you? I know we can’t keep what we do a secret forever, but I don’t want it to be talked about out loud. I don’t like the thought of it.”

You’re not so sure she’s handling this well. She’s pushing you away because what? Because she thinks that’s going to solve things immediately? Still…if she says she wants it, you can’t just be crude and force yourself to stay because you want to ignore what you think is a bad move. You’ve seen where pushing people away gets someone.

“Well, I’ll go, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you change your mind,” you offer. “’Kay? And I promise I won’t say a word.”

Three nods, and you opt to stand up and let the girl be. Getting up is fairly awkward to do, but manageable. At the very least, it’s nice not to cling too hard to anything or anyone, but you still have to find a way not to put much pressure on your foot for now even with the ability to tread on it just a little.

You try to carefully make your way out of the crafts room, but when you enter the hall, it seems someone else has just turned into it too, from the other side of the gate.

Whatever she did to fix herself, Mom looks completely unbothered now. Her green eyes catch you in an instant, but rather than react to your sudden emergence, she smiles sweetly. Pink lips closed tight, she brings a finger up and hushes you silently.

You’re uncertain about how to respond to the gesture. This woman, just moments ago, was completely different than she is now. Suddenly, she’s back on her usual behavior? How odd. You suppose it makes sense she’d be so wishy-washy and prone to emotional shifts, but you can’t fathom bouncing back that easily from a genuine gut-punch to your emotions. What happened back there seemed personal.

How concerning, she is.

You hardly want to linger, and in lieu of risking her trying to talk about what happened or tease you about anything, you take off as quickly as you can for someone with a fucked up foot, and head down toward the nearest set of doors. The pool, it seems, is a good place to hide from Mom for now.

She does not follow, nor attempt to call you. Simply, she lets you pass on, and you ask no questions about it. Once in the room, you hear splashing and see a blur of brown flesh and white cloth moving through the water, dashing beneath it with only the limbs and a head of a focused Violet occasionally bobbing loudly out of the water to propel her body forward.

“Violet?” You call, but the girl doesn’t hear right away. Instead, she pushes off on one side of the pool with her feet to push onward. Once she finishes another lap, you step forward more and call even louder.

“Violet!”

This, she hears as her head is turned. You suppose with all the splashing of water in her field of vision, she hardly noticed the sight of you.

In part, you’d have liked not to deal with anyone else for the moment so you could try to catch a break from everything that happened this morning and just now with Three. However, upon seeing Violet swim to the edge of the pool nearest to the door where you are, you find it comforting to be in her presence. She greets you casually, forearm resting against the pool’s edge to support her floating weight and keep her from moving away. Her dark hair is glued to her neck and forehead, body dressed in the allotted white swimsuit that hugs her thin body.

You’d like to laugh seeing her without glasses like this again. The way she’s squinting to see you makes her look like an old woman trying to read something off a paper two feet in front of her. Returning her greeting, you sit by the poolside, and temporarily remove the padding on your foot to let it soak bare in the water. The liquid, slowly settling now that there’s no thrashing of bodies in it, feels cool to the touch.

“Sorry, wanted to swim out some stress for a little bit. I don’t usually hear people when I’ve got water all around my head, you know?” She notes.

“I wouldn’t have interrupted if I’d have known you were here,” you reply. “I saw Mom in the hall just now and I didn’t want her to bother me. She’s been really weirding me out lately.”

“How so?”

You frown. “Didn’t you hear all the yelling?”

This makes Violet laugh. “You kidding? I can’t hear a thing when I’m in the water, unless someone is loud enough near me to get my attention. Case in point, you trying to get my attention a minute ago.”

Violet then scrunches up her face a bit as she looks at you. Now that you’re closer to the pool, she can see the morose look on your face much better, but still seems to need to focus. “You doing alright by the way? You seem kinda down.”

What a question, Violet.

“God, when aren’t I anymore?” you groan, leaning your elbows on your thighs and hunching down a bit. “I went through a lot more shit with Yosuke. I’m emotionally drained, I think.”

You leave out the specifics about all the worry you feel—it’s not exactly a good idea to put it in everyone’s head that you’re at risk of being ripped away again, even if they already know this to be true.

“Well aren’t you a busybody?” Violet scoffs a bit. “Might as well get comfortable with it at this rate. But sorry you’re always sucked into so much. I know it’s hard to believe with how casual we all seem with all this, but trust me, nobody here really gets to rest either. Usually for a lot of different reasons, no matter how small. What happened this time? Yosuke again?”

You bite your lip a bit. You’d decided it was safe to at least talk about the subject without being specific, but now you’re having second thoughts. It takes a bit more convincing for you to really get into it. But, in fairness, The Overseer will be reading your report about the matter anyway. Being open about what you did isn’t much of an issue, especially when others have said much more than you ever expected to while you were still getting used to this place. Specifics bad, general venting good. Right? Yosuke only said to be careful, and you will be.

“Well, it’s always Yosuke to some degree, but it was partly on me. I think I hurt myself,” you relay in short. “I got frustrated last night and tried to see if I could push myself.”

You point at your head and swirl your finger around. “You know that head thing everyone gets, right?”

“Head thing?” Violet lowers a brow. “Like pain?”

When you nod, Violet shrugs her shoulder. “It’s different for everyone, but yeah, I get you.”

“I usually just get this staticy feeling, but I really pushed it last night and wound up in a lot of pain.” You frown, concentrating on the bobbing water as it beats against your ankles and sways your feet. “I’d never tried it before because I hated the feeling. I don’t really remember all of what happened, but I do know it hurt my head. I tried to push it so hard that I apparently passed out on the floor at some point. I don’t think I even remember getting out of bed at all. And when I woke up, my doctor was really upset at me. He was harsh today. I guess I really freaked him out. Definitely more than usual.”

Violet’s brows lower. “I know it sounds mean to say, but that was really stupid of you. I’d be worried too.”

You sigh. “I get desperate.”

“Oh yeah, I know. Believe me, I know.” Violet then turns her body and leans her back against the wall of the pool, while keeping her elbows on the edge. “You’re kind of pushy. It’s a good thing sometimes. You helped me learn to be that way too, you know? But it’s kind of worrisome too. We don’t want you hurting yourself because you think you have to. Still, did you get anything out of it?”

He’s going to read the report.

“Um, voices, I think,” you mumble hesitantly. “I don’t know what they were. I don’t even remember what they sounded like now. It’s like as soon as I heard them, they disappeared. Now I just feel pain when I try to bring that back. That and kind of dizzy and nauseous.”

“If you can’t remember, then there’s nothing to worry about,” Violet says lowly, looking down. She seems to mimic the same sentiment as your doctor. “Ten, that was really dangerous. But I know for a fact you’re not the only one who’s wanted to reach for answers. It’s just that for a lot of us, we’ve already given up on getting them.”

You look over at her, concerned and lips parted, but you don’t say anything yet. Violet simply avoids your gaze.

“I may not remember a whole lot about the time before our previous Ten disappeared, but I remember Cyrus used to fight a lot more for freedom from this place. I don’t have any specific memories of it, but I just know he did. Not just him, either. Everyone.”

She draws a subtle breath and changes the course of the conversation. “What even got you into that, anyway? Were you just mad?”

“I’ve been struggling with my memories a lot,” you say simply. You start to twiddle your thumbs a bit. “I can’t remember anything at all, yet I feel like there’s things familiar to me that have surfaced in my dreams. I told you girls about the garden, remember? It feels so frustratingly familiar, but I can’t remember it or anything about it. No matter what, it’s just a scene to me. Pretty, but nerve-wracking. And recently with all the shit my doctor’s been teasing me about, I guess I just snapped last night.”

Violet does not respond immediately, instead parsing through this. Eventually, she turns her head.

“You’re probably not saying a lot, right? About what exactly happened?”

You’re taken aback by the response, but nod. Violet thinks on it again, but doesn’t pause for long.

“Probably for the best. I wish I could help you more by hearing everything, but if any of that stuff is important, I’d hate to get you in trouble. Even for as secretive with each other we try to be, these fucks always find things out one way or another. I’m starting to think they’re watching us somehow.”

You look away at her completely correct guess. Not like you can confirm it, unfortunately. “That’d be kind of freaky, wouldn’t it?”

Violet turns her head forward again, then throws it back and lets out a long breath. She doesn’t much acknowledge your statement, instead focused again on the concept of dreams and memory. “God, I want more happy dreams.”

You look at her with a frown. “You used to have nightmares, you said?”

“Tons. I remember a few of them being about my doctor too. A lot of knife stuff. By complete coincidence, too.”

She scoffs at her own sarcastic remark. “Fucker really did make an impression on me in the worst of ways. I remember having this one nightmare where he pinned me down, spread my hand open and started stabbing between my fingers. He legitimately did that to me once and it scared me enough for me to dream about it, the bastard. I even woke up really freaked out a few times, because in some of those dreams, he actually did stab me hard.”

“If my dreams weren’t about him, they’d be these kind of abstract nightmares where I was running from things or people that were faster than me. I’d wake up in cold sweats a lot, and my doctor wouldn’t even try to comfort me beyond just asking what I was worked up over while sticking vitamins in my legs. Luckily, I don’t see that kind of thing as often anymore.”

“That’s a good thing. Nightmares suck.” You swish your left foot around in the water and stir it mindlessly. “As far as my own dreams go, and all the shit I had to deal with today, Yosuke thinks I’ll be fine, even though he’s really upset at me over it. He’s started using his gross nickname for me as punishment for worrying him.”

You frown, thinking about what happened earlier. “His temper’s been getting worse. He’s been getting super frustrated with everyone, even people he usually is comfortable around. And nobody’s really holding back on pushing his buttons, either. I’m his only outlet to relieve that stress anymore, unless he happens to be in the mood to talk with people like Gale. It’s worrying.”

“It could be worse,” Violet shrugs. Her eyes close as she keeps her face pointed up at the ceiling, head still held back. You find her casual and biting cynicism both strange and a step forward from her timidness and tendency to shove others away. At least the girl can express what she feels more clearly than before. You wish Three could do the same.

“I hate being called names too, other than my own,” she goes on. “I remember seeing other doctors who gave me nicknames. The ones we have left right now don’t really do it. Not with me, anyway.”

Other doctors…you wonder who they are, but fear the answer to that question. Though, you’re not sure why The Overseer split the groups so suddenly. Things seemed more mixed up before you came, when the previous Ten was around. What happened to change that? Did he have something to do with it? Or Monica? She still has no idea why she was here before, after all.

You both go quiet after Violet’s last statement, not knowing what else to talk about. Granted, you both are able to just relax in each other’s company—Being still like this with someone else feels nice, you find. But naturally, something always has to stir the quiet. Nothing in this place ever fully dulls, even when there is routine.

You suppose today’s a particularly noisy one, because like before, there’s a presence in the hall, and certainly not a pleasant one. There are muffled voices that get drummed up from the area. At first, they’re ignorable. You and Violet both hear the noise, but choose to brush it aside in order to enjoy each other’s company. Even when she asks if you want to swim, you simply say no, and the girl does not leave your side to continue doing it herself.

However, the voices soon grow louder, angrier, and you both have no choice but to acknowledge them. What sparked the anger is a mystery, but you can’t help but be curious.

Violet picks her head up and turns herself toward the door, attention grabbed by the sudden increase in the volume outside. You, meanwhile, cautiously pull your feet out of the pool and turn your head toward the door to hear better. The words being said are not super audible beyond a few broken, raised syllables or words, but you definitely hear men’s voices, and Mom’s.

You and Violet both give each other a quiet look of confusion, but it’s you who chooses to act. You dry your foot off as best as you can without a towel so that you can reapply the dressing, then try to pick yourself up from the floor. Slowly, you creep toward the door while Violet behind you pulls herself out of the pool from the edge.

The doors to the hall open, and you keep your hand at the leftmost edge of the doorframe while peeking one eye into the hall. The voices are much louder without the metal in the way, and you come to find that they belong to the two men who have antagonized you the most, next to The Overseer’s group.

Despite the probability that you could be spotted peeping, most everyone is facing away from you, or else they’re simply distracted by each other’s presence. Your hair and your flesh should be spotted so easily among the sea of greys and whites, but with one of the hall lights not fully hitting you, there might just be enough shadow not to make your presence obvious. Nonetheless, you freeze, and watch closely. Violet simply stands beside you, back to the wall beside the door, listening just as intently without the luxury of a field of vision.

Looking out, you can just barely make out part of Sven’s body closest to the side of the hall the pool door is on, and across from him by the office are Mom and Micah. Mom, you can barely see all of with Micah standing by her, closest to the gate. His body is turned a bit more away from you, while Mom’s focus remains solely on the two men. You hardly register on their radar with how little they’re paying attention to anyone but themselves.

It’s hard to see their faces. Only Micah’s is most visible, next to Mom’s slightly from behind him. He’s baring his teeth in anger, hands clutching at and shaking before Sven’s face a few papers of some kind. What’s on them, you don’t know.

Mom meanwhile simply gives a cheeky smile, her pinkish lips slightly poking out from beneath Micah’s chin from where your line of vision is. It’s honestly hard to focus on with only one eye watching the hall.

You’re again reminded that Mom’s completely pushed aside what happened with Lilah earlier, and is letting the two men arguing with one another be a fun little distraction for her. Monica, however, is completely absent from this. Whether she’s busy or just didn’t want to deal with more fighting, you hardly know, but both seem viable. You’d want to avoid this if it were you in her position. As it is, you hate seeing conflict in your group.

What the men were conversing about prior is unclear, so you wind up being attentive and jumping into the midst of Sven and Micah’s squabble. Maybe you shouldn’t be observing this, but it’s their fault for letting things play out this way, isn’t it? The same way it was the doctors’ fault earlier that you heard about Mom what you did.

“…doesn’t even fucking matter when you give me shit for something so goddamn trivial!” Micah barks at his hated coworker. “I did this shit exactly the way I always do. Don’t start chewing me out now, all selective-like. You’re just pissy because you have to do your job and you don’t have time to get laid today.”

“No, no, fuck you, I always have to make these stupid corrections because you don’t know how the hell to measure things right,” Sven yells back in annoyance. You can’t see his face, but there’s a blur of grey from his sleeve as his arm moves about. He points furiously at the red-headed Micah. “You fucking spent all this time getting your little ‘mommy’ to train you and you end up doing mediocre work anyway! I can’t work with some of these variables, shitwad! It’s not quantifiable! You need to put this garbage in numbers! Do you know what the fuck variables are, dumbass? Letters? Anything?”

“Not my fault you can’t work the programs right,” Micah scoffs, swiftly dragging his arm down and the papers by his side. “Big deal, you can easily translate what I wrote yoursaelf. It’s not fucking hard. Did you fail kindergarten or something?”

“Do it yourself, asshole! Stop making me track you down to ask what the fuck you meant in your report!” Sven growls. “Getting it right from the source would make my job a lot easier and all this shit would go faster. Jesus, are you even fucking fit to be here?”

Micah waves his hand angrily. “Don’t fucking start with me on that when you don’t even do your job half the time. Jude’s gotta carry your weight and his. Isn’t he a little too old for your shit?”

Sven huffs. “I carry my weight enough. More than you lately. We're not getting as much new meat, so where's all that effort going, huh? You’ve been lazing around getting laid like you’re still in high school. You know what? At least I went to college.”

“The hell are you talking about? You didn’t even finish!” Micah scoffs, almost laughing at him.

“I was fucking about to! You’re the one who didn’t even try! ‘Mommy’ wanted a boy toy and you let her have one. Real fucking smart, man, real great. Could have been the star of your own freakshow if you wanted and you let yourself fall down here with us. Congrats.” The pompous Sven starts clapping for Micah.

Mom’s smirk does not relent. “My, my, cutie, you’re really selling my good boy short. He does excellent work. He’s smarter than you think.”

She then giggles. “If I remember correctly, you used to start yelling at your computer because you couldn’t figure out how to plug all the data properly. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”

“I don’t need your help,” Micah brushes her off, completely annoyed. You watch his head turn toward her, and his shoulder drop as he tries to shake her grasp on it away. “Stop smiling, god damn!”

“Hiding behind that skirt, huh? Fuckin’ momma’s boy.” Sven spits out. “Unbelievable.”

Despite the offense, Micah then laughs. “Yeah, and what’s that make you, teacher’s pet? Don’t forget your mommy and daddy bailed you out more times than you can count. I know who the fuck you are. But they didn’t show up this time. They cut your leech ass off. Maybe Jude oughtta do the same and put your whore ass on a leash instead of covering for you so much. He might get more done that way.”

“Hey, fuck you!” You again see Sven’s arm move. His fist is tightly balled up, but he doesn’t hit Micah despite clearly wanting to. He’s all show, isn’t he? “You stupid motherfucker, looking all smug. Think you're bad, huh? You’re a fucking joke. You haven’t even been to jail. What kind of bad-boy cred is that? You wanna talk tough and you haven’t even been convicted of shit. Wanna know why, momma’s boy?”

Mom giggles chipperly when she sees Micah step forward without hesitation, likely to get right up in Sven’s face. “The fuck you say? You think you get to talk, rich boy? You got a nice comfy rich boy cell before the big man came to bail you out, didn’t you? You weren’t even there that long. So the fuck do you think you’re talking about? And don't act like you're all special, like getting caught means you have credibility. I never got caught doing shit because I was smart. What's that say about you, huh?”

You see Sven’s arm move back, almost out of sight entirely as he likely hits the wall. Despite this, he keeps at it. “Hey, that ‘big man’ is still watching you. So you better back the fuck up.”

“Boys, come now,” Mom calls out livelily. She brings her hand forward and beckons the two men. “Mommy thinks you’re both being ridiculous.”

“Tell her ‘yes mommy’, why don’t you? Momma’s boy.” Sven spits out cockily. Without hesitation, Micah punches him, something you gather by the sharp way he swings his arm back and immediately forward. You hear a thud, and see part of Sven’s blond hair on the floor. He lets out a long, pained groan, but before he can get up, you watch Micah kick his leg forward, likely into Sven’s stomach. He does, however, let Sven eventually get on his hands and knees. Micah simply stands over him and scoffs.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you little shit,” he speaks low, but firm. “Do your job. Nobody’s bailing you out of here anytime soon.”

Sven laughs aloud between pained groans. “Fucking punk ass loser. You’re gonna get in trouble for that. You know he’s uptight about his damn rules.”

“He’s not gonna do shit over a little hit. Unlike you, I had enough sense beat into me before all this to know when the fuck to pull back and stop running my mouth. But let me fill you in on a little something—now that we’re here and know what to do, ‘big daddy boss man’ doesn’t care about either of us.” Micah spits out. “So unless you wanna cry like a little bitch and tell him you quit, I suggest you shut your mouth and get back to whatever it is you do around here. Go fuck your girl after work if you’re that desperate to show off how much of a man you think you are. But I know what it takes to make her scream, and that shriveled little dick you’ve got ain’t it.”

Sven doesn’t say anything, but Micah doesn’t bother to stick around for a response anyway. He hands the papers in his fist to Mom, who simply smiles and teases the underside of his chin with one of her hands.

“You’re so cute when you’re like that,” she coos. “But don’t do that again. He’ll get mad if he has to step in. Now say what I wanna hear, hmm? For old time’s sake?”

While Mom stuffs the papers under her arm, Micah chuckles to himself, strangely amused by her. “Geez, you really are down bad, aren’t you?”

“But I did such a good job of looking after you when you were still such a cute little underling, didn’t I? I gave you lots of gifts and taught you everything I knew!” Mom teases. You catch her now free hand reaching down Micah’s side and into his pocket, but he grasps at her wrist before she can make it there.

“Sorry honey, that’s mine now. I don’t think I trust you with a knife.”

“Oh? He’s all grown up!” Mom grins, face still tilted up at Micah as she likely watches him.” I know I had to let you go at some point, but Mommy really does miss the old days. So do me a favor and say what I want to hear, okay? You at least owe me that.”

“In front of this asshole?” Micah scoffs as he pulls Mom’s hand away and lets it drop back to her side. “Come on.”

“Micah…” you can see Mom’s lips turn in a pouting frown. “Come, now. At least call my name like you used to.”

“Alright, alright,” Micah gives in, groaning. “God, and I thought I had enough of this shit from all those other women.”

He leans his lips close to Mom’s ear, tilting his head. You don’t hear what he says since he practically whispers it in her ear, but whatever it is, it’s apparently enough to make Mom blush wildly. Her eyes close, and she brings a hand to her cheek as Micah speaks to her.

Once he pulls away, he returns to his speaking voice. “That better?”

“Good boy!” Mom beams happily as she praises the man. Her finger raises up to tap playfully against his nose. “Mommy missed hearing your cute little good boy words.”

When Mom is satisfied enough by this small gesture, Micah doesn’t stick around any longer, trailing around the corner while Sven groans and tries to stand back up. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“Well it’s your own damn fault, isn’t it?” Mom notes sharply, folding her arms. Her completely happy demeanor lessens rather quickly once Micah’s gone. “You’re a naughty one, Sven. I like you better when you laugh and joke, not when you start fights like a little boy. I’ve had quite enough bitterness today.”

“You just play favorites with any man that fucks you,” Sven breathes as he brings a hand to his face, which you can’t see, but his head is now fully visible now that he’s moved a bit forward toward Mom. “He didn’t even do it because he liked you. Fucker wasn’t meant for higher education. Maybe he just wanted to get ahead, huh? Not like this place was worth it.”

Mom’s mood sours at these words, her voice growing low and warning. “I don’t like when you talk like that. I wasn’t lying when I said he’s a lot smarter than you take him for. I took responsibility for him, as Jude did for you. Don’t ignore that.”

“Like I give a damn about that,” Sven tells Mom off without hesitation. In an instant, she swings her hand and slaps him hard across the face.

“Don’t be rude, now,'' she says harshly. Then, as if completely forgetting her upset, she lets out a long, light sigh and puts her hand back to her cheek. “Honestly, what are we doing this for? Mommy’s too tired today for all of this. Go back to work, Sven. Maybe later you’ll be more well behaved, mm?”

Sven grows quiet, stewing silently in his anger. Rather than make it worse for himself, he just huffs out a “whatever” while starting to walk away. Perhaps he wants to gain the upper hand after getting embarrassed like that, because he immediately dismisses things and plays it all off like it didn’t even happen. As it is, you figure he turned the knife on Mom after Micah left in hopes of gaining control of the situation, though it backfired.

Judging by the sound of metallic doors opening and shutting, Sven’s headed through the door across from the gate like Lilah had earlier. Before Mom can fully turn herself and catch sight of you, you duck back into the pool and let the doors close.

You aren’t seen, but you’re certain the noise of the doors would have caught her attention now that the arguing is over. She knows you’re in here, too. How troublesome. But if you know Mom, she might just tease you casually about all this rather than be malicious toward you over it. She likes the attention. She likes boasting, too.

When all is said and done, you look at a very stunned Violet, whose mouth is agape but words silent. Neither of you really know how the fuck to process that scene.

Eventually, you glance at Violet. Since she couldn’t see what happened, you relay it in short. “I watched him punch Sven.”

“That was a pretty loud hit. Jesus, I’ve never seen him do that before to another doctor…” It’s all Violet can really muster as she calms down from the loud arguing. Somehow, she seems on edge just from having heard the raised voices, even if she had no bearing on any of it. You suppose that’s a bit of a reflex. “I mean I’ve heard them insult each other once or twice, but I didn’t think my doctor would deck Sven.”

“Granted, the guy deserves it, right?” You can’t help but admit the sight, or what bare minimum of it you could see, was satisfying after all the torment Sven caused you. Hardly all the man deserves, but a good start. The main thing that bothers you, though, is how they talked about Lav. She’s not some piece of meat, and hearing them say that about her was frustrating, to say the least.

Violet finally calms down and nods in agreement. Her arms fold, and she leans back against the wall. “Total asshole. But they both are, just in different ways. Anyway, what the hell were they even fighting about? Data or something?”

You figure it’s best not to tell Violet what you learned about Sven. If anything, this only makes you curious as to what it is Micah even does, and Mom, by extension. All you do is shrug. “I don’t know. I think I’m more weirded out that Micah and Mom were a thing.”

“Momma fucks everyone who will have her,” Violet scoffs. “Which maybe isn’t a lot of people. Not anymore. Anyway, I don’t know Micah as a guy who would submit to someone like her, but he does have a lot of weird fetishes, so whatever. It’s not a side of himself he’ll ever show anyone else, I bet.”

You raise a brow. “Would you be weirded out if he switched on you like that?”

“I would be confused. Frankly, pretty mad,” is the girl’s rather bold response. “I spent all this time being afraid of him. I’m not as much anymore, except when he gets really mad. But for him to suddenly start acting like a needy little asshole would be frustrating. But like I said, it’s not something he’d want to do around us. He seems more comfortable being a demanding shitwad and watching us squirm.”

You roll your eyes around in thought. “Well, probably not. But I overheard Gale mentioning that he was used to this kind of thing, so maybe he used to have to do it often. Maybe not even just with Mom.”

Odd, you think. But there must be several women like Mom out there who like the idea of getting fucked by men like Micah while still having command of them. The idea of being in charge of someone is different for you. Maybe if you'd have been more spirited when Jonathan presented that opportunity, you'd have enjoyed yourself more.

“And Sven…I didn’t take him for a guy who’s gone to jail,” Violet remarks with her brows scrunched up. “Why would he have been? And why would anyone’s family in their right mind defend someone like that?”

You frown. “I guess they didn’t for long. I dunno. It’s really weird, but maybe we should keep this between us. I would hate to get in trouble over it.”

You remain uneased by the punishment Lucius gave you over just prying into Sven and Jude’s work and history. This fight and what you learned from it was incidental, of course. The men were being loud and audible for anyone nearby to hear them. Maybe in their anger they forgot that the way Lilah and Mom probably did earlier.

The Overseer could argue that you shouldn’t have stuck around the door to begin with, but you’re sure you aren’t the only one who heard all that. As it is, Cyrus has said before that he’s learned things by overhearing conversations. The doctors are just careless at times, then. And when something goes on in this place, everyone tends to get curious about what it is, or why it’s happening. The Overseer has had to make exceptions before.

“I guess, but it’s still weird to me to know my doctor actually does something,” Violet remarks with an eye roll. “I never took him as the academic or smart type. I guess appearances are deceiving.”

She then sighs. “I think I’m gonna take a quick shower and change back. You can keep talking with me if you want. Unless it's, like, weird. But I mean, you’ve already seen me naked. It doesn’t matter.”

This, you wind up laughing weakly at. It’s such a stupid thing to make you smile, but it helps ease the tension. “Yeah. I can talk.”

You follow her into the showers, and let her clean off while you lean against the wall by the door and wait for her. Looking at the other showers brings you back to when you, Cyrus, and Lav were together. It’s a memory that makes you smile, even through all the horrible things that have gone on as of late. Though, you feel guilty about it, again being made aware of how what you did last night was dangerous. If you’d have disappeared again because of that, your companions would have been hurt.

But you want release. Relief. Anything. You’re being a bit selfish, but for a good reason, right? Most everyone wants to know who they were. Even if someone like Five is willing to accept her new life and loss of previous memories, you’re sure even she would be curious about it.

“Hey, you’re doing that spacey thing again,” Violet calls out, snapping you back to reality. She’s by now wrapped a towel around herself, and has started walking toward you. “Still the same thing?”

You puff up your cheeks a bit and expel some air. “Yeah. Have you ever done anything like that?”

“What, try to remember?” Violet tilts her head. “Uh, yeah. Everyone probably has. But for me, the pain I felt was never really worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything familiar show up other than the dreams I have where I’m swimming. But that’s already something I do here anyway. I know it’s a part of me somehow. I just don’t know why. I never will.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Violet scowls in sudden offense. “Of course it does! Every goddamn day! But you know, having the distraction is nice. Makes me forget that I forgot. Maybe talking with everyone is a good distraction too. I used to just let my mind run all the time, being by myself. And before he finally told me how he felt, I used to just use Cyrus as a distraction too.”

She then sighs and relaxes herself, arms folded. “Sorry…maybe I’m not the one who knows enough about this stuff. Maybe Six knows more, since she’s always got those headaches. And she did say she has that one dream she thinks is familiar to her. I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like that.”

“Seems there’s a lot about her I don’t know,” you admit. “We haven’t really talked much except about really specific things. But I don’t mind that she’s closer with Five than anyone else.”

“Six is nice,” Violet speaks on her behalf. “Kind of like my mom, sometimes. She watches over everyone now and then. Maybe she isn’t like Five where she’s legitimately all motherly, but she’s pretty good at getting people to hear her and letting others know what she thinks. She’s a little tougher than her girlfriend in that way. Sometimes a little headstrong, but still a good person.”

You sigh. “Wish I had a motherly figure down here and not just someone like Mom. But I guess the closest I have now is Monica.”

“Monica?” Violet looks shocked. “You’ve gotta be joking. She’s kind of weird.”

You shake your head. “She’s been nice to me. Look, I don’t like the whole, um, thing with her either. But she’s been sweet with me. Gale too. But I know Six seems reserved about Gale. Pickle was the same way when we talked about his doctor.”

“Nobody truly likes their doctor, Ten,” Violet pouts. “We're bitter about the abuse, but maybe it's just easier to talk with someone you spend all your days with. You kind of have to communicate with them, really, But if it makes you feel better to find peace with someone, I won’t stop you. Blue really likes Jonathan and Nathaniel, after all. And Five? After all the shit she’s been put through with her doctor, she'd gladly take Gale over him. Gale already takes care of her a lot anyway, I hear.”

Milos had referred to Five like meat too, you recall. How disgusting. To think she’s such a sweet girl despite being put through the worst trials with her doctor, like Eight with his…

It’s not a subject you want to linger on anymore. You realize you’ve grown quiet, much to Violet’s worry. So, you refocus on Six.

“You and Six play games sometimes, right?”

Violet catches your intent and nods. “She’s better at it than me. She plays with Two sometimes. I play games now and then, but I’m still really bad at them even now. And that sucks, because I think I’m kind of competitive about it.”

You laugh a bit. “Hey, you’re pretty good at swimming at least. You were pretty good when we raced.”

“Yeah, but then you let me win. I was just distracted back then, mind you,” Violet scrunches up her face a little at the thought. “I’ve beat other people before. But it is weird you were able to keep up with me. You’re not secretly some athlete are you?”

“I don't think I'm that strong, but like I’d know the answer. I don't know anything about myself,” You frown. “And maybe I won’t ever know at this rate.”

Violet watches your sullen face with concern. As if regretful, she bites her lip and looks away.

“Hey, sorry,” she apologizes. “Maybe let’s go get lunch or something. I’m pretty hungry anyway.”

“I ate, but I’ll go,” you try to smile a bit for her. “And don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”

You wait longer for Violet to get herself dressed and mess with her short hair. While standing quietly, you start to wonder what the other Numbers are up to, then worry about how Three’s doing after your conversation earlier. Maybe it could have gone better, but at least you put into words the necessity of honesty and openness. Maybe hearing it from someone else directly, especially someone whom she seems to have connected to a past friend, will at least guide her in some kind of right direction. Granted, you still don’t like being compared to Jade.

As for Pickle, you feel bad for him too, but hope he was at least able to calm down a bit by talking with Cyrus while doing something he seems to love so much.

Something…

You only wish you had your own hobbies down here. Maybe the woman who you heard last night and this morning would have known just who you were. If they were close with you, you really hope that any memories they have of you from before all this are happy ones. But, then, thinking of whether they were close with you only hurts, because then you realize having lost you would have wrought them with unspeakable pain. Nobody should live with that misery.

Thinking about it, you’re not sure why your heart sank earlier, when you heard her voice. You can’t fully remember what she said or how she sounded, but do distinctly recall feeling hurt after some of her words were uttered. Why…?

Your eyes close for a moment, and you try to remember the voice again. This time, you don’t try too hard so as not to worry Violet or cause yourself any immense pain, but no matter how much you peck at the thought, nothing comes to you. It’s frustrating. But if the only way to force the voice to return is by hurting yourself, and by extension others, maybe it’s not worth it.

“Is everything okay?”

Your head, having hung slightly in thought, shoots up at the sound of the voice. Violet’s standing dressed before you now, looking on from behind her round glasses with raised brows. Something about her voice seemed off for that moment, but when she speaks again, it’s her voice.

“Um, I’m fine,” you try to assure her, only half confident. You try to shake this off. It was just your mind playing tricks on you, surely. “We ready?”

Violet nods, and the both of you opt to take off toward the cafeteria. Upon checking the hall for any other presences, it seems everyone’s finally gone away. Violet opts to cross the hall first, while you wait by the door until you’re certain she’s gone.

Before you can leave, you feel stricken with a sudden bout of dizziness and headache, leaving you to lean your palm against the wall for support as you let out a weary breath. Immediately, your other hand presses against your forehead as your face tilts down and eyes shut.

You hear gentle laughter again, echoing in the distance despite no presence being in the room now. You try to get a grip on things and try to push past the dizziness and pain, but it lingers just a moment longer before completely disappearing. As if it never happened, the sound of the woman’s voice leaves you again, and you wind up balling your hand into a fist on the wall and hitting it hard in anger, throat letting out a frustrated, long groan.

Why?!

You can’t deal with this right now. Not being able to remember something you heard, even if only in your head, is excruciating. You just want to know what the hell is going on and why.

Why did The Overseer have to do this to you? To any of you?!

You want to cry out in anger, but force yourself to calm down. Sucking in slow, long breaths is one of your only strategies right now, but it helps at least with the welling feeling in your chest. The rest you’ll have to deal with alone. But you don’t have time for it now with Violet awaiting you to follow her.

She’s waiting for me, you tell yourself in hopes of refocusing your mind. I have to go.

“I see. That’s too bad.”

Your back straightens as you hear Yosuke’s voice, heart jumping suddenly. Your body winds up whipping around, but nobody’s behind you. Eyes wide, you back against the pool entrance until the door to your back opens.

You don’t understand quite why the sudden panic has taken hold. But…why Yosuke? Was it just incidental? Is your mind jumbling the past with the present?

Nothing else comes to you after this, but you don’t stick around for more ghosts to appear in your head. You take one look around the pool in disbelief, but immediately turn around and run across the hall, away from the voices.

Chapter 82: Rest Thirty Four - Grey

Entering the cafeteria is done in a hurry. You have no clue why hearing Yosuke freaked you out so much, but escaping the room now is the only way you can reason with the ordeal. It was enough to hear Lucius earlier, and enough to have to hear the woman’s voice twice. But what the hell does your doctor have to do with all this?

You can’t piece it, and you unfortunately don’t have time to now with the girls in the cafeteria looking your way as soon as you enter.

The table closest to the counter is populated with the peachy girlfriends both sharing a plate brimming with some kind of a pasta dish. The both of them are sitting side by side, facing the door, while Violet has yet to take her place at the table. She’s instead standing at one of its short edges, arms folded. The only other person in the room is Blue, whose back is toward you.

The moment you run in, all the girls stop their chatter and look at you worriedly. Perhaps it’s something about the way you rushed in that cued them in on your frazzled state, or else it was Violet briefly touching upon it beforehand. You certainly hope what just transpired in the pool didn’t take too long, but with how it affected your head, you’ve no clue.

Blue turns her body, revealing an empty tray and a cup half full of milk. Her baby blue eyes settle on her friend as you draw closer to the girls. Unfortunately, you’re forced to see all their rather worried faces. The self-awareness this brings leaves you feeling awkward.

“Geez, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Blue comments with a brow raised. “Everything okay?”

“I-I’m alright,” you try to assure her and everyone, waving your hand slightly as if to brush this off. “I just had a weird rush of dizziness and I got really worried.”

“Right…Vi mentioned you’ve been feeling off today,” Five comments with worry. She frowns. “Maybe you should sit down for a bit, hon.”

Nobody seems to believe your statement, but understandably they’re hesitant to pry. You feel guilty making them worry, but right now you just need to calm down.

“You too, Violet,” Six adds, not drawing attention to you further. “You just swam. Your legs need a break.”

Violet refuses and turns her head up. “I’m not sitting ‘til I get food. I came here with a mission. I just sorta felt like I should wait.”

She then looks your way and shrugs. “And hey, get your mind off of it for a bit, alright? Come with me.”

Coming down is admittedly not so difficult now with the distraction, coupled with your attempts at controlled breathing and subtle reassurances.

You’re fine, you tell yourself repeatedly. Though you’re still on edge, you nod for Violet, grateful for her and the other girls’ care, and follow her to the counter without hesitation.

Before you have the opportunity to worry about Charlie and whether or not he’s really behind the opaque window, a paper slips out from the opening with the word “HI” scribbled onto it. You suppose the familiar lettering style and the personal touch of a smiling face in the corner is enough to convince you that it’s really him. It’s a mild, but welcome comfort.

While Violet asks for her share of food (and remains adamant on him giving her an extra portion to make up for all the exercise), you stand quietly as an observer. Only once does Charlie slip a paper addressed to you with the question “OKAY?” on it, and you merely answer with a sheepish smile and a nod. You wish you could divulge everything to him knowing he couldn’t tell anyone anyway, but it’s not possible right now with everyone around, nor is it really a good idea to push The Overseer’s buttons further.

Slowly, between gathering food for Violet and walking back to the table, you start to come down entirely. Everything continues to vex you, but for the moment, you push it aside to peck at later. Even if you want to parse through the issue and ask all your questions, you won’t let time with your family be seen as a burden. They’re here to help, so you’ll let them.

After taking her seat, Violet wastes no time digging into her food, practically ignoring everyone else in the moment while the two peachy girlfriends look across the table toward you. Blue simply shifts her eyes to her left to stare at you from the side, opposite side of her head cupped in her palm while she gives up on finishing her milk.

“How long did I take to get here?” You ask, still concerned about the timing. Blue shrugs.

“I can’t count minutes, but definitely quite a few.”

Did you really space out that hard over a voice? It hadn’t seemed that long…

“Violet mentioned what you did,” Six speaks up worriedly, brow raised. “That’s some pretty dangerous stuff, you know.”

“I heard,” you grumble, placing your head in one and while leaning against the table. Your other arm rests bent and laying along the edge. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I got an earful from my doctor as it is. I’ve been freaked out today, I guess. It’s just another bad day.”

You then sigh and try to remain positive so as not to steal all the attention in such a negative way. You hate having to stop all happy chatter just so people can acknowledge your problems. “At least my foot’s getting better. I can sort of walk on it now, if I’m careful and don’t use the whole foot.”

“I mean we noticed that much when you came running in here instead of being carried in,” Five points out with a hesitant smile. She seems displeased to see you so bothered, but doesn’t keep pressing you with more questions about what’s wrong. Perhaps Violet had also mentioned she suspected there was more to your story, but you appreciate that nobody here is willing to pry hard about it.

Maybe they’re smarter than you that way. You keep demanding answers despite constantly being told they won’t come. But you’ve gotten this far already, right?

“By the way, you don’t need to beat yourself up about the memory stuff. I’ve actually gone through that kind of thing too,” Five’s voice again rings in your ears and distracts you from thought. You look over at her, dropping your hand back to the table. “There’s a few things about my time as a newbie here that I can’t totally recall, but I do remember being frustrated that I couldn’t remember anything about myself. I tried so much to, only to get really sick.”

“We’ve all tried it,” Six affirms. “Nothing happens but a headache or some other weird sensation that’s just overall annoying or really sickening. Painful, especially if we push it enough.”

“I don’t think I ever passed out,” says Five with a shake of her head. “But maybe that doesn’t make a difference. Any symptom is still worrying.”

You guess the girls are trying to make you feel better about it all. Still, it’s interesting to know that you learn so much about them every day. Maybe if you had asked the right questions with them before, you’d have learned much more. But how are you supposed to go about that now? Under The Overseer’s watchful eye, the wrong questions can lead to consequences. Back then, you could get away with hearing information that others learned, not knowing any of it and just inquiring innocently. You weren’t so pushy back then, just curious. Now it’s different.

Maybe you’ve gotten too aggressive, but not without reason. Still, asking questions now that you know what you do can only be read as you pecking on purpose; as you disrespecting The Overseer blatantly. You’d be no different than some of the worst offending doctors here, only you’re seen as trash since you don’t work here.

It’s so damn frustrating. You almost want to throw your hands up and say, “who fucking cares anymore?!” and start announcing everything to everyone while demanding to know more directly at the cameras, wherever they are. You’d like to throw tantrums, jump up and down on the tables and scream at them like a child. Sometimes manifesting your frustration in this way without really doing it just feels good. As it is, barking back at doctors the way you have has been risky, but satisfying regardless of the consequence. It feels so damn good to spit in their faces.

If only you weren’t also such a coward. If only you were smarter, too.

“What kind of sensations do you guys feel with that stuff?” You question the girls, wanting to push past these thoughts. “I’m sure I told Blue once I get static. Like some weird buzzing or numbness in my head. After what happened today, I’ve just felt nauseous and really woozy. The headaches only happen when I force something.”

“Whatever they do to us seems to create a lot of problems like that,” Violet remarks between bites, mouth partly dripping with pasta that leads to her fork. You almost want to laugh at how messy she is.

“I remember a few of the older Numbers saying stuff like they got really bad headaches or just threw up sometimes,” Blue recalls while looking up in thought. “Or maybe they got really dizzy randomly, or just were super tired all the time. Everyone was kind of different back then. Our group seems to have a lot of the same issues, though.”

“But not entirely,” you point out, looking over at Six with a frown. “You said you get headaches a lot. The rest of us don’t. Not that much, anyway.”

“I mean, I don’t know what to tell you,” Six shrugs at the reminder. “I can’t predict how my body reacts to all this.”

Five comes to her defense in a soft voice. “She’s certainly not the only one with odd issues. I used to get dizzy sometimes. Really sleepy too. But with all the drugs my doctor gives me…well…”

“It’s a lot to deal with,” Six finishes for her, downtrodden. Sadly, you now know she’s had to deal with taking care of her girlfriend after Milos’ abuse of his Number quite often. Maybe it’s that affection and care that also helped bring the girls closer. You find it twisted, if simultaneously comforting, that you all have found common ground through trauma, and comfort in sharing it.

“Anyway,” she presses on, “for me, if I push myself to try thinking about things from before, I tend to get more pain than anything. I guess that ties in with the whole headache thing.”

“Right, and I told you guys at different points that, for me, it was pins and needles, didn’t I?” Blue adds. “It kinda sucks. So I just don’t think about it. Movies and sex are a pretty good distraction, to be honest.”

“I hope you don’t mix the two in real life,” Violet looks at her, deadpan. “Not like anyone here has interested you enough to try.”

“Yeah, and?!” Blue puffs up her cheek. “Don’t remind me, alright?”

“I’m single too, remember?”

“Yeah but you have like, Eight or something.” Blue grins then, as if changing her tune. “Went from one guy to another, huh?”

Violet blushes and stuffs more pasta in her face to avoid answering.

“Really, you guys lay off each other,” Five laughs politely. By now, she’s given up on her portion of the food shared between her and Six, though it appears her sweetheart is still pecking at it a little.

Five then turns to you and acknowledges your question from before. “You know, I still get dizzy from time to time myself. There have been moments where I’ve read or watched something and thought a little too hard about it, so I ended up almost passing out from the sudden dizziness. Thankfully it’s not always painful, unless I really push it.”

“Still sounds really scary,” Blue remarks bluntly. “I’d be scared to push it that far. As it is, the feeling I get now came randomly at first. I remember the first few times I tried watching movies just to forget about all this shit, my brain did its thing. It was constant, too. But eventually, it went away on its own.”

“Maybe you really used to like movies or something,” Six supposes. “Maybe you made them!”

“Yeah, what kind?” Blue cheekily questions. You’re not sure what she’s getting at. Though, Violet leans forward at this suggestion and starts to whine.

“No way! it’s not fair that you get to be good at art and film.” She refuses the idea vehemently, but hardly gives off genuine offense. “Come on!”

Blue shrugs a shoulder, taking no offense to Violet’s slightly jealous remark. “Well, maybe you’re right. I like making art more. The idea of making movies seems fine and all, but I don’t feel like it’s me. I just like watching them. It’s um…comforting?”

“I guess we all have our own form of comfort,” Five blushes a bit at her own words. “I find myself enjoying helping others, though. I’m not so bad at pretending to be everyone’s caretaker, I guess.”

You then look over at Six and prod curiously. “And I think you’re in the same boat as I am, right? Where you haven’t latched onto anything here?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs this off. “I don’t think I’m good at anything particular that we have here, but that’s okay with me. I just have a good time with whatever’s around. Learning different skills enough to just be average at it is nice, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you try to smile, but it doesn’t really feel like a real one. “I feel like everything I’ve tried here has just led to nothing. I’m at least glad I have something to do. Reading has been nice, the times I’ve done it, and even the art stuff is a good distraction. I also really like the music I’ve heard from Eight.”

“Hey, who says you have to be good at something anyway?” Six scoffs. “And even if it turns out you’re secretly a martial arts specialist or a motorcycle mama or something, I’d encourage it rather than be upset. Peaches here likes to take care of other people, and that may not be some artistic or book-smart skill, but it’s definitely a useful one, because we need compassionate people like that. She helps talk to Three a lot, she’s gentle with everyone, and she’s careful with her words and when to use them.”

Five gushes a little, cheeks getting a tinge rosier as the blood rushes to her face. “You don’t have to be so open about it. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me!” Six giggles and kisses her sweetheart on the cheek.

“Look, you may not be an athlete or an artist, but you at least pull through a lot of shit really well,” Violet points out once the girls get distracted with one another. “I don’t know if I’d have lasted being taken away like you were. I don’t know what the hell happened with you, but things seemed so different in you when you came back.”

“Different?” You lower a brow, perplexed by this statement. Violet simply nods.

“You’re still the same you I met, but you’re a lot more stubborn now. You don’t hide what you think if you can help it. I guess you and I both ended up that way.”

You blush. “I just tried not to sink down and be in a place I never wanted to. I have every one of you to thank for that, truly.”

You then sigh. “I don’t know. I’m tired of hurting. I feel sick to my stomach every day I wake up and deal with a new thing. There’s so much going on right now that I’m just in and out of everything. I need these days with you to carry me along, but there are also days where I have to go certain things alone.”

You mindlessly put your hand over your cheek to lean your head against it, only for the thickened and dry skin from your cut to brush against the palm of it. Your hand pulls back and you wind up scowling a bit. “God, and all these damn injuries…”

“Oh trust me, I get sick of all the physical pain too,” Six groans. “Bruises and cuts and broken bones suck. I’ve even pulled muscles before with a few of the guys here. For fuckers who know at least a little about anatomy because it’s their job to, they sure like to make us bend weird.”

You look up in thought. “I’ve had a few painful moments, but I’ve been able to stretch enough for them. It’s still not right. But only a few doctors have at least a little consideration for that kind of thing. Everyone else here just wants to get laid however they feel like it, without caring about the fact that we’re still people.”

“And I wish I were as flexible as that, but I have to take things slow,” Five tries to play this off casually. “But when you’re under any kind of influence, maybe sometimes you don’t feel the pain in the moment.”

“Right…” Her attempting to play that casually only hurts you. Still, you won’t acknowledge it if she doesn’t want to. And you know well that she tends to not. “Well, I’ve seen some of you guys with injuries. It always worries me. I hate it when they do that to us.”

“Hey, just think of them like battle scars,” Blue shrugs. “You know, in movies there’s those guys that keep fighting even though they’re down hard. People keep telling them they’re stupid, but really they’re just, like, persistent. I guess there’s a limit in real life, but you know what I mean.”

“Far be it from me, but I can’t exactly think of a sore pussy as a battle scar,” Violet refutes this with a rather displeased tone. “That shit hurts for no good reason.”

The other girls strangely laugh at this joke. Perhaps it’s better to, in this case. Though, the previous statement from Blue only makes you look over at her with confusion. “You don’t think I’m stupid for endangering myself? For being too hasty or too forward?”

Blue laughs. “Come on, we’re all a little stupid. If not as much or not anymore, we were once. It is stupid, really. But it’s a good kind of stupid. You’ll get the hang of things eventually, don’t worry!”

You sigh and mutter. Micah’s words to Gale somehow resonate in your head. “A well-meaning idiot, huh?”

Blue’s opinion doesn’t much sit well with Violet, though. She puffs up a cheek and blows a bit of air out, distraught by the statement. “You know, it’s not wrong to be worried either. Playing it safe is just another strategy. I know I’m one to talk since I’m mouthy, but even I shut up when I really, really have to.”

“It’s about balance,” Five chimes in, hoping to shed light on the minor disagreement. “But balance is hard. Cyrus doesn’t even get it right all the time, and he totes that bit of wisdom a lot.”

“Gale actually keeps trying to help me with that kind of thing,” Six then admits, looking down at the table with a frown. “I don’t like having to take their advice, but…it’s kind of helped. Being aware of myself and others is hard when I am the way that I am, but I get it down sometimes. I’m definitely better at it than I was long ago.”

Your attention turns to her across the table. Seeing Six now only makes you remember watching her keel over in pain in her video feed back when you were at The Overseer’s room. Your lips part as you watch her look a tinge crestfallen.

“Does Gale hover over you like my doctor does with me?”

“Huh?” This takes Six aback. “No, not really. They’re there when I need them, I guess. They take care of me and any of the medicine I need. I guess we talk now and then, but that’s really it. They don’t act weird, except maybe sometimes during sex. What they do isn’t rough or mean, just kind of weird for me given that I’m in a relationship. It feels wrong sometimes, even if, physically, it feels good.”

Five’s hand hovers over her sweetheart’s. She says nothing of it, but hardly has to with Six understanding her concern quite immediately, and returning the girl’s worried gesture with a smile.

Violet watches the two and gives a bit of a sigh. “Well, maybe let’s move on from that topic if it’s a bit difficult. I have been kind of wanting to chime in on the whole head thing.”

“Head thing?” Six looks her way then with a raising brow. “The whole ‘trying to remember’ issue?”

Violet nods. You notice she’s already inhaled her food by now, with nothing left on the plate. The others have appeared to give up on eating.

“I sometimes get this ringing in my head personally,” She explains. “I mean I guess I get ringing normally just because I swim a lot and get my ears clogged, but it’s different when it’s that. If it’s strong enough, I stop really being able to perceive other things. I kind of just tune things out. Go blank.”

“Oh yeah, you told me that once,” Blue hums thoughtfully. “You freaked Cyrus out right?”

“Did you?” You’re taken aback. Violet simply frowns and looks down.

“Well, yeah,” she confirms, attempting to play it casually. “When we started talking a bit more, I was still trying to think about the things I still knew and tried comparing it with things I might not have known. But thinking about it too hard often just hurt my head and made the ringing stronger. Once it was so strong that I stopped responding to Cyrus entirely. He couldn’t even shake me out of it, and he got really scared. I guess he had a reason to given that, by then, he’d already seen some of what we now know he had.”

“What exactly prompted that, anyway?” Six mulls it over. “I don’t think you ever said.”

“Family talk,” Violet shrugs. “I don’t remember the specifics anymore, but I do remember talking about our memory together. We got to the subject of potential families we left behind and the ringing just got so loud that it was unbearable.

“By the time I was able to snap out of it, I felt Cyrus shaking me and heard him calling my name over and over. He told me to forget about it just so that the ringing would go away, and so that I wouldn’t get hurt again.”

You frown. “He said the same to me before…I remembered wedding vows for some reason. They just came to me, and when I tried to think about why, my head hurt. He told me to put it out of my mind for my sake. He said he’d been through that too. Do you know anything about it?”

Violet shakes her head. “I never saw it in person, if that’s what you mean. Maybe he had an issue like mine or yours and it was bad enough to scare him out of ever talking or thinking about it again. You wouldn’t do what you did again, would you?”

When the girls all look your way, you sort of freeze up a bit. The correct answer is obvious, and even you don’t want to go through that ordeal again after all the pain it caused you. It’s messed you up today, effects lingering even long after the fact. So why would you ever say yes?

“Um, of course not,” you answer with a subtle shake of your head. “I mean…I want to know who I am. I feel like I’m losing my mind here. But it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I hate to sound pessimistic, but if you just kind of stop worrying about it, that doesn’t have to hurt you anymore,” Blue remarks with a light frown. “Like, we’ve all been there. And hell, some of us probably did stuff before we got our heads messed with again after the other Ten left. I don’t totally remember a lot myself.”

For some reason, the mention of the young man you replaced leaves you intensely frustrated.

“What the hell is with him, anyway?” You gripe. “I keep hearing so much about him yet nothing adds up.”

Six gives a confused look. “How do you mean?”

“I mean what the hell did he do that warranted you guys losing memories of him? And as it is, I’m a problem myself, aren’t I? Why am I…”

You trail off once you catch the girls giving you confused looks.

“Ten, what are you talking about?” Five seems perplexed. “Are you okay?”

Of course the others won’t fully know just what you mean. Perhaps the frustration just sprung up so suddenly that you, just for one moment, forgot that fact. It’s not worth mentioning now.

“Nothing,” you shut yourself down. “It’s nothing.”

The awkward silence resulting from this only brings feelings of guilt. You have no interest in hurting the others or putting them at risk right now, even though you’d like to just scream it all out. You wonder if Jade had to deal with this kind of thing too, before she died.

“Sorry,” you apologize briefly before trying to shift the subject. “Thank you for worrying about me. But it’s nothing any of you can help me with. I’m just glad I have your support. And no matter what, I’ll always support you too.”

The girls all murmur in response to this, their faces a bit uncertain. You aren’t sure why they seem so unnerved by this, until you start thinking about how your words might have come across. Hopefully they don’t think you’re in danger. Even if you are, it’s not something you want them to have to deal with right then. It was stupid of you to throw your problems at them.

However, before you can open your mouth to try explaining yourself, another commotion outside is heard. Not of doctors, you don’t think. The voices hardly sound like ones you know to be theirs.

Everyone’s attention is grabbed, and when you all hear muffled yells followed by a hard THUD, you’re all left alert and concerned. For a split second, you girls all flash each other an uncertain glance, but when another loud thud is heard, you immediately all get up and rush to the door.

You’re in the back of the line, briefly turning your head toward the counter and flashing Charlie a wincing look as if to say “sorry” for leaving all the food and trays at the table. But right now, you’re all fairly concerned by whatever the hell is happening out there.

Quietly, you all wait for the doors to open and peek your heads out, only to catch sight of a few flashes of color on bodies disappearing into the music room, with doors promptly shutting behind them. It’s then you all realize the other Numbers are doing something, but you’ve no clue what.

“What the fuck is going on?” Blue questions in disbelief. Five is by now clinging to Six’s arm, looking on worriedly while her sweetheart narrows her eyes a bit in concentration.

“Think they’re in trouble?”

“Only one way to find out I guess,” Violet sighs. “They’re not usually this damn rowdy.”

With no doctors appearing in the hall, everyone seems to temporarily ignore the rule of not being together between rooms so that they can cross it to the music room. Violet leads first, with Blue, the peachy girlfriends, and you following just behind.

Being close to the entrance of the room allows all of you to hear some of the louder commotion from behind it, but the moment the doors part, you’re all taken aback by the sight of Cyrus, Two, and Pickle right by the door. Behind them, by the shelves, is a rather despondent Eight trying to carefully put his violin away.

Violet looks at the boys in surprise, but then looks down at the floor once something moving along it catches her eyes. The moment she sees what it is, she backs up and lets out a loud yelp. You bob your head around trying to see what the hell scared her, only to be met with the sight of a rather large brown rat scurrying speedily about, running to the left of Violet away from the crowd.

Two reaches a hand out to stop everyone. “If we don’t move, none of the doors will open and it’ll go somewhere else!”

As if on cue, the door to the crafts room opens, and out pops a rather worried Three. She’s clinging sheepishly to the edge of the door just to peep an eye out, evidently bothered enough by the sound of her friends’ voices to check on what’s going on.

“Why are you-?!”

Like Violet, she immediately sees the rat and lets out a squeak, stepping back into the room without another word. With a new pathway open to it, the rat scurries into the crafts room. Like clockwork, Two lets out a loud, frustrated groan and charges forward in an attempt to corner the thing, or at least scare it away. Pickle follows in a hurry, but Cyrus stops a moment to look at you girls with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that…It sort of popped out of nowhere.”

You notice his hair is quite a bit shorter than it was before as he awkwardly scratches at the back of his head. You suppose Pickle finished his work. While it isn’t super drastic a change, it does make Cyrus’ face more open.

“You know, if I were you, I’d move to the next room and not stand around here,” Eight calls out as he finishes packing his violin up. He heads toward the entrance of the music room by Cyrus, arms folded.

“It’s only a rat,” he says. “I don’t see the need for commotion.”

“Well, how often do we see an animal of any kind?!” Six questions. “What are you guys trying to do, anyway? Catch it? Run it away?”

“Well, it came out of the bathroom while Pickle and Two were talking with me,” answers Cyrus. “We were pretty surprised, but Two seemed to want to catch it. Maybe we should go help him.”

“I have a better idea,” Eight huffs. “You get it cornered if you can, but don’t hurt it.”

Violet breathes as she tries to calm herself down from the shock of seeing the rodent. “God, that thing was huge…Please tell me you’re going to get it out of here!”

Blue scrunches up her face and makes a disgusted noise. “Yeah, I’ve never seen one of those little trash-eaters here before, but I definitely know I hate them.”

Eight brushes all these comments off and simply walks to the cafeteria on his own, though you remain uncertain as to what it is he’s going to do.

“Well, you guys stick around one of the rooms and wait it out if you want, but I think I’m gonna go give Two a hand,” Six remarks, letting her arm slip from Five for the moment. “Cyrus?”

To this, your blue-shirted companion nods, and he rushes off with Six. While Five doesn’t appear to mind her sweetheart getting mixed into this, she does at least call out to her, “Don’t get bitten, alright?!”

Blue scoffs once the hall has emptied of the others. “I was just going to make fun of the boys for being stupid, but it seems Six has abandoned her lady love for a rat.” She then pauses and brings a curled finger to her chin. “Wow that sounds like some fabled myth shit.”

“I don’t mind,” Five laughs. “I know how she is and I don’t mind her getting a little excited. But you know, Cyrus was right. Why don’t we go to the rec room for now?”

Admittedly, you want to see all the buzz in the crafts room, but figure opening the door again is probably not a good idea right now. So, you go with Blue, Violet, and Five to the rec room, where you’re met with the unexpected sight of Lav gripping one of the long sticks from the pool table.

Seeing her should excite you, but all that you muster is a groan, and bringing your hand to your forehead. “Not you too…”

“Oh hey!” Lav laughs in greeting. “Guess you heard all the commotion, huh?”

“Yeah, Violet got a real kick out of having a rat crawl by her leg,” Blue jokes at the girl’s expense. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I figured since everyone’s going on a hunt, I’d bring one of these.” Lav enthusiastically holds out the pool cue. “I’m not gonna try and hurt the guy, but I figured this might help us guide it out of here. Like a little prodding stick. I heard all the yelling from the gym, you know. It’s why I rushed over.”

“Did you hear all the yelling earlier too?” You question, making Lav shrug.

“I heard my doctor’s voice. I didn’t care after that.”

“Today’s really just one of those days, isn’t it?” Violet sighs, folding her arms. “By the way, fuck you too Blue, that rat scared me.”

Blue snickers and brings a posh little hand to her chest. “Believe me, I’d have been scared too if that were me. Glad it wasn’t!”

In the midst of their tiny squabble, you catch Lav looking on at you with confusion, and guess rather quickly why.

“It’s healed up for the most part,” you explain, moving your gauzed up foot around just a little. “I can’t put too much pressure on it though.”

Lav smiles a bit. “Guess I can’t ask you if you wanna join me in rat wrangling, then.”

You blush and look away. “I’m kind of surprised you and Cyrus would both get into that. You guys are regular gremlins, huh?”

“You kidding?” Lav laughs, putting a hand on her hip while loosely holding the stick in the other. “I know you’ve had a lot of excitement lately, so I don’t blame you for just wanting to take it easy. But we haven’t had anything mildly entertaining happen in a while. Something harmless, I mean.”

“Harmless? But what if we get more rats?” Five shudders at the thought. “I’d hate to think there’s pests around here.”

“Well, not to burst your bubble, but I did see a bug crawl out of the shower drains once,” You can’t help but tease her a bit. Though the remark only brings you back to your first days here at the facility, you try not to let the terrible mood and memories attached to that moment get in the way of this. However, this only makes Five bring her hands to her cheeks and groan unhappily at the thought.

“Ohh, why’d you have to tell me that? Now I’m going to be up all night trying to clog my drain so nothing pops out of it!”

“Sorry,” You laugh. Lav smiles seeing you joke around, though by the way she strains it, you can tell she knows there’s something up with you. Still, neither of you really address it right now.

“Hey, you guys stay here and protect each other. I’m gonna go join the others.”

“Feel free to yell at Six for us, for abandoning her girlfriend,” Violet teases at the ordeal. “And maybe Eight too, for doing his lone wolf thing again.”

Lav laughs and twirls the long stick around between her fingers before grasping it firmly. “Like you don’t do it too? Anyway, hang tight.”

At this, Violet blushes, but says nothing and lets the lavender young woman leave. You almost find it funny how embarrassed she gets at having these things about herself pointed out, but you can also understand how it feels to be given that kind of attention when others have teased you before too. Poor thing!

“Well, what now?” You shrug in question. Blue, as if completely unbothered by anything that just transpired, doesn’t give much of an answer beyond going to plop herself on the couch by the TV.

“Ah yes, the ‘I don’t give a single fuck’ strategy,” Violet remarks, deadpan. “What a real trooper she is.”

“Hey, I just wanted to have lunch, not deal with rat problems. Come sit with me if you like, nerd.”

Violet sticks her tongue out at the girl in protest. Five, meanwhile, having calmed down from the earlier ordeal, simply looks over at you with a frown.

“Sorry if this was all such a weird distraction from our discussion. Are you doing a little better now?”

“Well, to be frank, it was a pretty good distraction,” You admit, wincing as you hear more muffled yells from the other room. “They really can’t outsmart a rat?”

“I’m more concerned that nobody’s come to yell at us for being rowdy,” is Five’s curious response. “But I doubt they have time to care.”

Violet then raises a finger. “Better that they don’t. Anyway, I’m no expert at rodents, but I know for a fact they’re crafty little fucks. They’re usually associated with like, dirty places and hidey holes. If there’s more of them around, no doubt they know this place better than anyone else.”

“If there’s more of them around, then that means this place isn’t as sanitary as we thought,” Five notes unhappily, shuddering again.

Considering this place is actually much older than it’s been decorated to look, it doesn’t surprise you that creatures could get in here. The Overseer had already told you what this was before, after all. An abandoned place crawling with at least a few rats even long after it’s been adopted and transformed isn’t strange, is it?

Violet tries to reassure the young woman. “Rats can be cleaner than most humans, actually. Eight told me that once. You know, since he does all that reading that we don’t.”

She then frowns. “Speaking of which, where is that guy? Normally I’d expect him to stay on his violin even if the world was crumbling around him. You know how he gets.”

Five hums a bit. “Maybe we should go check.”

Without waiting for an answer, she starts to head toward the door to the rec room, but Violet reaches a hand out to stop her. “Wait!”

As the doors part, the brigade of other Numbers can be seen in the hall, though most are only visible from the doors to the arcade, with Six , Pickle, and Lav being the only ones directly outside the room. Six, you find, is crouched down and holding what looks to be a clear container against the bottom of the doors in preparation of, you presume, the rat. Lav and Pickle are on either side, awaiting the rodent’s emergence. Though you can’t fully make out the bodies in the arcade, you can see bits of color from the door as bodies move about.

In an instant, Six lets out a yell and falls back as the rat, to your disbelief, jumps out at her and over the container. As she falls back, the plastic thing in her hands flies up, and her body leans back heavily toward Lav enough for the back of her arm to hit hard and grind against the point of the stick Lav’s holding.

“Woah, you alright?!” You hear Two’s voice call from the room. His head pokes out as he watches Six grit her teeth at the sudden sensation.

“It’s getting away!” Pickle cries out as he points toward the rat. Rather than head in the direction that you assume would be obvious, the creature doesn’t go toward the gate. Instead, It skitters Five’s way. Rather immediately, the peachy girl looks on at the rat and lets out a frightened, girlish cry as it bounds toward her and into the rec room. Even Violet gets cautious and climbs on the couch, curling up on it to keep her legs off the floor.

“Oh great, now the parade’s gonna follow it,” Blue calls out from the other side of the room, wholly unamused. As anticipated, everyone starts to move immediately from the arcade to the rec room. Lav helps Six up, while Pickle and Two rush toward the room. Cyrus and a cautious but curious Three trailing at his arm follow just behind.

While Five remains frightened and frozen in place, You and Violet wind up having to move your feet as the brown rat bounds toward the couch near you, then toward the game tables nearby. You’re quite on edge at the sight of the thing, but realize that its only goal is to escape both wherever it’s ended up, and the band of people trying to either catch or scare it off. With the container now having been collected in Six’s hands, and the girls trying to defend against the rodent as it messily scurries about, you figure it’s the former.

“Scare it back into the toilet or something!” Pickle calls out when everyone around him tries and fails to wrangle the critter. Two simply lets out a loud laugh at the entire ridiculous ordeal, apparently now entertained by it, and runs to Six to grab the container from her. Before the rat can again bound toward the rec room doors, Two lunges forward and slams the container down, just barely trapping the rat.

“Holy shit I didn’t think that would work!” He pants. Once the creature is caught, Violet finally lets out a breath of relief and stands up again.

“Great, good job,” Blue sarcastically remarks from her place on the other couch. “Maybe get rid of that thing, will you?”

“Is it over?” Five shudders a bit, finally getting Six’s attention. She simply laughs at her frightened companion.

“Hey, hey, you’re fine,” She giggles, heading over to wrap her arms around Five and envelop her cheek in a kiss. “It’s alright, just a little bitty rat.”

“Little? But it’s so big!” Three notes as she abandons Cyrus and bends down to watch the clearly frightened animal skitter about in its plastic box.

“I cannot believe that fucker jumped so high,” Lav chuckles as she finally moves to the pool tables to return the stick to it. Joining Three, some of the other Numbers, namely Cyrus, Lav, and Pickle huddle around the box curiously, opting to kneel or sit on the floor.

“I’ve never seen one this close,” Pickle notes in awe. “I guess when it’s not moving so fast it’s actually kind of harmless.”

Cyrus, tilting his head as he watches the rat. “I don’t think we’ve ever had this happen before. I don’t remember, anyway.”

“I’ve only ever seen the one bug before,” you add, stepping closer to the group. “Never anything bigger.”

Violet stays behind by the couch, not all too interested in oohing and aahing at what the others have managed. Two, you notice, is still on the floor with his hands gripping the sides of the container as tight as possible, so as not to let the rat push the box open enough to escape.

“So what should we do now?” Cyrus questions. “It seems pretty scared. Maybe we should let it out.”

“After going through all that trouble?” Lav scoffs. “It’ll just scurry off in the wrong direction again. We just got it in a stable place.”

“I certainly don’t want it anywhere near me!” Five shudders again, making Six laugh at her expense.

“Honey, it’s alright! It won’t hurt you. I promise, it’s more scared of us than we are of it.”

“I dunno, maybe Cyrus is right,” Violet chimes in from behind everyone as she looks on at the rat trying next to jump out of the container to no avail. It’s body thuds against the top of it before the creature plops back down on the white floor. “We can’t keep it in that thing forever, especially without any air.”

At this moment, the doors before the crowd open, revealing a rather unamused Eight. In his hands are two items, one a capful of what you assume is water, and the other a napkin with some kind of chopped bits of fruit on it.

“Eight!” Three lights up. “You missed it! We finally caught it.”

“We?!” Two cries out in disbelief. “You stood there all scared while the rest of us tried to get it out of the room!”

Three pouts. “Well I was still there. Anyway, we’re still trying to figure out what to do with it, so let’s focus on that.”

Cyrus looks up at Eight and raises a brow. “Where were you this whole time?”

Before answering, the grey-shirted young man kneels down and places the cap of water and the napkin on the floor.

“I figured I’d fetch a few things from Charlie,” he says calmly. “I was hoping not to give the thing a heart attack and try luring it out with food instead. I see now that was a fool’s errand.”

He reaches down to just barely tip the container’s longer edge away from Two up enough to slip the napkin through it. The rat, seeing the slightest bit of an opening, tries desperately to squeeze through the slit by shoving itself nose-first against it, but the space is hardly enough for it to push through.

“It’s frightened,” Eight notes unhappily. “It won’t eat or drink at this rate.”

“Well, maybe we can keep it in the container and just cover it with something loose to give it air, and feed it like that,” Three suggests. “We could drill holes in something to make a lid! I mean, I do kind of feel bad for it! Maybe we could keep it around and take care of it?”

Eight’s green eyes don’t once move from the brown rodent, its chest puffing rapidly and its nose twitching with each panicked breath. “You should be glad it isn’t screaming. They’re quite loud.”

“They do that?” Violet curiously proclaims, almost wincing at the idea. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, maybe if it has time to get used to us?” Three again suggests, now eager about the idea of keeping the rat as a pet. However, Eight does not allow this. Still eyeing the frightened creature, he takes the container from Two on the floor and yanks it up. Because he’s so close to the rec room doors, they’re still open, and so the rat wastes no time scurrying away into the hall.

“What did you do that for?” Two whines, hands still open and in place, holding nothing now. “I was lucky enough to catch it at all!”

“Yeah, we could have kept it around, you know!” Three agrees unhappily. Though, Blue chimes in again from the other end of the room.

“Why would you want something that came out of a toilet?”

You notice that Eight stays quiet as he drops the container back on the floor, leaving the plastic thing to crash against it. With everyone having lost the rat entirely, they all look up at him, confused.

“We went through a lot of trouble trying to get that thing,” Six agrees, still standing near Eight and the door while continuing to clutch at her sweetheart. “You could have at least let us all make a decision as a group, Eight.”

“You need to think a little harder about it,” is the young man’s snappy response. “All of you. That thing was scared, and leaving it in a box would have only made it miserable. That rat has a chance to be free, where we don’t. Why would you want to confine it to a cage? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in one right now. Do you wanna subject some other poor thing to that?”

The others then grow downtrodden at his harsh reprimanding. Cyrus, however, shakes his head.

“Even if that’s true, it might still get caught and killed when someone notices it’s there,” he points out. “I mean I know rats are kind of crafty, but you get my point. It might eventually die even if we free it. Especially if there’s no other real opening for it to go through to hide in.”

Eight frowns. “That may be so, but it’d be better than keeping it in a cage and leaving it to slowly whither. Let it be free while it still can.”

Despite having been adamant on wanting to keep the rat, Three seems to understand these words and doesn’t fight them, though she does look a bit disheartened. Eight meanwhile looks away and lowers his brows.

“Freedom is a luxury here. Even short-lived freedom.” It’s then that he catches sight of something on the floor by Six from the corner of his eye, and he turns his body to look her way. Strangely, he looks concerned now, eyes widening just slightly, and lips parting.

“Six…your arm….”

Concerned, the peachy girl pulls away from her sweetheart and tries to examine the limb that she got poked in earlier. Five tries to examine the back of Six’s arm herself when Six fails to see what Eight’s referring to, but she gasps the moment she sees it. Everyone else looks on worriedly.

“Your arm’s bleeding!” She immediately starts to hover over the girl. “It’s got a big scrape! Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“What?” Six, however, seems dumbfounded as she watches Five’s concern. “I didn’t even notice. I mean I knew Nine hit me earlier when I fell back, but I didn’t think a pool cue would actually scrape me since those things are rounded at the tip.”

“Well, just about anything can hurt you,” Pickle comments from the floor. “I’ve smacked myself just trying to brush my hair before.”

“How the fuck do you manage that?” Blue laughs from the couch. Pickle, however, looks unamused.

Cyrus stands, no longer with reason to keep at the floor. “You should patch that up so your doctor can deal with it later.”

The others follow suit, with Two finally picking himself up off the floor. He doesn’t appear to have the heart to pick up the plastic container after losing his catch, though.

“Couldn’t we call a doctor now?” He supposes. “I mean they have supplies in the infirmary for this kind of thing.”

“You don’t need the doctors all the time,” Eight bitterly spits in response. “You don’t like it when they have to come here, so don’t summon them here if there’s no reason to. Do you guys seriously not know how to patch even small things up?”

Before Cyrus can respond positively to this, Eight shuts him down. “Besides Cyrus. I know well he’s competent enough to know even basic things since he’s been here so long. Five and Six too, since they have to fend for each other a lot.”

The twins both wind up scratching their heads, while everyone else just stays silent and looks over at Eight with confusion. This only angers Eight, who groans in annoyance.

“You motherfuckers…That’s it! All of you, go to the cafeteria, right now!”

Pickle tilts his head. “What?”

“You heard me!” Eight points his arm in the direction of the room entrance. “Go! You fuckers are getting a lesson today. We’re all here, we might as well take advantage of it.”

Cyrus laughs to himself. “Just humor him, guys. Not like it’s such a bad idea to learn this stuff.”

He gestures to the peachy girlfriends. “Five, maybe take care of Six, okay? Meet us in the cafeteria after.”

“Make an example out of this,” Eight nods while the two girls head to the restroom so that Five can help patch Six up. “And even if you know a little, doesn’t hurt to have a refresher. Now march!”

“But I don’t want to!” Three pouts. “I didn’t even really want to come out of the crafts room either. You guys were just making so much noise that I had to go see what you were up to.”

“Yeah, but maybe after earlier, this is a good way to get your mind off of things,” you try to uplift her. “But Eight’s not wrong. I’d like to know how to do this stuff. Not relying on a doctor sounds pretty good, frankly.”

Three sighs. “Alright. Two?”

Two simply shakes his head and whines. “Don’t even talk to me! I can’t believe I went through all that effort for nothing.”

Unamused and rolling her eyes, Three puffs out a cheek at his dramatic attachment to what is by now long over. Grumbling, she moves ahead of him and past Eight. “My brother…”

Pickle simply laughs and pats Two on the back. “Hey, give it a chance. I need to know what to do in case I cut myself accidentally while cutting hair.”

“Always hair with this guy!” Two cheekily responds, immediately perking up. Without further distraction, the boys head off next. Eight, however, stays and folds his arms like some disappointed father, looking over now at Blue still on the couch.

“You too, Blue. I’m not letting any of you skip out on this.”

“I literally just started getting into this movie!” Blue protests, gesturing to the television. However, Eight has none of it.

“I know well from how much you guys talk about it that these people only put on a certain number of movies that cycle over time. So If you can tell me with one hundred percent certainty that what you’re watching isn’t something you’ve already seen, you can stay.”

Blue goes quiet a minute, eyes still glued to the screen. But, judging by the way she’s tensing up, you know she’s heard him. Eventually, she gives up and groans, tossing the TV remote on the couch.

“Ugh, fine!”

As she picks herself up and walks toward Eight, she taps him on the shoulder hard with her finger. “You better be as damn good a teacher as Five and Six have made you out to be, you little geek.”

“I had no intentions of delegating myself into being you people’s professor, but so be it,” Eight scoffs, hardly bothered by Blue’s attitude. “Go on.”

Blue simply makes an “ugh” noise and walks off, leaving you all alone. Violet, who’s been quietly observing everything this whole time, simply chuckles at Eight. “Geez, you really can take charge when you feel like it.”

Lav finds this amusing, and teases him too. “He’s finally learning he can use that mouth of his for more than just telling people to fuck off.”

Eight grumbles and blushes at the attention. “I’m not doing this because I care, mind you. It’s a genuinely important skill to have. Pardon me for expecting everyone to know that.”

“Oh, and is reading music also a life skill?” Cyrus smirks coyly, not bothering to hold back either. “You don’t have to hide that you have a heart, you know. You can join the human race anytime.”

“Not only does he have a heart, but apparently a soft spot for animals, too,” You add with a bit of a chuckle. “Who knew?”

“If we’re all done laughing at my expense, maybe now we can start heading over for our lesson,” Eight sharply retorts without hesitation. “I’m not going easy on you guys just because you know me better. It’s going to be a workshop, and I’m going to make you practice.”

Lav challenges him a little too eagerly. “Oh yeah? And what happens if we fail your little class?”

Eight, smirking slightly, plays this off coyly. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll destroy everything you hold dear, like that basketball for instance.”

“Ooh, nice personal punishment there mister,” Lav scoffs as she relays her sarcastic response. “You touch my ball, I break your violin. Capiche?”

This makes Eight’s eyes widen a tinge, and he fumes. “Well, if you do that I’ll deflate every replacement ball they give you! You’re gonna have to shoot baskets with a slingshot!”

“Oh yeah?” Lav cracks her knuckles, grinning all the while. “I can break much more than your violin, buddy.”

At his wits end, the flustered Eight growls and grumbles, and points furiously again at the rec room doors.

“I said march, motherfucker!”

It takes a bit of time for everyone to really gather, but Eight doesn’t let time be a hindrance to him anyway. While the lot of you end up sitting in the cafeteria, he goes to gather quite a few materials from the other rooms. In wait, you all talk amongst each other while sitting at two separate tables, though you notice the two peachy girlfriends emerging soon after Eight has left to gather his things. Six’s arm has apparently been wrapped up in peach cloth, evidently torn from the hem of Five’s gown as there’s now a huge ring of it missing from her once-sewn hem. You certainly hope Milos intends to replace her gown with a fresh one rather than leave her with the tattered cloth.

While you all sit fairly close together, you’re still split up into groups to some extent. You, Violet, and Blue sit together on one side of a table facing the doors, with Cyrus, Lav, and Three sitting across from you. The table to your right is populated with Two and Pickle, with the peachy girlfriends across from them.

Looking across the table at Three, you suppose she had little interest in sitting close to her brother or Pickle after what had happened and what was said earlier. You’d heard she’d been sort of ejecting herself from their presence despite Pickle’s desire to include her, but now you’re witnessing it blatantly. Three simply doesn’t want to look their way, intent on distracting herself with anything else. You really hope she’ll take your advice sometime instead of keeping this up.

Regardless, despite wanting to separate herself from Pickle, Three can’t fully avoid it even now, especially since the subject of Pickle’s work is starting to emerge now that everything else has settled.

“So like, you got a trim?” Blue questions Cyrus while examining his head. “Looks alright. I could have sworn you used to have your hair that long—er, short before.”

“It doesn’t look all that different to me,” Violet remarks with a shrug. “Cyrus still looks like Cyrus. I hope that doesn’t sound rude.”

“It’s fine,” the young man laughs a bit. “I guess looks aren’t always something we register when we’ve known each other so long. But believe me, even if it’s a small change, it does feel kind of different.”

Three says nothing, simply watching everyone as they talk. You wish she’d try to speak up more, but don’t want to push her.

“You said you used to have your hair short, right?” You ask Cyrus in an attempt not to longer your gaze on Three so long that it’s uncomfortable for her. “And what about Mom? Won’t she be upset?”

“She won’t care,” Cyrus assures you. “We’ve been together long enough for her to still obsess over me no matter what, though there are a few things she is particular about. In any case, it is a lot like how I had it once. It’s just, um, been a long time since I’ve had it like this.”

Lav chuckles. “You gonna grow a beard anytime soon?”

Cyrus blushes. “That part I don’t think is up to me. I definitely think Mom doesn’t like men with beards. Or at least not too much facial hair. But I guess it’s one less thing for me to have to deal with. She takes care of that stuff for me, apparently. I don’t like thinking about it.”

You at first find his statement on her preferences odd knowing that Mom likely slept around with Milos, until you realize that what Cyrus said about this preference might be because of Milos. She seemed dejected by him, after all. How strange…

“My doctor has his own preferences,” Lav remarks bitterly. “I only comply so I don’t have to hear him yelling at me for not wearing my hair the way he likes. I can only imagine how Micah reacted when you came back with your hair short, Vi.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” the girl grumbles in response. Blue, however, simply shrugs at the entire subject.

“My doctor isn’t super picky, but he does like it long. Some of the other doctors like to pull at it though, which really sucks! I like my hair and I don’t want them damaging it!”

“Did someone say hair?!” Pickle calls out from the other table jokingly, making Two cackle with laughter. Blue simply pouts at him.

“Alright, you little freak, I get it. I’m sorry for teasing you about being a slut for hair.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” is the boyish Pickle’s response as he wipes away a loose tuft of his own blond locks. “I don’t mind. It really does give me peace, so even if I get made fun of about it, I’m okay with that. And I mean it! It does help! It was nice talking with Cyrus today, and I was really happy getting to do something I’m good at.”

“If only that all didn’t devolve into us chasing a rat,” Six sighs a bit. “At least it didn’t bite me, but somehow I still got hurt. Nasty ass scrape, too.”

“I get the feeling the day’s almost over anyway, so maybe Gale will give you something for that,” Violet remains upbeat for her.

“Too bad we’re ending the day with learning,” Two jokes. “Honestly, I just wanted to chill out after all that.”

You want to be optimistic, but haven’t the heart to remind everyone that all the doors the rat could escape out of are completely shut. In order for those doors to open, a doctor would have to come across the little animal. Either the others know this and don’t want to be negative, or they don’t really realize it because they’re so distracted. Granted, so are you. After being so afraid of having heard Yosuke’s voice earlier, this is a fairly good way to put it out of your mind until tonight. But when you get back to him, will those voices return?

In fact, how can you even look at him the same now? You don’t want to believe that you heard his voice without reason. But…you couldn’t have known him could you? Wouldn’t you have remembered his face if you did?

“Ten?” Lav’s gentle hand on your back takes you out of your headspace. “Hey, don’t lose yourself on us, alright? Class is almost in session.”

You look at her, mouth slightly agape. She’s trying to joke around to keep you from being on edge, you figure. You’re glad, and so you slowly flash the girl a blushing smile, which she returns.

Eight eventually comes back to the cafeteria with a few books and supplies tucked in the bin, no doubt the same one Two left on the floor of the rec room earlier. He sets it down at the edge of your table, between Three and Blue. The loud THUD commands everyone’s attention, and all conversation stops.

“Look, we don’t have time for a thorough lesson,” he begins, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “But at the very least, we should get started with some basic things. Scrapes, bruises, broken limbs. CPR if we have time.”

“Yes teacher,” Three finally giggles a bit at his expense, letting the chance to be distracted from her woes take over this time. Eight frowns, looking on at Three with a deadpan expression.

“No laughter in my class.”

The rest of the day winds up spent grueling through first aid lessons, with Eight pointing out sections of a particular book he’s read and using it as a guide. Knowing that not everyone in the group much cares for textbook lessons, he has everyone make use of random items from the crafts room, to create makeshift splints and bandages. He even winds up leading Six’s wrapped arm as an example of what to do in the case you need an emergency bandage for something minor.

You can’t help but find his ambition in teaching everyone this kind of thing charming, even finding yourself teasing him more with the others about his role as a teacher. You suppose he’s had good enough practice with Five and Six, after all.

Eight even goes so far as to explain things like disinfecting and cleaning wounds, even if there’s no real practical use for the information since all supplies are locked away, out of your reach. Though, he makes it clear once Three starts to cry at his mention of dying of infection that it’s not something that would happen within a day, and that the other doctors would more than likely take care of it if the Numbers were to tell their doctors later on, rather than interrupting a good day to summon them prematurely.

A few times, Cyrus even lets Eight demonstrate how to wrap up a cut or a broken arm properly on him, ruining the hem of his own shirt to make cloth for practice. When Cyrus makes a joke about his ability to be caring of others again, Eight simply looks at him and, without being too serious about it, says,

“Shall I break your arm for real and give them a live stint demonstration?”

This is just barely enough to make Cyrus be quiet, but he eventually picks up his teasing again and only leaves Eight grumbling.

When it’s time for everyone to practice on their own, Eight even hovers over Violet attempting to “stint” Blue’s arm, and he compliments her effort. Blue, however, he chides when she tries to patch Violet up and keeps wrapping the wrong area.

You don’t get to learn much about what Eight called “CPR”, but this turns out to be the messiest section of all, with nobody wanting to kiss or lay hands on each other as practice. Blue and Two get paired up, and despite Eight's insistence that one has to overcome modesty for the task, Two still gets intimidated about the idea of touching his partner's busty chest, much less the thought of kissing her. She even teases him by making fake kisses into the air at the young man while leaning her head back against her raised and folded arms.

In the end, the demonstration is spearheaded by the peachy girlfriends, who of course don’t hesitate to give it. Only, they linger a bit longer on each other’s lips than Eight wants, making him bark at them while embarrassed at the display of affection.

You can’t say everything was absorbed perfectly in such a short time frame, but everyone seems to get the gist of the most basic stuff. As the lesson eventually slows to a halt, Eight gives you all a few more words of advice.

“There are obviously a lot of things we can’t help but rely on our doctors for, but that doesn’t mean we have to be totally useless either. If we can avoid interacting with them, then we should want to do whatever we can to make that a reality.”

He shakes his head. “In the end, we have only each other to rely on in some moments. Suppose even if you needed a doctor, what if they couldn’t make it in time? We need to be prepared.”

Those words only make you aware of Cyrus, who had such a situation happen to him. You can see him tensing up a bit at the mention as it is, but he doesn’t let it distract from Eight’s words. Back then, he was likely unsure of how to deal with all this. Now, you think he’s more prepared for it. At the very least, he knows when he has to act.

Eight continues on. “However, that said, we still do pretty well at being there for one another. Like after our shots, for instance, we tend to stick close together to ensure the affected person is safe. That’s all this is. So don’t make fun of me for pushing you. It’s important.”

“It’s kind of a lot of pressure in the middle of an emergency, though,” Five admits, adding to Eight’s words. “But at least if you have some know-how, you’ll be a little more prepared.”

The others don’t disagree.

“Well it’s simple, isn’t it?” Two chuckles. “Just don’t get hurt. Easy!”

“Big talk coming from an accident-prone son of a bitch,” Eight smirks. “Still, thanks for sitting through this. Evidently it’s grueling for some of you to sit this long. The only time I’ve seen some of you be this still is for shots, so, thanks for bothering to ‘humor me’, as it were.”

“Hey, I can’t be the only one taking charge,” Lav jokes.

At the mention of shots, Pickle can’t help but chime in excitedly. “Oh! Speaking of shots, I think I might finally have mine!”

“Really?” Blue seems amused by this. “About time. I’m surprised they took this long for you to have one.”

“I’m not sure why. But Cyrus told me what to expect. It sounds kind of messed up, though.”

“It’s exhausting more than anything,” Five tries to minimize the effects. “You’ll be fine. And I don’t think Monica’s a really mean doctor, so she should be nice to you and let you sleep.”

“Does yours not?” You look over at her, concerned. Five simply shrugs a shoulder and averts her eyes.

“He doesn’t care about me beyond what he wants from me,” she says. “I don’t usually wake up in my room after shots, so I don’t know what he does. I just have to push through all the mind funk that comes afterward, since I’m always so foggy.”

You frown. “I’m sorry. Well, I’m due for a shot too, apparently. I’m not sure how it’ll go. Last time was unsettling.”

“You’ll be okay,” Cyrus tries to be assuring. “We can’t do anything for you in the moment, but we’ll take care of you when you come back.”

You blush.

“Same for you, Pickle my boy,” Lav jokes. “We’re not sure how your doctor will handle you, but we always watch over each other after shots. You’ll be in good hands. Promise!”

“Glad to hear, since I’ve been so nervous about it,” the young man attempts to stay optimistic despite the obvious discomfort at the mention of his doctor, something you can see by the way he shifts around in his seat.

It’s not long after all this that the day draws to a close, and you’re all called back to your rooms by Mom. You linger with Cyrus and Lav as the others slowly file out of the room, saying your goodbyes to everyone one by one.

Looking over at all the stuff on both tables leaves you sighing. You’d like to clean it up, but know that it wouldn’t change that the workers are still going to come by here anyway, if they’re on some kind of routine. Especially if that rat gets discovered, this place might get a more thorough examination while you’re gone for the night. The most you can do for now is at least gather all the cloth scrap and pencils and everything else used for today’s lesson in the plastic container. Seeing you do this, both Lav and Cyrus don’t hesitate to help.

“What happened today, anyway?” Lav asks in the midst of collecting some grey cloth from the other table. “Like I said, I was in the gym before all the rat business, so I sort of missed whatever was happening before.”

“You didn’t miss anything special,” you try to laugh it off despite feeling reserved about what happened yesterday and this morning. “I talked with Three and Violet a little bit today, then with some of the other girls.”

“Well, not just that,” Lav frowns. “I mean what’s been up with you? I could tell you were a bit vacant here and there. You get like that when things are bad.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to leave you overthinking it, so I don’t really think it’s a good idea to say it right now. Ask Violet tomorrow, if you don’t see me. I wound up talking to her more about it. It’s kind of a lot to deal with, but there’s unfortunately things I can’t say about it.”

“Seems to me like you go through a lot every other day,” Cyrus notes unhappily. “I’m glad we’re still able to talk like this but…”

“I know,” you assure him with a disheartened look. “I don’t mean to keep worrying everyone.”

“It’s not that, Ten. We just wish we could do more,” Lav adds, shaking her head. She picks up the last of the scrap and leaves it in the plastic bin. The tables are now clean. Any of the trays of food that had been left from your talk with the girls earlier, thankfully, had already been taken before the lesson began, after you all returned to the cafeteria. “Whatever it is, talk to us later if you need, okay? I should get going before Sven has a meltdown.”

You almost laugh. “He kind of already did earlier. Had a whole fight with Micah. If you see him with any bruises on his face, you might wanna avoid asking why he has them.”

Lav raises a brow at this. “Micah? Geez, I wish I’d have seen that. But I don’t really care enough to look at either of those fuckers without a reason. Anyway, I’ll see you guys later?”

Both you and Cyrus see the girl off, waving after her as she heads to the hall. Before you try to follow suit, you glance over at the young man, rubbing your neck awkwardly.

“You know, Mom and Lilah got in a fight earlier too. I only caught the last parts, but It was still pretty rough.”

Cyrus shrugs his shoulders. “I was able to hear them talking from the rec room. At first it wasn’t really audible, but then they got pretty loud. I think they were fighting over the usual things they do. It took Pickle by surprise, though, since he hasn’t really heard them get like that.”

“I think Milos was involved too, but It might be better if I don’t talk about it thoroughly,” you hesitantly admit. “What I heard wasn’t something I was supposed to, but it wasn’t my fault. I only ran into them all in the hall, and Yosuke was pissed. I also, um, saw your doctor looking really upset. Not like, angry, but genuinely just hurt.”

Cyrus’ lips part as he hears this, but it seems he’s not sure how to respond to it right away. Eventually, he shakes his head.

“She’s sensitive about some things,” he says. “When she gets like that, I almost want to feel bad for her.”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say the same,” you sigh. “Not only did Milos and Lilah really offend her, but even Yosuke didn’t acknowledge her when she passed by. I didn’t expect to feel that way toward her of all people.”

“Compassion and sympathy are some of those things anyone can have toward anyone else, even in small ways, and even to shitty people. It only means you’re still capable of caring about others,” explains Cyrus. He then frowns. “But some people just lose their ability to be compassionate after a while. Maybe after a lot of rough patches. I often worry that all of us will last so long that we’ll stop caring about anything. We already shrug off a lot of things here like it’s nothing. Maybe that isn’t the healthiest.”

“It’s better than living in fear all the time,” you counter. “Three, for instance…she’s been here almost as long as you and she’s still so affected. I talked with her today about a lot of her issues and she still seems so hesitant.”

Cyrus looks down. “Everyone’s different. But believe it or not, she’s not just hanging by a thread or anything. She pushes through without realizing it. Even without just relying on Two’s company.”

Hearing this last statement, you wonder if he knows about the twins. He’s given no indication of it, but you also know he’s been here long enough to have seen so much. There’s no way he doesn’t. Even Lav nearly figured it out, to some extent.

“I told her maybe it’s best to learn to be independent,” you respond quietly. “She didn’t seem to take it well. But I guess we’ll have to wait and see how it goes.”

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Cyrus remains optimistic. “And if she isn’t, we’ll help her.”

He then glances down at your feet. “By the way, in all that commotion, I didn’t get to say that I noticed you’re walking again. Feel better?”

“Loads,” You give a slight smile. “At least physically speaking. Maybe after a little while longer, I can finally start exercising. I almost feel twiggy, even though I’ve been eating.”

Maybe it was a poor choice of words, because Cyrus seems a little disheartened upon the mention. In hopes of alleviating this, you blurt out something else.

“Um, anyway! I didn’t mind you guys helping me, so thank you for that!”

Cyrus can’t help but subtly laugh at your outburst. “Hey, no problem. We’ll always take care of you.”

You blush. “Thank you.”

Only then do you again remember that you’re supposed to be heading out, so you try to cut things off here. Cyrus says his goodbyes to you, staying behind as he tends to. But when you emerge in the hall, your doctor is strangely not there yet. Unfortunately, Mom is.

The pink-lipped woman is simply standing by the open gate, leaning against the wall adjacent to it, and watching the hall with her curious green eyes. She locks onto you rather quickly.

“Having fun?” She calls out. A pit forms in your stomach once you lock eyes, but going back into the room to hide would probably be a bad idea.

“We just wanted to clean up the area a bit, Mom,” you mutter. Mom only becomes even more enticed, lips widening into a smile.

“After what, I wonder?”

You realize your mistake quickly. “It’s not like that! We all got together with craft supplies to mess around. I feel bad making the workers clean up after us.”

“You’re a little princess, aren’t you?” Mom cheekily responds. “You don’t need to worry about that. Now why don’t you come over here and let mommy see your pretty face better?”

“Where’s my doctor?” You demand, not wanting to stick around here. Mom simply chuckles.

“He’s probably being held up again. You know how busy that cutie doctor gets,” she croons. “Are you going to keep your mother waiting?”

You hardly bother refusing, and simply step up to the gate. However, you remain behind the line where it usually drags, a foot or so away, even though the door is open. Mom notices this behavior rather quickly and giggles.

“Oh, are you afraid of me?” She questions your intentions. “Honestly, now. What happened earlier was nothing, just us grown-ups having a little talk. You understand.”

“A fight, more like,” you mutter. Mom doesn’t falter..

“Still, you should be more careful about lingering where you shouldn’t.” Mom doesn’t force you to come closer, instead stepping toward you herself. She then reaches over to pinch at your bare cheek to tease you. “Naughty girl. But I don’t mind it. You’re all so cute when you get curious.”

Finally, she lets you go and returns her manicured hand to her side. You continue to say nothing as the woman presses on. “Did you know my baby boy was a lot like that? Curious little thing. He was so cute when he was naïve. Only he learned much quicker the value of silence once it was beaten into him by other doctors. Figuratively and literally, of course.”

“I don’t want to hear that,” You plead, looking away. “Mom, please. Don’t you care about him?”

“I do,” Mom smiles. “He’s my little boy now. I love him more than you could ever imagine. But I’m his mother, so I have to be hard on him sometimes. Just like Yosuke has to be hard on you because he loves you so much.”

You wince. “And what about you?”

Mom then frowns. “He’s stubborn. He doesn’t know how to deal with women when they have their moments of vulnerability. He tries, but it’s always hit or miss. Even so, I still think he’s a very capable man. When he wants to be, of course. Some men just need to put in the effort. Many choose not to.”

You don’t have the strength to potentially handle the woman at her worst should you choose to make it clearer that what Yosuke did today by snubbing her was no more than an act of indifference. He doesn’t want a thing to do with her anymore, and yet she’s still so disillusioned into thinking she can just win him over by being so persistent.

You knew she was crazy. You’ve known that for a long time. But why is it just getting so much worse? Is it because of what happened with Milos, or is it something else? You just can’t place it.

Regardless, you can’t think much on it with the woman before you again reaching out to stroke the side of your head.

“You poor girl,” she babyishly croons. “Yosuke doesn’t listen to you either, does he?”

“Not really.” You look away, arms wrapping around your body tight. “Today he was mostly just angry about something. But he’s been more protective of me, and extremely overbearing.”

This makes Mom grin. “Like me? I’m flattered.”

“Mom, can’t you stop him?” You beg. “Talk some sense into him? You once said he needed to be careful. You’re reckless, but you must at least know he has limits that you don’t.”

Mom’s hand creeps a little lower, enough to cradle the side of your chin and part of your cheek. Without warning, she slips her thumb in your mouth and gives a brief, airy laugh.

“Suck, princess,” She coos. “You’re such a pretty little thing, but you talk too much.”

You blush and avoid Mom’s green eyes entirely. Truthfully, you’d like nothing more than to bite her thumb off right now, but you simply obey and start to suckle her thumb. This only delights her, a smile spread across her pink lips, and cheeks red with blush.

“Seems like my little girl’s learned to be a little more agreeable, mm?” She teases you, gently rubbing her thumb against your tongue. “Aren’t you just adorable?”

Mom lets out a flustered breath. “Oh, I’d like nothing more than to just eat you up right now. Or maybe even drag my sweet boy into bed with you just for fun! But Yosuke wouldn’t like dealing with that again, would he?”

Your brows scrunch up as you scowl, but Mom simply keeps urging you to suck her thumb, which you do while remaining utterly embarrassed by the ordeal.

“Well, no matter,” Mom chuckles. “I shouldn’t complain when I’m being given a ‘pity’ gift. It’ll satiate me for just a little longer. But don’t you worry—I haven’t given up on my little girl just yet.”

Gift? What is she talking about?

“And there’s no need to worry about anything else from today either. It’s in the past. Alright?”

You get the hint. All you can think right now is “please get your thumb out of my mouth”. Luckily, she doesn’t keep it in much longer. Someone starts to call to her from behind the woman, someone whose voice you don’t want to be relieved to hear, but are.

Mom doesn’t immediately turn around, but does frown and give a little sigh while finally slipping her thumb out of your mouth. For just a moment, you catch her trying to build herself up after hearing Yosuke’s voice, before she eventually turns around to face him with a smile. Only when she’s looking right at him does her chipper demeanor return.

“Cutie doctor, you’re late to everything today, aren’t you?” She teases. Yosuke, however, remains unamused. You think he’s still fairly angry, and that’s definitely not a good sign. Usually he’d already have calmed himself down from whatever earlier aggressors agitated him.

“I certainly hope you weren’t about to have another repeat offense,” is his only sharp retort. “I’d hate to have to get you in trouble again.”

“Au contraire, my cutie doctor,” Mom giggles. “I think it’s some of the others who are going to get a good talking to today. I’ve already been yelled at as it is.”

You wonder if that’s why she was gone earlier, and hadn’t emerged to see what all the commotion was. Monica, however, didn’t emerge either. If she’d been present at all, then why?

Mom then lets her voice go cold. Though you can’t see her expression from behind, she’s clearly upset by the way she folds her arms so crossly. “You could have at least checked on me.”

“You know I have no time. Not right now.” Yosuke doesn’t hesitate to move past her and toward you. “Come on, Rose.”

“Honestly, what are you so bothered by, Yosuke?” Mom seems genuinely offended as she turns to face you two, now dropping her usual façade just a hair. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“It’s none of your concern,” is Yosuke’s only response. He doesn’t even wait for you to grab onto his arm before he scoops you up. Rather suddenly, in fact. “Today’s not a very good day, is all.”

Mom pauses to assess his face as Yosuke turns and steps toward her again, then lets out a long, airy sigh. “I guess I can understand that much. But there’s no need to take it out on-“

“Vanessa.” Yosuke’s sharp voice rings out and cuts Mom’s words short as he stands before her. However, his sharp angry tone lulls into a mutter right after. “Not now. I can’t put up with it today.”

Mom freezes, eyes wide at the mention of her name. Her pinkish lips are now parted, mouth agape as she stands there like a statue. At first, she shuts her eyes and trembles in frustration, hand shakily reaching up, but pausing as she tries to figure out what to do. In the end, she makes one single move.

Mom pulls her hand back, face now resonating with fury, and slaps Yosuke hard across the cheek. When she’s done it, her chest puffs with heavy breaths, and she stands there watching the man with his face now pointed toward his shoulder. When he doesn’t speak, Mom does.

“Don’t do that to me, Yosuke,” she pleads with a shaking breath. “I can’t take that anymore. Don’t say her name to me again unless it's just the way I want to hear it.”

Yosuke’s head turns back, and he watches Mom with an unshaken gaze. “Her?”

“Me, her,” Mom spits. “We’re not the same person anymore. Vanessa is gone. The only ones who get to hold that name over my head anymore are the men who still own it. You may be someone I still love to have fun with, but I’m no longer who I was. This is my home now. It’s all I have, and I have to make the most of it. If I don’t embrace it, I’ll drown. You never took the time to learn that of me.”

“I never intended to,” Yosuke bites back without raising his voice.

Mom grits her teeth, but tries to stifle the wave of fury. She doesn’t hit him again, but does bring her hand to her forehead, looking defeated. “Now you went and soiled my good mood…And here I thought I was doing so well at holding it together.”

Yosuke continues to watch her as she breathes deeply, unmoved. You shiver in his arms, but he holds you close in an attempt to assure you things are safe.

Perhaps the man wants to take pity on her, judging by the tight pressing of his lips, but he doesn’t. All he does is lower his voice, exhausted.

“I apologize, but you leave me with no choice sometimes. Perhaps the others hurt you so much because you seem to never learn your lesson.”

Strangely, Mom laughs. Pitifully, of course, to where it sounds like only a breath. “Don’t tell me that. Nobody here is sacred. The moment I got you in, you were doomed to this kind of lifestyle. You got attached to someone and acted out, so don’t go telling me I’m the one with a screw loose.”

“I stopped when I had to, might I remind you,” is Yosuke’s blunt response. “I know the risks. I’m not his favorite, after all.”

“You think I am?” Mom looks dumbfounded at such a suggestion. “I’m not either. Nowhere near.”

Yosuke raises a brow. Strangely, the next words out of his mouth are seemingly more uplifting than anything, whether or not he means it that way. “And yet you remain. Evidently for a reason.”

“I suppose I still have use in my old job and this one, even if I’m only training and looking over shoulders these days,” Mom huffs out some breath. Her previous fit of rage has dulled, but she’s evidently still less than chipper after all that. You’re nonetheless put on edge. “Lilah, that little cunt…”

She then glances at Yosuke, brows just barely raising. Somehow, she adjusts herself to him and gives up on being upset. “Right, you’re impatient. Always have been, haven’t you?”

She waves her hand away. “Go on, then. I need to go get my poor boy from the hall. He knows I like to get him last sometimes. But unlike you, I won’t leave him there.”

Yosuke lets out a bothered flare of air from his nose, but doesn’t much respond to the woman before him. He finally turns to walk off, but Mom doesn’t hesitate to get one last word in.

“Yosuke, don’t assume I’m giving up on you either. I’ve dealt with worse than this. Just think of it as a little rough patch. We still have time to make it better.”

“Is that what you call it?” Yosuke questions rather boorishly. “Your persistence is no longer amusing, Mother.”

This is all Yosuke leaves her with before ferrying you away from the gate. He says not one word about all that’s happened, instead keeping his focused gaze straight ahead. You don’t even have the courage to peep out a question about his mood right now, watching how frustrated he seems.

That entire show was nothing short of unnerving. You feared that Mom might retaliate more against Yosuke than she had. Perhaps doctors aren’t people she’d lay too much of a hand on, whereas the workers are fair game to her. Still, seeing Yosuke’s cheek still a bit red from the hard slap, Mom’s fury impressed into his flesh, is frightening. You never expected she’d be offended even by him. Yet, for some reason, she is also still so adamant on pursuing him. Is this how she was with Milos, you wonder?

Regardless, you do take this opportunity to study your doctor’s face carefully. Maybe he assumes you’re doing it because you’re trying to understand his mood, but in truth, it’s only because having him in your sight only brings you back to everything that happened earlier today. You haven’t forgotten what went on in the slightest, even with the distraction today from your family.

Yosuke’s voice emerged so suddenly, and you can’t imagine just why. Was he some passing stranger, or someone more well-known? Or was it really just old and new memories meshing together as a result of you messing your head up so bad last night? You don’t know, but hope dearly that it was just the latter.

You couldn’t see yourself ever associating with a man like Yosuke. He may be charming on the outside—in fact you yourself almost fell for him once—but even he can’t totally hide his intentions to everyone. You learned how to read him even slightly with time, and no doubt others outside of this place would have been able to as well.

No, you can’t know him. You don’t want to believe you could have ever. But even denying that, you still keep staring up at him intensely, trying to rack your brain for an answer.

Who is he? Why did you hear him and that woman? Are they connected? The same questions just keep repeating over and over in your mind.

Trying to push it only starts to really hurt your head again. In the end, all you can do is rest it against Yosuke’s chest and shut your eyes a moment in an attempt to will the thought away just to alleviate the sensation. Luckily, there aren’t any sudden ghosts speaking in your ears again. You’re just too frazzled to take it right now.

“Rose.”

The next thing you know, there’s pinkish walls around you and your doctor, and he’s holding you right at the edge of your bed. But when did Yosuke turn into your room?

Maybe you’re just tired.

Yosuke gently lowers you down, and lays a palm over your forehead.

“You seem unwell,” he murmurs, no longer as sharp and stern as he was earlier, but still certainly bothered. “I had hoped you’d at least have a much better day than me.”

You aren’t sure just what’s bothering your doctor. Or rather, not until he finally adds an unpleasant bit of information.

“Unfortunately, I can’t spare the time to care for you as I’d like to,” he says. “Not tonight. I still have things to do. And, as little as I like it, you won’t be with me for a few days.”

Your heart jumps, and you look up at your doctor worriedly. “…What?”

“You’re due tomorrow, dear. I’m not exactly happy at the news, but it’s out of my hands,” Yosuke explains, hovering over you still. “I wanted to look after you myself, but even all the extra effort I put into being diligent again in front of my superior’s watchful eye wasn’t enough to change his mind. He seems adamant on preventing me from keeping you here for days and getting more attached than he’s permitted me to be. His words, not mine.”

“Then who-“

Yosuke gently lowers his hand from your forehead to your lips, placing a few gentle fingers atop them.

“I don’t know, Rose,” he admits unhappily, brows scrunching slightly together “But you won’t be in your usual rooms. Beyond the fact that they’ve chosen to move quickly after yesterday’s events, that’s what worries me most of all. Nonetheless, whatever may happen, I will take care of you when you return.”

Despite the man evidently wanting you down, you brush his hand aside and sit up.

“Will they keep me as long as you had?” You question worriedly. “Am I going to get hurt because of all this?”

“The latter part I’m unsure of, beyond being confident you won’t be permanently taken away or killed,” Yosuke admits lowly. “But I do know for a fact that they won’t keep you the full time. Only just enough for you to recover and stand on your feet without collapsing. And no doubt just long enough to study you.”

“Study?”

Yosuke frowns. “I suspect that’s what they’re up to. You made yourself a target. But, like I said before, you should be alright. You remember nothing.”

He then pauses a bit before tipping your chin up and having you face him. “Have you heard more unusual voices, Rose? Be honest, now.”

You bite your tongue and try to think of just what to say. If you admit what you heard, will that not endanger you further?

“I won’t tell them.” As if reading your mind, the man makes this offer in an instant. “But you have to tell me.”

This dumbfounds you. Is he suggesting hiding information from The Overseer? No…that’s crazy. But if he does that, then—

The thought only grazes your mind a moment, but it’s nonetheless a haunting one. If Yosuke does this, he’d be no different than Richard was. He’ll certainly be killed doing this.

“You can’t just hide that from them,” you try to tell him. “That’s going against everything they’re doing here, isn’t it? You’d get in trouble. Maybe worse!”

“I tell them what’s important,” is Yosuke’s blunt response. “I can’t lie, but I can accidentally omit a small detail and chalk it up to forgetfulness if I’m questioned. I have been working quite hard lately, after all. Everyone is prone to error under the effects of sleep deprivation. Even my superior, regardless of whatever systems he uses to function without sleep just barely enough to get things done.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Not until Yosuke sees your frozen face and calls his name for you again, more sternly.

“You can’t,” you again tell him.

Nonetheless, Yosuke refutes you. “That doesn’t matter right now, pet. Shall I make you tell me?”

You sigh. Evidently he won’t let up.

“I heard her,” you eventually admit. “I don’t know who she is, but I heard a woman’s voice again, and I know it was the same one I heard before. But I forgot it in an instant. I can’t even recall it now. As it is, I didn’t even provoke the voice. It just came.”

Just as Yosuke said, you make your own omissions and don’t tell him about his voice. And, strangely, he seems to accept your answer. Not agreeably, of course. His brows furrow just slightly in response, in fact.

“I see.”

That’s too bad.

This set of words popping into your head only make it buzz again, and while you try to hide the discomfort from Yosuke as best you can, he catches on quickly to your strained expression. His hand leaves your chin, and he attempts to guide you back along the bed with both hands on either of your shoulders. Still, you refuse to move.

“Lay down, dear,” Yosuke bids you. “Don’t think about it anymore.”

“It’s just frustrating,” you breathe. “I keep hearing voices I don’t understand, and they keep leaving me. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Rose,” you’re warned. “Ignore it, for your sake. This symptom of yours may eventually go away if you don’t keep acknowledging it so much.”

You’re stricken by the advice, so similar to Cyrus’. But Yosuke’s words are only from a selfish place. He only wants to keep you to himself. Cyrus actually cares about you.

“But what if it keeps happening?” You question in worry. Your voice winds up far more panicked than you intended, but it’s not wrong to say you’re still frightened by it.

Yosuke frowns. “ If anything else arises, I will do my best to protect you. Tell me, and I can try.”

When you again refuse to do what he asks and remain sitting up, Yosuke sighs. “You’re still so rattled. Adamant. If that’s the case, then I suppose it’s best to play it safe.”

His hands leave your shoulders, and he proceeds to step away from you. In your haze just earlier, you hadn’t been aware when entering your room. But now that Yosuke’s body has moved, and that he’s shifted toward your desk, what’s on it is much more visible. You find yourself freezing up again when you catch sight of the objects there.

Yosuke takes hold of one, a smooth, metal cuff, in his hand, plucking it from its place on the desk and cupping it gently in his palm. Without a word, he comes toward you again, and before you can protest, he tries to reason with you.

“Turn over, dear. On your own. If I have to make you, I will.”

“Yosuke…!” You plead, eyes wide. “Why?”

“It’s for your safety,” You’re assured gently. Yosuke’s olive eyes resonate with a tinge of remorse, despite the otherwise unwavering look he gives you. “Even if you promise to behave, I still worry. Besides, it’ll only make it easier for them to collect you later, in the event that you awake before you’re meant to again. Now I tell you once more—turn over.”

You again try to weasel your way out of being restrained. You even back away when Yosuke steps closer. “I’m begging you! It feels terrible being bound like that. You don’t understand! After all the time I spend chained up I…!”

You can’t even bring yourself to finish this statement. You don’t want to think about that place again. Still, Yosuke is hardly satisfied, and takes it upon himself to grab you anyway. When his free hand clasps around your wrist, your first instinct is to try prying him away. And when that fails and he climbs atop you, your next instinct is to try kicking him. This, of course, only upsets the man.

Without hesitation, he places the rounded short end of the cuff in his mouth and bites it with his teeth so that his other hand is free. Once it is, he grabs you more firmly with both hands, gripping you by the arm and the shoulder to try subduing you.

All you can do is fight him, but he’s still bigger than you are, and it’s much easier for him to overpower your still somewhat-frail body. Your struggles are worthless, and you wind up turned on your stomach with your cheek pressed against the pillow.

Letting out a few subtle grunts, Yosuke forces your wrists behind your back, keeping them pressed against the curvature of your spine with one hand spread and pressing hard against them. Quickly, he opens up the cuff with his other hand by pressing the button and letting it pop open. Though juggling this and keeping you pinned is evidently an arduous task with you fighting and squirming beneath him, he manages it, and snaps the cuff around your wrists in mere moments.

You try to pry it open by instinctively separating your arms, only to be met with the snug pressure of the smooth metal limiting your wiggle room as it’s wrapped tightly around your wrists. Despite trying to keep yourself together, all you do is sob into the pillow. You don’t want this again.

Although you expect Yosuke to get off of you now that he’s gotten you in a cuff, he doesn’t. Instead, while still straddling you from behind, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out cloth. Without a second thought, he wraps it around your head, knots it at your mouth, and ties the excess cloth behind your head. All the while, you thrash and cry and fight him, but he doesn’t allow you the luxury of winning this. His mind is made up, it seems.

Once you’re restrained, Yosuke presses his stomach against you and holds you tightly. One arm slides under your breasts at your ribcage, the other pets your head. His lips remain close to your ear, and you hear nothing but his terrible hushing noises as he tries to calm you.

“Shhhh,” he breathes in your ear. “It’s better this way. Just for now. When you come back, perhaps you’ll have calmed down, and we won’t have to do this again. Hm?”

Your heavy breaths forcefully push out of your nose, and your tears pool down and absorb into the gag around your mouth.

You go numb to all the crooning, gentle words of your doctor as he holds you tightly, arm resting under your ribcage, hushed lulls rolling into your ear, hand gently caressing your head. The heat of his body impresses itself against your backside, and even though you want to fight him more, you just wind up giving in and letting him have you. Your body goes limp, and even your tears tiredly slow to a mere trickle.

“Will you stay still for me, Rose?” Yosuke questions gently. You pause, but eventually nod.

“Good girl.”

You’re left with a lingering kiss on your temple, before Yosuke finally withdraws from you entirely. You watch in defeat as he grabs one last item from the desk, a small bit of rope which he brings to your legs and ties your limp ankles with. The fabric of the rope is soft, but still condensed and tight enough for it to hug and restrict you.

In silence, Yosuke does little else more than lay your body on its side. Though, he does smooth out the hem of your gown over your thighs, and shifts the comforter, which in the struggle had scrunched to the side of the bed, over your body to tuck you in. All you do is lay there, immobilized.

Once done, Yosuke hovers a bit at your bedside, reaching a hand down to run the back of his fingers gently along the higher portion of your cheek. You see him give only a solemn look from the corner of your eye, because you don’t want to even look at the man right now.

“I don’t enjoy hurting you,” he murmurs, dissatisfied seeing you so broken. “I only do it to help you. But I do love you, Rose. Remember that, always. And if you behave when you come back, I’ll use your Number again. Alright?”

You wearily nod, making Yosuke give a pitiful smile. He’s still vexed by many things, but seems to still be trying to be gentle with you.

“Good girl, Rose. It’ll be a little uncomfortable, but try to rest up.” Yosuke then lifts his hand away and leaves you be. “You’ll have to tough out whatever comes next. But I know you can.”

It’s all the man bothers to say before leaving you on the bed, alone.

You know that the anesthetic will flow into your room soon, just not when. But hoping to beat it to the punch, you shut your eyes and try to get away from this facility through sleep. You’re not looking forward to the next couple of days, but Yosuke was right about what he said. You’ll tough it out.

While sleeping on your own proves harder than you wanted with this position, you eventually do start to feel woozy. It’s not clear how long you’ve been lying motionless, but it’s soon hard to keep your eyes open.

On the cusp of passing out, you stop being able to perceive anything anymore. All but one thing.

“Please, Jack.”

A voice again? You’re too tired to focus hard on it. All of the words sound garbled and just barely coherent, like they’re being heard from behind a heavy door. But it sounds like the same voice you’ve heard, and it’s torn between pleading and joking. “I’d like to go home and rest my head. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day.”

You try to call to her, ask who she is, but heavily slur your weary words. You can even feel your mouth moving just barely. However, the words, which ring out more like a weak whimper, only sound restricted, hazy. And worse, the woman doesn’t hear you, nor does her voice ring out again. Instead, you hear an amused, short and muffled laugh, but it isn’t hers. It’s a man’s, and it’s familiar. You somehow don’t like that it is.

Still, unable to fight your exhaustion anymore after this, you finally slip away, and everything stops.

Chapter 83: Deeper

There’s whooshing at some point that resonates strongly, the sound of rushing blood in your head, loud like you’re standing by a waterfall with your hands covering your ears. You keep your eyes shut while trying to process what’s happening or why you hear it so intensely, but it doesn’t appear to linger long. The noise and pulsing feeling in your head eventually fade away into nothing. Only when it transitions into some kind of distant, muffled noise, one so faint that you aren’t even sure you’re actually hearing it, do you finally have the chance to focus even a little.

You had at first refused to open your eyes with all the whooshing in your head, fearing you might have been in the middle of a windstorm, or else feel like you were. But when you muster the courage to peep out from behind your eyelids now, you’re greeted by a laminated wooden floor of some kind. Your cheek is pressed hard against it, with nothing really supporting your head otherwise. Upon stirring on the floor and pushing up, you’re taken aback by where you are.

At first you don’t recognize the area, since all the orange, gold, white, and maroonish colors hit your eyes at the same time like a whirlwind. Only when you stand again do you manage to make out the shape of pillars and white cloth tables and big, beautiful windows.

You recognize it quickly then.

The sky outside is still orange as it ever was, but now there’s nobody around. No Yosuke nor Mom, and, you hope, no Lucius nor The Overseer. But when you catch wind of the same hushed noise from before again, you start to think otherwise. Your heart jumps at the low muffled tone, but you can’t make out what’s being said if it’s a voice. It sounds too far away, or perhaps like it’s in a completely different area from this.

You go quiet and concentrate as hard as you can, still uncertain of the direction the noise is coming from for now. Eventually, you are able to focus hard enough to pick up on some words, but all you can make out is fragments of sentences. You also can’t yet distinguish the voice itself, but fear the worst of whose it might be.

“…reading…spike…factors”

You’d call out, but don’t want to arouse the attention of anyone around you. Instead, you cling to your gowned body, arms wrapped tightly around it as you push on in search of an answer. Upon walking barefoot around the ballroom, you find a large, closed set of double doors with black metal knobs, opposite to the windows from the back where you’d once entered from. When you try to move closer to them to attempt prying them open, the voices in the air become more audible, easier to comprehend rather than just fragmented. Though, they’re certainly still muffled.

“…remembering things she shouldn’t?” It’s a different voice, you think.

“Not quite,” says the first. “It’s too early to consider it troublesome. The others by now had at least one comprehensible reemergence of memory. The patterns are abnormal, but don’t fully mimic what we’ve seen in the past.”

You press your ear to the rightmost door in an attempt to hear the voices better, only to realize that whatever’s behind that door isn’t them when their voices don’t change in volume or tone or anything at all. And even if they were there, your attempt to then pry the doors open only falls flat, as neither one budges even now.

“And that’s somehow grounds to exclude her from concern?” One voice seems displeased by this statement.

“No, but I’m still under the impression her memories are fractured even if she’s having these moments of recollection, if only in symbols, senses, and surroundings. She’s connecting dots incidentally through intuition, not total recall.”

Your heart skips a beat when you finally recognize the voice as The Overseer’s. And, by proxy the other must be Lucius’. You don’t like that they’re here in your dream, even if just vocally. They must be near your body. Waking up would be disastrous, but staying asleep and dreaming of this place when it’s so empty…it’s frightening you for some reason. You notice just now that since you woke, you’ve been scared, and you don’t understand why. There’s a pit in your stomach, and your chest is fluttery in a terrible way.

“I hypothesized this dose would affect a subject’s memory more strongly given the alterations, and so far that’s seemed correct. She can’t remember anything fully, no matter how strong the emotional response to it.”

Is he talking about you? Does he not know you’re able to hear him?

You huddle close to the door again and try to keep an ear on it, in case you’re just crazy. You seem convinced that the men are outside of it and that’s why their voices are so muffled. However, keeping your right ear to the door only makes you look to its left, and you see a narrow hallway there, drenched in brown wood. Mahogany, perhaps?

It looks elegant and well-kept nonetheless, and is decorated with a few short tables topped with plants or glass bowls with decorative flowers in them. The hall also has these heavy looking single doors with the same kind of knob material as the doors you’re at now. The ballroom and this hall seem separated entirely from each other, yet looking down it only makes the fear in your heart grow. It looks dark. The light from the ballroom only keeps the immediately connected passageway lit up, though it fades and dims with the length of the hall.

“Were it the case that she could, she might have remembered you more clearly than she had, given your track record for frightening the captives. Even some of the others seemed to look at you a certain way despite not having an immediate reaction, as if they understood there was a connection to be made, but couldn’t be sure.” The Overseer’s muffled voice drones on. Hearing him talk about Lucius this way while looking down the hall is unnerving, and even more so is hearing the titular gunman’s chuckle in your ears just after. As if in instinct, you quickly reach up to put a palm to the side of your neck. Even though his voice was distant, you feel as if Lucius might pop up behind you at any moment.

“I do need my entertainment, no? You should be thanking me for helping provide a valuable variable. The reactions I’ve gotten from some subjects have been quite fascinating.”

“Focus. My point is that she were a problem, she’d have made at least one full connection by now. Even forcing herself to remember didn’t completely change things. Early subjects seemed to remember much quicker, while the ones now hardly remember at all. My main concern, however, is that she’s having these kinds of spikes more frequently than some others who have exhibited this same behavior. That is abnormal.”

You slowly remove your body from the door, realizing you’d started to press your weight heavily against it as you stared intensely down the hall. When you finally snap back to attention, you see something you hadn’t before.

“This one...she’s fighting it intensely. I didn’t anticipate she would.” The Overseer’s voice mutters. Any time his or Lucius’ voice dips in volume, it’s hard to hear, but still distinguishable to a degree, if you strain yourself.

Your eyes trail over toward the hall again. There, you start to see light spilling into it from all the way at the end, to the right. One of the doors, you find, has opened. It wasn’t that way before, you don’t think.

Lucius seems to shrug this off. “Surely we can handle it without issue. She’s only a subject, no different than the rest. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

After dropping your hand from its place atop your neck, you start to step slowly toward the hall, hesitant with the now hard pounding of your heart.

“I don’t like that it’s her. I wanted to be rid of her sooner, but now I have no choice but to study this.”

“Dahlia was stubborn too. Did you expect any less?”

You freeze. Somehow, you can’t go further.

Who?

“Be quiet.” The Overseer’s voice rings out harshly. “I don’t need the reminder. That’s over now.”

You want it to, but unfortunately the name doesn’t ring any bells. You try to wrack your brain for an answer, but you just don’t know anyone by that name. It doesn’t shock you, confuse you, break you, nothing. But as it is, it’s difficult to focus on it with your body suddenly feeling like it’s wading through thick molasses or jelly. No matter how hard you try to push yourself after temporarily freezing up, your limbs won’t go forward any more. You can’t get into the hall.

But, strangely, that might be a good thing. If moments ago you wanted to go through it, you suddenly don’t anymore. But why?

Lucius chimes in again. “Well, thankfully the girl’s struggling to no avail. But you should have known the moment she began to pry that this might be an issue.”

He then scoffs a bit. “At least the other boy was smarter than this one is.”

“He was no more than a nuisance. I wasn’t prepared for that to happen yet. And on such a bad day…”

You stop trying to force your way into the hall, instead stepping to the side and leaning heavily against the wall to the right, to the left of the doors, and right at the edge of a long mahogany table. A grand mirror, you find, is set up and hung just above the table. Its edges are black metal of some kind, finely cut and shaped with intricate curves and etched leaves. You’d not seen the mirror pane from where you were earlier, but now that you’re right here by the thing, it’s clearer. You suppose you hadn’t noticed this nor the doors by it when you first came to this ballroom.

Lucius’ voice drops its casual tone for just a moment as he ponders his superior’s words. “Prepared?” However, in an instant, he seems to try brushing this off too. “Anyway, I suppose we’d need a longer term of observation to be sure of this trial’s efficacy. I hate to admit it, but I don’t think this is conclusive enough to determine things.”

You find yourself breathing aloud to try calming your beating heart down. Why are you so scared?

“Yosuke really did pick a live one.” Lucius mutters after his statement, though he goes quiet when his boss starts to mull things over. He seems not to be attentive to most anything Lucius just said since he’s not bothering to address it. Is he distracted?

“The injections after hers have been promising so far. I’ve hardly had to make drastic changes since the last. This version of Mnemosyne is more stable than I ever hoped.”

When you look again down the hall and at the light spilling out from the door into it, you notice the outline of shadows against the open door, reflected from whatever’s inside the room. One of them is most definitely the shape of a man.

“Don’t get excited,” Lucius’ voice is firm. “What I said was right. We still have to wait and see how things turn out to decide what to do.”

The Overseer seems to grow quiet, and as your eyes focus intensely on the shadow, you see another. One leaning its head in its palm. Eventually, The Overseer mutters again.

“I’m tired of waiting. I know I’m close. Close enough.”

“Enough?”

This seems to upset The Overseer. His tone changes to one of frustration. “Look at me, Lucius. I can only do so much here. Getting the drug to a stable point isn’t all there is to this. There’s so much more work that needs to be done. But with how things have gone, it’s become increasingly difficult to manage this, even with you here. Shrinking the sample sizes hardly helped alleviate things. I suppose even I have limitations.”

Your eyes shut. You feel so dizzy all of a sudden and you just want to get out of this place, or at least find out what the hell is down that hall. A part of you is screaming not to push it, but…

“Don’t start with that,” Lucius is sharp. “Not again. Elias was a menace, but his words have no merit anymore. Here, your work is what defines you. It’s hard work. Grueling but commendable. Focus on it like you always do, if that’s what you need to feel satisfied.”

You can’t stop feeling dizzy. Why?

In the end, you slip down to the floor and lay on it, even turning on your back for some reason. Your eyes stay shut, squeezed tight as the dizziness leaves your body feeling like a feather in a windstorm.

The Overseer refutes this. You find that his and Lucius’ voices are not quite as muffled, but are now sounding between heavy throbs and whooshes in your ear. Your head’s just pounding now, just like your heart.

“Even he in all his stubborn tendencies didn’t take on this much work alone. My father was no fool, but he seemed to think I was.” He then pauses only a moment to sigh. “All this work…it’s taxing. I don’t know how he managed, but I often start to wonder whether I’ve been in over my head all these years. Dahlia could have helped, but now she’s gone. I can’t even properly seek assistance from Vanessa anymore thanks to all my mistakes with her. So am I foolish?”

This annoys Lucius. “Don’t be dramatic about it. You know well that setbacks are common. You tote the belief that regret is pointless, so stick to it like you always have. Consider that the alternative would have been working alongside Nicholas all your life. Would it have pleased you to?”

Another name you don’t know. You’re so confused. What’s happening?

“Under,” The Overseer corrects bitterly. “I never wanted this the way he did. I only used it to my advantage. Coming back was my mistake. I turned it into something of use. But sometimes, I ask myself why I did.”

“Oh?” Lucius scoffs again. “And what exactly will you do when you get your little drug to a stable point? Sell to the highest bidder? Shut everything down and live like a rich hermit?”

The Overseer’s voice grows quieter, making it a bit hard to hear with all the noises in your head now. “You know well that money is no issue. Don’t worry about it now.”

Some kind of light starts to emerge from the darkness behind your eyelids, not quite shining so brightly as to blind you, but definitely shining through the dark veil and starting to bother you.

Slowly, you open your eyes, but the ballroom around you is now entirely gone, and only the same image of a foggy light remains. You blink over and over and over, but all you see is the same thing.

The Overseer’s words somehow tick Lucius off more. “You know, I never understood quite why you were so adamant on suddenly asking for my help when you won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“I tell you plenty.”

You see movement then. Subtle, but like shadows hovering above your body. You think they’re facing away from each other, or perhaps toward you. It’s too hard to tell. You want to reach up, but your hands are suddenly unable to move from the ground of wherever the hell you are. You feel as if something’s grabbing you, pulling you under.

Lucius remains adamant. “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve always done this.”

Though he sounds frustrated, The Overseer does not let his voice rise. Somehow, his tone is different. Angry, certainly. But it’s also melancholy.

“There are things I can’t reconcile within myself, and I have no interest in burdening you further with that. I’ve already hurt you enough.”

You lay there, breathing in panic, heart pumping and head throbbing. You think your mouth is open but you just don’t know anymore. You don’t even know where you are.

The men’s voices have stopped temporarily, the shadow to your right turning its head just slightly.

“…Ulrich.”

The shadow to your left goes still, but eventually turns itself. The Overseer does not acknowledge Lucius, instead becoming irate. “Do you hear her? She’s stirring.”

You hear some kind of hard tap on something, followed by loud, steady beeps that echo in your head.

“Her pulse has raised. Is it not your job to be on top of that kind of thing? Don’t lose your focus worrying about me.”

The right shadow brings what you think is a hand up to its head. “Fuck me, that’s a problem.“

“Fix it. I’ve got the readings I need for today. Drug the girl and take her away. I don’t want to see her face right now.”

You try to call out, but your mouth is numb and unable to make any movements, like the rest of your body. You feel something sharp on your arm for only a moment, the sensation instinctively making the fingers of one hand twitch.

“No second thoughts, I hope.”

The Overseer’s anger does not relent. His muffled voice is as sharp as ever. “I have work to do. As your superior, I’m ordering you to do yours.”

“…Yes sir.”

Things go quiet for a moment, and you hear what you think are footsteps against a hard floor, while having nothing to view but the right shadow hovering over your body. However, the quiet eventually stops momentarily when you hear The Overseer’s voice again, more distant than before.

“Lucius.”

“Yeah, boss?” The shadow above you turns its head. The Overseer pauses again before sighing.

“Thank you.”

Strangely, Lucius is not bitter or frustrated—not outwardly, anyway. He simply brushes it off and gives a bit of a half-laugh.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, now. No need for thanks ‘till we’re done.”

“…Right.” The Overseer’s distant voice sounds even more muffled. If you’ve been drugged, it seems you’re starting to fade away again because of it. Even the light and the vague shadow above you are starting to completely whirl together and blacken until there’s nothing in your view anymore.

---

When next you come to, everything’s as foggy as you remember it being the last time you had your shot. Well, mainly you remember the gist. It feels more like a faint memory with how out of it you are.

Your body remains heavy, immobilized by what feels like an invisible pressure. Your head continues to pulse, and again you are left feeling as if you’re tumbling or being spun around even somehow knowing you’re really just laying still. This time, you have the sense not to panic as hard and try moving about. You can remember the experience from a while ago just enough, but you’re struggling to remember anything else right now with how out of it you are.

You were in a room, weren’t you? You had a dream. You can’t fully think of it yet. Upon feeling yourself wake just a bit, you can’t help but feel like there’s something you were supposed to do, or perhaps something you were supposed to remember. You just can’t. But, knowing that you’re in the facility, you think not remembering anything and not having a reason to be afraid is a good thing. If you were scared before, you aren’t right now.

Not yet.

You’re just so tired. And with how disoriented the space around you feels, and how unbalanced you’re perceiving your body to be, you’re in no rush to peep out and see what’s around. Maybe drifting off back to sleep will bring you a moment’s peace from all this. No dreams, no mystery, no suffering. Just peace. You’re not sure who’s around, or if anyone even is. Since nobody’s bothered you yet, you want to think you’re okay for now.

No, you’re not okay. There’s something itching at the back of your mind, and you can’t fathom why or what it is. You want to rest. Your body wants you to rest. But your head…it’s just pounding.

You attempt to think about it, but all you can procure is the idea that something must have happened before this that you’ve just forgotten. Temporarily, you hope. You’re sure someone mentioned that memory loss happens with these shots sometimes.

In the midst of you trying to parse this, you hear shuffling around you. It snaps your mind to attention right quick.

No voice follows, no immediate noise of any kind either. You try to focus on the sound of the presence in the room with you, but hear nothing for a good while after. Only when scribbling starts up do you suppose you’re being monitored.

Yes, that’s how it works, right? You’re just being watched. That’s all.

But it isn’t. And you should have expected that.

After a long while, you hear the sound of scribbling stop, followed by something being set on a metal surface to your right. At first, you hope it’s just someone watching you quietly, but very quickly you start to involuntarily twitch your head to the side just once when the rough touch of a hand meets the inner part of your leg, starting at your ankles. Slowly, it glides up, creeping toward your thighs. You want to shake the hand away, but lay immobile. You hear a slight huff of breath through someone’s nostrils, as if they’re laughing at you without really doing so.

Their hand lingers a moment at your thighs, but then lifts and instead trails the fabric on your limp body, up your stomach, and onto your chest. You lay there, tired, disturbed, as the hand paws at your breast, cupping and groping it roughly for just a moment. It’s enough to make you scream internally for them to stop, all while knowing you can’t do a thing about it.

The hand doesn’t linger forever, nor does anything more come of it. In an instant, your body is again untouched. Your heart remains at a quick pace. Fast enough to make something to your right start beeping loudly, but the noise all just sounds like blaring sirens in your tired ears. You could try opening your eyes now if you wanted, but you still feel too sluggish and weighted to do so. You aren’t sure you really even want to know who’s here. But when there’s hard tapping, and the siren noises are silenced, all you hear is a deep, gruff chuckle.

You’re too out of it to think, but you know that voice. And you fear it. But just as you fear the man may do more at any moment, you hear slow footsteps, then the sound of a curtain shutting. Not on a short rod, but on a long one. Or—perhaps a curved one? The sound of the curtain trails from one ear to another, but you can’t much discern what’s around you otherwise.

You then drift off again, thankfully forgetting what just happened while dipping into another slumber.

No dreams come, or at least nothing comprehensive. You do see flashes and whirls of color again, though they’re not like a garden of flowers. It’s all whites and oranges and greens and, strangely, pinks. You feel something toward this amalgamation of color, but don’t know why. As you dance in it all, you feel a tenderness in your chest for some reason.

Still, it comes to an end rather quickly, or so it feels. Your unconscious spell is broken promptly by a woman’s voice calling out. You can’t hear what it’s saying clearly, but know somehow that she’s calling to you.

Regardless, hearing it now shakes you awake, and your eyelids raise quickly.

The first thing you see is white. A curtain enveloping the bed you’re in. A bed you’re…cuffed to?

Your eyes trail down to your wrists, and you are able to move them a little. Locked around each one is a silver handcuff, chained and linked to the raised bars of your bed. Tugging your hand is difficult to do even a little with how heavy it feels, but you manage to just barely move it enough to make the silver metal clack faintly against the bars when the cuff’s ring flops over against it.

Trailing your eyes further to the right reveals a cart with a tray, packaged syringes of various sizes, bottles of water, and glass vials on it. Looking at one of them closely reveals a label you don’t recognize, only partly facing you. The tiny font is hard to read without squinting, but you try anyway. It says…

LUMA?

You don’t know what it is, but fear what it could be.

Beside the cart is another monitor for your vitals, with wires leading to pads on your chest and a clamp on your finger, and a tall spindly looking rod with a bag hanging from it. From it extends a thin tube that trails down, and picks up over the side of the bed and toward your arm. In it, there’s some kind of clear tape-looking substance that’s holding a tube and a needle against your flesh. The tip of the needle is deeply embedded in your arm, and you can feel it in you when you attempt weakly to move it. It’s a terrible thing, not painful, but not at all comfortable. Being self-aware of the sensation only leaves you queasy.

Your upper arms have white cloth on them, leaving you to discern you’re in a white gown again. The rest of your body looks covered in a white blanket, so you aren’t sure what else is wrong with you, if anything.

Around your mouth is cloth, and the feeling of it knotted against your tongue only leaves you with an unpleasant flash of memory. You recall Yosuke doing this to you. You remember that terrible night. But as for anything afterwards, you’re drawing blank. For now, you can’t recall. You think you awoke at some point, but can’t remember what happened. What you do remember, however, is a voice calling to you. One that has been calling to you since a few days ago. It must be the same one.

Again, her words escape you. It’s so frustrating that you want to scream. Perhaps that’s why the gag is around your mouth, wrapped tight around your head.

You do nothing more than lean your head back against the pillow and shut your eyes. You’re beyond groggy, not wanting to move and not caring to think right now. But perhaps you’re tired of sleeping, because you don’t try to again. You can’t even really force it this time, nor does it sweep over you despite the exhaustion.

You breathe a sigh heavily through your nose, angry at this ordeal, but hoping it’ll be over soon. The others might be worried about you not showing up for a few days, but you think you told them a shot was coming up, so maybe they won’t have to worry as hard. Plus, Yosuke had said you’d be gone for a bit, right? This is just to be expected.

Why are you in the recovery room, though? You can’t fathom it. You suppose they didn’t want Yosuke to see you, so keeping you in your designated rooms would have been a bad move. But here?

Not like there’s other people around you. Vaguely, you can see shadows and shapes of beds from behind the curtain, but there are no bodies present. None but-

Your eyes widen when you see a giant figure of a man, a man you don’t want to see.

He’s facing away from you, scribbling more information down and grumbling to himself about something.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

You then remember him feeling you up when you were last awake. Has he done more? Please no, oh god.

You try to assess your body, but feel no soreness other than where the needle in your arm is. You feel okay. Good. But you don’t think that’ll last, knowing him.

You scowl watching his shadow. No wonder that man was being so cheeky last you saw him. He knew this was going to happen, didn’t he?

Your rising panic is halted by a distraction, though you’re grateful for it knowing that your heart rate going up would only make the machine to your right start beeping again.

The doors to the recovery room open, and in comes a thin figure with a few papers held in its hand. You can only guess between Jonathan’s and Gale’s for a split second, before you hear the familiar cool tone of the latter’s voice chime in once they’ve reached Milos at the foot of your bed behind the curtain.

“Simanek, do tell me why it is that I’m the one fetching things for you when you have strong legs?” They question the man curiously. Milos, dropping the clipboard to his side, simply laughs. He plucks the pages from Gale’s hand and gives them a look-over.

“Ah, Gale,” he greets. “You must understand—I need to watch the girl, no?”

Gale shrugs this off. “You’re just making excuses to avoid all the legwork. So be it. I’d be remiss to argue when there’s things to do.”

This, however, only makes the entertained man give a cheeky reply. “Don’t act as if you don’t just want to see the little pup. I heard what happened. You’re always so curious. But if you must know, I was attempting to sort my notes on her condition. But it’s frustrating. You forget I have no formal training like some of the others. So, it’s difficult to organize this correctly and precisely like them, even if I do it well enough my own way. I’ve been told my methods are inconvenient to the boss. He seems to want this done right.”

“I suppose I sympathize with that,” Gale sighs. “I’m not exactly a medical doctor. I still struggle sometimes, even with the training I got.”

Gale continues to feign innocence after their brief sympathetic response. “What do you mean by what you said, by the way?”

Milos only chuckles again while picking up his clipboard once more and pinning the loose pages under its clip. Once done, he reads the information on it more closely.

“He’d have sent for a nurse to deliver these papers from his personal collection if he so wanted. You probably asked to do it yourself.”

“Clever,” Gale quietly admits to their sham. “Truth be told, I was already on my way to the area and heard from Nathaniel she’d be here. I figured I’d save a nurse a menial job, but it was also advantageous to me. I can’t help myself, you know.”

“Do be careful,” Milos practically smirks with his voice. “He seems quite sensitive about this other little rabbit of his. Don’t meddle too much. Unless you’d like worse than a few lingering bruises.”

“You’re one to talk about not going against him,” Gale retorts slyly. “Of course I won’t. I’ve no intentions of getting on his bad side again. But he’s yet to tell me wh-“

“Does he need to?” Milos interrupts casually. “Gale, you do remember your place, don’t you?”

This, however, does not deter Gale, and they manage to respond without missing a beat. “As you should know yours, Simanek. Yet you disobey so often because why?”

Milos laughs from his gut. “I have a history with these boys. You wouldn’t be able to compete.”

“I garnered as much. I’m no fool,” Gale mutters. “You and Lilah both know them from somewhere. But I’ve come to figure you know Lilah quite a lot more than they do.“

“There’s hardly any reason to dwell on that. What happened isn’t exactly supposed to be public information. I suspect it’s because he just hates to hear me talk about it.”

Gale hums in thought. Their shadow brings a hand to its chin while pondering this. “True, but shall I guess anyway? For fun.”

Milos scoffs a bit, amused by the idea. “You’re only lingering for her sake, I see. You make the mistake of attaching yourself to those you can only hurt. But fine.”

His shadow shrugs. “Do tell me what you think if you like. I can’t tell you if it’s correct. He wouldn’t be keen on me telling you about it. But it would admittedly be entertaining to hear your guess.”

“Oh? Well, You were a rather frisky man in your youth, I presume,” Gale guesses, brushing aside Milos’ accusation. “Judging by the way you are now, and how you’ve spoken of your old family in drunken ramblings, I can tell a lot about you. Perhaps not everything, but I certainly see the obvious—you and Lilah are vastly different ages.

“I’ve also seen how she gets around you. Kinder than with others, even if she does still bite. She obeys you like a puppy. Or, perhaps she once did. She seems quite reserved about obeying around other watchful eyes. Yet she still listens even if begrudgingly. Almost like she does with our superior, but not quite.”

Milos again drops his clipboard to his side and tips his head back while surveying the much shorter Gale. You watch quietly as the two practically stand off in silence. That is, until Gale reaches a potential conclusion.

“You were her first, weren’t you?”

Milos laughs aloud but says nothing. This only frustrates Gale, who scoffs a bit. “If so, I shudder to think just when it occurred. That’s quite disturbing. In fact, I’m shocked you’re not in jail.”

“Ah? I have exclusive membership to a fine club of wealthy gentlemen,” Milos jokes. “I only got chased off by her father. He didn’t do much else for many reasons.”

“My, I was only inferring, but you went and confirmed it without meaning to.” Gale says, almost in disbelief. “Unless you’re showboating. Are you proud of it?”

When Milos only breathes in laughter in response, Gale shakes their head. “You’re dangerous, Simanek. There’s a lot I’ve overlooked, but even that’s something about you I won’t willingly defend. You do realize you must have done Lilah’s psyche some damage in pursuing a relationship with her at such a vulnerable age?”

Milos’ shadow reaches a hand up and pats Gale on the back. “Naïve, you are. You think she didn’t want it? How very precious. That girl is a demon. Like father, like daughter. Regardless, you should stop prying and get back to work, my friend. But you have thoroughly amused me. You’re quite observant. If only you were stronger, too.”

“I’m certainly strong enough to take a beating,” Gale points out, reminding the man subtly about their previous brush with The Overseer. “Anyways, I suppose that’s better for me that you don’t go into detail. Even if it’s in the past, I’d rather not picture it.”

“Oh, it bothers you?” Milos chuckles ominously. “Well, you came here, and you are a part of something sick yourself. For what? Do you know?”

Gale makes a few broken noises of thought, but ultimately falls flat on an answer. Milos relents.

“You’re no better. You’re as sick and hollow as the rest of us, no?”

Gale sighs and shakes their shoulder away. “Yes, I’m aware. So be it. But my heart isn’t as black as yours.”

They then try to change the subject and make a joke. “What a nasty little breakthrough. Perhaps you’d like to talk about your family again next? It might cleanse my palette.”

Milos huffs at the rather unsubtle jest, his voice lowering. “Go on, Gale. Before I get angry.”

Supposing it’s better to stop poking at him, Gale drops the subject, and turns to leave, But before they move, their tone changes, and their voice resonates with worry as they mumble out a request.

“Don’t hurt her, Simanek. Please.”

“You ask a lot of favors without giving in return,” Milos reminds them. “I’ve spared your own girl as it is, and then you ask me not to hurt mine. Now this?”

“Forgive me for pecking,” Gale sighs. “I’m a bird hovering over these girls. Like I said, I can’t help myself.”

“This prisoner has gotten herself in plenty of trouble as it is, you know,” they’re reminded. “If she gets hurt, it’s because she chose to accept that she would be. Resilient, that pup, but still a frightened little thing nonetheless.”

Gale goes silent for a moment, thinking on this. Eventually, they mutter, “I see your mind’s made up. I suppose I can’t stop you from doing as you please like a wild tomcat. In fact I’d hoped him keeping you here with a task would have dissuaded you, but I suppose it’s no surprise it doesn’t. Still, leave me out of the discussion. If I have to take care of the aftermath as I always do, then I will.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Smith,” Milos calls after them as they try to walk off. “Yosuke is her doctor. He will deal with the aftermath and pretend to be her savior like he always does. Your job is only to watch as everything you attach yourself to is eventually lost. That’s your punishment for choosing to pursue your curiosity.”

It’s all Gale bothers to listen to before they leave the room. You wish they’d stay, but know they likely have things to do that keep them from doing so, even if they want to.

You almost feel bad for them. They seem to show kindness even if it is something they brush aside for the sake of “progress” or “knowledge”. You wonder, now, if it was something they learned to do for the sake of their job. You always figured they were just capable of terrible morals from the start. But behavior is learned, it seems. Not just imbued.

Perhaps it’s the memory of your time in The Overseer’s room that shakes another memory in you, but for some reason, you suddenly recall a flash of something else from earlier. You remember waking in the ballroom in a dream, and you remember hearing his voice and Lucius’.

But what were they saying?

Your attention is again grabbed by Milos’ shadow as it starts to move a bit. Fearing that it might be toward you, your eyes instinctively shut. Lucius may be adept at knowing when you’re feigning consciousness, but on the off-chance Milos isn’t, you’re going to try this trick again.

Unfortunately, you’re correct about him coming to you. The curtain to your right is moved back enough for Milos to go past it, though he closes it behind him and sets the clipboard down on the cart. The clacking of metal rungs and whirring of the curtain as it slides along the rod above only raises your heartbeat. Unfortunately, the machine rats you out as it starts to go off. Milos is rather quick to silence it.

“Ah, so the pup is awake again,” Milos chuckles from above you. His rough hands grab your jaw and tip your head toward him. “You must have heard all that.”

You sheepishly open your eyes to the green-shirted man, watching the smirk on his lips and the black gaze upon you with a mixture of fear, and condemnation.

“A pretty face when it’s angry,” he laughs. “I don’t mind that you know all that of me, pup. My boss simply hates you knowing about us, but perhaps it matters little when you overheard what you did before.”

Your gaze does not budge, your anger relents. Milos’ fat-lipped smirk does not at all falter either.

“You’re not happy to see me, my pup? I’ve missed being able to see you. I only had to come here because the boss doesn’t think you deserve better after your little eavesdropping spiel. A habit, isn’t it? But it is a way to keep me occupied too.” He then pushes your head away and releases your jaw, managing to get a fractured, brief whimper out of you that muffles into the gag.

“A small precaution,” you’re told. “You are quite noisy, little pup. Yelping about, begging for help, asking questions—this is your specialty, no? I’ve heard stories about you.”

He glances up at your vitals and chuckles. “You’re still being heavily affected. Good. Can you move?”

When you don’t try to, he grabs your neck. Not enough to choke you, but enough to scare you. His rough fingers wrap firmly around the side of your neck, and breaths start to spill heavily through your nose. Instinctively, you weakly wriggle and writhe beneath his grip, cuffs sliding against the bars. However, you’re not yet strong enough to move quite so quickly. Your body still remains heavy, as if something is pressing down hard on you. Every bit of movement you can muster only temporarily shakes that feeling, but it returns so immediately that you’re left dazed.

Please stop! you beg in your head. Attempting to speak is difficult both because of the gag in your mouth, and because you find it hard to do more than babble or make noises right now. Naturally, watching your frightened response only serves to entertain your watchdog.

Perhaps the man is a drop in the bucket compared to Lucius, whose torment of you still burns in your mind. But knowing how bulky Milos is, how much of a paperweight you are beneath him, and how he is as unpredictable as his former partner, well, you can’t help but be afraid still.

God, you’re still too out of it for all this fright. If only you had been able to fall back to sleep. But now Milos won’t give you that chance, will he?

Of course not. Milos said The Overseer had him here for a reason. He’s a terrible man who has traumatized you. Even though it’s been so long and you’ve been through so much more since his abuse, you can’t just ignore it. You can’t forget it. You can find ways to fight the response to it, but the damage doesn’t just go away.

The Overseer must have counted on that to eat at you. He’s bitter about every problem you’ve caused him, so perhaps this is one of his ways of getting back at you for it.

Milos eventually pulls his hand away, still with a smirk on his lips as he understands your position. “So you can’t move much.”

He watches you from above, light spilling past the top of the curtains and illuminating the top part of his head. The rest of him is bathed in dim light, as his hulking mass blocks anything immediate. He casts a shadow over you.

“I’m sure that doctor of yours would much prefer you like this,” he teases. You only side-eye him in horror while trying to figure out what he’ll do. If there are cameras in here, he’ll get in trouble for trying anything won’t he? But does that really guarantee you’re safe?

“Yosuke seems to want to keep you to himself, but he forgets that you are public property here,” Milos goes on with a knowing smile. You panic in silence as he reaches down to slowly pull down the blanket, letting it trail off your body and bunch up by your ankles. “I’ve been rather generous and letting him have his way, but I’ve heard he no longer has the right to stop me. However, I find that being allowed to do something takes the spice right out of it. You understand that, right?”

He chuckles and starts to tease at the underside of your chin. When you wearily shift your head away from him, he follows you. “A pretty little girl who likes to push buttons when she’s told not to is no strange thing to me. But your fire is a little different. Weak.”

Your nose sucks and expels heavy breaths, chest puffing up as the man does no more than linger on your flesh with amusement in his eyes, like an animal playing with its prey.

“Are you frightened, pup?” Milos makes fun of you without remorse. He glides his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along the cloth until he again reaches the bare flesh along your legs. His coarse skin rubs along the inner part of your right leg, and he walks down your bed as he feels you.

“You should have stayed asleep eh?” The man laughs. “But don’t worry, I’d have done this either way. It was fun using you last time while you were unable to process anything, while you laid there with your legs spread and your body limp. But now you get to enjoy it without the luxury of movement, don’t you?”

Your thighs weakly press together, but Milos doesn’t let that fly. Both his hands now come to your knees, and he tugs them apart effortlessly. His dark eyes observe the white fabric between your legs with amusement. While he says nothing, you tremble on the bed, praying for someone to come interrupt him again so you don’t have to feel him jam his cock dryly into you. But something tells you that’s not going to happen.

You whimper as the man then bends down and gives a generous, slow sniff of what’s between your legs, letting out a pleasured, rolling groan as if satisfied by it. The feeling of his gross face so close up to your panties, the breath he expels from his nose, the brushing of his hair against your thighs—god, you can’t stand it. It’s disgusting. But trying to shut your legs isn’t an option with his strong hands holding them wide open.

Only temporarily does he drop his grip on your knees, but he wedges himself on the bed between each leg before you have a chance to shut them. Kneeling, the man watches you carefully with glee as he moves to undo his black pants.

“Let’s make this quick, pup,” his horrible, gruff voice speaks lowly. “I’ve done enough work today. But if I don’t do this now, someone else will come along and interrupt me.”

Please! you beg in your head further, only letting out crackled moans of protest from your throat in a failed attempt to protest verbally. You don’t want to feel pain again. You know it’s manageable, but it still scares you to be here beneath this man again. Immobile, especially. When it was Yosuke, at least he didn’t hurt your body. Milos will.

“You’re still shaking like a little rabbit,” you’re reminded as Milos presses his weight atop you. One hand stays at your side against the mattress, while the other he uses to take his cock out, lowering his clothes to do so. The thing’s not limp, but still not fully hard yet. While he hovers over you, he starts to pleasure himself dryly, watching your every terrified expression and the rising and falling of your chest as you breathe in a panic, all to get himself hard quicker. “I don’t have time to make you wet, so it’s better you relax for your own sake, pup. Though, your cunt being that tight will only feel better for me.”

You shift your head away and avoid watching him. One hand balls into a fist as you await his use of you. The other with the clamp simply has its free fingers curl tightly against the sheets.

The last time you felt it that dry was not a time you want to remember, but the only solace you have, the only thing you can cling to for now is the fact that this won’t last long. Milos just wants to feel like a man and watch you squirm, like most of the rougher men who have taken you against your will. Even if he causes you a lot of pain, someone will deal with the aftermath. Someone always has to. The only thing you have to worry about now is enduring the pain, and dealing with another risk of pregnancy again. But so far, it seems you’ve evaded it. You try not to think what might happen if a man like Milos was responsible for ending your lucky streak.

Milos throat lets out strained breaths and groans as he jerks himself off enough to get hard, and each sour breath hits your cheek like a tidal wave. You let out a rasp into your gag as the man then starts to pluck your panties aside with two big fingers. He wastes no time getting what he wants from your body afterward, shoving himself past your folds and forcing his head into your pussy.

All you feel is dry, and the thickness of his cock only puts so much pressure against you that it hurts. You let out a throated groan of pain that fractures with how hard it is to make strong noises, eyes shutting as the man atop you laughs in your ear and pushes his hips forward, digging himself deeper into you. He pulls back just slightly a few times, then prods back in as if trying to force your walls to loosen enough to take him. When you struggle to let him through, he grips your thigh and slams his crotch against yours. The dry shoving of his flesh against your walls makes it feel like you’re torn open, and you let out a muffled cry that, despite being a scream, only sounds like a loud whine.

Milos stops a moment inside you, and turns his head just slightly so he can see your face better. Your eyes are wide now, tearing up with the pain. All the sight does is leave a crooked smile on Milos’ face.

“I told you,” he teases lowly. “But don’t worry, it won’t hurt long. You remember, don’t you? You’ll loosen right up the more I pump into you, like a whorish little girl. But this tightness, this wrapping around my cock feels damn good. If only you could understand why it’s so luxurious a feeling, little one.”

Your legs rub against his clothed thighs as you desperately try to shut them, but all you can do is lay there weakly with the man stuffing your insides. You feel like if you aren’t bleeding by now, you’re extremely lucky. It’s hard to tell whether you are at the moment in your shock from being forced open.

Milos chuckles and lets his large hand grope again at your right breast. His fingers teases at your nipple from behind the fabric of your white gown.

“Are you trying not to cry, little pup?” He makes note of your teary eyes. You’ve yet to really start crying harder than just a few lingering tears brought on by the sheer pain, but feel like you could start crying with the intense stinging between your legs. “Shall I make it all better?”

After teasing your chest for a little while, his hand slips up to your gag, and he tugs it down hard. The relief of being able to suck air in through your mouth unfortunately does not negate everything else you’re putting up with.

Your eyes had been avoiding the man, but you shift them over to the side for a moment, only for you to catch sight of Milos crashing his head down to force his mouth upon yours. His beard brushes roughly against your chin, his thick tongue sliding against yours as he gives you a powerful, terrible kiss. It’s then that he finally starts to buck his hips, slowly at first as he attempts to push in and out of your tight cunt.

You pull slightly against your cuffs, but can’t do a thing to stop the man or the pain he brings as he begins to fuck you. His hips thrust powerfully into you, and he lets out hungry, rough grunts into your mouth as you writhe and whimper weakly beneath him.

At first, it’s a steady pace, but the moment the man feels your body trying to loosen up for him, his thrusts become even more intense and sporadic. Eventually, Milos leaves your mouth and stops pressing his weight against you. Momentarily, he stops thrusting to get back on his knees. Both hands adjust your thighs against his hips. Once he has you in a position he wants, he begins to pump again into you.

The gag falls beneath your chin, and while your noises are a little more audible now, you still struggle to form words. No amount of effort is able to get out the protests you want to. You wish you could scream and have someone come in and stop Milos, but since Gale left, he’s made it a point to move quickly, and he’s certainly gotten lucky.

Perhaps he likes the possibility of someone walking in on him. You know the man doesn’t care an inkling about what others think of him, nor does he find consequences applicable to him. The Overseer couldn’t possibly punish such a beastly man who could retaliate if he so wanted.

More crackling squeaks and gasps leave your mouth as Milos pounds into you, the toothy grin on his face present even now as he grunts and huffs in his concentrated pace. By now, your pussy has become wet enough to take him. A response out of your hands, but one you’re grateful for as it lessens the intense friction of earlier. But right now, you just feel limp and like a living toy that can do no more than be used. Your legs are still being held open while Milos takes you, and you can’t do anything to stop him with your arms tethered down by the handcuffs.

Why? Why did The Overseer allow him to see you? He’d have known Milos would be mischievous behind his back, or even blatantly in front of it like Mom has tended to. If he didn’t want that to happen, why would he let the man come here?

It’s all you can wonder as you’re raped, and perhaps it’s the brief distraction of thought that helps with the pain. While Milos pounds roughly away, you try to imagine all the reasons why he’d be here. Milos had said—oh god—that he was here because The Overseer was annoyed at what you overheard, right? He—ah!—must have known this would happen if he was left alone with you. If he didn’t want it to happen, someone should be watching Milos now, or else someone should be sent here to make sure he stays—ngh!—out of trouble.

You can’t avoid the man pumping in and out of you for very long. Each hard thrust of his cock into you only takes you out of your thoughts. What’s worse is now that he’s gone harder, your arm keeps moving, and the needle in it is only starting to dig around in your skin. It hurts so much…It hurts!

Milos’ grunts become gruffer as he starts to reach his peak, meanwhile you are completely limp and unaroused. If only you could feel good just a little, but you’re so groggy and drugged up that you can’t find an ounce of twisted desire in all this. No, all you can do is lay there and hear the man let out a loud, laughing growl as he starts to come, and before you know it, your cunt fills with warmth as your assailant’s thick load spills into it.

When it’s over, your eyes become glazed in your limp state, and you feel utterly numb. Milos grips your legs firmly and thrusts a few more times to finish emptying himself into you, but soon stops and catches his breath. Your own mouth draws in air of its own as your eyes start to close.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Milos questions as if it were no big deal. “You overreact for no reason, pup. But if you don’t mind…”

Your eyes open wide as he starts to grip your neck again. Even his other hand joins the action and starts to grip your throat tight, and your legs are left plopping back on the bed. Not once does Milos pull out of you.

“…I think I’ll keep going, mm? Now that you’re all wet with my cum, you should be able to take me better.”

You’re…choking?

Your daze is shaken, and you’re snapped back to a panic as Milos’ thumbs press against your throat and restrict your breathing. The act only sends your heart in a frenzy, and your mind flashes back to when the man first choked you. Not only that, but you struggle to breathe in much the same way as when The Overseer dunked your head under the water, and the combination of both these memories leaves you rasping as if trying to scream.

When the machine again starts to beep because of your heart rate, Milos frowns and reaches one arm over to angrily tap the thing to shut it off. In annoyance, he takes one hand away to lift up your gown and rips away all the padding on your torso that the monitor was hooked up to, then tugs away the clip from your finger. Once you’re free, he returns to your neck and starts to pump into you again, grinning hungrily all the while now that he’s gotten back to what he wants.

“You’re still afraid of this?” he berates you when you squirm beneath him. “Have you learned nothing? I thought you might be better handling it after everything you’ve been put through.”

His grip loosens slightly when he sees you struggling to breathe, but his hips don’t stop bucking against you. Heavy breaths spill from his nose as he grunts and grinds against you, but as he starts to get into it again, you both hear a noise, and Milos completely stops moving. His head turns toward your left, as he attempts to survey the door that way from the corner of his eye. Your own gaze trails that way, only to see a shadow enter the room from behind the curtain.

“Milos?” A smooth, low voice calls. “Don’t tell me you’re being a troublemaker again.”

The man cock-deep inside you simply laughs gruffly and pulls his hands away from you. He tugs your gag up and stuffs it again in your mouth, shutting you and your fractured noises right up. While he speaks up in response to the voice, he pulls out of you and starts to wipe himself off using some tissue procured from the cart next to you.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, boy?” He chuckles. The figure walks past other beds and to yours, standing idly by the curtain with its arms crossed.

“I thought I’d check up on things and see if you’ve completed that paperwork,” the voice answers. “Or am I to assume that you’re shirking your duties again?”

Milos zips himself up and climbs off the bed. Without a hitch, he opens the curtain enough to expose Lucius from behind it, standing by the foot of your bed. He takes one look at you and frowns.

“I see. You really don’t change, do you?”

Milos remains jovial still, not the least bit bothered by the man’s displeasure. “Bah, you people and your interruptions. I assume he was grumpy about it? He could have easily just looked away. Besides, do you get to talk, boy? You’ve done the same.”

“Well that’s besides the point, isn’t it old man?” Lucius smiles slyly at the hulking figure before him. He’s not a weakling by comparison, but certainly a bit shorter. You shut your legs awkwardly when the two men start to address one another, realizing your body is out on display once the shock of seeing the familiar partner of The Overseer has worn off. “Honestly, the one thing he said not to do, and you do it. You’ve been on a pretty fast track for disobedience lately.”

Milos raises a challenging brow. “Is he here?”

“If he were, I’d have come much quicker than you did,” Lucius remarks with a frown. “No, he’s just gone out again on urgent business. He’d probably be yelling at you himself if he hadn’t.”

“It’s only a bit of fun, my boy,” Milos chuckles as he nudges Lucius’ shoulder. “He wouldn’t have to see it if you just erase the feed, mm?”

“You’re asking for me to cover your ass?” Lucius scoffs. “I do it enough, comrade. I got an earful last time he found out.”

“Are you one to talk so high and mighty? I know what you did to her,” Milos smirks. “Lilah made it perfectly clear she was holed up in that room, and It isn’t hard to guess what you did knowing how you are. Perhaps you get it from me.”

“A common interest is no grounds for such an accusation, old man.” Lucius unfolds his arms. “But entertain yourself with the thought all you like.”

This makes Milos bellow a laugh. “Lucius, always the cocky one. I suppose that was my doing too.”

He then places a hand on his partner’s shoulder. Despite the quiet standoff, Lucius can’t help but laugh as well.

“Take a break for a bit,” he bids the jovial Milos. “Do the paperwork later. It’s almost time for the prisoners’ day to end, so you should be getting to that girl of yours anyway.”

“But I was having fun with this one.”

Lucius gives a brief laugh. “You can stick your dick in anyone, comrade. But we have rules, now. Don’t be so greedy.”

“Ah, and you?” When Milos questions Lucius’ intent, the pale gunman shakes his head and denies it.

“I’m not interested in your sloppy seconds. I made my decision.”

“For him?” Milos teases Lucius with a smile, making him frown in turn. “You’re lucky Elias didn’t catch wind of that.”

Elias? The name rings a bell for some reason. It doesn’t hurt to think about it, but you can’t exactly apply it to anything when you try. No, it must have been something you heard before. You did wake up before all this, after all. But…

Despite the quiet displeasure, Lucius does not back down. “And you’re lucky the boss still puts up with you. Now that he’s in charge, he hardly has to, does he?”

He then sighs. “Regardless, I see you only uttered that name to force me to do you a favor, you red rascal. He’ll throw a fit about it if he has to hear it twice in such a short time. Fine, then, but know he isn’t stupid. He’ll know something went on when he sees a feed missing.”

“I appreciate the effort nonetheless,” Milos pats Lucius’ shoulder and promptly drops his hand. “Da, I’ll go.

“Do bring something to clean that mess you made when you come back from your drop-off,” Lucius calls after him as Milos starts to walk. “Because I’m not going to do it for you. I don’t want something happening because you left her used for too long.”

His voice raises when Milos keeps walking. “And I mean drop-off! No visit. Not until this one’s out of here.”

Milos says nothing, but waves back at Lucius as if to acknowledge the statement. You scowl watching him go, watching him just walk away as if nothing he just did happened. Your body is still stinging with quite a bit of pain after that dry entry, but you’re thankful it didn’t last long.

Now you have to deal with the other man.

Your eyes trail over to Lucius who simply observes your limp body with displeasure, fractured brow raised. Seeing his face now, and having heard him more only makes you remember further that there was something else you heard. You try to strain it, but all you can muster is hearing The Overseer in a dream. He was talking to Lucius, you think.

About what?

You only have a short moment to think on it before Lucius calls you again, but it’s not enough time to make a connection. You remember struggling like this once before with what Yosuke did before your shot, but that something snapped you to. You hope desperately that it’ll happen again here.

“It’s quite disgusting to see you like this again, princess,” Lucius’ dissatisfied voice rings out. “I was getting used to not having your filthy little body around.”

He watches your face intensely focused on him. When you realize he’s speaking to you, your brows scrunch up in a scowl.

“Oh, are you mad?” He chuckles, stepping toward your bedside where Milos had stood earlier. “You think you can start acting tough just because we’re a little more familiar now? But it’s cute, if pointless, that you’re trying to be brave.”

You try to say something to him, but can’t speak still. All that comes out is a muffled grumble.

“Can’t muster the words, princess?” Lucius wastes no time teasing you about it. He grabs the hair at the top of your head and pulls it back, leaning himself over you and hovering his face dangerously close to yours. “I liked hearing you cry, but you really are better this way. Mouthy little shit.”

Though you’re not hooked up to anything to monitor your heart rate, the man hardly has to glance you over thoroughly to hear your sharp nasally breaths and see your expression soften. He only smirks.

“You’re still afraid. As you should be, girl.” Finally, he lets you go, shoving your head away.

“Still, for as little as I like you chatting, I was hoping when I heard you were awake that you might be able to talk by the time I came, only because I needed you to. I have a few questions of my own, rather than it being the other way around.”

Your eyes watch his hand as it comes to his right pocket. From it, he plucks a familiar knife. When you try to focus on why you know it’s color and shape, it dawns on you that it’s Micah’s. Lucius carelessly bounces the thing up and down in his palm, smirking as he watches your face.

“That fiery redhead was a bit naughty, so we took his toy away for the time being,” he explains for you.

“Though, for as little as I find him threatening, I was intrigued to see him take action. Watching him hit Sven was entertaining. But evidently, the boss didn’t much agree.”

You flinch when he flips the thing open with a trick of his hand, continuing to smile cheekily at you all the while. “Still, this thing is quite handy. Micah’s not the only one here who likes to play with toys.”

He reaches over with a few fingers still wrapped around the knife while using the rest to pluck at the hem of your gown. Slowly, he lifts up your skirt higher than it already was until your abdomen is exposed.

“Here’s what I’m going to do, princess,” Lucius begins explaining. “Earlier, you started to wake up from your sleeping spell. Do you remember?”

You exhale a long breath from your nose, but nod. You can’t communicate to him that the specifics of what happened or what you heard are still unknown, though.

“I was a little distracted then, I admit,” Lucius chides himself for the fault. “But I now know you were at least partially awake, just immobilized like you are now. I’ve heard you speak of dreams where you could hear people talking, so I suspect that this was the case when you were in our care. I’d like to know just what it is you heard.”

He raises a finger at you when you start to connect the dots while watching the knife carefully. “Now don’t start panicking. Mind you, if I’m going to be doing that man a favor, I might as well take the advantage and get what I need too without worrying about my superior having evidence of it. It’s more so a personal matter. But know that I have no intentions of hurting you more than usual unless you give me a reason to.”

He then begins to trail the tip of the knife delicately across your abdomen, going back and forth. “Even if I were to cut that gag away, you can’t talk right now. However, you can still move your head a little. So when I ask you a question, princess, you’re going to nod yes or shake your head no to answer it. Understand?”

The tip of the knife presses against the center of your abdomen once it’s reached there, hard enough for it to just barely pierce the flesh. You wince.

“Milos won’t be gone long,” Lucius reminds you. “So if you take too long to answer, or you don’t answer truthfully, I’m going to stab you. You’re such a feeble thing that you quake and shiver when you lie. It’ll be easy to guess whether you are. Predictable little thing.

“And understand that me stabbing you will in no way interfere with your drugging or our observation of you, so it’s not something the boss will lose his mind over if he learns I did it. You won’t quite die from it if I do it right, but you’ll get to spend even more time with Milos. I’m sure he’ll have a good time taking care of you. Yosuke as well, I’d imagine. He’d have a field day with you immobilized while you heal. So do be honest. Nod if you understand.”

You nod, wide-eyed, with your fingers twitching a bit as they curl up into your fists. With your silent word, Lucius presses on.

“You heard us, didn’t you?”

You nod

“Clearly?”

You aren’t sure how to answer. For the sake of not lingering on the question long enough for Lucius to go through with hurting you, you simply nod. All the while, you try hard to rack your brain for an answer.

What were they talking about? What did you hear?! Please, you’ve got to remember!

“Do you understand what it is we were discussing?” Lucius questions with a frown.

Your head subtly shakes. For fuck’s sake, you can’t think! You’re starting to panic. For the moment, you shut your eyes and fight your brain hard for an answer.

What was it?

What was it?

A loud SNAP sounds in your ear, shaking you and making your eyes pop open. Lucius’ hand then snakes away from your ear, and he scowls.

“Don’t shut me away, girl,” he spits. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to make more noises, fighting hard now to make some kind of muffled speech. All you can muster is rasping the word “wait”, but it’s hardly distinguishable with the gag.

“Did you hear what we said about you?” Lucius doesn’t stop. You breathe heavily through your nose. You don’t know the answer to that, but you think it’s yes, so you nod.

Lucius thinks a moment and frowns. Rather than ask more yes and no questions further, he pauses and thinks on things, eyes shifting away. “Hm. This won’t do, will it?

Finally, he reaches up to yank the gag away from your mouth like Milos had before, and you again suck in heaps of air. Lucius simply watches as you do this, perhaps while trying to figure something out. Eventually, he swipes the tip of the knife sharply along your skin in one short, swift motion, enough to take you aback. It hardly feels like a deep cut, but it stings regardless. You whimper throatedly in response.

“You’re getting there,” Lucius notes quietly, brows furrowing. “I don’t have the patience for this, so I suppose that’s good. Try to speak. Say my name.”

Lucius returns the knife to it’s previous point and keeps it firmly pressed against your skin. You scowl at him, but do as told to the best of your ability. All you can manage is a low whisper, fractured but comprehensible enough.

“Lu…c…ius.”

“Good enough, I suppose,” he scoffs in response to your strained and hushed reply. “How irritating. But an opportunity is an opportunity. So, you heard the name Elias from Milos just now. Does it mean anything to you?”

You look away and try to think. Where did you hear it? You know you heard it.

You try to prolong your time as much as possible while Lucius simply keeps his dark eyes locked firmly on your lips. You try to move them and pretend you’re struggling to speak, but after a moment of nothing coming out, he catches on. In response, he digs the knife deeper into your skin, just a hair, but just enough for it to hurt more. You wince.

“I asked you a question, Ten. Answer.”

“Don’t….kn..ow,” you plead with a whisper. Lucius doesn’t appear to like this.

“The brief memory loss was no longer an issue around this time when you were with Yosuke, nor later when here with my superior,” he remarks. “So I have no reason to believe you don’t actually remember. You’re just struggling to. Think hard.”

You try again, but nothing comes. “Don’t…know.”

Lucius again digs into your skin with the knife, making you let out a pained breath. This time, he asks,

“Looks like you need a little bit of help. Fine. Did you hear all those names?”

Names? What names?

You suck in breath through your teeth as the sharp, biting sensation in your abdomen lingers and strengthens. Again, you shut your eyes and try to think. Names…more names than one?

Finally, it clicks. You heard several names. You can’t remember the context, but you are finally able to recall being confused about having heard two others.

“Dah…lia,” you repeat mindlessly. “And…Nich…olas.”

At first, you think that’s all Lucius wants to hear, but when your eyes open again, he doesn’t seem pleased. His eyes are narrowed, and dark brows furrowed down. When you attempt to run the names through your mind again, you are able to hear Lucius’ voice in your head.

“Ul…rich?” You mimic weakly. Lucius’ expression does not change. Luckily, nor does his pressure on the handle of the knife.

That’s right. You remember hearing the two men talking about your state. You were so caught up in your dream that everything they said confused you. The mention of Dahlia, of Elias, of Nicholas—none of them affected your head or changed anything in you. But at some point, you heard the two men speak of those names. And Lucius? He spoke the name Ulrich softly, with concern.

You realize, then, why Lucius is looking at you with such embitterment.

“Those mean nothing to you, girl,” he says firmly, after a moment’s silence. “They are not connected to you. Do you understand?”

You nod again, slowly. Lucius simply scowls and grips the knife’s handle tighter.

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” he spits, having gathered what you now know. “Never let it slip once from your lips, or I’ll come and rip them off. I’m the only one who’s earned the right to use it.”

“I…” your lips tremble. You aren’t sure what to tell him, what to say. But when you make this noise, Lucius presses harder on the knife and digs into the wound he’s created again. The sharp pain makes you weakly grunt in agony.

“Do you know why you’re still alive, girl?”

“Don’t…kn..ow,” you plead for him to believe you. Lucius frowns.

“Guess.”

You already said you don't know! You grit your teeth as the pain persists. It’s all you can focus on, but for the sake of preventing further digging, you say the first thing you can guess.

“Res…ults?”

Lucius tilts his head. “Good girl. You don’t live because you’re you. You’re only a guinea pig. If you stop being useful, you no longer need to be alive. I’ll be all too happy to kill you then. Were it not for him, I’d do it now. But he’s made his choice.”

He slowly retracts the knife. “But know this. I will disobey him without a second thought if I must. Even at the cost of his results. If I ever hear you say his name, I won’t hesitate to kill you. But while you are a stupid girl, you do know better about some things. Don’t you, princess?”

You don’t respond, looking away instead. But Lucius is satisfied enough with this gesture.

“Now let me give this to you straight,” he starts up again. “As I said, none of those names are associated with you. Don’t go wracking your brain hard for answers and get yourself into another mess. I’m telling it to you directly so you don’t have yourself another little incident. Really, you should consider yourself lucky that you didn’t remember anything substantial.”

“Voices?” you ask with a whisper. Lucius scoffs and wipes the knife on the sheets of the bed to clean it. He then promptly flips it shut with a loud clacking noise.

“Dahlia’s, I wager.”

What?! Your eyes widen at his willingness to tell you that. Not only that, but it hardly makes sense. He just said she had no bearing on you.

You also notice that he’s said this in a much lower volume, which you find odd if he’s really going to erase all this from the feed. There’s no need to be secretive then. Still, this strikes you. Could one be quiet enough for the cameras not to pick up their voices?

Could you do the same?

Gears in your head turn at this realization, yet you’re still in shock at what Lucius said. It’s like some double whammy. But right now, your immediate concern is of Dahlia. Who the hell…?

“But…na..me...?” you try reminding him that he said she wasn’t associated with you, which he catches onto.

“I never said you didn’t know her,” he mutters bitterly. “I only said that neither name is associated with you. You knew her by another name. Nicholas you don’t know at all.”

Despite all his anger earlier, he now smiles his usual cold smile. “If It sparks memories in you, then that’s just fine, isn’t it? I get to come kill you, use you, recycle you—anything I like. There are others ahead of you worth studying anyway. I only choose not to compromise my boss’ research by killing you without reason because I respect him. But if you give me a reason, I won’t obey even him.”

He chuckles to himself. “Plus, telling you everything outright wouldn’t be as entertaining. I want this to eat at you. I want you to suffer having the truth just out of reach. Small steps are suitable for a princess. A dainty, pathetic little thing.”

He doesn’t give you the luxury of responding. Lucius slips the retracted knife back into his pocket and then promptly tugs the gag back over your mouth. Unlike Milos, he reaches around your head to tighten it further, where it may have loosened.

Once this is accomplished, Lucius then observes your wounded stomach, which has now started to bleed steadily. A stream of blood has begun to trail down the side of your stomach, since the knife dug deep and was twirled around enough to make a small crater. It doesn’t’ look or feel like it’s completely pierced into muscle, but it still makes you queasy to see any kind of red, bloody dip in your skin.

You watch with uncertain eyes as Lucius’ cold fingers glide gently around the uninjured skin near the hole dug into your flesh, but you can still somehow feel it sting even though he’s not directly on it. You wince again, and suck air through your nose.

“Hm, the old bastard needs a use today beyond just torturing you for the hell of it,” Lucius muses with his voice low. “I’ll have Milos deal with this too since he was so brazen as to fuck you in front of prying eyes, as he probably will again when he gets another chance. I suppose it’s not as deep as it could have been, so you’ll be just fine, princess.”

Lucius then picks up all the pads, the clamp, and all the wires that have since fallen to the side of the bed or the floor and sighs. Quietly, and with displeasure, the man picks up Milos’ other mess and at the very least replaces the pads, sticks fresher ones on you, reattaches the clamp, and makes sure the vitals monitor is still working as it had been prior. Once it’s all over, the dark-haired Lucius then moves to pick up a small syringe to unpack, then the bottle from before labelled LUMA.

His dark eyes notice you watching it intensely, but Lucius says nothing as he sucks the drug up into the syringe. You realize he’s likely going to prick you, or administer it through what you have on you already. Not wanting to have to see it, you turn your head away while Lucius prepares to give it to you. Your eyes squeeze shut as the man works the tubing, but in moments, it’s all over. Once the noises stop, you finally look back over at him and the emptied syringe in his hand.

Lucius is now eyeing the bottle curiously, as you had just before.

“Is this what your prying eyes are after? It’s only a casual label. I never named this drug,” he finally speaks up. “I am quite fond of it, having worked on it so long, so I suppose having the opportunity to talk about it is a comfort of some kind.”

You notice his gaze has not yet moved from the bottle. He seems entranced by it. “I never cared to spread this to others, nor was it ever made for the greater good. Hell, maybe it isn’t even fully finished as it could be, but stable enough to be used. Whether helping others was my father’s intention, I don’t know, but it was his work to begin with. I only felt obligated to help finish it as a means to lay his name to rest.”

You’re confused at first, wondering what drug it is before realizing that what he’s talking about is likely the anesthetic. Lucius places the bottle back on the tray and frowns. “For years, I was unsure of myself, and of what it was I wanted to do with my life. But I’ve left it in the boss’ hands for the longest time. And as this is now my drug, the name on it is in reference to my own. ‘LUMA’ is just a namesake, princess. It carries the Marcellus name, but once also carried the name of Luke, my father, who named me after himself. Now, the drug’s namesake is my own. But it’s just ‘anesthetic’ to everyone else. I prefer it that way. Informal.”

He then looks at you when you look at him with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. “You’re still so bothered by all that just now? It’s nothing personal, girl.”

He pauses and rethinks this, looking up. “Well no, perhaps it is. I am quite sick of you.”

You scowl slightly, catching the man’s attention and making him give a sly smile in amusement at the gesture. “Do understand—I have done to many what I once swore I never would. I am a monster, but I’ve given up on fighting that. He and I both did long ago. We’re both going our way without any more remorse. You and everyone here just happen to be victims of the path we walk. We see you as nothing more.”

He chuckles again as his eyes next glance at the monitor by your bed. You notice by now that you’re starting to feel a bit tired, and that the drug is taking effect. The fogginess from earlier had slowly crept away enough for you to be awake for today’s torment, but now it’s returning.

“You’re lucky not to know the same pain that we do, girl,” Lucius pecks at you like a buzzard. His arms fold, and he watches you lean your head back into the pillow further. It’s suddenly started to feel so heavy.

“Being beaten and abused makes you cry and shake, yet you’ve only endured a small time of it. It pales in comparison to a lifetime of hardship. Of responsibilities and expectations you never asked to have. And if ever you once understood pain, the memory of it all was wiped away.”

Lucius then pauses a moment and his smile fades. “Perhaps if you understood what it felt like, and perhaps if you were smarter, I might respect you. But all you are is worthless. You create problems, just like her. When I took you from your room yesterday, I couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic you looked. You’ve looked that way since the day I ripped you away from your old life.”

In your exhaustion, hearing these words makes you realize he had likely been in your room when you were still passing out the other night. You think you remember hearing voices again then, but all you can fully recall now is laughter. It was only his, wasn’t it?

As if on cue, Lucius chuckles privately. “And to think you could have avoided being here. I find that funny. But it was never up to you.”

You try to muffledly let out a noise of attempted speech, but find you’re too exhausted to bother.

Everything that’s happened since you woke has felt like it’s taken so long, but perhaps it was only a few hours. You certainly wouldn’t know, but between the pain in your stomach and between your legs, you’re just tired. Sleep is actually something you’ll welcome, especially if it means getting away from Milos. At the very least, even if he fucks you again after this, you don’t have to be awake to endure it.

Still, you’re frustrated by all that you’ve been told. But with your head fading fast, there’s no time to ponder it at all. You have no time to think of The Overseer or his father, the man named Nicholas, nor anything else. You only start to wonder who Dahlia is, trying to understand why you can’t remember her despite being plainly told you knew her. And why by another name? Who was she to you? Lucius seemed to speak negatively of the woman, so he must have known her once too. That, you think, is the most puzzling thing of all.

You’re burdened, as the man intended you to be. You have answers, but not enough. Not even the right ones, really. You’ve hardly learned a thing. But unfortunately, there’s just no time to keep mulling it over. Your eyes can’t stay open any longer, and you drift off while Lucius hovers over your bedside, watching intently. In moments, you fade away.

---

You wake up briefly again later on, still completely dazed and feeling heavy as you had before. The first thing you try doing before your eyes even open is running through what you can remember of any other times you’d awoken. At first it’s just an instinct, as if you’d been itching to do it. So, you figure it must be important.

Luckily, you haven’t lost anything from earlier. Not this time.

Yes, you can vaguely recall your dream of the ballroom, the voices of The Overseer and Lucius. And then…

Your brows furrow in a twitchy manner in response, but don’t stay that way long. You do remember waking up to Milos. Upon assessing your body again by feeling alone, it seems the stinging pain of being shoved into has dulled into a lingering soreness. Not as painful now, just extremely uncomfortable.

The bare shifting of your legs leaves the feeling of fabric rubbing against them, and you’re left to guess that your blanket is back atop your body. Suddenly, you feel a warm hand on your forehead, lingering there with a feather-light touch that seems uncharacteristic of the man who was delegated to watch you. Weakly, your eyes open, and at first all you see is a blur of whites and greys and blacks, all around dark brown skin.

Your vision remains blurred, but you find yourself too tired to keep your eyes open anyway. You simply close them, and lay quietly in your dizziness. Even though you were confident you’d start to wake up, it seems that assumption was wrong. Is it the shot you were given that’s affecting you now, or did someone give you more of the anesthetic? Your body’s just a mess that they can’t figure out half the time, it seems. When it’s time for you to be drugged, you keep needing more and more of that anesthetic. Will it just kill you one day? Will your heart simply stop beating?

You don’t want to think about it. In any case, perhaps you should call that drug by it’s Luma name, but referring to this meshing of Lucius’ names doesn’t sit well with you. He prefers it impersonal, and so do you, frankly.

Strange to think it was his father’s work, and even stranger to think Lucius gave an inkling of a care for family to bother finishing it. You’d always been under the impression he was like The Overseer, hating the concept of family closeness, embittered by it all. You wager Lucius’ story about his family was really the truth, then. To think he actually cared about his father somewhat…it’s surprising.

He’d said he wasn’t too attached to the man, but certainly didn’t hate him. That was either a lie, or he simply downplayed things. Lucius does seem the type to do so. Though, you wonder what The Overseer had to say about Lucius’ relationship to his father as a man who was purely embittered by the memory of his own.

Elias…you can remember the name being said. Lucius seemed to know him too. Or else, it just sounded like he did. But even Milos mentioned the name, and he mentioned it to Lucius as if he would have known that man too. So, why? What’s the relationship?

Come to think of it, Milos spoke so familiarly to Lucius. This man must have known him for a while too. Perhaps even beyond just as a hitman. He spoke of Lucius picking up his own traits, after all. That doesn’t happen in a short timeframe. You picked up a few habits from your family too, but it took a long time. Maybe you’re overthinking things and Milos’ words were all just in jest, but surely there was significance. There had to have been.

Between trying to understand these people’s relationship to one another and your own relationship to the woman named Dahlia, your head’s spinning like a flying saucer. The physical weight you feel and all the exhaustion certainly do that no favors.

“Are you satisfied?” Milos’ voice echoes in your head. You’re sure he’s in the room too, but with your head spinning, his voice sounds so distant.

“I’m disappointed,” you next hear Gale, voice low. It’s much closer than Milos’. “I know you want to keep prodding at her, but let her rest. She needs it.”

“She doesn’t deserve it,” Milos gives a subtle, throated scoff of amusement to this quiet plea. “He certainly seems to think so. I think he only wanted me to scare her.”

“But we all know how you are.”

You hear a few footsteps, and the closing of a curtain before Milos’ voice again chimes in. “Go on, now. I have to keep watch over the pup until they say she can go back, which might be soon. You have your own work to do.”

You lay quietly in the bed for a while after this, not being disturbed by Milos just yet, though you’re not holding your breath. Still, in all your dizziness, you again can’t help but drift off in the softness of the pillow beneath you. For how long doesn’t much matter to you, because you’d rather not be awake if Milos intends to mess around again for his amusement.

You dream more coherently this time, eyes opening to the garden yet again. You’re so foggy that even in your dream, you can’t help but struggle to get up from being positioned on your back along the grass. And even when you manage to do so, you stumble against the garden walls, the leaves and branches within the bushels scratching lightly at your skin as you settle against it.

Looking down, your body is still donned with the usual rose gown, perhaps because you’ve gotten used to appearing here this way. You’d rather not be in white again anyway.

Tiredly, you stumble down the long paths of the garden maze, turning fruitlessly at many corners and ending up nowhere despite hoping you would again. You walk and walk and walk, but nothing emerges. After a while, you give up, and kneel on the grass, leaning your left shoulder against the bushy wall of the maze.

In your dream, you’re able to speak, and so you tilt your head up and call out for the woman whose name is unknown to you. Desperately, you hope her voice will ring out one more time like it has before, and that this time, you’ll suddenly remember something you couldn’t.

But nothing happens. The air of this outdoor landscape remains still, all signs of life abandoning you in it.

However, as you kneel there, some unknown force pushes you forward, and the sudden sensation shakes your senses just enough for you to stop feeling quite so groggy for a moment. You wind up on your hands and knees, but when you sit up and try to look behind you, there’s nothing. Unfortunately, you remain on edge.

The movement doesn’t happen again. Whatever it was that shook you is now gone. But while you’re no longer clinging to the bushy walls of the maze, you decide to stand again. Now shaken to awareness just a bit more, it’s easier to push forward. That hardly changes the frustration of navigating a seemingly endless maze, but you won’t stop trying.

Maybe if you force it in your sleep, you can make something appear like you had once before. Maybe-

Ah! Your head stings all of a sudden, so sharply and so intense that you pause immediately and bring a hand to your temple, head tilted down and eyes squeezed shut. The sharp pain lasts only a split second, but you start to think if it’s that intense that you can feel it in your sleep, it must be worse in reality. So, you stop trying to force it.

“Is something the matter?”

Your eyes open in a flash as those words are uttered from beside you. Upon seeing your surroundings again, they’re different. No longer are you surrounded by just the bushy walls, but now you’re in a nook of some kind. It takes you a moment to really gather, but upon seeing the fountain from your previous dream surrounded by the same pink and green rosebushes, it doesn’t take long to gather where you are.

You’re no longer standing, either. Rather, your body is seated on the stone bench you saw before to the fountain’s right. And to your left…

Your eyes trail slowly toward the presence, and your heart sinks when you see Yosuke. He’s sitting politely, back against the bushy wall, and one hand occupied with a tall glass. Not a wine glass, but something thinner. The liquid inside is bubbly, and tinted yellow just faintly.

After taking a sip, your doctor simply smiles, but does not turn toward you.

“You seem distressed.”

You shake your head. “You can’t be here.”

“Why not?” Yosuke questions without skipping a beat. “I am where you place me.”

“I don’t want you to be here!” You spit out, practically whining. You bring both your hands to each side of your head and exhale a heavy breath. “I’m so confused. I’m going crazy with everything that’s gone on since the other night. You’re the last person I want to see.”

“Am I? I’m here, so perhaps that’s not true,” Yosuke points out with a handsome smirk. “At least be grateful I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve no intention of it, dear. Unless, of course, you will me to. It is your dream, after all. I’m only sharing it with you.”

You’re not just mad that he’s here, but you’re mad that you actually feel somewhat comfortable with it after all the bullshit you’ve been through in recovery. You don’t want Yosuke, of all people, to be a comfort right now. Perhaps that’s why you were so defensive.

Your hands fall in your lap, and you gaze over toward your side at Yosuke as he takes another polite sip.

“Why am I seeing you now?” You mutter in question. Your doctor only gives a short laugh.

“Is there more to that question?” He then turns his head toward you, still with his handsome smile. “You’re trying to make sense of it, I can tell. You’re asking yourself if I’m important here. But I’m only here because you’re mulling it over in the first place.”

“I heard a footstep,” you remind him, as if he’d know. But if he is part of your subconscious, wouldn’t he? “I woke up because of it.”

“That could have been anyone’s,” you’re reminded. “Lucius’, for instance. Maybe he came here to corner you.”

“What about you?” You ask brazenly. “What if it was yours?”

“Mine? Why would I have been here?” Yosuke raises a brow at this. You frown.

“I guess I made an association because of what you did recently. I keep thinking maybe we knew each other. And you seemed so upset when I suggested it.”

“Me? I’m only a dream. I don’t quite remember that.”

“A nightmare,” you correct bitterly. “I can’t escape you. But no, I meant the real you. The Yosuke I know.”

This Yosuke doesn’t really reply, simply humming before having another sip of his liquor.

“It…could have also been Dahlia’s,” you suppose, shifting your eyes away. “I don’t know who she was, but she called to me. I know she did, even if I can’t remember what she said. So maybe she was looking for me.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Yosuke hums in thought. “But are you really going to find an answer? You can’t remember. No matter what, you’re still the girl you were when you woke up at the facility. No longer the one you were before. You’re recalling information, but applying none of it. Names are only names, places only places. And voices? They’re only voices. There’s no significance that you can garner.”

Yosuke sips his glass again before gesturing it to you. “Perhaps this will loosen your tense mood, my dear.”

“No. I don’t want any of that. Never again.” You refuse. Your face then scrunches up in disgust. “God, I can smell it from here.”

“Suit yourself, darling,” Yosuke chuckles as he tips the glass high against his pips and sucks up the rest of the drink. With a satisfied sigh, he places the now-empty glass carefully down on the ground, and turns his focus fully on you. “And what will you do now? Wait things out until you wake again?”

“I’ll find my way,” you assert, standing up. “I’ll try to keep searching this garden. There has to be more here. There has to be something I’m-”

You hear a voice again in the distance, eyes widening when it sounds out. Yosuke doesn’t seem to notice it, however.

“Dahlia?” You say quietly as if in disbelief. But before you can walk forward, you feel Yosuke’s hand grab firmly at your wrist. He stops you, and rises himself.

“Stay,” he bids you. “You’re only going to get hurt searching for answers. You’ll endanger yourself. Stay here, with me, until your dream fades.”

All you do is turn and fume at him.

“It’s my dream!” you assert, balling your fist. “I’m in control. Not you!”

Yosuke smiles calmly at your attempt at standing up to him, but doesn’t seem convinced. He steps forward enough to reach you with his other hand, and with one fell swoop, the man grips you by the shoulders and spins you around. Rather than attempt to embrace you or grip you, he shoves you against the bushy wall by the bench and pins his weight against you. One arm snakes under your ribcage, while the other pins one of your wrists against the scratchy bush wall.

“If you were really in control and didn’t want this, you’d have willed it away already,” Yosuke breathes against your nape. “Part of me is still imbued in your mind, and bound to you. Why refuse to realize that?”

“G-get off!” You try to regain control, but your doctor keeps you pinned. He smiles.

“Evidently you want to feel good,” he murmurs. “So I’ll make you feel good, pet. How would you like it?”

You try to push him away, but he’s far stronger. He shouldn’t be. This isn’t fair!

“With my tongue?” Yosuke persists, licking at your ear and making your cheeks flush red. “My fingers?”

You try gripping Yosuke’s wrist as he starts slipping his hand down your abdomen and toward your panties, but struggle to pull it away. Gently, your doctor’s fingers stroke along your slit from behind the cloth. With how sweetly his pads are teasing you, you can’t help but let out a bothered sigh. This only makes the man laugh.

“I’m giving you quite a few choices, dear,” he notes lowly. “The me in the waking world doesn’t have to know you enjoyed it, either.”

You shut your eyes as Yosuke lifts his hand just a bit in order to slip his fingers down your panties instead, now starting to stroke at your clit.

When you struggle to form words, and instead let out cracked whimpers, your doctor teases you further.

“You do like it when I have to force you to want it, don’t you? But you’re free to indulge now.”

“I-it’s the principle of it,” you refuse, but just barely. “I…”

“Let this distract you from all your woes,” you’re edged on with a gentle voice, followed by a sweet kiss along your jawline. “You deserve some relief, don’t you?”

No. This isn’t what you wanted to deal with in your dreams. The wedding, the dance with Mom, all that gave you more than enough of your doctor. Being fucked by him in your dream is the last thing you wanted. But with him teasing at your clit so sweetly, breathing against your neck, pressing his warmth against you…

It’s not real. It doesn’t matter, right?

Though, the one thing that’s keeping you from giving in entirely is the smell of alcohol on his breath. It’s disgusting to you. But if what he drank was anything like wine, why does it smell so strong?

“Ah!” you gasp as Yosuke’s fingers suddenly push into you. His grip around your other wrist tightens as he starts to pump his digits slowly in and out of your cunt, all while nipping at your ear and trailing kisses along the side and nape of your neck.

“I-I…” You try to find the words to resist him, but struggle to. All you do is let your doctor tease you with his warm fingers. By no means does he make you come, but he goes at it long enough for your body to want more than just that.

You’re ashamed to be getting so aroused in a dream. In fact, you hate how real it all feels. But you can’t stop feeling good, and the version of Yosuke in your head was right—the real man does not have to know.

Perhaps it’s because he’s part of your subconscious that this Yosuke knows exactly when to start giving you what you want. Your doctor starts to release his grip on your wrist, and brings his freed hand to your waist. Slowly, he pulls out his fingers from inside you, leaving a slick, wet trail behind. You moan as he then tugs your panties down with one hand, and guides your hips out.

Your hands grip the bushy wall, while Yosuke proceeds to lift the hem of your gown to fully expose your lower body from behind. He briefly lets your hips go to undo his belt and unzip his pants, but the moment he’s loose, he returns to his holding of you, and he wastes no time bucking his hips up to enter your wet pussy from behind.

You groan a bit, feeling his cock push past your walls which, while wet, are still a bit tight. You can’t recall your doctor being this big, but in your dream, it doesn’t matter.

Slowly, Yosuke rocks his hips against you, sliding himself in and out of your squeezing, wet cunt carefully while he adjusts himself. You can do no more than sigh and let out short moans as the man grabs your lower body and rides you. Once your pussy has adjusted to his size again, he wastes no time pumping more and more. Gradually, his pace picks up, and your toes curl into the grass. Your body is thrust forward and backward a bit with the motion, your breasts bouncing loosely behind the thin rose fabric barely concealing them.

More and more, you press your weight against the walls of the nook, letting Yosuke pound into you and feeling nothing but lusty as his head envelops your backside. A few times, you feel a slight discomfort in your abdomen, but don’t wind up thinking anything of it when the rest of the pleasurable sensations in your body are distracting enough to take away from it. You also notice that Yosuke’s hot breaths reek of alcohol, but the feeling of his cock spreading your slick walls open is so pleasurable right now that you just wind up forgetting that fact too.

You whine loudly as you’re fucked raw, eyes shutting and body pressed hard against the wall. As you near your peak and let your doctor prepare to fill you with cum, the scratchy leaves on the bushes stop feeling so rough. Suddenly, they’re quite soft. It’s odd, but you brush it off at first until you start to realize—When did you have something in your mouth?

Your eyes open wide as you come, breath fuming out of your nose as you whine into your gag. When you finally wake up from your dream, all you feel is pleasure, wetness between your legs, a warmth along your backside, and thick cum flowing into your pussy.

You can’t focus on it all right now, still riding out your pleasure as your body is bucked against a few more times before cum stops pumping into you. For just a moment longer, you let out a loud, muffled groan of pleasure into your gag, face pressed hard against the pillow beneath you, and skin hot from all the activity.

Breaths heave in and out of your chest, and as you finally come down from all the lust, it’s replaced by fright as you realize what’s going on.

Milos is deep inside of you, his rough palms gripping your hips from behind, while you’re shoved face-down against the bed. He fucked you in your sleep.

You start to tremble, then. No wonder you smelled alcohol and felt yourself being shoved. Now that your euphoria has subsided, you can smell the liquor on that man quite clearly. It’s a familiar scent that only makes you want to throw up. Not only that, but the pain in your pussy returns now that you’re not asleep enough to avoid feeling it. You grit your teeth at it all. It still doesn’t feel as strong as it once did, but it’s hardly a pleasant sensation.

Your hands aren’t gripping bushy walls, either. Now that you’re fully able to feel the bed you’re on, you notice that they’re clawing tightly at the sheets, which are bundled in your fists.

God, are you stupid. Not only are you beside yourself over having a dream about being fucked by your doctor, but now you just feel betrayed and utterly disgusted at yourself.

Milos, hearing that you’ve awoken, simply laughs from behind you.

“I figured that might wake you, pup,” he teases. “Did you have a nice little wet dream? You started getting slippery in your sleep, wrapping tight around my cock like a needy little girl.”

You’re taken aback when the man whips your body around and straddles your hips, kneeling atop you. His cock tugs out of your pussy for just a moment, and cum dribbles out from between your legs.

Upon being moved, you realize that the man had uncuffed you just to turn you over in the first place. But even though your hands were freed, they aren’t for much longer. Now that you’re awake, the man doesn’t care to have you squirming about, so he pins your wrists down and snaps each cuff back around them, one by one. You can’t really stop Milos with how much stronger he is, but you can certainly tug furiously against your restraints. You’re hoping the loud metal clacking will arouse some kind of attention, but it’s probably a fruitless attempt.

Regardless, Milos grabs your hips firmly and lifts your lower body up, legs just slightly bending and hanging loosely. Moments from his adjusting his own hips, Milos shoves his hard cock back into you again. You’re still wet enough to take him, but his forceful entry only brings more pain to your already sore pussy.

While you’re not completely mobile, you can still thrash about where you couldn’t before, and you find it’s much easier to start making noises and cries of protests. No longer do they sound like cracked whimpers, but more properly like frustrated cries and pleas for help.

Watching you with a fat-lipped smirk, Milos only continues to buck his hips powerfully against you, in short, strong bursts, filling your cunt with his cock. This time, you get no pleasure out of it, only screaming as much as your gag and the lingering effects of all the drugs in you allow.

The man doesn’t seem like he intends to go much longer. Judging by the pace and breadth of his nasty, heavy breaths, he’s been at this a while, or else the alcohol in his system is making it hard for him to keep at it for incredibly long.

You don’t know how long he pumps into you for, but you’re sure he’s only hungry to empty the last of his cum into you after doing this for god knows how long already. This is just his final stretch, and you pray for it to end quickly.

You take his pounding with fists closed so tight that your knuckles are white. All you fear is fear and anger all at once, but you try to hold on and let the man have his way. Your initial desperate cries dull into pained grunts.

it doesn’t feel like long before the man unleashes another load into you without announcing it, grunting powerfully as he does. You groan in disgust and agony at the nasty sensation of his cum spurting into you again, but the sensation eventually slows as there’s nothing more to pump into you. Eventually, Milos stops moving and tries to catch his breath, gruffly growling in between each one. His shoulders and chest rise and fall with heavy weight each time he breathes.

You feel a wave of relief once he stops, and an even bigger wave of it when he finally pulls out and drops your hips onto the bed, where it lands with a loud WHOMP. More cum dribbles out, reminding you just how gross your pussy feels. Unfortunately, you can’t do anything about it unless the man atop you bothers to clean you off. If he wants to keep this area presentable, you’re sure he will.

Milos lets out a grunt as he gets off the bed entirely, and you scowl at him now that the fear from being used has settled just slightly. Bitterly, you watch as he takes items off the cart by your bed to clean himself up first, leaving you in your mess while he does it. Only after he zips himself up and slowly goes through the process of coming down from all the activity with a swipe of sweat from his brow and a giant swig of water from one of the bottles atop the cart’s tray does he bother to wipe you down thoroughly with cleansing wipes and towels that were likely stored beneath the cart. You hate watching him observe his work on your cunt while he does it, his lips cocked in a smirk all the while, but don’t bother whining or making much noise anymore now that he’s out of you.

Every swipe he makes between your legs sends shocks of sore pain in your body, but you grit your teeth, bite hard at the cloth in your mouth, and deal with it. You’ve had worse. So much worse.

When the man takes all his used supplies to discard them in a bin that you think is attached to the cart, you can’t help but notice he’s forgotten to put your panties and gown back in place. Apparently he’d tugged the cloth between your legs to the side and lifted up your hem to your ribs.

You also notice a thick, white pad of some kind that’s held down with a clear tape-like substance over your abdomen, where Lucius had marred you. With everything that had happened since waking, you didn’t really realize it was hurting, but now you find it’s stinging quite a bit even now, even if not as intensely as when it was fresh. You figure that was where the pain you were feeling earlier when Milos had you turned around came from. You recall having felt it in your dream.

You want to vomit thinking about how his raping you in your sleep shone through and intertwined with the image of Yosuke. But...you admit you wish you’d stayed asleep longer. At least you wouldn’t have had to face the hulking doctor. Only yours, in slumber. Blissfully unaware.

Milos eventually bothers to cover you back up once he reapplies everything where it needs to be, even lifting the blanket back over your body as it was prior. And, now that you’re a bit more awake than usual, you notice the needle in your arm is gone, and was likely removed a while ago. In its place is a piece of cotton where the needle had entered, and a roll of gauze wrapped around the arm to hold that piece in place. When your eyes trail up to where the bag was before, it isn’t there anymore.

Milos picks up a clipboard from the tray by your bedside and scribbles something onto it, finally returning to his work like he was supposed to be doing to begin with. You watch him with furrowed brows, but stay quiet and let him do whatever it is that keeps his attention off of you.

You’re frustrated that he’s going along through his work as if nothing happened. All he does is occasionally glance at your vitals and record them, though you catch him side-eyeing you a few times and giving you a coy smirk in turn.

You can’t bring yourself to sleep again, but do lay quietly while the man works. However long you lay there is uncertain, but eventually you’re faced with another intrusion, this time of two bodies. One you recognize by now as Lucius’, but the other trailing behind him is that of a meek woman. Judging by how she hangs her head while ferrying something in her hands, you think it’s a nurse.

“Milos,” the doctor by your bedside is called after firmly. “You’re done here. Come out.”

“Eh?” The gruff doctor answers back with a noise. He leaves the clipboard on the cart and pulls the curtain open, both enough to expose your right side, and enough for him to leave it to go toward Lucius. “Am I in trouble again?”

You scowl at how cheeky he’s saying it. He has no inkling of remorse for what he did, and likely no shame about having done it on camera. Lucius gives a tired sigh. His shadow presses at the bridge of its nose in annoyance.

“Honestly, you’re even worse than I am sometimes,” he mutters. You notice he says this next portion much lower. You find it odd once more, since he’d lowered his voice prior too. But he’s doing it for a reason. “I’m not covering for you again.”

Milos folds his arms and chuckles. “Is that so?”

Lucius then returns to his usual volume, sterner now. You watch his shadow drop its hand, then turn to the nurse behind it. With one shoving motion, he propels her forward, and she stumbles a bit with the movement.

“Go on, go feed the girl. Clean all that up when you’re done.”

The nurse gathers her balance again and comes to your side, now holding a tray of food in one hand while gesturing up with the other.

The sight of another nurse before you is strange. It’s been a while since you’ve had the chance to gawk at one, but you find some comfort in it this time rather than unease. At least the workers are on the same page as you.

You figure she wants you to sit up, and so you do. Unfortunately, the cuffs remain, and they slide against the metal bars of your bed as you move. All you can do is keep the tray in your lap when the nurse places it there, then moves to undo your gag. You find it’s fairly damp with your saliva after what happened just now, so you’re quite relieved for it to be removed.

The well-made food on the tray is, as expected, appetizing. You don’t much feel like eating, but will force yourself to in the case that you won’t get another meal anytime soon. Plus, with all the sleeping you’ve been doing in recovery, food sounds better than saline or anesthetic or whatever the hell they gave you. In all honesty, you can taste whatever the fuck was in that bag, even long after it’s been removed. A nasty flavor that food will thankfully overshadow.

The nurse feeds you, but you’re no stranger to the act. Because it’s not someone for whom you hold contempt, you allow her to, all the while watching the shadows of both men from behind the curtain, and listening intently.

“He’s going to end up having a very stern word with you, you know,” Lucius warns Milos. “Or worse, if he’s in one of his moods. Drinking on the job is the least of your worries.”

“You think he has it in himself to shoot me over a little bit of fun with one of his prisoners?” Milos gives a low chuckle. “He shouldn’t be surprised we get the itch when It’s all we have to do around here that isn’t work. Bah, I’ll handle it.”

“His methods have their ups and downs,” Lucius doesn’t disagree. “But it’s better to risk a little excessive promiscuity than some of the other options he’s considered to win favors. By force or otherwise.”

He shrugs. “Look, I’m only warning you that he’s annoyed about it and that you’ll undoubtedly hear from him later. But I also came here to give you a task to do before you have to face him.”

“Oh?” Milos’ intrigue is piqued. You watch Lucius’ shadow fold its arms.

“One of our little Selects tried to be cute today by attempting to run past the gate,” he mentions. “His leg got caught and crushed before he could. Maybe we’d like you to deal with that. I would, but I have other things he wants me to tend to.”

“Ah?” Milos chuckles. “And why save him? He’s never been one to save the brash prisoners.”

Lucius can’t help but huff in amusement through his nose. “I never said save. Simply, we figure if you’re in one of your moods, a little entertainment might curb that. Give him hell before we discard him.”

“Is he hoping I’ll get it out of my system before I approach him?” Milos teases. “He knows I have no intention to harm him.”

“He figures it’ll make you more agreeable,” Lucius admits casually. “I imagine it’s like tiring a child out so they don’t fuss when they’re told something bad. We both know how you are, Milos. But if you’re so adamant on asking questions, I can always take care of it for you.”

“And why not ask Lilah to do it?”

“As much as she might like having a chance to take out her frustrations without strings, I heard she might be occupied,” Lucius shrugs this off. “Though she’ll have even more work to do once you’re done. Now will you do your job? Or will I get the pleasure of doing it for you? I only offered it out of courtesy to you, old boy. I can just go shoot the prisoner now.”

You look on in disbelief. How horrible…they’re talking so casually about murdering an innocent victim to all this for the crime of wanting to be free. And the fact that it’s basically being confirmed this group is being held at the facility is no less frightening and horrible. Selects likely have no purpose here until they’re given one as prisoners to both the facility and the drugs it pumps into them. Perhaps those people are even more expendable than you, or even the workers who are only alive to serve.

What a terrible fate.

Milos bellows a laugh again. “If you want to have a go at the girl, just say so, my boy! Is that why you’re so adamant about getting me out, mm?”

You scowl hearing this said so jovially, but it seems even Lucius hardly finds interest in it himself.

“Nasty old man,” he criticizes him with a light tone, much to your frustration. How dare he criticize a man for the thought of fucking you when Lucius himself abused you for his own amusement. “No, I think it’s time this one goes back to her dear doctor. We’ve got what we need. And if she’s awake enough to eat and not topple over, then there’s no need to watch her any further.”

He then calls to you without bothering to turn his head. “Hear that, princess? You get to go back to Yosuke and keep being his little toy.”

“I guess it was fun while it lasted,” Milos chimes in with a long draw of breath. “Then I’ll be off.”

Your hands grip at the sheets of the bed as his shadow turns its head toward you. Milos’ sendoff is brief, but nonetheless unsettling.

“Goodbye, my pup. I had fun.”

The nurse by now has finished feeding you, and simply takes the tray away once she sees you can’t much muster eating another bite. You’ve left a few small piles of each portion of food, but have eaten enough to feel satiated. Having a bit of nourishment and some water hasn’t fully alleviated the grogginess in your head, but you do feel much better. Just a little tired, if anything.

Once Milos has left the room, Lucius walks forward and peels back the curtain entirely, opening you up to the rest of the recovery area. Seeing the other empty beds makes you wonder if there was once a time where they were all full. You shudder to think of it.

The nurse has completely cleaned up most everything and prepares to take the cart away, but Lucius briefly picks up a key for the handcuffs from one of its lower rungs, and the clipboard from before. He eyes it, and writes a few final notes on it before leaving it back on the tray and letting the nurse leave, telling her to deliver the work to The Overseer. You wish she wouldn’t leave you with Lucius, but say nothing and simply watch her whitely clothed frame disappear behind the double doors.

“You feel better, don’t you?” the man questions as he watches you sit quietly. You simply nod, but this annoys him more. “Use your words now that you can.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter. “Sore.”

Lucius then smiles to himself a bit. “You must excuse Milos. He’s always been a bit of an out-there old man. A byproduct of a bad upbringing. We have to motivate him a little differently sometimes. He comes and goes as he pleases, but even he has some strong principles of his own and won’t cross us in heavy ways. But something like this? He sees no issue in defying my superior’s word now and then. It’s simply the man’s way.”

Your eyes shift to the side, though you can’t see Lucius’ face now since you’ve hung your head a bit.

“What now?”

“You go back to your usual routine, of course,” Lucius scoffs. “Is that not obvious? But I need you on your feet for that.”

“My legs feel pretty weak,” you make it clear. “What if I can’t walk? I haven’t for days.”

“Then I’ll drag you,” you’re told bluntly. Lucius then moves his hands down, key in hand, to undo your right cuff. “Like that compares to how long you were chained to a bed in the dark, princess. Regardless, you’re not staying here.”

You’d like to slap him, but know it’s a terrible idea. You simply sit there and return the free hand to your lap while Lucius walks to the other side to undo your other cuff.

“I don’t want to stay here anyway,” you grumble. “Your friend is an asshole. It’s just that with how much he probably went at it, I don’t know if I should be walking yet.”

Your left cuff snaps open. “Don’t get fussy, princess, or I’ll break your legs and really show you what it’s like not to be able to walk. Come quietly. I don’t feel like going through the effort of lugging your body around or fetching a gurney. You’re a little cunt, but you are still a big enough girl to stand on your own. So get up.”

You don’t really argue, and swing your legs over the side of the bed now that you are able. Moving like this after a few days of being immobile would be freeing, if not for the circumstances.

“No cuff?” You pester the man bitterly while attempting to stand. “Do you really trust me not to run?”

Lucius smiles coldly. “After what you heard, do you really want to try? Go ahead if you like. I’ll even give you a nice, long head start.”

You scowl and look down, but Lucius doesn’t let up. He cocks his head to the side and bends closer to your level, by your face. “No? Don’t want to?”

When you turn your head away, he gives your cheek a light slap, but not firm enough to hurt. It puts you off nonetheless, and you flinch before he even makes contact.

“Come on, princess. Don’t waste my damn time.” Lucius then grabs your wrist and starts to tug at you, making your legs move forward to keep up with his pace. With you having been in bed all these days, and fucked hard a few times, you feel your knees and ankles buckling a little bit with some steps. Regardless, you manage to keep afoot, if only with some extra effort.

Getting out of here and having some activity beyond just laying there and being used is admittedly helping to refresh you. And really, you’ll be all too happy to get away from this.

Yosuke said it would be a hard time for you, and you knew it too. You got through it, though, didn’t you? Maybe the pain in your stomach from where Lucius dug Micah’s knife into you, and the soreness in your body from all the abuse Milos dished out are some nasty things to leave here with, but you don’t have to worry about that now. Yosuke will probably baby you, sure, but you’ll take it over being beaten or choked. You’re honestly shocked you were able to put up with that, really.

In the moment, you were frightened. You couldn’t help it. But, looking back, this wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It was easier, wasn’t it?

Well, “easier” as in less intense than it had been your first time. You knew what to expect this time, simply. Not like it means you’re cured of the insanity of this place. What Milos did, and what others will continue to do to you, will haunt you for the rest of your life, you think. How miserable.

Eventually, Lucius stops dragging you by the wrist and instead steps behind you to usher you forward, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing you onward. You’re forced to walk rather quickly, but it’s not as difficult now that you have the rhythm of it.

You pass the same halls you once had when you last left the recovery room, and again eye all the same areas. When you get to the crossroads again, your heart beats faster. The last time you were here was in a dream, being hunted by The Overseer and his lackey. Though it wasn’t real, thinking about how Lucius invited you to try running, and having that juxtaposed with the memory of that dream, is simply disturbing.

Your eyes trail the sign for the basement again, but there’s nothing you can see near it that’s any different than last time. You wind up holding a heavy breath in your chest as tight as you can until you’ve passed the crossroads entirely.

You half-expect to see Yosuke again upon turning the corner into the usual hallway, but he’s not there, and you’re left to assume Lucius is going to stop at your bedroom instead. While you in no way like this idea, you suppose there’s nothing to be done about it.

Upon reaching the first room with your number on it, you stop, but are taken back when Lucius shoves you forward a bit and urges you to keep going. You wind up turning your body slightly toward him and looking up at the man with uncertainty.

“But-“

“I said keep going, girl,” you’re commanded again with a frown. Lucius once more takes hold of the back of your neck and forcibly guides you forward. You pass Lav’s rooms, then some of Eight’s. Just as you’re looking up long enough to see “8D” and pass it, you’re yanked back by the hair and told to stop.

Your heart beats wildly seeing that this is where you’re stopping, and you turn to Lucius with worry in your eyes.

“You said I was going back to Yosuke,” you try reminding him. Lucius gives a calm smile.

“You will. Soon. But I think it’s time you had a chat with a certain someone.”

“W-what?!” You exclaim worriedly. “But-“

Lucius then grabs your hair again and holds your head up, leaning forward until his lips reach your ear. What he says next is quiet, but enough for him not to have to whisper it.

“Princess, did you really think I was going to forgive you for eavesdropping all those times? Did you think my interrogation and his placing you with Milos was enough punishment?”

You grit your teeth when his tight grip on your locks starts to hurt with how hard he’s yanking your head up. Your hands reach up to his, but all he does is shake your head back and forth a bit which only hurts you more.

“Curious little girls deserve to be punished,” Lucius chuckles in your ear. “So I’ll be leaving you in this one’s care until it’s time for Yosuke to receive you. The man is still at work, so there’s a little more time to kill before he can come rescue his pretty little princess.”

Lucius then pulls you toward the door enough for it to finally open, letting your hair go in the process. Once you’re before it, he gets behind you and kicks you forward, causing you to stumble forward. Though you attempt to keep your balance, you end up falling forward onto the dark floor of the room. You manage to save your face from the impact by instinctively placing your hands before you, but the fall still hurts your knees, outer calves, and the wound on your abdomen.

“Lilah. I brought you a toy, like I promised,” Lucius calls out. Eyes widening, you pick your head up, hands pressed to the floor, and gaze upon the titular woman leaning back against the counter across from the door. Her coat is off, leaving the thin-bodied doctor with her lavender sleeveless shirt and her usual skirt and boots. Her purple hair, you notice, is still pinned up.

Lilah’s icy, darkly-lined eyes are not on you, rather focused on the man behind you now. She frowns, dark painted lips curving downward slightly.

“How long do I have?” She questions him.

“Long enough,” Is Lucius’ casual reply. “Boss says you need to deal with this for being a little shit to Vanessa again. But make it quick.”

Lilah does not budge. “You said this was so I could talk to her, not to do your dirty work because you’re too busy to.”

“And I also said I wouldn’t give you your real toy if you acted out,” Lucius doesn’t miss a beat. “Take your grievances out on her if you so prefer, but you’re here for a reason. You owe us something after your last tantrum got this one’s ears burning. Though, we both have a mutual interest in this, don’t we?”

“One last task?” Lilah scoffs unhappily. “Are you bribing me for what was already promised? I’ve been patient enough. But don’t assume this is a punishment. You’re doing me a favor bringing this runt here when I’ve been meaning to get after her. But really, why the fuck should I waste my time otherwise? She’s weaker than some of my usuals, even. This isn’t going to be any goddamn fun if she passes out or cries or something.”

Lucius wags a finger and tuts. “Naughty little girl. You’re whining again. Shall I take her back, then?”

Lilah slams a palm against the counter behind her and points at Lucius angrily. “Don’t fucking start with me, Marcellus! You’re wasting all our time talking to me like that!”

This only entertains the man behind you, who changes his rules. “Well, just for that, I also expect you to bring her to Yosuke since you’re the one who’s going to break her.”

He then chuckles. “Do tell me how angry he gets. I’ll be missing it, unfortunately. Boss wants me for something.”

After her brief outburst, Lilah sighs and leans back against the counter again, having pushed away from it slightly to yell at Lucius. “Geez, you’re an asshole sometimes, you know?”

“And you’re a little brat.” Lucius can’t help himself. “Now don’t go breaking the girl. Only he or I get to hold that against her. But as I see it, Milos already got his fill. I’d rather he not have more so suddenly. Not without reason, anyway. Besides, this one’s been mouthy, but good enough at following orders to some degree after all that we put her through. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

“Oh, and I’ll be just ecstatic to hear about it,” Lilah rolls her eyes. “Lucius, drop dead so I can cut you open. I wanna know what the fuck makes you tick.”

Lucius simply chuckles. “The day that happens will be the day he finally breaks. You wanna do that to him?”

“You wanna make me?”

When Lucius doesn’t budge, Lilah then heaves an annoyed sigh. “Fine. Orders received, you damn boytoy. Leave already, why don’t you?”

Lilah’s icy eyes trail down to you on the floor. “Us girls need to have a chat.”

Chapter 84: Visit Thirty Four - Bitch

Your heart’s pumping quickly, body frozen as you’re left in the charge of a woman you know nothing about beyond the bitter mark she’s left on others. She hasn’t said a word since Lucius left, and you certainly have no desire to look up at her right now in fear of what she might do.

Pain is always to be expected in this facility now, especially given what you’ve been involved with. Pain is something you’ve anticipated and, while fearfully responding to it, you still push through it out of necessity.

But you weren’t expecting to see this woman so suddenly, nor do you have any idea what to anticipate now other than the simple label of “abuse”. How far will she go?

Lucius told Lilah not to do anything too bad to you, so perhaps that’s your only saving grace here. But he said nothing of cuts, bruises, beatings, or anything else. Will she fuck you, or will she make you fuck her? Will she just punch you over and over in anger?

“Geez, is this what the others have to put up with from you?” Her bitter voice rings out, shaking you to attention. You peep up at her only to be shot back by icy eyes. Lilah’s black lips curve down into a frown. “Is that all you do? Shake and cry on the floor? Little runt. But don’t get ahead of yourself. I still have something to go over before I start trying to make something out of having you here. Besides, if you’re anything like those other frightened little shits, I know just how boring you’ll really be. I’m not gonna be singing any praises here.”

You aren’t sure whether to say anything, but are also unsure what to anyway. All you do is stay motionless as Lilah’s footsteps slowly resonate against the hard dark floor. She makes her way slowly toward you, likely while observing you sharply.

God, you’re still groggy from the shot. Maybe that will help alleviate your perception of the pain to come. One can only hope.

As Lilah stands quietly by your head and towers above you, it’s unclear just what she wants. She’s saying nothing, doing nothing. And somehow, that scares you.

Uncertain as to what she wants, but assuming she expects you to move first, you try to push off the floor. However, this apparently upsets the woman above you who raises her boot and stomps it hard on your back, forcing you back down with a pained grunt.

“I didn’t say you could get up, runt,” she spits. “Stay down, where you belong. You can answer all my questions while kissing the ground for all I care.”

Your teeth grit at the sudden impact, head hanging as you face the floor again.

“I don’t know what you-“

Before you can finish, Lilah retracts her boot and instead brings it to the back of your head, where she pushes down hard and forces your face into the floor. Your fingers curl hard into your palm, knuckles white.

“I didn’t say you could speak, either” She bellows firmly. “Let me make this clear, runt. You’re new to being with me, so I’ll go over the rules the way I have to with everyone who still needs to learn about me. You don’t speak unless spoken to. You don’t look at me unless I tell you to. You don’t cry or scream or make any stupid little noises unless I say I want to hear them. If I tell you to do something, you do it. No faces. No words. You obey. Understand?”

She digs her heel into your scalp until you try letting out a muffled “yes” in response.

Lilah scoffs. “I’ve heard from Micah what a mouthy cunt you are. He likes a challenge. Gives him a reason to be cheeky and aggressive with the little girls he likes to fuck. But I don’t find that mouthy shit quite as cute on you. I won’t be giving you praise for following orders, but I will be hard on you if you don’t.”

Her boot finally retracts from your head and returns to your back. You presume she only let your skull go just so you could lift up your head enough to answer her without the floor muffling the words coming from your lips.

“Tell me what the fuck you were doing in that man’s room,” you’re ordered with displeasure. “And why the fuck you think you’re so important.”

“I didn’t choose to be taken,” you try to explain with a low voice.

Briefly, you feel Lilah’s boot lift up and instead feel the harsh impact of her shoe against the side of your head as she kicks you.

“I didn’t ask for commentary, runt,” Lilah sharply reminds you before again pressing against your back. She puts her manicured hands on her hips in waiting. “Answer my fucking question.”

Your head starts spinning a moment after the impact, but you manage to gather your wits enough to parse through your memories of being confined.

“He said it was because my doctor acted out,” you recount. “And because I was talking more openly about what I wasn’t supposed to. About the girl who died.”

“There’s a lot of girls who die,” Lilah reminds you. “I see a lot of dead bodies and shuffle through a lot of names. Be specific.”

“Jay,” you huff. “The one I saw Lucius shoot in the hall.”

Lilah pouts. “Jesus, is that really it? No, there’s more to that. Boss doesn’t do things without reason. Not usually. He’s hiding something from me.”

You flinch when you hear her growl in annoyance. “Fuckers don’t talk to me like they used to. You wanna know something, runt? I’ve been at this place for a while. I used to be one of their insiders. Now I’m just like that old witch, Vanessa. An outsider. Lately I’ve been getting shut out for no goddamn reason. I’m getting all washed up like her and I’m not even in my thirties.”

She steps off you and instead steps to your side. From the corner of your eye, you see her dark boots as she stands there. You can’t see the woman’s face, but do catch a glimpse of her black nails as her hands stay firm on her hips.

“Wanna know how much that pisses me off?” She baits you, but you don’t really respond. You don’t even really have a chance to before you watch her foot peel back and immediately rush forward to kick you hard in the side. You let out a pained breath of air in response, but don’t dare to move your hands there to try clutching at the area, afraid of angering the woman further. You’ve done absolutely nothing and she’s already antagonizing you needlessly.

“What happened in there, runt? Explain everything to me. Even the shit he probably doesn’t want you talking about.”

“But…” You shut up real quick before finishing your protest once Lilah kicks you again.

“If he wants to keep secrets, he should expect that I’ll dig for them once I know he’s hiding something.” Lilah spits. “I don’t care if you get in trouble for telling me. I want to know. I’m superior to you right now, and my legs are way stronger than they look. So unless you want me damaging your insides with even harder blows, give me what I want. Now.”

“I-I,” you try to catch your breath. “I was chained to a bed and I heard them talking sometimes about their work. But I was asleep a lot of the time, or else they left me alone.”

“That’s bullshit.” Lilah kicks you hard again. By now your ribs and your waist are stinging and hot with all the repeated hits. You’re already so sore, and holding in your grunts and cries is growing difficult. “You’d be dead by now if you were asleep the entire time. All those drugs aren’t good for you in constant, heavy doses. It’s why we usually give you little shits small ones.”

She digs the tip of her boot under your stomach and shoves up at it hard, motioning for you to turn over. You merely roll to the side and on your back to unpleasantly face the woman towering above you with brows scrunched up and icy eyes sharply watching you.

“One of those assholes probably had to babysit you,” she supposes. “If not one, then the other. So what happened?”

“L-Lucius,” you grunt out once Lilah presses her heel against your stomach. It’s just barely missing the wound Lucius left on your abdomen earlier, and your eyes can’t help but gravitate toward your stomach worriedly. “He watched me most of the time.”

Lilah looks away a moment in thought, but immediately digs her heel against you further and turns back to you. “What did he say?”

You wince. “Nothing about you!”

This makes Lilah frown and press even harder against you. “Not what I asked, runt. I don’t give a shit what those men say about me. I know the kinds of talks they’ve had behind my back about everything ranging from my attitude to my pussy. Dick may be good, but most men are shit.”

Somehow, you don’t fully disagree with the vile woman’s sentiment after the experiences you’ve had. But that hardly makes a difference here.

“He talked about the workers,” you admit with a grunt, completely unsure what it is she wants to hear. “About the previous Eleven and Richard Lafayette, and about my doctor. A-and your boss—he showed me video feeds of my friends’ interviews after their shot.”

Lilah scowls. “What else?”

“I saw Monica who talked to me more about pregnancy here,” you recount quickly. “And I saw Gale who found out I was in the room and tried to talk with me. I learned about Mnemosyne. I learned about some of the nurses and heard about the one who died. And…”

You shut your eyes. “Lucius hurt me. He killed a worker in front of me after giving him Red Valentine. And later on he kept using me just for his amusement. I don’t know what else you want to hear!”

Lilah remains unamused. Strangely, she doesn’t comment on a lot of this. “Shut up and stop babbling. Now I know for sure there’s more than that. I can put two and two together, runt. I’ve heard your body is really resilient against the anesthetic, first of all. But you also were probably not on it all the time for the reason I said earlier. So if you heard anything special, I want you to tell me.”

She digs even deeper against your abdomen, enough for it to start feeling like she’s about to pop something inside you. All you can do is grit your teeth. You want to reach up and try pulling her off, but know she’ll only beat on you again if you do.

“I heard your boss and Lucius talking to each other like normal people,” you strain to admit. “I heard them talk about Milos and you, and about a boy they recently kidnapped.”

This makes Lilah raise a brow. “Normal people?”

“I can’t remember the specifics. They just…talked. Familiarly.” You turn your head away, “A-and your boss talked to me a few times. He kept telling me I was worthless, but then he let me live after threatening to kill me. After Gale went behind their back to talk to me. I don’t know why, but he even let me hold his gun. Just once.”

Lilah’s temporary respite from holding a furious profile ends, and she immediately scowls again.

“What the fuck makes you so goddamn special, huh?” She barks. “Why do you think you get to keep acting like a little spoiled princess, huh?”

“I don’t-“

Before you can respond, Lilah lifts her leg up and stomps hard against your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. Your vision flashes white a moment in the shock, your mouth wide open with no words of breath being uttered or drawn.

“Obviously you do think you’re special,” Lilah calls out angrily, letting her hands drop from her waist and instead balling them into fists. Again, she stomps on your stomach and leaves you breathless. “I’m so sick of hearing about you. I’m sick of seeing you, even though I barely do. You must think you’re real cute getting away with talking about shit you shouldn’t, and seeing things you shouldn’t. You’re garbage who keeps forgetting her place.”

Despite trying hard not to move on your own, you can’t help but roll on your side once Lilah’s leg retracts, and you clutch your stomach tight while attempting to suck in weak breaths. You can hardly bring yourself to speak now beyond letting out a weary “I…”.

“You what?” Lilah kicks you hard again, though your arms are what take the hit instead. The impact makes you grunt out and grit your teeth more. “You didn’t choose to be the center of attention? You didn’t want any of this to happen? Well guess what, runt, nobody chooses who the fuck they’re going to be. You think being here was my first choice?”

She whomps you hard again, making you cry out in pain.

“I wouldn’t have even come here if it weren’t for Milos. I thought it was gonna be a short job. Not years and years of repetitive work!”

She kicks you again.

“I could have been out of this bullshit family if I hadn’t come back.”

Again.

“I could have been having the time of my life with anyone else in the world.”

And again.

“I’m sick of this shit!”

And again.

When she finally stops, you’re left drooling involuntarily on the floor while sucking in any breath you can. Your stomach and your forearms are stinging with so much pain that you’re dizzy. With the adrenaline kicking in, your vision feels sharp and alert, but you’re unable to move or react to Lilah’s abuse otherwise. Your hands are trembling.

Lilah pants as she lets her fury settle just a little bit and recovers from kicking the shit out of you. Her hands remain clenched, though she merely towers above your writhing body.

“The only reason I stay, other than because I have to,” she mutters, “is because the man responsible for ruining my life by trying to force me to do whatever he wanted me to is dead thanks to my boss. Back then, he treated me like an equal. Back then, I idolized him. He was like a real father to me. But we both changed. Now he’s just another stupid old man making rules and keeping secrets. And now I have to keep buddying up with Milos because he’s one of the few people in this fucking place who understands and is willing to put up with me. But even he gets annoying sometimes. I once found him exciting. Now I find him a nuisance.”

She unfurls her hands and tips her head back to sigh heavily.

“Micah, Gale, and Sven are probably the only ones closest to my age that I can relate to, but Sven’s a pussy, and Gale’s not into anything I am. They’re a fine enough person, but they’re a shrink, and I’ve seen enough of those fuckers throughout my life, enough not to trust their so-called professional opinion. Micah’s closest to my speed, but he’s sometimes too damn busy with his job or chasing tail to talk. We wind up bothering one another on the job. It’s annoying being cooped up in a freezer and writing shitty reports when one of you fucks dies. But it’s even more annoying trying to concentrate on my work and being interrupted.”

You find it a tad selfish of her to complain about being bugged when she did precisely the same to Micah, according to him.

Lilah tilts her head. “And don’t get me wrong—I like dead bodies. I know them well. I studied all that shit before I got pulled out of school to come here. But you frail little nothings used to give me so much work that I had no choice but to stay in one place all the time. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to walk around like this on a day-by-day basis. You know that?”

You can hardly think with how much pain is washing over you right now. All you can muster is trying desperately to breathe while clutching your stomach. The wound Lucius left on you is luckily still untouched, but just barely.

Lilah looks down at you and sneers.

“God, you survived all that shit with Lucius and Milos, and yet you can’t even handle a few hard kicks?” She pecks at you harshly. “You’re even more fucking pathetic than I thought. I figured after all that you went through, you might at least be more resilient than that. Goddamn runt. You’re not worth my time. But we’re stuck here for a while, so I might as well make of it what I can.“

She bends down and grabs you by the wrist firmly, then proceeds to yank you up as hard as she can.

“Sit up. Now.”

While still holding your stomach with one hand, you attempt to rise from the floor. Your body’s still so heavy, it feels, and so this task proves arduous. Every pressing of your knees against the floor, every push of your limbs, only stirs the pain in your abdomen and makes you wince and suck in air through your teeth.

Lilah shoves your arm down and lets it drop from her grip once you’ve managed to follow her order. “Stay there, and don’t fucking move. Don’t make a single sound, or I’ll skip right back to beating you senseless until our time is up. Got it?”

You feel fury in your heart, but only nod while keeping your head down. Lilah simply sneers in disgust and walks off a moment. You look up only to see her procure a few things from the cabinets, though they’re obscured by her body. She leaves them on the counter temporarily, though, and instead brings her hands up to her hair to unpin it. Swiftly, her purple locks fall down to just at her mid back, silky and soft-looking in the light of the room.

You watch uneasily as she begins to slip her top off, revealing a strapless dark bra that’s almost as deep a color as her hair, but looks more black than anything. Her slim figure is partly revealed as she drops her lavender sleeveless shirt down to the black floor, then starts to shimmy out of her long skirt. She lets it fall to her feet, and all you can see is her backside, round and pert and lined with dark panties that just barely cover her. Its thin straps hang at the curve of her pale hips, but there’s much more ass than there is underwear, really.

Lilah’s boots are the last thing she slips out of, but once she’s completely undressed, she kicks all her crumpled clothing aside and fixes her hair, smoothing it down and keeping it behind her. Your eyes catch sight of a black vine tattoo along her left side, as well as part of a tattoo of a red rose and its green stem extending down her left upper arm.

The slow way Lilah moves as she preps herself looks almost sensual, but you know looks can be deceiving. Her beauty is only a surface distraction that you’re sure people could easily fall for without realizing what they’re getting into. The woman’s not exactly some hidden viper, though. She presents herself precisely as she wants to.

She’s not hiding anything.

She’s beautiful, but knowing that there’s danger behind this woman, you hardly find yourself interested. Disturbed, if anything. Angry, especially. But Lilah’s not the kind of person you can afford to talk back to. If the pain in your abdomen and side are only the start of this, you fear what else she might pull.

You don’t like that this encounter is only going to get Yosuke riled up, either. All those kicks on your belly are definitely going to leave bruises. This is truly a cherry on top of Lucius’ inflicted injury and Milos’ abuse.

Perhaps the only good thing is that when it’s all over, you’ll get soft coddling and some rest afterward. You don’t want to think about accepting Yosuke’s care, of letting his hands gently touch you while you’re seething in frustration. It again starts to bug you how willingly you took him in your dream. Even now, you still have it in you to be such a goddamn whore for a man like him. Why…?

“Hey!”

Your head perks up quickly as Lilah’s loud voice rings in your ears. Your eyes remain wide at attention, but immediately catch sight of something in the woman’s manicured hands. Something long with a thick leather base and a thin stem. Something black with a pointed, thick rubber triangular tip. Something that looks almost like the end of a devil’s tail.

Something wicked.

You fear what she might do with it, but say and do nothing without an order. You do, however, glimpse Lilah’s body next, noticing her dark lingerie from a new angle, and how it has just enough coverage from the front to classify as underwear. You’re also more clearly able to see the viney leaves on her side, and a slim, black garter wrapped snugly around her left thigh. There is otherwise nothing more to her body than pale, naked flesh. In the light above, it practically glows.

“Your turn, runt,” she spits. “Undress.”

You pause a moment, but the woman points her leathery stick at you from afar and scowls.

“I gave you an order. Do you want to be trouble?”

You shake your head and immediately try to move your hands. Seeing you’re obeying her, Lilah then brings her toy to her other hand and taps the devil-tail end of it in her palm. Even with how lightly she’s moving her wrist to do so, the thick leather still makes an audible smacking noise against her flesh.

“A crop like this is a good tool for disciplining shit stains like you. People used to train animals with them. That’s exactly what you are.”

Your hands shake, but move to the white hem of your gown to start tugging it over your head. Now that you’ve had such a brief reprieve from all the beating, your body has had time to drink in all the pain from Lilah’s kicks. Moving your arms up only makes you grit your teeth as the welling, burning hurt in your stomach and forearms is aroused by the muscle movement. Nonetheless, you do your task and leave your white gown on the floor.

Sitting nakedly before the woman feels odd, but you don’t have the time or headspace to question it. What’s more, you end up being demanded to strip fully, so you have to deal with even more sore stings as you try to maneuver your legs and arms to sufficiently strip away the last bit of fabric on your lower body.

Lilah only watches with hawkish eyes, the thing in her hands now pointed at the floor as her arm hangs by her side, following the downward direction of her viney tattoo. The other hand stays perched on her hip.

“Stand,” she commands. “And move faster, runt. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some scared little bitch try to stall what she knows is coming to her. You best get used to anticipating pain while you’re here.”

Lilah then smirks to herself. “I guess the fun part is that you never know just when it’ll come. After living such a humdrum life with doctors who don’t do more than smack you upside the head a little, this should excite you.”

You grit your teeth, but do as told and try to stand up. No small feat for you now, but one that’s doable. Once up, one hand holds fast onto your stomach, arm almost cradling you instinctively, while the other hangs limp at your side.

Lilah immediately frowns and raises a brow at your frail posture, and you watch her pale feet step forward and closer to you. She moves slowly, as if teasing at your fear of her arrival.

Promptly, the woman smacks the leather tip of her crop along your red, welted forearm and makes you gasp in pain.

“Arm down, runt,” she commands harshly, “Hands at your side.”

You drop both hands, and shudder a bit at the cool leather tip of her crop as it next runs slowly down your stomach, With both her eyes and her toy, Lilah observes the harsh red welts on your flesh that no doubt will bruise black later. Though all she’s doing is running her toy along the area, it somehow stings.

You hadn’t wanted to look down at your body whatsoever, but suppose it was bound to be done with how much you have had to keep your head down. Looking at yourself now is shocking, to say the least. There’s so much red skin already…

It isn’t long before Lilah runs her little toy along the bandage covering the welt Lucius made. She taps at it.

“What is this?”

“Lucius’ work,” you answer her quietly, keeping your eyes averted.

“Okay, stupid,” Lilah spits and smacks one of the bruises above the bandage hard with her crop, making a loud THWACK noise and consequently bringing another wave of hurt with it. You try not to move or make a noise, but grimace and ball up your hands into fists in response and try to hold in expressing just how much it hurts.

You hadn’t expected the small tip of such a delicate-looking device to hurt as much as it does now. You realize quickly after your first hit, though, that this thing is as deceptive as its owner. The thickness of the small head more than makes up for its size. You can’t underestimate this bitch who probably knows well just what will hurt you the most.

“Let me try that again,” Lilah frowns and again plants the crop’s pointed tip flat against your bandage. “What is this, and why do you have it? What did that sadist asshole do?”

Your teeth chatter just a little, a response to all this that confuses and worries you. Are you scared, or is your body just going haywire because of all the pain?

“H-he was trying to dig for information,” you explain shakily. “He threatened to stab me with Micah’s knife if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. He ended up digging a lot into my skin.”

Lilah scoffs. “Of course. I figured he’d be using that knife one way or another. Micah’s been grumbling about it since he got it taken away.”

She then looks back at you and scrunches up her brows. “Take that off too.”

Your eyes widen, and look up at her worriedly. “What?”

Lilah immediately slaps you hard for just uttering one word, getting a pained cry out of you.

“I told you not to talk back!” She hisses. Again, she strikes you with her hand. “And I said don’t fucking make noise. Do you even fucking listen, little shit?”

Not only are your stomach, sides, and arms hurting, but now you get to add “cheek” to the list. What a vile goddamn woman.

“I said take off that fucking bandage, runt. I know I didn’t hit those ears, so they should still be working. Or are you so stupid you need help with even the most basic of tasks?”

Biting your tongue, you move your hands down to peel away the sticky “tape” on your abdomen and toss away both it and the rest of the dressing. Your wound is somehow no longer bleeding, but the crater in your flesh is agitated and extremely red. Likely whatever Lilah did to your stomach nearest to the thing was enough to affect it indirectly. Maybe in all the pain of her kicking the shit out of you, that had slipped you by.

Lilah eyes the wound with a sneer. “Yikes, did you piss the guy off?”

“I always do,” you mutter, taking this as an indication to answer her. “He’s been bitter since I pissed off your boss, and now he’s even angrier that I’m still here.”

“Yeah? Well so am I,” Lilah narrows her eyes. She does not move beyond bringing her free hand up and sticking two of her fingers hard against the center of the wound, sending waves of stinging pain up and down your body. You can’t help but let out a loud groan, though your abusive visitor strangely doesn’t lash out at you for it. Her hawkish eyes continue to watch you writhe where you stand, her head tilting curiously at your reaction.

“What was that, a fucking moan?” She criticizes you harshly. “I can’t tell if that was painful or something else. Does any old hole in your nasty body that can be made turn you on? Are you fucked in the head or something?”

“Take them out!” You beg, breaking your commitment to keeping as quiet as possible. It hurts too much. This is just cruel.

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you panic and try to pull the woman’s hand away, gripping her forearm with both your hands and trying to tug her fingers off of your wound. Despite her size, Lilah is indeed much stronger than you, and so her arm stays in place.

Your outburst earns you a hard thwack of the crop tip against your thigh, and again you can’t help but let out a pained cry. Still, you don’t wind up letting go of the woman, which only upsets her more. She promptly yanks her hand away, lifts her leg up, and kicks you back as hard as she can.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” She harshly retaliates.

It’s enough to send you stumbling backward and onto the floor, though you stumble back far enough that you almost hit the back of your head against one of the nearby low hanging black tables left off to the side of the room somewhere. You wind up landing just before it.

While you’re still gathering your wits, Lilah steps closer to where you fell and carefully but swiftly plants a hard hit of the crop on your upper arm. “I can touch and drag and hit you wherever the hell I like, but you don’t ev-er get to touch me. Got it, runt?!”

You can’t take it. Angrily, you yell back at her. “Why are you like this?!”

You expect her to hit you again, but Lilah instead kicks your chest back and pins you hard against the side of the low table. Her slamming your body back against its edge sends more waves of pain along your back, where the skin is being dug into.

“I’m angry, stupid,” she spits. “I’m bitter about a lot of things, and especially about having to watch over you pieces of shit and playing doctor. I only studied to be one to get away from my family. At best I figured I’d be working a boring job and getting paid well enough for it to enjoy my hobbies. I didn’t think it would land me here. But I was hard pressed to turn down Milos back then. Maybe I was just feeling a little too nostalgic for my own good.”

She then raises her foot higher and shoves it against your face. Even if it’s clean, it’s a despicable act that leaves you trying to get out from under her. She hardly allows it.

“You think I get you naked and torture you because I’m gonna make up for it with sex, right?” She cruelly laughs. “Is that why you’re moaning, little cunt? Pretending you’re such a good girl because you wanna get railed? Not like you’re even that good when all you’ve done so far is disobey me. Talking back, being a little bitch, crying in agony as if I’m gonna stop hurting you.

“No, I rarely take rides on you assholes unless I’m that goddamn down. Tired, frustrated, bored. Because how can I expect any of you people to know shit about getting fucked or fucking me the way I want when you can’t even remember your names? If I want a dick stuffed inside me so bad I’ll go fuck one of the assholes who works here. If I wanna dick someone down myself I’ll just toss on a little strap-on and have a rough ride. But even that, I think, is something gratifying enough to make some of you actually like it, so I don’t like doing it for you fuckers unless I know it’s going to hurt you.”

She then lowers her foot and stomps between your legs, shoving the pad and heel of her foot hard against your vulva. ”And even if maybe I like to toy around with your junk, I don’t get you naked to make you feel good. I do it just because I like to see my work. I like seeing all those cuts and bruises all over your bodies. I see tons of you naked when you’re on the slab. It’s something I’m used to.”

When you try to shut your legs instinctively, Lilah scowls and leans over to smack your thigh again. She remains ever embittered watching your pained face beneath her.

“This stuff doesn’t always have to lead to sex, but the rougher guys here are such horn dogs they can’t help but pair the two. And here’s the thing, little bitch—You don’t deserve to feel good, but I do. I have the power to feel good here, and I have no reason not to take it as far as I like without the usual rules that apply to this kind of thing outside, or without expressly being told not to. Whatever the case, it’s my right to feel good here. And this? This shit makes me feel good.”

Finally, she steps off of you and instead grabs you by the hair. You grit your teeth as she tugs you up and forces you across the table you were just shoved against. Without giving you a chance to breathe, Lilah straddles your body and presses her weight onto your legs. Still with the crop in her hand, she eyes your pitiful state as you lay along the table. You watch her fearfully, much to her amusement.

“You think I’m bullshitting you?” She questions. “You’re still asking yourself now if I’m gonna toy with your cunt, or be like some little dommy girl who wants to sit on your face and make you lap her up. That’s real pathetic. Nothing about your body is good enough for me.”

You remain with arms up, afraid to move. The weight of the woman atop you isn’t immensely unbearable, but she’s pressing hard against parts of your lower body that are in a lot of pain from all the kicking and beating earlier. You have to strain to take even this weight.

Lilah clutches at your jaw with her free hand, then leans down and gets her face close to yours. From here, you can smell something like black licorice on her body. The scent is strong and rich, piercing through your nose with how close she is.

You gasp a bit when she starts to run the cold leather tip of her crop down your side, then your thigh.

“I am getting a little riled up watching you freak the fuck out over a few small hits, though,” She admits with a subtle smirk. “All those pretty bruises on a frail little nothing like you? They look damn good. And they’ll look even better when they turn black and purple.”

You wince when she stops upon a specific spot on your thigh and smacks it with the crop.

“You know I could do some serious damage just by hitting you wrong, right?” She teases. “Your bodies are beyond frail, right down to your skin itself. I could cause a lot of permanent problems if I’m not careful.”

She smacks you again, making your fists clench hard. Again, you try not to make a sound, but this only delights the woman atop you as her icy eyes observe this struggle.

“I’ve gotten mad enough to do so much worse,” she practically boasts, leaning into your ear. “You’re a nosy little bitch as it is. You might as well know—You remember that little weakling Number of mine? That gray kid with the stupid glasses? I had a girl before him. I barely remember her name or number because I really didn’t give much of a fuck about her. But she was a rough one. She could take a hit.”

She trails her crop up your arm and again suddenly smacks you, this time on your forearm. The quick impact again makes you react, and Lilah frowns.

“Not like you.” She spits. “You and most of your friends can hardly stand up on your own two feet. Maybe that one blonde girl of Sven’s is at least a little less shitty. But I don’t get to see her often with how greedy that playboy is. All he needs is a fat pair of tits and a warm pussy to feel satisfied. No, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone who could hold their own. And that other girl of mine? She didn’t make a single noise. She took it all.”

Lilah matches the red welt on your forearm with a second one on your other. You wind up letting a grunt of pain slip out this time, earning you another hard hit in the same place. Lilah scrunches up her brows.

“Don’t fucking interrupt me. I’m giving you information and you have the audacity to be fucking rude?”

She squeezes your jaw hard. “Little cunt. Listen. That girl of mine? I killed her. I remember being extremely angry that day, pushed hard against an edge I didn’t even know I still had, until I was flying right over it.”

She then gives a disgusted huff of air. “I love this shit, and I used to be able to do what I liked with you fucks because most of you weren’t ‘useful’. Now I have to spare you assholes because he said so. But you better believe that I have the capacity to be wicked, just like you expect. I’m associated with my boss and his little circle for a reason. We’re all capable of terrible things. So when I tell you to do something, I expect you to fucking listen. When I beat you for my own amusement, I expect you to take it.”

She cocks a smile from the corner of her mouth. “And mind you, my boss and Lucius aren’t the only ones who know how to shoot a gun. They and even Milos helped teach me how. But for some obvious reasons, I’ve never been allowed to carry one down here, even though I have a pretty little one at home. It’s only something I got for emergencies. But I might have turned out like Lucius if I got my own little toy to play with down here.”

She pauses upon seeing your disgusted face and frowns. Her bright icy eyes then dart off to the side a bit while she starts to think. “I had my moments before becoming who I am now. Maybe the first time I ever accidentally hurt someone that bad I was confused and freaked out about it. You don’t just kill someone and get over it immediately, even if you are a hardass like I am, or even if you’ve seen people die like I have. Dealing with a dead body is one thing. Watching someone die and having the blood on your hands alone is another. It’s horrifying your first time. It’s ungodly.”

She finally straightens back up, no longer hovering over your face or clutching your jaw.

“But you get used to it after a while. Both those men used to remind me of that all the time, until I understood just what they meant.”

She then glowers watching you suck breaths through your mouth while glaring angrily at her.

Hearing all this, it dawns on you that it must bother her knowing that a man, or perhaps both men she once respected and trusted let you get away with so much in such a short time. She’s bitter toward you for a reason, isn’t she?

“What, runt? You have something to say?” Lilah edges you on, purely displeased at your silent response to her. “Go on. Amuse me.”

“What is there for me to say?” You weakly breathe. “You’re terrible.”

Lilah raises a brow. “Is that supposed to hurt my bitch feelings?”

“You really don’t care about anyone or anything at all enough to not be like this?”

Lilah brings her crop down over your mouth to set it upon your lips. Whether she has any intention to hit you there is uncertain, but you wind up shutting up quickly regardless.

“Like who, Milos?” She almost snorts. “Please. I don’t like anyone exclusively. I have my moments of respect or fascination, but I bore easily, and find most people aren’t worth my time. So many of them are just annoying or too boring for me. But some of us are sick and twisted, and maybe we have to rely on that one common thing to stick together with and keep ourselves sane. I’m sick myself, but at least I can accept that.”

She lifts the pointed tip up off your mouth and pats your lips lightly with it a few times.

“Hey, why don’t you ask me what you really wanna know?” She edges you on. “You wanna know if I give a single shit about my boss, right? Maybe Lucius? Or hell, maybe my own Number?”

She frowns. “I don’t exactly like either of those men anymore. I already told you. I put up with them now, whereas I used to talk more with them and enjoy their company. That doesn’t mean I’m not still extremely mad that they chose to distance themselves from me, because that shit still hurts. But as for that bitter little loser of a Number? He’s nothing at all to me.”

She can’t help but laugh aloud in such a condescending manner when she catches your eyes trailing off to the side. Not once does she remove the crop from your lips. “Did you seriously think I’d turn around and say I cared even a little about him? I beat him up because I need a punching bag. I took him in because I thought he might be fun to break, but I guess I was wrong. I only take care of the little mongrel enough for him not to die. You think I’m gonna be fucked to take even more care of a toy that doesn’t even always work? Do you have any idea how annoying it is that he passes out on me?! I’m frankly fucking amazed his brain still works with all I’ve done to him.”

Her amusement quickly fades as suddenly as it came. She slides the pointed tip of the crop down to your cheek and pats at it.

“You’re no different, runt,” She grumbles. “I’ve heard lots of shit about you and how you get when you’re at your limit. So if you’re not out by now, either I haven’t been rough enough with you, or you’re desperate enough to keep going. You must be a huge fucking masochist yourself if you’re still here.”

She frowns. “But I guess as long as you’re still breathing, it makes little difference to me. Regardless of what I do to you here, you have a doctor who actually wants you. Yosuke will come to your rescue and hold his little rapeslut tight. What a fucking embarrassment.

“If only I cared about getting a reaction out of him the way Lucius apparently does. I’m not going to bother dealing with his bitterness at seeing you broken. Your doctor can come get you himself if he wants to rescue you so bad.”

You scowl at the woman’s vile words about you and Yosuke, but this makes her angry.

“Mad, runt?” She calls you out and promptly slaps the crop against your thigh again with a hearty SMACK. “Don’t make me laugh. You can’t afford to be mad here. But if you’re insistent on being treated like a little brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

She reaches down with her free hand to pinch hard at your right nipple, without warning. You wriggle a bit at the sudden harsh sensation, but can’t do much to stop it. Lilah doesn’t let up on it either, simply watching from above you with her icy eyes.

“What are you whining for, idiot?” She scoffs. “Don’t like it?”

When she pinches harder, you struggle to contain a whine. One squeaks out, and Lilah promptly releases her grip and slaps you.

“What did I say? Apologize.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You try to follow her orders but it’s getting harder to with your body screaming in agony all different ways. You’re not sure just how much more of this the woman intends to dish out, nor how much more you can take. Going from being anesthetized and fucked hard to having the shit beaten out of you is beyond rattling.

Lilah glances down at you and groans vocally in annoyance. Finally, she pushes off your body and gets up. You try to glimpse what she’s doing, only to be taken aback by the sudden shifting of the table toward the middle of the room as Lilah yanks it by the edge and tugs it there. When it finally stops moving, you sit up in confusion.

“Get on your knees and wait,” Lilah commands with a sharp look. You shakily turn on your stomach and push off as best you can so that you can fold your knees under you and support your weight with both hands pressed flat against the cold of the table’s black, wooden surface.

Lilah, meanwhile, heads back to the counter to pick up some of the other things she left out. You hadn’t paid much attention to them given everything going on, but do side-eye the vile bitch as she heads back toward you with new toys. Her crop is now gone, replaced by something just as long, but much thicker and made entirely of silvery steel. She’s tucked the rod under her armpit while ferrying something black in her hands, but you immediately look back down once you see her icy eyes locking with yours, so you miss what it is.

It’s only when you feel her come up behind you and yank something across your mouth that you realize it’s a gag, but it’s not one you’ve really had used on you before. As it presses against your lips, your eyes cross looking down and see only the sides of a long black stick-like gag.

“Open your mouth, runt,” Lilah firmly commands you, and you do so. She tugs the gag back harder the moment your teeth are parted, and promptly fastens the thing tightly behind your head.

“I don’t want to hear any more of your noises, little shit,” Lilah criticizes you. “That and we’re going to be playing a little game that’s going to hurt. Bite down on this thing if you need to, because I would really rather not risk you accidentally biting your tongue off after being told not to hurt you that bad.”

She then smirks as she leans down by your ear. Her voice softens to a deceptive sweetness. “I had a girl do that once by accident. She looked so, so pretty with her lips stained with blood. I tried at least to go get help, but I left her alone long enough for her to do something even nastier just to get away from the pain.”

Your eyes widen as you stare down at the table, brows scrunched up as the woman beside you talks so casually about this horrid event. You jump a bit as you feel the cold tips of her fingers touch at your nape, and trail down to your chest. Lilah’s black lips get even closer to your ear, enough for them to touch it.

“I can’t wait for the day you die,” She almost moans with pleasure at the vile thought. “But for now I have to be patient.”

You wince and squeak in pain then as her fingers promptly pinch hard at your right nipple again, even tugging it down. Promptly, Lilah affixes something to your nipple that snaps shut, and all you can do is ball your fists on the table hard at the horrid sensation.

“Here, since you fucking like it so much,” Lilah bitterly comments, pulling away from your ear. She wastes no time repeating this pinching and clamping action to your left nipple, and when you bow your head down enough to get a glimpse of your chest, your eyes go wide seeing two black clamps pinching hard at them, keeping the skin stretched out a bit. Lilah lowers her brows.

“If it starts to go numb, that’s not really my problem,” she notes bluntly. “Not like this will last long anyway.”

Lilah stands straight and takes the metal rod out from under her armpit, curling her blackly manicured fingers around its thick base. She taps the frigid rounded tip against your middle back.

“Now be an obedient little runt for once and follow my instructions,” she calls out to you. “This is going to be a game for us to play. Stay on that table, don’t move, and don’t whine. I’m going to hurt you, and if you break my rules, you lose. If you can’t keep yourself on your knees or keep your body up and fall on the table, you lose. If you make a noise, you lose. Nod if you understand.”

You scowl, but nod. Lilah’s icy eyes again remain hawkish upon you. “If you win this without breaking my rules or passing out from pain—though I’m not sure why you would when it’s a pretty basic place to start and you’re still not down from all the other shit earlier—then I’ll let you go and leave you be for Yosuke to find you. But if you lose, hmmm…”

She retracts the rod from your back and taps it against her open palm while looking up in thought. “I guess I’ll humiliate and hurt you in front of my Number. I’ll drag him out of bed if I have to.”

She then returns her gaze to you and frowns. “I don’t care about the little asshole, but I know some things about him based on second-hand blabbing and talks with Gale. I know for sure he cares about you despite pretending he doesn’t like anyone. Having to make you both suffer would be at least a little amusing.”

Your eyes shut at the gruesome thought of Eight having to watch you like this. Having to make anyone you care about watch you suffer is just unbearable. It’s enough to go through this and most everything else that you have alone. You don’t want to drag others into it. It already hurts them just to hear of it.

“Do you understand, runt?” Lilah sharply questions with a light hit of the rod against your thigh. Even with how light it looks, this toy of hers is cold, thick, and heavy. The thing hitting even lightly at one of your previous welts from the crop still yields a wincing response. You bite down on the gag, but muster a nod.

When Lilah next criticizes you for keeping your eyes shut, you begrudgingly open them and stare directly at the table’s surface beneath you. Lilah chuckles lightly in amusement and runs the cold tip of her rod down your spine.

“Hey runt, this little toy of mine is much heavier than the crop,” she notes, teasing you. “A slutty girl like you could appreciate just how long and hard it is, right? But the fun thing about it being much thicker and made of metal is that when I hit you…”

She stops at your butt and promptly raises the rod to smack you hard with it, earning another grit of your teeth and a closing of your throat as you try to contain the response to the pounding pain of being whacked hard.

“…It hurts so much more.” Lilah smirks devilishly at your misery. For the sake of it, she whacks you hard again on your other ass cheek, then watches intently as you try holding in the response again.

“Aww, is baby hurt?” She mocks you with a babyish tone, though immediately follows this with another hard whack across your ass and switches back to her bitter tone. “Little cunt. Learn to deal with the pain. Those fuckers haven’t done enough to you. You lack discipline. And knowing you, even after this, you’re just gonna keep being a stupid little bitch and getting your nose into things you shouldn’t, because you think you can.”

Again, she whacks you, this time in a different direction along your ass. You’re too rattled to think about where. All you feel is burning pain as your skin no doubt grows extremely red wherever it hasn’t already been hit.

“You think you’re so fucking special because you get to be babysat and swarmed by those two?”

Again.

“You probably think learning about this place is going to be rewarding, too. But all it’s done is brought you nothing but misery, hasn’t it?”

Again.

Your knuckles are white by now, teeth biting so hard into the gag that you can feel pain in your gums and heavy ringing in your ears.

“You didn’t even have to be brought to me. You could have avoided all that pain. This is your fault. All of this is your fault!”

Again, again, and again. Every hit thrusts your body forward and causes your breasts to bob. By consequence, you feel the pinching so much more clearly in your nipples, and it hurts. However, you try hard to keep your balance and stay quiet. All the pain is starting to bring tears to your eyes, and though you pray Lilah won’t notice in her distraction of working your behind, your hopes are dashed when you hear her step a little closer toward your torso.

“If you let a single tear fall, runt, you’re going to lose,” she spits, tapping her rod against your right upper arm. “Don’t embarrass yourself more by crying.”

You let out a heavy, sharp breath from your nose as Lilah smacks your upper arm. She hits it less hard than your ass, but it’s still hard enough to hurt immensely.

“Hmm, you didn’t fall,” Lilah hums. She hits you again in the same spot and watches you wince and breathe heavily through your nose. Curiously, she brings her rod down to your forearm and smiles cruelly as your eyes widen at the sight of it being planted there. “Maybe this’ll do it.”

She whacks at your forearm, but despite you wanting to crumble at the pain, you stay holding your body up. Even when the woman hits you there again, again, and again, then switches to your other arm and hits you there, you don’t budge. Your body is screaming at you in agony, but you just won’t budge. You refuse to involve Eight in this.

Lilah scoffs. “Jesus, you’re trying really hard. You think that’s gonna impress me?”

She hits you again on your upper arm this time, but frowns when you again don’t budge. She doesn’t strike your back, strangely, but does again raise her leg to kick you hard in the side. You wind up almost toppling over with the impact, even having your hand lifted as she shoves you sideways enough for your body to lean hard one way. But you don’t fall. You quickly, despite the pain, try to keep your balance and stay firm in place.

Lilah watches you with a contemptful lowered brow. Rather than hit you again with her rod, she drops it to the floor and lets it make a loud heavy clang against the hard surface. The noise is so loud that it almost makes your ears start ringing, in fact.

Annoyed, Lilah uses both hands and all her upper body strength to shove you hard, sending you toppling over the left side of the table and crashing onto the floor. The clamps on your nipples again bob with the motion, only making you more aware of the hard pinching sensation in your flesh. As you fall, you land on one of the hard welts Lilah left on your side, so a wave of stinging pain is again sent throughout your body. In the end, you wind up lying flat on your stomach head pressed against the cool of the dark floor beneath you.

Lilah rounds the table toward you, yanks it off to the side just enough so that you’re surrounded by empty space, and promptly kicks the side of your head hard enough for you to see another flash of white. You simply give up and just lay there, breathing heavily through your nose and panting as your body tries to deal with all the shock and pain you’ve been dealt this entire visit.

“Little bitch,” Lilah mutters. “Guess you’re not as strong as you thought. Don’t get all excited, though. I don’t actually have time to drag the boy out of bed right now, nor the will to deal with him anyway. I just figured I’d fuck with you a little.”

You clench your fists when she says this. You’d forgotten that there wasn’t a whole lot of time for this visit, but with all the shit going on, it had slipped your mind. Even now your heart is still pounding, your skin raw and red in all different places. You don’t even wanna move anymore now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

Before Lilah can say anything else, she’s taken aback by a knock at the door. You’re too out of it to care who it is, and simply lay with your cheek pressed against the hard floor. The cold is strangely soothing right now.

“What the hell…” Lilah mutters in furious disbelief as she storms away to see who’s there. Once the door opens, your eyes trail over to its corners so that you can catch a bare glimpse of the person behind it. All you see is red and black.

“Hey, isn’t it after hours?” Micah’s voice calls out to Lilah. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh my god, are you serious right now?!” Lilah gripes. “I’m in the middle of something. Go home!”

“I was trying to finish up something. Wasn’t expecting to hear activity in any of the rooms,” Micah remarks. He then gives a curious tone. “We’re not supposed to be fucking around this late. What are you doing in here, huh?”

When he invites himself in and steps forward, Lilah groans. “It’s a special situation, are you kidding me right now? You see me with my clothes off? I’m busy!”

“Oho, you’re in one of your moods again,” Micah observes cheekily. He then steps toward you and squats down by your side. You feel his coarse hand run along some of the welts on your arm, and even get turned over on your back. Micah’s black eyes watch you curiously. You want to fight back, shift away, something, but all you can do is twitch painfully in response. Micah makes a “tch” noise at your motion.

“You really did this one dirty,” he remarks as Lilah stands by with her arms folded, icy eyes shooting daggers at the wily man. “Though if I recall, she’s not your type. You testing the waters there, sweetheart?”

“Ask Lucius,” the purple-haired bitch spits back. “Boss is pissed about us yelling or something, I dunno. But I needed to talk to this one. I’m killing two birds with one stone or whatever.”

Micah makes a confused hum. “Are you supposed to be talking about-“

“She knows, dipshit,” Lilah interrupts. “She knows a lot, just not everything.”

“Oh, I’m aware what being cooped up in that shithole probably exposed her to,” Micah casually affirms, pushing himself back to a standing position. “It’s not her being mouthy that I’m worried about.”

“Don’t pretend you actually give a shit what happens to me,” Lilah bitterly responds in disbelief. She then walks toward Micah and grabs his shirt collar. “I'll be just fine. Now I said get out, Micah. I told you I’m in the middle of something.”

The young man does not budge, simply cocking a smirk. “I dunno, seems to me like you’re just about done. She looks like she’s ready to pass out.”

When he brushes his coworker’s pale hand away, Lilah scowls and immediately slaps him. Micah still refuses to budge, but he doesn’t turn his head back to the woman just yet. He adjusts his jaw a bit and blinks.

“Ouch.”

“I’m not kidding!” Lilah fusses at him when he doesn’t move. “I said leave!”

Micah finally turns his head back to Lilah and steps right up to her. “Yeah? Make me.”

Lilah pauses a moment, staring at the man, before eventually scoffing and shoving his chest. The action causes Micah to take a step back, but all he does is keep his cocky little smile.

“You’re just bored because you don’t have your dinky little toy,” Lilah criticizes Micah harshly, though her furious tone has dropped just a hair. “Anyway if they see that you came in here, they’re gonna get after you.”

“’Don’t pretend you actually give a shit about what happens to me’.” Micah mocks, inviting a frown from the woman near him. “Hey, I’m already in trouble for one thing.”

Shrugging Lilah’s annoyance off, he sits along the shorter edge of the table that’s now a foot away from your body. You can no longer see his face with his back toward you, since he’s sitting closest to your feet. Though, you see that his legs are partly spread open, and that he’s leaning his elbows casually on his knees. He tips his head up to looks at Lilah, still challenging her with the smirk you’re sure is still plastered on his face.

“What’s it matter, hm?”

Lilah remains unamused, and perhaps disgusted by the way she’s sneering. “You sound like Vanessa. Guess that makes sense since you two hung around so much before.”

“Well, she doesn’t own my ass anymore, but she’ll still get pretty mad if she knows I’m here with you.”

Again, Lilah pauses a moment, staring at Micah intently as if thinking on something. With a huff of annoyed breath, she moves toward him and shoves him back. He doesn’t bother hiding his playful intentions, and lays back against the bench with his arms folded back and hands supporting his head.

Lilah straddles his legs, pressing her weight and her body against the man, arching her back in a sensual manner as she leans forward. Her manicured hands press against his shoulders, and her face hovers closely above his. You watch the two with contempt, but are simultaneously relieved that Lilah’s attention is off of you.

Though you fully expect the two to start fucking in front of you, nobody really acts just yet. Lilah simply gives Micah a sultry look and tilts her head as if to kiss him, but doesn’t. He even tilts his own head up while watching her closely, but he doesn’t seem convinced she’ll follow through.

“You think I’m going to?” Lilah speaks softly despite her condescending words, completely unlike how she spoke with you. “Hm?”

Micah laughs subtly, voice low. “Think it’s worth holding my breath?”

“You’re a little skeeze,” is the woman’s displeased response. She brings her lips to the man’s ear and bites his earlobe hard. “You’re just bothering me to get back at what I did the other day, aren’t you? Or are you just horny because my ass is out?”

“I guess that helps,” Micah admits cockily. “It’s nice. Probably about the only nice thing there is about a cunt like you.”

Lilah gives what you think is a genuine, if subtle laugh, but shoves the man’s shoulders hard at the same time. “Shut the fuck up.”

She sits straight with her arms extended out and hands planted on the man below. “I’m not in the mood, Micah. This was just business, and I’ve got other shit to deal with. Go jerk off if you’re that bored.”

“I’m just fucking around,” Micah shrugs, still with a smirk. “Still, worth a shot, yeah?”

Lilah narrows her eyes. “You’re a real hardhead.”

She gets off of the wily man and lets him shift back up. Now that his head is more visible, you notice Micah’s ear is extremely red after Lilah’s hard bite of it. Her arms fold while she watches the wily, redheaded man brush off his pants, and dip both hands in his pockets while still keeping his legs spread comfortably and casually out.

“So anyway, who’s gonna tell Yosuke about all this, huh?” He questions his coworker casually, as if nothing happened. “He’s gonna get pissed seeing his pretty little princess all beat up to shit.”

“Hell if I care,” Lilah shrugs with a frown. “I’m not sticking around even if Lucius said to. Maybe I’ll pass him by and let him know.”

Micah rolls his eyes around and thinks a bit. “Maybe I could do it for you. And maybe we could have a drink after?”

“You’re pushing it red,” Lilah denies him, but doesn’t speak as angrily this time. “Don’t bother. I’m not lying when I say I’m busy. I’ve got something hopefully good coming my way. It’ll keep me a bit occupied for at least a day or two.”

Micah briefly takes one hand out of his pocket and strokes at his chin a bit. “Throw a dog a bone’ kind of thing?”

“Lucius promised everything was ready. Was that a lie?”

Micah shrugs. “Hey, I don’t know much after a certain point. I did my part. It’s why I’m putzing around again.”

“Well aren’t you such a good boy,” Lilah mocks him. “Look, don’t worry about doing me favors. I’ll deal with it. But catch me again on a good day, and maybe we can negotiate. But don’t think that dick is all I want.”

Micah shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be personal. I know your game, Lilah.”

Lilah scoffs. “Yeah, and I know yours, red. If I asked you to bark, would you?”

“Depends on my mood.”

Lilah groans in annoyance. “Look, I’m not having this discussion right now. Talk to me later.”

She then points her thumb behind her toward the door. “For now, fuck off.”

Micah chuckles a bit and makes a fake saluting gesture. “Yes ma’am.”

As he begins to stand, he chuckles devilishly. “See you around, honey.”

“Remind me to make rule one no fucking pet names,” Lilah sneers as Micah finally humors her demand. “I get enough of that shit from Milos.”

Once he’s gone, the witch turns her attention back to you and frowns.

“You,” she calls, voice back to its usual snappiness. “We’re done. I don’t feel like dealing with your bullshit anymore. If the workers show up before Yosuke does, maybe they’ll coddle you instead.”

She frustratedly goes to collect her clothes, but doesn’t once bother to clean you up or attend to you. You have to do it yourself, so while she gets dressed in her skirt, shirt, and boots, you weakly reach back to undo the gag, then down to unclamp your nipples which by now feel numb. It’s at least a little relieving to be free, though.

In moments, Lilah’s ready to go. She gives one last look at you before bothering to depart, though. Despite looking like she wants to say something else, she doesn’t bother, and simply scoffs in disgust and leaves you bruised up on the floor.

You don’t stay on your back, instead rolling on your side and curling up a bit. Now that things are starting to settle, the bruising and the harsh imprints on your skin are really starting to hurt and sting and swell more. It’s difficult to move right now, even though you’d like to get up and start tending to your own wounds. You know where supplies in the cabinets are. You know how to bandage and clean things. But for now, you don’t move. You just want some kind of warmth after all that. Now that you’re alone again, you feel…empty. Painful, and empty.

For some reason, you were able to hold out without breaking down. Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or perhaps you were just being stubborn. But now that you’re alone again you feel like blubbering. You’re weak and exhausted, but unable to sleep with all the pain. You think you’re crying, but not really that hard. You’re just dripping tears onto your cheeks and the floor, but your face is still.

It’s not long before you’re found, and you think Yosuke is trying to get you to speak, but you can’t really make anything out. Everything following Lilah’s departure seems to happen in random bursts, but you think Yosuke immediately checks your body by glancing it over, and by pressing his hands along parts of your body to make sure you’re not hurt internally. He keeps asking you questions at some point about whether you feel numb or dizzy or if you’re having a hard time hearing or seeing. You’re not really struggling with any of those things to a worrisome degree, but you just find it hard to really respond after the shock of being beaten so badly. All you muster is shaking your head weakly, or giving a hushed “no”.

You wind up sitting across Yosuke’s lap at some point, being dabbed with something that smells different from alcohol or peroxide like he’s used before. It’s strong and disgusting in your nose, making you nauseous, but you let him clean you and disinfect certain parts of your skin. When he gets to your stomach, you groan and grit your teeth, even clutch tightly at your doctor’s coat, but Yosuke holds you close with one arm and speaks softly to you. You can’t really focus on what he’s saying even with his murmurs in your ear.

Eventually, he finishes with this and carries you off to the shower, taking care not to get the fresh dressing on your stomach wet, but simultaneously making sure the warm water hits everywhere else. After all the cold, being basked in warmth feels so comfortable now. Your muscles and skin all still ache, but you think Yosuke slipped a few pills into your mouth while you were still in your daze, and now all you feel is cloudy.

You’re toweled off and redressed as usual, though Yosuke has to move slowly with you in your pained state, as most every touch on your body, even light, brings more soreness and stinging.

“It’ll go away with the medicine,” he assures you in a gentle voice when he sees you wincing. “Just hold on. Give it more time.”

As he combs your hair out, you notice your doctor’s olive eyes focused and narrow. He’s pissed, but so long as he’s busy tending to you, he won’t have a reason to lash out. You say nothing and let him take care of you.

A worker eventually comes to bring some kind of ice pack before disappearing again, and Yosuke presses the cold thing against some of your worst bruises. With your skin still somewhat wet, it’s completely frigid and only adds a bit more to the lingering pain of your battered body, but your doctor urges you to bear it, stating it’s something that will help.

However long you stay in the room is unknown, but Yosuke continues with his compresses until he eventually decides he’s done. The cold is admittedly eventually refreshing, but when you mindlessly and lightly touch the pad of one finger along one of the bruises on your thigh that he iced, it feels completely cold.

Because you’re still wet, you can’t help but shiver a bit. When he sees this, Yosuke takes his coat off and wraps you in it, keeping the air off your arms and chest. Even if the fabric isn’t super thick, the extra layer does feel nice, you admit.

When Yosuke picks you up, you don’t fight back. When he holds you close, you stay limp and leaning against his chest. Hearing his heartbeat now is comforting, and helps calm you down just a little. Otherwise, you two exchange no words, and Yosuke simply ferries you to bed.

At first, you feel ready to collapse into the pillow, but something makes you have second thoughts once Yosuke starts to lower your body down onto the bed. When he prepares to place you down, you strangely find yourself gripping his blue sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” Your doctor’s voice is low, but you can tell he’s worried. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his dress shirt. You struggle to speak, but not because it’s physically hard to. You realize what it is you want, and you feel terrible for asking.

“I…” you hesitate. “…Please stay.”

This makes your doctor look down at you with a tilt of his head. “Is something the matter, dear?”

“I need warmth,” you plead quietly between murmurs. “Anyone’s. Even yours.”

You feel selfish and stupid asking for it, especially knowing Yosuke is usually all too eager to make you stay close to him. But Lilah’s abuse was a monstrous finish to your terrible shot recovery. You never expected you’d react this way to it. You thought you’d do fine after holding out through everything, but realize quickly that you only did because your body was in shock. Now, you’re anything but fine.

Yosuke pauses a moment to assess your face, but does not deny your request. Instead of leaving you on the bed, he sits in it with you, legs outstretched. He lays you atop him and leans your torso and your head against his chest. With you coddled upon him, he brings your comforter over both your bodies and helps keep you warm. Despite usually feeling despicable and vulnerable like this with him, you take it in stride, and even curl up against your doctor desperately.

It’s just for tonight, you tell yourself. Just for tonight.

Quietly, your doctor brings a hand up and pets your head gently, making long stroking motions and giving you all the warmth you want as he holds you tight with his other arm.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight, dear?” He murmurs gently.

You nod in silence. This time, you don’t bother telling him not to get any wise ideas about the gesture. You’re both too tired and too desperate for warmth to be bitter. You’ll let Yosuke be your warmth for now.

Your body still hurts, but whatever medicine it is Yosuke fed you is apparently starting to work, because soon all of your pain sort of melts away into a warm numbness. Your head grows dizzy, and you slowly shut your eyes while your doctor continues to coddle you sweetly.

“He won’t like it, but you should take at least another day to rest,” he notes. The purring of his voice in his chest, and the consequent vibrations it brings against your ear are soothing. You don’t exactly like the idea of taking time off after you’ve already been absent from the group, but Yosuke can tell somehow that this is your immediate worry when your hand curls more tightly against his shirt. He follows up his statement thus.

“I’ll ask Gale to let it slip that you’re doing just fine,” he promises. “Alright?”

You realize then he hasn’t bothered to ask what happened or why, but that all he’s done since coming for you is make sure you’re safe. You suppose it’s a good thing—you really don’t want to recount your visit so soon. Maybe when you’ve gotten some sleep, you’ll be more in sorts to talk about it.

For now, you weakly nod, and let your doctor keep petting you. Every stroke he makes, every long, slow breath in his chest, every nuzzling of his arm against you only causes you to sink further into your exhaustion.

You don’t have time to think about anything else, and let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

---

The next time you wake up, you’re not the least bit better.

When your eyes open and see that you’re lying beside your now sleeping doctor, it becomes more apparent that your body is simply raw with soreness, with lingering agony. It’s that which woke you.

Moving around too suddenly or too much only makes your muscles ache. The bruises are so numerous, yet you remain aware of each and every one on your skin as they remain raw with the imprint of your torment. Still, you could live with those. It’s the muscles in your stomach and side that hurt the most, since Lilah beat you there when she was angriest. Naturally, her fury would be strongest impressed wherever she decided to exert it most.

Breathing too deeply, shifting your body in just the wrong way, or raising your arms in any capacity makes the pain roll through your muscles. At first it’s unbearable, but you find a way to forcefully accustom to it enough to not lay helpless forever.

What a vile woman. How Eight puts up with her, you can’t understand. What Micah even saw in her, beyond just in beauty, puzzles you just as much. You’re frankly quite glad you didn’t have to lay there and watch them fuck, but knowing how they spoke, you’re sure they’re going to get together for a fling. It’d strike you as strange, but it seems to be commonplace to have flings with coworkers in this place knowing the restrictions The Overseer places on his employees. Plus Gale had said proximity had a lot to do with attraction. No doubt being cooped up in this place with the same people would eventually make you want to get close with them. And maybe that’s why Lilah stays with Milos, beyond just feeling “nostalgic”. Her choices are pretty limited now.

You can’t sympathize with her whatsoever. She expressed grievances at being stuck here despite never expecting to be, but her horrible attitude toward others, her willingness to be cruel…none of that justifies whatever woes she may have once had. Somehow, you feel more sorry for Mom than you do Lilah. You shouldn’t feel sorry for either of them.

It shakes you to know that everything you experienced is the extent to which some Numbers suffer under her wrath. It’s just sick. You saw all the bruises on Eight and Two, saw how roughly Lav was doing after her own visit with the doctor of the dead. Now having borne it yourself, now knowing how horrible she really is, you feel ill. Even now you can finally think straight enough to remember her mention of having murdered other prisoners before.

What a wicked woman. She cares little what happens to anyone who isn’t important to her.

She’s not too unlike Lucius, relishing in others’ pain, but she isn’t the type to will someone to die the way he is. She wouldn’t do it on purpose, you don’t think. Well, no, at the same time, she cares little if it happens by her hand, judging by how she spoke of her previous Number and whoever else she visited before. Like Lucius, Lilah can brush off death like nothing. What you don’t understand is just what she meant by saying she’d seen death before. When? Before the facility, or only here? The way she said it made it sound like she’d experienced it even before her first kill here.

You almost don’t want to think about it, but have nothing but time while you lay here in your doctor’s arms. What could have driven her to this job anyway? What kind of family did she have to become this vile witch of a woman? Certainly The Overseer, Milos, and Lucius all had a hand in shaping her.

Her father…she seemed happy he was dead. Happy that her boss did whatever he had to the man. No mention of the woman’s mother, but you shudder to think what could have befallen her if she was ever around.

Thinking about it starts to become exasperating enough for you to give up any attempts to piece it together. You’re too tired anyway. In fact, exceedingly so. You start to think it’s still late in the night if you’re this out of it. The only reason you’re up now is because your medicine must have worn off.

When you glimpse up at Yosuke’s face, he’s fast asleep, glasses and shirt both off and neatly placed on the desk chair behind him, one arm wedged under you. He’d likely held you until you passed out, then tucked you into bed before slipping beside you.

You hardly bother griping internally about him holding you. Right now, it feels comfortable. And so long as you’re here and safe with him, he won’t fuss about anything else. He won’t have a reason to be unruly with Lilah about what she did. In the end, even though you’re hurting, you’ll be fine. You’ll heal physically.

Though, maybe you should be proud for getting through a visit with Lilah. Never once in all your days here did you ever think she would see you, that she would hurt you. But if you can get through the hell of your confinement and through Milos’ abuse, then nothing can ever break you again.

Well, you hope so, anyway.

Still, it’s worth it to be cautious. Lilah’s was a different kind of terrible, but still terrible nonetheless. Being traumatized so many times over and over before her visit at least helped prepare you for it, but it still hurts your heart and your head regardless.

You again try not to dwell on it. When you instead pick your head up just a little, you can see a few things on your desk that you’d been too drugged up and tired to notice earlier. There’s a blank bottle of pills there, some bottles of water, and some…filled syringes? You hope it’s just doses of anesthetic. If Yosuke wants to keep his princess asleep, you’ll take it this time. Letting your body heal a little with one day of rest is worth it for now. If he does anything, then…

You only try to reason with the thought by asserting it wouldn’t be as bad as what happened with Milos. While Yosuke seems to prefer you awake because he wants you to feel everything, at least your doctor would rock his hips gently against you in your sleep if he was desperate enough to rape you in that state.

Nonetheless, you aren’t sure when Yosuke procured these items or if they’d been there the whole time since he brought you here. You don’t really care anyway. Nothing there seems of immediate concern.

All you do is drop your head back against the pillow, but the motion still apparently causes your doctor to stir, until he wakes.

He groans low a bit as he shifts up, watching you with worry. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

His arm slips out from under you as he sits up, hand instead placing itself upon your cheek. You shake your head.

“Medicine wore off,” is all you mutter. “I can’t sleep.”

“You need more,” Yosuke affirms as he gets himself off the bed to fetch more of the pills. He pops two out, then shuts the thing and returns to you with them and a bottle of water.. “Can you sit up?”

You try to, but wince at the sore stinging doing so brings. Yosuke simply puts the water down and takes his hand to your back to steady you.

“She was really mad,” you note when Yosuke looks on, eyes slightly narrowed as he sees you in pain. When you’re ready, you open your mouth and allow him to place two capsules on your tongue, then feed you some water. “Lucius made her see me as punishment for eavesdropping. But I think it was more of a vendetta.”

This seems to take the man aback. “How so?”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know. He’s been pecking at me ever since I made his boss mad. And then lately he’s been after me for hearing things I never should have.”

Yosuke tips your chin up gently. “Like what?”

You pause a moment, uncertain on whether to explain it to him. What if Lucius is listening behind that door right now? What if someone hears? What if-

Yosuke’s thumb swipes along your lips, and he frowns. “You’re afraid to say.”

You nod slowly, and Yosuke drops his hand. He collects the water and takes it back to the desk, but then proceeds to open its drawer and take out the old notebook Gale left a long time ago. You hadn’t forgotten it was there or anything, but find it odd to see it again.

After taking his glasses as well and affixing them over the bridge of his nose, Yosuke quietly comes to your side and opens an empty page of the notebook before handing it and a pen to you. His words remain low in volume.

“Write it, dear. If you can. I won’t tell anyone about it.”

You take these things uncertainly, not acting upon the order right away. What an odd request, but it strangely does put your mind at ease about any eavesdroppers. Even if the idea was a stupid one, you still can’t help but worry.

But what do you even write? You can’t tell Yosuke about Dahlia. No way. What if he knows her? What if he binds you every night from then on because he’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself trying to understand your past?

Will he know if you don’t mention it? If you’re not speaking to or looking at him?

You’re not sure, but you decide to humor the man just enough to explain on paper just what happened with Micah and Sven, then what you went through in your daze while away from him these past few days. Your worry turns to bitterness when you explain what Milos did, and what you learned of his relationship to Lucius. This is probably something Yosuke already knows enough of, so there’s nothing to hide there.

You omit everything about Dahlia, and of Ulrich’s name, but do admit you overheard him and Lucius in a dream while coming up from anesthesia. Because Yosuke already knows you’re a “target”, you don’t really hide the fact that both men were likely monitoring you. Monitoring what, you’re not sure. But definitely monitoring you.

“I think they want me alive,” you mutter quietly as your doctor adjusts his glasses and reads your words with focused eyes. “Just for now. But they’re not above hurting me like this.”

“I wish I could say that’s a good thing, but it’s not,” Yosuke sighs a bit. After reading your words, he drops the notebook in his hand by his thigh, then places his other hand on your head and looks at you worriedly. “You’re my responsibility. I have to protect you, but it seems they all enjoy hurting you at my expense. It’s infuriating.”

Wanting to distract him, you reach up to take his hand and instead place it on your cheek. His olive eyes soften as they watch you.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “For taking care of me. And for not making fun of me for needing you to.”

Yosuke does not smile, though he does appear taken by your gentle gratitude. He thumbs at your cheek a bit, nudging at it delicately.

“I will always do so,” he promises. “I’ve been quite worried about you. They wouldn’t tell me what was going on or where you were.”

He eventually pulls away and plucks the notebook from your lap. “Give me a moment. I’ll take care of this.”

You hear a hint of frustration in his voice, but know well he’s attempting to hide it away for your sake. At the very least, he’s not angry at you. Not anymore, if ever he was before your shot.

You can’t see what he does, but hear him go to your bathroom to turn on the sink for a moment, then rip out a page from the notebook. After letting it run for a bit, he shuts the water off and promptly tosses something into a bin near him, before eventually returning to your desk to discard the now-closed notebook, then moving back to where you are.

“What did you do?” You ask. Yosuke smiles for you.

“I threw it away,” is all he says, but you’re sure that’s not all it was. You assume he wet the page to make it easier to obscure and tear up, and realize that this is a method you could easily utilize yourself if need be. But for now, you hide that information away in your mind, and keep focused on your doctor as he runs his knuckles along your cheek.

“Lay back down, dear” he bids you sweetly. “You need more rest.”

You clutch at the blankets and stare off blankly. “Are you going to make me?”

“Hm?” Yosuke gives you a curious look. You only elaborate.

“The syringes.”

Yosuke turns his head toward the desk to glimpse the syringes there, then back to you with a smile.

“Only a precaution,” he assures you. “In case the medicine wasn’t going to work. They’re small doses, but enough to distract you from the pain. Nothing to worry about.”

When you go quiet, Yosuke brings his hand beneath your chin, lightly cups your jaw, and tips your head up.

“My dear, understand I only want you to be okay right now,” he tries to be clear. “I feel bad that you had to suffer like this. But do realize it’s partly because you have been so persistent that we’ve ended up here. I don’t want you to get hurt needlessly.”

“I know you’re not above drugging me, but it still bothers me that you have those there,” you tell him bluntly. You half-expect this statement to bug him, but he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. “Are they really, truly for my sake?”

Yosuke nods. “I promise. I only intended to use them as a means to keep you from feeling the pain in your body. I understand what Milos did while you were unconscious has frightened you, but I’m only trying to take care of you. To look out for you. If you have to slumber a little longer than usual, then the anesthetic will ensure that you do.”

How disgusting to think that you have to be reminded of Lucius every time the drug comes up now. Though, you forgot to tell Yosuke about what you discovered about Luma. Maybe that’s for the best, since he might wind up associating the man with the drug involuntarily as you are now.

Yosuke leans down to kiss you, lingering on your lips a moment before pulling back. “Perhaps now that you’ve gotten over the worst of it, you can have better dreams.”

You look away blushing, unwillingly remembering in vivid detail the recent dream you had with Yosuke. “A-anyway, how long will it take for me to be better?”

“A little while,” your doctor explains. “But the soreness might die down before the bruises fully go away. I was concerned about internal damage, but when I assessed you, I didn’t feel anything off, and you seemed to affirm being okay in the moment.”

“I was so tired that I don’t remember saying it,” you admit. Yosuke frowns.

“You were very shaken by all that,” he acknowledges. “It’s understandable. But even now that several hours have passed, the fact that you’re able to talk to me and aren’t really feeling anything more than soreness is a good enough sign that it wasn’t as serious as it could have been. You only feel those things, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Lucius told Lilah not to hurt me that bad. But this still feels bad.” You look down at your arms and are taken aback just how red they are. When the bruises were fresh, they just looked like light red blotches. They’ve since just slightly deepened in color, but it’s enough of a contrast with the rest of your skin to look jarring and nasty.

“Yes,” Yosuke drops his hand. “It’s bad. But not so bad that you’re in immediate mortal danger. Lilah knows the body well enough to know how hard to hit and how hard not to, I suppose. She knows your limits because she knows the body is truly as frail in some areas as it is strong in others. If she was told not to do irreversible damage, I assume she followed that, if begrudgingly.”

Your hand reaches up to your neck, and you shut your eyes. “Lilah said she’s killed people before. And Milos would have done more if he wasn’t interrupted. If neither of them had the restrictions they did, I’m worried to think what could have happened. How much worse it could have been.”

Yosuke’s hand touches upon your head, and you look up at him. His olive eyes remain warm upon you.

“Don’t think about it now,” he urges gently. “You need to sleep.”

You pause a moment before asking him a question, but don’t once look him in the eye when asking it.

“Will you stay?”

You’re not sure if you asked it because you wanted him to, or if you were bitter toward the idea of him continuing to coddle you because he presumed it would be okay to after you asked him for his help. Regardless, Yosuke’s lips curve slowly into a sweet smile. He must be over the moon hearing you plead like this. Without hesitation, he takes your hand away from your neck and holds it tight.

“I said I would, my darling. I know you struggled with me before Lucius took you, and I’m sorry for it. But now’s the time for me to comfort you after what happened. So, do lay down for me, alright?”

You say nothing, but nod and let your doctor lay you back on the bed. It still hurts a bit, but the medicine seems to slowly be working again. It doesn’t hurt as much now as it had when you woke.

“How long do I need to take that medicine?” You ask while your doctor joins you on the bed and wraps the blanket around you both.

“A few days at least,” he says before again slipping his arm beneath your body and holding you close with the other. His warmth feels cozy, so you nuzzle up against him just for now. “I’ll take care and keep track of everything. Don’t worry.”

You find it difficult to keep letting yourself be so open to him now that you’re not as immediately frazzled by what happened, so you finally decide to comment bluntly on your attitude tonight.

“Yosuke, when I’m better, I’m going to keep being the way I was. I’m just weak right now, so I need you.”

Yosuke simply chuckles a bit. “Yes, dear. I know well how you are, and that you’ll fight me. But just for now, I’ll enjoy this. Even I can count my blessings.”

He hugs you closer, but you don’t really bother to stop it. You guess it was pointless to tell him that, but felt if you didn’t, he might get the wrong idea. You just wanted to cover your bases, mainly.

Yosuke kisses the top of your head, smiling to himself as you lay limp in his arms and start to fall asleep again now that the pain is starting to subside.

“Sleep tight, dear.”

Chapter 85: Rest Thirty Five - Problem

One day of rest doesn’t allot for the greatest recovery, but it’s all Yosuke can manage to fight for. You don’t know if The Overseer and his lackey are just pissed at you enough not to be nice about letting you recover fully, or if they really don’t want your doctor getting distracted. Both seem plausible. As of late, you’re both on the receiving end of their bitterness.

This time of rest doesn’t last as long as you’d like, but Yosuke does well to keep you in his care and hopped up on just enough meds to not be in agony like you were. The only drawback is this incessant feeling of exhaustion that’s just hanging there, but you suppose you sleep a lot in this place anyway, and that it doesn’t much matter.

You awake without your doctor in bed, but find him instead dressed back in his usual attire, standing by your desk and shuffling through papers in his hand. You don’t bother stirring, simply glimpsing both him and the items across your desk with a peep of one eye while comfortably nested into the pillow.

The papers in Yosuke’s hand are evidently illegible from this distance, but you figure it’s just more information about you. The desk itself, from what you can see from the sides since Yosuke’s standing in the center of your view, is still populated with water, syringes, your art supplies (tucked to one corner), and the edge of what you presume is a tray.

Are you hungry? You’re not sure. You just sort of want to lay here dizzy with these pain meds. Or maybe you’re just tired because your body is still completely drained from last night. Maybe tomorrow will be better, but you’ll just have to put up with it for now.

The pain in your stomach is no longer as agonizing, but still present. If you were to bother bending or stretching enough, both it and your sore sides would probably sting a bit. But just moving slowly or not too much is feasible. Limiting, but feasible.

Your eye trails down a bit to where your arm is resting underneath the pillow, and when you slowly pull it out from its plushy alcove, the sight of deep red and purplish spots on your skin is almost frightening enough to make you gasp.

You know what bruises look like on others, but seeing so many all over your arm is striking. You try not to move much, but turn and nudge your limb enough to see more than just one side of it.

Everywhere. Everywhere, there are bruises.

It’s disturbing. You wonder if the others felt even worse seeing their own bruises for the first time. Three and Eight have apparently become accustomed to it enough to ignore their markings. Most everyone here brushes aside what they see if only to preserve their sanity. You suppose you understand more about what that’s like now than you did when you first came.

The initial shock of seeing your injuries imprinted so vehemently on your flesh wears off a bit quicker than you expected. It’s terrible, but you reason with the idea through downplay— you’re just marked like everyone else here. Maybe in some sick way that makes you even closer to them. A sense of community garnered by common miseries…

You glower a bit, brows scrunching up as you stare at the marks on your arm. What a sick rite of passage. Being likened to Cyrus or Eight through your miserable experiences isn’t really a good thing.

But at least it gives you a lot to talk to them about.

Annoyed, you tug your comforter over your head and just lay there beneath it, letting your face warm up with the heat of your breath bouncing back against your cheeks. Apparently your eyes shut at some point, because suddenly you’re shaken awake again by Yosuke peeling down the comforter at some point and calling to you.

“You shouldn’t cover your face like that,” he tells you. “You could suffocate.”

He chuckles a bit, making you realize he’s only joking around. But what an odd thing to say.

You only look up at him with your head still sinking into the pillow, doing nothing when he reaches a hand down to delicately stroke your hair.

“Good morning, my dear,” he smiles, and you simply mumble back the same greeting. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy.” You’re frankly annoyed to have come from a shot where all you were was groggy, only to end up right back in that state afterwards. Hopefully you’re not this tired the entire time you’re on pain meds. Well, maybe that’s a false hope given how wrecked you feel.

“You seem fine otherwise,” Yosuke comments, keeping the papers in his hand by his side while continuing to stroke you. “No pain, I hope?”

“Not a lot. I’m afraid to move, though.”

“And I’m afraid you’ll have to,” your doctor frowns a bit. “You need to eat something, pet.”

You don’t respond with words, and instead tiredly grip the edge of the comforter and grumble while pulling it up over your face again. Yosuke simply retracts his hand and chuckles a bit.

“Now, dear, don’t be fussy.”

You’re annoyed having been so cozy with the man last night, to be frank. Maybe wanting to be a bit biting is just how you’re making up for that. Though, you’re still feeling pretty shitty and wonder if you really even have the strength to be a complete jerk to the man.

You hear the papers left back at the desk after a few footsteps, but are then promptly handled by your doctor who fumbles around with his hands in order to grip you from under the covers and sit your body up. He moves gently, but his hold of you is firm.

Being shifted around doesn’t necessarily hurt, but you definitely feel soreness on your bottom when you’re forced to sit on it, and then more soreness in your stomach when Yosuke adjusts your body. He does so cautiously, but there’s really no getting around the fact that most all of you is fucked up right now. It’s just something you’ll have to get used to while healing. At least one day of rest will help it get along, even if you’d like more time before the other doctors start attacking you again for company.

Once you’re up, Yosuke peels away the comforter from your upper body and adjusts it flat in your lap. You look away from him as he deals with both this and acquiring your breakfast, keeping quiet as he moves onto feeding you.

When you finally do catch a glimpse of his olive eyes, you notice they’re wandering along your body rather than absolutely focused on the task at hand. He catches your own peeping gaze just once, and tries to smile.

“Those bruises will look bad for a while, but they’ll heal up,” he assures. You’re surprised even he’s reeling at how bad they are. Usually he’s more composed about it.

The rest of the day is fairly quiet, with Yosuke starting off by brushing your teeth and hair for you. Not once does he leave your side, which you aren’t fond of, but accept. You do little more in the room than take more pills and let Yosuke thoroughly examine your skin. He presses very gently on some areas to observe the wounds by touch, which the medicine thankfully prevents you from feeling all the pain of. If anything, it’s mainly just super sore and unpleasant.

A few times he asks you questions about how you’re feeling and what level of pain you’re at, documents what he sees and hears from you, and leaves it at that. It’s not as thorough as you’d expect, but perhaps it doesn’t need to be when the man’s hovering so much already.

Yosuke doesn’t really want to have to take you out of bed to go between rooms, so he resorts to leaving yours and coming back often. In and out, in and out, he comes and goes like one of the workers usually does. First, it’s to take your empty tray away, then to bring you more supplies to apply this or that to your bruises, then to make sure you’re not having any issues beyond what was shown yesterday, and then to deliver paperwork. You find he takes the longest to do this last task, likely because Mom is bothering him.

To your embarrassment, a lot of this day’s process also involves Yosuke having you lay back, and lifting your gown up to expose your stomach and ribs. You try not to look at him when he gently runs his fingers along the area and frowns while observing Lilah’s work.

Seeing your stomach makes you even more uncomfortable, given that there’s even fatter dark red blotches than what’s on your arms where the woman kicked you. Much bigger than what she inflicted with her crop and her metal rod. It’s harrowing.

At some point, you’re fed again: A meal of colorful vegetables and tender chicken, which is light but welcome. Despite usually insisting that he feed you, this time your doctor lets you take charge of feeding yourself. There is one unexpected moment while eating where you bite into something hard and pull a thin chicken bone from your mouth, but you think nothing of it, nor does anything else like it happen again as you eat.

A few times while taking bites, you eye the syringes on your desk while Yosuke sits in your chair by your bedside and reads from a book you can’t make out the title of from this angle. Frankly, you’re glad he hasn’t had to use the anesthetic. But you worry he’ll find any reason to.

You keep eating in silence, until your curiosity from glancing at your doctor’s book can't be satiated further.

“What are you reading?”

Yosuke turns his head toward you and frowns.

“A book about a man returning to his old home and shouldering the burden of a family death,” he admits. “It’s much too somber for you, my dear.”

“Does it matter when I’ve experienced what I have?” You question. Yosuke sighs a bit and places his book down on his lap.

“I suppose not. But I wouldn’t want you obsessing over gloomy things. We get curious about these difficult subjects when we’re facing our own struggles. It can be comforting, certainly, but I’d much rather you smile.”

You look down. You’ve only done that once for him, but don’t think you ever will again. You hope not.

“I try to sometimes, but it’s hard to,” is what you opt to say. “When I’m with the others, it isn’t so hard.”

Yosuke looks at you for a long while, but you can’t place what he might be thinking. Did you offend him? Is he mulling something over? It’s hard to tell.

After a long quiet, he eventually stands, leaving his book face down on the chair, and takes your empty tray away.

“Yes, it’s hard sometimes,” he says simply. “You’ve found a center in yourself before. Perhaps it’s best if you consider that an option, if smiling with your fellow guests isn’t exactly one.”

“What do you mean?” You’re confused. “I’ve been through a lot of squabbles with the others, but even then…”

Yosuke starts to head toward your door, but pauses there and looks back at you, body partly turned to face you.

“You never know what things might happen, dear,” he tells you. “People and situations are often unpredictable. But I suppose you’re right that you have a good standing with everyone there. That’s a good enough start. Anyway, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Just like that, he leaves you again. You’re confused by why he spoke as he did, but try to chalk it up to some kind of mind game just so you can push it away. You wind up glimpsing the book on the chair, and reach over to try gripping the side of the wheeled thing to tug it closer to the bed in order to reach the book. It’s a feat that arouses the hard soreness in your side, but you manage to accomplish the task despite the burden.

Upon finally grabbing the book, you press a thumb to the pages Yosuke’s on and close the novel to examine its cover. The title is simply “Reins” in a widely spaced font, with some kind of silhouette of a man underneath it. The back has a wide landscape scene with great big trees and distant houses, but it’s nothing impressive when it’s not the real thing. However, you can’t help but feel your heart grow heavy seeing some kind of image of the outside, even if it might be a fabricated one. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve seen a real sky that wasn’t in a dream or on a television.

To your surprise, the book isn’t censored, with a date right on the back of its cover, on one of the pages: 1980. You have no clue how significant it is, but that seems to be around when the story was written. Reading the date makes no impression on you, though. You frankly can’t even really think of any associations with the period yourself upon trying. Just like with Nathaniel mentioning types of literature the last time he visited you, it’s not something you can remember enough of.

Brushing that aside, you wind up reading a little bit of one of the pages Yosuke’s on, noting he isn’t terribly far in, but certainly not at the start.

Peter saw not a cloud in the sky from his old bedroom window, yet the brilliant yellow glow of the sun licking at the tops of all the trees around the house did nothing to liven his mood. Were he a boy, he’d have been ever chipper and fresh with fascination for the landscape scene before him. He’d have drunk in the atmosphere, breathed in the crisp summer air from his open window. He’d have hopped out of bed and quickly prepared himself for anything the day could possibly throw his way.

But now a man, Peter stood blankly staring at the dirt driveway, and the subsequent line of pines behind the road it led to. He wanted direly to leave this place, but his father and brother were waiting downstairs for him. Through the many cracks and misshapen pieces of the wood floor beneath his feet, Peter could smell the strong coffee and cigarette smoke in the air, hear the tired mumbles of both men as they sat at the old oak table in the kitchen below and spoke under their breaths. Standing still allowed him to clearly feel knocks and bumps and creaks in the wood as his family shuffled their feet and postures below him..

Peter didn’t want a thing to do with any of this. But when his name was aroused loudly from the sharp tongue of his father, he figured it best not to dawdle. He began to dress, slipping into his carefully picked formal attire.

From downstairs, Peter could hear his father starting to mouth off about his other son’s absence and slow rhythm. Bitter, Peter thought how his mother would never have hurt him that way. Wouldn’t have dreamt of it. But she wasn’t here to defend her eldest, to quell her bitter husband with a touch of her hand or a soft word as she often did.

A gentle woman, but no longer. Peter felt he might not miss her since he’d disconnected from the others for so long while charting his own path, but he found himself fighting back much more than he expected. All for what?

She was gone. However, Peter wondered if she’d kept a piece of him when she died, for in this moment, he felt fractured.

Suddenly, you’re tearing up, and you can’t at all fathom why. It’s not some bombastic wailing or sudden choking in your throat. You just feel tears slowly stream out from your eyes and immediately put the book face down on the chair to wipe the wetness away before it grows.

“What the fuck,” you babble under your breath. You’ve read a few weird things before, but this hurts for some reason. You can’t really place why.

You try composing yourself quickly. Having Yosuke see you like this would be troublesome, making him ask all these questions you don’t have answers to.

For now, you chalk it all up to stress from earlier. Seeing the almost triangular bruises on your arms only makes this supposition more believable. Luckily, you eventually manage to stifle the strange misery in your heart and just lean back to stare idly at the ceiling.

Yosuke eventually returns, and you’re eventually able to brush off the passage. Though, nothing much of interest happens for the rest of the day. More examinations, more questions, more care, more medication. That’s about all there is to it. Yosuke does stay with you all day, but returns to his book while you eventually lay down to rest. While he reads, his hand reaches over to pet your head, but you don’t care enough to protest. If anything, it helps lull you into another dreamless slumber.

When you wake again, he’s still there, but now writing furiously on your desk with piles of paperwork by his right elbow. You make no attempts to bother him, but watch as his left arm moves sharply about as he scribbles. The book he was reading is on the desk too, but tucked in the corner atop your supplies. You don’t think he finished it, judging by the paper bookmark tucked between two pages near the bottom of the book.

You wonder, then, if someone came and made him do some work to make up for his absence aboveground. It’s quite plausible. Though, you’re not sure you like the idea of someone having come here to give him orders or paperwork while you were unconscious. Somehow, you envision Lucius watching your limp body on the bed like a predator. It’s a thought you try hard to push away.

Suddenly, you almost jump hearing a muffled shout, one almost distant, but certainly not quiet enough for you to brush it off as just part of your imagination. You can’t tell who it is, but there’s definitely some kind of commotion going on.

You can’t help but sit up to try leaning forward to hear better, but Yosuke hears you shuffling about and turns in his chair. He promptly puts his pen down and stands, instead walking your way.

You begin to hear thudding and another shout, but Yosuke brings his hand over your ears before you have the chance to garner what’s happening. You look up at him worriedly, but he doesn’t bother returning your gaze, his eyes shifted off to the side as he listens intently to whatever’s going on in the hall.

After a little while, he decides to let you go. When you try to listen to the outside again, you hear silence.

“What was that?” You ask without hesitation. Yosuke runs his hand down your cheek and leans you back along the bed.

“You’re supposed to rest today, pet,” he asserts, but with his voice still so gentle. “No other distractions for now. Tomorrow, you’ll return to everything like usual. Understand?”

“But-“

“Shall I put you to sleep myself?” You’re warned. Your brows scrunch up a bit, but you stop protesting.

“I already slept,” you mutter, turning on your side. “I’m not tired.”

“And the pain?”

“Not bad right now.”

Yosuke smiles. “Good. Then let’s make it better with more rest, mm?”

You pout and turn away from your doctor, annoyed. However, he chuckles at your gesture and kisses your head.

“At least try,” he urges. “I’ve got work to finish up.”

“Did they make you do it?” You mumble. Yosuke sighs a bit, but confirms.

“There’s always a lot to be done,” he says lowly. “And I’m not in the best of positions right now after what’s been happening with you. I had to fight just for today, but I’m working a little bit here to make up for it. This was the agreement I made.”

You try to speak up, but again hear some commotion outside, much to Yosuke’s annoyance. When you sit up again, you see him press a few fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a huff of air.

“Excuse me, dear.”

You watch as he slips one of the syringes from the desk into his pocket, but remain uncertain as to why he’s taking it. He doesn’t hide the commotion from you again, this time abandoning you for a moment to go into the hall. Briefly, after the door shuts, you hear another raised voice, but then everything goes quiet again before your doctor returns.

You lay down again, motionless in bed while facing your doctor as he continues on with his work. The rest of the time, you eye his pants pocket, watch, and wait for him to extract the syringe and put it back on the table.

But he never does. Not once.

Did he…use it? Did he give it to another doctor? You can’t fathom what went on. As it is, you can’t fully tell whose voices were shouting.

It’s not long before you feel tired again from more medicine, but as angry as you are about being so tired, you just accept it now. Yosuke works for a long while, and though you watch him, your eyes get heavy again. He at some point promises he’ll come to bed with you, but you’re not convinced seeing the pile of papers on your desk.

“Ten.”

Your eyes slowly open to look up at Yosuke, as you hadn’t noticed or heard him getting up.

“Mma-?” You tiredly mumble back what you wanted to be words, but it comes out slurred. This comes much to your doctor’s amusement given the precious smile he adopts while watching you so tiredly try to listen to him. He slowly strokes your head while standing by you.

“I should tell you before you drift off again,” he starts. “I know well the others will want to keep visiting you despite your injuries. If you are able to move with the medicine, they might figure you’re fine enough to take them. So, I had to jump the gun and take the liberty of requesting some specific doctors to see you instead, so as to prevent some of the others from seeing you first.”

“Wh…o?”

“I’ve yet to receive word back,” Yosuke admits. “But I promise they’ll be gentle with you. I only wanted you to be aware that you might get a visit sooner than you expected.”

You’re not really happy about it, but choose to take your doctor’s word that it’ll be fine. You give no response in your daze, and simply let your eyelids groggily fall again.

Tomorrow’s another day, you suppose. Perhaps you’ll ask the others about what happened in the hall, if they know. For now, you drift off again, letting yourself be oblivious to everything in sleep.

---

The day starts off much the same way, with you awaking beside Yosuke. You’re still pretty stiff after everything, but admit that the further away you get from Lilah’s horrible visit, the less grueling it is to deal with the aftermath. Still, you’d prefer not to move too quickly after all that. Though, you are rather grumpy that you keep getting over one injury or set of injuries right before dealing with another. You’ve got too much of a mouth and a stubborn sense of curiosity for that not to be the case, you guess.

Yosuke doesn’t do much more when he wakes than continue to coddle you, but for the moment, you just take it. Like yesterday, you’re given a good meal, though Yosuke does deviate from the usual routine of prepping you for the day. He winds up taking you to the showers to have you rinsed with some cool water, likely to help wake and freshen you up. Your now-closed wound is re-dressed, and your bruises are again checked out. They’re still pretty dark, you find, but they’re not as painful as the wounds on your abdomen.

The medicine he gave you still leaves you a bit out of sorts, but not so much that you can’t function or respond. You’re, at best, a little sleepy despite the copious amount of sleep you’ve already had.

You keep wanting to ask your doctor about what happened yesterday, about the yelling and the syringe he took away. It’s not likely he’d have used it on anyone but another prisoner, but you don’t see any of the Numbers being so unruly as to warrant being put under. Your only real guess is that someone freaked out about something, and maybe their doctor wasn’t really handling it well on their own.

If not that, maybe someone was trying to cause another person harm or was trying to run, but you don’t want to think that’s the case. None of your friends have the courage to do so without a reason. Right?

You end up eyeing your surroundings as Yosuke takes you into the hall, freshly cleaned and ready for the day. Nothing’s out of the ordinary, really. There are no scratches on the walls, no people hovering in the hall, no blood, and no debris. There’s no indication anyone was here yesterday.

If Yosuke at all notices you’re curious about it, he’s not bothering to say a thing. His eyes are forward as he ferries you to the gate, though he occasionally glances down and smiles for you.

Every time he does, you look intently up at him trying to parse what he might be thinking. With how he acted yesterday and how he’s brushing it off now, you think he’s hiding something from you, and you don’t much like that.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him without hesitation. Yosuke denies it.

“No more than usual,” is his quick response. His tone hasn’t deviated from its typical politeness. “I suppose I have to get back to working upstairs, but I’m glad we spent some time together.”

“We didn’t really do anything,” you point out, drumming up a laugh from your doctor.

“Did my darling pet want some extra attention? Well, I apologize, but I didn’t want to do anything so soon with you hurting like that.”

You pout. “I meant we just sort of sat there. You found value even in that?”

“Do you find value in doing nothing in particular with your friends?”

You wind up pausing a bit, but sigh and don’t respond. Yosuke chuckles a bit.

“When you love someone, you learn to enjoy any amount of time with that person, no matter what is or is not done in that time.”

“And yet you always just want to use me,” you mutter.

“I can’t help the drive I have. But let me remind you again that you react so preciously to it. Even you get a little bothered now and then, don’t you, pet?”

You go silent in shame, making your doctor smirk a bit. However, he leaves you alone again until you eventually reach the office. Only Monica seems to be there right now, as she is the first to greet you both when your doctor puts you down and knocks on the closed door.

“Not here, mm?” Yosuke questions the woman casually. Monica gives a little shrug.

“Well, Mamita’s kind of busy right now, so I’m in charge,” she answers livelily. Her brown eyes catch you in an instant, and she frowns only for a moment as she sees all your bruises. But, saving face, she immediately perks back up. “Ten, I’m happy to see you made it through your shot! I’m surprised you were gone so long.”

“I was out for a bit last time too,” you mumble in response. Seeing the woman now only sparks a particular reminder. “What about your Number? He mentioned having his shot at the same time as me.”

“Mine?” Monica looks surprised you’d ask. “He’s fine. Poor mijito, he was so tired and loopy a while after. But they didn’t let me keep him the entire time. I only really got to see him a few days later.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head a bit, confused. You know from the brief experience you had last time that they do examinations on prisoners around the same time as their shots, but that didn’t seem like it’d take much longer than a few hours at worst. Why on earth would he have been kept away longer?

Yosuke’s hand then rests on your shoulders, and he frowns slightly at Monica.

“Do let us in, please,” he requests politely. “And try to be mindful about the things you say around our guests.”

Monica blushes and hovers her hand politely over her mouth a bit, catching her mistake. “Oh, right!”

She wastes no time scampering off to open the gate, leaving Yosuke to sigh slightly. He turns you around and keeps both hands affixed to your shoulders. You see that he’s still trying to smile for you.

“Do be careful today, dear,” he bids you. “Don’t exert yourself even if you think the pain isn’t so bad. The meds are helping with that, but all it does is block the pain. You’ll still feel it if you exert yourself and the meds wear off. Alright?”

“I know,” you assure him with lowering brows. “Yosuke, what’s with everyone? You’re acting strange. Did something happen?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you’re brushed off. “Just go as you usually do, alright? You’ve had quite a lot of excitement recently.”

“I’m always going to have to deal with one thing or another here,” you try to fight him on it. “I’m in the middle of a lot of things. I don’t like it, but-“

Your mouth is then lightly covered by your doctor’s hand.

“Rose,” he warns sternly, prompting you to look away and shut up. When you do, Yosuke drops his hand to your chin and tips it up. “Remember the chat we had before you left. Don’t mess things up for yourself, now. Chances can still be slim for someone like you.”

The gate drags open, but Yosuke doesn’t let you move just yet.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you assure him unhappily. “I’m aware.”

“Don’t do or say anything you’ll severely regret, is all I’m saying,” Yosuke reminds you, pressing a sweet thumb to your lips. He then leans down and leaves you with a light kiss on your forehead. “Now go on, dear. I’ll see you tonight.”

Finally, he lets you leave, waiting until you’re shut behind the gate to finally move on. But even when he’s long gone, you remain. As you’d quietly hoped, Monica emerges from the office, peeping her head out to make sure nobody’s nearby before she commits fully to stepping out.

“Ten?” She calls. You grip the bars of the gate and nod. Monica steps closer to you, her brown eyes again fixating on your bruised arms. “What on earth happened to you?”

“Lilah,” you mutter. “She hurts.”

Monica frowns a bit. “I see. I’ve seen some of her imprints on the others, but I wasn’t sure she’d have visited someone like you herself.”

“Well, I guess she had a good time really fucking me over. A lot went on, but I probably can’t tell you.” You stay mindful. You then roll your eyes around a bit in thought. “Um, is Pickle—I mean Eleven alright?”

Monica giggles a bit. “Pickle? Is that what he likes to be called?”

You look down. “Yeah.”

“He’s just fine,” Monica assures you with a gentle nod. “He’s around somewhere. You took much longer to get back here than he did, so the effects have already worn off for him by now. You, however, still seem a little off.”

“Pain meds,” you remind her. “Lots. But I slept all day yesterday.”

You then blush a little. “Um, Yosuke didn’t ask you to see me anytime soon, did he?”

“Huh?” Monica raises a brow. “No, not at all. Why would he have?”

“I think I remember him saying something about asking some of the gentler doctors about visiting me so that the rougher ones wouldn’t so soon,” you explain awkwardly. “But I guess he doesn’t want you talking to me right now.”

“He’s wary of me, isn’t he?” Monica laughs this off, but you know well it’s just a show for the cameras.

“I guess so,” You sigh. “I dunno, he’s been real weird today.”

“It’s better you not think about all that right now,” Monica shakes her head. “Go on and see who’s around. Maybe seeing your friends will take your mind off of things. I have some paperwork to organize anyway.”

“Right.” Your hands slip off the bars and you see the woman off before turning back to face the hall with all the doors. You’re not sure where to go, but decide to pop into one of the rooms closer to you, starting with the theater.

You expected for a movie to be playing or for some of the others to just be casually gathered here, but it’s fairly empty aside from two bodies.

Sitting on the stage are both twins, both distracted by one another enough not to notice you immediately. Three’s looking down at the floor below her hovering feet as they hang along the edge of the stage. Two’s eyes are simply fixated on his hands resting on his knees.

When you step closer and call out to them eagerly, your slightly uplifted mood dampens again when both twins look up with these really morose expressions. Briefly, though, they catch sight of your battered body and switch to slight shock. Three especially lets her lips part as if to say something, but only stares quietly.

“Ten?” Two is the first to speak out as you get close to the stage. “Your arms!”

“Oh,” you look down a bit. “Um, yeah. I had to see Lilah.”

“What?” Three sounds off in disbelief, though her word sounds more like a whisper. She clutches at her wrist in her lap. “But she never seemed interested in you. Why?”

“A lot of reasons,” you keep it brief. You explain to them what it was and why you can’t really talk about it, but neither twin seems happy about this answer. You realize you’re going to have to go through this spiel with everyone you see today, but so be it.

Three turns her head toward her brother, brows upturned. “Y-you don’t think she’d…”

“A special case means she probably still wouldn’t see you,” Two assures her, as if having read her mind. You notice his tone with her is a bit more exasperated than it is comforting, and you’re not exactly happy about that. “Anyway, that sounds pretty rough, Ten. You at least got taken care of, right?”

“Relatively,” you suppose. “I’m on meds right now that are tiring me the hell out. I guess that’s making me look even more pitiful than usual.”

You then look up at Two and frown. “So this is how it’s like? What you’ve dealt with all this time?”

He looks away and puffs up a cheek, uncomfortable at the question. “Yeah. More or less. But it’s not important right now.”

“We overheard you were dealing with something,” Three admits when she catches her brother’s response, thus promptly switching gears. “From Gale.”

You guess they pulled through with Yosuke’s request for your sake. You expected Gale would do it for you, but didn’t anticipate Yosuke would have actually asked them to. You guess it was nice of him to have.

“Nobody thought I was in trouble, I hope,” you try to stay on track. “I know I worry people when I go missing for longer than usual.”

Two shakes his head. “We’re always gonna be concerned, but I don’t think anyone was freaking out yet. I’m pretty sure it was just a few days. I just don’t know how many.”

You let out a long breath of air. What a relief.

Three fidgets with her hands a bit while avoiding your gaze. “Um, Ten, I’m really glad you’re safe, but right now is kind of a bad time for us.”

You raise your brows. “Oh? I’m sorry. I mean I figured with those faces you were making that something was up.”

“Sorry,” Two tries to smile a bit. “We’ve just been having a rough talk.”

“You mean argument,” Three scowls a bit, but doesn’t look his way. Two sighs.

“Anyway, the others are in the rec room right now. I think Cyrus and Eight are doing their own separate things, though. I haven’t seen much of them today.”

Your mind flashes back to Lilah’s threat about Eight, and you shudder a bit thinking about it. Though, you try to push out that what-if scenario and keep focused.

“Nobody’s hurt, right?” You question, arousing confusion from both twins.

“Hurt?” Asks Three with a worried glance. “Why would they be?”

“I dunno,” you try not to further her panic. “I heard something while I was in my room yesterday. Some kind of commotion. You guys didn’t hear it?”

“I didn’t,” Two shakes his head, and Three follows suit.

No, you suppose they wouldn’t have. Whatever happened would have been near your room, not anywhere near theirs. Still…

“Well, I guess that’s good, then.” You almost feel relieved, though the mystery still remains. “Anyway, sorry for bothering you. I don’t know what you two are talking about, but, you know, try not to kill each other.”

Two laughs a bit in a way that sounds more like a breath. “No promises, friend. But yeah, we won’t.”

Three finds it much less amusing, giving nothing but a bothered sigh.

You see the pair off and leave them to their devices, supposing there’s no point in intervening with whatever they’re trying to figure out. Though, you’re not too pleased to see how it’s going so far if Three’s being stubborn, while her brother is, from how he looked, stuck not knowing what to really say.

You wanted to stick around and ask about Pickle, but decide to take Monica’s word that he’s just fine and presume that he’s just around with the other Numbers in the rec room. But, knowing that Eight and Cyrus are alone makes you wonder what they might be doing. You glance over at the library and music room, supposing that Eight might be in one of those.

Maybe it’s because of his long-time experience with Lilah that you sort of want to reach out to him first. But you’d hate to bother him if he’s busy. Though, Cyrus might just be meditating if he’s alone, so perhaps bothering him might not be the best option either. A part of you then thinks maybe it’s best to try joining the others in the rec room in that case, but somehow you find yourself walking to the music room first anyway.

Stepping around on the floor like this and feeling its cold surface on your pads makes you realize how fortunate you are to be able to walk on your own again. You’d had to tread carefully before being taken away for your shot, but with the extra days spent confined to a bed, you hadn’t fully noticed you were able to walk easily on your own even when Lucius forced you to walk to the hall. You guess it’s those little things that bring you some semblance of relief here. Hopefully you’ll get over this painful hump too.

When the doors part, there’s no music playing in the air. You admittedly feel disappointed by the silence since some kind of beautiful noise would probably help soothe you right now, but you just shrug it off and press on into the room regardless. When you briefly eye the volley of instruments on the shelf, there’s no indication of any one missing.

You expect the room to be empty, then. But it isn’t.

Upon stepping past the big L-shaped cabinet, you see Cyrus toward the back of the room, eyeing a few random accessories he likely pulled from one of the shelves. His back is toward you, and he doesn’t appear to have really heard you entering.

“Cyrus?”

His back straightens upon hearing your voice, but when he turns, he doesn’t smile. Like the twins, he immediately recognizes the welts all over your arms and legs, even from a distance, and looks on with worry.

“Ten?” He calls out quietly. You try to rub one of your arms sheepishly while walking closer to him, but the dulled soreness reminds you not to. Upon reaching your place before him, you try explaining to Cyrus what you had to the twins, but even when you try reassuring him, his concern doesn’t falter.

Gently, he takes your arm and runs a thumb along one of the bruises, examining it by touch.

“I never thought she’d do that to you,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be fine,” you try to tell him. “I might hurt when the meds wear off, but Yosuke’s trying to take care of me at least. It’s one of the few times I’ll allow it.”

You then notice he’s holding something in his other hand that you don’t quite recognize. Something that looks kind of like a large black clamp with a short set of handles and a spring mechanism in the middle of it.

“What were you doing in here?” You try to keep his mind off of your injuries. “I’ve never seen you in here by yourself.”

Cyrus drops your arm and brings the clamp up before his chest, eyeing it a bit.

“Oh, I was kind of shuffling around the stuff they have here,” he tells you, attempting to keep his tone light. “I had been reading with Eight earlier, but he was feeling pretty grumpy about something. He didn’t really wanna talk about it just yet, so I left him alone and let him think it over for a bit.”

You frown. “Sounds concerning. He’s not usually like that. Not anymore, anyway.”

“He’s just not ready to open up about it yet, I guess,” Cyrus shrugs a little as he turns the clamp in his hands while examining it. “I was trying to meditate in here because some of the quieter rooms were occupied, but my mind ended up wandering a little, and so I decided to poke around more with some of the accessories here. I don’t know a whole lot about all of them, but this thing in particular is a capo.”

“A what?” You tilt your head. “What’s it for?”

Cyrus smiles a bit and offers you the clamp, which you take. In your hands, it feels smooth and almost plasticy. It’s not super hard, but the clamp mechanism is pretty strong and requires a bit of effort to open.

“Guitar,” is the answer you’re given. “In short, you clamp it on its neck to change the pitch of what you’re playing. It’s interesting stuff.”

You look on at Cyrus with a raised brow. “You play?”

“Not at all,” the young man laughs it off a little. “I’ve been around a few times to mess around with the instruments here, but I’m not really profound at any of them. I didn’t feel some kind of spark like some others, so even if maybe I once might have played something, I certainly don’t know how anymore. I guess I could have studied more if I wanted, but when Eight arrived, he sort of took this place over, and I usually just let him be.”

“You haven’t studied all these weird accessories either?”

Cyrus shrugs a bit. “Like I said, I know some, but not many. Musicians must have it pretty hard to have to keep up with so much.”

You smile a bit, but feel it’s a pretty pitiful attempt. “I’d imagine anything you could master requires a lot of hard work. I mean, being a doctor for instance. Maybe a bad example, but you know what I mean.”

Cyrus watches you with his lips slightly parted as you speak, but he stays quiet.

“I spoke with some of the girls about that kind of thing before my shot,” you admit. “I feel weird not having a skill of my own. But it’s nice to have tried a lot of things here. I’m surprised Eight knows so much, though. He seems pretty adept, all things considered.”

Cyrus finally answers. “Were you looking for him?”

You walk past Cyrus and put the capo back in one of the bins on the shelf. “Maybe. I guess because I feel bad knowing what he’s had to put up with, and because I wanted to know just how he put up with it at all. But I don’t wanna bother him if he’s busy.”

“Ten…”

You keep your back turned to Cyrus as he remains worried.

“Seeing her was stressful,” you admit quietly. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Dreaming of things that are fucking with my head because I don’t know whether I know them or not. Hearing voices I shouldn’t. Getting in trouble for things because I can’t stop prying. But I’m pushing through, I promise. I’ll be fine.”

You feel Cyrus’ hand on your shoulder then.

“You told me not to say ‘I’m fine’ if I’m not,” he reminds you. “So don’t be afraid to admit you’re struggling either. Okay?”

Turning around, you catch the young man’s face unchanged from before. You linger on his profile for a moment and want to try reassuring him again, but seeing him close to you sends a wave of some terrible, overwhelming feeling in your heart. You’re not sure why, but keeping things together is difficult all of a sudden now that you’re with someone so close to you. It’s hard to help yourself. You wind up reaching up and hugging him tight, burying your head in his shoulder.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Cyrus hesitates to touch you back.

“A little,” you hardly deny it, feeling the slight pang of discomfort in your abdomen with all the stretching and movement. “But I don’t care. I really needed a touch that wasn’t a doctor’s.”

You grip him tighter. “I had to beg Yosuke to hold me after what happened. I hated letting myself do that. So, I’m sorry, but…”

Cyrus says nothing, but you soon feel him gently wrap his arms around you and return your embrace.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs against your ear. “I get it.”

You don’t really let each other go for a good while, and even though your arms start to hurt a bit, you refuse to leave Cyrus’ warmth until you’re ready. You feel bad making him comfort you like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And after everything he went through with thinking he lost you, perhaps he’s not so hesitant to be held either.

Eventually, though, you do pull away, and you thank him gently for his help.

“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” He asks. You nod, and let your arms slip away from him.

The both of you wind up taking a seat down against the wall closest to you, by the cabinets and with the piano on the platform to your right. You have to take it a little easy when getting on the floor, but it isn’t such an arduous task with the pills still affecting you.

“I saw the twins were talking,” you admit once settled, legs out while Cyrus’ are crossed. “I don’t know if they were trying to have some kind of discussion to fix their problems, or if they were just casually talking until it turned into an argument, but they both seemed pretty down.”

“They’ve still mostly been avoiding each other,” Cyrus notes unhappily. “When Pickle was out of commission, Three tried to talk more to Two, but he was dodging her a lot.”

“She’s the one who tried?” You’re surprised. Maybe she didn’t just completely brush your advice aside.

“Yeah, but she’s still being weird about it from what I heard,” Cyrus explains. “But I can’t do much with that because it’s between them in the end. I keep trying to tell Two to get in touch with her when he can, but he’s struggling with it. He’s not really great with feelings. And so I guess now that they’re actually talking, even with all the advice, it’s not working out.”

“Will it ever?” You question sourly. “I don’t want to see anyone in this group fighting again.”

Cyrus looks down. “It happens.”

When you realize you might have struck a chord with him, you start to stammer. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright.” Cyrus tries to flash an assuaging smile, but it’s still riddled with quiet hurt. “The other group had a lot of conflict that never got resolved. We were all so stressed out, but we didn’t consider that any of our words to one another at any moment could have been our last. It’s another part of why I fought so hard for all of us in this group to be together. But I’m not the glue holding us together here. Everyone’s participating, contributing in their own way. It’s better that way. But that doesn’t mean there still won’t be rockiness now and then.”

“And how do you manage it if it doesn’t ever go away?” You question. “Just ignore people?”

“I wouldn’t leave anyone in the dark, but I would give space where it’s needed,” Cyrus suggests. “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around the idea, but some people stay bitter, angry, or miserable no matter what you do. Sadness is a stubborn kind of misery, and I’ve had to watch it consume others. Bitterness is another stubborn kind of misery. When Eight was pretty bad with his attitude, I got so frustrated, but I let him be. I now know how much he hurts like I do, if in his own way, and for his own reasons. But you gotta realize, it took a lot of time for us to get to the point we’re at now.

“I haven’t really met anyone who was so stubborn they couldn’t eventually be talked to, but I’m sure there are people like that. Maybe people who won’t ever open up to but a small few. It’s frustrating, but sometimes you can’t do much more than extend your hand. In Eight’s case, I found someone who didn’t truly want to be as bitter as he was. He eventually let go and opened up. But other people might not be as receptive. If they swat your helping hand away, there’s not much more you can do. And in some cases, you just have to let people blow off steam before they can deal with you again.”

He shakes his head. “But don’t let me be your guide on this kind of thing. Even I get angry and bothered by some attitudes. I’ve snapped before, so I could probably do it again if pushed. I try not to let things get to me, but I’m still flawed. I still get angry. And in Eight’s case, my anger was long-forming. I forgave him so much, but at some point, I just got frustrated. But even when I was mad, I felt guilty for being that way.”

You lean your head back against the wall. “Well, I hope the twins can figure it out. I talked to them both, but they still seem like they’ll take a while on a compromise. I feel bad for Pickle being in the middle of it.”

“Pickle’s a happy-go-lucky kind of guy,” Cyrus shrugs his shoulders. “He seems at least a little self-aware, but he’s still apparently easy to offend sometimes.”

“He snapped at Three the other day, but then apologized for it,” you remark, recounting the memory unhappily. “I guess even he doesn’t have it in him to hurt people. By the way, how is he? Monica said he was pretty out of it after his shot.”

“Very much so,” Cyrus laughs softly. “He’s in the rec room right now, completely fine. He was pretty wobbly when he came back, though. Kind of like you were, actually. He didn’t have any memory lapses either. Anyway, we just kind of helped him get through his last bits of recovery. He pulled through, so that’s a relief.”

He turns his head to you. “What about you? Was your shot okay? Minus the, uh, Lilah bit.”

You frown. “No.”

“No?” Cyrus looks hurt, leaving you feeling guilty. Still, you don’t want to hide away how awful it was, even if you can’t be specific.

“I kept waking up again,” you explain. “Every time I did there was something new and terrible happening. I shouldn’t talk about what, but I got abused a lot.”

Your companion gives a hesitant look. “…Abused?”

“Both ways,” you struggle to admit, avoiding his gaze. “Even before I had to go see Lilah.”

Cyrus’ hand reaches over to clutch at yours then. Rather than let it stay limp, you worm your fingers between his, grateful for the touch.

“It’s over for now,” you try to assure him. “But I was scared in the moment. In a lot of pain during and after. Yosuke was pretty pissed about it. I guess me cozying up to him kept him occupied, at least. All he cares about now is getting me back on my feet so he can sweep me off them every time he sees me.”

You sigh. “I wish I could tell you everything. I wish I could tell all of you what’s been going on. But I don’t need another injury right now.”

“I hope you’re not saying you’d risk it just to reach us,” Cyrus warns.

“I’m just frustrated. It’ll pass.” You then look his way and try to smile. “Anyway, how’s that hair doing? It looks good.”

Though he seems reserved about changing the subject, Cyrus doesn’t linger on your woes for now and lets the topic change.

“Fine,” he remarks while using his free hand to smooth back some of his strands. “It doesn’t look like Pickle cut a lot, but it does make a bit of a difference. It feels different.”

“You said it was like the hair you came here with, yeah?”

Cyrus nods. “It’s…weird to look in the mirror and see myself like this again. I think I’m a little older than I was, because I definitely remember having a rounder face.”

“Rounder?” You chuckle a bit. “You, chubby?”

“I don’t mean chubby, but maybe more, I dunno, babyish? It’s not the best word I can use, but it’s all I can think of. It wasn’t a major difference, but I do remember that I didn’t used to look like this. Not entirely.”

You then frown. He’s not joking around about it, not even cracking a pretend smile over the fact.

“How…how long have you been here?”

“Beats me,” Cyrus answers glumly. “I don’t think I want to know. Counting the days the one time I did was depressing.”

You bite your lip. “I doubt you’re the only one who’s tried that. I think it’s possible that anyone else before you could have.”

Cyrus scrunches up his brows. “I hope not.”

“The twins have been here almost as long as you. Did they look different then?”

Cyrus closes his eyes and tries to think as hard as he can. “It’s different to know yourself than it is to remember others, but I think they’ve always looked kind of, I dunno, young? ‘Immature’ is a rude word, while ‘innocent’ isn’t exactly comfortable to use here. But they’ve always given off that kind of look.”

His aqua eyes open back up, and he looks over at you. “They were always pretty energetic after getting past the first shock of realizing where they were. They were a lot more out there about their energy when I first met them. Now they seem mellow by comparison, even though you’ve seen them when they get all excited and hyper. They express themselves and rationalize in ways they didn’t always used to. They argued more, were super loud, ran around a lot. I guess I never paid so much attention to it, but things really have changed. Though maybe all the misery has played a part. It’s worn us down so much.”

Your heart skips a beat. You’d hate to think they’ve been here long enough to age in this facility, but…Yosuke did mention you’d be spending the rest of your life here. You just never thought that it’d be longer than a few years. Call that pessimism, but hearing about all the deaths that have gone on behind the scenes with time, it’s not easy to assume you’d actually grow older.

In part, you’d like to ask Cyrus about the aging, but no—you won’t bother bringing it up more. He’s probably already thought about this plenty of times already. It’s not a good idea to peck at him about it further.

“Weird,” you brush it off with a meaningless comment. “I just thought I’d ask. It’s interesting to think you used to look so different.”

“Yeah…” Cyrus seems a little distracted now, and you again are left feeling guilty for arousing such terrible thoughts in him. You two end up going quiet for a long while after. However, neither of you really pulls your hand away, so you stay held together.

It’s comforting after all that you went through. Even if you were doing better, being here now makes you realize how much more you needed than just what Yosuke gave you. Even something as simple as this. You hope Cyrus is enjoying it too, even despite the difficult emotions stirring beneath his exterior.

Seeing Cyrus from the corner of your eye as he closes his own again only makes your heart sink, because suddenly, with all the focus on miseries, you’re remembering that there’s something you haven’t said to him. You didn’t think he was ready to hear it, and even when he seemed to be getting better from his initial shock of losing you, there weren’t a whole lot of instances where you two had time alone.

Things have been hectic since you returned from your confinement. Maybe it is your fault to a degree, but why sit there and do nothing?

You wonder if Cyrus once willed himself to fight like you. To pry. To ask. Now he seems so defeated by this place that he’s afraid to act. You feel for him. And, really, you wonder whether you’ll someday give up too.

“Is something wrong?”

You look over and realize you started to squeeze his hand tightly, prompting his attention.

“I…” You hesitate. “Well, sort of. But that depends on how good you are at taking bad news.”

Cyrus raises a brow, wary. “Bad news?”

Are you being too heavy with it even with a vague allusion? Maybe you’d better soften the hit. “It’s something that mainly affects me.”

Your companion thinks a moment, but shakes his head. “Don’t worry about offending my sensibilities or something. If you need to get it out, then you should.”

“Well,” you bite your lip. “I only hesitated because I worried how you might react. Especially after everything that’s happened. You were really hurt, Cyrus. And so much keeps happening to me that I’d hate to keep hurting you.”

He again pauses and tries to think on something you can’t figure out. Despite looking away and seeming hesitant, he presses you again. Though, he finally lets your hand go and returns his elbow to his knee as he leans forward.

“I have to deal with a lot anyway,” he tries to bargain. “I guess knowing that people here will eventually fade away or be hurt makes any other kind of news pale in comparison.”

“But it’ll still hurt,” you warn. “I’m sorry.”

Cyrus’ face isn’t really visible anymore with him hunched over. “Yeah, things still hurt. But we pick up the pieces one way or another. I struggle, but I’ll make do in the end. So, tell me. I might feel guilty for stressing you out if you keep it in now.”

You try to make a joke, but even that feels pitiful. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t have told you I had something to say.”

Cyrus doesn’t really laugh, but you didn’t expect him to anyway. In your lap, your hands curl tightly, one in the other. You really don’t know how the hell to phrase this.

“Um, well,” you hesitate. “When I was away, I learned something about my body. It did something most of the girls here haven’t had their own bodies do since they arrived here. And, with a lot of discussion, I realized that it meant something I’ve always been afraid of.”

You try to glimpse at the young man, but he remains still with his face still out of your sight.

“I…” Why is this so hard? You have to just force it out. “I can still get pregnant.”

You again look to Cyrus for a response, but it seems he’s not going to answer anytime soon. If anything, you think he’s tensed up a bit. So, you try to lessen the blow as best you can.

“I might be okay, and if anything, I was told my system’s so fucked because of whatever they’ve done to us that it would take a lot of effort for me to, um, you know. Everything’s so much slower, so much lower in chance. I could be fine.”

Do you believe that yourself?

Still, Cyrus’ silence leaves you unnerved, and you reach out a hand to touch his shoulder. Calling his name arouses no response, so you try to lean forward to meet his face. When you do, you’re taken aback to see that he isn’t angry or teary or anything grand. He’s just quietly staring at the floor, wide-eyed, probably shaken and letting his mind run. Only when you’re at his level do his bright eyes shift to the side, toward you.

“Cyrus, give me your hands,” you bid him gently. “Okay?”

“What?”

You turn your body to face him, crossing your legs like his. Promptly, you motion your hands forward for him to take them, and though he turns to you with a mixture of shock and confusion on his face, his clenched fists unfurl, and he turns to you as well.

You take both his hands as you had once before, but watching Cyrus’ eyes now avoid you pierces at your heart. Still, you try to keep your mood even.

“Yosuke doesn’t know,” you tell him. “But there’s no way to hide it from him forever, and I fear what he might do when he finds out since he’s so hellbent on making me his, even if with that. Still, I don’t have control over him. All I can do is worry about what will happen to me after. And while I can’t be sure what will, I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’m a little softer, but I’ve toughed out a lot as it is. If I go away, I’m sure I’ll come back.”

You wonder if The Overseer and Lucius would let you die at all if you were to get pregnant, given the former at least wants you alive to be studied. Would they wipe your memory if doing so is risky? And if they don’t, will you even see the others again? Even if your body and mind are fine, you could still be ripped away from this place and dumped into another. Somehow, that scares you more.

It’s difficult to comfort someone about the possibilities when you yourself are so frightened by them. And Cyrus isn’t really foolish about it—these are things he likely understands. But it’s because it’s you that he…

“What if you’re different?” He shakes you from your thoughts. “What if you’re not you? Like Sienna?”

You frown a bit. “I don’t know. I can’t predict that. It’ll be hard, but I’m sure we can work things out. You can help me get back to who I used to be.”

“And what if they take your memory?”

You pause and let your lips part, but struggle for an answer.

Cyrus’ brows scrunch up a bit as he looks down.

“There’s a lot I’ve taken, but there’s still a lot that I struggle to,” he reminds you. “I don’t know how much more I can take before I break, or just what will finally make me. I try hard to keep myself aligned and intact, but you saw how bad I was when you were gone. To lose you again…to lose anyone like that again…I just…”

He trails off, and you feel your heart sinking. You want to tear up, but fight against it and try to keep composed.

“I know,” you affirm gently, squeezing his hands. “I want this to end. But it won’t. There are things we can’t prevent, but we can always find a way to get past them once they happen. If I forget you, I want you and Nine to stay with me. If I have to learn this all over again, I will. I might not remember you, but maybe a part of me will still feel attached to you both enough for it to hardly matter.

“And I won’t leave you. Because even if I leave this place, I’ll still be with you. Even if I lose my memory, I will still be here for you. No matter what happens, I don’t think we’re ever going to fully lose each other. I’m too stubborn to let myself lose anyone. And with how much you’ve fought to keep us all together, I know you are too.”

The both of you grow quiet again, and you watch as Cyrus tries to parse through your words carefully. His face remains tense, but now his eyes have closed. Only when he is able to gather his wits again does he open them.

“I’m sorry,” his voice, even with how low it is, shakes you. “I shouldn’t distract you with my own worries when you’re still struggling right now. Especially with that. I can’t imagine how frightening it is to think about being used that way, being hurt like that.”

You shake your head. “Cyrus, you can be afraid if you want to be afraid. But as I can’t let fear rule me, I want it not to rule you either. I’m still here, so we should just be happy about that much. We should cherish the time we have with everyone, and with each other.”

Again, Cyrus remains silent as he ponders on this. His face is no longer tense, but hurt. You aren’t sure what to say to help him, but you decide the silence is necessary for the moment, and so you let him sort it out. When he’s ready, he squeezes your hands and looks back at you.

“I’m trying,” he promises. “And I’m glad that we’ve been able to talk like this. It hurts, but you ground me all the same. Thank you for trying so hard for me.”

You try smiling. “You’ve tried hard for me too. I’m just returning the favor. I care about you, Cyrus. You always seem to want to take care of me, but I wanna take care of you too. And so long as I’m still here, and am still the me that I am right now, I always will.”

Cyrus freezes a bit, staring at you with his brows partly upturned and mouth just barely agape. Though he struggles again with speaking, he doesn’t let himself stay quiet for too long.

His hands again squeeze at yours, and he refuses to avert his gaze again as he speaks softly.

“Ten…I-“

Before he can say more, you’re both loudly interrupted by the sound of someone rushing into the room. The doors part, and a figure stumbles against the edge of the giant cabinet, standing by the opening between it and the wall.

You and Cyrus promptly turn your heads in that direction, shocked at the unexpected interruption. Because of all the tension, you panicked a little at their emergence, but luckily, it’s only Six.

She’s got her arm against the cabinet, leaning against it while her other arm holds her stomach as she breathes in a few puffs of air.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I’ve been looking all over for you,” she tries to speak. You and Cyrus promptly drop your hands away, but It’s Cyrus who answers first.

“Six? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lilah,” Six tells him with a tense look on her face. “She wants all of us in the rec room right goddamn now.”

You and Cyrus exchange confused glances, but Six doesn’t bother explaining more and simply repeats her call to you before retreating. She’s in a hurry, you wager, and with her out of breath you also think she might have been running around to get everyone in the area. If it’s dire, then you won’t bother trying to linger.

Both you and Cyrus rise off the floor, with him helping you up when the soreness in your bottom makes it kind of painful to get up suddenly.

You continue to be distraught watching his worn-down face, and so you press a palm to his cheek and lean up to kiss him in the hopes that it will help.

“Stay focused,” you softly remind the young man. “You gonna be okay?”

Cyrus gives you a longing look, but eventually nods. “Yeah. We should go.”

The both of you don’t bother with the usual rule of not being in the hall together, given the urgency of the matter at hand. Nobody’s around anyway, so you’re not met with any resistance on your way to the rec room.

When you enter, the first thing you see is the Numbers all sitting by one another on the floor, backs turned toward the door. There are two rows, with The twins, Pickle, Eight, and Violet in the back, and everyone else up front. You find this arrangement alarming and strange, and can’t help but quickly try to examine the rest of the room to gather what’s happening.

Lilah’s standing by the rightmost couch with her arms folded and her piercing, icy eyes impatiently glaring your way the moment you’re visible. Her vicious stare makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to remind yourself she’s not here for you. At least, you hope not. For some reason you feel guilty despite knowing you’re innocent, and that you’ve already served your time with her.

Cyrus looks on at Lilah with a focused stare, but says nothing. You aren’t sure what the woman wants other than for you to sit with the others, but you wind up immensely distracted when your eyes glide down, and see someone kneeling by her ankles, to her side.

Your eyes widen when they catch sight of a young man, arms bound behind him by a cuff, and mouth covered and stuffed with a cloth gag.

His tousled short hair is a somewhat saturated kind of yellow-blond, perhaps a bit more so than Blue’s, and toned more golden. His eyes are a deep, near emerald green from what you can see, but it’s hard to tell from behind the other Numbers since the young man is so far away.

There’s no time to react to it, though. When you’re rallied by Lilah to step up front and take your place somewhere, you and Cyrus don’t hesitate to do so. Only then do you get a much closer look of the boy, but at the same time, only then are you put off even further by his appearance.

His eyes are sharply focused on you two now, like daggers. The boy’s biting hard into the cloth, nose flaring as he slowly sucks in frustrated breaths. His blond brows are furrowed hard, though you can only imagine what he might be furious at if not just Lilah or the fact that he’s confined here. Given that there are welts along his neck, you have a good picture of just how “welcomed” he’s been by the woman.

Evidently, he must understand his position if he’s this bitter already. You were afraid during your first moments here, but him? He’s enraged. It’s off-putting, to say the least.

The boy’s skin from behind all the welts is a bit peachy, but certainly not glowing like others who share the same tone. His body is dressed in a tan-colored uniform, but you can tell he’d been putting up a struggle before this with how crooked his shirt neck is, and how one pants leg is resting higher on his calf than the other, which remains at his ankle.

While on his knees, he observes the lot of you before him, eyes darting about between each head present. From what you can see, nobody is exactly comfortable making eye contact with him. And every time he glances your way, you quickly shift your gaze so as not to meet his. Maybe you dislike confrontation, or maybe the boy’s look only shakes you. Regardless, something tells you he’s not the least bit friendly.

“Listen up, runts,” Lilah calls everyone to attention. “We don’t normally do this kind of grand introduction, but in this case I feel the need to make an exception for your sakes. This here is your new little playmate. He’ll be your new Twelve from now on.”

New? Was there an old one? Though, given that the others only really knew up to Jade, perhaps Lilah meant another preceding group. She’s been here long enough for this to just be a procedural thing embedded in her head.

Lilah kicks the side of her boot against the young man’s thigh. He sharply shifts his emerald eyes to his right in scorn, though he doesn’t bother turning his head.

“And as you can see, we’ve got him restrained,” Lilah goes on. You notice not one Number near or behind you has bothered to make a single move or sound, knowing well how Lilah is.

“He’s still getting the hang of things here. Maybe he’s paranoid, maybe he’s just angry. I don’t care much for the whys, but until he learns his place, this is going to be how we deal with him. We’d usually remove these restraints when you’re here, but I’m leaving him like this with you for a reason. I suggest you don’t try to free him, because he will bite.”

She looks down at Twelve and promptly grips the hair on his scalp to yank him back, forcing him to sit up rather than hunch over. In pain, he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out heavy breaths through his nose.

“Won’t you, whelp?” Lilah sneers and shakes Twelve’s head slightly from side to side. She does not bother keeping her attention on him for much longer, though, and promptly releases his head and puts her hand on her hip.

“You runts got that?”

Unanimously, the other Numbers let out restrained murmurs of agreement in response to her demand, but it hardly pleases the woman. She frowns.

“Move aside, then.”

She motions her other hand forward toward the middle of the two rows of Numbers, bidding them to split so she can walk forward. Without hesitation, the others do so, and Lilah walks down the path until she gets to the door. There, she stops and turns her body just enough to look over at Eight, who’s already got his head turned toward her, brows furrowed and green eyes watching her with a piercing glare.

Lilah looks as though she wants to say something, but all she does is smirk devilishly at her Number and immediately go back to facing forward to walk off. When you look over at the others, you see that Three is clutching Five’s arm tightly, while the others are simply looking off in random directions while trying to parse what just happened. Only Eight’s eyes remain toward the door, one of his hands curled up into a tight fist along the floor.

Nobody really moves at first, instead exchanging glances with one another, then looking over at Twelve still on the floor. The boy still remains scornful as he watches the others.

“Should we…do something?” Six asks first, staring at him with worry. Five turns to the young woman and frowns.

“Well I don’t want to leave him like that. It’s demeaning.”

“Lilah said he was rowdy,” Eight reminds you all as he finally lets his attention shift, voice low and tone embittered. You don’t much like how he’s acting. “She could easily have been lying, but I’m not sure.”

You notice that Twelve has not bothered to move and is simply observing everyone. You’re frankly creeped out by the look he’s giving off, but have no clue what action to take now.

For just a moment, his eyes wander over to Three, and she catches his gaze just long enough for her to tighten her grip on Five’s sleeve and blink rapidly before looking away. You’re sure that if Twelve’s attitude matches just his gaze, his presence won’t do much for her nerves.

Seeing him now only makes you wonder if this is the one The Overseer and Lucius went off to get. You’d doubted it was Pickle given his frailer physique—a boy like him couldn’t possibly do that much damage, could he?

No, you just didn’t know what to think. But seeing Twelve before you now leads you to assume that it indeed was him, not Pickle. It’s been a little while since Pickle came, and the timing seems to match Twelve’s emergence much better.

But you certainly don’t like his look. If he was trouble before losing his memory, could he still be trouble even after? He seems to be giving off these crude vibes, and then there was Lilah’s warning…

You don’t disagree it’s demeaning to be here like this. Not once did you ever see anyone restrained while roaming around the recreational areas. In this group, only you were brought in like that because of Yosuke and his stupid rules. It was a short-lived embarrassment, but still a terrible ordeal nonetheless.

You can’t help but bring that up. But you’re so unsure of what to say while watching Twelve’s bitter face that you only let out,

“At least take the gag away.”

“I dunno, he might bite,” Blue shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “Lilah said so. Maybe she wasn’t being figurative.”

“You think you’re gonna lose a finger or something?” Violet scoffs. “Ten’s right. This is embarrassing.”

Three winces “But…!”

She seems just as off-put as you.

“But nothing. Let’s at least hear what he has to say before we make judgements,” Pickle picks up when the girl trails off. “I was pretty shy at first and I know it was awkward, but I’m sure if we at least try being nice, it’ll be fine.”

Two scratches at the back of his head. “I’m uh, not so sure. He looks less like he’s shy and more like he’s about to murder someone. No offense, dude.”

“I’d be mad too if Lilah was my doctor,” Lav adds, though this makes Violet pout.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Lav retorts. “Lilah’s a terrible person. I pity those who have to put up with her.”

Cyrus looks your way, bright eyes full of sympathy. “Even Ten wasn’t safe from her.”

This remark only draws everyone’s attention toward you, and they all pause a moment as they observe your limbs. You tug at the hem of your gown a bit, twisting the fabric around and looking away.

“I’m fine,” you again assure them upon seeing their worried glances. “Anyway, I’m not the focus right now. Twelve is.”

You’ve never had to see another Number come in before, since Pickle had been inducted into the group when you were still in the middle of being tortured by The Overseer and Lucius. It’s no more unusual than any other new unusual instance, you find. Maybe you thought you’d have a bigger reaction to it, but with all that’s been going on, you simply don’t feel much beyond unsettled because of the boy’s attitude.

“Well, who’s gonna do it?” Six questions to the others. “Or should I?”

“I’ll deal with it,” Cyrus offers, getting himself off the floor and stepping forward a bit to kneel down by Twelve. Carefully, he undoes the boy’s gag, but no words come from his mouth once Cyrus frees him and leaves the rag on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Cyrus asks him, but Twelve remains quiet, watching. Cyrus stands up and steps aside, giving the young man room to breathe. The others watch him intently, but he remains unmoved.

“Is he able to talk?” Five inquires, concerned.

“You don’t have to worry about us, you know,” Pickle urges. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“We’re all prisoners here,” Blue adds with a nod. “I dunno just how much Lilah told you, guy, but all these rooms here are usually pretty safe from the doctors. They don’t come around much unless there’s a reason to.”

Twelve remains with his guard up regardless, and continues to say nothing. His lips stay closed tight.

“This is pointless if he’s just gonna sit there,” Six remarks with a fold of her arms. “Guy’s almost as stubborn as you were, Eight.”

“I’m not so sure stubborn is the only word you can use in this case,” Is the gray-clothed young man’s reply as he watches Twelve closely. “He’s agitated. We should leave him alone.”

“Yeah? Are we supposed to just leave him like that and shut him out?” Violet questions him, but Eight doesn’t know how to answer. So instead, she seeks his opposite’s advice. “I dunno, Cyrus?”

“I…” Cyrus hesitates as he stares at Twelve. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to leave him in the dark, though.”

He addresses the boy on the floor next.

“Twelve, do you want to be called that? The doctors here assign us numbers instead of names, but some of us prefer to make our own names. Something they can’t take from us.”

Twelve says nothing.

“God, this is pointless,” Blue groans. “What if we do for him what we did with Charlie early on? Give him some premade answers to choose from.”

“Well, we don’t even know if he can or can’t talk yet,” Five refuses the idea. “I’d hate to be assumptive.”

Three shakes her head while still clinging to Five. “I don’t like how he looks. Let’s leave him like that. What if he does something bad?”

Twelve glances at her, and for a moment, you think you see his expression change. For just that moment, he seems taken aback. Something about the slight change in his brow. But once Lav starts to stand, he returns to his previous furious profile.

“Twelve, I don’t know what your deal is,” she speaks up. “But you can’t just be bitter with us. We’re trying to help you, okay? If you need space, you need to tell us. We’re not your enemies.”

“We’ve had a lot of people come in here,” Cyrus adds with a nod. “Some of us have been here a while. We know how things work in this place. So let us help you.”

Strangely, Twelve lets out a huff of breath through his nostrils, and rises upon hearing these words. His bent legs shift forward until he can plant a foot on the ground, and carefully, he stands on his feet without needing his hands. Everyone watches him intently, but nobody says a word.

Rather than say anything in response, Twelve rolls his head around and adjusts to the shift in position. And, in the blink of an eye, he steps toward Cyrus and slams his head forward against Cyrus’ face. His attempt is not strong enough to do more than knock Cyrus back a bit and temporarily daze him, and Cyrus recovers quickly.

The others look on, horrified at the sudden outburst. When they ask if Cyrus is okay, he touches his nose, brings his hands forward to make sure there’s no blood, and then assures that he feels fine.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?!” Lav steps in and shoves Twelve’s shoulders, causing him to step back a bit. “Dick!”

“Let him defend himself.” Twelve finally speaks, watching Cyrus intently. “You fucks are trained to handle a problem like me, right? Don’t be shy.”

Lav furrows her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re all in on this,” is Twelve’s bitter response. His voice is low and growling, face tense. “You’re not fooling me. What is this, an experiment? Daycare? What? What the fuck did you do to my head?”

“We told you, we’re not here to hurt you, asshole!” Lav spits back, keeping her fists balled up in case she needs to land a hit herself. “We didn’t do anything to you. We’re prisoners too!”

“And nobody here is going to fight you,” adds Cyrus, hand over his nose as it likely stings with pain. “I’m not the type to lay a hand on people. We’re just trying to help because we’ve all been in this position.”

“That’s a load,” Twelve scoffs. “Nice little show that goth chick put on, though.”

“This isn’t a game,” Eight sharply calls out, rising to his feet. He steps toward Twelve and jabs at his shoulder with a pointed finger. “You’re not here because of us, so don’t go taking your anger out on us because you’re freaked out about being here. The doctors are the ones holding us hostage. They’re responsible for this shit.”

“You think I’m gonna believe a word you say?” Twelve spits back, turning toward Eight. In turn, Eight keeps his head tilted slightly down, but you’re not sure why. “Why would I?”

“Lilah was my doctor,” Eight answers firmly. “I know all about how shitty she is, and I’ve got bruises all over my body if you need proof. Don’t ruin your chances with us to help you by being bitter.”

Twelve steps up to Eight as if to challenge him, getting up in his face as much as he can.

“Nice try, but I’m still not buying it,” he bites. “Words mean nothing. If you people are really as innocent as you claim, then either let me out of this cuff, or stay the fuck out of my way.”

“We can’t trust you not to hurt anyone else,” Lav refuses before Eight can say anything more. “You had one shot to make a good impression and you blew it. I get you’re scared or freaked out about being here, but we’re telling you the truth. We’re not your enemies. Don’t make enemies of us.”

Twelve laughs a bit and turns his head to look at her. “You think I’m scared?”

“Most everyone is when they come,” Six speaks before the profoundly irate Lav can. Gazing upon Six’s face reveals a remarkable tension, as her lips are pressed tight, and brows lowered. However, she doesn’t bark at Twelve despite his attitude. Whereas Lav is ready to fight the guy, Six remains restrained.

“It’s gut-wrenching to wake up in this place,” Pickle hesitantly affirms, adding to Six’s statement. “I’m one of the newest people here and I was really freaked out about having to live here for the rest of my life. The only good thing is that they let us do whatever we want behind the gate, but it’s still normal to take a bit of time adjusting to this place. So if you’re scared, you don’t have to act all tough to hide it.”

“This isn’t an act, twerp. I’m not scared. Not me,” Twelve tells the both of them with a cocked brow. “I’m not intimidated by any of you. I got my ass handed to me the other day by one of your big guys, and then again by that goth bitch. Hurt, but doesn’t mean I’ll stop fighting. I’m gonna find a way out of here. If you wanna prove you’re so nice, work with me. But until you decide to show me you’re worth my time, I’m not bothering with any of you. I don’t care if we’ve got the same clothes and that we’re locked in here together. Doesn’t mean we’re family.”

“None of us look like we’d even attempt to hurt you,” Five refutes him. “None of us are strong enough to fight back against the doctors.”

“I sure the fuck am,” Lav asserts with her hands now resting firmly on her hips. “That’s why the doctors have to restrain me a lot in bed because I have just as much strength in me as you think you have. So don’t get all cocky.”

Twelve gives a condescending laugh and turns his body toward her. “Yeah, miss muscles. Bet you’re real popular with guys.”

Lav doesn’t let this fly, and promptly responds to his ridiculing of her with a fist to the jaw. Twelve’s face turns sharply, but he takes the hit like nothing. Instead of getting angry, he laughs again.

“God damn you’ve got a hook on you.” He turns his head back to her, rolling it around to make sure he’s not hurt. Apparently Lav didn’t hit hard enough to really do damage, unless Twelve’s just tough enough to take this kind of thing. But you’ve never seen her do that before, and you worry she could do much worse with her strength. “Impressive. But I was just told nobody would hurt me. Pretty shifty just to go back on your word, eh?”

Lav’s fist remains balled up and in front of her chest. “That was just a warning. We won’t bug you unless we have to. We’ve still got feelings, Twelve, and we take care of each other here. Don’t be a goddamn dick or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“Both of you, chill out, okay?” Five begs. “You don’t need to be riled up. Nobody has to hurt anyone. You’re scaring people here!”

Twelve again turns to glance down at the others, and catches Three as she clutches Five, eyes wide with fright. He goes quiet for a moment while staring at her face, but eventually scoffs and shoves past Eight, bumping his shoulder against your friend as he heads toward the entrance of the room.

“Whatever.”

The other Numbers only turn and watch as he steps away, but Lav catches him before he can leave.

“Hey, one word of advice, buddy,” She spits, pointing a finger his way. “Don’t piss the doctors off. I said we won’t touch you unless you give us a reason to, but they’re not so forgiving. Remember that you don’t know what this place is like. We do. Take it from me, you don’t wanna mess around here. Be careful what you say and do.”

“Okay, blondie,” Twelve pecks at her with a disgusting, cocky grin. “You sure are hovering over me a lot for someone who’s supposed to be innocent. But fine, I’ll behave. You stay put, though. I’m gonna see what’s around this prison of yours. Always good to get your bearings before you make a move.”

He then looks back at Cyrus. “And you, ghost boy. Be glad I didn’t hit you hard enough to do real damage. Think of that as a little warning—and that goes for all of you. I could do much more if I had my hands.”

“We won’t be giving you the opportunity,” Eight affirms with a glower. Twelve doesn’t bother responding, turning back and heading off. Once he’s gone from the room, everyone breathes a collective sigh of temporary relief.

“That’s not how I expected this to go,” Pickle sighs. “What are we supposed to do about that?”

“We just keep an eye on him.” Cyrus sniffs and adjusts his nose a bit to make sure nothing’s really messed up. When Three asks him if he’s okay, he affirms he’s fine.

“If he’s in that cuff, he shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Eight adds, folding his arms. “Maybe we should keep our distance for a while until he calms down.”

You frown. “I don’t think a guy like that is gonna calm down on his own. You certainly didn’t when you were frustrated about everything.”

“Don’t insult me by assuming I’m like him,” the gray-shirted young man snaps back. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who can be talked to easily. Even I was capable of listening. He’s a brawny, act-first son of a bitch.”

“I certainly won’t be the one to try talking to him,” Lav mutters unhappily. “Not until he comes to his senses. That was really uncalled for. And I didn’t wanna hit him, but god that pissed me off.”

“Just don’t make it a habit,” Blue warns unhappily, to which Lav nods understandably.

Two glances at everyone then, and when his eyes land on his sister, he furrows his brows a bit.

“What if one of us is left alone with him, though? What if he hurts us for no reason?”

This question leaves Cyrus frustrated. His eyes remain on the floor.

“I don’t want to suggest it given my bad experiences with it, but calling a doctor is an option. If he’s trouble, run to the hall and use the button. But only do that as a last resort, because I don’t want them to take him away and do something horrible if he acts up. He seems capable of stepping back even if he has a confrontational personality. So if you don’t irk him, he might be easier to handle.”

“Plus he probably won’t strike without a reason,” Six adds with a nod. “Maybe now that we’ve told him we won’t touch him he’ll be less likely to hit someone.”

Five seems unconvinced as she looks down at the girl still clutching to her arm. She frowns.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” she says. “But I agree we should be careful and keep an eye on him.”

Blue scoffs. “Okay, so like, who’s to say he’s gonna be cuffed forever? Even if he plays nice in the future, he could fake it just so he can get out of those things.”

A good point, and one that most everyone agrees with judging by how solemn they suddenly become. Nobody looks at anyone in particular, mostly elsewhere while they try to think about it.

“Most of us aren’t fighters,” Violet notes unhappily, scratching at the back of her neck. “This place made us really weak. The only upside is that it might weaken him too, but we also don’t know how long it’ll take for that to happen, or if it even will.”

Lav brings a hand to her chin and thinks a bit. “And he said he wanted to try getting out of here, right? If he does that, he’s going to get himself killed for sure. Even if we bother protecting him by not letting doctors know, he’s still bound to be destructive in ways we can’t prevent.”

“But do we want to let him be?”

Three’s timid voice peeping into the conversation makes everyone freeze and look at her. Though she grows sheepish after grabbing attention, Three still attempts to make her point.

“I don’t want to leave anyone behind even if they’re terrible,” she admits. “I’m scared of Twelve, but we shouldn’t let him die.”

You look down. “I feel like he’ll be fine.”

“Why?” Lav raises a brow as she turns her head your way. You simply shrug.

“I don’t know. He seems too new to be thrown away so suddenly.”

You suspect this to be the case, but Twelve is also someone whose injection is coming just after yours. If The Overseer is refusing to throw you away for the sake of studying your response to Mnemosyne, you’re willing to take a shot in the dark and bet that Twelve’s case is the same, at least until proven otherwise.

Were he not at all significant, you don’t think he’d ever have even made it to this place. He didn’t get hurt from the drug, and you suspect his dose is either the same as yours, or an entirely different one built upon from yours. That’s why there’s so many vials of it, right? So many versions with different numbers?

You’re all just…trials of some kind.

Just numbers. Data.

But then, what does that mean for those who had earlier doses? Could those be ineffective at some point?

Have they already been rendered so?

If anyone here remembers anything, saying so would be detrimental to their survival. But you’re still not sure just how to ask anyone about it. Writing notes is something, but if you’re seen on camera writing and discarding notes by tearing them up or wetting them like Yosuke did, you’d be dragged away in a heartbeat. You have to be smarter than that.

“I guess that’s a possibility,” Cyrus’ voice interrupts your thoughts. “Still, we can’t predict how things will go. A lot has been happening lately. Even in the other group, a lot happened that I never could have predicted. We should always be cautious.”

“At the very least,” Six chimes in, “If we can’t make friends with the guy, we can at least coexist with him. Once he sees we’re not a threat, he’ll leave us be.”

“And if he gets destructive and we can’t stop him, we’ll have to call a doctor,” Pickle sighs. “I don’t disagree with Three, though…I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t like the guy off of this first impression, but, you know.”

Three looks over at him with a slight pout, but doesn’t say anything in response.

Lav then lets out a tired sigh.

“Well, who the hell knows what he’s doing now,” she mutters. “But we’re all safe and okay so that’s good. Let’s forget about this for now. Lilah’s gone, and Twelve’s on his own. If we hear any noise, then we can be concerned.”

You ponder this a bit, remembering the noise you heard yesterday. “I think I heard a scuffle while in my room the other day. Maybe it was him.”

“Think so?” Violet questions curiously. “I didn’t really hear anything. Though, I was put out pretty early.”

“Same, actually,” Pickle concurs. “My rooms are all right next to Ten’s, and I didn’t hear anything at all. Either it was during the day and none of us were near the hall, or we were all put out by the time it happened.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Yosuke was watching over me after my visit with Lilah, and he had these syringes with the anesthetic in them. He tried not to let me hear what was happening outside, but when the noises happened again, he took one of the syringes out and left me alone for a bit. The noises stopped, and he came back without the syringe. It was really weird. But now I know what must have happened. Twelve was probably trying to fight back or run, and Yosuke helped either Lilah or Milos put him out.”

Lav once again looks your limbs up and down, staring intently at all your bruises.

“And about Lilah—You look pretty rough. I know you said you’re fine, but are you?”

“Yeah, why did Lilah even see you to begin with?” Six adds with a confused expression.

“A lot of reasons,” you explain vaguely. “I can’t tell you much about it, but she probably won’t see me again. I’ll heal up eventually.”

You then catch Eight’s green gaze and start to wonder aloud. “You said Lilah was your doctor, right?”

He doesn’t respond, instead looking off to the side.

“Was, not is?” You press him further, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he looks over at Cyrus by the couch, brows scrunched up a bit, and tension in his expression.

“Cyrus, I need to talk to you.”

This causes your royal blue-shirted companion to return his friend’s gaze with a slight look of surprise. “Me? Um, sure.”

“Hey, be careful though,” Lav warns, knowing that Twelve’s roaming around. The other two assure her they will be.

Without hesitation, Cyrus steps around everyone on his way to Eight. Briefly, he looks down at you, eyes solemn, but you simply nod at him in the hopes that he knows not to worry about leaving you after the talk you just had. Granted, Twelve’s rather abrupt emergence provided a pretty good distraction from that miserable topic.

Just like that, Eight and Cyrus are gone, and the room again goes quiet. Wanting to prevent a lull, you try to make conversation.

“What were you all even doing before this?”

“Just kind of hanging around,” Five plays along with a weary smile. “Lilah popped in so suddenly and scared us. She made us sit like this and then brought Twelve in. We were pretty surprised, since doctors usually just walk in to dump their new Numbers in here and leave.”

“Like mine did,” You huff. “I guess I’d prefer it that way. If He’d done for me what Lilah did for Twelve, I’d have been mortified.”

“In any case, all that’s over,” Lav tries to interrupt the discussion. Her arms unfold. “Let’s just try to relax a little and move on.”

The rest of the day is spent loafing about in the rec room, though the atmosphere remains slightly tense since nobody knows quite when or if Twelve will emerge again.

The peachy girlfriends, Three, and Violet get together to try playing at one of the game tables on the left, hoping to distract themselves from all the commotion earlier. On the other side of the room, Pickle, Two, Blue, and Lav gather around the couch and watch a few movies about who knows what. You simply rest up on the couch near where Twelve had been kneeling, though you don’t manage to fall asleep. Nobody really bothers you except to make sure you’re fed, and you only get up to use the restroom now and then.

For the most part, Twelve doesn’t really come back here. The doors do eventually open up again and snap everyone’s attention to it, but it’s just Cyrus. Alone, you notice.

You want to sit up, but don’t really try to force yourself to move. Cyrus simply takes a seat on the floor before you. Occasionally you see Violet looking over his way, but she doesn’t much acknowledge you two otherwise.

Cyrus looks downtrodden when he returns, but he hardly addresses his state. You’re only left to wonder just what he and Eight discussed, but are certain it wasn’t good news.

“Is he okay?” You ask, and Cyrus assures you everything’s alright. Strangely, he follows it up by expressing he promised Eight not to discuss it with anyone else yet, and that it’s between them both. So, you try not to pry.

“Where’s Twelve?” The question takes Cyrus aback.

“Last I saw him he was in the cafeteria trying to pick a fight with Charlie,” he admits. “He’s really not trusting of anyone right now. Makes some sense he especially wouldn’t trust someone he can’t see, though.”

Your brows lower. “He didn’t try to hurt Charlie, did he?”

Cyrus shakes his head. “He banged his head against the window, but that’s about it. Charlie ended up giving him some kind of blended fruit or something in a cup with a straw so Twelve could at least eat something. Me and Eight didn’t really want to uncuff him, but the guy kept trying to use being able to eat with his hands as an excuse to get us to free him. He ended up not drinking out of the cup since he was convinced it was poison. Made a mess by bumping the counter and letting it fall all over the floor, too.”

You sigh. “At least Charlie’s still willing to take care of him. But that guy’s not gonna be able to act this way forever. He’ll have to accept food and water at least. Eventually, anyway.”

Seeing Cyrus’ aqua eyes fixated on the floor again hurts, but you try to keep the conversation going.

“Where’s Eight?”

“Playing his violin.” Cyrus tries to smile. You know him. Luckily Twelve already explored a little, so I don’t think he’s gonna bother him. I hope so, at least.”

“Eight can handle himself anyway,” you try to reason with the idea so as not to let your worry eat at you. “What about you?”

Cyrus twiddles his nose a bit. “I guess my nose kinda stings, but I’m not all dizzy, and it’s not broken or bloody or anything. I’ll consider that a win.”

You frown. “You really won’t fight back?”

“I said I’m not the type to,” is your companion’s unhappy response. “I don’t believe in fighting violence with violence. If I have to protect someone, I will. But first of all, I’m not exactly the most muscular guy. Second of all, I’m not really a mean-spirited person. I guess that’s why some people see me as weak.”

“Everyone’s got different strengths,” you try to refute this. “Maybe you’re not an Olympian, but you’re good at other things. Things people look up to you for.”

Cyrus doesn’t really respond, but he does blush a bit and smile to himself.

At some point, you’re taken aback by Lav walking over. In your focus on Cyrus, you hadn’t even really noticed she got up. Casually, she plops herself down by your blueish companion and gives a little laugh.

“Hey, you two look like you could use a pep talk. Everything alright?”

“You got a sixth sense or something?” Cyrus jokes a bit despite his weary demeanor. “We’re okay. Just a little out of sorts today.”

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Lav says with a frown. “You both kind of got kicked around.”

You pout a bit. “I don’t imagine things will be any easier. But I guess it’s good to have that out of the way.”

“You toughed it out,” Lav nods approvingly. “Lilah’s a real bitch. Not exactly easy to put up with.”

“Tell me about it,” Cyrus huffs.

You shrug your shoulders slightly. “I’ve already been through a lot. I fear what might have happened if she saw me much earlier. But I’d rather not think about it.”

Lav lowers her brows. “Hey, be careful. I don’t know what’s been up with you or why, and I know you can’t tell me, but Lilah can’t possibly be the worst of it.”

“I know.”

You then glance between Lav and Cyrus, and decide to try getting Lav alone so that you can talk to her about earlier.

“Um, Cyrus?” You call, grabbing his attention. “Could you maybe get me some water? Sorry, but I don’t wanna move too much right now. Meds are slowly starting to wear thin.”

He agrees, and promises to return momentarily. When he’s done, you look back at Lav and speak quietly.

“I told him about my state,” you admit, arousing a wide-eyed look from your lavender companion.

“How’d he take it?”

“Not well.” You frown. “He was a bit freaked out by it, with good reason. But we did talk a little about what that meant and how it might affect us.”

Lav shakes her head. “I’m not surprised it’d hurt him. He’s still so torn up about what happened last time, even if he’s moved on from Jade. I feel bad for him, but there’s only so much we can do. Supporting him is all there is for now.”

“I know.” You turn over on your side, wincing a bit. Telling Cyrus the meds were starting to wear off wasn’t really a lie. The raw soreness is hitting you more than you expected, but it’s luckily not as painful as it was when your wounds were fresh.

“I just worry what will happen when my doctor finds out. It might make him crazy. So between dealing with Cyrus having these awful memories flood back to him, and dealing with my doctor being so possessive, I feel like a mess. As it is, I should be resting, but I might be getting more visits already. I don’t know if I’m ready for it, but I guess being fucked is better than being beat to shit.”

“You shouldn’t be seeing anyone,” Lav mutters remorsefuly. “But yeah, sometimes injuries don’t stop those assholes from getting what they want. We usually just have to tough it out.”

“Yosuke at least tried to get some of the gentler doctors to see me, or at least that’s what he says. As it is, I had to see Milos recently. It was terrible.”

Lav luckily doesn’t question the timing of it. “Geez, him and Lilah? Glad you survived.”

You grimace a bit as her remark makes you remember Lilah’s words about murdering other visitors. Despite that, all you mutter in response is a “yeah”. Though you know now what happened to Olive, you’d rather nobody else have to worry about how she died.

You instead try to turn the conversation from such a difficult topic. You reach a hand out to Lav’s face and cup her cheek.

“You know, you don’t always have to be tough. You can be soft if you want.”

Lav in turn cups her hand over yours and leans into your palm, smiling a bit. “I know. I just feel I have to take care of things that others might not be able to.”

“Well, you sure decked Twelve earlier. I don’t think any of us would have.”

“Six probably would have.” Lav shakes her head. “But she doesn’t wanna be that way because her girl’s a softie who scares easy, even if she doesn’t usually admit it. I only took charge because the guy really pissed me off. Just because I’ve got some muscle doesn’t mean I’m unlikeable. And to the other sex…geez.”

“Yeah, that was pretty gross,” you agree with a frown. “You were fair to defend yourself, but it was still a really tense moment. Anyway, don’t let it get to you, ‘kay? You’re tough, but you’re really pretty too.”

You chuckle a bit as Lav blinks, and as her cheeks redden so furiously.

“Um, gosh…” she gets flustered. “Thanks. You’re really pretty too, Ten.”

“Even with all the bruises?”

Regardless of whether or not anyone else is looking your way, Lav doesn’t much care. And frankly, you don’t either. She gives a big smile and leans in to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“No matter what you look like,” she promises, her voice soft.

Cyrus eventually returns, and you bide your time chatting with him and Lav together while the other Numbers all do their own things. Despite the roughness of earlier, and even with the discomfort all over your body, being with Lav and Cyrus now makes you feel warm and safe. And, judging by how they’re capable of laughing together with you despite the rough patches earlier, they both feel the same way.

No word comes about Twelve after this, though you’re certain everyone’s still immensely worried about what might happen with him around. Those who were around long enough to see the previous group’s fights probably understand what to expect of conflict, but others…

Still, you let the worry slip from your mind for now. So long as he isn’t causing trouble, you suppose it doesn’t matter. The only thing you can’t let go is his apparent adamancy on escaping. You’re not sure what to make of it, but you’re hard-pressed to disagree with his desire.

The day soon draws to an end, though Yosuke is late to pick you up, leaving you to wait around the hall while you watch the others get taken away. Cyrus, Pickle, and Eight have been left behind for now.

Mom’s hidden somewhere in the office according to Monica, but the latter doctor stays by the door and makes some small talk with a few of the other passing doctors. Their occasional light banter and posh laughs over what’s really just a sick scenario makes your ears feel numb.

Twelve doesn’t emerge with the others right away, and it’s not until the Twins. Blue, and Five have been picked up that Lilah finally shows herself. She seems displeased, if unsurprised, that her new Number hasn’t bothered to come out, but doesn’t bother going in after him either. She waits with her arms folded, leaning her shoulder against the wall while rolling her eyes at Monica’s attempts to be social with her.

Only you, Lav, Violet, and Six remain around, saying nothing as you eavesdrop on Monica’s light prodding questions and comments, and Lilah’s blunt responses. She’s not being crude to the woman, but certainly not friendly.

Watching her causes a wave of resentment to wash over you. For her to pick up like nothing happened the other day should be expected, but it still irks you that she can do this just the way her other deadly peers can.

After a while of waiting, Twelve finally emerges from the gym, garnering everyone’s attention. His emerald eyes immediately lock onto his doctor with scorn, but he steps slowly toward her regardless. In turn, she pushes off the wall and meets with him a bit past the gate.

“Took you long enough, whelp,” she criticizes him. “I’m playing nice enough since you’re such a newbie, but that’s not gonna cut it for long. Don’t make me wait for you again. Got it?”

Twelve says nothing, continuing to stare at her furiously. When Lilah starts to verbally berate him again, you notice that, for just a moment, Twelve’s eyes jerk ever so slightly out of position and fixate on the open gate behind Lilah. The sight of it makes you tense up, but you stay still in the case that Lilah’s attention will shift to you. She’d waste no time being so cruel to you again even in front of others if she so likes. You don’t have the strength to deal with it again. Not until you’ve fully recovered.

Twelve’s eyes bounce so subtly between the gate and the woman in front of him, but he makes no immediate moves. Not at first.

Just when you expect he’s given up the idea, he does anything but. In a heartbeat, he attempts to push past Lilah and dart toward the gate, but she catches on just as quickly as he acts, and so she immediately turns and wraps an arm around his neck to stop his momentum and jerk him back.

Twelve lets out no more than a grunt and a slight gurgle as Lilah’s arm tightens around him. She looks down at him with a rather unamused frown.

“Don’t be cute,” she sharply reprimands him with her lips so close to his ear. “You really can’t afford it.”

You watch uncomfortably as Twelve tries furiously to worm and fight his way out of her grasp, but his efforts only make Lilah squeeze harder until he can’t breathe. Only once he stops does she let her arm loose.

She then grips hair and leans herself over, black lips by her Number’s ear. “You about done, hm?”

Between his gritted teeth, Twelve merely grunts out “Bite me, bitch.”

It’s enough to infuriate his doctor, who immediately yanks his head to the side and shoves him hard enough against the wall for blood to be left on it when Twelve is left shocked enough from the impact to go temporarily limp and fall to the ground. He groans on the floor, shoulder pressed against the white surface as he tries to recover from the impact.

“Lilah, there’s no need for that!” Monica exclaims disdainfully. She avoids looking at the bloody stain on the wall. You can’t help but recoil at the sight just like her. “Just take him away already!”

Lilah doesn’t really listen to her. She simply squats down with her knees pressed tightly closed, the excess length of her skirt drooping down from the back and touching the floor. She tilts her head while watching Twelve breathe and try to gather his wits.

“You wanna keep going, boy?” She snidely questions him. “Or are you gonna behave and let me throw you in your comfy little cell? Not like you deserve a luxury like that.”

She scoffs when he doesn’t respond. “Guess I bumped you too hard if you’re not already being a little snot with me again. And I thought you were going to be stronger than the others.”

At first you think Twelve’s continued silence might be a trick, and that he’s going to suddenly leap up and catch Lilah off guard. However, these assumptions are dampened the longer he remains on the floor. You can see from the side of his face that his eyes are still open, teeth still gritted. At the very least, you’re glad he’s still conscious.

The other girls simply look on in shock, with Monica remaining uncertain how to act seeing Lilah’s abuse upfront rather than having to just hear about it. You’re surprised she’s not already used to the abusive tendencies of this place despite knowing well how it is here, or at least claiming to.

“Lilah, an approach like that so suddenly is only going to keep him from listening to you.”

Everyone in the hall is taken aback by the abrupt emergence of a softer voice. You all look up from the sight on the floor only to see Gale, standing ahead of you all, having just emerged from the corner. Their arms are folded, and their icy eyes are focused on Twelve’s body limp on the floor.

“Hey, I know what I’m doing,” Lilah refutes their advice with a frown. “Don’t try to get all analytical on me again. This one’s mine.”

She grabs Twelve by the hair again and yanks him up, leaving him to grunt in pain. Thankfully he’s still awake after getting his face slammed against a wall, but his nose and forehead are now bleeding. You, Lav, Six, and Violet all watch uncomfortably as he’s forced to stand. When he shifts his knees up to support his yanked-up body, you notice his movements are slower now.

For just a moment, his emerald eyes dart your way, but he immediately shifts his gaze elsewhere.

“This chickenshit won’t exactly listen to me if I start being all cute with him either,” The vile doctor remarks, embittered. “He thinks he’s a little rebel. Evidently he needs the chains.”

“I suppose I can’t change your mind, Lilah,” Gale waves this off with a frown. “But you never can get anyone to respect you by being cruel all the time. I’ve told plenty of people that, but you especially seem to ignore these words out of spite.”

“I don’t care if they like me,” is Lilah’s straightforward response. “I just care that they don’t cause problems. Scaring the piss out of them usually does it. But for someone like this guy here, it’s less about fear and more about discipline. In any case, don’t give me your little spiel when you’re so crazy about you-know-who even when he treats you like shit. You act so soft, but you’re really just a little masochist. You’re just not honest about it.”

Gale takes no offense and instead smiles softly. “Actually, I am quite honest about my fascinations. What can I say? I wouldn’t call myself a masochist, though. Certainly not to the extent that you are.”

Lilah scrunches up her brows and scowls. “Look, I wouldn’t stick to caring about someone who leaves me in the dark after so long of showing me respect. Trust me when I say you shouldn’t either.”

Gale’s smile does not falter. “That’s between you and him, isn’t it?”

This garners no response from Lilah other than a bothered huff. She simply shakes Twelve’s head around in her grip and looks at him scornfully. “Let’s go.”

She does not give Gale or Monica a goodbye, but it’s Gale who takes little offense to it while Monica stands there with a bit of a pout. When Lilah is gone, Gale turns to the other doctor and greets her.

“Don’t worry too much about her,” they say. “You know how she gets.”

“It still strikes me a bit sometimes,” Monica admits, putting a hand to her chest as if to feel her heartbeat. “God, my heart’s pounding a little. I’m not the fighter I used to be when I was a girl, so this kind of stuff still manages to surprise me sometimes.”

Gale frowns a little. “I suppose it’s never pleasant to have to see these things up close, but believe me, you get accustomed to the sight. Or else you just learn to look away. With someone like Lilah, you can’t really do anything about it. But I care enough about the poor dear to at least try.”

Monica’s lips downturn a bit as she seems to struggle with accepting this idea, but she doesn’t really respond to it beyond nodding in hesitant agreement. Once she drops her hand, Gale then looks toward Six and beckons gently to her.

“Come on,” they bid sweetly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Six hesitates after having just witnessed what she did, open mouth trembling a bit. However, she does eventually step toward her doctor and takes their hand.

“Don’t you worry about all that,” Gale tries to be reassuring, still smiling for their Number as they give Six’s hand a light squeeze. They seem to be temporarily ignoring the rest of you. “The boy will be just fine.”

“She didn’t have to do that,” Six mumbles, looking down. Gale frowns then, and brings their hands to her shoulders.

“I know. But it’s over. Do we need to talk about it?”

“No,” Six refuses. “I don’t have anything to say right now. Um, I just wanna go to sleep.”

“If you like.” Gale then looks up and finally observes your bruised body. For a moment, their lips part, and their eyes widen ever so slightly. They look on in sympathy but say nothing of your injuries. If they hadn’t already seen you on camera, then it’s not hard for them to connect the dots now. Though, you wager seeing an injury on a screen is different than seeing it in person.

Despite the light shock, Gale tries to stay even-tempered and positive, smiling again for the lot of you.

“Apologies for that show,” they call out. “But do understand that Number is a bit tricky. Try to avoid setting him off if possible—he’s quite unpredictable right now. I’d hate for any of you to get hurt. As for what’s going on between him and his doctor, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

None of you really reply, but at least murmur in acknowledgement. With that, Gale leaves you be.

“You girls have a good night,” they call before guiding a bothered Six away from the gate and around the corner.

Monica sighs a bit and folds her arms. “Your doctors are all late today.”

She makes no more comments of what happened, you notice. But maybe you don’t blame her—moving on from that is probably a better option.

“I’d rather he take his time,” you admit unhappily. “Being away from him means I get to stand on my own two feet.”

Monica glances your way and tries to smile despite seeing your disheveled state again. “I hope he took care of you after whatever happened, at least.”

You nod. “I’m grateful for that much, I suppose. I’m not proud of having to cozy up to him, but sometimes I need him. This was just one of those times.”

Monica chuckles a bit. “Well, you’re a tough girl, Ten. You can handle him.”

When your gaze meets the other two nearby, you’re surprised to see how taken aback they are at you conversing casually with Monica. Maybe it’s because you’re not sounding so bitter or reserved with her that it’s obvious just how easy it is for you to speak with her. Regardless, Violet’s scrunched brows make her seem the most offended, but Lav’s just looking on, puzzled.

It’s not like they don’t talk to the doctors, but you know well most of the Numbers prefer not to if possible. The only one you know of who’s been so positive is Blue, but that’s for her own reasons. But when a doctor shows up in the recreational areas, everyone usually goes quiet. Cautious. Maybe even angry. You would be too right now, if Monica wasn’t a little different. More and more, you think she might be your saving grace here. Even if you’re not happy with her behavior, she’s trustworthy.

A knock is then heard against the wall behind Monica, followed by a rather sing-songy voice.

“Monica? Are they gone yet?”

The ditzy lady before you perks up at the lively voice and turns her head a little, facing the door beside her.

“Mamita? Were you listening in?”

It’s not long before the titular wily blonde emerges from the office, heels clacking against the floor slowly. She smiles her pinkish smile the moment she sees you and your friends.

“Well, I didn’t want to trifle with that whore, Lilah,” She tells Monica while still affixing her green gaze upon you all. “Or Milos, frankly. I’m still a bit upset.”

She shakes the thought away and focuses on you all. “Now look at these poor girls! Left waiting for their handsome suitors. Yosuke’s tardiness I understand, but not the other two.”

“I guess Sven’s being overworked because of what happened,” Monica guesses with a shrug. Her maroonish lips curve down slightly. “Micah too.”

Mom waves this off. “Oh please, I know for a fact Micah’s work is done for now. He’s probably just being forgetful. Maybe pouting over being punished and dragging his feet about it just to push the buttons of our dear little overseer. His knife was special to him.”

“Why not buy another?”

Mom smiles to herself. “It’s a little complicated.”

She then focuses solely on you and puts a hand to her cheek, giving a sympathetic look and a childish pout.

“Oh, poor baby!” she croons. “You look so hurt. I heard about what happened—Lilah certainly didn’t hold back, but at least now she won’t hurt you with her new little toy helping to bide her time.”

She gives a dainty little sigh. “My, I’m glad Yosuke was there to help you. Though, what medicine he’s been feeding you is probably wearing off by now.”

“A little, Mom,” you admit, glancing down at the floor. “I can wait.”

Lav gives a disheartened look, knowing that’s probably not true. Frankly, you’re starting to feel more and more of the discomfort the longer things drag on.

Mom steps closer to you and takes one of your wrists. Her thumb presses slightly against one of the bruises there, and when you wince a bit, she tsks.

“Oh my sweet baby girl,” she sympathizes. Whether genuinely or not, you aren’t sure. Nonetheless, Mom’s hand reaches up to pat your head. “I’m not quite sure how long Yosuke’s going to take, but let’s get you some more medicine, hmm?”

Before you can refuse her again, Violet strangely decides to speak up in your defense, attempting to distract the woman. “Momma, shouldn’t you take One away first?”

Mom frowns a bit and turns her head to face the girl. “Well, I like to wait until you’re all gone, sweet pea. Don’t you worry about that. Worry more about whether your own doctor intends to pick up his pace in taking you back to your comfy little bed, and whether or not he intends to fuck you in it.”

She smiles sweetly, but Violet simply looks away, flustered and furious. She goes quiet, leaving Mom to carry things onward. She calls out to Monica next.

“Do be sure to see these girls are taken back. Feel free to get your boy after, too. Just leave the gate open for now. I’ll be tending to Ten for a moment.”

“Is that a good idea?” Monica seems taken aback. “Closing the gate would be better.”

“Trust me, dearie,” Mom laughs. “My One may be quite a fast runner, but I assure you he won’t run away.”

Her lips curve in a sly grin as she looks your way again. You avoid her eyes, face red as two of her manicured fingers tease the underside of your chin.

“He has plenty of reasons not to.”

Mom starts to usher you toward the infirmary. Rather than protest it, you simply look over at Lav and Violet and try to mouth a sheepish goodbye to them. Neither of them seems particularly eager to see you go, but neither of them really fights against you being taken either.

Despite not wanting to go with him, you do hope Yosuke hurries in case Mom intends to try something on you. But at the same time, getting relief from medicine sooner is rather appealing now that walking around arouses more soreness in your legs where there are bruises.

Entering the infirmary grants you yet another surprise, though, since the moment you look up at the bed where you’re sure Mom wants you to sit, you already see someone there.

A rather quiet Eight is leaning casually back against the wall where the long side of the bed is pushed against. One of his knees is up, the other leg is outstretched with his ankle and foot extending off the bed and hanging casually. His right arm is holding what you think is a pack of ice against his head, while the other is resting in his lap.

When he hears the door open, he finally looks your way, and is as shocked to see you here as you are to see him.

Mom playfully kisses the top of your head and urges you forward. “Now don’t be shy, my sweet girl. Go sit by him. And Eight, that’s enough of that ice, now.”

You hesitate when you see Eight’s face—there’s a fresh red welt on his right cheek that you’re sure wasn’t there before. Your mind starts to run with many questions, but in your gut, you’re sure it’s Twelve’s doing.

Still, you step closer to him and sit politely on his left, toward the edge of the bed. You wince a bit trying to position yourself with the stinging of the bruises on your bottom, but manage otherwise.

Mom observes you two together a moment and giggles, but does take the ice bag from Eight to empty it in the sink before attempting to procure more medicine for you as promised. You try to speak quietly, but know it’s hard to avoid Mom’s burning ears when she’s so close by.

“What happened?”

Eight looks down. “He came to the music room and started arguing with me.”

“He” is not someone you have to question the identity of. Your assumptions wind up correct.

“God knows why he sought me out,” Eight mutters. “But he did. He got pissy when I told him why he’s here and what to expect Gave me a good hit.”

“How? His hands were restrained.”

Eight scoffs. “He’s got legs, Ten. He knows how to use them, surprisingly. Took his anger out on me before walking off. Probably didn’t like hearing the truth”

“Yes, and when my sweet boy here tried to meet up with the rest of you,” Mom chimes in, having heard him, “I saw him in the hall and demanded he wait here. Made him take a bit of rest in this room’s safety since it was so close to time for me to call the rest of you out.”

Your brows upturn. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have let you stay by yourself. I worried Twelve might try something, but…”

“It’s fine,” Eight assures you with a mutter. “I don’t mind it, and I know the consequences of being alone with a guy like him on the loose. I’m no Nine, but I can handle myself. Besides, Lilah’s given me worse treatment. A hit’s nothing.”

“What a vile woman,” Mom hums unhappily as she eyes a particular bottle she’s grabbed. Apparently it isn’t the right one, as she huffs a bit and returns it to the cabinet before shuffling through another one. “Now where did I put it…”

You ignore her and keep focused on your friend. “Maybe he came to you for the same reason I had when I was new, even if I didn’t really think about it. You knew about Yosuke the way nobody else did. Now you know about Lilah the same way.”

Eight hesitates as he looks at you, mouth agape. But before he can really respond, Mom speaks instead.

“Well, this cutie doesn’t have to worry about her anymore, does he?” She chuckles and finally grabs the bottle she’s looking for. You remain cautious as she comes toward you two, but rather than hand you the pills, she looks to Eight. “Feed our little princess, won’t you?”

Eight looks at the bottle, eyes glowering as Mom opens it up and tips it his way in expectation for him to put his hands out. However, he forces out a polite “Yes, Mother,” and does as she wants. You don’t much like this anymore than he does, but the both of you try to get it over with.

You both avoid looking at one another as you part your lips, and as Eight takes the pills and presses them against your tongue with his fingers. Neither of you linger, with you immediately snapping your mouth shut once his fingers retract. Though you’re not given water, swallowing the pills isn’t quite so hard.

Mom blushes and starts gushing at your pointless interaction.

“Oh, you two are so cute!” she giggles. “Eight, you’re even more sheepish than my One is. Oh, wouldn’t it be so fun to have him here too?”

Eight burns quietly with fury at the notion, but says nothing. You, however…

“Why do you keep picking on me so much, Mom?” You demand. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, I can embarrass you all I like with both these boys,” Mom answers livelily as she caps the pill bottle and proceeds to return it to the cabinet. “So long as you’re around here, I can do it with anyone I like, really. It’s entertaining.”

You want to let her have a piece of your mind, but think better of it and remain docile, with your hands in your lap. Mom simply smirks at your hesitance.

Soon, the infirmary door slides open, and your doctor, in his usual white coat, arrives. His sharp olive eyes aren’t giving you much hope for a good attitude, but he doesn’t lash out much at seeing you holed up here with someone he hates.

“My, what’s kept you, Yosuke?” Mom questions giddily, practically alert like a puppy whose master has been gone for a while and has just returned. “I had to give your poor girl medicine because she was starting to ache again.”

“You already know the answer,” Yosuke is brief. He looks at you a moment, but his eyes can’t help but gravitate toward Eight beside you. Both of them lock eyes, in fact. Eight simply scowls.

“I see,” Yosuke mutters. “I certainly hope you weren’t intending on messing around here with these two.”

“Some consideration was given,” Mom teases. “But I know you’d be angry with me if I did, so I held back. Believe me when I say I’m trying to be a good girl for you, Yosuke.”

Your doctor scoffs. “I don’t, because I know you. But try as hard as you like if it pleases you.”

His gaze on Eight remains unshaken, and quietly, he steps close to the boy. You worry just what he might do, but Yosuke stays quiet and merely watches him.

Eventually, he brings a hand up to the young man’s face and plucks his glasses off with a single motion. While you expect he’ll do something drastic like break them or throw them, he doesn’t.

Yosuke instead procures a cloth from his coat pocket, cleans Eight’s glasses, and hands them back to him.

“You should take better care of these,” he tells him simply. “As I’ve heard, we don’t have someone in-house to replace these anymore. You know better.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” is your friend’s muttering, bitter response as he plucks the glasses from Yosuke and puts them back on. “I can handle things on my own.”

“Like a fight?” Yosuke questions cockily as he observes the welt on Eight’s cheek. “If you say so. I only say these things because I know you have such a hard time dealing with other people. I care little for you, boy. But perhaps I feel a bit bad given your position.”

“Position?” You question uncertainly. Yosuke’s attention shifts to you, but Mom doesn’t let him speak. She comes up behind Yosuke, resting her hands on either of his arms, and peeps at you from behind him, her head and shoulder emerging from his left side.

“Cutie doctor, does your pretty little girl really not know?” She laughs. “Ten, Eight’s mine now. I adopted him since Lilah threw her boy away like nothing the moment she obtained her shiny new toy. Our boss seemed uninterested in letting the poor dear get thrown completely away, so I took him. Or rather, he was assigned to me.”

Eight looks away and says nothing when she tells you this. You suppose that’s why he wanted to talk to Cyrus. His embarrassment at the ordeal also probably lent him to secrecy. You can understand that.

While Eight being with Mom means he’ll get hurt a lot less, shame and embarrassment is sure to come in its stead. You can only imagine what the fuck Mom’s going to make him do, especially with Cyrus.

Though, now you’re perplexed by Mom’s words—The Overseer didn’t want to get rid of Eight? Why?

You know the others are probably only alive because he’s still “studying” them, but you wonder whether they’re still as “valuable” as someone like Cyrus who’s been here longer. And you certainly wouldn’t call yourself valuable, but given the conversation you heard, you suppose you’re now somewhat in the same group. But what qualifies Eight, then? What qualifies anyone to being protected even in the slightest? Is he waiting for a particular response? A reason to cast them out?

“It wasn’t just a generous gift, I presume,” Yosuke comments as he moves away from Mom and shakes his arm away from her. She simply chuckles and stands by his left.

“Of course not—I’m not stupid. I know he’s only letting me have two Numbers for the same reason he’s keeping you so busy.”

Her green eyes look toward you, and she smiles. “We’re little troublemakers who need to be kept occupied. I’ve no idea why he let Lilah get what she wanted—though I’m certainly not surprised by it—but if that means I get to have two cutie boys, then perhaps I have no reason to be upset. My only question is why he waited until now to play this card if he wanted me to stop being such a little pest.”

“Well, it’s no business of mine,” Yosuke shrugs this off. “I’m only here for her.”

Yosuke takes your hand. “Can you stand, dear?”

You try, though find it a bit grueling to shift off your bottom. At the very least, you manage to accomplish the basic task with some pain, but no difficulty. Once up, Yosuke drops his hand to your waist and guides you closer to him, smiling handsomely. “Good. You seem to be doing better, even little by little.”

“You don’t have to treat her that way,” Eight scorns him, no longer hiding his opinions by biting his tongue. “The things I have to hear about…You’re sick. You’re much worse with her than you ever were with me.”

“Still willing to protest?” Yosuke chuckles a bit, not taking the least bit of offense from the boy. “Don’t get cocky now that Lilah isn’t here to discipline you. In any case, mouth off all you like, Eight. You’re of no concern to me. But if I so like, I could raise complaints about your behavior with your mother, who can discipline you all the same”

Mom leans her head against Yosuke’s arm and rubs at it lovingly. Despite his evident displeasure at the act, Yosuke does not move.

“That’s right, sweet boy,” Mom coos. “I want my cutie doctor to be happy, after all. So don’t go upsetting him, mm?”

Yosuke ignores her, still aggressively fixated on Eight. And rather than Linger, Mom does move off the man on her own so as not to bug him more. She lets him continue on.

“Do understand that nothing I do with my dear Ten is any of your business. I suggest you keep your nose out of it. Be sure to remind the other one not to be so concerned about her as well. Neither of you have anything to do with her.”

You wind up turning yourself around to face Eight since Yosuke’s hold on your waist isn’t really tight.

“Please don’t worry about it,” you try to be reassuring to downplay your doctor’s warning. “I’ll be okay.”

You’re taken aback as Yosuke’s hand hovers and clamps over your mouth then. With Yosuke’s other hand now gripping your wrist, your body is dragged eve closer against his.

“He is none of your business either,” he warns. “Do you understand?”

You look away from Eight, but catch his fists balling on the plasticy cover of the infirmary bed. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to.

“Do you?” Yosuke repeats more firmly. “Rose?”

You grimace hearing your name said, and in front of one of your friends no less. However, you solemnly nod your head and let out a muffled “mm-hmm”. Your doctor lets you go, and gives your head a light pet. “Good. Then come here. You need to get more rest.”

You quiet your frustration and turn to make it easier for Yosuke to pick you up. Mom watches with blissful eyes at the charade of sweetness, teeth biting hungrily at her curled finger. Eight, however, remains scornful on the bed.

“I suppose you two have a bit of catching up to do,” Yosuke remarks as he snubs both doctor and former Number. “Please excuse me for not wanting to stick around for it.”

Yosuke takes you away, leaving a very frustrated Eight at the mercy of his new flustered doctor. By the time you enter the hall again, the others have already gone, and the gate, to your surprise, is still open as Monica obeyed Mom to the letter. You wager that means only Cyrus is left. Hopefully he isn’t too upset about today, given that he had to deal with your bad news, a wild new Number, and the news that Eight would be under Mom’s wing beside him. What a horrid thing to have to put up with.

You look up at your doctor, scowling a bit.

“You didn’t have to be rude. He was just looking after me.”

“I was only messing with the boy,” is his shoddy defense. He smiles to himself. “Eight’s a stern young man who has always fought against his place here, despite obeying when he had to. I know well he’s a defensive one too.”

You sigh. “He’s not the only one. You don’t hide your jealousy well, Yosuke.”

When he doesn’t’ respond, you shift topics. “Why didn’t you tell me there’d be another Number?”

Yosuke’s smile fades. “I told you before—I wanted you to focus on resting up. I didn’t want you dealing with all the commotion of his transfer knowing how curious my dear pet is. In any case, I certainly hope he didn’t hurt you.”

“No.”

“If he does, tell me. I’ll have a word with him. Even if that means formally arranging a visit with the boy.”

You look up again, brows raising. “What?”

“Your mother doesn’t want me to hurt her boy, and so my hands are tied with him,” is Yosuke’s simple response. He doesn’t look at you whatsoever, gaze affixed to the hall before him. “But Lilah cares little for her charges and what others do to them. If I hear that Twelve has hurt you, I’ll take care of him.”

You shift up and clutch at his shirt. “Don’t. I don’t want any bad blood between us. He’s just frustrated by being here and not remembering anything. I-”

Yosuke briefly stops walking and finally tips his head down to look your way. “Lay back in my arms, pet.”

His words strike a nerve with you, but you obey and release his shirt. Quietly, you lay back against his arm and let your head hang back. The ceiling above you shines light after light in your eyes when your doctor continues his delivery.

“I’m your doctor, my dear,” you’re reminded. “I cannot stop a lot of things without the authority to, but I will still care for and protect you where I can. Don’t fuss about it. Be grateful that I love you enough to be protective at all.”

You eventually close your eyes, but ignore this statement. “How many more people will he bring in?”

The lights passing by your face with your eyes closed look like white ghostly figures rushing by from one side of your head to the other. It’s a surreal feeling. And, sadly, familiar. You’ve been down this hall far too many times for it not to be.

“I don’t know,” you’re told. “My only concern right now is my work above ground, and you. But I imagine not many.”

“Because the groups are split?”

“Likely so. But don’t raise your voice about that, now. You know better.”

When you feel Yosuke stop at your door, your eyes open again, and you shift a bit to lean against Yosuke’s chest instead. “Yosuke, did you know that boy was coming here?”

“Mm?” Your doctor hums as he moves to set you on the bed. He doesn’t yet pull the comforter over you. “Why?”

“Did you?”

Yosuke smiles and pets your head. “Of course I did, dear. I don’t know the details, but at some point I overheard Lilah would be getting a replacement.”

You frown. “That’s why she was talking the way she was when I saw her…”

“She mentioned it?”

“A ‘toy’. I guess I didn’t realize it was going to happen so suddenly, but I also heard about someone getting brought here when I was in your boss’ room. And when he let me go, I saw someone in recovery with me.”

“So you’ve met him, then?” Yosuke seems curious. “Not officially, of course.”

You nod. “Turns out he’s mean. Apparently he was mean even before this, if what I heard is anything to go by. But I think maybe he needs time to get used to this.”

“No, dear. I think he’s going to be stubborn,” Yosuke refutes you unhappily. “I wager he’ll be a problem, but maybe Lilah likes that about him as something of a problem herself. I can’t imagine it’s good for my superior, though. He’s been making unusual choices lately.”

“At least Eight won’t be in as much pain with Mom,” you mutter, not really sure you believe it yourself despite thinking this quietly earlier. Yosuke simply shrugs this off, and retracts his touch.

“It doesn’t pertain to you now. Things sometimes change, and we move on.”

You turn your head away and let out a huff of breath from your nose. “I know.”

Yosuke observes you closely as he hovers beside your bed. Eventually, he sits by your bedside. You feel his hand run along your thigh, and you immediately whip your head to face him.

“I can’t right now,” you plead, gripping at his other sleeve. “Not while I’m in pain.”

“I know,” your doctor tries to reassure you. “I won’t with you like this. But I’d still like to touch you, dear, before you go back to your visits.”

This disheartens you. “I’d forgotten with all the commotion. Who with? Do you know?”

“Jonathan and Nathaniel seem ready to see you.” Yosuke then sighs. “I know for certain they’ll be gentle with your body. Unfortunately Gale is going to be busy, and then your mother has started to demand that she have a turn. I would have liked to keep tabs on her visits with you, but my superior wants me working. So, I’ll have to simply hope she makes good on her attempts not to get on my nerves any further.”

He catches your worried gaze and tries to smile. “If you’d like, I can have Monica help me keep an eye on things. I don’t much like the idea of you two alone, but with your mother, there’s less harm. I see Monica as sensible, if skittish at times.”

You blush. “I’d rather not see them both at the same time.”

Yosuke doesn’t really agree. “I would much rather you have a chaperone. I don’t want your mother siccing her two charges on you for her own amusement. I know well she would. She seemed to be in one of her lusty moods back there.”

The thought of that both disgusts and embarrasses you, and your cheeks grow even redder. This makes your doctor lower his brows.

“Does that fluster you?”

“No,” you deny it. “It was mortifying the first time. It hurt my heart seeing someone who didn’t want to hurt me have to do it. I wouldn’t want to deal with it again, nor put anyone in that position.”

“Then ignore the thought and focus on my touch instead,” you’re urged as your doctor starts to pet your tummy next, taking care to avoid the spot that’s patched up, and making sure to stroke very lightly. “Do be good and lay still so you don’t hurt. I’d like very much to play with my pet, but we’ll save it for when you’ve recovered a bit more.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid having to watch the man stroke you. He simply chuckles and leans himself back and against you to start sucking kisses along your neck. You don’t fight it, but do turn your head away from him, sigh, and breathe heavily as you’re given attention. It irks you that you’re so reactive, but you also find yourself craving some kind of gentle touch again after another long bout of torture.

Yosuke’s hand trails up and down your body, stopping to caress different spots and to rub at your skin with soft touches until you’re dizzy. He sweetly strokes your legs, works his fingers into the softness of your breasts, and even…

Your knees press together as Yosuke’s fingers reach your panties and start to stroke delicately along your slit, back and forth with long, gentle swipes and rubs until you’re wriggling your lower half around impatiently. Your doctor can’t help but give a low, handsome laugh in your ear.

“Do you want it?”

The memory of your dream again arises, but you shake your head.

“Are you sure?” You’re edged on, Yosuke’s words then followed by another soft kiss that leaves you peeping out a restrained moan. “Hm?”

Your hands are digging deep into the sheets of the bed as you clutch hard, but you can’t stop blushing. You can’t stop thinking about his fingers going further. And what’s worse, he starts massaging your clit from behind the cloth between your legs, teasing you more as you beg yourself to stop being turned on by such small touches.

But just as he starts to tease you by lifting his hand up and threatening to slip his fingers into your panties, he refrains from going further and completely pulls away.

Needless to say, you’re disappointed, and left wanting.

“Perhaps it’s best I don’t get riled up making you whine with pleasure,” Yosuke chuckles, pulling the hem of your gown down and flattening the fabric over your legs. “But look forward to when I have the chance, won’t you, pet?”

Before you can answer, Yosuke takes the same hand to your chin instead and guides your face toward his. He wastes no time leaning in to plant a wet kiss on your mouth, and he doesn’t let his lips leave yours until you’ve stopped breathing heavily and are no longer heaving your chest in anticipation. Though, that takes much longer than you’d like to admit.

Pleased with his effect on you after momentarily watching your flushed face, Yosuke finally sits up and gets off the bed. You’re finally tucked in with gentle motions, body covered with the thickness of your comforter and shielded partly from the cold.

“Sweet dreams, darling.” He leaves you with a small pet of your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Even when he leaves, you’re much too distracted to think. All you do is lean your head back into the pillow and try hard to forget about how much you quietly wanted your doctor to take you. There’s even a part of you that just wants the satisfaction, even from your own fingers. But you refrain.

Perhaps with all the attention you’ll be getting soon, those difficult-to-accept urges will be momentarily quelled. You just chalk it up to stress for now.

Regardless, you attempt to turn your body and wrap yourself in the comforter, quietly trying to put aside today’s difficult changes and let yourself drift off. With the pills finally starting to hit and all your soreness again subsiding, you find it’s much easier than expected.

Chapter 86: Visit Thirty Five - Incubi

It seems as if in an instant that the plush comfort of the bed beneath you has been replaced with something hard. It’s again as if you blinked and ended up somewhere new.

When you push off the floor and try gathering your wits, you’re unsure just where you are. It’s also just plain hard to tell, since your surroundings are, oddly, bathed in shadow. Only you and a circle of light around you are illuminated.

Peeking up reveals nothing but a focused white light of some sort, one you struggle to glimpse for longer than a few seconds before returning your gaze back to the floor beneath you. It’s wooden, and the familiar glossy, kempt look of it is all that tips you off to your location.

Your eyes eventually adjust to the dimness outside your circle of light, until you notice that the ballroom is empty aside from one figure.

Your lips part, but you remain silent as the figure steps forward and into the light. Only upon its face being illuminated do you realize who it is, and you’re left far less than pleased.

“Again?” You finally let a word slip out. Despite your distaste, Yosuke approaches you with a smile and takes your hand gently in his.

“It bothers you?” He questions amusedly. You don’t much fight his handling of you as he drops his free hand to your side, at your waist, while lifting the other hand by your shoulder. Strangely, he leads you in a slow, swaying dance, and you’re forced to move with him so as not to trip or fall. Your other hand remains perched on his shoulder.

There is no music, but somehow the steps don’t lose you. You match his perfectly.

Your eyes remain locked upward onto Yosuke’s profile, tense and uncomfortable as he does no more than smile and lead you around. The spotlight illuminates all of him, and with the rest of the room isolated from your circle of light, he is all you can focus on.

“No dance with Mom tonight?”

“I’ve no interest,” says your doctor. “I like this better.”

“What do you want from me?” You ask. Yosuke simply laughs.

“Me the man, or me the dream?”

Your brows lower. “You.”

Yosuke holds your waist and dips you back a bit. “Time with you, dear. All I ever want is you. Come now, you know this.”

Despite the closeness of his lips to your neck, you refuse to lose focus. “If Dahlia calls, will you keep me from her again?”

Yosuke’s smile does not falter one bit as he brings you back up and continues to sway with you. “You don’t even know what she looks like anymore, nor who she even really is to you.”

“I remember her voice without realizing it was hers,” you refute this. “That must mean I could remember more.”

Your eyes graze the dimmed outline of the hallway out in the distance, the one you dreamt of before. Your heart picks up in rhythm for just the moment you see it, but Yosuke brings you closer to his body and distracts you.

“It’s not a good idea to try, is it?”

This answer is no more than irksome. “Why is all this happening? Why now? Why not for anyone else?”

“Who’s to say it hasn’t happened for others?” Yosuke chuckles. “Will you ask them? Or have they given up?”

You scowl. “You don’t know anything about them.”

“I know enough,” you’re told in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. Your eyes shift over to the side as you start to see more of your surroundings past the light encircling you, but what you see is no less than alarming.

There are people all around—or at least, you think that’s what they are. It’s hard to tell, but there’s shadowy silhouettes surrounding you now, and you’re not sure just when they showed up. Every turn you make on the floor leaves you facing a new direction and a new set of people, but nobody’s faces are visible. All you see are faceless shadows. It shouldn’t frighten you when they seem so harmless, but your heart can’t help but skip a beat.

Yosuke brings you closer against him as he sways you to and fro. Much to your displeasure, his smile remains intact.

“Distracted, dear?” He calls amusedly. Even so, you can’t shake your gaze from the countless people around you. Desperately, you try to see even one face, but your efforts are in vain. Still, your heart continues to pound.

“Who are they?”

“I was hoping you might know,” your doctor chuckles as he continues to guide you around. The spotlight above you simply follows, honing in on you two directly and not once faltering from its locked position.

“Please stop,” you mutter, eyes still darting back and forth at all the strange shadows. “I don’t like this.”

Your dance continues, to your frustration. With all the unease you feel, suddenly the sway of your body has become dizzying. You wind up shutting your eyes and stumbling, no longer able to keep up with the pace of the dance. Again, you beg.

“Stop, I can’t…”

Yosuke doesn’t listen, and you grow frustrated. Angrily, you grit your teeth and shove him away with both hands, yanking the one he was holding away to press it against his chest and push.

“I said stop!”

You get out from his grip and turn when your body goes back from your pushing force, but when your eyes open, you’re no longer surrounded by shadowy figures or a bright light. In fact, your setting has changed, and all the rich whites and golds in the room have turned into greens and pinks and oranges.

You hear no noise, see no person. All there is now to look at is a fountain, and all the rosebushes scattered nearby it.

Your chest heaves as you suck in heavy breaths due to the alarm, but slowly you’re able to come down. When one of your hands clutches at your bosom, however, you find an unusual fabric over your body. At first, you fear seeing another wedding dress, but that’s not quite what’s there.

Looking down at your feet reveals an off-black pair of dress shoes. On your body is indeed a dress of some kind, but certainly not white. It’s some kind of lavender colored gown with a long, cinched skirt, but you can’t fully tell what it looks like just seeing it from above. No matter how much you widen the skirt, you wind up with the itch to see it another way, especially since you feel some fabric along the bottom part your neck too

Quickly, you step toward the fountain in the hopes that there’s water in it. And, lo and behold, your hopes are met. Slowly, you creep above the thing and look at your reflection in the water, only to be taken aback by your look. Your hair’s been pinned up, and the sleeveless lavender dress reaches to your neck, almost decorating it in a nice, clean, and subtle trim. You tug at the fabric a bit, noting its surface is almost meshy in texture, but thick otherwise with the fabric beneath it being some kind of solid and silky texture.

Your face has makeup, you think. Not much, but it’s strange to see your eyes more defined than usual, even if just by a small, thin dark line at your lashes, and a light dust of color over your brow. Even your cheeks seem slightly more blushy than usual.

It’s all so subtle, yet you feel like it’s not you in that reflection. Something about it seems so foreign. Foreign, yet you’re strangely not surprised by it.

“You look lovely.” You’re taken aback by your doctor’s voice behind you, and jump at the touch of his warm fingers along your shoulder.

Not realizing you’d been hunching over the fountain, your back straightens, and you turn to face Yosuke with uncertainty in your eyes.

“I’ve seen this dress,” you recall. Somehow, seeing his gentle face reminded you. “I drew it, didn’t I?”

Yosuke seems to brush this off, laughing a bit. “I know I said the limitations of permission made it so I couldn’t get you a dress like that, but I suppose you wearing it in slumber is sufficient enough.

Is this just something that’s been in your head? You must just be overthinking it. It’s been said that random things you experience in the real world might pop up in dreams, so this could be the case here, right?

Why are you so bothered, then? Why are you so uneasy?

“What’s happening to me?” You ask as if the Yosuke in your head has an answer. “Why are you here? Why am I? And like this?”

You raise your arm to look down at yourself, but Yosuke takes the opportunity to take your hand again and step closer.

“You worry far too much about things that aren’t important,” he teases.

You beat just once at his chest in frustration. “It’s important to me! Stop being so fucking dodgy. You know something!”

“I only know what you do, frankly.” Yosuke remains unphased, though he takes your other arm by the wrist instead of the hand. You don’t even have the energy to fight, and simply lay your head against Yosuke’s chest and grit your teeth angrily.

“Now dear, don’t hurt yourself overthinking it. Enjoy this respite from the waking world. This place is beautiful, after all.”

“I don’t want to be here with any doctor I’ve met at the facility,” you mutter, voice muffled as it rolls against Yosuke’s shirt.

Your hand goes limp, and so Yosuke drops your wrist and wraps his arm around your waist. Even free, you quietly surrender to him. In defeat, you let your arms drop against Yosuke’s chest and just lean against him.

“I feel trapped,” you relay as he coddles you, reaching up to pet your head. “If this is a memory, I want to be able to enjoy it. But I can’t even do that.”

“You feel burdened by a place you’re supposed to love?” Yosuke supposes. You don’t even have to give a response for him to know the answer.

Suddenly, you hear Dahlia’s voice call out again as it has before, and you grow livid.

“Was I right earlier? You won’t let me see her?”

“I’d prefer it if we stayed here.” You’re unfortunately very aware of the hold Yosuke has on you as he says this, and wonder if perhaps he’s made it tighter now that he’s heard the voice too. Why you can’t control him here is beyond you, but it’s nonetheless infuriating.

“Who was she to me?” You question. But expectedly, Yosuke doesn’t know.

“Will it really help you to find out?” He asks, and you grip at his shirt tightly.

“If I could just see her face….”

“These people are faceless to you. She would be too.”

Your grip strengthens, heart beating frightfully. “These people?”

You’re shaken then by the sound of clapping, head picking up as you then gaze upon the silhouettes from before. Sensing your fright, your doctor holds you closer, but you refuse to sink into him again. Instead, you try to focus on only him, and stare up at his olive eyes desperately.

“But her voice…I have to know it if I’m hearing it so much now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” your concerns are brushed aside, leaving you fuming. You scowl and raise your voice.

“It does matter! Why is it so familiar to me? Every time I hear it, my heart hurts!”

Yosuke seems unmoved, and instead speaks with an undertow of his usual subtle cheekiness. “Your heart, dear? Or your head?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You hadn’t really connected the dots yourself until uttering this aloud. You feel strange about the woman’s voice, and about all the things you’ve heard her say. But now that you’re focusing on it, the thought of her leaving you somehow hurts.

“She must have been important.” It’s an obvious fact, but one you say aloud just to grip it as tightly as you’re gripping your doctor now.

He smiles. “Certainly you already know the answer.”

“I don’t!” You start throwing a fit and shove pointlessly at Yosuke’s chest while still clawing at his shirt. “I can’t remember, and every time I try, I fail to! I don’t know anything about Dahlia. Lucius only said what he did to drive me insane and it’s working.”

When Yosuke starts to chuckle, your anger is so strong that it manages to wind backward, and you just give up as it leaves you so weary.

“You’re cruel,” you mutter, letting your hands finally loosen their grip on the fabric of his shirt and simply rest against him. “How can you watch us suffer like this and do nothing?”

“I could say what you’re thinking and pretend it’s simply because we’re all so mentally unwell,” Your doctor laughs a bit. “But my real answer might not be so in line with your shallow assumptions.”

“This place ruins us both,” you suppose. “Is it better to be ignorant to my fractured memory, or to be so self-aware if only to preserve what little of my old self there was?”

Yosuke ponders this a moment. “Do you want to be your old self?”

Your eyes close again as you try to figure this out. There’s a part of you that feels there’s something unfortunate about who you were. Maybe you want to believe your memories aren’t worth fighting for, because you’re tired of fighting. However, you can’t stop letting this itch get to you, this itch that something is waiting for you should your memories be understood to even the smallest degree. Even if what you’ve been through or who you were before all this isn’t worth knowing, you still want to. It's your right.

“It’d be nice to have a choice,” you say. “I’m tired of all these visions and voices. All these fragments. I wish I knew myself.”

Yosuke chuckles again, low and quiet. “You’ve always known, pet. Even fragments can be put together.”

Suddenly, you hear some noise in the distance. Something loud and quick, so quick you don’t even have time to really think on what it could be. You jump as the noise startles you, but find that when your eyes open, Yosuke, the light, and the crowd are all gone. All there is around you is the ballroom, licked with the same sunset oranges that painted the garden. Ahead, you can see the grand doors and windows leading to the outside, but it’s not the outside that takes your attention.

The noise came from behind you. Upon turning, your eyes lock onto the hall from before, the sight as clear to you now as it had been when you last dreamt it.

Unlike before, you dare not move forward or toward it. You stand there, frozen, hand clutching at your chest.

Your body’s no longer garnished with the pretty lavender gown, you find. Rather, you’re back in your usual pinkish facility garb, feet bare against the wood beneath you. It’s hardly noteworthy, but does take you aback a bit to have been flung from one state of being to another, and another.

But now, you stare in focus at the hall, heart pumping wildly despite knowing you’re in no real danger. Your lips tremble, mouth starting to open for some reason. You try to call out, but find you don’t know just what or who you’re calling for.

Dahlia, perhaps? No, that isn’t it. The name hangs on your lips normally because you heard and said it recently, but you feel that it’s not right. You just can’t piece it together.

Like a child who can’t voice their woes to an adult, you struggle to speak aloud in any comprehensible way that you want to, and do no more than start to tear up watching the hall. Somehow, it’s agonizing to look at now, and your cries are more violent than you ever would have anticipated. It’s harrowing enough to bring you to your knees, and for your hands to cover your face to hide all your sobbing from nobody in particular.

Why do I feel this way?! You beg for an answer that perhaps is obvious, but you’re too shaken to find it.

“…she’s gone.”

The Overseer’s words of her resonate in your head for some reason, and this only makes your grief worse.

You stay behind the veil of dark created by the cusping of your hands over your eyes, remaining in misery as you mourn the loss of a woman you can’t even remember.

All of it starts to numb you, and soon, you no longer perceive anything. Not your hands, not your body, not your surroundings. In moments, you’re nothing.

And then, like a fairytale character, you’re suddenly plucked from that nothingness with a kiss.

Warmth on your lips is what you feel first when you arouse from slumber, but this is only followed by something falling along your cheeks which you recognize to be the same tears you wept while dreaming.

Your first sight is of colors—blond hair, white ceiling, dark red…horns?

You blink a few times to try clearing your vision. Maybe it’s the difficult nature of your dream that’s left a bad impression, but seeing horns on your visitor first thing upon waking almost makes you think you’re still dreaming, or worse.

Upon focusing, you see they aren’t attached to some kind of headband, but they’re also not quite so large and spiraling as you’d imagine horns to be. Rather, they’re short and slightly curved out. Not ornate, but not just one small little shape, either. You suspect they’re being held up by clips or by a headband that’s been neatly hidden by hair. Both doctors do seem to have a thick head of it, after all.

Next, you are more aware of the fact that Nathaniel’s face is close to you, and that he’s holding the back of your head. When he pulls away, you’re taken aback by the fact that the whites of his eyes are now black. In fact, it frightens you at first, before you fully remind yourself he’s just himself and is likely wearing something in his eyes to give him such a strange appearance.

Your eyes then trail down to the apricot tones on his neck, remarking that it’s been wrapped in some kind of black stringy, fabric that you think is a necklace or a choker, though it looks like string’s been wrapped around and around loosely on him. At the base of his neck, his accessory holds a small silver droplet that hangs carelessly.

You’re not sure what’s going on at first until you really start to fully wake, but that only really happens once you accept that you’re here in reality to begin with. The doctors have both dressed up before, sure, but this appearance is a bit jarring to take in just after waking.

Nathaniel watches you with a tender gaze, the usual light brown of his irises now a rich red color. The way he focuses them upon you seems knowing and expectant even with his gentle visage. You’re not much off put by it anymore, knowing it’s only an act. Though, what kind? Will he be wily? Gentlemanly? Demanding?

You lay limp against his hand while another presence is felt brushing up against your shoulder—your naked shoulder. It dawns on you that you’re not clothed. And, in fact, neither is Nathaniel. You blush looking down when you realize the man’s caught you glancing with his gaze still affixed to you. He does not laugh, but rather reaches his free hand up to slowly wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

“Poor girl,” he coos, his voice uncharacteristically low, but also quite characteristically rich and suave as ever. “Crying in your sleep…This is supposed to be pleasurable, not sad.”

You notice his wrist has been adorned and wrapped around with the same ropey item as what’s on his neck, with loops snug around him there. It’s minimal, but not unbecoming. While this picture remains odd, you do start to think he’s dressed like some kind of demon or something, even with the bare minimum accessorization. It’s certainly not a regal look, but you doubt he was going for it.

You feel a kiss on your neck next, and in turn shift your eyes left to see Jonathan attached to your side, arms wrapped around your body and face close up against you enough for his curled hair to brush against the side of your cheek, near your ear. He’s acting quite needy, clinging so much to you as if you had any intention to slip away, while he has absolutely no intentions to let you. The warmth of his arm nuzzles beneath your breasts and over your ribcage, and you blush feeling his lips peck so adoringly against you.

Like his partner, he’s completely nude and wearing contacts to change the appearance of his eyes. Without his glasses, you can see it clearly on his face. And, also like his partner, he seems to be similarly undressed, though his accessories are slightly different despite being positioned the same way. While Nathaniel has his neck and wrists adorned with strings, Jonathan is bound in a rich, deep, red leather collar with a thin metal ring on its center, followed by a silvery chain that hangs down from it. On his wrists are a similar leathery red pair of cuffs, and on his head are the same horns, only black. Both men seem to be wearing the opposite colors, in fact.

You notice there’s no real pain in your body right now, and suppose you’ve been drugged pretty well, especially since you still feel so out of it. Maybe you could chalk that up to the anesthetic, but you’re sure the meds don’t help the grogginess any.

If the men want you to lay still for them, you’ll do so since you’re in no rush to be moving right now. Though, admittedly, you’re a bit blushy having woken immediately to the doting men’s teasing touches. Now that you’ve gotten over their strange appearances, you and your body can more clearly focus on their presence.

Your eyes shift back up to the ceiling, where you can see the four corners of a black bed frame tall above you. Just from the shape of that, you can garner the bed is large enough to more than comfortably fit all the bodies on it right now—perhaps a bit larger than your usual bed. There are curtains around you, blocking the view of anything behind them. You’re led to assume this is another portion of the same room you were in with Nathaniel a while back. You figure it makes sense they’d like to change up their setting so often.

Though you can see spots of white in the room, the bed is large enough and dark enough to block most of that out from where you are. The sheets beneath your naked body feel silken and smooth, and from what you can see of them from the corners of your eye, they’re black. The rich dark shade of this black only makes your visitors’ complexions glow by contrast.

Your toes twitch when you feel Jonathan’s leg wrap around one of yours, and at first you’re taken aback feeling something other than skin brushing against you. After a moment’s contemplation, you realize it’s some kind of long socks or stockings he’s wearing. Attempting to glance down at his legs only confirms that he’s donning these black things that stretch from his feet to above his knees. Nathaniel’s legs are bare, however.

Despite being so flustered by the touching, you don’t bother moving in your unusually comfortable haze as the men coddle you. You feel dizzy, and somehow, it’s not so bad a feeling to have. With all the tender care you receive, a dreamy state only makes it feel…well…better.

Nathaniel watches with his handsome eyes and smiles for his little prize.

“Not afraid?” He questions playfully, teasing at the underside of your chin. “Most girls tend to gasp and cry waking to strange men in their beds. But you? You’re delightfully well-behaved.”

Jonathan’s retorting chuckle breathes light against your neck, and you sigh a bit at the sensation of warmth trailing along your skin.

“She’s probably a bit out of sorts right now. Dazed and still convinced she’s in a dream.”

Nathaniel laughs handsomely and drops his hand to yours, bringing your arm up by your head and holding your hand in his. He pins it against the bed so playfully, but you don’t much move. Your other arm, however, does fold up so that you can clutch at Jonathan’s as it remains wrapped around you. He does not budge as your fingers press into his flesh.

“Who are you?” You question, knowing well how the men prefer you initiate these things. Hearing your voice now feels strange. It’s weak since you’re still trying to rouse from slumber. Though, it’s also a bit croaky since you’d been crying a little. The dream was so strange, so sorrowful, even. But right now, you can’t focus on it enough with both men immediately shaking all thoughts toward them. Though, maybe you don’t mind the distraction. Having a pained heart is unfavorable compared to the numbness pleasure brings. Are you sick for admitting it?

You grow dizzy feeling Nathaniel’s knee as it plants between your legs and presses against the fabric of the bed, and against you. He hovers over your body, completely naked as you are. His heat radiates so closely to you that you’re nearly able to feel him fully without actually touching him.

“Mm? Does it matter?” Nathaniel questions so cooly as his lips reach down to peck at yours. “Poor thing. You’ve no clue what’s about to happen. But rest assured, we aren’t here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

This gets a boyish giggle out of Jonathan, who clings even tighter against you and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His leg pulls back against yours, opening it a bit.

“W-what do you mean?” You stammer a bit, growing genuinely flustered at this game of pretend. You didn’t think you would. “How did you get here? And those horns…”

“Oh? Care to touch them?” Nathaniel brings your hand up to his head, bowing it down so that he can run your finger along its tip. You catch black polish on his nails as he holds your fingers against his horns.

Somehow you expected cheap plastic or something, but it’s fairly stable and sturdy, if lightweight enough to not be easily moved from the hair. If he has it pinned down, it’s indeed pinned well. Though, you’re not about to tug at it for no good reason.

Your hand is returned to the silken fabric of the bed, and again you are teased by the strangely decorated men while trying to avoid your embarrassment at feeling their phalluses pressing against your body.

“We were looking for a pretty, dreaming girl to toy with,” he explains. “Me and my partner here—we found you incidentally. But, admittedly, we’re glad we did. You are so very sweet. Soft. Supple.”

Nathaniel leans over your ear and nips at your lobe, drawing another playful laugh from Jonathan.

“We just want to eat you up,” Nathaniel grins in your ear. “My kind feed off of girls like you.”

“Feed?” You turn away and sigh at the teasing as both men pin your body between them. Whatever cold there is in the room is negated by the pressing warmth of their bodies.

“I guess you don’t know,” he seems amused. “We’re quite fond of your species. Human women in particular are quite lovely. We rely on you for a lot of things—energy, comfort, amusement, reproduction.”

You freeze a bit at the last word. No, these two wouldn’t have teased you about this on purpose. They’re just playing their little games because it’s fun for them. Though strange, you try to push it aside. Surely they won’t overdo the uncomfortable aspects of this role.

“We like to charm you humans and toy with you, feed off your pleasure,” you’re told. “It’s rather fun. But no need to worry, girl. We’re not evil. We’ll cuddle you after if you want. Clean up a bit, maybe even talk to you if you need some cheering up or kind words. We won’t just leave you high and dry like some other humans might. Even creatures like us have class.”

You stare into Nathaniel’s eyes with uncertainty as he takes his hand from under your head, leaves you to rest against the silken pillow underneath it, and runs his fingers along your cheek.

“You know, it’s common for most of us to see multiple humans,” he remarks with a low voice. “But sometimes we find ourselves coming back to the same ones over and over. Perhaps even exclusively one who we claim as our mate. And you’d be surprised just how comfortable those people tend to be with it. We’re quite charming things, you’ll come to find.”

In your flustered focus on Nathaniel, you’re taken aback by Jonathan’s warm tongue running along your neck, then his lips as they suck tightly against your skin. You blush at all the attention, your reaction garnering a handsome chuckle of amusement from your paler visitor.

“No need to worry about anything else but letting us play with you,” he assures you. “We’ll work our magic on you, girl. All those sad things you dreamt of will feel like nothing. And don’t think we haven’t noticed those bruises all over you. We’ll treasure you so much you won’t even remember you had them.”

You’re briefly shaken back to reality when you realize that both men have seen every inch of Lilah’s imprint on your flesh. Whether it concerns them is unclear, but somehow, hearing Nathaniel’s words about it is a bit comforting even if the earlier ones were not. If it’s selfish of you to indulge in that, so be it.

“So you’re demons?” You question between breaths as your neck is continually teased by Jonathan’s lips and tongue.

“Incubi,” Nathaniel corrects confidently. “We’re just here to have a good time. And pardon us for having stripped you preemptively as you slept, but we find that it makes this much easier. We do enjoy our bodies and the bodies of humans. Clothing is but a crutch”

He tilts his head while his fingers continue to run up and down your flesh. “Are you scared? You don’t seem to be with my friend here having his own little good time.”

Jonathan giggles boyishly into your neck before giving it a little bite. “She tastes sweet.”

“Oh? Wonder if that extends to all of her,” Nathaniel smiles coyly as he watches your flushed reactions. “Shall we find out?”

“Me first,” bids his partner rather needily as he presses his body against yours and curls his arm tighter around your torso. “You always get to have all the fun.”

Nathaniel sighs a bit and retracts his hand. “Needy, are we? Well, if you fancy having a little snack, I suppose I’ll allow you to go first. You do have to let her go to move, though.”

This draws a whining groan from Jonathan, though he does give you a rather upfront, mouthy smooch on the cheek before opting to release his hold on you. Amused, Nathaniel chuckles at his partner’s boyish antics, but does move off of you to give Jonathan room to take his place.

Your leg and chest are released from the warmth of Jonathan’s body, but this is quite immediately replaced by Nathaniel’s as he lays on your other side similarly to his partner, slipping one arm beneath you, and the other atop. He’s able to reach your other arm and presses his hand tightly against it to squeeze you against him. Even if you wanted to struggle, it’d be difficult to now.

When your eyes trail down to watch Jonathan as he shimmies back on the bed to reach your legs, you notice that Lucius’ wound on your stomach has been rebandaged, but tightly wrapped in something flatter than the usual cottony dressings. It’s at least less intrusive, though you wager the two men are doing well to ignore it in character while still being mindful of its position. Though you’re hardly a fan of being used, you are grateful for the luxury of not worrying about being harmed while in their hands.

“W-wait, I never said I’d-“ You breathe as Nathaniel’s leg wraps around yours as Jonathan’s had, and tugs it open. You feel Jonathan’s hand grip your other leg and part it, but he doesn’t yet act upon the sight of your spread legs.

Nathaniel chuckles in your ear. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. And you know, if you want the control, you can easily have us do anything you like. Me, you can ask nicely, but my partner here is quite the little slut. One tug of his chain…”

With his free hand, he reaches down to the length of the chain hanging down from Jonathan’s neck and resting upon the sheets, then tugs it toward himself firmly. The act makes Jonathan have to jerk forward a bit, but rather than reacting in surprise, he lets out a boyish moan as he balances atop you, hands placed near your hips.

Nathaniel smirks. “…And he’s all yours.”

You watch uncertainly as Nathaniel passes the chain down to your palm and folds your fingers closed around it. “Command him if you so like, girl. If you prefer not to, I can easily take the reins, otherwise he’ll go on as he pleases so unrestrained. How ‘bout it?”

“I’m not…” You blush. Being demanding is still new to you. You’re not used to being given the choice even though you’ve had the opportunity to take it before.”

“Nervous?” Nathaniel chuckles handsomely as he takes the chain from you. “That’s alright. Let me demonstrate for you.”

He tugs firmly at the chain, making Jonathan blush and moan as his pretty red eyes look up at you both, begging.

“Lap her up good, won’t you?”

Jonathan hardly wastes a moment after being told this, and immediately dives down to start trailing eager, hard kisses from just under your breasts all the way down to your stomach. He pauses there and looks up at your flustered face with a playful, devilish smile, but doesn’t linger for long before continuing down to your thighs. When you can’t help but shift them around a bit in blushing anticipation, Nathaniel tightens his hold on your leg and keeps it open, while Jonathan again presses against your other thigh to spread the rest of you.

“Excited?” You’re teased by Nathaniel’s handsome voice as he rubs a few of his fingers between your breasts and trails them wherever he can reach. The rest of his fingers remain curled up to hold Jonathan’s long chain, but your neck, breasts, and stomach are all teased relentlessly by the rest of his darling touch as Jonathan prepares to attack you with his mouth. Even he’s breathing eagerly between your legs in anticipation, all while taking in the sight and smell of you.

“I don’t know what to think,” you sigh, leaving Nathaniel to give a huff of laughter.

“Lay back and enjoy it. We’ll take care of your fragile body. We know how to work a girl like you.”

He gives the chain in his hand a little tug, and immediately Jonathan brings his face closer to your clit and starts to lap it up. His chin and nose nuzzle between your legs, hot breath pumping against your skin as he gorges himself on what he perceives a delicacy.

A surprised sigh escapes your chest as you’re pounced upon, and your thighs wriggle helplessly as you’re feasted on. But with both men holding you open, closing your legs is no option.

As Jonathan laps at your clit and strokes your thigh tenderly, Nathaniel watches your face and continues to trail his fingers around the curvature of your breasts.

“You get flushed pretty easily,” he teases in amusement. “It’s always so fun when they do.”

Your hands clutch at the silken fabric of the bed as Nathaniel’s fingers reach up along your neck and the underside of your chin until they reach your lips. With a handsome, throated laugh, he slips both of his fingers against your tongue and toys with it. The chain still wrapped in his other fingers hangs down and beats lightly at your chest with every movement forward or backward, the tight chain links airily clinking together.

You feel dirty being watched so amusedly by the man as you’re eaten out, but find the sensation hard to fight. It’s easier to indulge in with them, but your reactions are not necessarily just for play. The assurance of safety with them is so reassuring that you just…

“Ngh!”

Your eyes widen as Jonathan’s pace against your clit changes. He giggles into your legs while hungrily sucking and lapping you up as if you were his last meal. Being licked up by his wet tongue is only making your body shiver. While Nathaniel’s hold on your leg makes it hard to move, your other thigh does eventually rub against Jonathan’s head as you squirm at his mercy, and all this does is entertain him as he rolls incessant, devilish laughter into you. Every twitch you make causes him to go faster or harder, to change up his technique and make you whine.

When one such change makes your body jerk forward slightly, Nathaniel holds you tighter and keeps your body flat on the bed.

He laughs and leans into your ear, hand now retracting from your mouth and starting to paw at your breast. “Feel good?”

Your chest is heaving in breaths while your body is relentlessly worked, so you can hardly manage an answer. Seeing you like this only makes Nathaniel’s smile grow, though he does give the chain another little tug and looks down at his partner, who only briefly looks up without once taking his mouth away from your body.

“Now, now,” he’s tsked at. “You have fingers, don’t you? Quite rude of you not to let her have them.”

His playful tutting only makes Jonathan beam as if he’s delighted by the pretend scolding. In moments, he obeys his partner’s word and immediately starts to bring his fingers to your entrance. Only briefly does he retract his mouth to examine your pussy, separating the licked folds and giggling at the sight of them.

“She’s wet,” he points out with a coy little voice.

“Then your fingers should slip right in, shouldn’t they?” Nathaniel chuckles as he turns himself over enough to more accurately see your face. His arm slips away from under you, and instead he balances atop you while still tightly gripping the chain. He examines your red cheeks with enamor, and can’t help but stroke at the side of your face again. No longer can you see Jonathan with Nathaniel in the way, but you’re taken aback by warmth suddenly pressing into your body, and in response, let out a surprised whine that catches in your throat

As you continue to breathe with the pace of Jonathan’s fingers and tongue picking up the pleasure after the brief respite, you’re left faced with Nathaniel who continues to observe you like an animal watching its prey. His fingers glide up and down your cheek once more, until he eventually teases the underside of your chin instead.

“This one’s so well behaved, isn’t she?” He murmurs as you let out more and more restrained whines with Jonathan’s relentless toying. The heat of his fingers only buries deeper into your cunt, and coupled with the unyielding flicking of his tongue and the onslaught of lively giggles as you amuse him, you’re left a sopping mess.

Nathaniel brings his hand up and shows you the chain, which he casually drops onto the bed.

“I guess he’s riled up enough not to hear me,” He laughs at his realization. He reaches down to your hands and lifts them above your head, pinning them back against the bed playfully. He has to shift carefully over you to reach, but manages to find a way not to be uncomfortable twisting his torso to do so. “Let the greedy little one enjoy his meal. You and I have our own business to tend to.”

With a boyish moan, he reaches down and starts to suck at your mouth, tongue attacking yours as you’re kissed. He goes at you as if he’s hungry for your lips, his fingers curling between yours when your whines roll against his mouth as Jonathan continues to pleasure you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as nothing but euphoria washes over your body, being pinned here and serviced by both men. You’re so out of it that you don’t even want to think about fighting it.

Though their initial look was so simple, somehow you’re really able to trick your brain into feeling like you’re being hounded by such inhuman creatures with how energetic they are in pleasing you.

Your breaths fume out of your nose with each flick of Jonathan’s tongue, each pump of his fingers inside you, and each curl he makes. You’re flustered hearing both him and his partner chuckle at your squirming, at all your shivering and your moaning and all the squelching. Even though they hardly talk after Nathaniel started forcing kisses onto you, it’s like they’re communicating their adoration for your body, their lust, their everything simply through their little noises.

You can’t take it much longer, and soon your whines into Nathaniel’s mouth grow stronger. When he briefly pulls away from his sucking on your lips to watch your face, he laughs. The brief respite from all the muffled moans makes your noises much more audible, and both he and Jonathan hear your heavy pants and sighs much clearer.

Amused, your paler visitor brings your hands to his cheeks and cups his own hands over yours to keep them in place. He gives a charming, knowing smile again.

“Let us pamper your body, girl,” he coos. You do no more than let out muffled cries of pleasure as he forces his lips against yours again. With Jonathan still so relentlessly torturing your cunt with his tongue and fingers, your body starts to roll with the need to come. Your thighs squirm and tremble, your hips roll against Jonathan’s face, and your breaths mix with throated cries.

“That’s it,” Nathaniel breathes as he briefly pulls away to tilt his head. His grip on your hands tightens, and you in turn curl your fingers against his cheeks as your body gives into everything. Jonathan finds the squeezing of your pussy against his fingers and all the incessant bucking of your hips endlessly amusing, and he laughs into you like an amused schoolboy as he continues to toy with your cunt until you can’t think anymore.

Saliva starts to drip out of one corner of your mouth between kisses, but Nathaniel quickly laps it up and keeps on with his playful battle against your tongue. His eyes close as he relishes in your orgasm, fingers and toes twitching as you come into Jonathan’s mouth. Anything you have between your legs, however, is promptly lapped right up by the hungry incubus, but every sweep of his meaty tongue against your clit as your body explodes only makes the sensation stronger.

Eventually, the excitement slows as Jonathan’s touches do, and you’re left lying in a quiet bliss as all that remains is Nathaniel’s kiss. After he sees that you’ve come down, he slowly pulls away again and drops your hands. With a cheeky little breath of laughter from his nose, he watches your red face and wet lips, wide open as you suck in air.

“Beautiful.” His fingers again tease at the underside of your chin. “Very beautiful.”

You’re left in a temporary daze as he shifts himself up on the bed, sitting by your head. He’s not too bothered having his nude body on full display for you, while you still fluster a bit having to bear witness to it all.

Without a care, Nathaniel reaches over and picks up the chain resting by your side. Now that you are able to see Jonathan again, he’s nuzzling his cheek against your thigh now, enamored by your body’s response to him and acting as if he’s the one who got pleasure out of making you come, not just you. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed over as he worships your lower body.

Nathaniel glances over at his partner and smiles while giving the chain another light tug.

“Come up here for a while. I think it’s best we let her calm down from that lapping before we go further.”

Jonathan gives a little moan at the sensation of his collar being tugged, and promptly kneels up so he can crawl over your body.

“Well, girl?” Nathaniel looks down at you. “What would you like him to do?”

You blush seeing Jonathan’s cock hard as he kneels atop you, straddling your hips and pressing his hands against the mattress. Though he watches you with eager eyes, the man does not do more than start to lean down and suck at your neck again.

“You could have him fuck you,” Nathaniel remarks as if it were so simple. “Or you could have him kiss you. What is it you want, girl? A traditional, romantic coupling? A hard and fast ride?”

“I-I’d prefer not to go so fast,” you plead, wincing as your neck is hounded by the eager Jonathan whose boyish, short moans are spilling into your ear. It’s something you’d usually find off-putting, but the way he’s just begging for you without actually saying anything is both embarrassing you and exciting you all at once. “I’m not used to…”

You can’t help but peep a moan and bring your hands to Jonathan’s shoulders when he starts to suck at the crook of your neck.

“Gentle, then?” Nathaniel questions curiously. “Quite traditional. But you are a soft girl, so I guess that’s expected.”

He again tugs at the collar and brings his partner to attention.

“Well you heard the girl, no?” Nathaniel smirks. “Give her lots of love.”

Your fingers dig into Jonathan’s shoulders as he steadies himself on his knees and hunches down to grab your head between his hands. Passionately, he swarms you in a kiss and smothers you in affection until you’ve almost forgotten Nathaniel’s even there. It’s only when you hear his amused laughter and feel his fingers stroking playfully at the top of your scalp that his presence is again brought to attention. Occasionally he just lifts a bit of your hair up and tussles it between his fingers while watching Jonathan’s work on you.

When he’s satisfied by your red face and heavy breaths, the incubus pulls away and starts to move down on your body. He shifts back a bit to reach your breasts now, hovering over them with a hungry look in his eye as your hands slip away from his body and fall to the bed.

Jonathan leans against you, but you notice he occasionally checks your face to make sure you’re not giving off any indication of pain. He does it so subtly, keeping his brief look-ups in character by giving such adoring, glazed over expressions. It’s strange, but almost adorable, you admit.

Nathaniel keeps toying with your head as you lay there being touched so eagerly by his partner. His nimble fingers keep stroking your head and playing with your hair, and even though Nathaniel has yet to bother touching you the way his partner is now, you still feel blissful in his fingers. Your eyes close as he plays with you, body surrendering to the lusty touches of one man, and the sweet touches of the other.

Even when you start to feel warmth and wetness against your nipples as Jonathan’s tongue sweeps across them, you don’t refuse or react beyond a light gasp.

Jonathan’s hands cusp at your ribcage as he rocks his head back and forth to tongue at your breasts, a sensation that is admittedly ticklish and makes you let out a bit of a breathy laugh.

“Oh? She’s ticklish,” Nathaniel teases you as his partner continues to suck and nip at one of your nipples. Your embarrassed, involuntary laughter persists as Jonathan’s thumbs press into your skin. In your little fit, you even bring a hand up to his scalp and clench against his curls, balling some of his hair up in your hand as his own playful laughter rumbles against your chest.

“S-stop!” You giggle. “This is…!”

Each huff of laughter you give off is only interrupted by occasional moans as you’re left in the hands of both men. With Jonathan’s body pressing against you, the heat of his hard cock can be felt as it’s rested between both your bodies.

Eventually, he pulls his head away and lets your hands fall again, red eyes watching you with a mixture of his previous enamor, and amusement. He smiles for you and shifts his body down further, the light fabric of his dark stockings brushing against your thighs as he finally positions himself to fuck you.

You’ve finally come down from your ticklish laughter and are now watching him anticipantly, both uncertain about letting him enter you, yet riled up enough to silently want it.

Briefly, your gaze shoots upward at Nathaniel once you catch sight of his light-colored arm reaching over to pluck one of your hands from the bed. He holds it gently, letting your fingers curl around his as you await Jonathan’s entry. Your eyes lock with Nathaniel’s as you feel the eager incubus currently straddling your hips start to spread your legs with his warm hands.

From below him, the lights from the ceiling cast a glow around Nathaniel, making him seem otherworldly. At first you blush watching him, but your attention is immediately brought back to Jonathan as you feel the heat of his cock start to press past your wet folds and into your pussy.

Both he and you let out breaths as your body is slowly filled by his presence. Jonathan says little as he enters you, but does appear to make sure he doesn’t hurt you and goes slow. Your hand tightens in Nathaniel’s, though he stays quiet with a smile on his face while he lets his partner take you. Were you certain he wasn’t also going to join in at some point, you’d think he were satisfied just watching you be pleasured. But something about his expression, no matter how gentle, makes you certain that Jonathan won’t be the only one getting his fill of your body.

At first Jonathan is sweet with you, thrusting slowly into your cunt and trying to make sure you accommodate his length fully. He even hunches down to start planting endless kisses at the crook of your neck again, letting little moans slip from his mouth and into your ear as his cock is engulfed by your walls. His boyish hunger for your sex only distracts you from feeling him take your other hand and plant it up against the mattress, leaving both your arms pinned up by both men. But with the comfort you find in being wooed and worshiped this way, it’s hard to fight.

Every sweet thrust into your body is intimate—your incubus’s hips roll lovingly against your own, and his body’s warmth remains pressed against you as you’re fucked

“S-so warm,” he breathes into your neck with a hint of longing in his voice that trails into a boyish moan. “She’s so warm…”

You gasp and sigh with each gentle thrust, head pressed back against the bed as you’re pumped so lovingly into. You can’t even really bring yourself to think straight right now, and just let Jonathan take you.

“Warm bodies are alluring,” Nathaniel comments as he studies the glazed expression on your face. “How precious this one is. She’s completely docile. Are you enjoying yourself?”

When you fail to answer beyond a breathy groan as Jonathan’s cock pumps deep into you again, Nathaniel chuckles.

“A good girl indeed. Perhaps we’ll keep you.”

Jonathan laughs between his wet thrusts, his breath huffing against your neck and cheek. “We can’t just take her home with us, can we?”

“I guess not,” is his partner’s chuckling answer as he squeezes your hand. Soon, Jonathan starts to pump more strongly into you as his eagerness to explode grows. And, quite frankly, even with the slow pace of his bucking hips, his deep thrusts and loving affection as he takes you only makes the same eager feeling arise in your body. Your legs tremble against Jonathan’s hips as he pumps and pumps and pumps into you. Every bit closer you get to your desire to come only leaves your hands gripping both men’s tightly.

“Well, we could keep coming after her, couldn’t we?” Nathaniel supposes as he cheekily observes how close you’re getting. His other hand no longer holds Jonathan’s chain, and instead pets your head so sweetly, as before. “I quite like this one. I’d enjoy seeing her again.”

Jonathan giggles into your neck before breathing out again. “Cute little girl…”

Saliva starts to spill out of the side of your agape mouth again as you’re left helpless to both men’s coddling. Your gasps and girlish moans only strengthen as the thrust of Jonathan’s hips do. Once he realizes you’re at your peak, he keeps his pace and his movement stable and watches you with lusty eyes as he awaits your orgasm.

No longer does he stay glued to your neck, but rather hovers over your face to watch yours. Judging by how red his cheeks are and how much he’s straining his lips, he’s fighting back his own orgasm. Somehow, seeing that only makes you more riled up, and you can’t help yourself.

Your hips roll in turn with Jonathan’s with your body starting to let go, fingers curling firmly around both men’s as you let out loud, girlish whines into the air. Embarrassed at being stared at like this, your eyes shut, but your head tilts back as your body gives into all the lust. Your toes curl into the bed, and in the middle of it all, you feel Jonathan finally start to fill you himself. He lets out a loud gasp and slows his pumping pace as his cum spurts into you, crotch bumping against yours with each shortened pump of his hips. Once he’s settled, he simply pushes into you and refuses to leave until his own body settles down.

You feel his chin nuzzle against your neck again, and he lets out nothing but long, boyish groans against you as his cock twitches inside your cunt, spilling the last of its seed inside you.

Both men hold your hands tightly as you lay there being filled by pure warmth. You’re so dizzy in it that you really don’t even want to move. And when Jonathan’s lips slowly peck at your cheek, you realize you’re too limp to even try anyway.

“Comfortable?” Nathaniel eventually questions after a quiet respite. Your eyes slowly open to a squint as the light fills your eyes. The endearing man’s hand continues to run down up and down your head as he relishes in the sight of you. “Truly, he could stay inside you for days if he liked. But I’m eager to have a taste of you myself.”

Jonathan gives a coy smile. “Shouldn’t have let me go first after all, then. I don’t want to leave.”

His greedy gesture leaves Nathaniel frowning a bit. Not in a way that he looks much upset by his partner, but still enough to seem displeased.

“Is this the thanks I get for being generous?” He questions with a lowered brow. His hand leaves yours, and he instead picks up the chain from the silken bed and tugs it harshly. “Greedy boy. Come on. You’ll still get to touch her. Trade places with me.”

Nathaniel awaits his partner’s obedience, but Jonathan doesn’t immediately get up. He whines from his throat a bit, but when his collar is tugged again, he finally moves. Carefully, he pulls out of your pussy and leaves behind a messy trail of cum. You wind up squeezing your thighs together instinctively as the feeling of wetness dribbling out of you makes staying open uncomfortable.

As the men change their positions on the bed, you stay limp against it, eyes closing again while the sound of limbs gliding along the silken sheets and chains rattling from one end of your body to the other ring out in your ears.

The light that beats against your eyelids from above is soon replaced by shadow, and when you open them once more, Nathaniel is there above you, reaching a hand out to pet your cheek. His legs straddle yours as Jonathan’s had, keeping you pinned down.

“She seems quite sleepy after just that,” Nathaniel remarks handsomely as he continues to pet you. “This girl is so precious, isn’t she? Don’t worry. You can rest well after we’ve had our fun.”

Your head turns to one side when you peep a figure there, and you catch sight of Jonathan having settled his hips by your head, leaning his body against his side and balancing it on one elbow. His free hand pets your head, his red eyes focused on your flushed face when you realize his cock is so close to it.

The moment you notice it, Nathaniel’s hand comes down to your chin, and he brings your face back toward him so that he can envelop you in a kiss. You’re briefly caught off guard, so you can’t help but let out a fractured peep of a moan in response, something Jonathan can’t help but laugh at.

“I see why you wanted to watch,” he teases. “This is so darling!”

As Nathaniel’s lips swarm yours, his body shifts and presses atop your own. His hands glide along the silken sheets beneath you until his hand has reached your arm, which is still bent by your head where your palm is facing upward. He grabs it so tenderly, pressing his thumb against your wrist and curling his fingers against your flesh.

Jonathan’s hand no longer stays affixed to your head. Rather, in his fascination watching Nathaniel kiss you, and still with his hunger for more arousal, he has now begun to stroke his cock. From the corner of your eye, you can see him move his hand up and down so slowly, just enough to tease himself. Whether he’s only acting or is genuinely aroused is uncertain, but he’s letting out such deep breaths watching you two that it’s hard to ignore.

Once Nathaniel pulls away, he does not leave your lips without giving them a loving bite and letting them pluck away. For a moment, he looks on at you with the same enamor his partner had earlier, but quickly, his gaze shifts to the titular man as his hand continues to work his shaft. Nathianiel only smirks.

“I see you’re getting excited over there,” he teases. His hand, still gripping your chin, turns your head back to where it was before, facing Jonathan. “Look at him. Horny little boy. Perhaps you should give him a little help. Open your mouth, won’t you?”

Your lips tremble in hesitation, but Nathaniel only chuckles at your bashfulness and squeezes at the sides of your mouth to encourage the popping open of your lips. Seeing Nathaniel’s attempt to help, Jonathan giggles and shifts his hips closer your way, guiding his cock toward your lips and pressing it past them until his tip is nuzzling against your tongue. You whimper a bit and squeeze your eyes shut, but neither man seems interested in letting you back out now.

“Just a little taste,” you’re encouraged as Nathaniel’s lips meet your ear. He whispers sweetly, sending a shiver down your spine. “Give it a little lick now and then. He likes that.”

With a kiss to your cheek, Nathaniel finally lets your wrist and chin go, and moves down the bed, adjusting his knees between your legs this time. He has to spread them a bit to do so, but by the sound of his coy, handsome laughter, you’re sure he’s not the least bit unhappy to take on the task.

He carries one leg against his hip, but the other he leaves open for a bit as his fingers spread your folds open. His digits poke and glide along your slit, eyes examining the creamy mess Jonathan left inside you.

“He’s always so eager,” he remarks curiously, sticking the tips of two of his fingers inside your entrance just to feel at it. Your legs tremble a bit at the sensation, piquing his curiosity. Your eyes keep shifted his way as Jonathan continues stroking his cock and letting his tip rest against your tongue. Whatever juices were on it before still linger on his flesh, so you’re forced to taste both himself, and yourself.

You find it strange he isn’t making you take the length of his cock down your throat, but the incubus seems hellbent on teasing you with his cute little moans and his long strokes. Meanwhile, your legs are caught in the hands of the other incubi, who is taking his sweet time examining your sopping cunt before he decides to fill it. You’re almost impatient, despite being embarrassed by how slow they’re going and how much they’re teasing you like this.

Despite that, you’re not really about to struggle any more than you were earlier. Your hands stay just where the men left them, though they’ve since turned toward your head to grip at the fabric you’re resting upon.

The trembling of your legs catches Nathaniel’s attention rather quickly, and he smiles so sweetly as his fingers dig deeper into your pussy.

“Such an eager girl,” He calls you out so cheekily. He rubs his fingers against your walls, slowly pulling them in and out as you huff out breaths from your nose. “If only we could keep you forever.”

You have no clue at what point Nathaniel’s fingers slipped out of you, but you’re taken aback when the sensation of his cock prodding against your entrance replaces that of his digits. When you attempt to turn and look, Jonathan briefly takes his hand away from his shaft, and presses it firmly against your head to keep it in place.

“Stay,” he pleads babyishly. “You feel so good.”

From the corner of your eye, you catch Nathaniel grabbing your other leg and hoisting it up just a little, enough to make it easier to start pumping into you. The moment he’s satisfied with his adjustment, he presses his weight into you, and with how wet and creamy your pussy has already gotten, his cock slides much easier.

The heat of his phallus presses further into you, widening your walls and filling every bit of you. Nathaniel grunts a bit as his cock is overwhelmed by your warmth, but his satisfaction in watching you beneath him, thighs in his hands and hips beneath him wriggling about in all the excitement, is clearly painted on his smirking face.

“You were right,” he tells Jonathan under his breath. “She’s very warm. So perfect around my cock.”

Jonathan only giggles and returns his hand to his own phallus, gliding his hand back and then forward until the fingers furthest from his base touch against your lips

Briefly, the incubus between your legs pulls back, before pumping his hips against you with a deep thrust. The wetness between your legs only makes the act noisier, and then the deep filling of your pussy again leaves you whimpering.

“Does it hurt?” Nathaniel questions so dearly. You struggle to shake your head no, so all you do is let out a muffled answer into Jonathan’s cock. While you think it sounds garbled, it seems Nathaniel has no trouble understanding. He smiles for you and presses his fingers tighter against your thighs. “Good.”

Again, he thrusts so strongly, letting out a deep, concentrated breath out between his teeth.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. “Every inch of you is perfect. I suppose my patience paid off.”

Between his sultry breaths and Jonathan’s eager moans, you’re lost in a sea of noise from both men vocalizing their pleasure for you.

“I’m going to start pumping, girl,” you’re warned. “Relax for me. I’ll try to be gentle.”

Your toes curl as Nathaniel’s hips begin to roll and he thrusts in and out of you. As promised, he takes it slow, but his pumps are powerful compared to Jonathan’s. Each one rocks your body, makes your breasts bob, and leaves you clutching the bed as if your life depended on it. Muffled whines spill against Jonathan’s cock, but apparently that only entices him further. His strokes quicken in pace the more his observation of Nathaniel fucking you arouses him.

“Y-your tongue,” he whines eagerly. “Oh god, it’s…”

With each thrust Nathaniel makes into you, your body shifts a little, and so too does the position of Jonathan’s cock. Since your body moves, so too does your tongue, even if just barely. The titillation is enough to make Jonathan more noisy as he yearns for a chance to explode in your mouth. But like before, he waits it out as much as he can, eyeing his partner’s thrusting hips and staying keen to his eager huffs of breath.

“One of you please come already,” he begs between breaths, fingers digging into the bedcover in his anxious desire. “Please….”

“Well, aren't you impatient?” Nathaniel huffs some laughter out while continuing to pump in and out of you. His hips dip and buck so rhythmically and with such control that you’d think he was a machine. All you can do is lay there and take him, letting moans roll out of your mouth. Your face is hot and red, chest heaving with each breath. Your girlish whines only seem to motivate Nathaniel, as he smirks watching you reap pleasure from his fucking of you.

“Almost there?” He questions you with a cock of his head. “You’re sucking me up so eagerly. You humans are so fascinating in your lust.”

While Jonathan does his best to hold off, he soon can’t help himself. You feel the pulsing of his cock even against your lips, and while his hand continues to squeeze and stroke at it, the head soon spurts out cum against your tongue. Jonathan whines and grunts as he expels his load all over your tongue, painting it white and coating your mouth with his taste.

Jonathan’s fingers press and squeeze against his cock as he comes, and you’re left to keep your head still while accepting each drop of him against your tongue. Some of it drips against the inner walls of your cheek and mixes with your saliva, and with how much there is still dribbling out of the incubus even after the initial burst, you’re forced to swallow it.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he apologizes to Nathaniel. “I couldn’t…”

Strangely, the incubus still pumping into you only chuckles between his grunts. “Don’t be so modest, now. We’re both a little bit excited.”

Jonathan smiles and slowly pulls his cock away from your lips, leaving a trailing strand of his cum and your saliva from the orifice. With your mouth freed, you suck in breaths through it instead and turn your head back up toward the ceiling.

“Oh? She sounds so close,” Jonathan laughs and rubs at the top of your head. “Do you want more cum, sweetie? All you have to do is beg for it.”

You try to talk, but struggle to beyond uttering a few stammering syllables. Both men give an adoring little laugh at your expense.

“Oh, she’s so cute,” Jonathan breathes. He finally shifts to his knees and sits positioned a little bit behind your head. With both hands, he hunkers down over your head and cusps it in his grasp. The light above is again engulfed in one of your visitors, but you’re too glazed over to think about anything more than the feeling of Nathaniel pounding into you so intensely. He keeps you still so as not to hurt you by being too rough, but all his thrusts are strong enough for you to feel powerless beneath him.

Jonathan gets closer to your face with a sweet smile and lets out a little moan before shutting your girlish whines and pants of pleasure up with his mouth. Only occasionally does he pull away and whisper to you.

“Come,” he pleads breathily before attacking your lips again. “Just come for us.”

Your hands shakily reach up to grab his, eager to grab onto anything else than just the sheets, but the incubi only giggles into your mouth at the desperate gesture.

“Good girl,” he sighs. “That’s it.”

Nathaniel’s grunts and breathy pants only intensify the longer he fucks you, and while you’re in bliss being edged on by the sultry incubus at your lips, the one at your legs in turn is begging to fill you.

He is unable to give much of a warning, but by the intensity of his noises, you know well he’s about to let go. Something about the combination of his desperation and Jonathan’s sweet voice leaves you a mess, and you can’t help but feel the explosion of lust spark and set off inside you. Your whines louden, and your hips and thighs tremble and shake as you let go. In turn, Nathaniel’s cock trembles inside of you, and he wastes no time spilling his load deep inside your cunt with a rolling groan from his throat.

Jonathan laughs like an imp, over and over as he watches the both of you orgasm. His kisses intensify, and he pulls away and strikes you in short bursts as he relishes in your pleasure.

“Good girl, good girl!” He moans between smooches. Nathaniel says nothing, simply breathing heavily as he stays still with his creamed-up cock deep inside you. His chest puffs up as he breathes, and in his pleasure, his mouth remains agape and sucking in air.

Even as your orgasm winds down, the warmth in your body, and the trembling in your legs does not subside. You simply lay there recovering. Once you’ve come down, Jonathan finally lets you go, and he simply watches with a dear smile.

“Looks like she’s really out of it now.”

Finally stable again, Nathaniel smirks when his eyes catch sight of the mess you became.

“We do really have that effect on them, don’t we?” He muses. Slowly, he pulls out of your body and sets your legs back on the bed with delicate care. Quietly, he shifts over to sit by them rather than keep hovering over your body. While letting you lay there to come out of your dazed spell, he reaches toward the chain on the bed and again tugs lightly at it. “Now you do remember I don’t much like leaving myself a mess, mm?”

“I didn’t forget,” Jonathan blushes. “I was just waiting, is all.”

You watch as he crawls over to his partner and kneels down to start cleaning his cock of all the juices. You’re much too frazzled by all the activity to really be surprised or turned away from it, and so all you do is watch with glazed eyes as the sprightly incubus laps up and sucks away the mess from his partner’s phallus as if it were candy. He seems to beam as Nathaniel’s hand tussles Jonathan’s hair, petting him as he does his work. The lively incubus’s tongue moves so sensually up and down his partner’s shaft that it makes you press your legs together in response, as you can only imagine the same tonguing being done to you earlier.

With one last upward flick, Jonathan pulls away from Nathaniel and gives a happy little smile. “Better?”

“Much,” Nathaniel nods as he nuzzles the young man’s cheek with his palm. “Thank you.”

He then turns his head toward you and smiles gently. “The human still needs our attention. It’d be rude to neglect her after using her, wouldn’t it?”

Jonathan nods enthusiastically, but does not respond. At once, both men surround you, shifting on the bed to coddle you on either side. Nathaniel turns your body to face him, and your arms are cradled against his chest. Jonathan, meanwhile, comes from behind and nuzzles against the back of your neck while his arms wrap around anything they can—one snaked beneath your body and nuzzled between your breasts, the other resting around your waist, hand on stomach.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, holds your waist, arm brushing against his partner’s, while his other hand nestles under your head to support it. He smiles for you while his partner trails kisses along your neck. While you’d normally fight so much against all this closeness with doctors, you’re so enveloped in warmth and so comfortable in your dizziness that you just accept it.

“It’s good to be surrounded by warmth after this kind of thing,” he murmurs. “Thank you for being so well behaved. You were lovely.”

“Is it over?” You mumble tiredly. Whether that’s in character or not, it doesn’t much matter. But Nathaniel gives a light nod, making it clear what’s going on now.

“We’re sorry we didn’t get to see you sooner, but I suppose a lot of things were going on even after you returned,” Nathaniel responds in his more usual voice. “We were quite worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine,” you suppose. But Nathaniel hardly seems content, and gives a frown.

“You don’t look it.” Strangely, he sounds genuinely concerned. “What happened to you? We were both surprised to see you so beat up yesterday, but we didn’t get a chance to ask, nor did your doctor go into details. Nobody had mentioned you would be hurt until quite recently, so we worried about how to accommodate you after seeing all the bruises up close.”

“Lilah,” is all you say, and both men appear to understand without further question. However, Nathaniel trails your arm with his free hand and observes your bruises unhappily.

“I’m surprised she saw you. Hopefully it wasn’t for more than one visit.”

When you shake your head no, Jonathan tries to chime in instead. “In any case, Ten, we’re glad you’re okay. I certainly hope this wasn’t too jarring for you.”

“The eyes were different,” you admit sheepishly. “But…I didn’t feel any pain, so it was fine.”

Nathaniel chuckles a bit. “We should hope so. The eyes were the hardest part, frankly. I don’t really like putting in contacts despite having worn them for other things before. But I figured it’d help solidify the appearance.”

Jonathan briefly pulls away from you, but you can’t really turn to see why until he returns. You hear him shuffling a bit and reaching over the bed, and only when his hand is in your sight again do you realize he has a syringe.

“Stay still,” Nathaniel bids you as he scoots the hand under your head up a little more enough to hold it down. You eye the syringe unhappily, but obey and leave your neck exposed for Jonathan to try his hand at injecting you this time. Once the drug’s been pumped into you, the syringe is left aside, and Jonathan returns to wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling up against you from behind.

“We’ll stick around, of course,” he assures. “We feel bad seeing you like this.”

Nathaniel’s free hand reaches up to pet your cheek. “I hadn’t expected to improvise so much.”

“Improvise…?” You question tiredly, and the man nods.

“Yes. A lot of this was altered so that you were going to be in one single position. Initially it was going to be far more involved, but we didn’t want to hurt you. But what struck me most of all was seeing you cry. Is there a reason for that?”

Your hands ball up against his chest as you remember what you’d been dreaming of before all this. The sex was a nice distraction, but now you have nothing to distract you anymore.

“I had a bad dream,” is all you say. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jonathan hugs you tighter, his breath spilling on your neck as he lets out a huff of laughter.

“You know, we really enjoy spending time with you and the others. If you need a distraction-“

You let out a sigh feeling your body be squeezed so tightly, but stay steadfast in your refusal now that you can think clearer.

“I appreciate—ngh—the offer, but I’d rather not get comfortable with you that way even if I know you won’t hurt me. But fine, if you’re offering.”

You only really said the latter portion to prevent further conversation on the topic. Truthfully, you won’t request the men even if it might be in your best interest. Yosuke might not like the idea if he happens to see it as playing favorites. His own suggestion for your safety is one thing, but being adamant about seeing them is another.

Nathaniel gives a tender smile and brushes his hand along your arm. “Well, do understand if you ever want to see us, we’ll be here for you. We do love getting our visits together.”

You shift your eyes away as both men coddle you. The anesthetic has yet to take hold, but you do feel it gradually beginning to work through you.

“Why incubi?” You ask unhappily. “The remarks you made earlier put me off. I don’t know if I’m right, but I think I know what they are.”

“It was honestly a toss-up between that or vampires,” admits Jonathan with a light, endearing laugh. “We can be any other kind of monster any other day if you like. We’ve found that others don’t always respond so badly to it, beyond initial confusion.”

“Are you really still so worried about that?” Nathaniel catches your meaning and frowns. When you open your eyes and look up at him in confusion, he explains himself. “I admit, I’ve heard from Monica that you’re still impregnable. I’m sure she must have explained it to you if she ever saw you about it. Evidently she must have if I didn’t have anything to do with that information.”

You grimace, put off at first by Monica being so open about something you felt was private, but Nathaniel tries to be reassuring.

“She did ask me to keep it under wraps, of course. It was only a casual conversation between two like doctors. No more. These are simply things I need to know, given my expertise.”

“And you chose this role knowing what I’m dealing with?”

“I tried not to focus on that part of it,” is the man’s only answer. You’re still a bit grumpy that Monica was so willing to talk about this with him, but figure so long as they’re both willing to keep their mouths shut about it to any other doctors, it’s fine enough.

“So?” You’re snapped to attention. “Is there something the matter?”

“It just scares me,” you mumble. “I don’t know what to expect. The fear of what will happen to me and to my body is so strong. Even with everything I’ve overcome, the fear of what I don’t know still haunts me.”

Nathaniel brings his arm back over your waist by Jonathan’s own arm, and keeps his gaze affixed to you. Despite seeming unhappy at your displeasure, he tries to keep smiling.

“Well, a pregnancy can be a beautiful thing,” he argues in its favor. “A strange process, of course. But in the context of this facility, I think there’s no need to worry. Not in your case. Your body’s been so resilient to all the things it’s been put through so far, hasn’t it?”

“But what about the girls who haven’t been fine?” You question, fingers curling into your fist while still stuck on the man’s bare chest. “I know girls have died here. I know about Eleven and I know about the previous Two. You can’t tell me there’s not a risk involved even if they were only stepping stones.”

You find that neither he or Jonathan really give you an answer, and instead exchange quiet glances at one another. It’s quick, but telling.

“Are we…allowed to…” Jonathan questions his partner, but Nathaniel looks away and tries to think to himself. Before they can reject you, you quickly speak up.

“Your boss said I could discuss her freely.”

“Boss?” Jonathan seems surprised. “Nat, is she-“

“She did see him, yes,” the blond man answers. “I don’t know everything, but just enough. I don’t doubt he’d have let talk of that girl slide given he doesn’t care for certain past things.”

Jonathan seems unconvinced. “Ah, I dunno…are you sure?”

“It’ll be alright.”

You shake your head. “It’s not her that I want to know about. I know enough. What are you doing to the girls here that do end up pregnant? Why are they sometimes completely removed?”

Nathaniel keeps his smile and brings his hand over your mouth. “Please hush, Ten. I know you’re quite the inquisitive girl. I’m quite willing to help you now and then, but I don’t think that’s something my superior would like me telling you.”

“Besides,” Jonathan urges to help his partner. “That drug will take you soon. Will you remember what either of us says even if we did tell you?”

You bring your hand to Nathaniel’s and pull it away. “I’m not about to jeopardize your life here if it also means jeopardizing my own. Please. Gale’s already helped me. You’re their friend, right?”

“Ten, Gale’s case is different from our own,” Nathaniel warns. “Some things I’m willing to do, but this is probably not one of them.”

You try to sit up, but Jonathan keeps his hold steadfast on you and urges you to stay on the bed.

“Please understand—we’re not upset that you’d ask. We’re worried what will happen if we answer.”

You try to fight against being held down, but both men assure that you remain between them, holding onto you tightly.

“Please,” you beg. “I’m really scared about it, alright? When Yosuke finds out, he’s going to try getting me pregnant. I know how he is, and I couldn’t ever change his mind. If he keeps trying and I end up that way, I just want to know what to expect.”

“Ten…” Nathaniel warns again, but you refuse to stop.

“I just want someone to put my mind at ease!” You look up at him with desperate eyes. “Am I going to be okay?”

Nathaniel looks at you for a long while, but does not answer right away. It’s not until he sighs that he does.

“Let me get myself back in sorts. I’ll answer you once I’m cleaned up and dressed.”

“No,” you refuse, tugging at his arm when he tries to let go of you and get up. He only really makes it to sitting up before he’s stopped. “You’re just biding your time until I pass out. Tell me.”

He does not respond, and Jonathan reaches up to take your arm away from Nathaniel’s, holding it against your chest to keep you pinned.

Neither man speaks, but nor do you. All Nathaniel does is look you over, sigh again, and turn around on the bed. His legs swing over its edge, and slowly, you watch as he tugs away the stringy rope on his wrists and unclips the pretend horns from his hair. One by one, he undoes every article on his body, saving the uncomfortable task of removing his contacts for last. You presume these should be stored somewhere, yet he doesn’t bother to and simply discards the things on the floor, having no intention to reuse them. When he’s back to his old self, it’s then that he turns back your way.

The usual soft blond hair and gentle light brown eyes greet you as he smiles. With everything removed, he looks just like his old self.

“Jon.” He speaks his partner’s name so gently, but the man knows just what he’s asking. Your mouth is quietly covered, all while Nathaniel puts a finger to his lips to remind you not to speak.

“The drug he uses causes a few issues with your reproductive systems,” he tells you lowly. “But as far as childbearing goes, we usually remove what’s there when we find out you’re pregnant. The process is survivable for both mother and child, but most babies haven’t been fully formed by the time we learn they’re there, and many women are often so drained being in this environment and drugged up beyond reason that their bodies sometimes just don’t last long even when they do get through the procedure.

“There have been instances where they survive, as with your group’s prior Two, but in her case, she was given more of the same memory-altering drug that only worsened her condition. Others have gone on to survive for longer. And Eleven, well, she’d have died one way or the other with how gone she was already.”

He sighs. “Ten, you will be okay. You may not even be conscious for it all. But it’s not just your body you’re worried about, is it?”

You shake your head slowly, leaving Nathaniel to frown. “I can’t predict if he’ll wipe your memory. It’d be convenient, I wager. If you’re very lucky, you may just end up back with Yosuke. If not…I couldn’t say. But again, judging by what I’ve seen of you, you’re more than likely going to be physically fine. At the very least, you’ll survive a bit longer.”

You reach up to tap at Jonathan’s hand, making muffled noises into it. Nathaniel seems hesitant to let you speak, but ultimately motions for his partner to release you.

“You said they could survive. Both,” you remark, keeping your voice low. “The girls I know just get returned. But you also said most babies aren’t fully developed. So that must mean there are some who were. What happens to the children? Are there any?”

Nathaniel looks away. “I’m not sure. We’ve had a few, I think. Cute things, but they were taken away by nurses under his order. I presume he doesn’t want us getting attached and trying to protect them. And I don’t know that man well enough to confidently say he’s so heartless that he’d hurt a child, but I want to believe it’s possible that he isn’t.”

“Neither of us want to think about it,” Jonathan chimes in from behind you, voice low and disdainful. “They have no records. He could have done whatever he wanted with them.”

“A full pregnancy is rare anyway,” is Nathaniel’s bare attempt to try looking past the negative. “And as of late, pregnant women are even rarer. Not since the other two and you have there been fertile women in this facility.”

Strangely, he laughs to himself. “It only makes me wonder sometimes—why let them get pregnant? Curiosity? This is a playground for him after all. At least, that’s all I see of it.”

You start to feel dreary atop all the looming exhaustion, but do try to keep awake enough to keep at the conversation.

“What…would he even want with children…?”

Nathaniel looks your way and smiles again. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Ten. Research of some kind, perhaps. I know he’s a stickler for it, but I’m not sure he’d go that far.”

He then observes your drooping eyes and opts to move himself closer to you. Nathaniel does no more than sit by your side and reach over to pet your head.

“Sleepy?” He chuckles a bit. “It’s best if you get some rest. None of this should ever leave the room, alright? Gale seems to put their faith in you, and so shall we.”

You nod tiredly, but as you’re prepared to fall into another slumber, something about what he said starts to sit poorly with you.

It’s hard to focus, but all his words about children only shakes you. Something isn’t right, and you hope to god that what you try to ask next before you fade away is met with a negative answer.

“D’…they ha…ve…doc…?” You mumble incoherently, trailing off as your body starts to numb. Nathaniel’s fond stroking of your hair does not let up.

“I think she’s drifting off,” you hear him tell Jonathan. To your dismay, it doesn’t seem like he recognized your groggy speech as words. Your eyes soon close, but you don’t yet fall into a slumber. However, you do soon feel Jonathan’s hold on you loosen as he no doubt sits up.

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” he tells Nathaniel unhappily. His voice sounds cloudy, and only barely are you able to focus on it. Your eyes long to open again, but they feel glued shut. “All three of us could get hurt here.”

“I made my choice, Jon. It’ll be fine. I just figured it might help her.”

“Because you felt bad? Last time you did, he didn’t like it, and you lost a patient. You could have died, but he gave you a warning. He won’t be so nice again.”

“That was only one time. I learned how to be quieter about my kindnesses after that,” Nathaniel refutes this. “And I would have lost her regardless. Those two just happened upon her for observation. I suppose the results were useful to us all. Though, I’m not fond that Lucius apparently lied about the limit.”

“You’re still deluded about it?” Jonathan seems shocked. “Have you been telling others you had nothing to do with it?”

“Yes. I’d like to think it was incidence.”

“It was premeditated. He sabotaged her dose on purpose. If you hadn’t let your mouth run, none of this-”

“Jonathan.” Nathaniel’s voice snaps at his associate in a way you’ve never heard it before. But as if in regret, the man immediately lowers it and sighs. “My heart cannot take the reminder. We’ve both lost patients. We’re both at fault for a lot of things.”

Jonathan pauses before softening his tone. “I’m…I’m sorry. But my point is, Gale can take those risks. We can’t. You saw what the boss did the first time. I know you feel responsible for the girls whose bodies you have to eventually deal with, but neither of us can afford this kind of risk.”

You start to feel yourself completely slipping away, but in your intrigue, attempt desperately to keep awake enough to hear both men speak. Your hearing gets gradually worse, but with both men still close to you, their words are audible enough to understand.

“Well, if for any reason this does get traced back to us, I’m the one who encouraged it,” is Nathaniel’s blunt response. “You needn’t fret. Gale’s said the girl’s learned more than she lets on, but has kept a lot of it to herself. I see no reason to fear her blabbing recklessly. In any case, I’ve broken a few rules before anyway. We all have, to some degree. The boss usually never finds out so long as we are quiet and keep our heads down.”

“Nat…I just don’t want to lose you. And I certainly don’t want to see you so down again. Why not let Monica take over for this one? It doesn’t have to be your responsibility anymore now that she’s here.”

There’s a polite laugh procured from his companion, and you hear a bit of shuffling followed by a light kiss.

“You’re always a worrywart. Thank you for thinking of me, Jonathan. But I know what I’m doing now. Should she end up pregnant, I will see the girl if it is his wish for me to. Now, keep your smiling face, and we will live. Alright?”

“I know.”

“We should go. Let’s leave this one to her doctor.”

You don’t really hear them get up or shuffle around after this, but suppose it doesn’t much matter. Knowing that you can’t resist sleep any longer, you give into it and all the dizziness in your head. Only just before you’re gone do you again feel a hand gently stroking your hair.

Chapter 87: Rest Thirty Six - Complicated

The first thing you feel is your finger twitching. White light beats on your eyelids, but you don’t really bother opening them until a shadow eventually blocks all the brightness. As you wake, the hand of your doctor grazes your forehead and brushes back into your hair. It takes a moment to adjust, but you soon see Yosuke’s face clearly as he looks over you with a kind smile.

“Welcome back,” he greets you. Your eyes catch sight of a syringe in his hand—empty. You just presume he’s given you more vitamins or something.

Seeing him now only makes your mind glimpse over the dreams you’ve had with him. At first, this accidentally leads to you wondering whether this is a dream too, but it’s the warmth of his hand as he pets you, and the cold air biting at your skin that makes you understand this is real.

“Are you fully awake? How do you feel, dear?”

“Sleepy,” you mutter, drawing a laugh from your doctor.

“Of course. I mean your body, darling. Does it hurt?”

You try to assess it. “No.”

Upon glancing around and seeing white countertops and walls, it’s clear you’re back in your main exam room. When you calmly ask why you’ve been brought here, Yosuke simply says he wanted to tend to you before bringing you to the hall.

“No need to worry, dear,” he assures you with another pet of your head. Now that you’re more aware, you realize your hair’s a bit damp. Perhaps the wetness on your head and any that might be on your skin is why the air feels so especially cold now.

Yosuke discards the syringe and a glove on his hand, then returns to you. The bed, first flat, is now raised up. You simply sit idly as your doctor brings you breakfast on a tray. Evidently he still wants you to eat plenty if he’s giving you so much—there’s a cup with blended fruit, some hearty omelette dish, and a few pieces of toast for you, complete with a bottle of water. You’re fed this time, and despite not feeling all that hungry, you eat what you can anyway.

“Is something the matter?”

Yosuke’s question takes you off guard, but perhaps you were giving off a morose look and didn't realize it. You simply shake your head between bites of egg.

Your doctor is hardly convinced. “Come, now. I know that look. You can talk to me, pet. Have you been having bad dreams again?”

“You could say that,” you mutter. Yosuke only raises a brow, but does not say much about this response.

“And the voices?”

“Not as many. Just hers sometimes.”

“And has she said anything new?”

“No.”

He ponders this a moment, but eventually drops it.

“Well, I suppose so long as it isn’t making you so hysterical, it’s an improvement,” he wagers. “You’ve been concerning me lately.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m not hysterical. I have a reason to be afraid and confused. Anyway, it’s not like you can help it since I’m the one dealing with it. But I can’t even control what happens in my own head sometimes. It’s maddening.”

“Be that as it may, dear, you know that digging does little to help alleviate your panic,” your doctor presses. “Now, open your mouth.”

Once breakfast is over, you drink as much of the water as you can stomach, and then let your doctor brush your teeth with items he took from your room. The last thing he does in his tending of you is feed you more pills. Him placing them on your tongue only makes you unpleasantly remember Eight’s discomfort at having had to do the same.

Strangely, looking at Yosuke, it’s hard to separate the dream version of him from the man you see now. You’re almost convinced that just earlier, he was there dancing with you. You know it wasn’t real, but now that he’s actually here after what happened, it just feels strange.

After the tray is put back on a nearby counter and Yosuke returns to you, he suddenly smiles to himself. “My, you don’t often stare at me like this. Something’s on your mind, then, isn’t it?”

You blush and immediately shift your eyes away. “There’s not much else to look at.”

Yosuke stares at you a moment before widening his smile. “Ah? So you’ve been dreaming of me.”

“That’s not-“ You stop talking when the back of his hand slides against your cheek.

“How cute,” he chuckles. “My pet. I certainly hope the dreams with me are good ones.”

“You haven’t been the most awful part of them,” is all you tell him. It’s an honest statement given the terrible things you’ve endured and felt in your dreams of the garden lately, but perhaps your phrasing and the lack of context only feeds the man’s ego. He only relishes in your words.

“What a needy girl. Unfortunately, so long as I’m being kept busy upstairs, dreams of me are all you’ll have to keep you going. But don’t worry. I have every intention of spending time with you as soon as I am able.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, you think, though say nothing to Yosuke.

With the moment passed, your doctor returns his focus to his current task, and scoops you up in his arms.

“Anyway, we should get going.”

You lay limp as he takes you away. You’re groggy, yes, but for some reason you can’t help feeling down after the dream you had. You know Dahlia’s dead by now, but it hurts to think so. Why now, though? Would you have hurt if you never knew she was close to you? Or would you still feel pain?

You don’t know what kind of woman she was. Soft? Spirited? Maybe even a little rough around the edges? Lucius seemed to say she was stubborn like you. So, were you both friends? Coworkers? Family?

Either option is heartbreaking, really. To lose someone close to you and not even remember it…

The Overseer is so cruel. You wonder if he cares about anyone but himself and Lucius, or whether he ever did before. Some of the other doctors have shared information about their experiences with him, but you still don’t get the impression he’s even human, or capable of pretending to be. You can’t imagine what reason the man has for torturing people here. Is progress really it? Are these doctors really just fascinated by moving forward and learning about how their bullshit experiments affect others, regardless of who they hurt?

Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration. Why care anyway? You just want to go somewhere you can call home. You must be missing so much: A comfortable bed, a nice group of friends, a humble little house. Maybe you once had those.

No, this is torturous. Thinking about all that could have been left behind is just something that lends one to misery. You try to stop, but even when the thoughts end, your heart still aches. When your eyes open again, tears are beading at your lashes, and you try to wipe them away before they can grow.

The feeling doesn’t stop, though. And what’s worse, Yosuke notices you’re moving even when you try to do so as quietly as possible, and he looks down at you with concern.

“Ten?”

No matter how you breathe or bite your tongue, the sadness wells further in you, until you can’t stop the tears from accumulating faster than before.

Why, why, why?!

Being caught like this and having Yosuke’s eyes on you while you fight the feeling only makes it worse. Not only do you feel miserable now, but embarrassed too. The tears simply pool even more along your lashes until there’s nowhere else for them to go, and you begin to cry.

Yosuke stops walking and slowly puts you down on the ground, against one of the walls. You avoid looking his way, but keep wiping and wiping fruitlessly at your face.

You pay no mind to Yosuke kneeling before you, even when he tries to ask what’s wrong. All you focus on is trying to stop your tears.

Why? You were fine just a moment ago. Why are you suddenly so sensitive?

Again, Yosuke tries to ask you what’s wrong, but you say nothing. Even if you wanted to tell him about all the shit you’ve been dreaming and dealing with just to get it off your chest, you couldn’t right now with all the cameras on you. You won’t give The Overseer more data.

Yosuke tries his best to comfort you, but for the moment, all he can do is reach forward and hold you. In your outburst, you don’t refute the attention and just cling to his shirt as he envelops you in warmth.

The embrace doesn’t last as long as you expect, however.

“My, my!” You soon hear a chipper voice from afar. Looking over and peeping past Yosuke’s arm reveals just how close to the crossroads you were, but it seems Mom hadn’t been in her office as she appears to have come from the door across from the gate. In her hands are a few full folders clamped shut with black clips, encasing the piles of papers within. She’s accompanied by Monica, who’s ferrying a heavy grey binder in one arm, cradling it like a busy mother would a small child. Judging by the fact that both women were away, you figure they stepped out just briefly for a quick errand since one of them should have been around to let people in the gate.

Both women approach you, with Mom leading as her black heels clack against the floor. She smiles for you, then hands her folders off to Monica, who takes them in her free arm. Like Yosuke, Mom gets down by you, squatting carefully to hide what’s up her skirt, though you already know well what is.

“Our poor girl seems distraught today,” she notes as Yosuke pulls away from you. Her butting in hardly pleases the man, but he seems much more concerned about you than his frustration with his coworker. “What’s the matter, princess?”

You shake your head and croak out, “Please leave me alone.”

Mom’s green eyes shift to her left, her pinkish smile still present. “Well, doctor? What’s wrong with your pretty little girl?”

“She only just started to cry,” is Yosuke’s blunt response. “I didn’t have time to ask her why before you showed up, though I expect she’s just probably overwhelmed by a lot of things.”

A vague statement, but certainly correct.

Mom’s elbows rest upon her knees, arms enclosed around her, so that she can lean in close to you.

“Oh, sweetie,” she coos. “There’s no need to cry anymore. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you right now.”

The hovering attention from them both is equally as overwhelming as the emotions that suddenly washed over you from something so simple. You can’t understand why when you’ve had those kinds of thoughts before without a problem. But, while the attention is unwanted, the shift in focus you’ve had to endure for it is distracting enough to help your tears slow.

Mom reaches a manicured hand out and cups your chin. “Poor thing. I haven’t seen her like this in a while. Perhaps she needs a little treat to get her mind off of whatever’s ailing her.”

“And you propose what, exactly?” Yosuke huffs a bit as he catches her meaning. “You do love to peck at her.”

Mom does not break from her pleasant little façade. “Pardon me for being so willing to help my little girl smile and blush instead of cry and writhe. And honestly, why condemn me for using that to help her when you do the same?”

You stay quiet as the two talk so casually about the subject as if you weren’t right there.

“Besides, it’s not like you can say no, right?” Mom persists with a grin. She drops your chin then. When Yosuke says nothing and simply shoots her a stern look, she keeps talking. “In any case, it seems she’s starting to calm down a little. Perhaps we’d better give her some space and let her breathe.”

“You’ve never been one to give that kind of advice, nor take it,” your doctor finally speaks. Mom frowns.

“Now Yosuke, even I can be sympathetic.” She rises from the floor and offers her hand to you. “Come here, sweet girl. Come to mommy.”

Your cheeks redden in frustration at the babying tone, but you do take her hand and let her help you up. She beams and gives you a smooch on the cheek once you’re up.

“Good girl, there you go!”

She looks over at Yosuke’s face as he stands as well, relishing in his quiet annoyance as he watches her take over the situation.

“Don’t you have work to do?” He questions her, arms folding.

She nods. Her manicured hands stay perched on your shoulders. “Well yes, I do, cutie doctor. Monica and I were getting a few files for the deceased that you-know-who no longer needs. Shameful losses, but so it goes. Their papers need to be put away by someone. Anyway, we were only gone a moment.”

“Yes, and maybe we should get back to it,” her partner finally chimes in after having watched the spectacle before her. “We need to sort through them first, you know.”

Mom gives an airy sigh. “Of course. That man does love running me ragged sometimes. You know, even for just one day of juggling two Numbers, I’ve been busy. Those boys are quite self-maintaining, but I can’t just sit and let them go without Mommy’s attention, now can I?”

One day? So Eight had already been officially switched over before he showed up yesterday. Maybe even the night you saw Lilah.

Mom gives a posh little laugh. “I admit, I haven’t directly looked over more than one person in a while. I’m a little out of practice, I’m afraid. I had to deal with Eight’s affairs, and then my poor One needed his shot and I’d almost forgotten it was scheduled! It’s so much to juggle, but I suppose it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

“There’s something I suppose we can agree on,” responds Yosuke. “I do love my dear Ten, of course. But before I had her, there were other things that kept me busy. The work did well to distract me from my woes.”

Woes? Like what? You’re left embittered at the mention. None of the suffering he could possibly have endured in his life would elicit sympathy from you. You feel worse for Mom than him.

“I think we’ve all been driven a little crazy sitting idly by,” Monica adds with a frown. “When we end up spending too long with our thoughts.”

When Yosuke’s eyes dart in her direction, she looks away.

“Mm, true enough,” he admits after a moment’s contemplation. “I assume you’ve been keeping yourself busy, then?”

The brown-haired doctor gives a slight roll of her eyes as she searches for an answer. “Well, yes. So far as I have my orders. I’ve just been taking care of things around the office at best.”

“She’s been such a wonderful help,” Mom says with a dear smile. “A real peach, I admit. I do enjoy talking to her. I haven't had a friend like her in a long time.”

Though Monica blushes at her coworker’s words, Yosuke raises a brow in disbelief. “Friend?”

“Why yes, Yosuke,” says Mom as if it were so clear. “You wouldn’t understand that kind of camaraderie. You’re always such a hermit. But let’s not get distracted, now.”

She rubs delicately at your shoulders.

“The responsibility of taking care of a pretty little girl like yours can’t fall only upon a man. This poor girl needs a mother.”

Your drying eyes look down at the floor as she speaks this way. Something about her words sits ill with you.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t try to take care of all these darling boys and girls. So do let me see her, Yosuke. I won’t hurt her like I did before. I’ll be good to your princess and behave, just for you.”

Your doctor sighs. “Yes, I suppose I can’t reject your proposal right now. However, I’d like to offer a compromise. I still don’t much like the idea of you being alone with her.”

“Oh?” Mom smirks. “Well I-“

“Not with them, either.” Yosuke slightly raises his hand. “Monica, however…”

Though you expect Mom to be taken aback, her smile only grows.

“Interesting!” She breathes as if enamored by the idea. “For what reason, if I might ask?”

“I trust her enough to keep an eye on Ten, and certainly to talk sense into you if you do get a little bit excessive with your lust.”

“Fine enough, I suppose,” Mom shrugs. “Well, how about it, Monica?”

Her head turns a bit to look at her partner, who simply stands there blushing and flustered.

“Well, I…I can’t see the harm in it.”

You figure she’s not the least bit genuine in her bashful response, and that this time, she’s definitely just being cheeky. She’s reacted quite eagerly to Mom before.

While you don’t like the idea of being around Mom again, you’re at least willing to accept a visit without men. Though, upon turning your head to look at Monica, you wonder if it’s possible for the two of you to get time alone together. And judging by how her brown eyes catch your own, she’s garnered that desire from you.

Only for you does she give a genuine smile. Even though Yosuke notices it, you allow yourself to feel slightly comforted by the woman’s gesture.

“You’ll of course be gentle with my Number, won’t you? Her injuries are still not healed.” Yosuke’s displeased voice grabs your attention again. It’s difficult to hear him and Mom negotiating terms of sex you don’t consent to, but speaking up would do little to prevent it. Perhaps the sentiment is miserable, but you’ve learned how pointless it is to beg the doctors to stop hurting you. Maybe at times you still can’t help but let fear control your words, but you know well how bleak it is here.

“Have you no faith in me?” Mom laughs at him. “Yosuke, come on. I’ll take good care of her. But I have to say—you’re far too adamant about not letting me play with your pretty girl alone. You know that when it comes to you, I could have what I wanted if I demanded it enough. The only reason you’re getting your request fulfilled is because I’m willing to hear you out.”

She leans in a bit, her weight pressing along your back as she gets closer to Yosuke.

“I adore you, cutie doctor. I’ll respect your wishes because I want you to like me again. But don’t take my kindness for granted, okay?”

“Very well,” your doctor agrees to that much. “Thank you.”

Mom brings a hand to her cheek and sighs happily. “Oh, I’ve missed those words from you. In any case, the visit won’t be as long as I’d like anyway. I’m much too busy right now to take my time. I’ll at least let you relish in that.”

“Well wait a minute,” Monica speaks up with a frown. “We should at least try to give her more time if the point is to keep her away from bad thoughts, right? I could stay if you have to leave early.”

Yosuke glances at Monica without an expression, but does not seem to protest the idea verbally.

“Yes, I suppose,” Mom hums. “I’d be so sad missing out on all the fun, though. But dear Monica, if you want more time to play with her, you need only say so.”

Monica laughs this off. “Sorry, I’m a little greedy sometimes.”

You stay carefully watching your doctor’s focus on Monica, but he continues not to answer. All he does is observe.

He’s not an idiot—he probably knows the game you two are trying to play right now. Your only hope is that it won’t backfire. Yosuke sure as hell won’t bring this to The Overseer’s attention if it would mean you getting hurt, but that doesn’t mean he won’t intervene himself if he needs to.

“Well, Yosuke, it sounds like a date,” Mom smirks. “Perhaps tonight?”

“If you so like,” he mutters, his eyes trailing back to Mom. “We should wrap this up.”

He then steps closer to you and lifts your chin. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble back. “I don’t know why that happened, but I’ll be fine.”

“Talk to me later, if you need.” You’re left with a kiss as Yosuke leaves you in the hands of both women. But thankfully, neither sticks around to tease you, and opts to let the conversation end there. Mom stays behind while Monica opens the gate. You turn to face her, but she doesn’t really bother you much despite having you in her clutches. Her green eyes observe you with fascination as her hands pluck at stray strands of hair that have dried. Gently, she moves your hair back in place, adjusting it and smoothing it over while you stand there quietly.

“Are you excited, little girl?” She questions finally. “It’s been a while since we had some playtime together.”

You simply stay quiet as she toys with your hair further.

“Poor thing. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into you, or what you must be feeling. But don’t worry—we’ll make you happy. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to think.”

The gate drags open, and Mom finally lets you go. She simply watches as you enter the hall, and as the gate promptly shuts behind you.

“Mommy’s just going to be right here taking care of her work,” she calls. “If you need me, I’ll come for you. Alright?”

You shudder a bit at her incessant babyish talk and proceed to walk away. You’ll go anywhere—anywhere at all to shake away the unpleasantness of the interaction. You didn’t want anyone, no less a doctor, to see you cry like that. Doubtless that Yosuke will bother you about it later.

You hope that at least talking with Monica will help alleviate your stress a bit. You’ve been eager to talk to her for a while, even if this time it might be a short conversation. And, of course, it depends on if Mom really will leave you two alone. She’s always been the jealous type, so you’re not sure how willing she’ll be to share you even when she seems to have agreed to.

Then again, she called Monica a friend. Is that what she really meant? Even Yosuke acted skeptical. Granted, a woman like Mom could really use someone to talk to. She’s reportedly been cooped up in this facility for god knows how long without a single female friend, given her rivalry with Lilah over her contrasting disposition and horrible temperament.

Your mind goes back to the sight of Mom crying, though, and you wonder whether she isn’t so incapable of being kind to others. She’s insane for sure. She’s not against pushing others into what she wants even if it means hurting them. But that face…

You hope she wasn’t entirely lying when she said she was capable of sympathy. You’re just so used to how she is now and all the horrible things she’s done that it’s difficult to see her as anything positive. Was she once a better person, though? Or has she always been so fucked up?

Either way, it’s not something you can help right now, so you just brush it aside and head to the rec room before Mom has a chance to peck at you further.

You half expect to see it bustling with all the other Numbers, but it’s fairly quiet today. Nobody by the TV, nobody at the game tables, nobody but an unconscious Cyrus along the rightmost couch, with Lav and Violet sitting on the floor by him and talking to one another.

You’re taken aback seeing Cyrus like this again, eyes closed and body still. Last time you had, it wasn’t a pretty situation given Violet’s track record back then. But seeing her now, she smiles amply at you when her dark eyes catch yours. It’s not a bright smile, but certainly not a dim one. It makes your heart happy that she’s glad to see you, rather than disdainful like before.

Without hesitation, you sit by both girls on the floor, and Lav flashes you a smile of her own. Like an eager schoolgirl, she adjusts her braid and smooths it out when you show up. The gesture is subtle, but you find it sweet.

“Didn’t think anyone else was gonna show,” she comments. “It’s been quiet so far. Maybe it’s early.”

You shrug a bit. “I was expecting everyone to be here today. I guess I got used to these past few days where most everyone was around.”

“There are days where nobody shows up at all aside from maybe one or two of us,” Violet adds with a frown. “Sometimes it’s okay when you just want a little space, but then other times you feel kind of lonely.”

“Then you just have to tell yourself someone will probably come another day,” says Lav assuredly. “Anyway, Vi got here before me, and apparently Cyrus was just like this. I guess Ma didn’t tell him ahead of time he’d be up.”

You nod. “My doctor only tells me right before.”

“Sometimes they don’t tell us at all.” Violet pouts at the thought. “Either because they forget, or because they don't care to remind us. It’s usually an afterthought for Micah.”

Lav scoffs a bit. “Same with Sven, really. He used to tell me back when I was new to the experience, but when I started knowing what to expect, that changed. Still, it’s bizarre being put out like that. Even when you’re used to it.”

You look her way, brows raising. “Right, you were asleep the first day I came. It feels like so long ago…”

“It was by now.” You catch sight of Violet looking over at Cyrus’ face. You suppose even though she’s moved on from him, old habits die hard. You’re glad, though, that she’s willing to care for him even despite the rockiness they went through. “I think we were all so different when you came. And then things just changed.”

“I’ve been through a lot in what feels like a short time,” you admit with a tired sigh. “But I don’t really know how much time has actually passed.”

Lav gives you a disheartened look. “Would you really want to know?”

You pause and look down, but wind up telling her no. When you again wind up looking over at Cyrus, you wonder whether he’ll have an issue with his memory. Last time he had been given a shot he seemed pretty woozy and confused, but did remember what happened between you two. You quietly hope he’ll remember what happened yesterday in the music room. If there’s anything he should forget, though, it’s Twelve’s nasty emergence.

What a bitter guy. The thought of having to deal with him is unpleasant, and by no means are you looking forward to seeing him again. Though, you shouldn’t turn him away either. It wouldn’t be right, you guess.

Ugh. Why is the right thing to do always so complicated, anyway?

Sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to just put your foot down and be mean to people. Maybe you don’t have it in you to do that, but having power like that and just being able to do things without hesitation is, for now, just an interesting thought. Surely everyone here has had little fantasies of being stronger.

“Hey Ten?”

You look up at Violet when she calls your name, mouth agape. “Yeah?”

“So, now that you’re here, I kind of wanna ask you something about the other day,” she goes on, almost hesitantly. “When we were all leaving to our rooms.”

“O-oh…It’s about Monica, isn’t it?”

Lav leans in slightly. “I mean, yeah. We didn’t think you’d ever talk so casually to any of the others. Maybe not for a long while. Blue we expect it from because she’s pretty uppity with the doctors for her own reasons. But you’ve always hated them.”

You shrug this off awkwardly. “Look, I know. And I do hate them for being here and torturing us like this. But while nobody here is forgivable for what they’ve chosen to be a part of, I’ve come to find that some doctors are less terrible than others. Monica has just been one of them.”

“I told you all before—when I was alone and suffering, she was one of the people who showed me kindness. She helped me hold on. Gale too, but they’ve always had a particular way of dealing with us, and with me. Monica’s…Monica’s different.”

Lav scrunches up her brows. “But she still likes it here and partakes in everything. Even you said so. She might not be crude to our bodies, but she still uses them without our consent. She could easily refuse to if she wanted to be so kind.”

“I know.” You try to reassure her. “I’m not denying that. I hate that she’s still a part of it. But I guess it’s easier to talk to a woman who still has a head on her shoulders and is willing to be soft. She listens when I tell her I hurt. She slows down for me when she has to. Nathaniel and Jonathan do the same, but they’re still men who want to use me for their pleasure. They don’t take the time to know who I am or talk to me the way Monica or even Gale has.

“And anyway, the other women here aren’t helpful to me either. Lilah’s cruel, and Mom’s more aggressive and parasitic. Were she like Monica, maybe I could feel less afraid of her. I don’t know.”

Lav and Violet exchange confused glances, but again turn their attention to you.

“Ten, you’re really willing to vouch for her like that?” Violet questions. You hesitate to give a straight yes, however. It might not be wise to be so explicit with eyes on you. Instead, you stay cautious.

“I think I can trust her a little more than a lot of the others,” is what you settle on. “She’s still got time to ruin any impression of her we have, but for now, she isn’t as horrible a person as the rest. Maybe it’s because she’s so new and is still adjusting that she doesn’t come across like the rest. Not entirely.

“And, I mean, Yosuke’s a possessive bastard. Sven, Jude, Milos, and Lilah? They’re evil people who just get off on watching us suffer or showing off the power they have over us. Micah too. The only people I’ve been even a little comfortable with are Gale, Nathaniel, and Jonathan. Of those three, Gale’s the only one who’s taken the time to understand us even a little. Even when they seem to be doing it for their own reasons, sometimes they do come across as genuine. But beyond that, Monica’s the only other one who’s been kind. You can think me delusional if you want, but part of me feels bad for her.”

Violet seems taken aback. “Bad? Why?”

“Did you see how Mom treated her before I left?” You question. “And then she seems to have a hard time fitting in here. Maybe I just understand what that’s like.”

You can’t help but blush then, realizing how much you’re defending the woman and how much you’re comparing her to yourself. If only you could tell everyone all the real reasons you confide in her, but for now, this is all you can really go off of. Maybe it’s not the best, though, because both girls still seem perplexed by your words. But Lav most of all. She shakes her head.

“Sorry, I still don’t trust her. I won’t deny she’s been kind, and I won’t say it’s so terrible having a woman take care of me instead. But I’m stubborn. I won’t argue with you if that’s what brings you comfort, Ten. I don’t think you’re delusional, but I certainly don’t agree with the idea. I don’t even fully agree with Blue when she cozies up to the doctors like a puppy, but I know it’s what helps her. I won’t take that from anyone if it’s what they need.”

“I know,” you solemnly agree. “I won’t make you change your mind either. But I hope that explains why It was so easy for me to talk with her. I’m not her friend or anything. I don’t know if she thinks of me as one. She seems like the kind of woman who just wants to be friendly, anyway.”

“Really friendly,” Violet shudders and folds her arms over her chest, “I kinda feel bad for Pickle having to put up with that, um, you know.”

She glances at Cyrus for a moment. “He can’t hear me, I hope.”

Despite the gloomy discussion, you muster a soft laugh. “Well, I’ve heard things in my dreams before. Maybe he isn’t the same, but you never know.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” Lav adds. “What were you gonna say?”

Vi blushes as you and Lav have both left her mind running. “Well now I’m not saying it!”

However, Lav smirks. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the idea of sucking on boobs?”

“Stooop!” Violet whines, causing Lav to laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. But really, it is kind of awkward when it’s not with someone you like. So’s everything else we have to put up with here.”

You bring a hand to your face, cheeks as red as Violet’s. “Well, it’s not a terrible feeling. If it were with someone I liked, maybe I’d be okay with it.”

Lav’s own face gets a little flushed. “Oh?”

“Oh my god, please change the subject,” Violet’s hands cover her face, fingers sliding beneath her glasses. “I don’t want to talk about anyone’s boobs or my lack of them with anyone.”

“Now, now, you have very nice boobs,” Lav chuckles. “Don’t sell yourself short just because you don’t have the same burden on your chest like Blue. Trust me those things hurt your back like a motherfucker sometimes. Wish they gave us some support, those bastards.”

Violet groans, drops her hands, and starts to lightly beat on Lav’s shoulder. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

You suppose the lull in negative conversation is a good thing. Despite the woes you’ve been enduring lately, it feels good to laugh for a little bit.

Lav eventually does back off, and Violet calms down a little. Though, she wasn’t genuinely mad, just flustered. You find it sweet that Lav at least makes sure she didn’t cross a line afterward.

You three continue to talk for a while in wait of any other presences, but nobody shows up for a while. At some point, the conversation just becomes gossip about the other Numbers, but nothing really incriminating or rude. Mostly just curiosities and talk of behavior you never noticed before. Innocent stuff, really, like how Five does a lot of really dainty things like sneeze quietly or take baby bites of food, how Six is reportedly really good at tying knots, that Pickle is apparently clingy in his sleep and once hugged Two’s leg while he was sitting in the crafts room, and that Three has a tendency to hum made-up songs to herself when she thinks she’s alone. Lav even winds up laughing about Blue, noting how she always forgets where she puts things when she’s doing her art and has to look around for it, or how she falls asleep every time she tries to pick up a book.

“Eight would probably be mad if she started drooling all over the stuff he reads,” Lav laughs. Violet winds up smirking

“As if she’d be caught dead reading anything he likes. She’s more attuned to visual stuff, so she’d be better off reading something with pictures. Maybe a nice pop-up book.”

“Hey, she could make her own if she wanted,” you add with a giggle. “She’s talented.”

This only makes Violet mutter. “Yeah, yeah. I guess so. Though I can do my best too, ya know. It was kind of fun building a doll with Eight, even if we weren’t really that talkative back then.”

“Back then…?” You’re taken aback by her wording. All that happened before you were taken away by Lucius. Time blends together here, but that, without a doubt, feels like it happened a long time ago with how much you’ve been putting up with lately. You miss that day.

Lav smiles. “Well, I’m glad you two have been getting along lately. Both of you really needed someone who understood you. And hey, who better to than a guy like that?”

Violet blushes and rolls her eyes away. “Well, he’s kind of sweet when you get past his whole asshole schtick. You know sometimes he mutters what he reads aloud when he’s reading something he’s really invested in.”

You smile to yourself. Back then you would never have thought to consider him so, well, normal. He’s changed quite a lot, and hearing even something like this about him makes you a little giddy, even if he’d probably tear you to shreds for being so vocal about it the way Violet is.

She then shrugs. “And it’s been nice, but lately he’s been kind of bothered about something and he doesn’t want to talk to me about it. I told him not to keep it in, but he said it was something he should talk to Cyrus about. Since he pulled him aside yesterday, I wonder what it was.”

You frown. You’re sure he took issue with Mom being his doctor. You were probably never supposed to find that out, but what happened yesterday wasn’t really in your control.

Eight’s the kind of guy who won’t admit he cares about people, but you’re sure he’s quite fond of Cyrus as a friend, especially as one of the same sex. You figure he was trying to break the news to Cyrus before Mom could, or before she had the chance to spring a joint visit on them. You can only hope the two are close enough to stay good friends even when or if Mom makes them do terrible things together the way she did with you and Cyrus. And with her ruling over them both, she can’t really be stopped.

That leads you to remember her words earlier—she mentioned having overseen more than one person before. So how long has she been here? And how long has this operation gone on?

And her words about you needing a mother…that just irks you still. So many people have had their families taken away from them, and Mom just cozies up to them like a surrogate as if it makes the situation any better. Was it ever a good intention, or was it always selfish self-fulfillment? When did the lines even cross? Or were they always that way?

You suddenly notice you’ve been quiet a little longer than is probably considered normal, so you try to keep focused on the conversation, playing dumb about what you know about Eight.

“Who knows? Maybe it was just some personal stuff. He and Cyrus did sort of hit it off a little, so maybe he just trusts him.”

You glance over at the young man’s sleeping face, your lips curving slightly up in a subtle, soft smile as you silently hope his dreams, if any, are more pleasant than yours have been. And maybe you’re being a bit narcissistic, but you can’t help but wonder if he still dreams of you.

“It’s none of our business until he makes it, I guess,” Violet sighs. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“Eight’s a resilient guy,” Lav remarks knowingly. “He’s certainly not helpless. He went to Cyrus for a reason, so that means he’s emotionally stable enough to recognize when he needs to reach out, and to who. I’m sure he’ll be okay. But if it bothers you that you weren’t the one he sought out, don’t worry—sometimes we need the right people for the right situation. Evidently this was something he felt wasn’t your responsibility. I think that shows he cares enough about you not to burden you with anything too bad.”

“You mean I couldn’t help him if I tried,” Violet scoffs a bit, but then shakes her head as if changing her mind. “No, I know that’s not true. I trust him.”

Lav leans forward to place a hand on her friend’s shoulder. She smiles. “Atta girl.”

More time ticks by, but still, nobody arrives. Your small trio decides to at some point get lunch after talking each other’s ears off. While you do stop to check in on Charlie, whose only response after a while of quiet is a short “HELLO” written on a scrap of paper, you all wind up bringing your food back to the couch.

Lunch is not as good as you hope this time around, or else your own sense of taste is just messed up because of the drugs. Nobody really says anything about it, but it’s not as flavorful as usual. Not bad, but not what you remember it being before. Still, it’s edible, and so you do eat a bit of it while listening to both girls go back and forth about some of their favorite books in the library. With how little you’ve had time to read, you can’t help but feel a bit out of place hearing their discussion and having nothing to add to it.

When someone finally does arrive in the rec room, it does little to make anyone’s day any brighter. You suppose that’s to be expected given recent events, but seeing Lilah’s face before anything else as the rec room doors open only makes your body tense.

All conversation halts when she’s heard insulting the boy she’s kicking into the room, hands again bound as they had been yesterday. This time, she seems not to have bothered with a gag, but he isn’t much the talkative type right now as he simply grits his teeth in pain at her aggressive hits, and eyes everyone in the room with a sharp emerald gaze when he’s able.

You wince seeing Lilah shoves him hard enough for him to fall onto the ground with a grunt.

“Go play with the other kids for a while, you little shit,” she spits. “Don’t expect me to be your babysitter for much longer either. I shouldn’t have to waste my time escorting you like this. I wouldn’t even have to if you didn’t keep trying to use your legs out there. Keep it up and I just might break them.”

She then folds her arms and looks down at her Number with contempt. He says nothing, and simply stays still on the floor. His hot breaths leave condensation on its surface.

“No stupid little remarks this time? Cat got your tongue?”

When Twelve doesn’t answer, Lilah scoffs. “Don’t think I believe that you’re actually learning your place just because you’re not fighting back right now. You’re the kind of fucker who knows how to play pretend just to get by. I’m keeping my eye on you, runt.”

When her icy eyes suddenly shoot up at the three of you by Cyrus, your heart skips a beat. Both girls are on edge, you can tell—Lav’s about as tense as you, but watching the woman intently. Violet, meanwhile, simply looks on with unease.

“Oh, you’re here,” Lilah spits as she sees your still-recovering battered body. “What are you staring at me like that for? Want me to mark up the places I missed or something?”

Your lips tremble a bit, but you just shake your head. Lilah simply brushes you off and turns her dagger-like gaze toward the other two girls.

“Hey, glasses,” she calls. “Come here.”

Violet’s hands clutch at each other nervously, but she abides Lilah’s order and steps past Twelve’s body toward the titular woman. Immediately, Lilah grabs the girl’s chin and violently tilts her head around, as if examining her. Lav looks on with anger, but does nothing.

“He likes shortstacks like you, huh?” Lilah muses unhappily. “Skinny, frail-looking.”

Her black-nailed fingers slide from Violet’s chin to her neck, until she reaches the fabric of her purple gown. Promptly, she plucks at it with her thumb and forefinger, letting it snap back down to Violet’s body as she lets it go.

“Guess you were the best he could do. I don’t like hearing him bitch about you, so don’t go giving him trouble.”

After her brief examination of the girl, she shoves her back a bit, enough to make Violet stumble slightly. She then takes one last look at her own Number before scoffing again at his lack of movement. She says nothing more before completely leaving you all alone, and only when she’s gone do you breathe even the slightest bit of air in relief. However, you know that she is not the only one to bring you worry.

“What the fuck was that about?” Violet shivers a bit as she quickly steps back by you and Lav. The both of you wind up standing up with her, rather than staying on the floor with Twelve there. “God, her hands were cold.”

You bite your lip. It’s not against The Overseer’s policy to really explain it since it has nothing to do with what he’s banned you from speaking of. So, you sheepishly answer.

“You know how the other day she visited me? Micah showed up at some point,” you explain. “That’s all I should probably say, though.”

“More stupid doctor drama or something?” Lav questions unhappily. “Like it even matters. I can’t stand her. I’m just glad she didn’t hurt you, Vi.”

This, however, does not assuage Violet. “If she’s talking with Micah more, I might end up seeing her a lot more by proxy. I sometimes see her in the hall with Milos as it is, which is frustrating. And anytime her and Micah have met up, he seemed easy for her to talk with.”

All three of you suddenly turn your attention to Twelve when he stirs and tries to get off the floor without the use of his hands. He groans a bit, but doesn’t seem to be much bothered by the pain otherwise. Now that you can see him more clearly with no other interruptions to distract you, it becomes clear that he has a few bruises on his arms, and one on by his left eye. You’re sure he has even more under his clothes.

“What happened to you?” Lav questions rather forwardly. When Twelve finally manages to get himself up after staggering a bit, he looks at her with scorn.

“Shut up,” he spits. “You obviously know that cunt, so I don’t have to explain what she did to me. But I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“You know, she might be a lot less rough on you if you just try not to piss her off,” is Lav’s unmoved response as her hands meet her hips. “You’re not gonna get anywhere with her no matter what you do, but you’re certainly not gonna make things better by trying to run off or insult her.”

Twelve takes a mocking tone. “Aww, you care about me? I can handle myself just fine, blondie.”

“I guess it’s not surprising she went in for the attack so immediately after he came,” Violet butts in before Lav can start fighting about his attitude again, hoping to prevent the needless lashing. “She’s been itching for a new punching bag. Though I wonder what’s going to happen to Eight now that she has one.”

“Eight…that grey fuck from yesterday, right?” Twelve questions. “He’s a fucking pansy ass loser. Maybe he took a hit pretty good, but he bled way too easy.”

“A what?!” Lav seems surprised. “You had no fucking right to hurt anyone yesterday. Stop acting like we’re against you and stop fucking insulting us for no reason! You saw how Lilah spoke to us just now. Do you believe us yet, that we won’t hurt you?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure out what’s in it for you all to be so calm about all this,” is Twelve’s bitter answer. “You’re acting like it’s just another stupid day for you. That’s pretty fucking nutty if you ask me. Maybe you aren’t gonna hurt me without a good reason, but you’re obviously sick in the head.”

Lav looks on at him with her mouth agape, somehow at a loss for words. When she doesn’t respond right away, Twelve smirks.

“Anyway, what’s with ghost boy over there? Didn’t wanna deal with my shit today?”

“He’s asleep,” Lav shoots back when she gathers her wits again. “Are you blind and an annoying piece of shit?”

“I guess a frail fuck like him would need his naptime. Guy looks like he’d break apart if you sneezed on him.”

“He’s just unconscious because of them,” you try to explain. “They keep giving us these shots now and then and we just wind up asleep for a while. It’ll happen to you too, you know.”

Twelve looks you up and down, emerald eyes lingering on the bruises all along your limbs. However, his rough attitude remains intact. “Not if I don’t let it.”

The moment he steps closer toward you three and Cyrus, Violet spreads her hands out and grows defensive. “Hey, back off!”

Twelve stands by and tilts his head. “Why the fuck are you defending him? I haven’t done anything. He your boyfriend or something?”

“That’s…” Violet’s guard shatters so suddenly. “I’m…”

Her arms drop, face wrought with a mixture of frustration and hurt. Perhaps just the mention of it brought back a lot of bad memories about what happened, but the girl simply stands there as if she’s been stricken a blow. This simply leaves Twelve raising a condescending brow.

“Oh, you’re all sensitive about it, huh? Sorry, didn’t know you were getting dick from the local ghost boy.”

You turn to Violet in worry, but she says nothing. Whatever’s running through her head, it’s leaving her flustered and angry all at once. Her cheeks are starting to flush and burn red, color bleeding even through the dark of her skin. Her fists ball up as she tries to fight back whatever awful feeling is welling in her, but all she does is stamp her foot.

“You don’t know anything, asshole! Fuck you!”

Rather than attack him or start drilling into him the way she’s done with you before, Violet simply storms off to the bathroom to try to keep herself from crying. Though she’s overcome all the issues with Cyrus and her sparring with you, the subject is still sensitive for her, it seems. You wouldn’t overstep your boundaries by joking about such a thing, but Twelve sees no issue pecking about what he has no understanding of. You scowl at him, while Lav fruitlessly calls out to Violet and reaches out a hand.

When the bathroom door shuts, it bangs hard enough against the edge of the wall that it partly pushes back, and you can see Violet’s purple gown and dark hair through a crack between both ends.

Once she’s gone, Lav turns her sympathetic outreach into pure anger, and her attention snaps to Twelve again. With rapid steps, she moves up to him and grabs Twelve by the collar portion of his shirt.

“Listen, chickenshit! You don’t know what the fuck we’ve all had to put up with. We’ve been here for a long time and we’re all fucked up by everything that’s been going on. You don’t get to come in here and act like you know what’s what!”

Twelve rolls his eyes. He makes no attempts to hurt Lav, but he does continue to be such a pain to her.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, if you people wanna fuck each other that’s not my problem, but obviously you’re all just a bunch of messed up, sensitive idiots who don’t know how to fight for yourselves. Like okay, I admit, you seem to be the only one around here with any balls, but you’re wasting your time protecting people who don’t matter. You should be trying to get out of here if you’re strong enough to.”

Lav’s grip on his shirt tightens, and she leers. “Don’t turn the knife on me, asshole. You don’t know what’s at stake here. All you’ve done is antagonize us for no reason. You have an opportunity to be loved, and you’re wasting it.”

“Love is stupid,” Twelve scoffs. “I don’t need attachments. Whatever the hell this place is, it’s not worth it to get attached. If I can’t remember anything, what’s it even matter, anyway?!”

Lav’s free hand balls up, and you fear she might try to hit him again. However, she takes a deep breath and stops herself, soon letting Twelve’s tan shirt go and allowing him to step back a bit in caution. He scorns her with only a look of his emerald eyes, but readies his body to receive a hit that doesn’t come.

You merely stand there uncertain, hands squeezed together, fingers woven between each other, and nails digging into your skin.

“Nine…?” You call her, but she doesn’t answer. For a moment, she brings her hand up to her face and presses at the bridge of her nose. Twelve hardly makes her frustration any better, though.

“I told you fucks,” he spits when he realizes Lav has no intentions to hit him again. “If you really wanna trust me, get me the fuck out of here. We don’t gotta be friends, but I might actually appreciate it if you were on my level. Now get the fuck off me!”

Lav’s hand drops. “You’re not on any goddamn level, Twelve. If it were up to me right now, you’d be in the fucking ground.”

Her head turns over, amber eyes looking toward Cyrus, then you. Her expression softens a bit, but she still seems frightfully tense. Despite this silent fight with herself, she sighs.

“But that’s not how we do things here,” she finally says, voice calming. She again turns to Twelve. “You’re a dick, and I really don’t like you. But I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences with people here. I don’t expect we’ll be getting along anytime soon, but leaving you hanging is only going to make you as bad as your doctor.”

Twelve says nothing, keeping his head up and eyes focused on the girl. She moves his way, but does not stay in front of him for long beyond pausing to look him square in the eyes with a passing side glance. Once their small standoff is over, she goes behind Twelve and pops open his cuff. You fear he might try to hurt Lav immediately, but strangely, he does nothing.

He does not turn to her, does not make a comment, does not do anything more than separate his wrists and bring his hands back in front of him. The cuff slips into his hand in the process, and he holds the thing open, examining it up and down. Lav watches him with a stern eye from behind, but neither she nor Twelve act upon each other after this.

Twelve soon grips each side of the open cuff, brings his knee up, and slams the middle section of the cuff against his leg hard enough to completely break it in half. With the thing now no longer restricting him and no longer of use, he tosses it on the floor, and rubs at his wrist with his thumb.

“Doesn’t mean we’re even, blondie,” he mutters. “But I’ll call it a truce between us for today.”

He turns to Lav, but her expression does not change. “You better go check on your babyish little sister back there.”

“Watch it,” Lav spits. “Don’t keep playing games with me. Know that if you act up again, I won’t hesitate to hurt you. This was a kindness I wanted to show, so don’t take it for granted. And don’t fuck with my friends.”

She looks over at you, then, face softening once more. “Ten?”

“I should stay with Cyrus,” you suppose.

Lav frowns at the idea, but when you assure her you’ll be okay, she then looks back at Twelve. “You’d better-“

“She’s covered in bruises and she looks like a twig,” Twelve interrupts, emerald eyes setting on you next. “She’s probably not even worth my time.”

“She better not be. Don’t fuck this up.” Lav shoots at him. “Ten, if he tries to hurt you or Cyrus, call for me. I’ll come protect you.”

You blush, but nod. When Twelve raises his hands up to assure he won’t touch anyone else as per their temporary truce, Lav decides to go see Violet in the bathroom. You don’t feel quite so unsafe since she’s just in the other room and can still hear you, but you’re still on edge about all this.

When you’re alone with Twelve, he looks at you with a cocked brow.

“So what the fuck’s with all the numbers you have?”

“That’s the system they gave us,” you mutter cautiously. You try not to look Twelve in the eye too much, afraid of riling him up somehow. “They took our names away and gave us numbers instead. But some of us have nicknames based on our colors. The twins are just Two and Three. Four, the other blonde girl, we call Blue. Five and Six use their numbers, Violet is Seven, Eight and Nine prefer to use their numbers. And Eleven, he chose the name Pickle for some reason.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Twelve is blunt. “And you? And that fucker behind you?”

“I’m Ten,” you answer with annoyance at his comment. “He’s One, but we call him Cyrus.”

“That right? Why’s that asshole get a special little name, mm?” Twelve folds his arms. His stance is firm, and you feel as if in a moment’s notice, he could hurt you if he wanted. You hate being on edge in a place you shouldn’t. It feels wrong.

“It’s a long story. Something about his doctor accidentally dropping his file, but his name was all he got from it before she picked it up. He’s not a bad guy, just-“

Twelve scoffs. “He’s a pussy. At least that Eight guy could take a hit or two, especially if that goth chick was his doctor before me.”

You scowl. “Well that big guy you mentioned before—Milos— he’s hurt Cyrus too. Most all of the doctors have. He can take a lot more than you’re giving him credit for. He just doesn’t want to hurt people.”

“Yeah, a pussy.”

“Shut up!” You spit back in anger, but then try to calm yourself. “Please, I’ve been through a lot here. I’m so tired of drama and all this madness. This facility is a terrible place and we’re all suffering in it. Nine wasn’t kidding when she said you have no idea what the hell we’ve all been through.”

Twelve laughs, strangely. “Jesus, do you think I care? If you’re really suffering that much, why the fuck haven’t you tried to leave?”

“Because if we do, they’ll kill us,” you shoot back. “There’s eleven regular doctors for this group, and a lot of them are strong enough to hurt us. And there’s much worse to fear than just your doctor. You have no idea what the hell this place is like. You don’t know what they’re capable of. I’ve seen people die. And Cyrus? He’s been here the longest, and he’s seen much more death than me.”

Despite your pleas, Twelve does not listen. “You’re all still here singing kumbaya like it’s a fun little daycare even knowing how horrible it is here. If you really wanted out of this place, you’d fight for it, even if that means you’d die. Freedom isn’t taken without a fight. Change doesn’t happen unless you make it. And getting all attached to each other here doesn’t make all that any better. You’re all just a bunch of losers waiting to die. Or maybe you’re addicted to all the grody sex you get here.”

He laughs again. “Is that it, princess? You like getting fucked and beaten to shit?”

Your fists ball up. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? You’re wearing pink, and you look like you’ve never worked a day in your life. Something tells me you don’t know how to do anything. Like some textbook bimbo.”

“Stop! I get enough of being dragged around and left feeling useless from my doctor!” you lash out. “I don’t need it from you! I don’t choose what happens to me here. I’m fighting over my lack of memory like you, and it’s been miserable trying to scratch an itch I can’t no matter how hard I try. And I know I’m not the strongest, but I’ve been put through hell here and you have no idea what it’s been like for me! I’ve been beaten, raped, threatened, drugged to shit—don’t act like I’m not struggling!”

Twelve frowns. “You expect me to feel sorry for you? I don’t even know you. And frankly, I don’t want to know you or anyone else in this fucking place. I don’t need to.”

He turns his body and starts to move, but you immediately question him why.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” is all he says. Your eyes widen as Twelve presses on.

“What? W-wait!”

You don’t struggle to put two and two together—he wants to get out of here, and he seems hellbent on actually trying to, regardless of the consequences. He keeps trying to run away in the hall according to Lilah, but that’s an easily subduable issue with the cuffs and Lilah’s attentiveness. However, if he gets more destructive or rowdy, you aren’t sure what might happen.

Despite your calling to him, Twelve presses on and heads out of the rec room. In the back of your mind, you know you should be trying to call Lav for help. You know.

But you don’t. Your focus is only on trying to stop Twelve, and so you follow him like a puppy, begging him not to do whatever it is he’s trying to.

“Go back in that room, and stop bothering me,” Twelve spits when he notices you following behind him. He walks all the way to the gate, standing by the side of it that opens up. With both hands, he grips the bars and shakes at it a little, as if to gauge its weight.

“Twelve, stop!” You plead. “You’re going to get in trouble!”

“I told you this shit’s worth dying for. I don’t care if I live or die here.”

“That’s insane. You need to settle down!”

Twelve lets the bars go and whips himself around to look at you scornfully.

“Hey, princess, I don’t fucking remember shit. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. Nothing matters right now. But if there’s a chance I can get out, then why wouldn’t I try? Why do you think I keep trying to get away from that bitch whenever I can?”

“You-“

“Go play with your girlfriends if you’re so fucking afraid. Or are you trying to stop me because you really are working with those fucks? Eh?”

His crude demeanor, his forceful voice, it all intimidates you. Even now, you struggle to look him in the eye. “I’m not trying to stop you just because I want you to stay here and suffer. Please don’t be so reckless! You don’t under-“

“I understand enough,” Twelve interrupts you. “This is a shithole. You said people have died here? Fine, I’m willing to believe that given the shit I’ve seen from these people already. But I’m not sticking around to wait for my death like a miserable fucking animal. A cage might be fine and dandy for you, but it ain’t for me.”

He turns around again and proceeds to grip one of the bars with both hands, and try to tug it open with as much force as he can. He tugs and tugs, grunting and growling as he exerts all his force, but the gate doesn’t budge.

Is he stupid? Or is he just blinded by his anger? There’s no rationality to this—that gate isn’t going to move, and hoping it will is just so pointless. You can’t fathom why the hell he suddenly thinks this is a good idea. Maybe it’s all he can think of.

You want to say you get that—you’ve had your moments of panic and have done a lot of stupid things. You’ve tried to run away from Lucius before and he found it laughable that you even tried when you were so disadvantaged.

Still, you don’t give up on trying to convince Twelve of how wrong he is.

“It’s not going to move,” you try to tell him after watching him aggressively yank and pull at the gate for a good while. “Please just listen to me!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Twelve grunts between his teeth. He brings his foot against the wall to add more force to his pulling, but the gate still doesn’t move. “Either fuck off or help me!”

You refuse. “I’m not going to help you. I can’t.”

Twelve continues to yank at the gate as hard as he can, his face getting red and his knuckles pure white. The way he’s groaning, he sounds like it hurts. With all the beating he must have taken from Lilah, evidently he must be in pain exerting his body even further.

“Twelve, please, you’re going to hurt yourself!” You again beg him to stop, this time tugging at his arm. In anger, the boy lets the gate go. He staggers a bit, but once he’s stable, he immediately turns and shoves you hard enough to send you stumbling back toward the other side of the infirmary door.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you goddamned bitch!” He spits at you. His frustration at being unable to pry the gate open only bleeds into his attack on you. You have no time to process it, but in his burning anger, Twelve brings a hand to your neck and pins you against the wall. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me!”

Your heart starts to pound wildly, and your hands reach up desperately at Twelve’s arm as you start to panic.

“P-please stop!” You croak. Twelve isn’t choking you, but the feeling of his hand on your neck only sends you into a wild frenzy. “Please!”

“I’m not afraid to hurt a girl if she gets in my space. I don’t like being touched, got it?” Twelve’s face gets close to yours. “And why the fuck do you care if I stay, eh? You trying to sabotage me?”

“I-I’m trying to save you!”

You want to kick him, shove him away, something. But if you do that…

You try to cry out for Nine, but it comes out more like a hushed squeak. Twelve simply grips you more firmly.

“Shoulda called for her before coming out here,” he drills furiously. “If you are some kind of plant here, you’re a really bad one. You’re all kinds of stupid.”

Tears start to spill from your eyes as you fail to reach him, but it seems this takes Twelve aback. Though his brows remain furrowed, and his grip strong, his eyes slightly widen at the sight of your tears. However, he seems to shake this away quickly.

“What the hell are you crying for?!”

Immediately, the tension of the situation is interrupted by the loud sound of the gate dragging open. Both you and Twelve whip your heads toward the thing, only to be met with the sight of Mom, with Monica standing behind her with a frightened expression. Her hand stays over her mouth, but Mom does not hesitate to speak.

“Twelve, drop her. Now.”

She stands there, green eyes shooting daggers at the boy before you.

“You?” Twelve shakes his head. “You’re that weird mommy bitch that goth cunt was talking about with what’s-her-face back there.”

She must have hid away when Lilah showed, as she seems to be doing as of late. Mom merely smirks a bit with her pinkish lips at the boy’s words.

“Ah? I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m everyone’s mother here. You can call me Mom. A variant of it is also suitable.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Twelve laughs. “Fuck you.”

Mom’s smirk fades into a tight-lipped frown. “You’ve got some nerve, little boy.”

She steps into the gate calmly, her heels clacking slowly against the hard floor. Twelve’s eyes widen a bit, but as his adrenaline begins to rush, he shoves you away toward her and tries to move toward the open gate, ready to push past Monica who, in turn, tries to prepare herself to grab him.

You wind up falling by the gate as Twelve’s feet step past you, but before he can make his escape, Mom grips Twelve by the neck as he had with you, and slams his body against the bars of the opened gate on the right side. She, however, does not hesitate to actually choke him.

“Fuck!” he grits his teeth. When he tries to kick Mom, she drags him along the bars, turns slightly right, and throws him onto the floor with all her strength. Before he has a chance to move or even attempt to get up, she steps quickly to him and stomps hard on his stomach. Twelve lets out a winded breath and raspy, choked groan, emerald eyes wide with the pain.

With her heel in his stomach, Twelve struggles to move. His teeth remain clenched, his arms reaching for Mom’s ankle and gripping it tightly.

“Mom, please stop!” You beg her while still on the floor, body on its side. Even Monica behind you seems taken aback by her violence toward the Number and gasps. However, Mom ignores you both.

“Apologize at once!” she commands Twelve with a razor-sharp tone and a violent roar.

“Fuck you!” Twelve growls between his pained breaths. Mom raises her foot and stomps him again, leaving him to groan louder.

Mom glowers. “I should have known the boy that witch was going to get would be such a nuisance.”

As she remains watchful of the writing boy, the rec room doors open. You look on and see Lav and Violet with wide eyes. Apparently they heard the commotion and tried to come by, but they stop moving the moment they see Mom and Twelve.

Mom looks up at them and lets a smile spread across her lips, as if nothing was the matter.

“Oh, I’m sorry my sweet girls!” She croons. “Mommy’s just taking care of a little problem. Don’t you worry. Just stay right there, alright?”

Again, she stomps on Twelve’s stomach. As her attention turns back to him, so too does her bitter expression return.

“You’re a rotten little thing,” she spits, voice low and harsh. “You’re no son of mine.”

Twelve seems to surrender to the pain as his hands slip away from Mom’s ankle. With a long groan of defeat, he leans his head back against the floor, then tries sucking in any breath he can as he tries to recover. When Mom’s head turns your way and she smiles, you look away, toward the gate and the crossroads of hallways. But when you do, something unusual catches your eye. You look up at the very corner of the wall where the hallway full of rooms meets with the office, and though you can just barely see it, it looks like there’s someone standing there.

Monica seems not to notice it since her gaze is so focused on the bodies before her. The corner is just out of her sight, too, despite how close she is to it. She has no idea what’s happening, but your eyes widen when you realize just who’s there.

Leaning casually in waiting with his one arm under his bent elbow, and a gun in his hand pointed up, is Lucius. You have no clue when he came, but you realize he’s been waiting behind the corner, listening in to everything. He must have been right by the cameras, watching all of this play out and immediately coming to deal with it to have gotten here so quickly.

His dark eyes are closed, but he soon opens them and glances at you. The moment his gaze meets yours, his lips curve in a calm, cold smile.

Was I wrong? You wonder frightfully. Yesterday, you’d thought Twelve was too new to discard. It was a shot in the dark, but at the same time, he’s given no reasons yet to prove he’s worth keeping.

Now that it seems things have calmed down and Mom has him subdued, Lucius does not linger much longer. Once you’ve spotted him, he quietly walks away, though keeps his gun in his hand and drops it to his side. While he manages to step quietly enough for nobody past the gate to even realize he was ever there, Monica is close enough to hear him, and her head turns when she finally senses his presence there.

She does not react to him right away, but does seem to let her eyes go wide like yours. In disbelief, she looks back down at you for just a moment, and for that moment, you two share a common, quiet acknowledgement of what almost happened.

“Ten?” Mom calls you, and your head whips her way in a panic. Her smile has not faded. “You’re safe now, my sweet girl. Can you stand?”

Your body feels limp and cold, shivering as you realize how close you came to witnessing another horrible death. At least, you assume that was why he came.

You try not to think about it and stand up, legs feeling wobbly as you do. However, you’re able to stabilize yourself, and Mom seems quite glad you’re not hurt. She finally steps off of Twelve, though he doesn’t try to get up and simply rolls over, holding his stomach in pain.

From what you can tell, his shirt’s been ripped where Mom’s heels punctured the fabric, and she’s also apparently managed to injure him enough for him to bleed a bit. Whatever scrape or puncture she made has left slight remnants of blood that have brushed onto his shirt. Lav and Violet both glance at him worriedly, but do nothing.

Mom comes to you and runs her hand through your hair sweetly.

“My poor baby,” she coos, though you shiver knowing she just attacked someone again. “Mommy’s here. I told you I’d be here for you, didn’t I?”

“Mamita, that was a bit much,” Monica tries to push aside her surprise at seeing Lucius. “Is he going to be alright?”

“I don’t quite care,” Mom frowns. “He’s Lilah’s problem, not mine. Besides, I didn’t quite let my heel dig in too hard. He’s just bleeding a little, that’s all. He’ll be fine until his doctor arrives to get him.”

“Are you sure?”

This amuses Mom. She gives kind of a condescending, subtle breath of laughter. “Now, dearest Monica, don’t underestimate this one. I was present with Micah during the examination, and I know well what’s in his file. He’s a resilient thing. He’ll bounce back. Why, even his injuries from Lilah didn’t stop him from acting out.”

Mom’s hand drops from you, and she touches a finger to your nose instead.

“Call me if he gives you any more trouble, little girl,” she gives a sing-songy tone. “Mommy’s always here for you. Go enjoy the rest of your day, okay? And let’s not bother your poor doctor about this. He’ll be so distraught.”

He’d hurt him. Yosuke’s words haven’t been forgotten.

You look on at Mom with disbelief over everything, but do try to muster a quiet nod. With a last giggle, Mom leaves you with a temporary goodbye.

“I’ll see you tonight, my little baby.”

Without a care, and as if nothing had happened, Mom steps away and leaves you behind the gate. Monica lingers only to look at the remnants of the scene, but eventually does follow Mom back to the office.

When you’re alone again, you look down at Twelve on the floor, holding his stomach. He attempts to move and stand up, but he’s understandably a bit sluggish after all the stomping. Despite how angry you are at him for what he did, you force yourself to go toward him.

“I told you,” you say. “I warned you. And it could have been so much worse.”

He says nothing. When he’s on his knees, you sigh and lend a hand down to help him up.

Twelve, brows furrowed, takes one look at your hand, scowls, and shoves it away. He continues to stay quiet, but stands on his own and shoves past you to the nearest room he can. Before he’s gone, you ask him,

“Are you okay?”

He pauses, but does not turn around.

“Fuck off.”

This is all he bothers to say before he hides away behind the double doors of the theater.

You let out a long exhale and try to come down from all the terror from before. Now that the adrenaline is slowly wearing thin, you feel exhausted again.

Without hesitation, you meet back with Violet and Lav. You expect them to drill you about what just happened given how stunned they seem, but rather than ask what happened, Lav immediately wraps her arms around you and holds you tight.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes wearily. “I was running water to help her flush her eyes, so we didn’t hear you guys walk out. Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” you assure her, returning her embrace. “I should have tried to get you first. I was just afraid because he was trying to escape.”

“He what?!” Violet seems stunned. “Just like that? I mean I know we talked about it just yesterday, and then there was his botched attempts with Lilah, but I didn’t think he’d go for it again so suddenly.”

You and Lav separate again, and you turn your head to look at Violet, nodding. “I guess he thought he had a chance with no doctors around. He got after me for not trying hard enough to get out of here. He said he doesn’t care what happens to him and that he thinks his freedom is worth dying for. I tried to tell him not to be so rash, but he didn’t listen.”

“Did he hurt you?” This seems to be Lav’s more immediate concern, but you shake your head. Slowly, you reach a hand to your neck and rub a few fingers along the skin.

“He scared me. I don’t think he was trying to hurt me that hard because all he did was grip me. I-I think he was trying to drill a point into me. But I got so freaked out…and then Mom showed up.”

The threat of being choked still scares you deeply, but today’s just been especially bad. You weren’t ready for it, and no less from a Number. You feel betrayed by what you thought was a net of safety behind the gate.

Lav scowls and shifts her eyes away. “That little asshole. I hope he learned his lesson at least.”

“I don’t know if he did,” Violet seems wary. “I don’t doubt he might try again sometime. We really have to be careful.”

“Well, he’s in pain right now, so he’ll be out of commission for a bit,” you suppose. “I’m sorry for freaking you guys out.”

“No, if anything I blame myself. If I hadn’t gotten upset, this wouldn’t have happened,” Violet winces at the thought, her expression pained. “Every time I get upset, you get hurt. But all that with Cyrus…I’m over it enough to where it doesn’t hurt to think about usually, but the words he was saying were so awful. I just snapped.”

Lav shakes her head. “You have every right to be mad, but don’t think you’re at fault here. I’m the one who shouldn’t have let him out of that fucking cuff. I know I said I wouldn’t be nice to him, but I figured if we kept treating him like shit, he’d never change. But evidently he wasn’t going to change regardless. I regret it. He could have done so much worse to you, Ten.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “No, maybe it was the right move. He hesitated. I started to cry while he was accusing me of trying to stop him because he still thinks we might be in on all this, and he just…he gave a weird look. I don’t know, it was strange. But I don’t think you did the wrong thing letting him go. I wouldn’t say he trusted you, but he seemed a little bit less rowdy when he had a reason to think you might actually not hurt him.”

Lav pouts. “I’m too angry at him to play nice any further today. I can’t do this pacifist shit like Cyrus can.”

“You don’t have to, you know.” Violet puts a hand on her friend’s arm. “Sometimes being angry and kicking ass is a better option.”

Lav gives a bit of a weak laugh despite all the tension. “Yeah, I guess so. Someone’s got to.”

You look down, not really keen on laughing this off right now while it’s so fresh. “You know, I’ve never seen Mom reject anyone like that. It took me off guard.”

“I guess at least we know she’ll keep him in line if we can’t, but even I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy.” Violet shivers at the thought of her. “Though I guess you’ll be seeing her later given what she said.”

“Sadly. I’m due for a visit with her and Monica later tonight. So for a short while, you guys will be unsupervised and have to deal with yourselves.”

Lav sighs. “So it goes, I guess. Anyway, let’s forget about all that for now. We should get back to the room. Let Twelve deal with his own demons. I doubt he’ll be trying to pry that gate open again anytime soon.”

“I dunno, he’s kind of a stubborn guy,” Violet shrugs as she starts to turn and head back to the rec room. “That or stupid, anyway. He’ll probably try again tomorrow if he’s not the kind of guy who learns his lesson easy.”

You and Lav both follow, and together the three of you sit by Cyrus once more. He remains untouched, and still asleep. You certainly hope all the commotion didn’t affect his dreams, if he’s having any. Regardless, you’re just glad he’s safe. Seeing his chest slowly rise and fall is, if anything, reassuring.

Though the girls try to let things get back to some kind of normal, you remain frustrated and bothered by the ordeal that just occurred. While you know you shouldn’t really say anything, you do struggle to keep it in. Besides, as long as you aren’t letting on that you know what you do, there’s no harm.

The sight of Lucius earlier still bugs you. What was he intending to do? Kill Twelve? Stop him? But why discard him so soon if they went through all that trouble to get him? Furthermore, if he’s already tried to run twice, why not be rid of him already?

You don’t want to think he was trying to protect you, but the thought does cross your mind. Really, why would he? Because you’re “important”? No, that’s too generous. You’re still of little worth to those two men. Only your reaction to Mnemosyne fascinates The Overseer. It’s about the only reason you’re still here.

“Guys?” You try to get their attention, and they look at you promptly. “I um…I saw someone.”

“Huh?” Violet seems surprised and pauses her chatting. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. “When Twelve pushed me to the floor, I was able to see around the corner by the office. Just barely. When I looked away from Mom, there was a man standing there. A man with a gun.”

Lav’s eyes widen. “A gun?”

You shake your head. “Monica saw him too. That’s why she turned her head, and why she looked at me. If Twelve hadn’t attacked me and kept trying to fuck with that gate, I think maybe he would have been killed. If he had done anything more than what he did, then it could have gone much worse.”

Everyone goes quiet for a moment, but you eventually notice that Lav starts to ball her fists. “Well, then it’s good Ma was there. Whoever that man was, I don’t doubt he’s responsible for a lot of things. Terrible things.”

You catch her glancing at you from the side, and are taken a bit aback. While Violet seems more confused, Lav’s reaction is different. Her face is tense, and she seems pissed.

It’s not until you realize she must have pieced together who this man is. You’ve vaguely mentioned him before, after all. A man with a gun came to your dream. A man with a gun ended the life of an innocent girl. A man with a gun has guarded and tormented you all at once.

While Lav’s been pretty intuitive at times, you’re still shocked she was able to piece it together immediately. And you don’t even have to question whether that’s the case much further—something in her eyes tells you she knows.

“Yeah,” is all you say. “Probably.”

Violet doesn’t really notice, but when Lav eventually unballs her fists, one her hands slips over yours. It’s such a small comfort, but her touch helps more than you can put into words.

The whole ordeal with Twelve seemed like it took forever, but it apparently wasn’t as long as you thought. A while after everything calms down, the twins eventually arrive, and they’re filled in on everything that happened over a plain dinner of rice, chicken, and fresh vegetables. Like with lunch, you all bring it by the couch in the rec room. Even if you kind of feel guilty leaving a mess, you still admit it’s an interesting change of pace to have a group meal in a different place than usual.

“Geez, I’m glad you’re okay at least,” remarks Two with concern. “Guy’s a nutcase.”

“And he dared to call us crazy,” Violet scoffs. “He’s no better, then, is he? Maybe he’ll eventually get that after a while of failing to be the tough guy he wants to be.”

Three frowns. “I wish he didn’t have to show up. He’s scary. What if he hurts us too?”

Lav tries to give the girl a calm smile. “It’ll be fine. We’ll all protect each other, alright?”

You prod at your barely-eaten chicken tiredly, not really with much of an appetite. “Like I said earlier, he seems to be capable of hesitating. Yesterday he kept looking at you, Three. And when I cried today, he seemed weirdly hesitant, even for just a small moment.”

“Don’t tell me you think the guy’s secretly a softie,” Two raises a brow. “C’mon. Eight’s more of a mushball than Twelve ever could be.”

Violet looks at him with a deadpan expression. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He might actually try to kill you.”

Two chortles. “Guy can’t even keep up with a basketball game. I think I’m fine.”

While the group has their little banter to try alleviating the tension of what happened, you sit with your legs crossed, staring blankly at the barely touched tray in your lap. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you try to chime in with your thoughts.

“Is he right?”

“Hm?” Lav hums. “What do you mean?”

“Are we weak for not wanting or trying to run?”

“That’s stupid,” denies Violet with a wave of her fork. “Don’t let him put that in your head, Ten. We have reasons not to. He just doesn’t understand that. He hasn’t had any time to actually see what’s at stake here. He says he’s willing to throw his life away but then drags his feet off after being beat to shit by Momma. Even with Lilah he shut right up after his visit. Evidently he’s afraid like the rest of us, and he just doesn’t want to admit it. I know he and I aren’t alike at all, but I was stubborn like him once.”

Two gazes at her unamused. “’Once’.”

To this, Violet sticks her tongue out.

“I hope that’s the case,” adds Three sheepishly, ignoring the silent exchange beside her. “I want to believe he’s not evil because I don’t want to have to deal with more suffering here, where I’m supposed to be safe. And I think for me, I don’t fight back because of a mixture of fear and not wanting to leave anyone behind. I wouldn’t want to leave you guys even if I had a chance to run away.”

The others murmur in agreement, but you sigh.

“That’s why he thinks we’re so weak. Because we’re attached, and we let ourselves get that way.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have wanted us to be?” Two seems surprised, but you refuse the idea.

“Of course not! I’m grateful to have met you guys. I wouldn’t give this up. But maybe…maybe he has a point. Maybe that’s why people like Eight or Cyrus hesitate so much to be open about how they feel or what they think. For Eight, he doesn’t want to associate with people because he feels like it’s some kind of a hindrance. But in the end, he let himself open up because maybe he couldn’t stand being alone like he thought he could. Not entirely, anyway.”

You close your eyes. “And Cyrus…he’s just afraid of being hurt again. I don’t know. It’s all so complicated. If Eight were here, maybe he could go on and on about the complexities in some weird smart person way.”

Two chuckles a bit. “Yeah, but at least he knows how to put that stuff into words. I give him points for that. Anyway, I get how you feel. I wish I could get away too, but I just wouldn’t feel right doing it alone.”

Three glances his way, brows upturned. Though, neither of them bothers to acknowledge each other verbally.

“Is that why you were so adamant on helping him?” Lav questions. “I hated doing the right thing and letting him go, but I knew we’d get nowhere just bickering.”

“I was just worried he’d get hurt,” you mutter.

“Hurt?” Three looks confused. “How so? By Mama?”

Lav frowns. “Ten says she thinks she saw a guy with a gun earlier. He was apparently waiting by, but didn’t do anything.”

Three gasps and puts a hand over her mouth. “What?!”

“If we don’t do anything bad, we have no reason to worry,” Violet tries to calm her down a bit. “If he was there, then he must have been there for Twelve. Last time someone was rowdy, Cyrus said they were taken away, right? So obviously they have ways of dealing with that.”

Two looks at his sister and puts a hand on her back when he catches her shivering. “You okay?”

“It’s just scary,” she whispers. “I-I don’t want to think about it.”

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have said so,” Lav apologizes and tries to reach a hand over to Three’s. “You’re safe, don’t worry. He wasn’t here for anyone else and he wouldn’t be after you because you don’t do anything bad. Okay?”

“Will Twelve be okay?” Three questions in her fear, and Lav, despite being uncertain, gives a nod.

“As long as we keep an eye on him, he won’t get hurt.” She then retracts her hand and groans when she realizes what this means. “God, we have to babysit a little shitlord like him. This is annoying.”

“Will he hurt us?” Two seems uncertain. “I mean, maybe if we don’t provoke him, but last time he just hit Cyrus for no reason. I wasn’t expecting him to go after Ten of all people either. Guy’s got no moral standards.”

“He’s slowly learning we’re not here to fuck with him at least, but he still doesn’t trust us,” Violet answers with a shrug. “Just stay out of his way. And I guess after today, definitely don’t touch him. I didn’t realize he’d be so finicky about that. Enough to attack Ten, too.”

“He was probably angry and freaked out at the same time,” says Two. “Trust me, I’ve been in that situation with some visits. Not a good combo.”

Three finally calms herself down a bit after her brother’s attempt to help her, but once she’s stable, she turns away from him and keeps eating. He seems disheartened, but doesn’t stop her.

You, meanwhile, simply remain sullen as you sit on the floor. Today’s been a bit rough, you suppose. There’s too much going on at once, between this, Yosuke, your body, and all the things about the facility you’ve learned. But, unable to say anything of it, all you do is tell the others one thing.

“I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt again. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Did you watch her die?

Please no. Not now.

How did she die?

Again, you shut your eyes, this time in frustration. You don’t want to do this quiet song and dance in front of the others. You try not to let it bother you, but as the conversation continues without you, all you can think about is Dahlia.

How did she die?

The question repeats in your head, over and over. You start to feel ill and lightheaded, something Lav apparently notices when you hear her call your name. You hadn’t realized you’d dropped your fork on to the tray and clamped a hand over your mouth as if in shock, but now you’re left embarrassed after opening your eyes and seeing everyone else’s on you.

“I’m sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, but the others’ concern hardly lessens. Lav offers to get you to the bathroom since you look so pale, and despite not wanting to make it explicit nothing’s okay, you don’t reject the offer.

You leave the others on the floor and let Lav bring you to the toilet, but nauseous is not what you feel. You just feel unwell. It’s difficult to explain to her.

“My mind won’t stop running,” you whisper to her when she asks what’s wrong. “I’m sorry, I’ve been having a hard time lately. I can’t tell you why.”

Lav holds your hands and helps sit you down on the closed toilet. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe. I honestly don’t blame you for being so fucked up after all that’s happened. Today, um, probably didn’t help.”

Once you’re seated, she kneels by your legs, one hand holding yours, the other resting against your outer thigh. Being alone with her is comforting, but you almost want to laugh being so soft with her in a goddamn bathroom of all places. Still, her attention stays on you, and with her here to distract from all the misery, you do feel mildly better.

“I wish I could explain everything,” you murmur. “But back there, the way you looked at me—you know, don’t you?”

“You know him.” Lav says it so bitterly, her hand squeezing yours. “You told Cyrus and I about a man with a gun in your dream, and that you’d seen him once before. We’ve heard gunshots in the hall before too. And when you came back after your long time away, you mentioned being watched over by multiple people. After what you said today, I know that he must be one of them. And evidently he’s scared you enough to torture you in your sleep. Whoever he is, he deserves nothing but pain for hurting you. And whoever else it was with him, I hope they burn in hell too.”

You squeeze her hand back. “You don’t know the half of it. But thank you, so, so much. It feels good to know that someone else understands. Having to keep it in made me feel like I was crazy.”

“You’re not crazy Ten. This place just really is a hellhole.”

“It won’t get any better, either” you sigh. “But thank you for helping me where you can. I appreciate it.”

Lav looks up at you and smiles warmly. “Always.”

If only the moment lasted longer. But when you start to feel better and your intrusive and awful questions no longer linger, Lav encourages you to return to the group. You don’t completely dismiss the idea in want of the distraction.

While you eventually calm down and go back by the couch, it’s unfortunately not long after the ordeal that you wind up being called for a visit. Knowing that it’s close to the end of the day, you’re sure Mom will have to return to the office soon to deal with releasing everyone. While you don’t look forward to her coddling, potentially having time alone with Monica soon sounds like a blessing right now. Maybe Lav and Violet don’t trust her, but you think you can.

As you say your goodbyes to the group and step out into the hall, the thought of being alone with a doctor who is itching to get out of this place too only plants ideas in your head that you’re too sheepish to go through with.

It was something you’d considered before, whether explicitly or subconsciously. But the truth of it is that Monica could help you. Monica could probably be your savior if she had the guts to try. But…

You walk with your head bowed to Mom at the gate, who awaits you with open arms. Despite unleashing her fury earlier, she remains ever chipper now, and embraces you so eagerly once you’re standing before her.

“Oh my sweet little girl,” she sighs. Every time she moves or breathes, you get a whiff of her fragrant perfume. It’s practically bleeding into your own clothes at this rate. “Mommy’s glad you’re okay.”

“Mom, will you be gentle like you told Yosuke you would be?” You question her without hesitation. “I’m still in pain after what happened.”

Mom pulls away and holds your shoulders. Her pinkish lips remain wide in a smile.

“Of course, my baby. Mommy loves your cutie doctor enough to listen to him for now. I’ll take good care of your pretty body since that witch didn’t. Now let’s get going, okay? Auntie Monica’s already waiting for us both.”

You blink. “Auntie?”

What a strange title for her to slap on the woman, but you suppose you’ll roll with it. You figure it’s just for play anyway.

Mom gives an airy chuckle and pinches your cheek playfully. “Don’t look so upset, now. We’re going to spoil our pretty little princess rotten with our touch. You should be happy we’re so willing to go out of our way to make you sing instead of cry.”

“Mom,” you try to grab her hand when she starts to run her fingers along the same cheek. She doesn’t much seem upset that you would, and humors you with a tilt of her head. “About earlier…”

“Think nothing of it,” she brushes it off. “Ten. I’m your mother, aren’t I? Mothers protect their daughters, you know.”

Your eyes widen a bit, and you grow silent as you look upon Mom’s face with your mouth slightly agape. For a moment, you start to feel ill again, like there’s something in the pit of your stomach.

The way she said that was so strange to you. Sincere isn’t the right word—or rather, you don’t think so. She’s always been so eager to play the “mommy” role rather than actually be a mother, so for her to say it like this is just strange to you. You can’t place why, but it certainly strikes a nerve.

Mom’s hand doesn’t move, and nor does yours. She only stands watching you with her green eyes, as if amused by your expression. You aren’t sure why she struck you so suddenly. Whatever this unusual feeling is, you try to push past it and simply give Mom a doe-eyed nod, the way she expects. You don’t want to fight her right now. Or is that even what you wanted to do?

Mom laughs and laughs at your expression, amused by it utterly. No longer does she say a word, but instead takes your hand away from your face and cups it. Without hesitation, she guides you away from the gate and lets it close. In moments, you’re shut out away from the others. However, you can’t help but turn your head back and wonder if Twelve is doing okay after what happened. Perhaps you’re a bit sick for thinking of him after what he did and after he crossed so many boundaries, but what he said remains stuck in your head enough to irk you. Unfortunately, with those words are the image of his face right up by yours.

You wish you didn’t think he was right about the few things he was. You wish you could just forget him entirely.

But you can’t.

Chapter 88: Visit Thirty Six - Doubles

Arriving in the room, you find Monica already seated on the right edge of the bed. It’s strange to catch her doing it, but she’s adjusting her breasts in her shirt. It feels like such a regular gesture, but one that’s so weird to see since most of the doctors don’t often let you glimpse the small awkward preparation or coming downs that you expect is likely normal in bed.

Monica’s being clothed is also a bit unexpected, since you figured you’d walk in on her in another way if she was so eager to have her fun like Mom. She catches your gaze and gives a tender little smile, yet one that feels cheekier than usual. For now, you try to remind yourself that who she is as a visitor is different from who she is when outside of her playtime. It’s like a switch has flipped, and she’s ready to indulge in her unusual fascinations. If only you could flip the same switch so as not to be put off so easily.

Your eyes glance at her rather busty chest for only a moment in your nervousness before darting away, but Monica’s face gives a knowing expression, if subtle. No doubt she’ll be feeding you again like before. It’s still something you’re reserved about despite the job not being so rough or physically demanding.

The thought bugs you. A job? This is just a job to you? So you’re just some kind of whore. That’s all the doctors see you as. What an irksome reminder.

When the door has shut behind you, Mom leans down to your ear and sweetly tells you to undress and lay down on the bed. Her voice is lively, but soft in your ear. Almost hushed, and certainly breathy the way it usually is. The way she enunciates some of her words sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re beat down from today and yesterday, so you don’t really protest. Having both her and Monica watch you undress, however, is awkward and makes you feel small. Maybe even judged. Both women are rather plump and curvy and soft. You feel incomparable. Inexperienced.

Once your gown has been tugged away and panties slipped down, you leave your clothes on the ground and quietly walk toward the bed. The cold air beats on your skin, and the cold floor does the same to the bottoms of your feet as you walk upon it. Avoiding Monica’s face, you go to the side opposite from where she’s sitting and climb up onto the mattress. The bed’s been positioned flat, and so you lay down across its length and nestle in the soft sheets and pillows.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shrouding your chest while aware of Monica beside you. She turns her body a bit to face you better, maroonish lips smiling as her hand reaches down to stroke your hair. Your head turns away from her, cheeks reddening in response to her soft touch and being so naked before her. Something about her not speaking up or making commentary just yet makes this more embarrassing for you somehow. What could she be thinking? Your mind can’t help but run.

While you remain still on the bed, Mom appears to start stripping herself of her coat, gently placing it on the nearby stool by one of the counters to your right. She also pulls out of her black heels and leaves her pantyhose-covered feet on the floor. The way she sighs pleasurably at this fact makes you wonder whether she really likes wearing heels all that often. Her reaction makes it appear like she’s much more comforted being free of them right now.

Watching her remove these things, you catch Mom wearing a knowing smile like Monica’s, and you hate it. On her, you hate it. But she promised she’d be gentle, and so you hope silently that she will. Whether she’ll “behave” is up to her. She has no Numbers to abuse you with, and so long as you remain docile with her, she will be loving to you. Plus, with Monica around, Mom’s attention can’t stay only on you forever.

Should she start indulging in playful teases or genuine sex with Monica, you really don’t want to have to sit there and watch it. But it seems most of her focus is on you. She’s been itching to play with you, after all. So will she be a hovering observer whose enjoyment comes from lording over you, or impose and make you satisfy her?

The movement of Monica’s hand stirs the air around you, and sweet odor from her sugary perfume wafts into your nose. It’s enough to distract temporarily from your thoughts, though much subtler than Mom’s despite how strong it was the first time you smelled it. Still, when Mom finally heads to the bed, her own perfume overpowers Monica’s. You guess the odor of strong spritzes is much better than any smell of blood or sterile medical instruments or the scent of your doctor’s musk or cologne you’re so used to.

Mom takes her seat upon the mattress, opposite to Monica. When you can’t avoid looking at either side of you without getting a face full of cheeky stares or curved bodies, your head turns up and you stare at the ceiling instead. Mom simply giggles watching your flushed reaction, and reaches down to rub at your cheek.

“Poor dear is so embarrassed,” she notes in amusement. “Don’t you like being touched, little girl? I’d certainly hope you prefer this to crying and being so sad.”

You don’t answer, leading Mom to laugh again. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

You feel her other hand grab hold of one of your arms and tug gently at it. “Now, sweet girl, don’t hide away so much. We want to see all of you.”

“It’s not so bad, Ten,” Monica adds chipperly. She mimics Mom’s gesture upon your other arm, and you can do nothing as both women reveal your chest and place your hands by your head. “You know we won’t hurt you. There’s no need to be so worried.”

You might not, you think bitterly. It’s like she’s forgetting how willing Mom is to beat someone into submission for pissing her off. She can’t exactly take her anger out on other doctors, after all.

Monica’s warm thumb grazes your palm a bit before she finally lets your arm go. Her hand returns to stroking your hair gently.

“Keep them right there,” Mom urges once she’s positioned your arm the way she wants it as well. “And be a good girl for us, alright? If you try to hide away again, I’ll have to bring out some restraints. Mommy doesn’t want to be so mean to you. This is all supposed to be to make you feel better and forget about all that trouble you’ve been dealing with. Don’t you want to feel better, baby?”

Both sets of fingers curl into your upward-facing palms. You hate feeling both women’s eyes study your body up and down. It’s nothing new, but still feels strange. The only positive is that they at least would know your body better than any of the men would.

“I’m…um…sorry, Mom,” you hesitate, but commit to responding at least once so Mom feels acknowledged. “It’s just awkward for me.”

The titular woman teases the underside of your chin with playful fingers. Your head turns away toward Monica, eyes shutting. She still doesn’t relent.

“Now, now, princess. Mommy knows how you are. But we’d best be well behaved since we have a guest with us. I’d hate to make a bad impression.”

“Really, Mamita, it’s fine,” Monica laughs softly and waves her free hand a bit. “You don’t need to be so courteous.”

“Nonsense—I want us both to enjoy her,” Mom refutes this politely, in her sing-songy tone. She then gives a coy pink smile as her green eyes shift to your face. “Now where should we start on our poor girl? I could sit here and tease her all day, really. She’s so touchable that way. But perhaps she needs a more involved distraction?”

You shudder as Mom’s hand grazes your neck down to your chest. When she sees your lips pressed tightly together, she giggles and starts to roll the pad of her index finger on your nipple, teasing at it slowly.

“My, my, they’re already hard.”

“It’s just cold,” you breathe an excuse. Mom doesn’t buy it and simply continues to tease you. Even Monica’s free hand is felt warmly on your other breast as she joins in on the act. Her stroking of your hair, however, continues.

“I’ve always liked this about her,” she comments sweetly. “I know my interests are weird to some people, but I really do like how soft these are. Every girl is different, too. I haven’t met a single one whose chest wasn’t beautiful to me.”

“I’m not inclined to disagree,” Mom chuckles. She tugs at your nipple, making you crack a mild whimper. “Something about women is so enticing in ways men can’t quite compare. They’re soft things. Well, usually, anyway. But of course, I have my preferences for these kinds of pretty, sweet girls.”

Her tugging leaves you wincing slightly, and your eye peeps open. “N-not so hard.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby!” Mom gasps and coddles you with her voice as she lets your nipple go “Did Mommy hurt you? Here, let me make it better.”

She scooches herself slightly down the bed so that she can lay beside you. The soft fabric of her blouse at her sleeve and side brushes against your body as she nuzzles so close to it. One of her arms slides over your tummy, hand gripping your hip as she positions herself to reach your chest.

With a playful giggle and an overexaggerated smooching noise, she plants her lips upon your nipple and kisses it hard.

“Is that better, baby?”

You blush, taken aback by the sensation. “M-Mom!”

“No?” Mom tilts her head curiously and gives a playful frown. “Let me try again.”

Once more, she gives you a rough kiss, suctioning her lips around your nipple and popping away from it in an instant. When your chest heaves at the feeling of being stroked and touched by both women atop Mom’s teases on your breast, she invites herself again to repeatedly kiss and suck at your nipple. She gives plenty of giddy laughs from her throat watching you get so flustered, until she eventually stops and hovers herself over you instead. You avoid Mom’s green-eyed gaze as she watches your red face, but it only amuses her further. She gives a soft, throated giggle and tenderly sweeps the back of her hand along your cheek.

“Such a pretty, pretty girl I have,” she coos. “So blushy, too!”

She then looks up at Monica and smirks. “You’re quite the blushy one too, aren’t you, Monica?”

When you shift your eyes up at Monica’s face for a moment, you see how red her own cheeks are. Perhaps watching Mom suck on your chest like that flustered her given the fascination she has. You even realize she isn’t squeezing at your breast quite as much as she was before Mom did what she just has.

“Well, I can’t help it,” she sheepishly acknowledges Mom’s observation, though she does brush this off with an awkward laugh. “Mamita, you seem to have experience with this.”

“Why, I’ve been around just as much as you have,” is Mom’s wily response. “Of course, I’ve always leaned toward men because I’m a sucker for them. Maybe sometimes too much of one. But don’t go thinking I haven’t enjoyed my fair share of pretty little things too.”

She turns her attention toward you and tickles the side of your body her hand is on. “Isn’t that right, my little princess?”

You can’t help but laugh in response. “M-Mom,stop! T-that tickles!”

Luckily, she doesn’t keep going with it, and instead pulls away from you to sit back up. Her hand slips from your side and instead trails along your breasts and your stomach as Mom observes your body through touch.

“You girls are so fascinating to me,” she murmurs, green eyes trailing where her fingers do. “Soft skin, round faces, pretty hair and cute voices.”

Your hands turn and clutch at the sheets. “Mom…”

Mom doesn’t really acknowledge you, her hand suddenly hovering over the area where Lucius dug into you. After observing it for a moment and running her fingers along the bandage, she tsks. “He did that, didn’t he?”

“He?” Monica raises her brows. “Mamita, let’s not-“

“Oh don’t you worry, dear Monica,” she’s interrupted. Mom smiles for her partner. “My poor girl’s imprisonment was the talk of the town around here for a while when she came back. We all know by now that she’s seen those two. It’s lucky she got to be so involved where others would never have been able to. Or would you consider that unlucky?”

Monica seems uncertain, but doesn’t protest and lets Mom keep talking. Her manicured finger continues to trace along the edges of the bandage over your stomach, and you watch her with unease.

“Lucius is a tricky man,” Mom remarks plainly. “I have many qualms about his behavior, but I have no control over him, nor any influence. You could probably tell as much.”

She sighs and retracts her hand. “Now look at me, bringing filthy men into the conversation when I’m supposed to be taking care of my poor girl. Ten, I’m so sorry.”

This, oddly, sounds genuine. But the strange remark and lull in her lively behavior hardly lasts, and Mom immediately returns to her chipper self as she pushes the thought aside.

“Monica, won’t you help me with her?” She speaks up in her lively voice. Monica looks alert. Though she had her own dip in playful demeanor in response to Mom’s sudden arousing of the topic, she seems to want to push forward too.

Mom smiles. “I want to make her blush a bit more. I saw you looking at me so eagerly when I was playing with her little nipple. Why don’t we both have at her, hm? I shouldn’t be so greedy with my little princess. I did come here to share her with you, after all. I don’t mean to make you sit and watch me toy with her.”

Monica’s hand finally leaves your head, and instead grazes her cheek as she blushes and breathes with a heaving chest. You can’t tell if she’s pretending to be flustered like before, but she’s certainly exaggerating it. “My, you’re so kind, Mamita! Of course!”

How odd seeing her act like this after her first time with you. Alone, she was a little more adamant on having her way and expressing what she wanted. Here, she’s fine resorting to being Mom’s underling, to being sweet and peppy for the woman while letting her take the lead. You know she’s said she wants to get on Mom’s good side before, but doing it like this? All it does is feed into Mom’s fetishy role. Or is that something Monica’s willing to do because she knows it makes Mom feel good?

You’re frankly confused on what her interests are here. If she truly likes Mom, perhaps she’s acting like Mom wants as a compromise, since they’re both sharing you. You were willing to try something new with Cyrus and Lav once, after all, because you cared about them. Is that the case here? It’s a twisted relationship, but maybe the two women are on the same page after all.

Like it much matters—you’re feeling flustered enough now from all the attention that maybe you’re reaching for something to distract you from it all. But your body is choosing to disobey your mind and doesn’t appear to want that, because it feels fairly warm and weak beneath both women.

You watch with unease as Monica shimmies down on the bed like Mom had. For just a moment, her chest is close to your head, and you’re left red-faced at the sight of her cleavage. She’s a gifted one. You certainly remember that.

Once both women are by your side. They exchange laughter at your expense.

“She’s like a little tomato!” Mom comments livelily, drawing your attention with a turn of your head. Her hand cups your cheek, and she croons. “It’s just what I love about sweet things like her. And she’s been such a good girl for me lately. Haven’t you, Ten?”

You don’t answer. Even if you wanted to, her thumb reaches out and slips past your lips and teases at your tongue, so you don’t even bother.

She smiles knowingly. “Suck. Go on.”

You look at her with a bit of a growing pout, but are suddenly taken aback by the feeling of Monica’s mouth planting itself over your right breast and proceeding to suck at it. Mom looks over at her and lets out an amused chortle.

“Monica! I didn’t mean you! And here I thought you were more patient than me!” She then shakes her head upon watching her partner continue to suckle you eagerly. A subtle moan emerges from Monica’s throat, and Mom simply smiles and “gives in” to the woman.

“Oh, if you insist. I can’t say no to a face like yours.”

Monica seems to have been much more eager to do this to you than you thought. She’s hardly paying any mind to anything else now, her hand planted tenderly on your upper abdomen and rubbing delicately at the flesh with warm fingers. You gasp and sigh at how forceful she is in sucking your breast, like some hungry animal. She wasn’t like that last time, you don’t think.

Though Mom bade you to keep your arms against the bed, you can’t help but reach down with one hand and grip at Monica’s hair. It’s a bit of a reflex, you admit, but she’s so forceful in her sucking that you can’t help it. It tickles and feels strange in a way you can’t describe. Because you’re so stricken by the sensation, your first instinct is to push her away, but you don’t. It would do little anyway.

You let out a few breaths and hesitant moans into Mom’s thumb, only enticing her. She rubs at your tongue so sweetly and bends down to plant a sweet, exaggerated kiss on your forehead.

“So cute!” She breathes. “Now suck on my thumb, princess, like I asked you to.”

Your body quivers, but you obey her and proceed to suck as told. When Mom’s face again hovers atop yours as she sits back up, she smiles wider.

“Good girl. You’re being a good girl for Mommy, mm?”

Your fingers dig into Monica’s scalp as her rather aggressive suckling continues. Only a few times does she stop to circle your nipple and flick at it with her tongue, but she mostly commits to sucking it hungrily.

It’s strange to feel her like this again. And while you’d like to just take it and get it over with, Mom insists on making it more embarrassing for you.

“Moan, princess,” she bids you with a soft, airy voice. “You want your auntie to know she’s doing a good job, don’t you?”

You shift your eyes away, but try to force out a light moan. It’s more of a peep, unfortunately.

“More,” Mom presses again, dissatisfied with that attempt. This time, you let out a long, girlish moan, and this is enough to make Mom laugh at your expense.

“So sweet,” she sighs pleasurably. “Mommy wants to make you feel good too, so she’s going to take her thumb out and move down with your auntie, okay?”

She hardly waits for a response, and wetly slides her thumb out of your mouth. Saliva trails out with your soft breaths, but she hardly bothers to clean it. Instead, Mom takes her place by your other side, scooting down so that her head is able to meet your breast again. Like Monica, she prepares to latch herself to you..

However, she pauses a moment and looks up at you with her wily green eyes, pinkish lips smirking as she watches your reserved expression. She can’t help but give another airy laugh at you, but says nothing else. Simply, she shifts her hair away from her shoulder and face, and leans down to kiss and suck at your nipple.

She isn’t anywhere near as forceful in her suckling as Monica, but more so playful and light. Mom’s tongue commits more to teasing at your sensitive skin rather than attempting to “feed” from you. Her hand playfully squeezes wherever her mouth can’t cover, and you remain limp, exerting heavy, flustered breaths as both women continue to tease your chest. Any moans or giggles they let out only resound against your skin. The bobbing of their heads as they lick and suck and nibble at such a sensitive area leaves you feeling weak.

Both women’s perfumes intertwine as they meet your nose. It’s dizzying to smell such sweetness and feel such tender touches on your abdomen. Your eyes wind up slowly closing as you just give into it. But it’s not long after doing so that you’re snapped back to attention upon feeling Mom’s hand glide away from your chest and down to your legs.

You pick your head up promptly when she starts to run a few fingers up and down your slit. Though you keep your knees shut, it’s not hard for her to snake her way past your pressed thighs to reach where she wants.

She pulls her mouth away then, chuckling softly as she observes the area between your legs by touch. Her tongue drips just barely with saliva as she retracts.

“My, my,” she croons as her gaze again meets yours. “My little girl is already so wet. Such a good little princess. Her body knows just how to behave.”

She tilts her head a bit. “Does my baby finally know how to obey? She hasn’t even tried to fight like before.”

Your chest heaves another breath since Monica’s still working your nipple so feverously. She must be in heaven right now.

You want to respond to Mom, but she hardly lets you. She simply gives a little pout.

“Now, sweetie, don’t look so down!” she babies you with an exaggerated tone. Her fingers continue to glide up and down your slit. When she reaches up to your clit, the pads of her fingers remain there and tease it. Your legs wriggle a bit, but Mom doesn’t relent. “We’re here to make you come, remember? Let us adore your cute body, Ten.”

Monica finally pauses her suckling to take a breath. She pulls away from your chest, your hand slipping off her head and back to the bed. Seeing her partner’s flushed face and wet mouth, Mom looks Monica’s way and laughs.

“Finally coming up for air? Well, I see why you like this so much, dear Monica,” she comments. The woman at your left looks over Mom’s way with a bit of a glazed expression, though she does flash a smile.

“Sorry for being a little eager,” she apologizes, voice chipper. “But I am having fun!”

Mom’s eyes shift to you. “Well, you shouldn’t be the only one having fun here, mm?”

At once, Mom’s fingers slip back down to your pussy, and she wastes no time pushing them into you.

“They slide in so easily! What a precious little girl. So eager for mommy’s fingers.”

“I-I can’t really stop my body from responding to touch,” you refute this, but Mom doesn’t listen. She watches you amorously as her fingers begin to pump in and out of your cunt. She does it so forcefully at first that you can’t help but let out a flustered peep.

“Hush now, my baby,” Mom coos, bending down to kiss your cheek. You presume she shoved her fingers into you just to get you to stop talking, because after your noise, she goes back to being gentle with her motions by resorting back to sliding her fingers slowly in and out of you. “Lay back and let us finish.”

Monica observes her work on your breast and laughs a bit. “It’s a little swollen now. I guess I was too harsh.”

Mom smirks a bit. “Nonsense—Ten here loves the attention. I’m sure you’ve already come to know that after your first time with her.”

You heave a flustered sigh when Mom’s fingers curl inside you before continuing to stroke slowly at your walls.

“She still seems so hesitant to open up, though,” Monica remarks unhappily. “Ten, I wonder if you realize how good it feels to explore your body and enjoy it. Not just what’s between your legs, but everywhere else. Have you ever touched yourself? Even just your chest?”

You can only breathe. “N-no.”

Monica smiles and takes your hand from the bed, where it slid to once Monica pulled away from your chest. Gently cupping the back of it, she guides your palm to your swollen breast and makes you grab it. Her fingers guide yours to curl around the soft skin and pliable shape of it. You don’t want to do this, but refuse to get Mom angry with you. Even with her green eyes so tender and lively, she’s still watching you like a hawk.

Monica’s breath hits your face as she leans in closer to you, close enough for her lips to reach your ear.

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” She asks, almost with a whisper. Her voice is as sweet as her perfume. “Soft. Warm. Plump, even. But firm is also just as good.”

“I…” You can only moan as Mom’s fingers continue to torment you. Even though they’re pumping so slowly inside you, paired with Monica’s sweet voice and the warmth over your chest, you’re utterly dizzy.

Monica’s lips so close to your ear causes you to turn away from her, but Mom doesn’t let you avoid participating. She shifts herself up just a little bit more, enough for her to reach your face rather than your chest. Before you can refuse her, she shifts her body so that it’s pressed even more against you, and forces her pinkish lips upon you while letting out a low moan. She plays it up, but makes it sound like the very act of kissing you is arousing. All her hungry little moans spill and muffle against your mouth.

She tastes sweet, but you don’t want to taste her. But with her fingers pumping so lovingly into you, with her warmth enveloping your body, and with Monica whispering so sweetly in your ear, you can’t help but feel turned on. You feel like you haven’t even done much this visit and you just feel so goddamn warm.

Your legs shift subtly about as you wriggle beneath Mom’s touch. Your nose lets out heavy breaths as your mouth is engulfed in wet kisses and Mom’s soft tongue.

Every bit of flesh beneath your hand as Monica continues making you fondle your own breast is warm. You also remain intensely aware of your nipple being rolled slightly as your hand is moved, and it’s unfortunately stimulating. Perhaps it’s just because Monica sucked it so raw, but it feels much more sensitive than before.

Mom briefly pauses her working of your lips and pulls just enough away to observe your face. Once you have a chance to breathe, you start to let out bothered and long-drawn breaths of air. Mom simply giggles softly at the sight.

“You don’t have to hold on so much, little girl,” she coos. “Come for mommy, okay?”

You do little more than let out a cracked and restrained moan as Mom’s fingers again curl inside your pussy. To make matters worse, she pecks at your lips again and again the way she had your nipple earlier, pressing her skin against yours over and over and over with trailing giggles.

“Come for mommy,” she sweetly bids you once more. Her thumb starts to tease your clit, nestling upon it and working it in circular motions. She’s just eager to get you to give in.

“Come on, my sweet little princess.”

Both women smother you in kisses and warm touches until your body cracks under the pressure, and you can’t stop the warmth from bubbling over inside you. Your legs shift restlessly around, hands grabbing at sheets or skin or whatever else you don’t care to think about as you start coming. Waves of pleasure jolt around in your body as you become intensely aware of every sensation on your body—fingers in your cunt, lips on your cheek and mouth, breath beating against your face and neck, and hair brushing along your ear. You can only whine into Mom’s mouth as she envelops your own with her affectionate kisses. But between them, she just continues to giggle and giggle like a schoolgirl.

In your pleasure, you could only focus on all the touches and smells, but it’s not until you tune back into everything that you start to realize she’s praising you between kisses.

“Oh, my good girl. My sweet, good girl!”

Not only that, but Monica’s own chipper voice is laughing so sweetly in your ear. You don’t know when her hand left yours, but she’s no longer keeping it pinned to your breast, and instead your hand is freely cupping it on your own. Rather, Monica’s arm has reached over to wrap around your waist and envelop you in a tight hug.

“She’s so cute,” she chortles. “She hasn’t even let go of her tits yet.”

You’re jarred by it all, and when Mom lets your lips go for good, your head turns back up to face the ceiling.

Despite your bewilderment and pleasure, you simply lay there sucking in heavy breaths with your mouth wide open.

Mom’s fingers slowly leave you. She smiles watching you on the bed, amused wholly by your orgasm.

“It seems that our little girl enjoyed herself,” She comments coyly. “But we’re not done here just yet.”

She rises, finally, and sits back up on the bed. When Monica does the same, you’re left naked and wet with your hand atop your breast. Embarrassed upon realizing you’re still holding your hand there, you take it away and bring it back to the mattress.

Mom says nothing, but starts to unbutton her blouse. As if understanding this as a silent gesture to do the same, Monica sits up and starts to undress as well.

Both women reveal their bare skin and lingerie without much of an issue, and in fact seem to relish in making you watch them as they strip down. You blush seeing their busty chests and bare abdomens, and though you admit they’re beautiful, you try not to stare. You don’t want to associate this kind of thing positively with them.

Both doctors have to stand to remove the clothes on their lower bodies, which only makes it harder to avoid looking their way. Their curvy hips and smooth thighs are in full view given the level your eyes are at. Why it flusters you is…difficult to explain.

Mom notices you being so hesitant to stare and smiles. “Ten, are you embarrassed? Still? Poor thing.”

She starts to step around the bed to where Monica is, and you watch with wide eyes and red cheeks as she starts to bounce the woman’s rather sizable breasts in her cupped hands. Monica, however, is far less surprised and much more giddy about it.

“Come, now, little girl,” Mom calls to you with a smirk. “ No need to be so flustered that you’re having so much fun. Women are just as fun as men. And, sometimes, just a little bit more.”

“M-mamita!” Monica giggles as her hand reaches up to her cheek. “You didn’t even ask!”

But it’s clear she isn’t against it—her face is as flustered as it was before. She’s doing little to hide how much she likes the attention.

Mom switches from bouncing Monica’s breasts to simply touching and playing with them. Like it’s such a nonchalant thing to do, she continues to keep the conversation up.

“Now do tell me, my dear, just where on earth you got so curious about girls that you found you liked this sort of thing? I just have to know.”

“I can’t quite remember where it started,” is Monica’s giddy response. “I started hanging around a few girls at some point and found I just liked the feeling of it a lot.”

“Oh? And what about that little milking fascination of yours?” Mom’s smile does not relent. She makes eye contact with Monica, who in response keeps her gaze low and longing as she relishes in her partner’s touch.

“I just got a little curious after enjoying breasts so much,” she admits. “I’d heard about girls being able to do it and wanted to try. Some of my partners at the time were pretty excited about the idea. The rest is history.”

Mom grins. “Naughty girl. But do be a little more considerate, now.”

“Huh?”

Mom’s eyes shift over to you on the bed. “Our little girl needs more attention. I know you’re so eager for a little touch judging by that red face of yours, but her first.”

She finally lets Monica’s tits rest, pulling her hands away. Given how much she seemed to be enjoying it, Monica seems just a tinge disheartened not to keep being touched. However, she moves on from this quickly and gives a sheepish laugh.

“Of course. My bad!”

Mom again looks at Monica and runs a hand down her cheek. “Well, if you’re so needy, do what I know you want to while I give her a good girl treat. How’s that sound?”

“I can’t complain,” is Monica’s happy response. “Shall we?”

Frankly, you were getting comfortable being alone on the bed, but your brief respite from all the flustering touches and giddy attention is now over as both women head your way again. Monica has you sit up so that she can sit close to the edge of the bed. She has to sort of shimmy onto and turn her body on the mattress enough so that she’s not right at the edge and you have room to lay across her lap. It’s enough that when you’re told to lay back, you don’t wind up with one leg hanging over the side of the bed, and can instead lay along it more easily, if at a very slight angle.

You’re cradled in one of Monica’s arms, close to her chest. You feel a bit embarrassed being so close against her again, but stay quiet while she and Mom position themselves. Certainly in not the most conventional way, but one that’s comfortable enough. This bed is, after all, fairly roomy for what it is.

For now, you avoid looking toward her chest, and instead turn your head to the rest of the room. It’s unremarkable, since you’ve seen it so many times. Though, you wonder just why Monica and Mom didn’t take you to one of the bigger beds in the other room you were in with Jonathan and Nathaniel yesterday. Perhaps they just like this one, or else it was just easier.

While your left arm remains still at your hip, the other arm is nestled across your stomach, so as to avoid being uncomfortably pinned between your side and Monica’s body. The cover on the bandage over your abdomen brushes against your forearm upon putting it into place, leaving you with another bitter reminder about why it’s there.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Mom getting onto the bed near Monica. She sits on her knees on the same side as her, but by your legs. Patiently, she waits and watches your uncomfortable face. You both know what’s coming, and she simply adores observing you try to prepare for it.

“Ten, you’re still such a hesitant girl,” she teases, reaching a hand to rub at the front of your thigh. “Yet you do let your bodily needs take over more than you used to. I must say, you’re doing much better than you were. You do see how pleasurable it is to accept what we do, don’t you? Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s not because of that, Mom.” You turn your head away. “I just know I can’t get anywhere with you by fighting. I’m tired.”

Mom smiles wide, lips pressed tight. However, she does manage a response. “Oh dear. Is that not the same thing?”

The warmth of her hand leaves your thigh, and she instead kneels up and scoots over behind Monica. “Well anyway, no need to get all worked up about it. How about we get started?”

Monica turns her head to the left and right to try seeing what her partner is up to, only to be taken aback by her bra slipping forward as Mom has apparently unhooked it. The straps fall down her shoulders, and immediately, Monica’s free hand raises up to grab one of them.

“Mamita, goodness!” She chortles—a rather good sport about all the tricky things Mom’s doing without asking her first, you find. Though she’s as much a horny fuck as anyone else here, so you doubt she minds it. At least not from Mom.

“Oops, I guess my hand slipped,” is the wily woman’s response to Monica’s pretend-embarrassment. She rests her hands on Monica’s shoulders and leans forward, lips meeting her right ear.

“Now look at you and your talents,” she teases. Monica turns away from Mom’s lips, but does give a giddy smile, like she’s on cloud nine. “I’m quite jealous!”

Mom looks down at you from over Monica’s shoulder and grins. “Little girl, now don’t be rude and just stare. I’m sure Monica would love to hear you say she has a nice pair of tits.”

You’d rather not.

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Mamita,” Monica tells her, turning her head back to try seeing Mom from behind her. Thankfully you’re spared from having to give a compliment. “You’re pretty ‘talented’ yourself.”

Mom laughs so poshly. “Oh look at her, trying to make me feel better!”

She plants a quick kiss on her partner’s cheek and pulls away. “What a sweetie. But don’t mind me. I’m perfectly fine here with my little girl. And of course I’ll spoil her rotten. And since you’re here this time, then we both will. Won’t we?”

Monica nods, drawing another smile from Mom. Satisfied with the slight teases, Mom scoots back to where your legs are and spreads the one closest to her open with one gentle motion of her hands. Her touch is soft, but you know how deceptive she can be. Monica however, is still trying to be kind.

She moves slowly, though does try to tug away the remainder of her bra, even temporarily letting her arm move from cradling you just to slip the strap off. You can feel the fabric of her underwear rubbing against you, and the warmth of her skin sliding around on your bare back and arms. It’s such a small thing, but oddly dizzying. Coupled with the rather grand sight of her completely naked chest now, you’re every bit flustered now as you were before.

Laying idly is no longer an option once Monica’s attention is solely on you again. She wastes little time nudging you closer to her chest, and without really being told what to do, you proceed to open your mouth and lean forward to plant it over her left nipple. With your upper body having to turn, your other arm curls forward, nestled between Monica’s breasts. With how much she’s blushing and smiling, you’re sure she’s got nothing to complain about with you like this.

“Such a good girl,” Mom swoons at the sight, verbalizing what Monica won’t. “And good girls get treats, don’t they?”

Your eyes shut so as not to keep staring only at the wall of skin before you, but you can’t help but let out a loud nasally breath upon feeling Mom’s fingers again sliding up and down your slit.

“Still so wet, like a good girl should be. But Mommy can make it just a little wetter.”

You then feel the brushing of her skin as Mom shifts down on the bed, a leg brushing against yours briefly. Mom makes room for herself by opening your right leg wide. The other, however, doesn’t get moved too much so it doesn’t fall off the bed, though Mom does push and hold it slightly aside with one hand.

Your pussy’s still fairly slick from the fingering earlier, something that’s made more apparent when the cold air of the room hits you there.

Your fingers curl against Monica’s chest as Mom’s fingers tease at your clit. You can’t even really tell what position she’s in, but you can feel her nestled somewhere in the wide open space between your legs. When she giggles, the heat of her breath beats against your most sensitive areas.

It’s difficult to concentrate on milking Monica like she wants when you know Mom’s face is so close to your pussy. Your thighs are subtly shivering in anticipation, much to the woman’s playful delight.

In the back of your mind you keep wondering when your suckling on Monica’s breast is going to result in the same flavor on your tongue as before. It’s hard to avoid thinking about it, really. The technique she made you use on her is the same as it was last time, only you’re not struggling to do it as forcefully this time because you’re sure she wants it like that. When she lets out these delicate little sighs and curls her fingers against your scalp as if to pet and grip you more eagerly, you know it’s working.

And when the familiar flavor finally does emerge, though you’re a bit taken aback in your self-awareness of it as it drips along your tongue, you try not to pull away this time and simply keep sucking. Monica simply cherishes the feeling of your suckling lips and tongue, sighs growing heavier as she remains enamored.

You only pause the motions of your jaw to let out a muffled peep of a moan as Mom’s tongue promptly flicks at your clit, trailing your wet vulva from the bottom up to do so. What makes it worse is that she takes her sweet time with the gesture, like she’s relishing in torturing you with the enticing sensation.

She slurps up and kisses between your legs so eagerly, but she doesn’t linger there for too long. Rather, Mom pulls away just for a moment to watch your reaction before laughing so giddily. Only then does she return to her work, starting with planting several eager kisses all along your thigh.

When you pull away just slightly to breathe and gasp harshly through your mouth in response, Monica holds your head closer against her, urging you to keep going.

“Relax,” she laughs softly. “It’ll feel good.”

The way she’s cooing close to your ear with such a sweet voice doesn’t help the flustered feeling in your chest. You’re already feeling pretty weak-kneed from being fingered and kissed and touched as it is. This is certainly making things in your chest much more fluttery, you hate to admit. What’s more, she starts reaching her free hand up to pet the side of your head that’s exposed to her with such gentle strokes that you just want to melt.

You feel like a goddamn toy for these women, yet you can’t help but feel limp being held and teased like this.

Monica chuckles. “Don’t stop, mijita. I know you’re flustered, but you need to keep going.”

You realize then that Mom’s attention to your lower body has again distracted you temporarily from sucking quite as effectively, but you try to correct the mistake promptly.

God you can’t take much more of this. Your toes are starting to curl the longer Mom’s tongue teases your clit. She keeps stopping to lap up your juices with long, wet licks, teasing you with so many pauses on the slow-rising pleasure and instead delivering it in short bursts that you start to feel grumpy about not being fulfilled continuously. You almost feel greedy as your brows scrunch up in response.

But Mom evidently knows what she’s doing, goading you into wanting more. She giggles into your folds as she gleefully tongues and wriggles at your clit to excite you. And just as you start to feel your body ready to explode again, she pulls away and leaves you huffing through your nose impatiently.

“Oh, is my little girl disappointed that I’m not letting her come yet?” She teases. Mom shifts up to kneel on the bed, and when your eyes open and flash her a side glance, you can see her looking at you with such a devilish smirk, a finger curled against her lips. “Now, now, don’t get so fussy my baby. Mommy’s got a better idea to please you than just using her tongue and fingers. Close your eyes, princess, and just keep drinking your milk, okay?”

You remain frustrated, but do so and listen as Mom makes her way off the bed. Instead of getting more pleasure, you lay there unfulfilled while continuing to suckle on Monica’s nipple. At the very least, her continued petting of your head and soft, flustered sighs are, embarrassingly enough, comforting.

What’s wrong with you? You’re usually so resistant and angry. Now you’re just whoring out to both women like it’s normal. You thought it was because you were afraid of Mom—you still are, of course. But right now it feels like your body’s desires have completely overshadowed your rationale. You’re either too tired and out of it to keep fighting, or else you’re liking the attention after all. You don’t want to think that’s the case when Mom’s treatment of you isn’t too far off from Yosuke’s. Yet Mom’s words about this subject earlier, while odd, start to feel now like they had a point.

All you know is that getting some kind of closure from Monica afterwards is what’s keeping you going. The sooner you please Mom by letting her baby you, the sooner you’ll get your reward.

Monica’s hand has left your head by now, though you lost track of when, since the impression of its warmth is still on you even after it’s gone. When you peep an eye open, you notice that she’s instead resorted to massaging at and tweaking her other nipple as her pleasure in nursing you rises.

You temporarily shut your eyes again while continuing to feed from her, until you suddenly hear a buzzing noise that’s loud enough to snap you to attention. For just a moment, your eyes shoot open, and you pull away from Monica to turn your head toward the end of the bed. There, you see Mom holding what you assume is a vibrator in her hand. There’s another she’s brought that’s fairly identical, but she’s left it on the other side of the bed, away from your open leg.

You suck in breaths that waver in your nervous anticipation for Mom’s intentions. But when Monica calls your name, you wind up looking at her with doeish, but nervous eyes before continuing to keep sucking on her nipple. She only laughs at you.

“She’s pretty jittery,” she remarks jovially. “Ten, I said relax. Mamita will make you feel alright.”

“Better than alright,” answers Mom with a smirk. “Monica, dear, I hope you don’t mind more teeth. She might start biting just to quell the sensation of being fucked by a vibrator.”

Monica smiles. “I have a pretty high pain tolerance on my old girls. I’ve had a lot of rough experiences, but found with time that I didn’t actually hate it.”

Mom gives a condescending laugh. “My, sounds like you and Lilah surprisingly have something in common. But let’s not spoil the mood, now.”

She doesn’t bother to get on the bed again, instead walking to its side by your left leg. Without hesitation, Mom slides the vibrator into your pussy, walls being pushed against by the smooth silicone. You squeak a moan at how forceful it is, but it’s not painful. Simply surprising after just being given fingers and no more. Being a few sizes up in comparison, the vibrator feels more filling than you anticipated.

“Little cutie,” Mom coos as she turns the thing on with one light click of a button. When your legs immediately start to move, Mom tsks at you and bends down to reach and hold your right leg open. “Be a good girl and take it, alright?”

You don’t mean to, but the initial shock of the vibrations do leave you to nibble a bit too hard at Monica’s nipple, and she winces a bit. Not unsatisfactorily, of course—she winds up biting her painted lip so hungrily.

“Feel good, my little angel?” Mom teases with a precious tone. The hand on your leg retracts to the vibrator to start wriggling and pumping it into you with slow motions, while her free hand comes down and settles a few of its fingers on your clit to tease it with. You can only moan and whine in response, hands tightening into a fist over Monica’s chest and your abdomen as you’re forced to take every sensation in your lower body.

“Oh, she’s such a good little girl, isn’t she?” Mom’s babyish tone rings in your ear as you lay weak to all the stimulation. You fail to keep suckling Monica as roughly as before, but she seems not to mind letting you lessen your pace as she watches your eager reaction to the vibrator inside you. Her face is about as red as yours, though she’s laughing while you wail pleasurably into her flesh.

Your toes curl as the vibrator does its job tormenting you with its incessant sensations, and you embarrassingly wind up coming rather quickly as you’re cradled and cooed over by both women watching you so hungrily. But with the vibrator continuing to whir inside you, your orgasm lasts quite a bit longer than you expected, and comes more intensely.

It’s enough for you not to be able to keep on Monica’s breast for much longer. You instead pull your hand away from her chest, lay back in her cradling arm, and stir and writhe while letting out a loud wails. Your legs tense up and shift around, but Mom keeps the vibrator deep inside you as you let go.

“Oh my!” Mom breathes as she watches you with lusty green eyes. “What a dirty little girl!”

“P-please…!” You cry, unable to muster more words beyond that. Mom simply gives such a girlish giggle, but doesn’t let the vibrator leave you. She smiles a pink smile, and proceeds to run a hand down your left outer thigh.

“Finish your milk, sweetie,” she bids you with a tender voice.

With how much you’re sucking in heavy breaths and heaving your chest, keeping up with your suckling is the last thing on your mind. However, Monica guides your head back toward her chest and keeps you affixed to her. Suckling isn’t what you do, but she doesn’t much mind so long as her milk remains in your mouth. You have to swallow it to keep the sweet flavor from dribbling out all over your lips, but you keep whining in between each gulp with Mom continuously tormenting you with her little toy.

You feel like you’re going crazy, but there’s nothing you can do but whine and breathe heavily. Perhaps you’re crying in pleasure, but that only makes Mom’s smile grow.

“It’s okay, baby,” she coos. “Just a little longer and you can rest a little. Doesn’t it feel good, though? Being adored by two women?”

Your eyes glaze over as Mom’s hand continues to run up and down your thigh, and Monica’s fingers in her cradling hand nestle in your hair and massage your scalp. At some point all your intense cries die down into babyish murmurs that muffle into Monica’s breast, your body going limp as it succumbs to everything. Only then does Mom finally turn the thing off and let you rest.

By now your mouth is dripping saliva and milk. Despite your best efforts not to let any of it spill out, some does. When Monica pulls you from her chest and lets you rest in her arm, she smiles seeing your messy mouth and wipes away the excess fluid with one swift motion of her other hand.

Mom slowly pulls the vibrator from your sopping cunt and chuckles seeing just how aroused everything made you. “My little girl was so naughty today. Did you enjoy yourself, my baby?”

You don’t answer, instead breathing deeply and letting your eyes close for a moment so you can recover. Mom simply sets the dirty vibrator elsewhere, though you hear her pick up the one still on the bed.

“Well, I’d say she enjoyed her treat,” chimes Mom. “But Monica, dear, you can’t really just be satisfied with being milked a little.”

Monica gets flustered. “Really, Mamita, it’s fine. I don’t need much more.”

However, Mom doesn’t much buy into it. “Oh please, that’s a lie. I see how eager you are. Mind you, I’m feeling quite generous tonight, and since you’re our guest, it’d be rude not to fulfill your needs too. Don’t you think so, Ten?”

“I think she’s spent,” Monica observes as she likely looks you over. She bounces you in her arm slightly, but all you do is curl your body to the side and nestle against her. “Poor thing, let’s not overstimulate her more.”

Your eyes slowly open, and dart to the side to catch a glimpse of Mom in her lacy black underwear, holding the clean vibrator in her hand so casually. She smiles a toothy smile at Monica and you.

“Monica, I do love my little girl so, but I’d like to give a treat to everyone who behaves for me,” she says. “And you, my dear, have entertained me well enough today. I see how you look at me when I get a little touchy. I’m sure you want it.”

“Oops,” Monica giggles a bit. “Well, if you’d like…”

Mom tilts her head. “Think of it as a little sendoff, since I have to get going pretty soon. And Ten, I know you’re a little weary after all that commotion, but Mommy needs you to help out for this one. But don’t you worry—your part is easy.”

You say nothing at first, but when you see Mom’s eyes lock onto yours, you figure she expects you to answer. So, in your weak state, you let out a stuttering, “O-okay, Mom.”

“Good girl.”

Mom instructs Monica to lay along the bed, and makes you cling to her side and hug her hip. While you’re still on her left, she mentions to you to start with Monica’s other breast given how swollen the left one is by now.

As Monica lays back, her breasts fall slightly to the side, though they’re still reachable with you laying slightly lower than her. You’re aware just what your job is, given Monica’s still leaking milk slightly. Not quite a lot, but you figure they could start up again with enough stimulation, and that’s where you’re supposed to come in. But for now, you lay babyishly nuzzled against Monica’s chest, as you’re expected to. You say nothing, knowing not to draw attention to yourself any further.

With a smile on her lips, Mom comes to Monica’s side, close to her head, and reaches down to pluck the glasses from her face so gently with her free hand.

“You look much cuter without,” she coos, placing them somewhere above Monica’s head, out of reach. She runs her fingers through Monica’s hair with adoration. “Such pretty brown eyes.”

Monica almost looks at her with babyish curiosity at these words, drawing a pinkish smile from the woman hovering above her. The exchange provides an odd sight.

Mom has never been known, at least in your eyes, as someone who’s willed herself to share so much of her time with others during visits, and especially not the kind to put her own pleasure aside for someone else’s. Surely she’s getting off on the mere image of making or watching others come, and on the power she has over those she sees. But right now, it’s strange to you to hear her speak so kindly to Monica, even if it’s in a playful way. You never thought she’d play so nice with another doctor than Yosuke, whom she expressed a want to share you with, and who she has always been so eager to hang around.

“Normally I’d be much greedier, of course,” Mom chimes in, voice interrupting your thoughts. She’s now by Monica’s hips, holding the vibrator in her hands and touching its rounded tip with one delicate finger. “It’s my right to be so. But like I said, I’m in a good mood today.”

She smiles seeing Monica on the bed, legs touching together, clothed in her high-waisted brown panties. Without hesitation, she stands beside Monica and reaches down to tug at the garment’s waistline. She manages to keep the toy curled against her palm with a few fingers, but keeps her thumb and index finger open to help undress her partner.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken these off yet, you eager girl.”

Monica smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Or you were hoping I’d do it for you?” Mom cocks a grin. “Naughty. In any case, Ten, do give your auntie some more attention, mm?”

She finally manages to tug the underwear down entirely, eased by Monica’s shuffling and wiggling her hips up and around to help her. As ordered, you continue to suckle Monica on her other breast, reaching your body up just a bit to let your lips meet her nipple. Your hand has to move from her waist to support you, instead folding between your arm and her stomach. Whatever fingers can reach are dedicated to holding her breast where your lips don’t touch.

It would have been easier for you to lay on Monica’s other side to begin with, but you’re sure Mom had you do this on purpose, knowing you’d have to get a bit more intimate with the woman by nearly splaying yourself along her stomach just to reach her other nipple. Your skin brushing against hers provides for a rather warm, intimate sensation. And no doubt Monica’s far too delighted by the gesture now that she knows she’s about to be pleasured on top of getting to keep breastfeeding you.

You notice she’s completely fine not doing anything so off-the-wall or straining to her body. Laying back with a few pretty women and a vibrator is enough, you guess. Though, you can’t complain about the idea of it either after reacting so strongly to it just a moment ago.

It does feel odd being a participant again, though, even if you’re not straining your body like you have before. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you’ve been the one on the giving side. Most of the doctors just take from you, and only expect you to partake if they want you to attend to whatever’s between their legs. They love humiliating you.

While your face is dedicated to Monica’s direction, you can just barely see Mom out of the corner of your eye. She observes Monica’s lower body by touch and with her green eyes. Unlike you, Monica is a fully willing player who allows herself to be displayed. She lets out a subtle, happy sigh as Mom’s hand runs along the woman’s inner leg, trailing from her thigh to her knee, then back up again.

As Monica’s hand grazes the back of your head and holds you close against her, Mom lets out a throated giggle.

“So you get wet just being teased? Or were you hoping this entire time that Ten wasn’t the only one who’d get my love?” She then gives a rather cheeky smile. “You’re no better than my little girl, are you? But that’s a good thing, of course. Makes it nice and easy.”

Monica relishes in the attention, letting her head fall to the side, away from you, as more soft sighs come out of her smiling lips the longer you suckle her. They grow the more Mom teases her, as her clit is rubbed against by the head of the toy, and legs continuously pet. Once her eagerness and incessant shifting of her legs is relentless, Mom eventually slips the vibrator inside Monica, whose fingers curl in your hair as a result.

Her noises are more pronounced than you expect, but you partly think she’s playing it up more than she had with you just to make Mom feel good. Though, you don’t doubt she’s enjoying herself either—you only shared one night with her, but it was enough to give you an idea of how she is when she’s horny. You don’t find an event like that easy to forget.

Your eyes shift up to catch her face, but Monica is paying little attention to anything particular and has her brown eyes completely closed as she flusters and sighs underneath all the affection. Her free hand balls into a fist, clutching at the sheets as Mom continues to tease and touch the woman so delicately, but it’s not long before you catch the whirring sounds of the vibrator as she clicks it on.

This, you find, makes Monica’s noises much louder and more groaning. Every heaving of her chest or roll of moans resounds in her body and against you.

“Oh, my!” She gasps as Mom works her pussy with the toy. Mom simply smiles.

“Feel good?”

Monica, despite being so flustered, laughs between her breaths. “Mamita, don’t make fun of me!”

“Oh, I do apologize. But I can’t help myself with a cutie like you.”

Monica’s flustered sighs and moans just keep rolling into laughter. “You’re too much, Mamita.”

Mom’s smile spreads, but she says nothing as she continues to torment Monica with the vibrator. Monica’s hips start to rock into it the longer it sits inside her. It’s embarrassing watching her get off on it, but you do try to help her along as you’re expected.

You notice, however, that Mom doesn’t stay still for too much longer as she notices Monica getting more and more toward her peak. She keeps her hand affixed to the toy, but does move her body forward a little more just so she can bend down to reach Monica’s face with her own.

Without a word, both women’s lips meet, and you watch from beneath their chins as they enjoy each other’s rather sloppy company so near your face. Their kissing is, for lack of a better word, quite passionate—you didn’t really expect it to be, but figure in the moment, they’re enjoying it.

Mom lets out her own little sighs and giggles, while Monica just moans and breathes heavily between kisses, anytime Mom pulls away briefly. Their light noises ring in your ear so sweetly.

It’s not long before Monica collapses into her own ecstasy. She lets out an airy series of cries of “oh, god!” and pleasured moans between kisses, and only when she starts to come does Mom pull away to watch Monica’s face.

You stop suckling the moment she orgasms, and simply lay your cheek against her. You stare emptily at the skin of her abdomen while her chest heaves and her hips roll against the vibrator. Only after a while of it does she finally slow down and let her noises quiet.

Mom immediately shuts off the vibrator and pulls it out of her with a slow, steady hand. As with the other, she places it aside, and simply stands above Monica, watching her recover.

“Looks like you had a good time,” she comments cheekily. “Didn’t you?”

“You got me,” breathes Monica, still with her eyes closed. “Thank you, Mamita.”

Mom chuckles. “I’m so glad I got to make the both of you sing. I only wish I could stay longer and have my fill. But I suppose I can make my new boy take care of that for me, since my One is still sleeping away like a precious prince. I’d hate suffocating him with affection when he’s having his little snooze.”

“I should get my Number too soon, shouldn’t I?” Monica frowns. Mom waves her hand in response.

“Don’t you worry about it. He can wait, can’t he? I would hate to rain on your little parade here.” She then puts a hand on her hip and gives a knowing smile. “And mind you, I’m not a fool. I know what you’re up to.”

You try not to react, but do feel your eyes tense as you keep your gaze focused only on the same spot of skin you have been staring at. Monica, however, plays dumb and raises a brow. Her legs finally close up, and she lays motionless on the bed with her hand still cradling your head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Monica, dear, I know you two have become a little more buddy-buddy lately,” Mom states with an as-a-matter-of-fact kind of tone. “My little girl looks at you the way she won’t ever look at me. Maybe she hasn’t learned to hate you yet.”

Monica frowns. “Mamita…”

Despite her pressing words, Mom does not stop smiling. “No need to be so worried. You are part of our little underground family, aren’t you? I have no reason to be so suspicious of or against you anymore.”

Monica gives a fairly surprised expression, but says nothing. Mom simply closes her eyes and continues on. “When I called you my friend, Monica, I wasn’t joking. I do think of you as something a little close to me now that we’ve gotten to spend so much time together. It’s frankly been quite a while since I’ve had anyone in my life like you. A woman like you. I am a greedy little thing at times, I admit. I wasn’t quite so happy to have you on board here for many reasons. But while I can be a little vicious, I can be kind, too. I can see you trying to make me happy. So thank you.”

Monica continues to watch Mom with a stunned look. “Mamita, are you okay?”

Mom’s eyes open, her green gaze meeting you both on the bed. “I hope so. In any case, I don’t know what it is you two enjoy about each other’s company, but as long as it doesn’t interfere with anything I’m doing or hurt my dear Yosuke, you have my blessing. Speaking of, it’s Yosuke you have to worry about. He’s not so willing to share, you know.”

Leaving you two stunned on the bed, Mom turns away to go gather her clothes and redress. She heaves a rather airy sigh, setting aside the suddenly worrisome conversation to keep going as if nothing important was said. “If only I got to do more. I should have sped things up, but I’m quite happy watching you get flustered, Ten. I must repeat, you were a good girl for me today. I hope you’ll keep that up. I love good girl behavior.”

Once she buttons her blouse, she turns her head enough to catch you from the corner of her eye.

“Do be honest—are you enjoying the attention now?”

“I don’t know, Mom” you mutter, still avoiding her gaze. “It doesn’t mean I like it, but maybe pleasure is better than suffering. Sometimes.”

“Yes, it is,” Mom does not disagree. She sounds unusually sincere. “So you both understand that too?”

“Mamita…” Monica sits up, letting you move back on the bed yourself beside her. You turn away from her and Mom both, curling up on the sheets and avoiding them.

“No, don’t get up,” Mom laughs, finally committing to turning around. “Please, you two are so cute. Have a little more fun, Monica. It’ll calm the nerves.”

“But Mamita, I’m a little worried about you now.”

Mom steps over to her partner. You hear the rubbing of flesh, and assume she’s started to run a hand down Monica’s cheek or under her chin. “You’re a worrywart, I know. No need for that. Mommy can handle herself. Let me fuss over you just a little instead, mm?”

Monica stammers in her flustered state. “Y-you should take care of yourself too!”

“I always do. I’m more resilient than you might believe, as I’m sure you are.” Mom leaves the woman with a small, but audible kiss. “Anyway, I’d like to think you’re smarter than people take you for, so don’t get yourself in trouble, now. I went through all this effort getting myself to like you. I’d hate to lose you so suddenly.”

Once she leaves a stunned Monica’s side, Mom instead comes around the bed to yours. She refuses to let you hide away, but oddly does not mess with you quite as badly as she has before. Instead, she kneels down to get to your level, reaches her hand over, and begins to pet your head. In your desire not to meet her eyes, you avert your own.

“My sweet girl,” she coos. “Don’t be so frightened of me. I’m not a little tattletale, you know. Not unless I really have to be. Besides, I only wanted to make you feel good after seeing you so sad. Mommy will take care of you, alright? You know she loves you, don’t you?”

“I know, Mom,” you mutter unenthusiastically. You can’t fathom what her game is here. Or is she even playing one?

This interaction is leaving you nervous and confused all at once. But Mom continues to treat you so sweetly and act so coy that reading her is a bit hard. Does she know the things you and Monica have discussed? Does she even care?

All she wants is to play with you and win Yosuke’s approval. Perhaps being kind to you is one way to do it, but you don’t put it past a woman like Mom to decide to switch gears at a moment’s notice if she so chooses. If she learns anything about you that could get you in trouble, she could choose to turn you in to The Overseer or his lackey if she felt like doing it. Her close affiliation to them, and the tarnishing of her reputation with everything she’s done to hurt you, makes you unwilling to trust her fully.

But no, she couldn’t know anything. She’s just baiting you. Is that why you refuse to look at her?

Mom stays quiet for a moment, watching to see if you’ll react any other way. When you don’t, she gives up her little teases and finally begins to leave the room. Before exiting, she pauses and turns to you both.

With a finger coming close to her lips, she gives a polite smile. “I can buy you a bit of extra time if you like, but not very much. Perhaps I’ll catch Yosuke in the hall for another little chat before he comes to get you. But don’t dally. He’s quite persistent. But of course, I don’t have to tell you that twice, Ten.”

You don’t bother addressing her anymore, but she doesn’t seem to mind it this time. She knows you’ve heard her.

With that, Mom leaves you with Monica at your side. Once Mom’s gone, she leans quietly on her elbows, pressed against her closed thighs. Neither of you really speaks at first, until you ask her,

“Do you really want to keep going?”

Monica gives a weary laugh. “We don’t have to.”

The tenderness you knew from before the visit has returned. Her voice is gentler now.

“I could do more with my lower body, but my breasts are getting a little sore. We’ve been at it for a while. And frankly, I’d been massaging them before you showed up. It’s much easier for me to produce milk on demand since I’ve done this so often, but I still need stimulation to do it.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You finally turn on your back, but don’t bother to sit up just yet. Monica reaches a hand back for her glasses and reaffixes them to her face, as if nothing had just happened.

“No, it’s alright,” she says with a tender smile. “Thank you for thinking of me. Although, I wish this were a happier occasion. I guess we’re really not fooling anyone.”

“Were we trying to? I figured we were just playing pretend in front of him,” you mumble, staring off at the ceiling. “But if Mom and Yosuke can guess we’re just communicating, then evidently he would know too. Yet he’s done nothing.”

“Maybe he knows I’m too afraid of him to act out,” Monica sighs. “I won’t say he’s given up on keeping an eye on us, though. The thought of what he might do if he caught us talking like this…I’m squeamish thinking about it.”

You look toward her. “Jonathan’s afraid too. I visited him and Nathaniel the other day, and when I was falling asleep, they talked a bit about that. And other stuff. I think…”

You try to remember the conversation fully, but it’s an effortful task since you’d been drugged and were fading away. But after a moment’s contemplation, you recall it. Unfortunately, you might have to break Nathaniel’s trust in you by telling Monica about it. But you figure Monica will keep quiet.

“Nathaniel said something about kids,” you tell her, grabbing Monica’s attention. She raises a brow, but lets you keep talking. “About pregnant girls and what happens to them. He didn’t mean to, but I think he implied that some of them actually end up having the kids, just not a lot of them. Do you know anything about that?”

“I…” Monica seems to struggle finding an answer. She looks away and thinks for a moment, brows scrunched up. “I wasn’t told anything like that. I haven’t been here long enough to really deal with a pregnancy myself, either. I’m capable of dealing with it, but I haven’t had much an opportunity to do my job beyond caring for you and dealing with the office.

“My boss has said he’s capable of being merciful. I can only hope that not actively trying to sabotage him keeps him from hurting me. Or at least hurting me too bad. But really, he has no real use for me except maybe to observe me. Or maybe I pissed him off before I came here. I can’t imagine what I might have done.”

After a while of staying flat on the bed, you sit up. “Maybe you talked.”

“Well, I know I’m a little gossipy, but I’m not the type to blab big secrets without a reason,” Monica refutes this idea. You frown, however, and turn your head away from her.

“Then why did you tell Nathaniel about me? Why does he know I can get pregnant now?”

Monica then sighs. “Right, I guess that would have come up. I didn’t mean to, please believe me. I was trying to ask him for his advice on what to do in that situation and what would happen. It was hypothetical, and I was trying to make it sound like I wanted to know the procedure for cases like that if I was to do my job and take over, rather than him. But he’s a smart man and he figured out what I was really referring to, and about whom. It’s hard to step around you like that when you’re quite popular. He ended up asking me outright, and I froze a bit. I didn’t really even have to say it at that point.”

“I guess he’s not untrustworthy,” you figure with an ample shrug of your shoulders. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself this just to feel better about it. “He’s had his own little secrets, apparently. He’s done things for other people too, so he says. I guess me included.”

Monica looks at you a moment, brown eyes full of sympathy. Her hand reaches for yours, cupping at its back gently. Perhaps it’s the way you’re speaking, the tone you’re using, or the utter defeat in your body language, but she’s become concerned, you think.

“I wish I could help, but I can’t predict if I’ll take care of you if you do end up pregnant,” she remarks unhappily. “I know you’re scared about it. I understand why. But, like everything, it all depends on my boss.”

You scowl. “He might not want us to be together. Or else he’ll have someone oversee the procedure. What is it, anyway?”

“An abortion. No procedure of any kind is as easy as it sounds, though the idea of it is simple,” answers Monica. “You may not think of it as a good thing, but you’re lucky to have it so widely available here. The real world is unfortunately much more complex.”

She looks disheartened, but you don’t really pester her about why. Surely there’s a lot about the real world that’s not as great as you’d hope. There are always men like the doctors here. There are always terrible people and situations. But you’d rather not live in misery here, even if it means embracing some of those awful things. It’s certainly no luxury, but having a handle on your own life would be nice.

“Regardless, we know what we’re doing, and I’m inclined to think both Nathaniel and I are caring and patient. Of course we would both take care of you and take your emotional state into account.”

You frown. “Nathaniel said I might not be awake for it anyway. I don’t doubt it, but I’m sure at some point, I’ll be conscious. Before or after. You and I being together would be detrimental, especially if your boss has no intentions of wiping my memory a second time. He wouldn’t want you around to say anything.”

You suppose these are just rambles. Judging by Monica’s worried expression, you must be coming across as anxious. There’s not much she can do about it all, so you try to shift topics.

“Anyway, about the kids…do you think he has any here?”

“I couldn’t tell you a thing about that,” says Monica. Her voice seems strained. Is she upset? “But I don’t know if it’s impossible. I said before there’s places I can’t go because they’re locked off to me. So anything’s possible. It could be where workers are, it could be where other sectors are.”

You watch her for a moment, until finally deciding to comment on her response.

“You sound hurt.”

Monica releases your hand and brings it back to her lap. “The idea of there being children here is awful to think about. I know you might think it hypocritical to care when it seems I don’t care about you, but that’s just it: you’re not children. You can think for yourselves and handle hard things much better than a child ever could. A child is innocent.”

“And we’re not?” You shake your head in disbelief.

“I didn’t say that. I’m not implying that you being here is deserved or good in any way.”

“How do you even know we’re not children ourselves? I know we’re not toddlers or little kids since we don’t look that small, but we could still be young. You would know that if you work at the office, right?”

“Yes,” Monica nods understandably. “I can assure you that none of you are children. But-“

“But?”

Monica grimaces a bit at her own words, but doesn’t hide the fact away. “Yes, I know that’s not what you want to hear. The thing is, while you’re not necessarily ‘children’, some of you may have been considered that when you came. Not much younger, just a bit younger than now.”

You freeze, and ball your hands up.

“So, Cyrus…” You trail off, voice almost crackling. You don’t even care that you’ve said his name, and Monica doesn’t appear to say a thing about it.

“Years?” Your voice almost sounds like a whisper

“Yes.” Monica hesitates to answer this, but does. “Not as many as you might be thinking. But yes, years. I don’t doubt that the impressiveness of his survival here is why he continues to live.”

You figured this was the case before when he spoke of his previous appearance and compared what he remembered looking like to how he looks now, but you didn’t want to accept that was true. Now you’re being told point blank it is, and you don’t know how to take it. And, certainly, he wouldn’t either. But if the twins are right behind him, then they’ve been here nearly as long too. What a horrible, horrible thing.

You sit with a quickened heartbeat, mouth agape as you swallow this information, and Monica simply rubs your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“My boss does seem the type to care for his research first,” she admits. “He is not completely inhuman or animalistic. Not a brute or some giddy sadist. But he is frightening nonetheless, and his capabilities are many with the connections he supposedly has. I don’t want to imagine there being children here, but if there were…”

She shuts her eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I would never want them to be hurt. If I had to see one suffering here, my heart would hurt even more than it already does for you.”

Your heart, dear? Or your head?

You become frustrated hearing Yosuke’s voice again. The dream came up like vomit, but now you can’t avoid thinking of it.

But that only makes you wonder…

“Monica?”

The doctor’s eyes open, and she acknowledges you with a side glance.

“You said you were good with ki-“

“Please don’t,” she cuts you off. “I don’t want to think about it. I-I can’t imagine I’d ever…”

She stops herself and brings a hand to her mouth as if the idea was so harrowing that she felt physically ill. Seeing her upset like this only leaves your heart sinking too. You decide not to ask her such an explicit thing, but do still try to mull it over with her.

“I know you could just have been brought here before to deal with pregnant girls,” you acknowledge. “I know it’s what you know how to do, so maybe you did it before and aren’t in charge of doing it now that your boss’ motivations for keeping you around aren’t what they probably once were. But don’t you find that odd? All this talk of…you know. And all your gaps in your memory. All the things you’ve told me.”

Monica shakes her head, but doesn’t respond. You suppose it’s understandable wanting to deny something like this. Monica’s sensitive. Admittedly, like you. She can’t bear such a tragic thought. Even you can’t really fully accept it. But if the idea brings you closer to the truth, it’s worth exploring.

“Does it hurt your head to remember anything like that?” You ask. “When I try to remember things, I get that weird staticy feeling.”

“I get headaches and fatigue,” Monica replies quietly. “But I mainly only get them when I strain myself too much. When I learned what I did and realized there were gaps in my memory, I tried hard to remember what I lost. So hard that it hurt me. But like you, I remembered nothing.”

You bite your lip. “Nothing?”

“I could try all day, Ten. It wouldn’t make a difference. And I certainly don’t think trying to remember myself taking care of children will do anything. Nor do I want to think about that. Do you understand why it hurts?”

“I don’t know anything, Monica. I don’t even know if I had hobbies!” You bite back, but immediately regret it and apologize. “I’m sorry, but I’m hurting too. All my friends, you, and me are all hurting. Just in different ways.”

Monica goes quiet for a moment, staring off at the end of the bed mindlessly. She smiles, strangely. Perhaps as a means to get herself to stop feeling so negatively. Is it self-trickery? You aren’t inclined to believe forcing a smile for so long would make you believe it was genuine, but perhaps that works for her.

“You aren’t the only one to struggle with your memory,” she says quietly. “I’ve heard only rumors and eavesdropped on a few conversations, but the people who came before you all struggled with their memories now and then too. Some apparently did remember something, and it got them in trouble. For others, only hints of who they used to be shone through. It seems that recalled memories lessened the more people came, and the more my boss’s drug changed. Sometimes qualities of one’s previous self still surfaced, and I hear that’s still the case even with your group. I wish I knew more. Both about the previous groups, and about yours. Realistically, people take for granted the rather normal lives they live, but to me, you all seemed like such interesting people.”

“And me?” You can’t help but get a little antsy. “Who was I?”

Monica frowns. “I don’t know. I don’t have access to parts of your file. I assume that’s with him. I think only Mamita has looked it over fully.”

“Why?!” You’re disappointed. Aggressively so.

“I don’t know that either, but we don’t keep your files all together all the time. There are parts of it we have to separate that get updated. Why yours or others’ documents are withheld I don’t know.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t even know where my file is. I know he must have one if my memory has been tampered with. And, if Mamita has a hand in examining patients before they’re sent off for their procedures, then she must know about me too.

You’re taken aback. “That’s what she does?”

“Yes. She said she used to more often, anyway, before training Micah.” answers Monica. “There are things she still has to oversee and check his work on, but it’s a lot of studying you, a lot of understanding your bodies inside and out for various things ranging from understanding how you might react to a drug, to just knowing your body size for clothing. She’s supposedly not so bad at work relating to chemistry herself, which is why she often has to help Micah, since he only knows the ‘easier’ half of things. But that’s a part of her life and her studies she didn’t talk about with me. She has her secrets, as do I.”

Monica heaves a sigh. “That’s one of the worst parts of it all. Knowing that she probably knows who I am, and won’t say. She must know about my body, about my history. Something.”

You frown a bit. “Gale too.”

“Gale?” Monica looks stunned. “What do you mean?”

“I got to ask them a little about the facility and of the doctors, but only so much. After what happened between us when I was confined, I guess your boss decided to let them and me talk more openly. I ended up asking about you, because I didn’t know if what you were telling me during your first visit was the truth. They confirmed it was. So maybe they know too. If not about everything, at least a little bit.”

Monica’s hand comes to her cheek. Watching her face, she gives a struggling look, one melancholy as she thinks things over.

“I…I suppose it makes sense they’d know if I was already working here,” she figures. “But I don’t see Gale as malicious. Not intentionally. Do you trust them?”

“Somewhat. They’re open like you, but they’re more careful. I see them as more willing to listen to their boss. Still, I think you’re right. Maybe Mom’s the one who knows the most about it all.”

This disheartens Monica more. “Yet she called me a friend. I don’t know what to believe. I can’t always read her, yet lately, it seems like I’ve been the only one trying to. I feel like I’m always just bowing my head for her, yet she turns around and says that. I shouldn’t take it seriously, yet…”

“Do you actually care about her?”

Monica smiles slightly, and nods. “I do. I can’t bring myself to hate people so easily. Be wary of them, yes. But not hate. Not usually. I just wish Mamita wasn’t so hellbent on being in charge of things. But maybe that’s the only form of control she has given all she’s endured here. She’s sick. Anyone can see that. And it likely embarrasses her to know that people know she’s so sick. It’s why she hates dwelling in the past. It hurts to be reminded how far she’s fallen.”

You huff. “I’d argue all of the others are pretty sick in their own way too.”

“Maybe so.” Monica strangely doesn’t argue that. “In any case, I’m just trying my best while navigating this place and all the things I’m learning. I guess we’re no different in that regard—I’m learning like you are. And my Number keeps my fascinations in check by being an outlet for me. I wish it weren’t the case that I loved the feeling of touching and being touched, but I do. I love the company.”

This makes you scrunch your brows a bit. “Do you at least try to be kind to him too?”

“I do!” Monica nods and tries to smile again. “I gave him his little scissors and am lenient with him, I let him be on his own when he wants to be. I’m only ever overbearing now and then, but I do love being around him. He’s a sweet boy. But he is a little weirded out by me and my fascinations despite finding it easy to do what I want. I suspect he actually isn’t very fond of women. Or else, not women like me.”

You look away. “That’s not something that’s your business, is it?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monica sheepishly apologizes. “It isn’t, but I can’t help but observe these things. I guess it’s a habit. I’ve also dated men before who turned out to be gay, so I guess I can’t help but think back to that sometimes.”

“We’re not in your old life,” you remark unhappily. “We’re in some godforsaken facility being tortured because of one man’s medical fascinations. Have you forgotten?”

Monica then sighs, her feigned good mood dissipating. “Yes, Ten. I am fully aware. Please don’t be that way. I’m stressed too, even if it’s in a slightly different way. I just kind of try not to be.”

“I guess it’s no different than what others do to keep afloat,” you mumble. “I’ve been struggling so much lately. And with everyone trying to keep me docile and my options getting thinner, it’s getting harder to find a good outlet.”

This intrigues Monica. “What have you been dealing with lately? Other than Lilah, I mean.”

“I think the better question is what haven’t I?” You scoff. “Yosuke used to be the only problem I had. Now everything and everyone is out to get me. Maybe some of it is my fault, but some of it isn’t.”

“Is it Lucius?”

You glower. “It’s him and your boss, it’s Milos, it’s Lilah, it’s all the other doctors, it’s my memory. But lately, my memory has been a difficult one. Physical pain is horrible and scary, but I’ve been able to heal from it. Memories are something that either scars me, or that I can’t recover. The pain of not knowing about who I was just continues to hurt me more and more. I’m hearing voices, I’m seeing places I feel like I should know. I’m being teased with things I can’t grasp. I keep falling out of touch with myself. I don’t know me half the time. I feel trapped.”

“I’m sorry,” Monica expresses a brief sympathy, likely because she has no idea what else to say. “What memory issues have you been having?”

“I keep seeing this garden, hearing this voice of a woman I don’t know. That’s really it. But it just keeps happening. Ever since I tried to remember something about my past, I’ve been encountering fragments of things that I’m sure are of my previous life, but I remember nothing. They’re not familiar, and they don’t teach me anything.

“I feel haunted by my past now, only because it keeps taunting me. Lucius hasn’t helped it either. His boss is watching me like a hawk to see how I respond, but Lucius is only making it worse on purpose. He vaguely told me who that woman was, but not who she was to me. And then, on top of it all, Yosuke keeps trying to keep me from remembering anything at all because he wants me to stay here. The only times he’s roused some reaction out of me is when his boss orders him to in order to get my reaction. It’s too much.”

You shake your head and fold your arms. “I don’t want this pain any more than anyone else does. It’s not an easy thing to deal with. But you’ve obviously got your own memory burdens. You’re even closer to your own truth than I am since you’re working alongside the same people who are responsible for what you’re going through. You’re close to places and you probably knew, but you can’t remember either.”

“Well, while our situations are different, it’s nice to have such burdens in common with someone,” Monica responds softly. “I know you wish it wasn’t a doctor, and one of your friends instead, but I guess we can’t always choose who we meet or talk to.”

“I guess not,” you don’t disagree. “Anyway, have you ever tried to force a memory? Like, really hard?”

Monica shakes her head. “I’d be hesitant to try. Taking risks isn’t something I do. Not since I was young, I don’t think.”

“How was that?”

“I was a bit feisty at times,” Monica laughs thinking about it. “I’ve been in a few fights, had a lot of drunken escapades, partied now and then. I guess I mellowed out a lot at some point, for some reason. And, on top of that, I didn’t think being a doctor was something I’d go for. Frankly, I struggled in grade school because I didn’t want to do the work, even if I could. No doubt some of the others didn’t think they’d follow the path they did either.”

You remain displeased by the thought. “Or that they’d end up at a place like this. I feel like some of the others could have done much better. But maybe the capacity to be terrible was always there. My doctor mentioned being pretty normal once, then a high-strung workaholic, and now this. Something must have gone wrong.”

Monica gives you a quiet look of sympathy, though you wish not to remain on the topic of your doctor.

“So…what about other things in your memory?”

“Like?” Monica cocks her head.

You shrug. “I dunno. The workers seem to know you. And then my friend said he thought you seemed familiar when that shouldn’t be the case. You don’t have any idea about that, do you?”

“None,” answers Monica with a frown. “I have thought about it, though. I admit, it is strange that I knew some of the nurses. But a few of them have been replaced recently, so I don’t know them all anymore. The ones I’ve gotten to know, however, are rather nice young ladies. I don’t know what they look like because I never see them out of uniform, but the way they carry themselves and respond to me is so polite. And every one of them is unique. The workers as well, but I rarely meet with them.”

She then gives a little sigh. “Maybe I really did know some of the nurses before. More intimately. If I was so desperate for company back then like I was when I first came to this sector, I don’t doubt I’d have clung to them too.”

“And the other Numbers?”

Monica’s face tenses as she tries to think about it. She gives off an air of hesitance, lips moving slightly but not committing until she finally finds her words.

“I said I don’t want to think about it, but if for any reason I ever did have anything to do with children or some other thing like it explicitly, I would likely never have seen your group. My boss usually keeps people in their own places. I’ve heard some doctors were once allowed to go between sectors for things like visits, but that’s not the case anymore.”

“Are the other doctors not allowed into certain areas like you’re not?” You ask. Monica shakes her head.

“I don’t know. I’m still new here even if I’ve adjusted for the most part. But there’s obviously a lot I’m going to be in the dark about like you because of my situation.”

She then turns her palms up in her lap and examines them. “I just don’t understand why it was me, of all people.”

You lean forward on your elbows. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to sound like a braggart or anything,” Monica explains, “but I’d like to think I’m not the most evil person here. I feel like I have some moral objections that others brush off more easily. Maybe it’s time that’s changed them and will change me too. What you said a while ago did strike me, and I do want to avoid falling into things quite like the others. But still, I can’t imagine just why my boss ever brought me here if I am the kind of person I am. Why would I ever have said yes to being here?”

You sit quietly and ponder this for a moment. It’s a strange thing to imagine—The Overseer has always chosen people who either had the capacity to be cruel already, or who had a need or desire to fulfill. If the doctors you know reflect anything about the real world, then their behavior shows you that money, power, sex, and stability are all things many people care about. It’s not something you can really understand yourself, as someone whose only relationship with power has been negative. Money you have no use for. Sex is something that’s been so corrupted for you that, if not for the people you’ve come to love and explore yourself with, you might never want to have it again.

You wonder, was Monica poor? Was she struggling emotionally? She seems like she came from a well enough off family to not have much of a resource issue. It’s hard to place what brought her here.

The only other thing you can think of is that, like Gale, she was sought out, or perhaps taken. But even that feels a little bit nonsensical. She has skills, yes. But others could easily have the same skills and be much easier to sway. There must have been many more corrupt people in the world that The Overseer could have taken instead of Monica. It makes so little sense. Was she connected to him in any way? If so, it would be in a negative way, because he wouldn’t be treating her like this if it were positive.

Maybe you should slow down. Monica doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be connected to a man like The Overseer. And she hasn’t mentioned really knowing him in her younger days, so she must only have met him as an adult.

Overall, it’s too difficult a thing to piece together. In the end, you just draw blank beyond the first few ideas. Your answer to Monica, then, is only a mild guess.

“Maybe you didn’t agree to,” you say. “The way he treats you shows he doesn’t really favor you, and is just using you. So maybe he used you back then too.”

Monica’s maroonish lips press together tightly as she assesses this idea in her head, but she does not refuse it like she had the idea of dealing with children.

“Maybe,” she responds almost in a hushed tone. “I don’t know what I did to him to deserve this.”

You look down at the bed. “Maybe it was circumstance. It seems to be the case with me too, but I don’t know what that circumstance is.”

Monica gives a rather puzzled look. “I certainly hope you didn’t know that man.”

“I doubt I knew him anymore than you did,” you refuse the idea. “But that woman whose voice I hear, Dahlia, she knew him. She knew both of them. She must have. And I figure the only reason they found me was because of her.”

“You think so?” You notice Monica expresses no understanding of the name Dahlia. You’re a bit disappointed that she might not have a connection to her that you could get information out of, but are also not surprised. Somehow.

“I know so,” you suddenly become sure of it. “Or maybe I just want to have control over something so bad that I’m telling myself I know. Either way, Lucius seems to hate her. Your boss didn’t like that she was mentioned, but he didn’t seem as aggressive about her so much as just being reminded of her.”

“And how did you find all that out?”

“I heard them in my sleep,” you admit. “I sometimes don’t fully fall asleep with the anesthetic like I should. Lucius tends to get annoyed about it. Mom commented on it a long time ago too. I guess if she has any kind of experience with drugs, that makes sense. Is that, um, biomedicine?”

“Do you know what that is?” Monica seems surprised, until you shake your head.

“Yosuke mentioned that a lot of people are into that here. He mentioned another thing too beyond statistics or chemistry. I think it was…permocology?”

“Pharmacology,” Monica corrects with a subtle laugh. “There are wide arrays of medical fields. It’s a bit overwhelming if you’re not prepared for or are new to it. Anyway, like I said, I only know so much, and that includes about some of the other doctors. Mamita’s work is still something I know little about beyond what she’s told me as it is.”

You suppose it’s pointless to peck further about others, then. Tired of hunching over on the bed, you lay back down again and close your eyes. Monica stays where she is, but turns her head to see you better.

“Would you really stay here for these people?” You question her. Such an inquiry only draws a long silence from the woman, enough for you to open your eyes and check on her. Monica’s face is blank, but her stare is elsewhere. “Monica?”

“I shouldn’t,” she finally says when she has to acknowledge you. “I know I shouldn’t. I’m conflicted because I am finding peace with a few people here. I’m finally starting to settle in and not feel antagonized every day. But I know being here isn’t a good thing.”

“Are you taking Mom’s words seriously?” You ask. Monica shrugs.

“Well, maybe her words did have some truth to them. The way she looks at me and talks to me is a little different than she used to. But while I wish I could say I want her approval and to stay with her, I can’t afford to forever, and I know her affection is a bit twisted even if there is something there.

“But that’s the thing— I know I shouldn’t fall into line quite the same way as everyone else. I know I shouldn’t try to be like them. But you don’t understand just how afraid I am of being killed for trying to do anything too risky. It’s why I don’t raise too much hell around here. I don’t have the same protection other people do. My luxuries are limited.”

“But do you ever just, you know…want it?” You continue to peck at the idea. “Freedom from all that fear?”

Monica frowns. “Ten, where is this coming from?”

You look away. “That new guy really did a number on my thoughts. He seems hellbent on getting out of here. He isn’t the first person I’ve seen try, but I’ve never gotten this close to see someone try and try and try even when they know they’re beat. But while I’m really scared of him and annoyed at him for being the way he is, I’m inclined to think he has a point. He just makes it across in the worst way.”

“It’s in your best interest not to be as reckless as him.” Monica rebuts with disapproval. “You saw Lucius earlier—what happened could have ended in death. I don’t know what his intentions were, but you know what the consequences are. You can’t be blind to all the dangers here. They won’t let you go. And if you’re of any interest to them at all, they sure as hell won’t let you try.”

Your head turns toward Monica, brows upturned. Her words have stirred sudden terrible feelings in you. Frustration, mainly.

“What?” You push off the bed and sit up just a bit, enough to lean on your elbows and look at Monica more clearly. “Don’t you want to get out of here too? If you were able to help me, we’d have more of a chance. Doing it on our own-“

“Our?” Monica furrows her brows. “As in you and me? Or do you want me to help all of you escape?”

You shake your head. Why would she find the idea so wrong? Maybe she’s just panicking a little.

“I won’t just leave people behind!” You shoot back. “And now that I know there’s other people here too, I want them out of this place just as much as I want me and my friends out. Please. I know it’s far-fetched, but if we just-“

“Ten, stop.” Monica refuses to let you finish. Her usual kindness is replaced with anger, or perhaps the same frustration as you. While her tone and her refusal anger you, you try to remind yourself just why she’s snapping against it so quickly.

“I can’t,” Monica tells you more quietly, as if regretting her prior tone. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that for you. I want my freedom, and I want all of you to have yours too. But it’s too risky. And on that scale—we can’t do anything that big by ourselves.”

“You’re too scared.” You grumble, disheartened. Monica becomes offended.

“Of course I am! Aren’t you? You can’t sit there and tell me you aren’t.”

You bite your tongue. She’s right, but you couldn’t help the kneejerk frustration and the use of those words.

“I don’t want to die any more than you do,” Monica goes on. “You’re asking me to put myself at risk for you. Us just talking about it so casually like this is as dangerous as doing it. I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself right now.”

She wasn’t particularly harsh on you—the words just came from a fear that you can understand. But all of them feel as though they’ve struck you a heavy blow. Your heart sinks, your body goes cold. In your chest, a pressure wells that you try to contain, but struggle to. Rather than let Monica see you, you turn away from her and curl up on the bed.

“We’re just going to die here,” you croak, tears starting to spill out from your lashes. “I don’t want to live like this anymore. I’ve wanted to get away from this all so badly that I thought if there was even a chance…”

You can’t really bring yourself to finish the sentence, and trail off into more quiet sobs. Monica says little after this. Doesn’t even really touch you for comfort. She just sits there.

Maybe it was a selfish thing to ask of her. You shouldn’t have even brought it up. But apologies aren’t currently in your vocabulary while you’re sobbing over stress and an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness.

You thought you were stronger than this, but it seems you’ve once more been reduced to a puddle of tears. Things lately have been nothing short of stressful for you. You wish dearly for that to only be a special case like it once was—now it seems every day is riddled with turmoil. The only positive to be gathered is that you’re resilient and have overcome too much to just give up now. But for the moment, you just want to cry again.

Why so much lately, though? Perhaps just all the stress.

Monica eventually moves from the bed, but you care little what she’s doing as you try to get past this episode on your own. You hear quite a lot of shuffling and cloth, and then several steps around the room as Monica does whatever is it she’s doing. Eventually, though, you feel your tears start to subside and leave wet trails on your cheeks that begin drying. Only then does Monica come back to you.

When she’s in your sight, she’s clothed again. Cleaned and made up as if nothing had just occurred. She sits you up and guides you to the side of the bed, letting your legs hang over it so that your feet just barely touch the floor. Rather than stand above you, Monica gets on your level by kneeling down. You can see a tissue in her hands procured from elsewhere, but don’t do much as the kindly woman starts dabbing it on the corners of your eyes and anywhere on your face that still has wetness.

“If he sees you crying like this, he’ll hover over you a lot more.” Monica tries to smile for you and keep her mood light, but you feel nothing short of empty. “I’m sure you don’t want that. But, while I know Mamita wanted to distract you from the tears, it’s okay to cry now and then. I do it too sometimes. Did you know that?”

You shake your head tiredly, eyes settling on the floor as Monica tends to you. Your hands stay politely in your lap the whole time.

“Ten, I’m sorry,” Monica gives a murmur. Despite her smiling façade being ladened with tension, Monica still keeps it up for you. “Please understand. I’m limited on what I can do. The thought of leaving here is enticing, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I know you want to get out of here, and I wish I could help. But to deal with one person, let alone one whole group, or even more…that’s just a lot to swallow right now.”

When you don’t answer, she sighs, and continues.

“I’m afraid, like you. I said before there’s a gut feeling I have about not leaving or making a fuss, and that’s still true. It’s more intense than you know. I have an intense fear of him, and of being killed by him. I both do and don’t understand why.

“I keep thinking that, maybe once, I tried to go against him, and it went poorly. But I also don’t know if I’d still be alive now if that were the case. Or else he just confined me to this place as punishment. As of late, it’s an option I’ve considered. So I have many reasons to fear him as you do. He’s a frightening man. He and Lucius both.”

Monica assesses your face slightly above her in search of an answer, but becomes disheartened and lets her lips fall to a frown when you don’t give one. Rather than get frustrated, she brings a hand to your right forearm and gently grazes it.

“We need to stick together,” she says plainly. “The thought of leaving scares me, Ten. All of this is overwhelming to me as much as it is to you. Do you understand?”

You nod, but Monica does not appear gladdened by your quiet response. She pauses and watches you a moment longer while trying to comfort you with her touch, but after a while, she bites her lip nervously. Her hand drops from your arm and glides down to where your own are, in your lap. She curls her fingers around your hand, warmth enveloping it.

“Look, I need to think about a lot right now. I can’t do more than talk to you until I sort my thoughts out. Please just calm down. All you can do is just keep laying low where you can.”

“I know,” you mutter wearily, finally bothering to respond. Now that your mood has quieted just a little bit, you also finally give her the apology she needs. “I’m sorry.”

This takes Monica aback. “Don’t apologize. I know where you’re coming from.”

You keep your gaze averted, but Monica does try to smile warmly again. It’s a strained smile, you notice. No surprise that she’s on her toes now, though that only makes you feel even guiltier somehow.

“I-It’s alright,” she tries to be assuring, but stammers at first. “It’s alright to have these feelings. I know you’re an eager girl. You aren’t quite as physical as Twelve seems to be, but you are a fighter in other ways. You just need to pick your battles more carefully.”

Monica’s eyes close, but her strained smile does not falter. “I guess I need to learn how to fight myself. Sometimes I can stand my ground, but there’s risks I’m just not able to take. I will say though, that fighting is pointless if you aren’t fighting smart. So why don’t you sit on this? We need to approach this kind of subject practically and not get too antsy or expectant.”

You feel numb, and don’t respond. Seeing your beat expression, Monica squeezes your hand. “I can’t promise to move mountains, Ten. I am one woman with a disadvantage. I will try my best to help comfort and protect you where I can, but I can’t make so many promises, especially ones like that. Please don’t get overexcited, and don’t get hurt if I keep letting you down. I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s all so unrealistic. Do you understand that much?”

“I guess.” Finally, you let your eyes shift up to meet Monica’s. “Um, thanks for at least trying to humor me?”

Now that you see her face, you feel even more shame. What a terrible thing to ask of her.

Monica shakes her head. “I get where your concerns and desires are coming from, but we need to be practical. That’s all I want you to get from this.”

Despite wanting to protest, you succumb to her defeating words.

“…Alright.”

Things trail off from here, but neither of you have much else to say as you await Yosuke’s arrival. Monica lets you get dressed just to feel comfortable not being naked, and you take that chance even if you know you’ll be stripped again for a shower anyway.

You figure Mom really did hold him off for a bit, as he takes a good amount of time to really show up. When he enters the room, his face is quite exhausted. Whether that’s from work or having to entertain Mom, you’re not sure. But he spares no chance to approach you, examine your face and your body, and make sure you’re okay.

“We took care of her, don’t worry,” Monica laughs, returning to her usual chipper self. You’re surprised how well she saves face. She seemed to already have that skill, but likely her time with Mom helped it further. “Mamita was well behaved.”

“If it makes you feel better, she didn’t even do anything,” you mutter.

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing,” Monica blushes thinking about it. There she goes again, getting flustered. Maybe Mom’s rubbing off a lot more on her than you’d like. “She’s simply going to get her physical enjoyment out of one of her Numbers since she ran out of time.”

“Shall I consider that a personal development, or a kiss-up?” Yosuke questions rather unamusedly. “Either way, it seems she left you with quite a bit of time together. I certainly hope it was productive.”

His olive eyes watch you, but you don’t bother reciprocating his look. This, however, he doesn’t let sit. His hand grazes the top of your head and runs along your scalp with a gentle swipe.

“Dear, did you enjoy yourself? I’m surprised you’re dressed.”

Your arms wrap around each other. “Monica let me put my clothes back on until you got here.”

“Mm? And do you feel better?” Yosuke raises a brow.

“I’m okay.”

Monica smiles. “Ten, you don’t need to be so shy about what we did. Sorry, Yosuke, she’s still bashful about being intimate with others. But I guess you would know her better.”

Is she playing things up on purpose? It’s embarrassing, but you suppose it’s not a terrible idea. But Yosuke isn’t stupid. If Mom knows you and Monica intended to talk, Yosuke certainly does too. The attempt at playing things off is, at best, lukewarm.

“I certainly do,” Yosuke affirms dryly, hand still petting you. His assumption only upsets you further, but no words leave your mouth. “Thank you for taking care of her, and for keeping her mother satiated. I expected she might do something unwarranted, but it’s a pleasant surprise to hear she was quiet this time. She hasn’t been since her first visit with Ten.”

“Well, she did say she wanted to make a good impression,” Monica points out. “I think she really is trying for you. Maybe you ought to cut her some slack.”

Yosuke remains unamused. “I’m hardly convinced. I know her. If I decide to budge and accept it, she’ll go right back to her old habits in no time, as she always does. She’s infatuated with my girl, and with me. Strange, that. There are others here she could easily have clung to, since she’s had many relations.”

“Maybe the fling was a little more than just a fling to her,” Monica supposes. “She really did enjoy her time with you. Plus, you are both near the same age, no? Easier to get along that way.”

Yosuke shakes his head. “I see she spares no expense gossiping. She made it apparent what our time together was. For her to go back on her rules and suddenly cling to me is so strange. I don’t feel like examining it anymore. I’ve other things to do. And other people to tend to.”

With that, he reaches down and carefully takes you in his arms. You lay limp against him, as he wants.

“Monica, do be careful around her,” he warns. “She’s had a poor track record with other women, so I hear.”

“Lilah’s a special case,” Monica refuses him. “You don’t understand what’s happened with her. I guess if you were never intending to go beyond a brief sexual relationship, that wouldn’t be something you’d care to learn about a woman like her. But we’re learning more about each other in this short time than you ever have in how long you’ve known her. Do you care?”

“Mm. Does she tell you everything?” Yosuke smiles politely. “I wager not.”

Monica’s hands tense up. “You know well there’s reasons she can’t. There’s a lot of secrecy in this place. I have only so much I can learn.”

“If that’s the case, I wonder why you’re still around.” Yosuke’s smile does not budge. “But far be it from me to question the intentions of my superior. It’s your intentions I question.”

Monica’s lips part, but she hesitates a moment before speaking. When she does find her words, her brown brows furrow slightly.

“I won’t hurt her, Yosuke,” she affirms. Yosuke simply gives a mild chuckle.

“I certainly hope not. I’m willing to put my faith in you knowing you’re a kind woman. My dearest Ten needs that tenderness from a woman like you. Her mother is no longer able to give it.”

He then steps forward, standing a head taller than Monica and looking down upon her. His eyes are focused, while Monica’s are wide as she becomes nervous beneath him.

“She is precious to me,” he says with a low but firm tone. “If you do anything to put her at risk-“

He pauses when he feels you tug at his shirt like a shy child. You curl up against his chest and cozy up to him like the pet he wants you to be.

“Please,” you beg. “I need to get cleaned off. Can we go?”

Despite his attempts at intimidating the woman, Yosuke gives you a tender smile, now ignoring her utterly. “Of course, my dear. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You’re sure he knows you’re just trying to quell the situation and distract him, but he wills himself to indulge in the façade if only because he enjoys watching you perform it. A small price to pay for getting him off Monica’s back.

She doesn’t necessarily let him forget her, though, and shakes her head.

“Don’t you worry about me, Yosuke,” she tells him. “I won’t let anyone hurt her. Anyone. Believe me when I say we both have her best interest in mind.”

“I’m glad,” Yosuke gives a polite smile. He doesn’t say much else, and finally backs down to tend to you.

Monica’s hands meet her hips, and she doesn’t relax until Yosuke finally starts to make his way out of the room. In the end, you’re left without a goodbye or anything more than a worried glance from Monica as she watches you get taken away.

Showering proves quiet at first—Yosuke says little as he rolls his sleeves up, then undresses and bathes you in warm water on the floor, so you don’t have to strain standing much. Granted, you hardly really have anything to say to him anyway. You keep your eyes to the floor most of the time, and you don’t fuss with him when he gestures for you to raise either of your arms or open your legs so he can clean you.

As he shuts the water off and moves to drying your limbs, he finally opts to speak.

“You still seem down.”

“Distraction doesn’t cure my sadness,” you mutter. “I’m just tired.”

Yosuke only lets out a quiet “hmm” in response, olive gaze focused on his task. When he’s done with your feet, however, he looks up at you point blank. His lips are still, expression blank and observant.

“Do you trust her?”

You return his glance, lips parted in surprise at the question. “Y-yes.”

“So blatantly?” Your doctor almost laughs as he proceeds to stand and hangs the towel wide over the shower door. “She’s still a doctor, yes?”

“Yes, but she’s kind to me.”

“Aren’t some of us as well?”

You glower. “She just wants to earn my trust because she doesn’t really seem to like being hated. I don’t like her enjoyment of sex and what she does for her fix, but she hasn’t done anything too bad to completely shake my willingness to accept her otherwise. Almost like Jonathan or Nathaniel. You trust them, don’t you?”

“They aren’t ditzy chatterboxes like that one,” your point is argued against rather bluntly. However, you stand your own ground too.

“Don’t be so judgemental. You know she’s capable of being gentle. You said you trust her on that much. And I’ve upset her before, but she’s never hurt me even then. She wouldn’t put me at risk for no reason. She cares about me.”

“Your mother seems to think Monica is trickier than she lets on,” Yosuke rebuts. He turns back to you and begins to pick you up off the floor. The water still on your body where he couldn’t dry rubs off on his clothes, but he hardly cares. “But she also has placed some level of trust in her too. I find it odd.”

“You talked to her?”

“The other way around, dear,” Yosuke corrects as he sits you on the bench by the entrance. There are supplies on it already, next to your clothes, which you figure are just to rebandage the wound you’re your stomach. “She was quite adamant about bugging me tonight. She’s needy. Perhaps I’m too polite sometimes to turn her down, even when I don’t want her company.”

Yosuke avoids blatantly drilling you about what Monica said to you tonight, likely because the area is monitored. When he switches to talking about Mom, you don’t hesitate to play along. Yosuke simply moves to do precisely what you figured, and redresses your wound.

“She called Monica a friend,” you remind him. “Monica said she knows how Mom is, but wasn’t sure she could say it wasn’t completely genuine.”

“I don’t much understand the way women work between each other,” Yosuke admits. “They’ve tended to be catty in my experience, even when they’re close. So I don’t put it past Monica to have a few tricks up her sleeve just as your mother does. In the latter’s case, I know how she is. She likes to play pretend because she’s so good at it. She’s lived her life pretending to be a good woman. Pretending to please others. Pretending to be what she doesn’t want to be just to get by. Even now, she pretends to like this place enough to believe it’s her home.

“For as little about her as I cared to learn, I now know more than I used to. Monica incorrectly assumed I was not so involved. I know for certain your mother has donned such pretend roles for family just so she could turn around and be a problem behind the scenes. She’s done it then, and she still does it now. Your mother is a tricky woman. She has always been. If she wants to pretend to like Monica, perhaps she has some ulterior motive in doing so. Or else she’s just playing around for her own enjoyment. She does love the attention she gets from whoever will give it. She’s needy, as I said.”

Now done with the wound, Yosuke then starts bringing the end of your open gown over your head and tugging its sleeves past your raised arms. For just a moment, he gets distracted at the passing glance of your chest before it’s covered again. “My, she did a number on you again.”

You refocus the topic to avoid the awkwardness of his observation. “I don’t want to believe Monica’s suspicion was wrong. I know Mom is like that—I know she’s a terrible person. But after Lilah, and after seeing her cry like that, maybe she really is itching to have a friend. She just has a twisted idea of what that’s like because it’s been a while since someone actually cared to listen to her.”

You can’t believe you’re defending it. You’re suspicious of Mom’s relation to Monica too, but for some reason, hearing Yosuke bash it so blatantly as if he knows for a fact it’s faulty is just annoying. What the hell would a man like him know about a woman’s feelings?

“Comradery is the word I’ve heard from you before,” you add. “I guess you wouldn’t get what it’s like between us any more than I’d understand how you men get along. The way I’ve heard some of you talk between each other has been nothing short of disgusting.”

“Oh?” Yosuke raises a brow.

“You talk to each other, bragging about your sexual escapades or casually chatting about the worst things. About us. Even about your coworkers. You’re pigs. Not like it matters to you. You don’t really have any friends here, do you?”

“Oh pet, I don’t really need them.” Yosuke dodges your attempts to strike a blow to his ego, smiling pleasantly all the while. “Casual acquaintances are all I’ve had for a while. I can get along fine with pretending to be involved in the lives of others where I need to be. In a way, like your mother. But unlike her, I usually reserve my time to myself, or else I dedicate it to very few people.”

He runs the back of his hand along your cheek. “And you are one of them.”

“Should I be flattered?” You stay still, but keep your eyes to the floor, brows scrunching up a bit.

Yosuke chuckles. “Shall I be a narcissist and say ‘of course’? My pet, you realize I’ve long since left my social days behind me. With time, I suppose I became something of a hermit. Work and stress only worsened that habit, but I’ve found joys in the quiet of solitude. It’s certainly helped since I have to be so alone a lot of the time working here.”

You become embittered and ball your hands up in your lap. “You say this like you weren’t beat down by losing me temporarily. You crawled back to a woman you claimed to hate just because you didn’t want to be alone. You’re just a really lonely man with a superiority complex. If you said you had friends before, you don’t now because you’ve let yourself become distant and awful. And you think controlling me is going to make all your hurt go away, because I’m the only thing you think you can control.”

“You again insist on pretending to be Gale.” Yosuke is unmoved, though he gives a bit of a frown. He grips your chin between his thumb and index finger, and tips it up forcefully for you to look at him. “You are stressed, after all. I suppose it’s to be expected you’d lash out somewhere. Understand that I only hurt at the prospect of losing you because I have dedicated my time and my love to you. How would you feel if your friends were plucked away so suddenly? You would be lonely. Miserable, just as I was.”

You bite your tongue, leaving Yosuke open to continuing.

“You yourself lack control. We have all seen how you seek it out so desperately. All you’re doing is projecting, my dear.”

He laughs again and dips his head down to plant a sweet kiss upon you. “But I’m glad. You still have that fire inside you. I’d be worried if it had been extinguished entirely. Your stubbornness, even if sometimes a touch troublesome, is precious.”

Your eyes shift away from him. You say nothing, and your doctor simply smirks seeing that he’s lorded over you successfully again. He drops his hand and instead reaches down to scoop you in his arms again.

“Come now, my pet. You’re becoming a touch fussy again over your frustrations. Sleep will do your troubled mind some good.”

You just give up with your doctor, going quiet as he takes you away. It’s only when the bedroom door shuts behind you and you are no longer bound to the watchful eyes of cameras that Yosuke finally asks,

“What precisely did she say?”

“Why did you threaten her?”

Yosuke laughs. “Caution. She is the kind to yield under pressure. I figure scaring her out of not speaking about unruly things is one approach I can take. Now don’t dodge the question, Ten.”

“We just talked about how we felt about this place,” you remain honest, if vague. You know he’ll keep pecking and playing his little mind games with you otherwise. “We’re both tired of being treated and seen so negatively. But we know neither of us can do a thing about it.”

“I see.” Yosuke finally lowers you on the bed, seating you within its center and wrapping the comforter over your legs and waist. “I suppose you enjoy the comfort venting to another woman brings. But a doctor? Given your track record, I find that strange. Your defense of her is even stronger now all of a sudden. You must be bonding together.”

You watch him with a daggered gaze as he steps to your desk and procures a bottle of water from it, likely placed there before he came for you. He does not hand it to you at first, not until he’s twisted the cap open himself. You find the gesture strange, especially since he hands you the bottle right after instead of making you drink from it himself.

“You didn’t have to threaten her like that. Monica said she wouldn’t hurt me,” you point out, then bring the bottle to your lips to drink from it. You only intended to take a few polite sips, but find once the liquid hits your tongue that you’re actually much thirstier after your visit than you thought. Plus, washing the taste of breastmilk out of your mouth is more than enticing. Yosuke strangely didn’t bother brushing your teeth this time. Maybe he was distracted.

You wind up drinking almost all of the water. Once done, you wipe your upper lip and let Yosuke take the bottle to twist it closed. “She was telling the truth. She’s made it clear to me that she has a heart, and only wants all of us to like her because your boss and Lucius treat her like shit. She’s just social. I’m not surprised an antisocial person like you doesn’t understand her.”

“You sing your praises so highly, pet,” Yosuke observes. “I am willing to put my faith in her not to hurt you physically or emotionally, but it’s her lack of caution and collateral damage I worry about. You realize my suspicion of her will never cease after what I heard before, don’t you?”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” you dryly assure him, almost grumbling the words. Such words feel bitter and unpleasant on your lips after being told by Monica that she won’t lift a finger to help you because she’s too afraid. You understand, but then this only stirs more regret in you—the hopeful feelings from the idea of escaping overtook everything, and you got a little bit too excited.

You didn’t mean to cause Monica to panic by stupidly jumping the gun. As it is, you were so distracted by your own feelings that you didn’t consider how badly your words about her role in the facility distressed her. No wonder she snapped at you.

You should have known leaving was only a fantasy. Others have tried to no avail, and it’s likely that anyone who has ever tried before those you’ve heard of or seen, have never ever made it close to the entrance. The Overseer is stubborn about keeping his work secret, and about keeping his prisoners in check. You especially are someone he won’t let get away when he’s found your reaction to Mnemosyne to be of interest. He will never let you out of his sight.

But neither will Yosuke.

You glimpse him smiling at your utterance.

“No, you’re not.” Standing by the side of your bed, he runs his hand along your head with gentle strokes. “You’re mine, aren’t you? Even if you wanted to leave, I don’t intend to let you go, my dearest.”

You grimace, but keep your head down and don’t fight the unwanted affection.

“Why me, anyway? Why did you choose to settle on me?”

Your doctor gives a polite laugh. “I didn’t expect it either. But when I saw you for the first time, I couldn’t help but find you alluring. Your soft face, your supple frame—it enticed me.”

Stop talking. To think of him having seen you unconscious before choosing you for himself, perhaps even nude on some cold exam table… You don’t want to hear him talk of you like this. It’s disgusting. Yet you figure being quiet and letting him go on will get him out of here sooner, so you bear it as you do many other things he says and does.

“I didn’t know a thing about you when I saw you for the first time—you were simply a beautiful stranger,” Yosuke goes on as if fondly reminiscing it. “I assumed you would be lovely and soft just by looks alone. A bit of a hopeful bias, I admit, but I suppose in the end I turned out to be right and wrong all at once. Even when I found out you were quite the stubborn girl when you opened your eyes and realized your situation, I found myself fascinated by you. Enticed.

“Perhaps your stubbornness made making you submit a fascinating challenge. You’ve always been so much fun to toy with. And yet, so much of my time with you has helped blossom affection for you that I never thought I’d feel. I’ve said it before, my pet—the reason that I do everything I do is because I love you so much.”

Finally, you can’t bear the frustration of his words any longer. Quietly, you mutter. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Yosuke only laughs. “Well, pet, you asked. But very well. I have to get going anyway.”

“No tricks, then?”

Yosuke’s hand drops from your hair and plants onto your shoulder. “Lonely, are you? Not tonight, darling. Soon I’ll have time. When that time comes, I’ll dedicate it all to you. I do miss your warmth and your sweet voice. And surely you miss my touch.”

He guides you to lay back on the bed, and brings your comforter to your chest with a careful hand. You avoid him, keeping your head turned away and staring blankly at the wall to your right. However, Yosuke does harass you further with another kiss, this time softly on the side of your head, before committing to leaving you alone.

“Goodnight, pet. I’ll see you again soon.”

You don’t respond, and instead turn over in your bed and curl up with the loose ends of the comforter. Before leaving, Yosuke gives a chuckle watching you turn, amused by the action.

You want to sleep, but find it hard to at first. Your thoughts stir again, between everything with Dahlia, all the fright about Twelve, and the worry about being caught talking too openly with Monica. You’re glad Yosuke didn’t pry quite as much as you thought he would, but you also know you’re hardly out of the woods—he’s only going to keep an eye on you both, same as The Overseer.

It’s also good nobody told him about what happened in the hall today. In the back of your mind, you thought maybe Mom would mention it just to get a rise out of Yosuke, since she seems so fascinated by his protective tendencies. Finds them endearing rather than sickening. But the fact that she didn’t cause any trouble and even kept her word is, to say the least, surprising.

As for her reaction to Monica, well, that’s a bit hard to place. You defended it in the end, but even now you still wonder if Yosuke was also right.

No, you don’t want to give that man any validation. He’s been wrong about a lot before. This could be no different. He’s assumptive. He thinks highly of himself, as if he knows everything. But even for as much as he knows Mom and her behaviors, there’s a lot even he doesn’t.

You huff and nuzzle against the pillow. Your frustration is limitless. Everything you learned today, everything you’ve been enduring, all of it just presses on your mind like a sharp nail that you can’t pull out. But for now, you just try hard to get some sleep. It’s good you weren’t touched unwillingly tonight, but you’re not looking forward to another session of cozying up to your doctor for sex just to get him off your back. It’ll come eventually, you’re aware.

Though that makes you realize—it’s becoming a little easier to just give into it. That’s worrying. You played along for Jonathan and Nathaniel, and did little to disobey Mom or fight against Monica even a little. Are you weaker? Or are you just tired? Maybe when you heal from Lilah and Lucius’ injuries, you’ll bounce back. You just want to be fully mobile again. And when you are, maybe you’ll go running with Cyrus or get some basketball games in or something. You said you wanted to before, and then didn’t, and then got hurt again. How long before your muscles and bones just shrivel up, anyway?

God.

After who knows how long a long while of restlessly tossing and turning without the luxury of sleep, your body finally gives up and decides to shut down like you have been begging it to do. Going to sleep angry is not your wish, but perhaps succumbing to slumber will alleviate your mood temporarily and let you reset tomorrow. So, you accept the wave of exhaustion and let it finally wash you away. Once you give in, you no longer feel anything anymore except empty.

Chapter 89: Rest Thirty Seven - Fraught

You don’t dream, or at least you don’t think you do. All you feel is enveloped in darkness for an unknown amount of time, just waiting for something to come. Somehow, you can feel yourself laying in it, but you just can’t wake up.

The black contrasts with all the brilliant whites of all the rooms you’ve been in, yet you’re no less frightened by it. The last time you were in a place this dark, you were so lost that you felt it impossible to recover. You remember the feeling of the flat bed, the clack of the metal chains as their links bumped against one another.

You don’t want to remember.

Anything—anything would be better than being in the dark right now. You’d willingly beg for a voice or an image or anything at all. At first, you try to peep out a plea for help, but find that opening your mouth is impossible. It’s as if you don’t have a body, yet do at the same time. You can’t open your eyes and look down because there are no eyelids or eyes, yet you feel the pressing weight of an invisible force upon you, meaning you must have a presence.

All you have for the longest time is your thoughts. You beg yourself to wake up, but never do. And when that fails, you call for anyone at all in your mind. At first, it’s for your friends. But as your desperation grows, you call for others: Gale, Monica, Dahlia. Even Yosuke.

Laying like this is agonizing, yet you somehow find yourself slipping away now and then without knowing whether or not you really are, or if time is passing. But whenever you come to some form of awareness, darkness is still all you see. It’s frustrating, but you keep going between awareness of it, and forgetting you’re there at all. Though you’re not sure whether it matters when there’s nothing to see anyway. There’s no presence to comfort you.

You never find yourself getting accustomed to the sensation or sight, or lack thereof. The moment you can grasp at anything to feel like you’re there, you cling to it, even when it’s as frightening as the dark.

After what feels like forever, you hear distant murmurs, but can’t place them. No words, no tone of voice, no clarity. Still, you cling to it, and you try everything to keep the murmurs from slipping away since they’re your only source of comfort and company right now. Despite fearing them at first after they came from nowhere in the dark, you find yourself attached to the voices after a time. Unfortunately, even they eventually slip away as you feared.

And then you wake.

You expected to snap awake or be scared by a sudden frightening image emerging from the dark, but that isn’t the case. You simply feel the weight from before transition into the grogginess you feel now.

Opening your eyes is hard to do, so you don’t. You just lay limp and motionless, like a ragdoll. But it’s uncanny, you find. Did you get drugged? Or were you just that tired after all? You don’t know why you feel this bad. Almost like you just got hit by a truck or something.

When you can accept that you’re awake and no longer in the same darkness as you were, save for the dark behind your closed eyelids, it dawns on you that your body is being carried. There’s a warmth at one side of your body, while the other is cold, aside from a spot on your back and under your knees.

You’re too tired to fully wake up, but you think you can gather your surroundings by touch just a little more now. You almost want to babble and utter your doctor’s name in question, but the moment you feel its first syllable weakly catch in your throat, you stop.

There are voices. While you expect to hear that they’re the ones you couldn’t discern before, you find that their tone is much different. The voices you heard are not the same as the ones you can hear now, if clearer.

“And what’s that on your neck, eh? You don’t wear your collar that high. Are you hiding something?”

You hear the brushing of skin against fabric, and then skin against skin. The latter is more forceful, as if something is being shoved away.

“Come on, don’t touch me.”

“Well, am I right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” The second voice sounds condescending and a tinge gruff, but not nearly as gruff as the first voice. In your daze, you struggle to attach the voices to a face or a name, though you know them for sure.

“Fooling around? I haven’t heard of you doing that in a while,” the first voice laughs. It’s a haunting laugh. You know it. You hate it. “With who, eh?”

The second voice sounds off, dismissive. “Don’t play coy, grandpa. You’re with her so much, you know who. I’m more surprised you’re not mad about it like my old keeper would be.”

Finally, you’re able to place who’s talking. Your exhausted heart drops a bit when you hear Milos’ voice speak again.

“My little Valentine is a free spirit, no? If she wants to play around with little boys, I won’t stop her.”

Micah scoffs. “Who the fuck are you calling-“

You suddenly hear the patting of a hand against fabric, and you can only assume Milos has interrupted Micah with a touch.

“I am only joking, my friend. Don’t think I care so much. Do you expect me to run after you with a gun like a father chasing a boy who came sniffing after his daughter?”

You want to grit your teeth hearing that, knowing now what you do.

“Don’t make it weird,” Micah says dryly, but Milos only laughs.

“Do you expect less from me? So, I assume you had a good time?”

Under his breath, Micah mutters. “He’s making it weird.”

“I’m frankly shocked she indulged you.” Yosuke’s voice suddenly rings out, but because you’re leaning against his chest, it’s amplified. You can feel the hum of his upper body as he sounds out each syllable. You’d dislike it, but right now, it’s a comfort. “She’s not exactly a ‘friendly’ woman.”

“Since when do you care about gossip, anyway?” Micah shoots back, voice a touch annoyed. Yosuke hardly takes offense, remaining polite in tone.

“You are only in my path,” he says. “I presume on purpose, right Milos?”

He gets no answer, and you only assume Milos is giving a smug look toward your displeasured doctor.

“In any case, Micah, I suggest you be careful with a woman like her.”

Micah makes a tsch noise as if amused by the idea of Yosuke caring to give him advice. “Oh yeah? You’re forgetting she’s not exactly your type. You may be a repressed fuck, but I’m not exactly the kind to sit back and observe. I’ve been around the block. No need to pretend you’re concerned.”

“Well, you are young. It’s expected that you’d thrill seek.”

“You’re not ambitious enough, is what I think.” Micah does not hold back. “Who do you think you’re talking to, my guy? Look at yourself.”

“Micah, I only felt I’d give you a warning,” is Yosuke’s calm response. “As someone who’s dealt with his own problems with an out-of-control woman, I mean. You understand. I would assume you all would.”

“Vanessa?” Micah questions. He sounds less frustrated and more curious, but immediately returns to his casually condescending tone. “I dunno, man, that was kinda your fault, wasn’t it? You shoulda known better.”

This time, Milos chimes in with another laugh. “Chisaka, you are naïve. Bit off more than you could chew with her. Not surprising with how inexperienced you were with those kinds of women, no?”

Yosuke goes quiet, only letting out a bit of a faint, tired sigh. Mom is one subject he really hates discussing so casually, you see. The only reason he’s open about it with you is—well, you’re not sure.

Odd to think both men are ragging on Yosuke when you know they both have had to deal with Mom before too. These people are so hypocritical that it’s insulting.

“Anyway, like I said, I have fucked around before,” Micah continues his spiel. “Won’t really get into it, but it’s like this—I can’t be in charge of everyone all the damn time. It’s exhausting.”

“Oh, you like to play games? What a contrary image to the one you tout,” Milos teases. Contrary to his reaction to Yosuke, Micah only chuckles lightly at his coworker’s words.

“I’ve played a lot of teams, big man. You’re old hat. Both of you are. You can’t stand being seen as anything more than some macho fucker or some bigshot who gets to be in charge all the time. And I mean, I can understand that. Prisoners are people you gotta be aggressive with so they don’t walk all over you. But I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve been around, alright?”

“Mm, is that why you were hiding those marks?” Yosuke teases. Micah huffs.

“I didn’t want to make it a big deal. If Vanessa sees these, she’s gonna drill me since she’s been down bad. But otherwise, I’d rather be upfront about what I’ve done than sit back and cry about the fuckers who might be laughing behind my back. Especially over what happened with Vanessa.”

“Don’t be shy Micah. Call her ‘mommy’.” You can hear the grin in Milos’ voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, you learn a lot playing both ways. I just prefer what I do now. That’s it. Why’s it gotta be a big deal with you people?”

Milos huffs a breath of laughter. “What you’re saying is if I cared to coax you into bending over for me, it would be easy?”

Micah is unmoved. “Oh good, that’s what I get for opening up to you. Dick. Anyway, Lilah wasn’t so bad. Got a few nasty nicks out of it. Had to remind her we weren’t here, though. She started getting a little more into it than was socially acceptable.”

“She is quite a beast at times,” Milos acknowledges this. “The women here are something.”

“What? Stick your dick in anyone else lately? Ballsy fucker, aren’t you?”

“Not lately. That saucy little secretary isn’t keen on giving me a chance. I suppose two out of three isn’t so bad.”

Micah laughs. “Jesus, you really keep hounding after women with bigger and bigger tits each time.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those. They’re damn big.” He gives a low, suggestive laugh, to your displeasure. He’s so comfortable being as awful as he is. Disgusting. “Ah, but what Lilah lacked in the chest, she made up elsewhere. Tell me, how was she? Not so bad in the sack, eh? Or did she even let you touch her?”

“You act like I don’t know her enough. We’ve talked before. A girl like her has damage, so what do you think?” Micah questions. “These lab rats are great for her anger problems, but not her libido. Girl’s not some cheap thrill, though, that’s for damn sure. That why you on her so much, you horn dog?”

Milos only finds this amusing. “Well, there’s more to it than that. But I won’t spoil it for you. If you want to get closer to her, perhaps she’ll indulge her worst secrets. But don’t hold your breath.”

Milos’ indoctrination of Lilah into such a filthy lifestyle so young is something not a lot of people really know about, it seems. You figure they might not treat him different even if they did know, given how awful everyone else is. But for him to speak of it so casually and like it’s no big deal is so heinous. How can a man like him even exist?

What makes your heart hurt is knowing that there are probably men like him in the real world, too. Your world here is small. Lilah is only one woman. It’s possible many more women like her exist, and have been swayed by men as evil as Milos in much the same way.

Lilah is a rotten person, but while you have no remorse for her, that single shred of pity for what Milos did to her is one you’ll give. You wouldn’t wish that on a person, no matter how horrible they are.

“Yeah, I’m not sure baggage is what I want out of this,” Micah interrupts your thoughts. “I used to see married broads all the time and they basically paid me to listen to their bullshit while giving them dick.”

Despite remaining silent for so long, Yosuke finally speaks again. “If you get closer to someone, you’ll find having to deal with the worst parts of them unavoidable. But if you really wind up close to them, you won’t find yourself so hesitant to listen sometimes.”

“I never said I was a romantic,” Micah brushes this off. “I’m not a total asshole to people I care about, but the amount of people I do is few. Right now, I don’t know where this is going. I just had a wild night with a girl, that’s all. Maybe I’ll be having another.”

Yosuke presses further. “Do you care about her?”

“Like that’s your fucking business,” Micah shoots back. “We’re just fucking around. Get it?”

Somehow, it doesn’t sound like Yosuke really believes that. He only chuckles, but does not respond. Milos is the one who does instead.

“Playing? Without my blessing?” His playful words irk you more, but leave Micah taken aback.

“The hell does that mean?”

“Nothing, of course,” Milos makes light of his prior question. “Do what you like, Micah. Break her heart even, if she still has one left. It doesn’t matter to me. Like you, I like to play around.”

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. You’re all fucking horrible.

“You’re quite the wicked one, Simanek,” Yosuke points out.

Don’t agree with me!!!

“Do you mean to tell me your obsession with your little pup isn’t also wicked, Chisaka?” Milos pecks without a second thought. “You’re standing here, pretending that you are so loving to her when you’re as cruel to her as we are. Don’t assume you’re better.”

“Hate to agree, but I do,” Micah adds. “That girl’s not gonna last forever, you know. Why get attached to a lab rat? She’s fun to fuck with, sure, but she’s not much of a person anymore with her head being so damn empty. Even if you want to, you can’t really save these guys once the boss decides he wants them. This place is a death sentence. Hell, even we were fucked the moment we agreed to give it a shot.”

Yosuke’s grip on you tightens, but the others don’t apparently notice.

“My reasons are my own,” he says bluntly. Rather than linger on the point, he attempts to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Shall I ask you about your attachments? Your knife, for instance?”

Micah grows annoyed. “Dude, shut up. Anyway, I’m out. I gotta go take care of a few things. Need to talk to the big man before he fucks off. Guy’s got a knack for disappearing when I need him.”

“Ah?” This piques Milos’ curiosity. “Let’s hope Lucius doesn’t catch you first, if he’s around. He’ll be much less polite about your position than I was.”

“Don’t remind me,” Micah grumbles. “He’s still laughing all the way to the bank about taking my shit. Flipped the thing in front of me last time we talked. Goddamn asshole. Guy’s got two guns, why the hell does he need a knife?!”

“Perhaps if you behave, he’ll return it to you sooner,” Yosuke teases. Micah, however, has none of it. His tone sharpens, voice raised.

“Oh yeah? Like the boss did with your Number? If I’m not mistaken, she was out for a good while even though you went back to being his fucking workdrone. I don’t put it past these assholes to be unfair. You weren’t here to see some of the worst of what they’ve done.”

“So I’ve been told” Yosuke gives an unsatisfied response, breath escaping his nose as he does so.

“Don’t piss me off, Yosuke,” Micah warns. “I’m not about to get in trouble for punching two dickheads. Seeya.”

Neither of the other men says a thing as Micah walks off, a trail of steps becoming distant in your ear. Only once he’s gone does Yosuke speak again, though he attempts to play off what you very well know struck him.

“I seem to have offended him.”

“Well, you’re hardly a conversationalist,” Milos chuckles. “Don’t be shocked you can’t get along well with the younger crowd.”

“And you can?”

“Ah, I was once like that, you know,” answers Milos without skipping a beat. “A bit out there and a troublemaker. I suppose even now one could call me that.”

“Troublemaker?” Yosuke scoffs in disbelief. “Is that all? Forgive me for being forward, but you’re as much of a beast as you claim Lilah is. You’ve always struck me as a man who thinks he can rule the world because he has a good fist on him. Of course, maybe that’s a compliment to you.”

The sound of a few short footsteps sounds in your ear, and again you hear the same patting noise against fabric that you had before.

“Ah, Yosuke. You really know so little about who I am. I can’t blame you for being so judgmental. Still, it’s a good thing we’re all adults here. Because if I’d have met you when I was as young as Micah…”

You almost want to shiver hearing Milos’ voice get closer to you suddenly. With how the light above your head is now blocked out by a large frame, you can only guess he’s hovering over Yosuke’s shoulder now.

“…I’d have beat you to shit.”

Though you’re rattled by these words, Yosuke holds his ground and does not budge.

“Your threats are just that,” he tells his coworker. “You know this goes nowhere. But don’t assume I’m so weak. I simply don’t fight like some mindless brute. Picking one’s battles is necessary. Maybe you’ve forgotten that.”

The light from before is no longer shielded as Milos retracts and stands straight. He hardly budges from his steadfast pecking either.

“Yes, adults often have to fight their battles with words rather than fists like schoolyard children. I have seen such children fight each other with fists over their differences, and then again fight with words as adults.”

“A fist has use. I won’t deny that. But words have more power than you realize.”

This leaves Milos chuckling again. “Well, like I said, Chisaka—you are hardly a conversationalist. Now, perhaps you’d better go take your little pup to her cage and get back to work. Like a good little workdrone.”

He does not give Yosuke a chance to answer, walking off the moment he’s done insulting your doctor and letting him stew in his words.

Yosuke hardly moves to take you away, nor does he say anything. You wind up laying against him in silence so long that you almost grow concerned. Usually, you are the one who is called out for waking up, but this time, you out yourself by shifting your head against his shirt and looking up toward his face.

With all the time you spent listening to the men converse, you had more time to wake up. Your grogginess has not ebbed, but you are at least able to lift the veil of darkness from your eyes and see the world around you.

Yosuke is only staring straight ahead, but when he feels you move, he looks down.

“How can you let them talk to you like that?” You ask, though your speech sounds a touch slurred.

Yosuke does not react for a moment, olive eyes focused on your face as he assesses you. After a brief pause, he musters a smile.

“I figured as much,” he comments about your awareness. “You have such a knack for eavesdropping, my dear.”

Your eyes slowly shift down again, but Yosuke eventually indulges your question.

“Their words only do so much,” he relays. “Are you worried about me? How darling.”

“No,” you mutter. “I know they’re harsh, but they’ve mostly just looked down on you from afar rather than directly.”

“I’ve learned not to care what people like that think of me,” answers your doctor. “But of course, it’s still frustrating when they insist on pecking at me like buzzards.”

You refuse the idea. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s used to belittlement.”

“I am, dear,” Yosuke corrects confidently. “I’ve mentioned good things about my younger days, but understand that, while nostalgic, they were not always quite so glamorous. Nothing positive about me in looks or achievements or connections protected me from being attacked by others. That’s the case in the real world.

“People who are full of hate or who find enjoyment in others’ misery often attack anyone who looks their way, no matter who it is. I have been tricked and mocked and ridiculed and berated before when I was young. Even by family.”

You’re taken aback, and again look up at him. “Family? Why?”

“For not performing well enough. For not trying hard enough. For not being enough.” Yosuke strangely does not hold this information back. Something about the way he’s saying this feels…honest. It’s unusually easy for him to speak of these things like nothing, but you also hear a tension in his words that makes it sound genuine.

Yosuke picks his head up and stares up and distantly down the hall as he recounts his experiences. You can’t know them intimately, but you can tell—his fondness is also tainted with disdain.

“I have learned many things. I have done many things. I don’t work hard to appease anyone now that I’m older because I’ve found peace in diligence rather than approval. But, like many, I have habits as a result of my experiences. And while I do my best to stay professional in places and contexts like this, disappointing others is nothing strange to me. I’ve simply learned to expect that some people will always look down upon me, or perhaps hate me. It’s why I keep to myself. But while I hated it when I was younger, it bothers me little now. I suppose that’s part of growing up.”

“That’s a lie,” you call him out. It’s hard to be cohesive in your groggy state, but you still try to put your words together. “I see how you respond to people who talk down to you. You keep it quiet as much as you can, but you always let your anger build up, until you reach a point that you lash out physically like you did with Mom. You hate being ridiculed. You hate not having control.”

Despite the blatant read of him, Yosuke looks down and smiles. “You know me so well, my pet. I’m flattered that you notice these little things about me—I guess it makes sense one would learn things about a person after spending so much time with them. I won’t pretend it isn’t true that I dislike not having a grip on things. I need certain kinds of order in my life.

“I may not crave the kind of bitter, fear-induced obedience that Lilah does, but I prefer to be in control. I prefer to keep my grip on things that otherwise would spiral. You may never have thought it before, but you and I have always had that in common. Perhaps that’s why we’ve fought each other so much.”

You know some of these feelings are genuine, but you still can’t help but think parts of his words are still deceptive. He wouldn’t open himself to you like this without reason. He could easily just be lying, couldn’t he?

The idea makes it easier for you to deny him.

“No,” you refuse. “We’re not at all alike. I don’t lash out like you do. You’ve even lashed out against me for being so crude to you. Me, who you claim to love.”

Yosuke’s lips press tight as he hears you say this, but he does not let you shake him. You’d say he’s not the kind of man who can be easily stirred by someone he’s so infatuated with, but you know you’ve offended him before.

“I promised not to do it again,” Yosuke reminds you. “I felt guilty, as I do whenever I have to be cruel to you. But I don’t want to hurt you, pet. I won’t let my anger out on you like that again.”

Is that all he’s worried about? You almost had a chance to chip away at his past and learn about him, but all that you ended up with was another redirection of the topic. Even when you are capable of naysaying him like Micah did at his attempt to redirect things, Yosuke is still able to hold power over you that he couldn’t over Micah. Over anyone else, really.

It’s because you’re a “lab rat”. You’re automatically lesser than the ones in charge. Though, it’s also just because you’re afraid of what might happen if you don’t comply at least sometimes.

Right…how could someone like you ever hope to leave a place like this when you aren’t even able to overcome the fears you have? You’re just kidding yourself at this point.

Though, that doesn’t mean you’ll give up on wanting it. The Overseer can put a stop to any real plans, but he can’t stop you from feeling and thinking what you do. Can he?

When Yosuke starts to walk down the hall, you shut up about him. It’d be pointless to keep pecking anyway. Plus, he probably isn’t all that fond of being so open in a place The Overseer and Lucius can see him. Gale at least would not do much with the information beyond making a note of it and picking apart things about Yosuke in their head. They’re very willing to read people aloud, but Gale is at least more polite about it at times.

In any case, you change the subject rather than stay quiet.

“What happened, anyway? I didn’t expect not to wake up in my room.”

“You were out cold for quite some time,” is Yosuke’s quick response. “I would have liked to let you sleep, but I have things to get to, and it was either take you away, or keep you in the room all day. I figured you might get antsy being holed up there.”

You frown. “You just didn’t want me to have time to think to myself.”

Yosuke chuckles, as if none of his frustrations from earlier just occurred. His only focus is you again.

“I can’t lie and say that isn’t true, dear. You-“

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” You remain embittered, though Yosuke only nudges your back a bit in response.

“Hush, now. You endanger yourself when you think too much. Especially lately.”

You go quiet at the passive insult and his dodging of your remark. You’re not going to win against him right now, so you just let him keep taking you away. You think nothing of your exhaustion otherwise, and figure you just woke up prematurely after a restless night. You have no memory of really falling asleep, frankly, but it doesn’t surprise you that you’d be tired after tossing and turning for so long. Maybe your body just gave up at some point.

While it scared you in the moment, you wind up pushing aside anything you dreamt of in the dark. The only thing that irks you is the murmurs—what were they? If only you had been able to hear them. But given how many voices you hear in your head these days, you don’t know if it was real or not.

When you eventually reach the office, Mom attempts to greet you and tease you about what happened last night. It’s embarrassing, but you find responding to her obediently like a robot to be easier than fighting her. It’s becoming easier to, even with your hangups.

Thankfully Yosuke doesn’t stick around long and makes it a point to demand you be let in because he’s dawdled long enough. As usual, he sets you back on your feet, though you have to lean on him for support for a moment to readjust to walking again. You feel so out of it, but it’s surprising to you that you’re this bad today. Why?

It’s despicable that you have to clutch onto his sleeves like a child, but of course he hardly minds it. Yosuke holds onto you, and something about the way he does it only brings you back to all the times he’s touched you in your dreams. You don’t want to make the connection, but you do.

As he holds you close, you wonder just why it is he keeps going after you when you escape his control so much. You’ve almost given up to him before, but now it’s become increasingly hard for him to control your emotions. You hate him, and he knows that. So why keep fighting to make you stay with him? He could just jump ship and find some other prisoner girl who’s easy to manipulate. Easy to win over.

It’s something about him you already knew, but he’s just admitted he dislikes not having control. So why play games with you? Why? You refuse to believe that he really means it when he says he loves you. You refuse to believe he has any attachment to you beyond unhealthy obsession.

Gale’s words about proximity only ring in your mind in response to the thought, but you refuse even that. You don’t believe that just being together for so long can impact your doctor. He was never healthy of mind to begin with if he harbored this terrible behavior beneath a deceptively calm surface. This man’s as broken as everyone else here. He just refuses to let other see that.

And you did nothing for it. He let himself break further because of you.

What makes you angrier is that while you’re here hating him, you also somehow miss the warmth of his body now that he’s finally left you. It’s not because it’s his—warmth just makes you feel better. But you still find it weird to ask your companions for things no matter how open they are to your requests. Maybe it’s because you’re so used to having it all taken from you.

Lav is probably the only one who could give you anything right now anyway. As you drag your feet to the rec room, you remember that Cyrus had his shot, and that he’s likely still out cold. But when you walk into the room and see him sitting upright on the couch closer to the game tables, you can’t help but stop in your tracks, confused.

Did you miss something?

The shot is said to knock people out for a few days, right? So why…

Your eyes scan the room back and forth, as if you’re hoping to find an answer in it. All you see is most everyone scattered about. The scene is hardly strange—Three and Blue are watching movies, the peachy girlfriends and Violet are pegging balls with pool cues over by one of the game tables, while the two resident knuckleheads Two and Pickle are at another. Lav and Eight are near Cyrus, with only Lav really conversing with him while Eight reads from a book with a crimson cover and gold trim. You think you see his mouth moving, and assume he's only commentating on the side.

That all, you feel, is something you’d expect to see. In a way, it’s almost calming despite your confusion. But what you don’t expect to see is Twelve.

You couldn’t see him from the door with all the people in the way, but as you muster steps toward the couch, you can. In the far right corner, in the back of the room and away from the others, the young man is sitting down with one leg bent and the other stretched out. He’s leaning against the wall, and his arms are free and crossed. You’re not sure if he came here bound or not, but if so, someone must have unbound him, and he chose not to retaliate this time.

Not yet, anyway.

Expectedly, he doesn’t look the least bit happy. His brows are furrowed, gaze sharp. Bruises on his neck and arms are hard to miss even from where you are. And when you see him, your heart jumps as you catch his bitter emerald eyes following you like a hawk. From the start, he saw you, and he has not let you out of his sight.

You may be out of sorts, but you vividly recall him being abused by Mom because he chose to hurt you. Despite how hard she kicked his stomach in and stomped on him, Twelve is giving no indication that it’s bothered or hindered him in the least. Either he’s hiding it, or it has started to heal quickly. But given that he’s not a weak young man, you’d believe he can take that kind of abuse just as much as he can take Lilah’s.

While you fear him, you are strangely glad to know he hasn’t been killed. Though, you won’t dance around it and say it’s not his own damn fault that he almost was.

While Twelve is the only one blatantly acknowledging you with his glare, the others are more silent about it. You can see them glancing your way for a moment, but most everyone is too preoccupied with their own stuff to greet you with more than a wave or a smile. You don’t mind it.

Only the three with whom you’ve become a bit more friendly with are the ones to see you so explicitly. But, to be fair, you gravitated toward them anyway.

“Cyrus?” You’re the first to speak when you arrive by the couch, standing before him while Eight remains with his green eyes on the pages of his book. Lav is leaning an arm against the couch cushion, but she only looks up at you curiously to see what you’re about to say.

“Why are you awake?”

Maybe he expected a “hello” or even an “are you alright?” rather than what you said. The way he looks up at you with confusion in his tired eyes leaves you to realize how sudden the inquiry was. Even Lav raises a brow at it.

Cyrus looks just fine, but the way his eyes are slightly droopy and the way he slowly shifts about is no more unusual than it was the first time you saw him this way. Though, you have to internally acknowledge that you feel exactly as he probably does right now. The both of you are really out of it.

Still, he is able to communicate just fine, if with a hint of dragging exhaustion in his voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were out cold just yesterday,” you lay out. “Last time you had a shot, you were out for two days at least.”

You don’t mean to sound like it’s such a big deal. You’re confused, if anything, but maybe it’s the combination of how groggy and beat up you look from the past few days that’s leaving the others to give you a concerned eye.

When you mention this, Eight finally drops his book and darts his eyes up toward you. Though he did not really react prior, it’s this that leaves him as confused as the others.

“Ten, you were the one who was out.”

You freeze. “Huh?”

Lav frowns and reaches a hand up to take yours. “Maybe you should sit down a bit.”

You don’t really argue against it, and let your knees bend and legs fold beneath you as you sit on the floor.

“I’m kind of confused. I was just here yesterday,” you say confidently. Cyrus, however, shakes his head.

“You must have been put out. Don’t freak out—they do that sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Checkups,” he clarifies. “You remember I’ve said it before. It’s not surprising they’d put us out to examine us or take care of other things. I don’t really know what things, but…”

This answer does not really make you feel better, but you give a muttering “oh” in response. The others try to bring you up to speed on what happened yesterday, noting that Twelve and a few other Numbers were out, and that it was a relatively quiet day. However, you struggle to focus on their words.

Knowing that you were out shouldn’t be a big deal, but given your circumstances, you know it could be. It could just be your doctor checking up on you, or it could be Mom or Micah examining your body or taking blood samples or whatever it is they do.

But you’re also sure that The Overseer examining you is an option too. You heard his voice and Lucius’ once before. Probably even just before you were actually given your shot. You know they had to have been observing you—well, your mind, anyway.

You wonder if the murmurs in your dream were from both men too. If so, obviously they dosed you more intensely in order to keep you from waking up again. But you are fairly confused as to why they had you all day. Did they spend a whole day running tests on you? Deciding what to do with you?

It’s frightening to think that they might have discussed awful things in your slumber. Casually talking about killing you, or even wanting to. Lucius especially. Somehow you can see him being the kind of person to whisper horrible things to an unconscious person, just to see if the words will stick in their minds after they wake.

Obviously, you can’t do anything with this information. You can’t know what The Overseer is up to, nor can you prevent what he wants to do with you. For now, it’s best to just set the issue aside. It’s hard to, knowing how you are. But you try.

“Gee, you’re really worked up about it, huh?” Lav notes when she examines your sullen face. “Everything okay? I mean, as okay as it can be?”

“I’m just thinking,” you brush this off. Explaining why you’re worried isn’t an option. How goddamn frustrating. “Can’t help it. I just didn’t realize I could lose a whole day like that. For a shot, I can understand. But I already had mine.”

“It’s probably better if you don’t think too hard about it,” Eight suggests as if it was such an easy thing to do. He may be a smart guy, but he occasionally forgets emotions and logic don’t always interconnect. Some things are easier said than done.

“We’re just glad you’re here,” Cyrus adds with a nod. “Frankly you look as tired as I do. Are you okay?”

You shrug “If I was put under for a while, I’m gonna feel pretty crappy today.”

As you say this, you again look over at Twelve. To your unease, his eyes have not left you.

No, wait—he’s not just looking at you. He’s looking at all of you. When someone opens their mouth, smiles, or laughs, his eyes dart to them.

You’re not sure if everyone knows he’s staring them all down, but you also would hate for that awareness to ruin their mood. Still, you can’t help but remain on edge. What’s his deal? Is he mad at you? At the others? Why?

You can’t really ask about him while he’s still there, so you stay quiet about your observation and continue to focus on the three before you.

“Do you remember what happened before you were out?” You ask Cyrus. He looks at you, shifts his aqua eyes to the side toward Eight, then returns his gaze to you before nodding. Eight remains unmoved by the gesture, continuing to stare into his book, but something about the way he tenses up makes it obvious he caught Cyrus’ glance.

Despite what went on in the infirmary, Eight doesn’t really bring it up nor give any indication that it happened. So, you won’t either, even if that means Cyrus won’t know that you know his doctor is also Eight’s now. Though, you figure the others will eventually catch on. At the very least, they’ll notice he’s not being bruised as much anymore.

“I’ve forgotten a few small things before,” Cyrus tells you. “But I definitely remember meeting Twelve. Kinda hard to forget that one.”

You bite your lip and again look over at the titular Number, but he’s focusing now on Two, who has made a cheerful noise after scoring a point against Pickle on one of the game tables. You didn’t really pay attention to what game each group was playing, aside from pool for the girls.

Twelve not only looks angry, but disgusted. You don’t understand for what reason other than maybe jealousy or spite.

You know Twelve was up in arms about everyone being so friendly and “okay” with this place, but he just doesn’t understand how things are here yet. You’re worried he’s going to keep making so many mindless and pitiful “escape” attempts that his death is inevitable. If only he were smarter.

If only he could help you.

Your hands tighten in your lap, clasping and curling into one another at the interrupting thought. No, a guy like that is too brainless to help anyone but himself. He’s only concerned about fighting, not fighting smart. Even Monica is more capable right now than he is, though maybe that says little.

You try to keep your focus on the conversation with Cyrus, Lav, and (partially) Eight. Despite the setback, things eventually wind down enough for the three to chat away about this and that. It’s hard to pay attention, however, because you keep being acutely aware of Twelve’s presence. You watch him like a hawk as he does to you and everyone else.

But it seems after a while, his attention stays mainly on Two and Pickle with how close they are to him and how loud they’re getting. While he kept going between them and you and the other groups, at some point, he just looks on scornfully at both boys.

At some point, he gets tired of watching them both act so jovial, and your heart beats faster as he stands up. You hope desperately he’ll just go to the bathroom or storm off or something, but no. Of course, he chooses to antagonize the boys.

The girls playing pool come to side-eye him when they catch Twelve approaching the young men nearby, but say nothing. Twelve is simply being looked down upon, and he doesn’t care.

You feel the color drain from your face watching the smiles fade from Two and Pickle’s faces when they are forced to interact with Twelve. You expect he’ll get physical immediately, but he doesn’t at first.

“God, can you two just shut up?” He spits. “You’re even more annoying than the doctors.”

Pickle pouts. “Then go somewhere else. We’re not leaving.”

Twelve simply lowers his brow. “Freak with a hair fetish gonna tell me what to do? Why are you even laughing? What the hell’s so funny that every other minute you two are making so much noise?”

“I’m not even bothering you,” Pickle stands his ground, ignoring the insult. “You’re bothering me. If it pisses you off to watch us, then don’t.”

You can’t understand it. Why is he antagonizing them? Two and Pickle weren’t even doing anything, so why? Just because he was frustrated and they were closer?

Twelve is monstrously hard to understand, and even harder to care about beyond simply wanting him not to die. But you can’t stand the tension he brings. Since day one, he’s only kept all of you on edge.

Hoping that things could be normal today was probably pointless. Now that Twelve’s here, you think that every day is just going to be hard to deal with. You’re sure the others wanted to just leave Twelve alone and forget him. Let him brood in a corner like others before him have. But he’s much more aggressive than you’ve ever seen the others be. There must be a reason, be it fear, frustration, or something else.

Everyone in the room by now has turned their attention to the three young men. All chatter has stopped, all activity ended. And when Twelve grabs the collar of Pickle’s shirt, the tension only gets worse.

“You’re really starting to piss me off, you skinny little fuck,” Twelve snaps. “What the hell are you all smiling for, anyway, eh? What the fuck makes you think it’s okay?”

By now, Six and Lav are the only ones rearing to stop him, with Lav attempting to stand, and Six gripping the pool cue tightly with intent to attack. Violet, despite holding a pool cue, simply clutches it and stares with wide eyes.

Seeing her sweetheart’s gesture, Five puts her hand on Six’s forearm to lower the cue, but Six continues to be on guard. You can’t blame Five for not wanting the situation to escalate with violence—you certainly don’t want it either. But if nobody stops Twelve when he’s agitated, he could do unnecessary damage.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The usually chipper Two demands to know, brows furrowing. “Dude, grow up! He’s not hurting anyone. None of us are. What’s your problem?”

You watch Pickle’s amber eyes widen slightly, lips pressed tight as he remains uncertain what Twelve will do. It’s no secret that he couldn’t possibly overpower Twelve even if he wanted to. He’s frailer by comparison. The only way he could really defend himself is if he were faster than Twelve.

Even though Pickle already seems to know this, you catch his hands balling into fists. He’s prepared to defend himself, even if it’s at a disadvantage. Silently, you beg him not to.

By now, Blue is watching from the other end of the room with as much concern as everyone. Though usually so laid back, her look as she turns in her seat and faces the commotion is tense. As for Three, she’s curling up into herself. You’re so used to seeing her cling to someone else in times of stress that it’s odd seeing her like this. She looks frozen solid from afar, but you’re sure she’s shivering.

Twelve scowls. “God you’re all so fucking annoying. I don’t care if you tell me you won’t try to hurt me. You think that’s what this is about? Do you know how fucking sick you all are?”

“You’re the one who’s sick,” Two shoots back. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let him go!”

Twelve’s grip tightens, but Lav, now standing, steps forward.

“He said let him go!” She growls. “You dense motherfucker—I thought we had a deal! You made a promise-“

“Yeah, and I’m a real big fucking disappointment,” Twelve interrupts her. “A real, bona fide loser. Think I care what you think of me?”

Despite threatening to punch Pickle, all he does is shove him back hard enough to cause him to fall. With a startled cry, Pickle falls back and hits his head hard against the thick leg of the game table.

Rather than retaliate, Two moves by his friend’s side and gets on his knees, hands clutching at Pickle’s shoulder and head.

“Are you okay?!”

Dazed, Pickle doesn’t answer. You’re frozen in place, watching Two try to rouse his friend, but the hit was apparently hard enough to leave him temporarily unable to respond. All he does is bring his hands to his head and curl up on his side, groaning.

Twelve looks unremorsefully down at Two hovering over his friend, and frowns. “Fucking Christ.”

He has no time to really process the reaction, or else he just doesn’t care. However, one moment, Twelve is standing there and staring intensely at the two young men beneath him. The next, he’s being pinned against the back wall by his shoulders, by Lav.

She’s angry, but somehow when her voice rings out, it’s a mixture of fury and frustration, like it’s about to crack.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” She demands. “Why are you doing this? Why do you have to act like this every goddamn day?!”

“Get off of me,” Twelve spits, voice low and face scrunched up. Lav doesn’t listen and instead pins him harder against the wall.

“Answer me!”

Twelve’s anger only grows, and he yells in her face. “Because I fucking hate you!”

Without a second thought, he moves his leg up to kick her hard. The act sends Lav back a bit, partly by Twelve’s own force, and partly because she moves out of his way to avoid taking too much damage.

Before he can move to attack Lav and take advantage of her brief stumbling back, as if on instinct, Six leaves her sweetheart’s side despite her begging against it, and rushes to Twelve. Her arm raises high, and she strikes him hard with the pool cue. It’s not enough to do a ton of damage, but it distracts Twelve enough from his target.

You’ve never seen her actually take action like this, and are left stunned as she grips the pool cue like a club and readies herself to strike again if she has to.

“I don’t wanna do this, but you’re not giving me a choice,” she relays, as if apologetic for having to lash out like this. “I’m not letting you hurt anyone else!”

For a moment, she turns to her worried sweetheart and forces a meager smile. “…Sorry. I had to.”

Seeing that he’s between two people ready to fight him, Twelve holds himself back and stands with his fists balled and his eyes wild with fury.

“You’re pieces of shit!” he shouts out rather than attempt to strike again. “Every single one of you! All you assholes do is sit in your little pigpen and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just laugh and smile and play around like this is all just another stupid day.”

“What are we supposed to do, huh?!” Two snaps, finally bothering to turn his head from Pickle. “Do you think we like it here?!”

“This place is hell,” Six adds with a voice as firm as her grip on the pool cue. “We don’t have a choice. Either we use what they give us here to distract from the pain, or we let ourselves fall so far that we die.”

Twelve scoffs. “Yeah, if you wanna be a martyr so bad and send a message, you might as well kill yourself. What’s there to live for here? Pool games? You already said you won’t fight back. So if you won’t do that, you might as well just give up. Throw in the towel because you’re so goddamn sad and lonely.”

Violet’s grip on her cue tightens. “…How could you say that..?”

“I can say whatever I want. They haven’t done shit to me yet,” Twelve laughs. “I’m gonna die here, huh? Might as well go down kicking.”

“Then you’re as stupid as you claim the rest of us to be,” Eight finally speaks up, loudly shutting his book and setting it aside. He stands, but does not approach the others nor make any attempt to. He simply stares on at an enraged Twelve. “You don’t use your head much, do you?”

“Save me the speech, Einstein,” Twelve leers. “You’re not changing my mind. You’re all pieces of shit just like me. I’m just the only one here who’s willing to put myself on the line.”

Eight does not budge. “Because you don’t care about yourself.”

“I don’t care about anything!” The statement leaves Twelve yelling back. The raise in volume causes Five to flinch. “Especially not myself!”

“So why try to leave?” Eight presses. “If you’re so desperate to make an impression and escape a place like this, and you really hate yourself that much, then why don’t you follow your own suggestion?”

“Eight,” Cyrus tries to warn him with a firm tone, but Eight hardly listens.

“You won’t ever leave this place, Twelve,” he goes on. “Either you find a way to cope with that, or you find another way to leave. But I can tell you this—nobody’s going to miss you. You’ll be replaced, one way or the other. The world will turn and more people will suffer. Perhaps even someone you once knew. What’s the point? Hm?”

Twelve glowers. “I told you I don’t care about anyone else. I don’t give a shit who else takes my place. I’m a selfish asshole, just like you all say. You think you’re gonna kiss up to me and I’m gonna be all nice?”

“Nobody here is trying to be nice to you,” Eight rejects him. “Don’t kid yourself. Maybe at first we wanted to be kind, but you’re just digging your own grave by lashing out every time you see us happier than you. You can’t stand to see us smile because you’re suffering, and you want everyone else to feel what you do.”

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what I think. You don’t know anything about me,” Twelve snaps. “And if you’re not trying to be nice, then why the hell are you all trying to stop me?! If you want me out of here so badly so you can get back to your stupid little games, why bother with me? If they’re gonna kill me, then let them. Because if they don’t, all I’m going to be is a problem.”

This, Eight remains stumped on. He struggles to give a cohesive answer, but doesn’t stay quiet. “You couldn’t ever understand why we tried. Why some of us don’t want you to die. But there’s always a reason for everything. Even a reason why you must be doing what you are.”

Twelve stares at Eight, but does not acknowledge his words. His expression lessens its fury for just a split second, but he immediately clings back to his hateful state.

“God, you’re all so hellbent on preserving what doesn’t matter,” he spits. “You let yourselves get so attached to this place that you won't do a thing to fight against it, or anyone who threatens it. You wanna know why I don’t respect you? You don’t do anything but sit there sucking each other’s dicks and smiling. Every time one of you fucks laughs, I wanna put your heads through a wall. If you hadn’t stopped me, maybe I would have.”

He tilts his head. “Maybe I still should.”

He gives no time for anyone to react. Even for as readied as she tried to be to stop him, Six is unable to prevent him from grabbing onto her hair and yanking her toward the table. In her shock, she drops the pool cue, which clatters loudly onto the hard floor and rolls a few inches away, close to Two’s feet. Six lets out a pained yell as Twelve holds her weight purely by her head, gripping and preparing to yank her head against the table’s edge to hurt her.

Five’s hand clasps over her mouth as she watches the ordeal, a sort of involuntary response despite the fear in her deep brown eyes indicating she knows she needs to act. Before Lav can move to defend against him, or Twelve can hurt Six, the intercom chimes in and takes everyone aback.

“Attention all guests,” a calm, soothing voice rings out. “Lunch is now ready to be served. If you are hungry, please make your way over to the cafeteria now.”

Six’s eyes shift up in bewilderment, her jaw dropping slightly despite her hands still reaching up to try yanking Twelve’s grip from her head.

“Gale?”

It seems nobody really expected to hear them as opposed to Mom or Monica. Even you’re taken aback, until you realize why Gale chimed in at all. They’re in The Overseer’s office right now, aren’t they? But then, that also means they can communicate to you from there as well. Nobody would ever know.

How much they must be agonizing over almost seeing Six get hurt. Their voice played it off so smoothly, but you can only imagine that Gale was sitting there, worried.

As Twelve is distracted looking up, Five gathers her wits and rushes to take her sweetheart from his grip. He tries to reach for her again, but Five falls to the floor and holds Six close against her, tightly gripping everywhere she can to keep her safe.

The distraction was only enough to temporarily shake the tension, but not enough to eliminate it. Now that Twelve is left empty-handed, he looks down both girls and scoffs.

“You’ll get hurt looking out for each other like that,” he says bluntly. “First those two idiots and now you two? And what, you’re in love or something? You have so much time to waste that you’ll get together?”

He mutters with an annoyed. “Jesus. What a goddamn joke. You people have no idea just how woven into this place you are, do you? You let this happen.”

Six turns her head and shoots a dirty side glance up at Twelve, but Five remains holding her tightly, eyes shut as she tries to come down from the shock of almost watching Six get hurt.

Nobody says anything, either because they are at a loss for words, too angry to speak, or too frightened. Looking over at Two, his head is hanging over Pickle, who thankfully still looks to be breathing, just in pain. The peachy girlfriends remain in arms, silent and focused only on each other. Lav stands tall, fists tightly balled up, amber eyes sharply watching Twelve and waiting for a reason to stop him. But while he still has malice in his eyes, he stands motionless, staring Lav down in turn.

Eight’s just as much on edge, hands shaking ever so slightly. You’ve never seen him like this before, but even with how composed and focused his face looks, you can tell that even he is frightened. He isn’t the type to act as opposed to speak, and he’s never been. Would he if he had to?

Excluding a few, all eyes in the room are on Twelve, staring him down intensely. You see nothing more than a young man ready to fight the world and reject everything, arms and neck and face full of bruises, eyes laced with hatred. He does not move anymore, until a voice peeps out.

“Why?”

You all look over to see a severely distraught Three, eyes wet and threatening to cry, and lips trembling.

“Why are you hurting us like this? Why don’t you just go away?”

Twelve’s face remains unamused, though he no longer is baring his usual wild and furious look. He stares over at Three a moment, before eventually stepping away from everyone by the table and slowly moving toward Three.

“Who the fuck are you?” He questions her, stepping closer and closer. “Hm? What’s with that face? You look like some sniveling little kid.”

Three clasps her hands together as if in a fearful prayer, and widens her eyes the closer Twelve gets. She’d been on the floor when everything started, and has not once moved from her place there. All she does is look up at him as his frame comes closer, close enough to start towering above her.

“I said who are you?” Twelve demands, and Three avoids his sharp gaze.

“Just go away,” she begs shakily. “Please. You’re hurting us. You didn’t have to do this. Pickle’s hurt because of you.”

“You know, you really oughtta look someone in the eye if you’re gonna talk to them and try to sound brave,” spits Twelve as he finally stands still before Three. “What’s with that look, huh? You don’t look very brave to me.”

He sounds less furious and more just frustrated. You aren’t sure why, nor can you really pinpoint it, but the way he looks at her is somehow different from the way he was looking at everyone else earlier.

Despite that, he still insists on being aggressive and handsy. Twelve reaches down and grips at Three’s wrist and tug it toward him, though he does little more than use it as a tactic to frighten her.

It works as expected, and Three lets out a scared whine while looking up fearfully at the young man.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” He sounds more perplexed than angry, but Twelve’s grip on Three tightens nonetheless. You aren’t sure what’s wrong with him, because he’s definitely changed his tune. Aggressive, yes. But different in a way you can’t explain. He seems off-put.

By now Three is shaking so hard that you’re convinced she might break apart completely. But before Twelve can interrogate her further, he’s interrupted.

The room’s focus had been so intense on Twelve that you’re taken aback hearing Lav call out “wait!”. At first, you think it’s to Twelve, but when your head turns, you see Two with the pool cue that Six had dropped, now in his hands as he runs to the other side of the room.

He is not nearly as strong or coordinated as he could be, but he manages to swing and smack the shit out of Twelve’s arm, enough for him to drop Three’s wrist and clutch the injured area in temporary shock. Twelve lets out a brief grunt of pain, shooting emerald daggers at Two who simply stands there clutching the pool cue, hands shaking and eyes wide. Though he’s intimidated, he stands his ground.

“Not her too,” he begs with a hushed tone. “Not my sister.”

Twelve does not take long to recover and retaliate.

With a frustrated growl, he swings his arm to sock Two in the jaw, but your friend is quick-thinking and manages to shield himself with only the cue. Twelve’s knuckles hit hard against the thing, the hit strong enough to let out an audible CRACK, though the cue does not fully break.

While he managed to avoid heavy damage, Two winds up knocked back hard enough to fall on his ass, and the cue is again dropped.

Despite her fright, seeing Two get hurt causes Three to move quickly to her brother’s side. She clutches at him, asking in desperation whether he’s okay. Two hardly answers due to the shock from his knock-back, but upon getting his bearings again, he looks up immediately to see what Twelve is going to do.

Twelve’s fists are shut tight, ready to make another attempt at striking Two. But before he has a chance to move, Two immediately moves his body over Three’s, his back facing Twelve and his arms hugging his sister tightly in an attempt to protect her.

His eyes shut as he anticipates a hit, but strangely, Twelve freezes.

Everyone else’s eyes are on him, even the two peachy girls who had been on the ground and have since shifted to sitting together in an embrace mainly led by Five. Twelve hardly notices them, or else he chooses not to.

For some reason, all he does is stare wide eyed at Two embracing his sister. The frailer young man is gritting his teeth and flinching as he expects pain, even when he doesn’t feel it immediately. You can’t fathom what might be going on in his head, but whatever it is, Twelve has suddenly refused to move.

His fists unfurl, but the gesture leaves Blue nearby scoffing.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” She pesters him with a scowl. “You don’t look so good.”

Twelve is motionless, though he mutters a furious “shut up” at her. Two finally looks up at him with a peep of his eye, still clutching his frightened sister who, by now, has buried her head in his chest.

The room is silent otherwise as all its residents gaze upon Twelve’s unusual reaction. But rather than stick to it, Twelve tries to immediately shake it off. His hesitance turns into blatant fury again, and his fists tighten once more.

He calls out again, loud this time. “All of you just shut the fuck up!”

His booming voice frightens you, leaves your heart jumping, but you stay still with one hand gripping the hem of your gown, and the other curling its fingers along the cold floor.

Twelve does not give anyone a chance to respond to his words or his actions. He’s enraged again, but so fed up that he doesn’t even bother doing anything else. He turns, his emerald eyes darting around the room in a furious frenzy, teeth clenched. Something about his expression reflects more than just anger, but you can’t quite place it.

By now, he’s sucking in breaths through his mouth, chest heaving. It’s when you see this that you realize something’s freaked him out, but that he’s apparently trying to regain control of himself and the situation. You’ve had the same look before and felt the same way.

It’s not clear if anyone else realizes what’s going on with him, but you don’t blame them for only focusing on safety, eyeing him to see what it is he’ll do rather than giving any mind to what he’s feeling.

Twelve could easily bounce back and try to hurt your friends more, but he doesn’t. He becomes frustrated with whatever it is he’s feeling and seeing, and all he does is let out a frightening groan from the back of his throat that sounds almost like some animalistic growl as opposed to a human sound.

Rather than keep attacking others, he flees. Quickly, he storms away, fast enough for the double doors to still be closed when he reaches them. In his anger, he attempts to dig at the slit between both doors and pry them open, which they only do after a brief delay.

Twelve doesn’t look back once. He leaves, storming down the hall and going into some other room. It’s the last you see of him before the rec room doors shut him away from you completely.

Nobody moves. It’s as if the entire room just took in a huge breath and just never let it go. When you glance over at Cyrus, he’s tense, lips tight and knuckles white as he grips at the deep blue fabric over his knees.

Eight, who had watched the ordeal like a hawk, only sits back down and makes a meager attempt to return to his book and shut out what he’s just seen. You know he’s likely worried about the others, but isn’t the kind to fret openly. Frankly, if it were you with that book, you might do the same thing and try to come down from your fear by any means. But seeing his subtle reactions makes you wonder whether he’s been this way with Lilah before. It’s difficult to imagine how much he must have suffered under her, and now has to continue suffering under her by extension through her Number.

Five and Six seem a little less on edge now, though Six has to comfort her tense sweetheart by petting her hand and leaning her lips close to her ear to whisper something. Five’s face reflects a horror you haven’t seen her express before. Her lips are just slightly parted as she breathes through her mouth, but she allows Six to help calm her.

The twins do something similar, and your attention is drawn to them when you hear Two murmuring “it’s okay, it’s okay” to his sister as he pets her head. She’s not crying, but looks like she’s either about to, or is just so defeated that she’s just numb.

Despite that, however, she somehow picks her head up and becomes alert when something else crosses her mind.

“Wh-what about Pickle?!”

Two becomes just as alert, and though Three has never once shown an ounce of care for Pickle before, she and her brother both get to their feet and run to the boy by the game table. He’s still groaning and holding his head, though the twins both kneel over him and try to rouse him. Three, to your surprise, is especially worried.

“A-are you okay?!” She cries out. “I didn’t know he’d do that! I…”

“You should give him some room.” Lav’s voice, soft, calls out. She kneels by them, near Pickle’s feet, but still a step back enough to not fully crowd him. You notice she just looks exhausted after all that excitement. “Is he bleeding?”

“No,” Three confirms after running a hand gently along Pickle’s head and moving his hands away. Pickle’s eyes open, and Two tries to smile for him.

“Hey, you good?” He tries to rouse him further, attempting to keep his voice gentle and upbeat. “How you feeling?”

Once Pickle gives out an incomprehensible mutter, followed by a “huh?”, Three starts to ask him a slew of random questions, in the hopes of getting a more focused reaction.

“Do you know who we are?!” She drills, hands clasping together and pressing against her chest. “What’s your name? What color is your shirt?”

Pickle lays his head back and closes his eyes again, thinking. Despite the other two questions, Pickle mainly latches onto Three’s third question. After a moment of silence, he makes a slurred guess.

“Yellow…?” However, Pickle then opens his eyes and raises his arm to look at his sleeve. “Green.”

We should get him checked out,” Lav presses upon hearing his unusual answer. “Even if that means we need to call Ma or Monica.”

“It’s just to be safe,” Two doesn’t disagree, though he hardly seems thrilled by the idea either. “It didn’t look like he got hit that hard when he fell, but I also know people’s heads are like, weirdly sensitive.”

Three frowns and looks away. “Why did he do that?”

Blue, who has now opted to step closer to the group, folds her arms and scoffs. “Because he’s an irreputable dick. He’s got problems. He just doesn’t know how to handle stress. Like, really doesn’t know. Guess whoever raised him didn’t do a good job dealing with his anger problems.”

You shake your head. “He’s worse than any of us have ever been. I can’t understand him, but I’m also afraid to keep my eyes off him. Hell, what if he’s trying to be reckless again and escape again right now?”

“We need to focus on each other before that,” Eight mutters. “I’d say you shouldn’t move him, but it’s best that he gets looked at. Take Pickle to the infirmary first. We’ll worry about Twelve later.”

“Yeah,” Two nods in agreement before addressing Pickle and extending a hand to him. “Can you stand and walk? Or should we have someone come get you?”

Pickle takes his hand and allows him and Three to help him up. Though he looks fine, he seems a bit cloudy now.

“My head hurts,” he mumbles. “I didn’t think I hit the table that hard.”

“We’ll help,” Three tells him with a worried look on her face. “I’m…I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Pickle only briefly turns to her and gives a sluggish smile. “I’m sure I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

The trio head out to help Pickle, and while you worry they’ll come across Twelve again, you also know a doctor being around is something that will help protect them from harm. And even if that wasn’t the case, being together in small groups is better protection than nothing.

You don’t know where the bastard is, but right now, you don’t really care. You’re tired of this.

The room begins to slowly settle, but you know it’ll be a bit longer before everyone can calm down from the commotion. For now, you all sort of go off in your separate groups, trying to comfort one another. Lav comes back to the couch and stands by it, and at a glance, you see Blue and Violet somewhere behind her and toward the game tables, kneeling down by Five and Six, asking if they’re okay. Their murmuring answers are hard to focus on, but you think they’re all starting to gather themselves after what happened.

“Cy, how do you do it?” You look up at Lav. Her brows are lowered, lips tight like Cyrus’ as she tries to parse through the events that just occurred.

“Do what?” Cyrus questions, unsure. Lav fights with herself about whether or not to open up about her concerns. You figure she must not want to come across as selfish for seeking advice when her concerns should be on others, but you understand what that’s like. You’ve been a little selfish before too. In times of stress, you’ve sought out help without immediately focusing on others. With what happened just now, you get that everyone’s a little out of sorts.

“You know, the whole unconditional kindness thing. I have the capacity to be kind, but that asshole’s been testing me,” Lav goes on. “I let him out twice and that only proved to be a mistake both times. I’m losing my mind here. Not only am I a fuckup, but all that kindness I thought I was able to give is apparently finite. What am I supposed to do with that guy?”

“Neither of those things are true,” Cyrus refuses her with a frown. “He’d find a way to do damage regardless of whether or not he was cuffed. He has before. And you’re tough, but you have a good heart. You let people press your buttons which isn’t always good, but at the same time, sometimes action is necessary.”

Despite having felt so tense, Lav gives a bit of a sigh. “Let me guess. Balance?”

Cyrus nods. “That’s right. Don’t hold it against yourself so much if you have a few bad spots. It’s normal to, especially for someone with a strong personality. And I’m glad you’re so protective of us, but you shouldn’t have to be the one taking charge of situations like that.”

Lav scratches at the back of her head. “If I’d taken better charge, he wouldn’t have hurt the others. But you know, you’re the more level-headed guy who takes charge of all the social harmony around here. You aren’t a big fighter, so maybe I wanna contribute to the group my own way. And I know responsibility for this group doesn’t fall on any one person’s shoulders, but I can’t help but be a little protective when someone threatens the people I love like that.”

Cyrus looks at her, smiling weakly. The attempt is pitiful given how concerned he is about Twelve, but he tries to be present for her. “I told you, you have a heart. But as do we all. We’re sort of like this one body, in a way. One of us gets hurt, and so we all feel it. You aren’t the only one who was scared of how it could have gone, or concerned about the others.”

Lav frowns. “I am annoyed, though, that my only reaction was anger. I dunno, that guy really brings out the worst in me. Yet I’m the only one he might actually listen to at this point, only because he thinks I’m strong enough to be heard. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“You say that as if he listens to you now,” Eight points out dryly. “He said he’s respect you one day, then the next, he broke your agreement without remorse.”

Lav only sighs in response. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be fine,” Cyrus tries to assure her, but Lav isn’t too convinced. Wanting to comfort her the way he knows how to with people, he reaches his hand up to hold hers. Lav’s amber eyes only watch his hand on hers, though she curls her fingers around it all the same.

“Do you know that for sure?” She questions, and Cyrus can only shake his head.

“No, but I’d be a sucker if I let my fears continue to drag me down. I keep going down that road. I shouldn’t. I don’t know what Twelve will do, or if we’ll lose him. I can’t predict anything in this place, really. But we’re still here, so let’s be glad about it. And let’s hope Pickle’s okay.”

Lav and Cyrus’ hands disconnect, though they don’t say much else on the subject. Watching them, you wonder whether this should upset you, but it doesn’t. You’re glad they’re able to confide in one another as you have been able to with each of them. They’re also different together than with you. It’s not a bad thing at all, just new, you guess. They still love you.

And you…

“Not to make it worse with a dose of practicality, but a lot of us don’t stand a chance against a guy like that,” Eight states from behind his book, disconnecting your train of thought. “Not alone. He’ll back off if we’re together, but leaving him be isn’t an option if he’s around and we’re spread too thin.”

Having overheard, Violet turns her head toward you all and speaks up. “So what are we supposed to do about him? He’s getting worse.”

“He’s acting out,” you point out. “He’s frustrated and pointing fingers at anyone he can beyond himself. It’s dangerous, but there’s not a lot we can do. I guess if he were to attack us, someone would come and stop him, but it’s still dangerous. Though, I’ve been noticing something weird—He’s been hesitating for some reason. I can’t really guess why, but maybe something strikes him when he sees us react a certain way.”

“It’s a good thing he stopped when he did,” Blue adds as she sits on the floor by the peachy girlfriends. They seem too preoccupied with each other to really contribute to the conversation. Their attempts at soothing one another are quiet and based largely on touch, you find. “He could have done worse.”

“He doesn’t know how to handle his anger toward this place,” Eight supposes, dropping his book again. “I know that feeling well.”

Violet bites her lip. “I hate to admit it, but so do I. But I sure as hell don’t want to get close to him right now to try talking him down just because I can kind of relate.”

“I’d rather you didn’t get near him,” Eight retorts, though he immediately grumbles and puts his book back up when Blue starts smirking and looking directly at him.

“Nobody should,” Cyrus agrees. “We should stick together for a while. At least until he shows he won’t try to hurt us unprovoked.”

“Take it from me, he got upset because we were all together.” Violet, who had been kneeling, now pushes off the floor and stands up to get closer to you all. Her arms fold, and she stands by Lav. “That outburst didn’t come from nowhere. He was watching us the way I used to watch you.”

“He did look pretty angry when I came in,” you add in agreement. “I kept seeing him stare at us back and forth with so much anger in his eyes. I was afraid he’d act out, and I was unfortunately right.”

“So you think he’s like, jealous of us or something?” Blue questions. “Why’d he even bother sitting around if he knew seeing us all happy was gonna piss him off?”

Violet sighs. “Because maybe he didn’t wanna be alone. I’m only going off my own experience, but even when I pushed people away, all I wanted was to be included. He’s not like me, though, so his reasons could be different. Who knows, maybe he was just trying to see how we operate together.”

“Like he’s some criminal mastermind with some big plan to take us all out,” Lav scoffs. Even if the remark was sarcastic, you can’t help but shake your head.

“If he wanted us dead, he could have easily killed us.”

“Who says he won’t? He hurt Pickle,” Lav reminds you sternly. “He hurt Eight and Cyrus and you, and he would have hurt Six and Two. You heard the guy. He doesn’t care about anyone.”

“But he’s also shown weird spots where he’s able to listen to some kind of conscience,” you argue. “Please, I know I sound crazy, but he acts different sometimes. It’s subtle, but he does, and I don’t understand it.”

Lav sighs, and forces her anger aside. “Yeah, I believe you. I know. But he’s an aggressive guy who hates when he can’t come across as a top dog. He obviously hates any moment of vulnerability he could potentially have.”

“Let’s not forget the way Lilah abuses people does take a toll on them,” adds Eight. By now, you’re convinced he isn’t even reading the book anymore, and only listening. “The guy’s got a strong personality, but his confusion about this place, Lilah’s work on him, and that personality don’t exactly make a good combo. Though, there’s something that’s bothering me about that.”

Violet’s brows raise. “What is it?”

Eight finally closes his book and puts it down in his lap. “I don’t know what we’ve been through before this, but our experiences before coming to this facility must have shaped us somehow. There are pieces of our past that shine through in the way we are and the things we do, even if we can’t remember those things anymore. A guy like that is aggressive on demand. There has to be a reason. A part of me thinks maybe he’s been hurt before. He might not remember that hurt, but he still has the bad habits that formed from it. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

The others exchange glances with one another as they ponder this idea. Lav’s frustrated brow does not give you confidence that she agrees with it, until you realize it’s probably that she just doesn’t find it as a good excuse to be a jerk more than anything else.

You look solemnly at Eight and wonder aloud. “Does that mean you too?”

Eight avoids looking your way and closes his eyes instead. “We all have habits, but yes. But I must have had it better than him if I had the skills I did. Evidently, I had something to keep me grounded in times of need. He might not have. Of course, I’m only spitballing. I’m not great with understanding people. I only know what I observe, and what I experience.”

You bite your lip. “He must have had a center. He holds back sometimes. He could have hurt the twins and didn’t. He could have hurt me much worse, and didn’t. Something keeps getting to him.”

“It’s possible,” is Eight’s answer once his eyes open again. “Either way, he won’t listen to reason. Hurting him back and enraging him isn’t the answer either. The small kindnesses you think are pointless are probably all you can do. It will take time to get him to trust us, because a guy like that is the kind of guy who can’t trust just anyone. I understand that, in a way. I was just never as destructive as he is.”

“That’s cool and all, but being nice to him is too hard,” Blue rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna hide how he makes me feel any more than I did when you were being an asshole, Eight. Lav sure as hell won’t either.”

“No, but I still have enough of a conscience to just keep trying, I guess,” answers Lav with a shrug. “Look, I just wanna put this behind us. Twelve is doing god knows what, but as long as it doesn’t affect us, I don’t care. I don’t know who he was, but all that matters now is who he chooses to be.”

Despite being quiet this entire time, Five finally speaks up. Her voice is soft and sullen, but she tries to hide it. “Today’s not looking so good. I agree that we should try moving away from this, both mentally and physically. Getting out of this room would help. We could get some food, even, since it might give us a little more energy.”

Looking over her way, she and Six are still holding one another, though the latter looks somewhat distant. You aren’t sure why, but figure she was scared despite braving against Twelve earlier.

You hold your stomach and think on it a bit. “I guess so. I haven’t eaten today. And Gale did say it was lunch time.”

Cyrus looks up a moment. “It’s weird that it was them this time, wasn’t it?”

“It distracted Twelve before he could do worse damage,” is all you tell him. There’s not much about it that you can tell him. “I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Holding your stomach only reminds you of Twelve again, though, and you can’t help but ask about him. “So, did he already get better after having his stomach kicked in by Mom?”

Nobody appears to question this, so you’re led to assume what happened was already divulged to others.

Violet rolls her eyes around as she thinks about it. “Well, she did say he was a resilient guy, and we know for a fact he doesn’t like showing his weaknesses. I doubt someone could heal from that in a day, so more than likely he’s just hiding that it and all the bruises he’s already gotten in just a few days still hurt. He’s able to get through that pain like a champ. He’s strong that way. I guess that’s about the only good thing I can say about him.”

You frown. “Guess so.”

There’s no word of Twelve after this, nor any apparent signs of his presence. It takes a while for everyone to come down from the uproar he caused, but without him around anymore, it’s easier to relax just a little. Nobody really knows what he might be doing, but so long as there aren’t any more grand escape attempts or fights, nobody really cares. Last time he went off alone, he didn’t really pose a problem, after all.

Maybe you feel bad about not caring about his whereabouts when he’s gone. Maybe a lot of you do, judging by the way your friends all occasionally slip glances toward the doors or look between one another. But nobody really wants to discuss it, and so you don’t.

Nobody goes back to what they were doing, really. The spirit is no longer there, but that hardly stops you all from trying to stick together and talking to one another. The previously distant Six even manages to perk up a little more once everything’s calmed down, much to her sweetheart’s relief. You notice she’s still pretty out of sorts, but you’re not sure just what it is she’s hung up on, nor do you think to ask when it’s evident she doesn’t really wanna talk about it.

At some point, you all finally decide to go to the cafeteria, going one by one to the hall just in case Mom emerges from the infirmary and sees more of you together.

The cafeteria is thankfully Twelve free, so everyone’s able to breathe a sigh of relief upon gathering there. Charlie takes a while to answer when you all crowd the counter, but does eventually emerge and give a slight few scraggly words of greeting before finally serving everyone some kind of simple noodle dish with oddly cut vegetables. Everyone crowds the tables and tries to mingle like they always do, but you still sense that air of worry that hasn’t fully gone away since Twelve left. Even though you said you didn’t care, you do start to wonder just what he might be doing. Is he sulking? Trying to plot another escape? Or something else?

Maybe Eight’s harsh words to him weren’t the healthiest. You don’t think Twelve is so destructive that he’d hurt himself like others have, but that’s still an option you fear. Still, you just hope he doesn’t choose to be reckless again. It’s a futile wish given how he’s been, though. Your only worry should be when exactly he’ll put you on edge again. It’s frustrating. The stress of his existence is not one you need on top of all the other stressors. But it’s another one you’re helpless to.

As you eat, you can’t help but let your mind bounce between the fear of getting pregnant, inaccessible memories of Dahlia, the incomprehensible murmurs from your dream, and your doctor’s strange and awful behavior. And then there’s Monica—you just wish she’d help you.

Real freedom isn’t realistic here, but the fact that you thought you had a chance to attain it and suddenly were told you didn’t just made you feel like you had the rug snatched out from under you.

What would you even do with freedom? Would a normal life be possible again? You don’t even know who you are, let alone how the outside world works. Others might have some idea and can quickly learn what they forgot, but you feel stupid. Mnemosyne really fucked your head up. Things that should be obvious to you just aren’t.

“Empty” is how Micah described it. It’s embarrassing to think he might be right. You can’t help but feel a little intellectually inferior to your friends, but that’s not really your fault, or theirs.

Eventually, the twins and Pickle do all come back to you, somehow knowing the cafeteria was where you’d all be. Seeing him now, Pickle looks a lot better—not dizzy or badly phased, but still a little floaty.

“My doctor’s busy with something,” he tells the others as he and the twins take their seats at the table. His words are spoken as if he’s just woken up and is trying to process being awake, but he seems fine otherwise. “Mama didn’t seem all that worried after asking me a lot of questions and giving me some medicine, but said she’d have my doctor take me to get a more thorough examination later.”

“How do you feel?” Five questions sympathetically. Pickle shrugs.

“A little tired, but I can think and talk and all that just fine,” he says. “I just feel a little sluggish after hitting myself like that.”

Two chuckles. “This guy. Can you believe he thought his shirt was yellow?”

“Did I say that?” Pickle seems confused as he looks over at his friend. “I don’t remember. I felt a lot of pain in my head when I hit myself and only really remember fully coming to when Mama was hovering over me.”

“You were speaking to us just fine,” Three remarks unhappily. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Pickle ponders this. “I am now, but I guess I wasn’t at first.”

As he takes another bite of his food, Three remains downtrodden and only prods at hers.

“I’m…um…glad that you’re okay,” she eventually lets out. “I got scared seeing him hurt you.”

You look up from your food and watch the two closely. In fact, you notice that, for the first time in a while, she’s sitting with her brother and Pickle. Between them, even. She’s never really let herself be close by.

Pickle looks her way and tries to smile. “Thank you for looking out for me, and for taking me to the infirmary. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Three answers with red cheeks. “I know I’m upset at you about a lot, but you’re still one of us. I wouldn’t leave you if you’re injured. Especially not with Twelve around. I was scared watching him do what he did. I don’t know if you saw it, but he even went after me, and then Two.”

Pickle gives a rather surprised look, mouth agape. “He did? I remember hearing a lot of commotion, but I was focused on the pain in my head.”

Three nods. “He protected me. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Two, who’s been silent through this all, finally speaks up with a solemn voice. He seems grumbly about having his “heroics” lined out like this, but doesn’t hide them away.

“I mean, I didn’t want you getting hurt,” he mutters. “You know, you’re my sister. I gotta look out for you. It’s not a big deal.”

“But you’re mad at me.”

Two looks away, embarrassed that she’s bringing this up around the others. “Yeah, I am. But I still care. I’m not heartless or something. I still love you.”

Blue stifles some laughter between polite bites of food, which makes Two pout and dart his head her way to look at her.

“Come on, it’s not funny!” He gets flustered, though this only makes his sister giggle a bit. When he sees her smile, Two pauses and looks her over, before eventually calming down and continuing to peck at his food.

“I’m just glad everyone’s alright,” Pickle remarks between bites. “I’d hate to wake up and hear that Twelve went and attacked anyone else. What was up with him? I was minding my own damn business, wasn’t I?”

“He was just agitated watching us,” Lav relays in short. “He thinks we’re weak because we choose to make a home in our prison, and he’s mad that we’re able to be close with one another. But I really don’t want to keep talking about him right now.”

“Me either,” Three agrees. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

“How was that, exactly?” Eight speaks up from the end of the table to your right. “At what point were things better?”

“I…” Three gives a downtrodden look. However, Violet, who’s seated between you two, steps in and nudges her friend lightly.

“Tone it back a little,” she almost whispers. “It’s not a good time.”

Eight lowers his eyes back to his fork. “Right. I’m sorry. I think I’m a little stressed.”

“You? Stressed?” Blue laughs. “No way. You always look so stubborn and, like forlorn or something.”

Eight cocks a brow. “You realize that’s a bit of an insult.”

Cyrus smiles and leans forward to look at Eight. “I dunno, he wears a pretty bold face, but even he’s a human being.”

Eight frowns. “This insinuates that I wasn’t at some point. You sure you know how to cheer people up?”

“Hey, you could be an alien,” Pickle shrugs. “We’d never know.”

When all eyes are on him, Eight sighs. “I regret speaking.”

For the first time since Twelve left, everyone can’t help but laugh. It’s a mild distraction, but a good one nonetheless.

Twelve is eventually forgotten again, and even when all food has been eaten, nobody’s really in a rush to get up and leave. You wind up offering to take everyone’s trays back to the counter, though Five can’t help herself and offers to assist you. While at the counter, you try to talk a bit to Charlie as conversations at the tables fly.

He doesn’t really try to communicate with all the dishes being his priority, though he does offer you a few small, wrapped cookies to pass to the others as a treat. Five winds up taking most of them to deliver to the tables, while you stay behind to at least ask Charlie how he’s doing.

“You okay? You ask him, but after he’s taken the dishes, he doesn’t respond right away. You figure he’s just gone off for a bit, but rather than leave him, you wait for him to return. Eventually, you hear his familiar shuffling, only to notice that it’s a bit sluggish today.

“Charlie?” You call again. “You doing okay?”

It takes him a while to respond, but a paper eventually slides out, with a scraggly YES on it. Somehow, you don’t know how reassuring it is when he’s taking so long between answers now.

“Charlie?” You call him one more time, but he doesn’t really give any indication he’s heard you. Slightly worried, you lean in and try to speak to him more quietly. You know he’s still standing there. He hasn’t yet shuffled off yet, or else you’d have heard him. Again, you call with a soft voice, staring directly at the pane before your face as if it were a person.

You eventually hear the shuffling of a paper, but nothing emerges from the counter immediately.

It hardly matters. You suddenly hear Three call out to the others with concern, much to your confusion.

“What was that?!”

“What was what?” Pickle questions. “I didn’t hear anything.”

You listen in, but don’t bother turning yet and keep focused on Charlie for now. But when time passes and Three again asserts that she heard something, your attention is taken.

“I’m not crazy,” she promises. “Wait a minute, you’ll hear it again.”

Things go quiet for a little while longer, though you become increasingly concerned that Charlie isn’t really responding despite assuming he would, given the paper shuffling you heard. However, you find it hard to ignore the others now.

When you turn around, you catch your friends looking back toward the entrance of the cafeteria, some in the middle of finishing their treats while others have already long since been done. Evidently, they must have finally heard what Three was talking about, and are now completely alert. You guess you were far enough away not to have heard it yourself, though, because you have no idea what they’re on edge about beyond the description of “noise”.

“What do you think it was?” Blue questions. “It sounded like a crash.”

Eight’s hand, hanging slightly over the edge of the table, now tightly grips at it. “I don’t like this.”

Though you want to remain with Charlie, you can’t help but want to stick by the others now that they’re all standing up and abandoning everything on the tables.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him. “I should check on this.”

You feel bad leaving Charlie behind, but find the urge to group with the others and attempt to listen in on the supposed noises. There’s apparently another long pause before the crashing begins again, only this sounds slightly muffled. Alerted, the others all start heading to the entrance of the cafeteria. They gather by the now-open door, listening closely to the hall.

You hold onto Lav’s shoulder from behind and peek behind her, seeing nothing but the empty passageway beyond the door.

“What’s-“ Before you can really complete your question, you again hear what roused the others into a concerned state—a sort of clattering noise. This one also sounds muffled, and in fact you might not have heard either noise if not for the silence of the others.

“That’s quieter than it was a little while ago,” Three points out with fear in her eyes. “The first ones were louder.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Lav scrunches her brows. “It has to be.”

Eight tenses up when he gathers the same conclusion. “He’s doing something. Whatever it is, he’s going room to room for it.”

“Why do you think so?” Cyrus asks him, but Eight’s green eyes remain on one particular set of doors in the hall.

“Three just said the other crashes sounded different.”

This statement is what sends him and some of the others running across the hall, panicking about what might be happening. You can do little more than follow.

No doctors are in the hall, but it hardly matters. Eight leads everyone rather promptly into the music room, though by the way he’s running and pressing on so quickly, he’s hardly concerned about whether anyone is actually following him. You’ve never seen him this panicked before.

When the doors open, an array of damaged instruments and their open cases all over the floor is all you see—splintered and cracked string instruments, dented brass, and snapped woodwinds all over. Anything that wasn’t taken out of its case has been tossed off the shelf and onto the floor.

The mess trails off toward the main area of the music room, and slowly, Eight follows it. The others who rush in with him are shocked by the sight of the mess, but Six at least tries to warn Eight not to step into the room with broken pieces of wood and strings and bows all over the floor.

He doesn’t listen.

You can’t see his face to know just what he’s thinking or how he’s reacting, though you all quietly follow him into the room, gathering near the entrance and being put off to see the messy state it’s been left in. The shelves in the back have been knocked over, papers and journals torn up, and accessories strewn all over the floor with some damage to a few of them.

Twelve stands in the middle of the area, smashing a violin against a chair that’s been yanked out of the stack by the corner and tossed on the floor on its side. Twelve doesn’t quite yet notice you all, and proceeds to smash and smash and smash the violin until there’s nothing left of it but pieces.

Everything goes quiet once it’s over. Twelve simply stands straight and sucks in breaths as he finally notices you’re all behind him. He turns, still gripping the neck of the broken violin, and watches Eight as he falls to his knees in the rubble.

He says nothing, does nothing other than sit on his knees and go still, head hanging as he observes the mess before him Twelve stands above him, watching the young man’s defeated position with little sympathy.

You’ve never seen Eight act like this before. Not once has he ever given up like this. But seeing him this way now, you can’t help but come toward him and kneel by him. Your hand plants on his shoulder, and you call his name, but he does not respond.

Twelve stands watching you both with an unexpressive glare, but you don’t bother with him. You shake Eight, but he again ignores you. When you lean forward, you expect to see a teary face or an expression wrought with fury, but are taken aback when all you see is shock.

Eight looks as if he’s just seen a ghost, and is sitting there with wide eyes and an open mouth. His breaths are shallow, but they don’t sound like he’s going to cry. They sound like he’s in pain.

“Eight?” You again try to shake him, but he continues to stay silent. Seeing him like this breaks your heart, but also frightens you all the same. Something about his reaction is more than just shock. It looks more intense than you expected, but you can’t quite place just what about it is wrong. It’s not the Eight you know.

Violet joins you, hoping to stir her friend from his practically comatose state, but her gentle voice does nothing. She gives a pained grimace seeing him so hurt, and grabs the back of his hand tightly.

“You’ve gotta get up.” She pleads. “Move. Something.”

Twelve gives no remorse to what he’s done, and simply drops the broken violin neck onto the floor. You look up at him with a frightful eye, but neither of you are able to respond to each other before Three is heard gasping from behind you.

“The dolls!”

In an instant, she runs away, caring little about what shards of wood press at her heels as she makes her way out of the room even when she can’t help but flinch at the sensation. The others, though they want to stay with Eight, find themselves as equally concerned by Three’s outburst and follow her. Only Cyrus and Lav stay behind, though they don’t really try to call out to Eight or do more than flash each other worried glances.

You grimace seeing Eight so low, and hearing Violet try to get him to respond to her without success. But if she can’t do anything for him, neither can you. For now, you figure it’s best to leave him alone.

When you stand and try to get her to leave him be, Violet refuses.

“Just go check on her,” she says with a low voice. “I don’t want to leave him like this.”

You hardly fight her on it.

You, Lav, and Cyrus appear to be on the same page. The moment you start to head to them, they give their attention back to the rest of the group, and you all rush out to try meeting with them.

Entering the crafts room yields no better sight than what was in the music room. You have to sort of move to the side of the bunch of people standing at the entrance, but as soon as you can see beyond the wall of flesh and cloth, you see nothing short of a mess here too.

The low tables have been left alone aside from one that’s been shoved a few feet away, but everything else has been ravaged through and torn to bits. Supplies are out of their bins and strewn all over the floor. Packs of construction paper and scissors and pencils litter the once clean pink ground.

All of that could have been fine. You could have just picked up the pieces and put things away if you wanted. But it’s what’s intermixed with all the supplies that leaves you shaken the most.

Like with the instruments, every single piece or work that’s been created and had been resting against the wall is now ruined. Papers with drawings have been torn to shreds, as have the cardboard-bodied dolls. Anything that wasn’t torn to shreds is just bent or crumpled or poked through. Pieces from the dolls that were glued onto them have been ripped off. Even if you wanted to repair any of it, you wouldn’t be able to with how many pieces of everything there are just scattered about. You’d be sorting through this mess for ages if you tried.

Like in the other room, everyone sort of stands there just stunned. Five’s hand comes to her mouth as she gawks in terror at the ruined scene. The other Numbers behind and beside her simply scan the area over and over in disbelief.

You and Cyrus joined just after the rest of them, but you’re no less stunned by everything. Even for how clearly upset Lav is after walking in and seeing the mess, all she does is look on, dumbfounded. But it’s Three, standing ahead of all of you and looking on at the destruction, who is the first to react.

All she does is cry.

A burst of frustration and woe hits her all at once upon seeing everything she’s cultivated here with her friends just shattered like it was nothing. Rather than let out loud wails, she only sputters like an engine, shivering and sobbing into her hands.

Watching her hurts, but with the damage already having been done, you can’t really do much for her beyond surface comfort.

You don’t do anything but watch as her brother takes responsibility for her hurt and moves toward his sister. He says nothing as he steps her way, but decides to wrap his arm around her shoulder and lean her body against him. Rather than push him away in frustration or stay comatose in her blubbering, Three turns against him and clings to her brother as she had before, sobbing violently into his shirt.

Saying you fully understand how she feels might be inaccurate. You do feel devastated knowing that all your hard work at preserving the memory of those who have been left behind was, in mere moments, completely destroyed. The day you all came together to further populate this room was one of your brightest. And in a flash, it’s over.

But Three’s been here much longer, and she’s cultivated more here than you ever did. The pain of seeing everything she worked toward just to have something to distract herself from the horrors of this place getting completely destroyed must be insurmountable.

She’s a sensitive girl, but it’s also no wonder why she’d react like this. Eight too, for as different as his style of grief is. Or was it even grief? You aren’t sure with how strange he looked.

Five and Six attempt to move closer, but Five apparently thinks better of disturbing the twins, as she stops the momentum of herself and her sweetheart, instead opting to stand behind the two. Five’s hurting as much as Three, but she’s holding herself up much better. All she does is frump against Six’s shoulder and watch the sobbing girl before her with an empathetic look.

Pickle is the only one other than Two do brave getting right beside Three in her agonizing time of need. While he hesitates at first and glances at Two as if to ask “should I?”, he doesn’t let it stop him from at least placing a hand on the sobbing Three’s shoulder with a sympathetic touch.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t a part of all this, and yet he knows just as well as anyone the reason all this was done. Something about the way his amber eyes radiate hurt, you’re sure he understands. And even for as rickety as his relationship with Three has been, he extends his hand for her as she had for him earlier. Although Two gives him a woeful glance, he doesn’t express distaste at the act. Perhaps he’s grateful, but doesn’t know how to express it.

Nobody else really says anything, and so Three’s sobs overtake the air and sound all around the room.

You briefly turn your head to Cyrus and Lav beside you, only to see that one looks remorseful, and the other fed up. Cyrus’ bright eyes have averted to the floor, while Lav’s are filled with anger. Yet, she looks regretful all the same. You hope she isn’t still blaming herself for letting Twelve loose to begin with. Even Cyrus had said it wasn’t a bad choice, and that Twelve would have found a way to be terrible regardless.

You’d be feeling responsible if it were you, sure, but there’s nothing you could have done if Twelve was so hellbent on causing so much destruction. But as you eye the scene and everyone’s reaction to it, you can’t help but ask why it is that this was allowed to happen.

You’re so confused. Those goons in charge were willing to kill Twelve the other day. Why did they let this happen?

Was Gale the only one watching this time? Are The Overseer and Lucius away, then? But even then, couldn’t Gale have called for someone else to come stop Twelve?

Did they even want to?

As you eye the ceiling, you can only be reminded that Gale was never really fully on your side. They protected their own by distracting Twelve, but cared little to try stopping the source. They could have easily done so.

Unless they were ordered to let things run their course.

Your heart skips a beat upon also thinking that Lucius could be nearby again and you’d never know. What if he let this happen? But…why would he?

Your mind just runs and runs. You can’t pinpoint who’s at fault for this, or why this happened. You go through so many what-if’s and hypothetical situations, but no answer makes sense. Are they willing to kill Twelve, or aren’t they? Do they want to see what he’s capable of? Are they trying to get a reaction from all of you?

Why?

After running ideas in your head, you eventually realize that Lav and Cyrus have turned their bodies slightly. The twins and Pickle ignore it, but the peachy girlfriends and Blue do perk their heads up and turn toward the entrance. You wind up stepping back to turn toward the door yourself, expecting someone to be standing there. But it’s not the door that everyone’s looking at.

Just to its right, leaning against the wall, is a rather inexpressive Twelve. His arms are hanging at his sides, his emerald gaze focused on everyone in the room. However, you catch him looking a little too long at the loudly sobbing Three, even if she hardly acknowledges his presence herself.

He doesn’t look a single bit angry like he had before. All his fury has dissipated, taken out upon the rooms he’s trashed for now. All he does now is stand there, watching quietly at the scene before him. And, judging by how you hadn’t even heard him slip in, you presume he’s been standing there for a little while.

But now that he has eyes on him, he no longer cares to look anyone in theirs. All he does is look away, turning his head as if he’s unbothered by everything that’s going on. But something about his demeanor is different. It’s not genuine apathy. There’s something off about it. You couldn’t be convinced it was remorse, knowing how he is. But that’s the only word you can use to place it.

Nobody says anything to him. Not even Lav, who normally would be drilling into him for hurting someone she cared about. All she does is ball her fists, unball them, and sigh.

Without a word, she leaves. With Twelve so close to the door, she pushes into his shoulder intentionally before walking out of the room entirely. He does not react. Strangely, he still avoids looking her in the eye. When she’s gone, he just leans back against the wall and folds his arms, keeping his head turned and gaze elsewhere. His face tenses as he continues to hear Three’s sobs, but he does nothing.

One by one, the others leave, following Lav’s course of action. There’s nothing to say. Nothing to really do besides shun Twelve. You’re not sure it’s the best course of action, but as bodies start to file away from the scene and out the door, you’re also left unsure of whether you should stay.

Everyone but Cyrus, the twins, and Pickle leaves. Everyone glares angrily at Twelve as they do it, but nobody says a word, and the young man does not budge from his position. He keeps tensing up feeling such sharp eyes on him, but acknowledges none of them.

Your brows lower watching his reaction to all this, and you wind up breaking the silence with only the same word you’ve been doling out in your head.

“Why?”

Finally, Twelve turns to you. He does not smirk, nor glower, nor bare his teeth in annoyance at your question. He only looks at you without an expression.

This angers you. He won’t even justify you with an answer. Somehow, that pisses you off even more than just his smugness or his reckless fury. You step quickly toward him and raise your hand to slap him across the cheek, but find yourself freezing as you try.

You realize he’s given a subtle flinch, his eyes dropping off to the side as if he expected you’d try to hit him. Something about it rubs you the wrong way, and all you do is stand there with an open mouth and your hand hovering and trembling in the air.

You hadn’t realized Cyrus followed you closely, until his hand grabs hold of yours and lowers your arm gently. You don’t fight the gesture, and simply let him guide you away from the outburst you almost had.

“Don’t,” he gently urges, his other hand placed on your shoulder. “We need to go.”

You tremble, though you can’t tell if it’s anger that’s leading you to. All you do is let yourself take Cyrus’ word and opt to go with him. Together, you leave Twelve. Before you both head out, Cyrus calls out to Two, who only turns his head to Cyrus and gives a nod.

Nobody sticks around. Cyrus takes you away from the scene by your hand, while Two and Pickle guide the tearful Three away from the area too. Before you take off, you turn your head only to get a glimpse of Three looking over at Twelve with the same pleading question in her eyes that you asked him.

But there isn’t an answer.

---

None of the others really regroup after the incident. Eight and Violet stick together in the music room, not once coming out after you last saw them. While you have the urge to check on what they’re up to, you also know they’re the kind of people who prefer to struggle quietly before turning to someone else. You’re just glad Violet’s there to help take care of Eight. He trusts her, and as do you.

The twins and Pickle wind up going off on their own to the theater, but nobody bothers following them in lieu of letting them grieve together. While you want to believe Twelve is still at risk of pulling some grand stunt again, something about the way he looked before you left him alone makes you think he’s burnt out for the day.

You can’t fathom what he might have been thinking. You’re so mad at him you want to scream in his face or hit him, yet you’re not sure you even have the energy to.

You don’t even want to think about him. If he feels bad about what he did, which you doubt, then good. You hope he suffers inside knowing he hurt all of you so badly. But even though he tried to shake you, all this does is keep you closer together, and far away from him.

You wish you could blame The Overseer or Lucius or Lilah or Gale. Someone. Anyone. But all you feel is exhausted. You’re hurt. Everyone is.

The rest of you decide not to split up after what happened, temporarily meeting in the rec room to assess its state. Strangely, it was untouched after you left it. Even the pool cue was never really picked up after the first altercation with Twelve. Not like anyone cares to touch it now.

After everyone eventually calms down just a little from the ordeal, you all decide to check the other rooms to see if there was damage done. As it turns out, Twelve didn’t have a whole lot of time to ruin everything.

He ignored the gym and the pool. Not like there was really much of a mess to make there. The gardens, however, you’re surprised went untouched. Same with the library, though you assume that these rooms were largely unscathed only because Twelve didn’t have the time to get to them.

You feel as if you all left him alone for such a short time, and yet he managed to do so much damage even then. Or was it a short time? You can’t tell.

Perhaps it’s a good thing only those two rooms were messed up, but unfortunately, they were important to all of you. The music room was especially important to Eight, and now you wonder how he’ll manage without anything to play his songs on. Five and Six won’t get to continue their lessons either, and Lav won’t get to fiddle around with the viola and get teased by Eight. You feel bad for all of them.

Will the materials all get replaced? You hope so. It won’t be the same, and Twelve could easily ruin it all again, but maybe the chance to rebuild what was destroyed will give you all some peace of mind. Even a little.

Nobody talks of Twelve after what he did. Nobody even acknowledges his presence while the wound of his actions is still fresh. Unfortunately, it’s not so easy to move on from it this time either. Any attempt at jovial reconciliation after returning to the rec room is stunted, and all you can do is just make muddled and morose conversation as if you’re attending a funeral. Maybe a few casual remarks here and there, but the life has essentially been sucked out of most everyone.

Even so, there are some slight attempts to find positives. Mostly, it’s things you’ve already gone over. What-if’s and well-maybe’s more than anything. In the end, it only helps prevent you all from falling into a slump. But maybe that’s enough.

Eventually, a few of the others return to you all in the rec room. Pickle comes alone, but promises that the twins are okay. While you want to believe Two is only comforting his sister, you really don’t want to think that he might be resorting to old habits to do so. But it’s nothing you can do much for even if he is.

Eight returns with Violet too, only he doesn’t really say anything and just sits on the couch where he had before, while Violet remains seated on the armrest next to him. Neither of them are really engaging, but present. Perhaps Eight decided he didn’t want to be alone. When he’s closer to you, you can see subtle, dried specks on his glasses, which makes your heart sink when you realize why that might be.

He and Violet are made aware of what Twelve did and didn’t get to do. Neither of them look pleased. Angry, in fact. Blue herself winds up prattling on and on about how terrible Twelve is for what he did, verbalizing everything that everyone’s thinking.

While conversations go on, you look down at your hands and wonder just what you thought you could do to Twelve to make him pay for what he did. You were angry when you wanted to strike him, yet knew not only that your hit wouldn’t phase him, but that it wouldn’t make the situation better. You’re glad Cyrus helped take you out of the room, however, or you might have just stayed frozen there for a while.

You didn’t know you had it in you to want to hurt someone like that. But, maybe it’s because against another Number is the only way you’d get away with striking someone here. You couldn’t try it with anyone else, no less the doctors.

Twelve doesn’t want to be hurt any more than you do. You can see it in how he prepares to be stung with pain. He expects damage. He doesn’t know how to handle kindness. Maybe Eight was right to say that pain is probably not foreign to him. Even if he might not remember what happened before, there are things even Mnemosyne can’t erase. Does The Overseer understand that?

Still, you won’t let that be an apology for what Twelve did. You won’t forgive him for it. Not until he shows he’s sorry. Unfortunately, you’re not sure if Twelve ever will. Moreover, you’re not sure if he’ll have the opportunity.

Nobody has come to kill him or take him away. Nobody even came to stop him when he was doing all that damage behind your backs. Someone could have easily slipped in and done something about it. Yet he’s still here. Others weren’t so lucky. So why him?

And why you?

God, you don’t have the energy to start thinking about your own problems right now. You just decide to let it be.

For once, you all seem to look forward to the day’s end. When you’re all later called to be taken to your rooms, you do little more than say your goodbyes and file out one by one, although Violet looks as though she regrets having to leave Eight behind. While the others take off, only he, you, and Cyrus remain. You and Eight both sit on the couch by the game tables, while Cyrus sits on the floor ahead of you, hunching over and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Are you okay?” You question Eight now that he isn’t surrounded by so many people. He isn’t the kind of guy to like drawing attention to his feelings, but you hope at least being in a smaller group makes it easier to try. However, he shakes his head.

“I have nothing to say,” is all he leaves you with. You wind up biting your lip.

“I’m so sorry. I know how much that place meant to you.”

“It wasn’t all I had.” The answer only takes you aback. Seeing your confusion, Eight sighs.

“It hurt. I won’t pretend it didn’t. Music is important to me. It guides me. But it isn’t all I am. I’ll find a way through it. I always do.”

You frown. “You worried me back there. You looked horrified. Not angry.”

“I was in shock,” Eight mutters. “My head was swirling when I saw it all. I felt like vomiting, and when you all left, I did. I had a bit of time to come down from it thanks to Violet, but now I just feel empty.”

He then turns to Cyrus and subtly glowers. “You’re going to forgive him, aren’t you?”

The bitter remark leaves Cyrus looking away. “I will. In time.”

“Why?” Eight struggles to understand. “Why do you have to act like everyone deserves to be forgiven for things they do?”

Cyrus’ eyes close. “It gives me peace. I don’t have much of that here. I won’t stop you from feeling the hate you do. I won’t judge anyone for reacting the way they do. I only hope you can find your own peace. No matter how it is you find it.”

“You sound so goddamned pretentious,” Eight huffs. Cyrus does not let these words phase him.

“I only know what works for me, Eight. Do as you like. But right now, it’s clear to me that you’re in pain. I’m sorry you’re hurting, and that you had to lose something so important to you. But if it makes you feel better, they’ll replace everything eventually. They did last time.”

Eight simply looks off to the side. “That isn’t what’s bothering me.”

“Then what?”

Though Eight’s the one who brought it up, he doesn’t really give an answer. He just goes quiet and leans back against the couch, arms folded. Once you and Cyrus have waited long enough without him procuring a response, you decide to move on.

“Why didn’t they take him?” You question, mainly to Cyrus. His passing blue-eyed glance is all you need to see to know he was wondering the same thing. But you guess the reminder of what he witnessed a long time ago is enough to bring him back down again. Still, he remains composed.

“I’m not sure,” is his brief answer. Solemn, as you expected. “Not like replacing everything will be so hard on their wallets if they’re rich enough to afford upkeep in a place like this.”

“I doubt they were upset because of damage to easily replaceable resources. With how you’ve talked of him, I’d imagine they were looking for a reason to get rid of Four,” Eight guesses, finally breaking his silence. “Maybe he was already past due.”

“Don’t do that!” Cyrus snaps, voice riddled with hurt. “Four wasn’t crazy or sick. He was in pain.”

Eight is taken aback by his friend’s sudden lashing out, but attempts to recollect himself after a brief pause. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dishonor the memory of someone you cared about. I know I’m mean when I’m hurt, but I’m not trying to be now. I just think that it’s not impossible or too out-there to say that the others weren’t as important as we are. We’re still here when we have every reason not to be. I know that’s a nasty truth to someone who suffered watching his friends drop like flies, but…”

Cyrus calms himself down and looks down at the floor. He doesn’t seem convinced that Twelve is a potential exception. “Nine told me about what happened when I was out. And about the man Ten saw. There’s no way his intent wasn’t to kill Twelve. I’d expect he’s seen as expendable as any of us. I just don’t get it.”

If only you could tell him how untrue that was. Eight has a point, even though Cyrus does too. You can’t make heads or tails of what the intent of Lucius’ presence was. He doesn’t just reveal himself without reason.

But surely Cyrus has some suspicion that he’s alive for a reason, and that such a reason could easily extend to others. Maybe he’s just reacting through his emotions rather than reason. For something that was so important to him and caused so much grief, you can understand that.

“Killing isn’t always the immediate response,” Eight argues. You notice that after he got a bad response out of Cyrus, he tries to keep his voice calm again. “Fear is a tactic to instill obedience too. Why else are we so afraid to act out like that? Why else are we so hesitant to act against someone here who’s clearly out of line?”

You glower hearing him say this, reminded only of Lucius. “I’ve heard something similar before.”

Cyrus looks over at you. “When you were gone.”

Though you can’t really relay more about it, you’re stricken by the accurate guess. Although you freeze at first, you do muster a quiet nod.

While you want to keep talking with both young men, you’re left having to cut things short when you hear more commotion again. At first, you perk up alert as panic about what might be happening washes over you. Maybe you expect it to be Twelve destroying more things or hurting someone, but when you remind yourself there’s probably a lot of doctors in the hall right now, your panic shifts to the idea of them hurting Twelve instead.

Why do you care?

You shouldn’t when you’re so angry at him for what he did. But at the same time, nobody deserves being hurt by these people. Even him.

You exchange glances with Eight and Cyrus, but you all do decide to go check on the noise. That is, until your brain kicks into gear and you remember why that’s a bad idea. You remind them that Yosuke could be waiting for you, and him seeing you with your friends might get him riled up. If not that, then him waiting to get you and being worried because of whatever’s happening outside might lead him to coming in to get you, which would be just as bad.

Though neither Eight nor Cyrus seems keen on letting you go alone, they allow you to and say their gloomy goodbyes. You can’t help but feel bad seeing them so down after everything that went on today, but you’d be lying if you didn’t say you felt the same.

Upon exiting the rec room, you see precisely who you expected—Twelve is being pinned down on the floor with his hands about to be bound again by his doctor. Lilah isn’t wearing her coat, and her hair is loose this time rather than pinned up like usual. With her being hunched over Twelve and holding him down, her dyed locks are falling all over her back and bare shoulders.

Lilah’s teeth are bared as she grits them trying to fight Twelve, who expectedly is attempting to fight back. He’s wriggling and groaning and grunting beneath her, but with his hands already pinned behind him, and his legs useless under his doctor’s weight, he’s at a disadvantage. You’re quite shocked someone like Lilah who is so frail is able to hold her own against someone as bastardly stupid strong as Twelve. It’d be impressive, if she weren’t so scary.

All of Twelve’s movements just cause his cheek to press and roll against the cold floor. Unfortunately, with how he’s facing, you’re right in his line of sight. He only catches a glimpse of you, but his eyes are riddled with fury again. Not at you, but in general. Whatever it was he was feeling before when everyone left him in the messy crafts room is gone now that he’s fighting Lilah so aggressively.

“Little shit!” Lilah barks, gripping her Number’s wrist and pressing hard against it. “If you weren’t entertaining to beat the fuck out of, I’d be throwing you into a fire right now!”

Most of the other doctors have already taken their Numbers away, but your own is, unfortunately as you expected, standing a bit behind the gate from where you’re looking, and gazing upon the scene with a curious brow.

Mom is also watching from near the records office door, arms folded and eyes unsympathetically set on the young man writhing on the floor. You suppose Monica’s busy with Pickle, but the lack of a presence you trust even a little is disheartening.

“Are you really so shocked that you have to put in the effort dealing with him?” Mom questions her enemy. “Or are you just not used to having to care?”

“Shut up,” Lilah shoots back with a turn of her head. “Think I can’t handle it or something?”

She manages to get the cuff around Twelve’s wrists and snaps it shut. Having successfully gotten Twelve cuffed, she sits up and lets out a sigh of relief.

“I suppose it’s brave of you to deal with such a worthless thing,” Mom brushes this off. “I certainly wouldn’t want to put up with another person who’s as bad as you. But it seems he’s made for you.”

Despite her fury before, Lilah gives a tired huff of laughter. “You mean you wouldn’t know how to deal with them. You like to take the easy road. It’s why you go for such fragile shits like that boy of yours.”

Mom smiles. “Boys.”

Finally, Yosuke’s olive eyes catch sight of you standing by the now shut rec room doors. Without wasting a moment, and now that there’s not so much commotion on the floor, he opts to walk past the bound Twelve and bickering Lilah, toward you. With both Mom and Lilah fixated on their little quarrel, they hardly pay his passing any mind.

“What, like that’s a flex? He just gave you more work.”

“Well, I’m not the one wrestling my Number on the ground, dearie. And my, don’t you look just darling on your hands and knees trying to wrangle that brat.”

You ignore the bickering as your doctor draws closer, your nervous eyes focused only on him. You hate knowing Twelve is watching him too. You’d hate to think he’d associate you with the doctors because you’re talking to them—he just doesn’t understand the circumstances, nor would he listen even if you told him.

Yosuke frowns seeing your face.

“You seem frightened,” he observes. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. It’s not really a “no” but it isn’t a “yes” either. More of a dodging response. But, of course, Yosuke catches on quick.

“Mm.” He hums slightly, as if in disapproval. His hand grazes your jawline as he examines your face. “Did something happen?”

“No.” Your response is quick, but perhaps too quick. Yosuke turns his body slightly and looks down at Twelve, who in turn is still staring right back up at your doctor. By now, Lilah has gotten off of him and is arguing with Mom while her Number remains motionless. You expected he’d try to run, but even he seems to know he’s outnumbered right now. You guess he chooses not to be stupid sometimes.

“Just take me back,” you plead quietly, tugging at your doctor’s sleeve in an attempt to take his attention. “Y-you can sleep in my bed with me. Okay?”

You hate giving him the invitation, but are desperate to keep his attention off the young man. Though, Twelve apparently misconstrues this gesture and looks at you with disgust. You grimace knowing you’re just making things worse. But either option you have right now isn’t great.

Yosuke watches him as if attempting to search for an answer to some question you don’t know. But before he can really do or say anything, Mom calls out to him.

“Yosuke, honestly, don’t waste your time with that boy,” she scoffs. “The sooner Lilah gets out of my sight and takes him away, the better off we’ll be.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Lilah snaps back. “You like having someone here to shit all over. It’s why you’re so good at beating people when they piss you off. You’ve got a lot pent up in that head of yours, sweetie. If you used that energy better, maybe I’d take less of an issue. But all you do is insist on pretending to be everyone’s mommy.”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand my fascinations any more than I can understand yours. A sadomasochist like you is just crying for attention because she had a bad childhood. Isn’t that always the case with you damaged little shits?”

Lilah glowers. “Don’t even go there. You pull your claws out, I’ll pull out mine. Want me to point out how barren you are despite thirsting to be a parent? You’re just a surrogate mother. Not even that, really.”

Mom’s fists tighten, but she stifles her anger. Her lips press tightly together, brows scrunching up as she tries to hold in her reaction. Lilah watches her closely, anticipating an outburst as If she wants it.

“You’re a terrible little girl, Lilah,” Mom forces herself to speak.

“Wrong. I’m a woman now.” Lilah gives a sharp look of her icy eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

Mom drops her arms and lets them hang at her side. “You don’t know what it is to be a woman. You never grew up.”

Lilah’s face does not change. She continues to shoot daggers at Mom with her gaze. Uncharacteristically, she stays quiet and stews in her fury. But rather than give her a chance to eventually speak, Mom tries to perk up again and gives a sweet smile.

“Well, what an unpleasant conversation. But if you want to go ahead and waste my time, then fine,” she says in a sing-songy tone. “I’ll waste yours. I didn’t want to have to resort to it, but I suppose it’s worth bugging you. Yosuke?”

Your doctor had tuned out of the conversation after the brief call to his attention turned into another quick squabble, but now he looks at Mom again with a rather unamused face. You can tell he’s tired of this.

He doesn’t respond, but Mom turns her head to him and keeps up her pink smile. “Do you know what that pesky boy did the other day?”

Your eyes widen. Please don’t!

But it’s already too late for wishful thinking. Mom is already set on her decision. She said she didn’t want to bother Yosuke with this issue, yet she’s completely gone back on this just to spite Lilah.

“He hurt your sweet little girl, Yosuke,” she giggles. “Pinned her right against the wall and started choking her. I think that’s rather unacceptable, don’t you?”

Yosuke does not react outright, but he does set his olive eyes upon Twelve with immense disdain. His look is subtle, but tense.

Again, you try to tug at his shirt, but he does not take his eyes away for even a second.

“Is that so?” His voice, though calm, is grave in a way you recognize. You tug and tug and tug pointlessly at his sleeve, even lean against him like an obedient thing. He keeps ignoring you, though his hand does cup against the back of your head.

Lilah ignores him and proceeds to bend herself slightly down and yank her Number up by the hair like before, as if she’s eager to get out of the hall. You can’t tell if she’s mad about what was said to her, or if she wants to avoid Yosuke. You’d believe either.

But whatever her intent is, she doesn’t get far with it.

“Do you have some kind of plan for him?” Yosuke questions. Immediately, Lilah rolls her eyes and gives a sharp answer.

“Don’t dance around it, Yosuke. Ask me what you really want.”

Twelve’s teeth grit as he grunts in pain over her tight grip. His knees bend and buckle as she pulls him up to a standing position, and he stumbles to try balancing himself.

Yosuke eyes him with tight lips and a furrowing brow.

“I want to see him.”

“Yosuke, please,” you try to stop him. You’re shivering for some reason. When did you start?

“Like you have it in you,” Lilah scoffs. “You’re not the type.”

“Come now, do give him a chance,” Mom giggles. “He’s not going to let it go. I know my cutie doctor well. When his pretty little girl is threatened, he’ll step in if he knows he can. Sometimes even when he knows he shouldn’t.”

Lilah grumbles. “Wasting my damn time. Happy?”

“Very.” Mom smirks. “Although I do admit I love seeing him act so protective.”

Lilah looks angrily over at Mom, then back to Yosuke. Then, to your dismay, at you.

“If it’ll get you two to leave me alone, I’ll allow it. But the runt has to watch.”

“No.” Yosuke nearly cuts her off with how quickly he answers. But Lilah does not budge.

“You’re doing this for her anyway,” she scoffs. “I want her to see it. Treating her like a baby isn’t going to do her any good. Frankly, you don’t have a choice. Last I heard, you weren’t supposed to be able to stop us from doing what we want.”

Finally, Yosuke’s eyes move from Twelve and fall upon you. His head tilts down so that he can look at you more clearly, but Lilah doesn’t allow him a long time to think on things.

“I’ve got someplace I need to be, so I’m not going to wait for you to decide. Do we have a deal, or not?”

---

The room feels colder than you remember. Maybe it’s the steel surface of the table you’re sitting on, one like you were laid down on when Micah saw you once. Maybe it’s because you’re tired and your body temperature is on the fritz. Or maybe it’s the feeling of Lilah’s cold hands on your shoulders, nails digging into the cloth of your gown and the skin at your nape.

Maybe.

You sit there with your head whirling, eyes darting around the room at anything else you can—a folded white coat by your side, a few random small machines covered in cloth around the edges of the room, blood on the dark floor.

Blood…

You’ve tried everything to avoid seeing it, but when you hear the loud contact of skin against skin, of knuckle against skull, of loud grunts of pain, your eyes immediately dart back to the horrible scene before you.

You flinch with each punch as if you’re the one who’s being attacked, but Lilah’s hands on your shoulders only curl their fingers deeper against your skin, nails digging into both it and the cloth over it as she catches your reaction.

From behind, she leans down and hovers her dark lips by your ear. Some of her hair falls over your shoulder and tickles at what skin it touches by your neck. You jump slightly at the sensation, but otherwise stay completely frozen with your hands tightly gripping at one another. So much so that you’re scratching against your flesh hard, as if the pain will wake you up from the shock of watching your doctor beat Twelve repeatedly.

Lilah’s voice is low, but she speaks softly in a way you’ve never heard her before. “You should be grateful that’s not you, little girl.”

Yosuke grips onto a dazed Twelve’s shoulder and pins him against a wall with one hand. Still woozy from being hit, Twelve is unable to really fight back like usual. When Yosuke raises his other fist and holds it back, all Twelve can do is look at it as it comes down and strikes him.

Blood that had already started dripping down his lip splatters further along your doctor’s fortified knuckle.

You can’t see Yosuke’s face. Hair keeps falling at his cheeks as he beats Twelve, but you’re not so sure you want to see the fury in his eyes again anyway. All you can do is shiver where you’re sitting and beg for it all to end.

Yosuke’s arm raises again, and he punches Twelve over and over and over until there’s more blood on the boy’s face than visible skin. And with his hands still bound, he can’t even attempt to protect himself. All he does is turn his head to avoid getting his teeth or nose broken.

It’s a horrible sight, but then there are the noises.

You tremble with each cry of pain Twelve lets out, with each forceful groan and heavy breath that escapes his nose. And when Yosuke tires of his face and moves to uppercutting the boy’s stomach over and over, you are forced to hear a flurry of wheezes.

You want to beg him to stop, but know he wouldn’t listen. Between all the frustration with being put down, Mom’s obsessive behavior, The Overseer’s restrictions, Lucius’ sick games, and your being hurt, there’s little reason for Yosuke to stop.

You suck in breaths through your mouth, heart beating wildly as you’re forced to watch your doctor let everything out on Twelve.

You can’t even think about how long you’ve been here before Twelve’s body eventually crumples to the floor. But even that doesn’t stop Yosuke, and he proceeds to kick and stomp hard at Twelve’s side even when he’s gone limp.

Lilah lets him go at Twelve without much issue, but the moment he’s down, she pushes off you and stands straight. “That’s enough.”

When Yosuke doesn’t immediately listen, Lilah repeats herself more aggressively.

“I said that’s enough! I don’t want him dead yet! Geez!”

Only then does your doctor stop and observe the mess he made of Lilah’s Number.

There’s blood smeared and splattered pretty much everywhere on Twelve’s face, with some of it having gotten on his shirt wherever Yosuke grabbed him or where it splattered upon contact. With how limp he is on the floor, you’re afraid that Yosuke might have overdone it.

“You still alive?” Lilah questions so nonchalantly. She leaves you and passes Yosuke to kneel by her Number, grabbing his hair and turning his head to check for signs of life. When she notices he is still sucking in slow breaths, she shrugs.

“Yeah, you’ll live. But now I gotta clean after your ballsy ass. Christ.”

Yosuke says nothing, though Lilah continues on and addresses him. Her head turns slightly so she can see his frame towering above her.

“You’re a little more than I expected,” she notes, almost curiously. “I know we’re all pretty fucked up here, but you never struck me as the kind of guy who’d do this. Still, you really ought to learn to balance that shit out or else you do more damage than you need to.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes at her own hypocritical words. “Big coming from me, I get it. But my point is: When someone says stop, you stop. That’s the least a guy like you can do.”

Your doctor says nothing, garnering a bothered sigh from Lilah. She nods her head toward the door to her left. “Wipe off and get out. I gotta make sure nothing’s broken.”

“Broken?” You’re left scraping at the scratches on your hands hearing Yosuke’s voice finally drone out. It sounds low and haunting.

“Got his stomach stomped on by Vanessa,” Lilah reports. She waves one hand around, gesturing to you and Twelve both. “Whatever it is that happened between these two led to her attacking him. Not like that bothers me, but obviously there was already damage from her on top of the damage from me. I don’t want him unusable, you know. I may be aggressive, but I’ll pull away if I really have to. You, though? Not sure about you.”

“I suppose I see why this entertains you.”

You notice once he’s finished with Twelve, he no longer acknowledges his presence. Yosuke just keeps opening and shutting his hands, flexing his fingers as he comes down from the relentless attacks. His eyes scan the blood all over him, but he gives no indication of a response to the sight.

Lilah laughs. “Come on. You don’t know shit. You’re just a guy with pent up rage who got a chance to see what it’s like to take it out on someone other than yourself. If you’d have popped your cherry a little sooner, maybe you’d have been more respectable. But believe me, someone like you shouldn’t make this kind of thing a habit unless they know what they’re doing. I didn’t really want you here, but I figured I’d see what you look like getting a little taste of what’s essentially a breath of fresh air for some of us.”

She raises her brow then. “Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Yosuke does little more than give a short “hm” in response.

Lilah leaves your doctor with her harsh words before going back to tending to her Number. Yosuke says nothing else, evidently not willing to deal with her any longer than she’s willing to deal with him. He leaves her, heading instead to a nearby cabinet to wipe his hands and arms off. Even having rolled up his sleeves, Twelve’s blood managed to find its way onto them, and onto the bottom of his blue dress shirt. From where you are, they almost look like black dots.

A knock is eventually heard against the door, but Lilah doesn’t acknowledge it until it comes again. With a huff, she goes to check on the noise and finds Micah there once the door opens.

“You’re late, you know,” is all he says.

You don’t turn toward the entrance, staring only at Twelve’s crumpled body on the floor.

Yosuke doesn’t budge from his task, carrying it out in total silence, his face calm and even-tempered even despite the aggression just a moment ago. You reel with how casual about it he is. All he did was beat Twelve for touching you. He and the other doctors outside of The Overseer’s room might not yet know just what mess Twelve made in the recreational areas today, and you’re not so sure what will befall him once they do. You dare not mention it anyway.

“I had a setback,” Lilah waves Micah’s words off. You hear her slam her hand against the door frame, and you assume she’s pinned her arm against it to keep Micah from waltzing in like he probably would. “You can afford to wait, can’t you?”

Micah chuckles as he observes the room from the door. “Why is it every time I come in here you have some weird shit going on?”

“You talked to Vanessa, didn’t you?” Lilah doesn’t buy his question.

“Yeah, but I was hoping you’d explain it better to me than she did.”

Sighing, Lilah walks away from the door and goes back to dealing with Twelve. She doesn’t bother gloving her hands to touch him, letting blood smear all over her digits as she gives him more of a lookover. Yosuke ignores the two on the other side of the room, though they hardly bother acknowledging him either.

Micah stands above the two bodies on the floor, but as Lilah speaks to him, you catch him staring over at you with a curious brow. It’s not a long glance, but it’s enough to disturb you anyway. Though, after he’s given it, Micah ignores you too.

You want to tell them to get away from Twelve, but figure he needs the medical attention given how fucked up he is right now. Lilah doesn’t care for the guy, but she’s bothering to make sure he’s not severely damaged and is able to heal. You’ll count that as a minor blessing.

Still, this didn’t need to happen. Even for as mad as you were at Twelve for everything he did, this wasn’t what you wanted. Even if he’s been a pain in everyone’s ass, he didn’t deserve this.

But Yosuke is what concerns you most of all, because the longer you side eye him wiping blood off his skin, the more you fear him for what he’s done.

When his hands are at least somewhat clean of blood aside from a few stray streaks, he puts the dirtied towels on a nearby counter and steps your way. He covers his body in his coat again, and the sides of it are enough to hide some of the blood on his shirt.

Your eyes dart to the floor, to anywhere but him. When you feel his hand meet your head, you wince in response. Even so, he continues to touch you, lips spreading into a kind smile as if nothing was wrong.

He says nothing, but picks up one of your hands to observe the red scratches you left on it in your fright. He rubs a thumb along it, assessing the surface damage, but does not think it necessary to do more than keep you from scratching further.

His body, thus touch, is warm from the activity, and he’s got a small bit of sweat on the sides of his face, though most of it has started to cool and dry. The way he hovers above you leaves light blocked from your view, and so he casts a shadow over your body.

You recoil feeling his thumb swipe across your trembling hand and his digits pressing lightly against your palm as he holds it. You don’t want to feel his touch after that. You don’t want to be near him.

But he doesn’t give you a choice. He drops your hand and makes his move to take you back to your room. You sort of push away from him when he hunches down to pick you up, but the gesture only makes his actions rougher. He moves forcefully, taking hold of you with a stronger grip and clasping your body against his. He doesn’t hesitate to hoist you up and clutch your body tightly. Once you feel him holding you with a tight grip, you stop fighting and just huddle against him, eyes wide with shock as the image of him beating Twelve to a pulp remains fresh in your mind. You avoid talking, though aren’t certain you’d be able to right now anyway.

Micah and Lilah have been talking back and forth a little while, but you haven’t heard a word they’ve said with your focus on Yosuke. But now that you’re up, you’re able to look over at them and Twelve on the floor, listening in on their discussion. Yosuke only looks over to observe them as you do.

“Looks bad,” Micah assesses as he folds his arms. “You sure you don’t wanna get a better look at him?”

“He’s a tough little shit,” Lilah refuses him. “He’ll be fine. I just wanna get out of here.”

“Not to sound like a boy scout, but I don’t think the boss will be super cool about you not taking care of this one and making sure there wasn’t any important damage. Might be better to get him checked out If you wanna avoid another lecture. Besides, you’ve gotten your ass beat before, yeah? You know how it goes. Didn’t mommy or daddy ever take care of you? Show you how it’s done?”

Lilah doesn’t take the words well, and smacks Micah’s calf with the back of her hand. A bit of blood gets on his white pants, much to the man’s disdain “Dick. Like I don’t know how to do this. But fine. if I’m gonna waste my time with this, then you’re helping me.”

She ignores his question, you notice.

Despite the mild annoyance at his plans being delegated, Micah starts to cock a smirk. “You just want her to see me with you.”

“If it’ll piss her off. Now help me, or get out.”

Lilah doesn’t answer with much else, nor does Micah argue against her demands since he apparently thinks it best not to let Twelve go untreated. He starts to move away from the young man’s body to procure more things from the cabinets, leaving Twelve more completely open to your view.

You can’t shake your gaze from him. You only get to see him for a moment before Yosuke decides to leave, but his eyes are closed, and his bleeding mouth is open. You have no idea if he’s fully conscious, but anxiously worry that his eyes will open suddenly and that he’ll watch you with that angry glare like he did earlier. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

You can only hope he’ll be fine and bounce back as quickly as he’s been said to. For now, you’re left with your doctor. Yosuke continues to stay quiet, finally ferrying you out of the room and back to your usual routine. You’re still so out of it and panicked over watching everything happen that you just feel the pulse in your head whooshing in your ears.

Yosuke was holding in a lot of anger, but he’s always been able to feign composure. The times he’s let his fury slip through the cracks enough to act out have been frightening. When he hurt Mom, when he hurt you, and when he took hold of Cyrus were all moments that left you so afraid he’d do much worse. But always, he regained his senses.

This time was different. This time was worse. You couldn’t even stop him by acting like the little toy he wants you to be.

He seems okay after having gotten his frustrations out, but that doesn’t mean that he’s completely fine. You know this isn’t a good sign. You know that if there’s another reason for him to do this, that if he doesn’t control it, it could be so much worse.

And then Twelve…when he recovers, he’s going to vilify you further. His mind might tell him that this is all your fault. You’re not ready to deal with that if it happens. There’s always a chance he’ll just ignore or avoid you, but that’s also not the most practical of thoughts when he’s shown himself to be aggressive and act first before thinking.

Still, you feel terrible for him. This wasn’t your fault, but it wasn’t entirely his despite having done what he did. Mom only spoke up just to bother Lilah, taking little care about the consequence this would have on Twelve or Yosuke.

Or you.

You’re afraid of him. You don’t want to see him like this. You don’t want to deal with him if this is how he’s going to be. The Overseer wants you to keep him occupied and in line. How are you supposed to do that now?! Yosuke ignored you. That means he can easily do it again if something else has enough of his attention.

Once you’ve made it to the room, Yosuke lays you down, and everything proceeds the way it usually does. Not once does he bring up what happened, not once does he let his smile falter. He only has you now.

Feeling his touch on your scalp leaves you shivering and curling up with the comforter. Gripping its edges so tightly makes the skin on the back of your hand stretch, which stings the scratches you gave yourself. You don’t really care. You just want to cling to something right now.

Yosuke remains quiet, petting you gently with long strokes as he tries to comfort you. It hardly works, and all you do is shut your eyes and pray for him to go away.

He lingers for a long time, touching and touching and touching you. It’s not clear if he’s doing it for satisfaction, or to regain his senses after what he did.

“You smell like blood.” Your voice is hushed, but it’s clear Yosuke has heard you.

“Dear,” he calls to you with a low voice. “Don’t be scared. You know why I did this. Had I the choice, I’d never have let you see it happen.”

You say nothing else to him, leaving your doctor to exhale through his nose.

After a long silence, he lets you be. His petting of you has gone on so long that the warmth of his hand and the memory of its soothing sensation lingers on your head even after he’s retracted it.

“Try to get some sleep. Forget about tonight.”

I can’t.

But you wind up keeping your eyes shut anyway and ignoring Yosuke. He lingers at your bedside just a bit longer, watching you until he no longer has it in him to, and he leaves you with a kiss on your head. While he doesn’t really leave immediately in lieu of more properly washing himself of blood in your bathroom, he does at least let you be. Once clean, he finally takes his leave. Only when the door is heard shutting behind him do you open your eyes again.

You didn’t want this. You knew it might have happened if he ever found out about what Twelve did, but you never expected it to be this intense.

Yosuke’s sicker than you thought. And as you lay alone, you wonder if he’s really able to keep himself in check as much as he says. After today, you fear that his behavior could become worse, so much so that even you, the object of his obsession, won’t be able to reach him anymore.

With the way Yosuke said he was raised and how he’s always put up with other people’s shit, you always took him as a reserved person. Someone who was forced into obedience who wouldn’t act out and who valued keeping to one’s self. But this ordeal doesn’t make you particularly confident that this is the case anymore.

He’s been changing since you met him. He still tries to be his old self, but now he’s shown even more than before how capable he is of letting himself hurt other people in anger. It’s something you knew, yet never thought would get worse. He always let his outbursts be quick and subtle. This wasn’t anything like that. And if he doesn’t nip this in the bud sooner, he could do so much worse.

Yosuke said he does what he does for you. He did to Twelve what you’re sure he’s wished he could do to those who’ve put him down, and to those who’ve impeded his attempts to claim you.

You fear what else he could be capable of. But then again, you hope you never find out.

Chapter 90: Mute

The days following the incident were tame, yet tense.

The morning after you’d watched Twelve get beaten was only pleasant while you couldn’t fully remember what had happened. When you finally came to and the memory washed over you, everything just felt numb again. Curled up in your comforter, you laid still even when you heard Yosuke arrive.

He proceeded like always: taking care of you, feeding you. But you did nothing and said nothing. His presence left you unnerved, yet Yosuke did everything to carry on without ever bringing up the incident, or even acknowledging your fear of him after the fact.

You didn’t want to forget about it or drop it. You shouldn’t have had to. But the only reason you let it go on the surface was for your own sake.

You can recall being handed a cup of milk once, and the moment you felt the glass touch your palms, it’s as if you attempted to channel all your grief and fear over recent events into it. Only, you were so swirling with emotions in the moment, that you wound up dropping the thing and letting it fall forward, roll off your leg, off the bed, and onto the floor where it ungracefully shattered and splashed all its contents everywhere.

Yosuke did not get upset with you.

You recall starting to sob after what happened. Yosuke only held onto you, and you leaned into him like he wanted, even with how much the sound of his murmurs made you shiver.

The days from that moment were all quiet. As far as your group was concerned, nobody had much to say, nor wanted to acknowledge what happened with Twelve. However, you all noticed quite immediately when he didn’t come back after the fact, and you all had the same question burning in your minds. One that never left your own lips, even though you wanted it to.

You counted the first few days. One, two, three. But after that, you gave up and forced yourself not to pay attention. You instead tried to keep yourself attentive to the other Numbers. You all ended up feeling bad about it, but the moment Twelve was gone, things got to some semblance of normal again. Or, normal as they could be, with everyone still so shaken up by what happened.

Though you had all been together at first, the days following Twelve’s destruction were just peppered with random Numbers instead. Nobody was quite as jovial as they were before. Even Two, for all his tendencies to replace tragedy with humor and light, remained quiet at first. He only comforted his sister when she needed him, but otherwise sat around with Blue by the TV, or else talked with Pickle. Only with him was Two able to smile.

With the destruction Twelve caused, the two rooms of many that people relied on to bring them comfort were closed. Every day that passed without Twelve’s presence, you stood before the doors of both rooms, looking up and waiting for them to open, but they never did. They’d been locked shut.

A few times, others joined you, but they’d just walk away when they realized going in, or even hoping to, was pointless. Cyrus came once, though he urged you to just come back with him elsewhere and stop focusing on the grim.

“It’s not a good idea,” he told you, before guiding you away to the gardens. You were admittedly grateful for the scene change, and that he chose the gardens specifically. Regardless of the bitter memories of your time here, the flowers were still a welcome sight. You wound up leaning against Cyrus and observing the various petals and stems on each plant, attempting to pretend you were really outside, even if fooling yourself was impossible. You had memories of the outside in the form of dreams. This could never compare.

Another day, you sat with a few of the girls watching movies and listening to them chatter on idly as if things were fine. But the stresses in their voices led you to believe they weren’t quite as unbothered as they let on. And when they tried to talk with you, it was hard for you to play pretend too.

As you sat on the couch, you could see Three sleeping her woes away on the floor, laying on her stomach and letting the lulling sounds of a romantic movie sway her. Five had been holding her for a while, but her companion chose to rest her eyes at some point. It hurt to see Three like that, given she was always so glued to the TV when these kinds of movies were on. But since her breakdown, she started resting more often. She became sluggish, and you weren’t the only one to notice.

Five’s presence was no coincidence, as she glued herself to the girl as often as she could to give her comfort where Two could not. Your only hope after that day was that the rooms would be restored soon, so that Three would have something to keep her occupied from whatever thoughts she started having.

You guessed even Two’s capacity to help her was limited now. But that hardly meant he stopped trying. Whenever they were in the recreational areas together, often, they would go off alone for a little while, much to Pickle’s disappointment whenever he was also present. Still, he seemed to understand the siblings’ need to be alone, even though you couldn’t help but wonder again if those bad habits you thought about the other day were surfacing again.

Pickle’s usual chipperness was also affected, you found. He was quiet more often, only perking up when Two was around and available, as if only his presence was what it took to make Pickle happy the way it took Pickle’s presence to make Two happy. A dangerous idea, given the relationship Two and Three had whenever Three was in her reliant state. You thought at first Pickle might be turning to the same reliance, but found he was much more adept at handling his woes than Three, just equally as inept at hiding them. Even when Pickle had to take some time to be alone, if someone tried to rouse him into a conversation, he wouldn’t leave them hanging, and he would smile for them.

A few times, you saw Cyrus and Eight talking with one another. You never really interrupted their conversation unless someone waved you over, but you could only guess just what they might have been discussing. At some point, Eight understood just what question was in your eyes every time you saw him with Cyrus, and any moment you and he were alone afterward, he would assure you,

“Nothing that woman can make us do will break us apart. There’s no need to worry about it.”

“Is it awkward?” You once asked innocently in a botched attempt at conversation, thinking that surely he’d be open to talk about it since you went through it too. “It was for me.”

Only, this question made Eight rather grumbly, so you corrected the mistake and dropped the subject quickly.

The first few days were indeed tense, but, after a while, everyone sort of found a routine again. It did strike you, however, that there were some days you missed without ever knowing. Like before, some days you heard the others talk about things that you weren’t around for and had no real reason to miss since you tended to always be present. It left you to assume that The Overseer was continuously observing you, but you never told Yosuke outright that you suspected as much, as you had no will to speak to him.

Otherwise, things felt the same after a point. Though, the doors to the music room and the crafts room remained shut tight the entire time. While at first you and the other Numbers had hovered around the entrances yearning for them to open, it soon started to feel like you were all stepping around them. Not just because of the closure, but because you didn’t want to be reminded of what happened anymore.

While others were able to move on, you had to be left slightly behind. Sort of like Three, but for a different reason.

Nobody learned just what you saw, and you never wanted to make things tenser by divulging it to the others. They’d just worry, and you were already doing plenty of that on your own.

Even now, as you sit in the library days later watching Eight distract himself with literature, you stay quiet. Though, you don’t much feel like reading yourself. Eight was kind enough to pick out a book he thought you might like, and so you feel sour now that you can’t really bring yourself to be polite and enjoy it with all the thoughts bumbling about in your head.

It’s not like you’re the only one with some of those thoughts, either. Tensions have dropped slightly, but the others all know that everyone’s worried. You’re all thinking the same thing.

What if he’s dead?

But you? You have worse ideas, knowing what you do. Ideas you would rather not think about or focus on.

It’s only after this day ends that, miraculously, your worries are slightly quelled.

Though, this places the worry of Twelve dying with another.

You wake to the same routine, letting Yosuke dote on you and care for you, enduring Mom’s presence and Monica’s sympathetic looks, but things are not quite the same once you settle in the rec room.

Maybe you should have known something was up since everyone is suddenly present there. Days had passed with you just seeing random people now and then. But today, you’re all here, doing your own things in the confines of the room. And it’s when the doors to the rec room open later on that you realize why.

When Twelve emerges again, the sight of his blond hair and tan clothes makes your heart jump. His face is severely bruised, but no longer as vehemently swollen. His body is also battered with fresh scars and bruises that you’re sure weren’t there before, and didn’t come from Yosuke. You’re certain there are even stitches in a few places on his exposed skin, although it’s hard to tell so far away.

His appearance shakes you, certainly. But moreso does the emergence of a worker, dragging Twelve in by the back of his neck, thick black gloves gripping hard at the boy’s body.

It appears Lilah didn’t bother trying to escort him again, leaving the task to someone entirely random. The workers had always been out of sight, but now, they’re out here so plainly. Surely the others have seen them before, but this close? It almost feels as if things are poking through. Things only you and a few others had a front row seat for are now bleeding into daily life here. You hope this is just a one-time thing. But with how complicated situations have gotten since you came, you don’t expect that will be the case as often as it used to be.

At first, you expect to see Twelve resisting the worker’s hard grip, fighting the cuff binding back his arms. Though you’ve only known him for a short time, his personality is strong enough that you know for certain he’d be fighting. But that’s not the case.

Your shock of seeing him again is only melted slightly away when you realize Twelve isn’t fighting at all, or even trying to. It’s uncharacteristic.

His body isn’t as tense as it has been. He’s not completely limp, but definitely pretty wobbly. It’s hard to tell with all the color on his face, but Twelve’s eyes are drooping, and his mouth is hanging just barely open as he breathes through it now and then.

At first, you fear the worst—has he been messed with somehow? Did they wipe his memory for some reason? Is he the same person?

Though, when you hear him grumble and slur out a few words of snide protest against the worker for manhandling him, you realize he’s his old self. Just weaker.

What on earth did they do…?

The others don’t exactly look upon him with much more than a mixture of shock and displeasure. Lav especially tenses up on the couch in expectation that he might be playing around or trying something, but when she sees him fall to the floor on his knees after the worker pushes him just a little too hard, even she gives a concerned look.

The worker can’t really say much, but the way he handles Twelve is fairly rough. When you think about it, it’s not unlike the one worker who handled you long ago, when you were being taken to The Overseer. You can’t help but stare at the shrouded figure behind Twelve, wondering if perhaps it’s the same person. Surely you’ve come across a lot of the same workers before. You just never knew. Or else it never crossed your mind.

Perhaps that’s how Lucius and Monica can tell them apart. Each has their own mannerisms, some you may have once noticed. Other doctors, though, probably don’t even care or have to care about that kind of thing. To them, the workers are just dogs to be commanded.

And this one—this one is the dog they want him to be. He doesn’t care how hard he handles Twelve. He didn’t care how hard he handled you. He’s just following orders.

Once the worker is done bringing the drugged-up Twelve to where he needs to be, he does not stick around. He only looks around at you all from behind his mask just once, observing the terrified face from Three and the cautious glances from the rest.

He does nothing next but turn and leave.

If only you could say it’s relieving to be left alone. But the fact of the matter is, you’re all here alone with Twelve.

Nobody moves to help him. Nobody even acknowledges him at first. They all just exchange glances and ask murmuring questions, quiet as if hesitant to speak normally around him. There are questions about his state, where he’s been, and what to do. Twelve doesn’t even really acknowledge any of it, even if he clearly hears it. He just looks on tiredly, brows furrowed. You wonder if he’s really able to concentrate at all.

You sit on the floor, bewildered that he’s even here to begin with. Why did they let him off like that? What did they even do to him?

No answers come, of course. He certainly won’t tell you a thing. All Twelve does is try to stand on his feet, give you all an exhausted and frustrated look, and slur a few words.

“Enjoying the show?”

Nobody responds, but he doesn’t give them time to. Twelve simply hobbles himself off to anywhere but here. Either he just doesn’t want to deal with anyone, or he doesn’t want to be seen like this for much longer. Either way, in moments, the rec room doors shut him right out.

Twelve remains this way for a while, you find. As more days roll on, he continues to show up in such a woozy state, but the only positive about it beyond him getting to live, is that he doesn’t bother anyone. You’re sure it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but rather that he’s physically unable. Even when he keeps walking into random rooms where you are and giving you dirty looks, he doesn’t confront you or anyone else.

You can see it in his eyes—he wants to start something. He just doesn’t.

A part of you feels terrible. You want to talk to him, yet find yourself afraid of him all the same. Plus, you know attempting to reason with someone like Twelve would be pointless. He won’t listen to you. All he’ll see is a girl whose doctor hurt him, and by extension, a girl who’s a problem.

You hate admitting you feel safer when he’s drugged. But seeing him like this, it’s almost pitiful. The conflict you feel is difficult to reason with.

“It’s probably better that way,” Blue expresses her unchangeable opinion when you bring it up one day in the library. She watches idly as Eight and Lav attempt to play chess together, but definitely bored out of her mind with how she’s kicking and shifting her feet around under the table. “He’s a dick. Maybe this will teach him to not be one.”

“That’s probably the lesson they’re hoping he’ll learn,” Eight responds as he moves a knight piece to capture Lav’s bishop. You had to ask a lot to learn just what the hell those pieces were, frankly. “But I doubt he will.”

“He doesn’t want us to see him that way,” answers a doubtful Lav, pouting as her piece is taken. “When he recovers, I don’t doubt he’ll be back to his old self, or try to be. We’ll just have to be ready.”

You wonder if you’ll be okay if he does recover. If he’s angry at you, he’ll gun for you next.

Perhaps having Twelve be occupied is a good thing for now, since it lets you focus on all the other difficulties of the facility. Day after day, you have to deal with the doctors. By this point, it’s expected, but no less frustrating.

Yosuke continues to hound and coddle you, but still, the incident with Twelve is never brought up. Only once does he mention him, because he’d heard from the others that the young man came back to the recreational areas.

“He’s been drugged up, I hear,” he mentions once as you’re curled up in bed. You say nothing, leaving your doctor to keep talking. “Foolish young man. He could have avoided all this. Do tell me if he bothers you again.”

As if you would. But if you don’t, he’ll find out some other way, you’re sure.

Either way, the man keeps being run ragged by his boss. Whatever he’s doing aboveground, it leaves him with little time to toy with you. It could be a positive, but it isn’t. Whatever you don’t do with him, you have to do with others.

Visits continue, and the voracious sexual appetite of your captors is no less than it was when you first arrived. The men in particular are all eager to jump on you. Less so Micah, you notice, as he’s being kept occupied by the insufferable Lilah.

Your visits with Sven or Jude are the worst to deal with, and you always wind up being yanked or hit or mortified as they treat you like a piece of meat, and string you up in all manner of horrible positions just to make a mockery of you. Saying it’s becoming easier to just do what’s asked of you isn’t exactly a truth for some of the doctors. But for ones like Gale or Jonathan or Nathaniel, it’s at least easier to just let your body feel good for a while.

“Are you feeling like yourself?” Gale asks once after a short visit. “You look quite glum, you know. Not to seem nosy.”

“You are nosy,” you mutter. “I’ll be fine.”

“You must be more careful with your wording,” Gale remarks as they sit on the bed beside you. “You’re implying that you’re not.”

You avoid their icy gaze, keeping your own eyes glued to the floor. Being naked now isn’t really your preference, but you’re used to it with people like Gale. Is that sick? Are you sick?

“Were you watching, when it happened?” You question. Gale gives a knowing smile.

“You’re still concerned about that?”

“Of course I am!” you answer sharply. You want to sound angry about the incident being downplayed, but you’re too miserable to really force it. “You’re going to act like none of that happened? That your own Number wasn’t in danger? That Yosuke didn’t just beat a guy to shit in front of me?”

“I wasn’t exactly there to see what Yosuke did,” is Gale’s calm response. “I only heard of it. I am worried about how he’s been acting lately, but I’m not the one responsible for dealing with things if they get out of hand. I only do what I’m told and watch from afar. And as for Six, I was worried.”

“You wanted to protect her,” you point out. “But what about the rest of us? Why didn’t you stop any of it if you could?”

“You presume I could?” Gale finds this amusing. “Ten, I won’t really go into the whys regarding my post. Why I didn’t act sooner, why I didn’t do more than I had. It’s not up to you or me, is all. And, practically speaking, I can do little without making it known to others that they’re being watched, though I know a few of them have suspected it before.”

You scowl. “Will you at least tell me why Twelve got to live? After what he did? On that note, what did they do to him? When he came back, he was out of it. He didn’t even try to hurt us or run off again.”

“I don’t know why my boss lets certain people live or die,” Gale admits with a frown. “I only know what he wants me to do. As for Twelve, I had no hand in what happened to him afterward.”

You’re not satisfied by the answer, but figure Gale wouldn’t elaborate much more than that anyway even if they could. So, you move on. “Why did Lucius come by when Twelve was threatening me, and not when he was destroying things?”

“I don’t have all the answers,” Gale reminds you. “I’m limited in my own ways, you know.”

This proves frustrating. You don’t believe that for a second. They must know something.

Still, you press on. “Was your boss even there when everything happened? Could he have stopped it?”

Gale again does not give a straight answer, and so you have no choice but to drop it.

Around the same time that the damaged rooms are cleaned up is around the same time Twelve adjusts to his regular druggings. After a while, he stops being completely useless and manages to walk, talk, and think to some degree of normal for him, with some exception. He’s still always tired and sluggish, but his bad days are chilling only because of how far gone he acts. On bad days, he is empty-headed and sits still with such a vacant look, hardly capable of speech at all. But even his good days are unnerving at times. Seeing him try to think to himself or pick fights with the others always gives off a much more pitiful air than it did.

He’s no longer slurring his words, but he’s definitely slower and restrained. His mind is cloudy, as are his senses. He wobbles around sometimes when he walks, and often has to stop and lean against something to try gathering himself.

Only a few people want to uncuff him, but the group delegates it to a vote rather than leaving the decision to one single person. Unfortunately, it’s often in favor of keeping him cuffed. As a result, Twelve has to deal with being bound most all the time. Yet, even with his hands always behind his back, he’ll go up to people and drill insults into them. While you always fear he’ll try to kick or stomp on someone, most everyone keeps their distance anyway.

It’s almost sad to see that people will get up from where they are and move elsewhere if Twelve gets near them. He’s unwanted, and he knows it.

But admittedly, it’s hard to feel one hundred percent bad for him too. Now and then he’ll just laugh and laugh as if all of this is some big joke. He’ll make condescending remarks and challenge everyone, and when they won’t listen, he just laughs at them like it’s so entertaining how pathetic they are in his eyes. He never takes a second look at himself to see that he’s the pathetic one.

Nobody wants to deal with him. Even he doesn’t, you think.

A few times, he tries his hand at slamming the cuff off his arms. There are a few days where you catch him running backwards toward a wall and attempting to break the cuff when he’s fed up with waiting for anyone else to set him free. But each time he does it, it never works. The others only watch him, wondering if he’s really that stupid, or if he’s just desperate. Maybe they can’t blame him for wanting to be free, but at the same time, you know they’d also argue it’s his own fault for breaking their trust to begin with. Only a couple of the others would disagree. Cyrus especially, but when you look at him, he doesn’t seem so eager to be the one to help him either. You wonder what he might be thinking.

Once, you’re unfortunately alone with Twelve in the cafeteria, watching him slam against the wall over and over and over, until he gives up and just slides along the wall from his shoulder, tired and panting.

His emerald eyes lock onto you so sharply, leaving you with a shiver down your spine.

“Gettin’ a kick out of this, huh?” He huffs. “This fun for you?”

You don’t know what to say to him other than a stammering “n-no”.

“Did you like watching him go at me? Think I deserved it?”

Twelve’s sudden question leaves you frozen. His eyes focus squarely on you, brows lowered as he awaits a response. You can’t find any words to say.

Seeing the slow-healing bruises on his face, the red and purple of the fresh ones, and the green and yellow of old ones, only makes it harder to find the words. All you envision is the image of Yosuke punching his face in over and over, and you can’t find the strength to keep sticking around once it flashes in your head.

Twelve says nothing as he watches you run out of the room.

By this point, the crafts room and the music room have been cleared out entirely of debris. They’re not filled with new supplies yet, so when you find yourself stumbling into the now-open rooms, you’re left crushed to see how empty they are.

Only the furniture remains, but all the shelves are empty. Even Pickle’s scissors are gone, something you’re certain he’ll be torn up about.

Your heart weighs heavy being reminded of what happened, but you don’t wind up leaving. Instead, you lean against the wall near the door and slide down against it, all the way until you’re on the floor.

Maybe you’ve become desperate, but with nobody around to talk to, you start reaching out to the person you know nothing about.

“Dahlia,” you call. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

It’s not until you utter her name that you realize you’re not supposed to know it. But for some reason, you just don’t care. Why does it matter? Lucius can explain to his boss why you know her name if it’s such a big deal. It wasn’t your fault. All you have to do is not be a nuisance. And with Twelve around, you haven’t been the one causing trouble.

And if The Overseer wants to examine your head over and over again to study you, so be it. What is he going to find other than that you don’t know a thing? You feel connections you can’t place. You can’t place connections that might seem obvious. No matter what you do, you’re stuck like this.

You shouldn’t, but you shut your eyes and try to hear her voice again. Trying to force it out only makes you dizzy, and you wind up stopping yourself before you can hear her again.

“Where did you go?” You beg her ghost. “I need you.”

Maybe you are crazy.

Dahlia’s voice wouldn’t shut up before, but now, she’s quiet. Attempting to rouse her in your head is a fruitless endeavor, and after what happened the first time you tried to force a memory, you are hesitant to do it again. All you do is speak to her as if she were an old friend.

At first, you feel silly talking to her this way. But at some point, you find it comforting to pretend she’s in your head, watching everything you do, and watching over you when others can’t.

You don’t utter Dahlia’s name again after the first time, except when you’re alone in your room. It started off with big questions that you had mostly kept to yourself, but after a while, it becomes small talk and light conversation to an invisible figure.

“How’s the weather?” You ask while lying in bed once, mimicking the kind of small talk you’ve seen in some of the movies they’ve shown in the rec room. “I wish I could see the sun like you once could. I don’t really remember what it feels like.”

Though, when your one-sided conversations rouse negative feelings, you lose your grip on Dahlia and start to weep.

You keep dreaming of the garden, of Dahlia’s voice, of the men in the hall, of being in the rose garden and the ballroom. You always want to explore, yet find it impossible to do it much. Always, you wake up before you can reach out and touch anything. Always, you wake up with drops in your eyes. And always, Yosuke is there to help bring you back to reality, whether you want him to or not.

Yosuke isn’t present in your dream as often as he was before, but you aren’t free of him either. When he isn’t there, you have more of a chance to run around in your dream and try to find answers. But whenever he does appear, you’re left powerless to him. And always, when you dream of the rosebushes, Yosuke follows behind.

The moment he’s there, it’s as if you’ve lost a fight, and you have to let him hold you back from Dahlia.

When you wake, the real Yosuke holds you. He stays by your side as often as he can, and though you fight him about his coddling, you always wind up letting him have his way anyway. Like Three, you’ve just been so tired lately.

When Dahlia or your friends can’t bring you comfort, you go to Charlie, if you are able. There are days where you’re preoccupied with the others, but any time you’re left alone because you came early or alone, or because your friends were taken for visits, you try to talk to the man behind the counter.

Lately, he’s been as sluggish as everyone. You keep asking him if he’s feeling okay, or how he’s doing, and he keeps telling you he’s fine. Though, you don’t fully believe it yourself with how slow he’s been chugging. You don’t want to think about why.

“Do you ever feel alone back there?” You ask once while sitting on the counter, and Charlie only responds with a scraggly YES. Though disheartening to hear, you try to smile for him. “You have us, you know. We won’t leave you hanging. We love you, you know? Even if we aren’t always around to see you.”

LOVE YOU, is all he writes with his scraggly letters, repeating your own words in turn. You wish you could give the guy a hug, but you just wind up leaning against the pane over the counter and shutting your eyes for a bit in your exhaustion. Though, Twelve eventually comes by in an attempt to feed himself and ruins whatever moment you’re having. Given his arms are bound, he can only really drink whatever Charlie gives him.

At first, he’d hesitated, but when Twelve found it impossible to ignore his hunger, he eventually caved in and let Charlie take care of him. Though, that hardly made him square with the guy. Even now Twelve remains antagonistic, as he does with everyone.

Tiredly, he asks,

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you mutter while hopping off the counter and moving quickly away. You hate having the moment cut short, but don’t want to deal with Twelve. You don’t even stick around to listen to whatever bullshit he has to say to you, and walk away as fast as you can. Twelve only trails each step of yours with his eyes until you’re out of the room.

With each day that rolls by, your body heals a bit more. By now, your bruises are nearly faded, and Lucius’ injury to your abdomen is only a scar.

At some point, you manage to finally try to exercise in the gym in an attempt to destress, something Lav is all too eager to help you with. You start from the top down, doing basic standing exercises and eventually moving to the floor later on. By that point, you’re a bit weary, but keep going anyway.

“No, you need to be really careful with your form when you do any kind of exercise,” Lav corrects you after a failed attempt to do a sitting pull-up. “Believe me, you can damage your body on accident making the wrong moves. Keep your body like this.”

She reaches down to touch you, only to pause and look at you on the floor. “Um.”

“You can,” you nod at her, and Lav smiles before continuing to bring a hand to your hips and adjust them, then your back and shoulders. Her hands are incredibly warm, and you can’t help but blush at her touch.

“Like that,” she tells you. “Try to keep your body like that as you lift it. Here, I’ll spot you.”

She moves to your feet and holds them steady while you try your best to raise your upper body up. Not having done this at any point in your time here, it’s admittedly winding to try lifting yourself up. Your abdomen winds up hurting a little when you do, but you keep pushing forward until your chest is close to your knees.

But so too is your face by Lav’s. You wind up staring at her so awkwardly, but she keeps her cool and laughs it off.

“Nine more. Alright?”

When she unexpectedly gives you a peck on your lips, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and crumple back onto the floor.

At this, Lav laughs. “We’re gonna have to start at one again.”

Working out with her is tiring, but, admittedly, refreshing. Though you’re sure she’s leagues ahead of you in taking care of her fitness, she goes slow and matches your pace. Anything you don’t know, she does her best to explain to you and demonstrate. And, of course, you don’t mind when her corrections and demonstrations have to get a little handsy. A few times, you can’t help hoping that they will.

While you attempt to make it a regular thing, you can’t always predict when Lav will be around, so there are days where you work out on your own in an attempt to bring some kind of healthy shape back to your once-frail body. While it puts physical stress on you, it also feels wonderful to let out some emotional stress with even small workouts.

On other days, you try to hang around with Cyrus, watching him run laps in the gym. You apparently took for granted his mention of high stamina and enjoyment of running, because the first time you ever see him actually do it, he’s much faster than you expected. You certainly don’t think you could compete. But when he stops and offers for you to run with him, you don’t say no.

You greatly overestimated your capabilities—after attempting to do a few laps, your lungs are left burning, and you wind up having to stop. Only, when you do, your legs feel like jelly, and you lean against the padded wall for support.

“You alright?” Cyrus asks as he hovers over you. While he’s just sucking in a few breaths, you’re over here gasping for air as if you’ve never run a lap in your life. With you unable to answer, Cyrus sits you on a nearby bench and stays at your side until you recover.

“How the fuck am I this out of shape?!” You pant, leaving Cyrus to laugh softly.

“It happens. Don’t get too hung up about it. You’ve been through a lot, and there’s never a completely dull day in this place. Can’t always make time to keep up with fitness here.”

"I guess that’s true enough,” you respond.

Eventually, you are able to catch your breath again. The silence between you and Cyrus lasts a bit before you manage normal speech again, but he remains patient with you.

Once the rush of exercising wears off, your gloom winds up returning. You then frown as another thought creeps into your mind.

“Cyrus, do you think things are going to be okay?”

“Hm?” Your friend hums in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, will we all be okay? I feel…weird after what happened. And I feel like I’ve been out of sorts.”

You could easily tell him what Yosuke did to Twelve. You try to, but find the words stopping in your throat for some reason.

You just don’t want to make him worry.

“I think it’s gonna take some time for us to get into a good rhythm of things again,” is what Cyrus says, voice solemn. “Twelve disturbed what we had, and it’s likely he’ll continue to whenever he has the strength again.”

“Nine said the same thing. Nobody has faith in him, do they?” You’re disheartened. “But while I feel bad about it, I’m not sure I do either. I keep wanting to talk to him, but then avoiding him. I’m afraid of what he might do to me. To any of us.”

“So am I,” Cyrus admits, though hesitantly. “But we have to keep going.”

You frown. “I know.”

Things keep rolling onward, and you just have to bear it. Visits keep going again, though none quite so taxing on your body as some previous ones have been now that you’ve healed up more. It’s hardly a blessing, but any little break on your body is much needed. Only now and then are you left sore between your legs with how roughly and continuously you’re abused. But no matter what happens to you, Yosuke continues to take care of the aftermath, and of you.

He clearly doesn’t like seeing you hurt at the hands of others, but you’d presume he’s content that things are, to some degree, back to normal—No great disturbance in the group, no visits from Lucius, no worries about you doing something outlandish. He gets to have you just as he wants you: docile.

“I wish he’d go away,” you tell Dahlia while buried under your covers one night. “I just want to wake up back home. Somewhere nice. You know?”

She doesn’t respond.

Mom doesn’t visit you again, but she does continue to hound you in the hall whenever Yosuke brings you over. She pinches your cheeks, gushes over how cute you are, and teases you about your doctor, but she remains harmless. You’re frustrated with her for letting her petty obsessions get in the way of your emotional health. What a terrible “mother” she is. Still, you just answer obediently whenever she wants, only to get her off your back faster.

Monica is someone who you don’t see enough of after what happened with Twelve, but she does show up now and then with her busywork always in her hands. Papers, binders, folders. Always. She even starts keeping a pen tucked behind her ear to keep up with her workload. You can’t help but assume Mom is passively thrusting most things onto her while she gets to dawdle and bother Yosuke. However, Monica appears not to mind having something to do, and expresses that Mom is doing her part too, much to your skepticism.

You don’t really have to beg her for a visit, as she makes it a point to come see you while asking Mom a favor by keeping Yosuke busy again. Mom only obliges in exchange for a childish little kiss from you, which you begrudgingly oblige.

Pretending to be a cutesy little girl isn’t your style, but you sheepishly baby yourself up for Mom just to get a chance to talk to Monica. And while laying in bed with her, suckling away at her chest, is still embarrassing to do even now, you bear it.

This time is far warmer than sexual, as Monica has you laying atop her and leaning on her chest while you do the deed she wants. And in exchange, she doesn’t bother you for much other than a few sweet little touches. Any manner of sexual cooperation is unnerving, but you do it for the chance to speak freely.

Your visit isn’t nearly as intricate or long, and Monica, seeing how bothered your face is, allows most of it to be a conversation between you two. However, you remain laying against her all the same, and let her hold your head in turn. No matter how uncomfortable her fascinations are, the break from the men is one you’re eager for.

“Your boss and Lucius haven’t come for me,” you tell her, mumbling. You can’t help but think also about muttering Dahlia’s name before, but it seems even that’s gone unpunished. “They might not be so occupied with us, rather than Twelve right now.”

“For the moment. Don’t think they’ve forgotten about us. It’s still better to be cautious,” Monica answers you with a frown. You wish you could relax knowing you haven’t been punished for talking with Monica, but you agree with her all the same, and find it hard not to be worried even so. “I’m glad you’re safe, though. I was worried something might happen to you.”

“Something always does.” You’re not the least bit optimistic. “I’ve been feeling out of it lately. But I guess I always wind up like this after a while.”

“Why?” Monica questions, beginning to nestle her fingers in your hair. “I haven’t really been seeing you around lately. You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

“Do you know what Twelve did?”

“Yes, I do.” Monica sighs. “My poor Number got hurt because of him, too. But luckily, he turned out to be fine. I also noticed that Twelve’s been quite woozy lately. I certainly hope he doesn’t cause problems again later.”

“So you didn’t hear about Yosuke,” you’re disappointed, and wind up ignoring Monica’s statement on Twelve. However, Monica corrects you.

“No, I heard. Want to know why?” She tries to keep a kind, lively tone while you feel defeated, but you indulge her. “Mamita went on a big rant about seeing Micah with Lilah the other day. I ended up hearing from her a bit about what happened, because Lilah ended up spitting it in her face. Those two really hate each other, huh?”

“Mom hates most women who threaten her livelihood,” you scoff. “Lilah for her own reasons, you because of her jealousy, though she switched gears after a while. But Mom’s beef with Lilah is what led to me having to see what I did.”

Monica picks her head up and looks down at you, surprised. “You…saw that? I didn’t hear that part.”

You feel guilty opening up about it with Monica when your friends are the ones who would comfort you about it, but you just see your talks with her more as an open channel of information. You’re just relaying something, is all. Monica can be comforting at times, but she doesn’t fully compare.

Still, it feels better to at least say something about it, even to a doctor.

“Lilah insisted I watch. There was blood everywhere.” You grimace. “And my doctor looked so cold. I’ve never seen him like that. I’ve never seen him that bad. And now I’m afraid of him, and of Twelve. I already have too much to be afraid of. Why do I need more?”

Your hand balls into a fist over Monica’s stomach, though she hardly has much to answer you with. Even she looks around with an uncertain eye, as if searching for something to say.

“We’re all afraid of something here,” she eventually responds. “But I’m sorry you have to suffer because of him.”

“If you’re so sorry, then help us leave,” you plead, only shutting up immediately after you hear Monica let out a tired sigh.

She finally sits up, forcing you to have to get off her and sit up on the bed instead, arms hugging yourself. Monica avoids looking toward you, but relays her unpleasant reminder.

“You know I can’t. We went over this. Please don’t do this to me again.”

And so you try not to.

Visits with Monica are an unfortunate rarity, but you know just why she tries not to ask to see you so often. While you itch for talks, you try to keep patient and bide your time in other ways.

You catch a few of the Numbers in the still-empty music and craft rooms sometimes, wandering around and examining the bare walls and shelves. Five and Six look especially disheartened when they see the crafts room so empty of all the group’s work. Three won’t even go in the room at all, however. When you ask her about it, she only tells you,

“Not until it’s back the way it was.”

Pickle wanders around the crafts room one day as well, examining it from floor to ceiling while walking around it with you and Two.

“I can’t imagine how much work you all put in,” he says. “Do you think you’ll ever rebuild it like you had?”

“Probably not,” you remain slightly pessimistic as you run a finger along the bare shelf where some of the writing utensils used to be. “Or at least, it won’t be a lot like it used to.”

“I still wanna try,” is Two’s more upbeat rebuttal. “I don’t want to give up just because some asshole decided to ruin things.”

“How’s Three holding up?” You ask. Two leans his back against one of the walls between two shelves and shakes his head.

“Three’s recovering from this, but she’s still upset about a lot.”

You remain worried. “Is she…”

Two refuses the idea. “She’s stronger than that. She’s just down. Three’s done this before, with Jade. She doesn’t take losses that well, whether it’s personal or material.”

You frown. “She did a lot with Jade here too. The doll she, Cyrus and I made of her was lost because of Twelve.”

“Maybe when we try to rebuild it, I can help,” Pickle chimes in. “I want to be a part of things since I missed out. And I want her to trust me more.”

“She’s still mad?” You’re surprised. “I thought-“

“She’s not hung up on it quite as hard, but Three still feels I shouldn’t spend all my time with him instead of her, especially in her time of need.” Two interrupts you. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

It upsets you to think the twins are still having their disagreement, but for now, you can’t do much about it.

Another day in the music room, you catch Eight with a sleeping Violet curled up on the floor by his side, out cold from her shot.

“It’s not the same here,” he tells you, embittered. “It’s lifeless without music. I only want to hear the sounds of my violin again.”

“I’m sure they’ll bring the instruments back soon,” you try to assure him, but Eight hardly seems to accept it.

“It won’t be the same, Ten,” he asserts. “A player’s instrument is their livelihood. I can tell the difference between each one. Each is made differently, has different curves and edges and hardnesses and weights. Whatever one I end up with after all this, I’ll always know it’s not mine.”

“Then make it yours,” you counter with lowered brows. “You seem to think of instruments like a normal person would think of a child. So, think of it like adopting your own violin. Take care of it. Cherish it. It may not be your first born, but-“

“Ten, that is the stupidest analogy I have ever heard,” Eight cuts you off with a raise of his brow. “A violin is not a child.”

“Oh my god, it’s the principle of it you dumb…stupid!” You groan.

To your annoyance, Eight finds amusement in your frustration and musters a subtle smirk. “That the best you can do?”

You proceed with a relentless tantrum-induced beating on his shoulder and a flurry of inventive curses.

Cyrus had said there was never a completely dull day in the facility, and you can’t really disagree as time marches on. Even with no grand event transpiring after Twelve’s escapades, there is always something to see, for better or for worse.

Twelve’s wooziness still never fully goes away since his drugging continues. He’s distant and sluggish as ever, but he appears to get accustomed to this continuously altered state of his enough to manage to still be a prick to others even through it. The violence is rare now. His appetite for it is still quite ravenous, but he can’t muster the energy or strength to remain eternally aggressive. This is what you remain thankful for, because it’s about the only thing keeping you and your friends completely safe from him.

However, you notice that he keeps trying to tail you. Whenever you’re alone, he finds you, and you struggle to look at him for too long. And because you keep avoiding him, he keeps persisting.

“Your doctor thinks he’s tough shit, eh?” He pecks at you after finding you sitting alone in the library one day while trying to read a short book. “Didn’t hit nearly as hard as he could have, you know.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” you mutter in response, leaning away from Twelve as he stands closer to you. When Twelve suddenly squats down and gets close to your face in response, you gasp and fall to the side, attempting to get away from him. He only watches, unamused at your frightened response.

“You afraid of me?”

“What kind of question is that?!” You demand, using your palms against the floor to pull and slide your body away from Twelve. He laughs so condescendingly at you that you feel shameful.

“Listen, princess, unless you wanna give me a cure for this fog I’ve got, I’m not a threat. You could probably uncuff me and I’d be completely harmless.”

“Liar. I’m not falling for that,” you shoot back after sitting yourself back up and facing the still-squatting shitwad. “I know what you’re capable of. I know you’re mad at me. You don’t understand why I have to do what I do. Do you think I enjoy it?”

Twelve lowers a brow. “You mean cozying up to those fucks? You want me to be mad at you, but you’re not special. I’m mad at everyone. Besides, I don’t have the goddamn strength to be as angry as I have the right to be right now. Happy to hear that?”

You scowl, and don’t hide it. “Given your track record, yes. It’s your own damn fault. I kept trying to warn you—we all did. You’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

“Maybe they should’ve,” is Twelve’s bitter response. He shifts his eyes away in thought, glowering. “When they stop drugging me up, I’m gonna go back to finding a way out. They won’t stop me. And unless they want to actually kill me, they can’t keep pumping me full of drugs forever.”

He then looks your way, noting that you’ve curled up and that your body is tense. Twelve cocks a meager grin at your frightened disposition, but does not act upon it.

“That’s almost the same look you gave him.” Every word he speaks makes his jaw move, and by consequence, the healing skin around it. All the injuries are called to attention every time he talks, and you’re continuously brought back to what happened no matter how little you want to be.

“Y-you don’t understand the shit he’s done,’ you stammer. “He’s tormented me for a long time. He’s obsessed with me, and with protecting me like property. You didn’t know he’d do that. I-I didn’t even…”

Your hands tremble while still clasping at your folded knees, and Twelve’s smile drops.

“The fuck’s his deal?”

“There’s a lot to it,” you tell him. Twelve winds up shrugging.

“Explain it to me then, if you’re so fucking hung up about it.”

You wonder if he’s actually curious. Despite fearing what he might do alone with you, you still try to answer Twelve honestly.

You don’t hold back any detail. You tell him about Yosuke’s long-standing obsession with you, even down to the worst moments. Reliving everything is no less unpleasant than it was the first time you dealt with it, but you try to state your case only in the hope that Twelve will finally understand what hell you’ve endured, and that you aren’t a threat any more than anyone else in the group. This is the only time you’ve been alone with him where he’s expressed any willingness to hear you out. Even if it’s because he’s too out of it to really be as aggressive as he wants, you’ll take the opportunity.

It feels wrong. It makes you nauseous to outline every single awful thing Yosuke has done, with the limitation of anything The Overseer wants to keep you from saying. The words escaping your mouth feel like poison, making your lips numb and your heart beat wildly. But you don’t stop until you’re done.

At first, you think that at least it’s worth it to get Twelve to see your side of things. At first, he looks at you with his mouth slightly agape, face slightly tense, and eyes focused on you as if he’s taking you seriously.

But then he laughs.

“Is that all?” He mouths off. His words sting, his mannerisms leave you stunned. Angry. But Twelve continues to peck at you without remorse. “You get to play baby for a guy who thinks he knows what he’s doing. You get to lay in his big, strong doctor arms while others get beaten for asking a question or saying the wrong thing.”

You should have expected he’d care so little about everything, but the fact that he’s so blatant about it, and the fact that he’s completely misunderstood the point of a topic so personal to you leaves you fuming. You can’t help but grit your teeth.

“You’re an asshole.” You sputter. “You think that just because I don’t have scars all over my body that I don’t have scars at all? You think all I do is whore myself around to avoid getting hurt? You don’t know just what I’ve been through. Yosuke isn’t even the worst of it.”

“So you’re holding out on me?” Twelve scoffs, sitting on the floor now that he’s tired of squatting down. “Tell me then, if you want to be so impressive.”

“I can’t,” you refuse him in anger. The reminder that you have to hold in so much only frustrates you further. And, of course, this leaves Twelve to drill you.

“Why?”

When you don’t answer, he scoffs again.

“They’re watching us, huh?”

You’re sure the others have some idea that this is the case, but this is one of the first times you’ve heard someone say this so explicitly out loud. How expected that he would.

Before you can answer, Twelve tips his head up to look at the ceiling, and raises his voice.

“Hey, assholes!”

Your heart skips a beat at the idea of him getting himself into more trouble, so you immediately dive forward and knock him over. Without hesitation, you clasp a hand over his mouth, leaving him to fume furiously through his nostrils.

“Shut up!” You hiss. “You’re going to get yourself in more trouble than you already are!”

You suddenly feel a wetness between your digits, and immediately pull your hand back to examine it. Immediately, you realize it’s saliva.

“What the fuck-“

“Get off me!” With one kick, Twelve sends you backwards onto the floor. The hit leaves your stomach sore and slightly winded, but you manage to recover, if while clutching the affected area.

Twelve sits back up and looks at you with murder in his eyes, only to find you’re looking right back at him the same way. You want to slap him again, even threaten to raise your hand as it trembles at your side, something Twelve takes notice of. But you don’t even try.

“Forget it,” you grumble. “You’re not fucking worth it.”

You suck in a few more breaths while attempting to stand, but Twelve makes no attempts to move beyond watching you with an intense glare. While you attempt to storm off, you wind up stopping yourself midway to the door.

Just leave, you tell yourself. Just forget about him!

You don’t listen.

Heaving a sigh, you wind up turning around, looking over at Twelve whose knees are up and head is down. His fists are balled up, but he’s made no attempts to move since you got up.

“I didn’t want to see him hurt you,” you tell him. “I didn’t want any of that to happen. I hate you for hurting the people I love. But even you don’t deserve what my doctor did, nor what Lilah continues to do. And, you know, Eight was like you. Eight suffered like you. But we continued to show him kindness even so. That’s all we ever wanted to do with you, knowing how bad this place is, and how bad she is. You just don’t get it, do you?”

Twelve doesn’t respond, but you see his head turn just slightly toward you.

“I’m sorry,” you force yourself to say the words. “I’m sorry that you’re struggling. I’m sorry that Yosuke hurt you, and that Lilah is so cruel to you. But I have no hand in any of that. Neither I, nor my family are responsible for your misery. The longer you sit there blaming us for your problems, the worse they’ll get.”

You don’t give him a chance to do more than watch you leave after that. And, after that, you don’t really see as much of him except for now and then.

You notice he continues to attempt breaking out of his cuffs, ignoring anyone who might be watching him attempt to, Number or otherwise. The other Numbers always murmur and gossip behind his back about his behavior, but he doesn’t care. Occasionally, he’ll turn around and make more bitter comments, or throw out insults to the others, but for the most part, he doesn’t pay attention to them.

The only time he ever holds back, you notice, is when Three is around. Most times, he’ll just watch her from afar, intensely, as if trying to figure something out. Whatever it is that shook him the day of his outburst, it was apparently enough to make him hunt for an answer as to why it did. But even so, he never approaches her directly. It’s odd.

Beyond that, he continues to fight where he can, even when he should know he’s beat. Arrogant is the first word you’d use to describe him after all your bad experiences with him. Persistent, second.

Still, you hate watching him. His failures only make you feel hopeless. If even a stubborn, brutish guy can’t make it out of here, how can you ever hope to?

Someone like Jay got out of her sector because she was attentive and smart enough to find a way to run. Desperate, frankly. But without that attentiveness, that foresight, Twelve’s attempts at fleeing are as pointless as hers were. And it pains you to say it that way, as it feels like you’re just undermining whatever struggles she must have gone through. You hardly knew Jay, but you don’t feel right slandering her that way.

“I don’t blame him for wanting to get out of here,” Monica tells you when she visits you again. You lay across her lap after a long session in the main examination room, body exhausted from heavier use this time. “But he doesn’t seem to want to swallow the reality of this place.”

“I wouldn’t want to either,” you mutter tiredly. “I still refuse to, sometimes. Maybe my hopes are pointless.”

Monica looks at you worriedly. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

You don’t really add to the topic, and let it drop. After a brief silence, you wind up asking her something she wasn’t expecting. “What’s the outside like?”

“Ten…” You’re warned, but you try to reassure Monica this isn’t a ploy.

“I just want to know.”

Monica lets out a little breath through her nose while humming in thought. “Well, there’s a lot of beautiful trees and winding roads. Lots of sun, lots of crisp air. There’s a lot outside. What exactly are you referring to?”

“What’s the outside like right now?” You ask. “Where we are?”

Monica laughs. “Oh, Ten. It’s quite nice. It’s not a very high-density place. We’re not smack dab in the middle of a busy city or anything. There’s lots of big trees out there with some beautiful houses or small communities sprinkled around. Ponds and small lakes as far as I’ve heard. Though, a little further out, there is a city! There are even a few a little further than that.”

“Are there a lot of people?”

“Some. I haven’t been in the closest city as of late for more than specialized groceries or specific errands. I don’t know if anyone here is from this place, but a lot of them are familiar with it since they’ve been here a while.”

“Is it pretty outside?”’

“Very.” Monica smiles. “Ten, why are you asking this so suddenly?”

Telling her “the woman in my head who I’ve talked to a few times has gotten me to think about the outside” would probably sound odd, but it’s not like you haven’t considered the topic before on your own. You close your eyes a bit, and drum up a more acceptable answer.

“I’ve always wondered about it. I’d like to think about a forest full of trees or the sun hitting my face since all I have here are cold floors and white walls.”

Monica then frowns. “Well, thinking about the outside so much is only going to depress you further, you know. And I say that from experience. I’d like nothing more than to get out of here myself. Somewhere warm, maybe.”

“Where would you go?”

“A beach!” Monica giggles softly. “Or at least somewhere where there’s lots of sun. I used to love taking my spring breaks around on these really nice beaches with my family. Lots of boys used to hit on me there.”

She laughs again, thinking about it.

“What was your life like before?” You ask, curious. “Whatever you can still remember, I mean.”

“I was never completely ‘rich’ like some other doctors here, but I was well off. My parents were a bit rough around the edges. Very pushy, always trying to keep me in a good social standing. I hated when they were like that, but we did have a few family outings where some of that pressure didn’t matter.

“Those are some of my fondest available memories. Though, I did make my father angry a few times by running around with boys he didn’t want me with. Some girls, even. But he never much accepted that women could love one another, and he always assumed they were my friends. It was easy to get away with my dates that way. Men were much harder to hide.”

She laughs at another memory. “I can’t believe I was so tricky back then. I was more susceptible to following my parents’ word as a kid because I didn’t realize I could question the viewpoint of an adult until I was taught to by friends. So, as I got older, I had my own point of view, my own thoughts, my own opinions, and I changed. I used to go partying, get into fights, and play around, searching for an identity and a place I could be myself. And now, I’ve really toned down in my age. I don’t quite know when it happened, though. Even when I was studying to become a doctor, I’m sure I was a little playful too. Maybe not quite as much, but still…”

“I wish I could tell you, but I’m sure I don’t know much about getting older myself,” you admit. “I don’t even really know what life experience I’ve had. You only lost a portion of your memory. I lost my whole life.”

“I guess I should count my blessings on that one,” Monica sighs. “I remember more than I probably should. I know I don’t deserve that. But I also know I’m only being used. I’m allowed to keep what I got to because it’s being used and observed by someone else.”

Your eyes open again, and you stare off at the sheets of the bed and the floor just peeking out of the edge of the bed in your peripheral vision.

“But knowing what you do has more value than you realize,” you remind her. “I guess it’s good that we’re able to talk like this. About all this. I never expected it. I have my hang-ups about our arrangement, but I am thankful for the opportunity.”

“Being an insider has its ups and downs.” Monica answers gently. “I guess it’s nice that I know the Nurses. Some of the other workers I still don’t quite have pinned down.”

“What are they like?” You question, intrigued. “I noticed the other day when a worker came in that he might have been the same one I saw before Lucius took me to your boss’ office. I guess I never used to think much of the workers until the one I made friends with behind the food counter in the cafeteria.”

“Mm?” Monica hums. “You made friends with him?”

“We named him Charlie,” you admit. “He said he was okay with the name. We don’t really get to talk to him much, but we had started communicating with him through writing. He’s got bad handwriting, but he learned how to communicate with us because he cares. He’s shown us he cares. And when I was confined, I used to think about him every time I was given a meal. He’s a sweet person.”

“My, I’ve never heard of any groups being so friendly with the chef.” Monica looks up and ponders this a bit. “I suppose it’s good you’re able to connect to the workers somehow. They’re quite lonely here. Especially someone who doesn’t really get to mingle with his fellow workers. The others at least get to see each other, even if just in passing.”

She looks back down at you and gives another warm smile of her maroon lips.

“Well, the nurses have a few different personalities too,” she carries on. “There’s five of them at all times, though a few of them have recently been, um, replaced.”

You grimace thinking about it. Lucius had abused a nurse before, and then others have been pronounced dead within earshot. You don’t want to think about how much those workers must have suffered here.

“I didn’t get to learn much about our old N1, but our new one is quite sweet and clumsy,” Monica goes on. “She’s a lot like you, I find. So new, so unsure of what’s going on, but pressing onward because she has an impeccable will.”

You look down, blushing. “Oh.”

“N2 is also fairly new—our old one was cold and harsh because she’d been here a while and as worn down by the place, but the girl who replaced her is much more distant rather than just mean. She doesn’t seem to like being told what to do, but because she’s so new, she’s still adjusting to all this. She at least knows she can’t fight her position without losing her life, which is the hardest lesson a lot of the new workers have to learn.”

You only assume some never do until it's too late.

“N3 is a reserved girl,” Monica goes on. “She’s quite eager to carry out her tasks, so I assume she’s gotten the hang of this place and is very hooked on her drugs to be so comfortable here.”

You huff. “Sounds like Four, minus the drugs. I think I’ve met N3. Just once.”

“Oh? When?”

“I can barely remember it because I was so drowsy, but I woke up after my first shot here,” you recount. “It was probably about the second time or so that I’d ever seen Lucius. He was there with Nathaniel and a Nurse, and that nurse lit up when Lucius mentioned he was going to go see her for a shot.”

You shudder. “I didn’t know then what that implied. I didn’t know what he does to the workers. To think that girl was probably eager to get drugged and be used…It’s horrible.”

“Yes, it’s grim,” Monica doesn’t disagree, voice low. “But they get to pretend they’re happy in their mania. It's artificial happiness, but it’s better than living miserably all the time. I know that sounds harsh.”

“I guess I can see the point,” you mutter. “I don’t agree with it.”

Monica sighs again. “Well, anyway, N3 is a sweetheart. N4 and N5 as well. N4 is a kind person, but sometimes too much for her own good. Even N5 listens more often, and isn’t the type to dawdle.”

“I remember that number. N4 tried to stop Lucius from hurting me, I think,” you try to recall. It was so long ago, yet you remember him hurting her, then attempting to do the same to you. “He’d hit her hard, and I begged her not to take it. But even when she was the one in pain, she clung to Lucius to stop him from hitting me.”

“She has a little bit of a sympathetic streak,” Monica nods. “She tends to take care of a lot of the unconscious patients I get, and likely those she sees under Nathaniel or my boss. She likes to watch them and make sure they’re okay, since she can’t really see them when they’re awake or try to communicate with them. But I assume if she’s ever working with my boss, she gets snapped at a lot like I would.”

She then smiles again and pushes forward. “You should tell me a little more about Charlie. I’ve never met him.”

You try to collect your thoughts and put them into words. “He’s sweet to us. He gives us treats sometimes, and he’s always good with his cooking. Everyone really likes his food, and after they found a way to talk to him, that’s all we ever tried to do. Everyone goes up to the counter now, asking for him by name rather than just being afraid to approach the counter just to ask for water or something.”

“How did the communication thing happen?”

You hesitate, but wind up admitting what happened, and why. You explain the system of drawn answers, and how Charlie used to be so limited in his responses before eventually learning how to write, just to get a chance to speak to you all. And without interruption, Monica hears you out with interest in her brown eyes.

Though, saying it all aloud leaves you bewildered.

“They’re all so human,” you mumble toward the end, almost as if the idea is surprising. “I used to be afraid of the workers. They’re faceless and quiet. I never considered them as people when I first met them because I was so afraid. But as I got to see more of them, that view changed.”

“They’re just prisoners here, like you said,” Monica points out with a pitiful half-smile. “I try to take care of them where I can. The nurses especially seem to be so attentive to me. If they knew me before, maybe I was nice to them even back then. I couldn’t imagine myself being hurtful.”

“What about the other workers?” You question. “You really don’t know any of them?”

“No. I suppose because I don’t see them nearly as much,” answers Monica. “As there’s five nurses, there’s probably also five of the cleanup workers, too.”

“Only five of each?” You’re left surprised. “I thought the facility was much bigger than that. I thought it’d take much more of them to keep it in shape.”

“It’s quite large, I hear. But with the groups being smaller than they used to be, apparently there’s no need for too many workers.” Monica explains. “Think on it—all they do is clean up rooms and bodies, or else help around in active medical procedures or examinations. Their only task here is to do these things on command.”

“They’re slaves to this place,” you remark unhappily, curling your hand against the flesh of Monica’s thigh. “Like us in a way. But worse.”

“Worse?”

“We get to be fed nice meals and live comfortably in our beds at the cost of being used by you. They have to be locked away and drugged up to stay loyal, only coming out when ordered, and only here to do work. I don’t think they have any comfortable places like we do, with all those things to do to keep us distracted. And then their voices…they don’t even get to talk. Your boss doesn’t want them to.”

You shake your head slightly. “Lucius seemed to imply I’d become one if the day ever came that I wasn’t needed. Like he wanted the opportunity to turn me into a husk of a person. One he could abuse, one who would probably even want to be abused just to get a fix of a terrible drug.”

“If ever that happens, know I’ll always treat you kindly, Ten,” Monica assures you. Her assurance is but a negative reminder that it’s still a real possibility, but she understands how she’s coming across and isn’t the least bit pleased to say it. “I don’t want that to happen. But I can’t control the way things are here.”

She sighs. “I’m even as curious as you are about how this place operates. I always want to follow a worker down a hall I’m not allowed into, but I know I shouldn’t.”

“I guess I understand why you’re afraid, but…” You let your sentence trail off, not wanting to offend Monica with another potential rousing of the topic of escape.

You know she won’t lift a finger to help you, no matter what. Any grand plan you could ever think of would have to hinge on an outsider’s help, but she can’t do much. She’s scared. It should be clear why she’s scared. But just what happened between her and The Overseer?

Even for as afraid of the man as you are, you still cut it too close a lot of the time. You would hardly call yourself the biggest risk taker, but sometimes you just let things slip out even when you know you shouldn’t. Sometimes you just pry even when you know there’ll be consequences. You’re stubborn that way. Like Twelve, you make a lot of your own stupid decisions, and sometimes it gets you far.

You wish Monica could be bolder too. And you wish the others could trust her as you do. If that could happen, maybe…

“I don’t know, Ten,” her voice shakes you. “It’s a lot to think about.”

Fair enough.

Eventually, you have to say your goodbyes to Monica as Yosuke collects you for the night. In your tired state, you don’t care that you have to curl up against him.

“You seem down today,” he notes of your weary disposition. You only let out a childish grumble, leaving Yosuke to laugh gently.

“Dear, are things well?” You can tell me if they aren’t.”

You only wonder whether he heard anything tonight, but he doesn’t really seem to be acting as cheeky as he has before when he’s eavesdropped.

“Everything’s going normally, I guess,” you mutter.

“Normally?” Yosuke balances you against himself so he can punch in your room code. You cling to his neck, both arms wrapped around him for a bit until he finally goes in and sits you on your bed.

“Nothing to report.”

“And the boy?”

You suppose he could be talking about any of the guys in the group, but by the sharpness of his words in that statement, you know well who he means.

“No trouble,” you mumble, avoiding Yosuke’s olive eyes. However, he tips your chin up as he stands at your bedside, and makes you face him.

“The truth?” He demands.

You practically plead. “It’s the truth. He’s been too drugged up to do anything but talk.”

“Has he hurt your feelings, my pet?”

You shake away from your doctor, huffing. “He’s always hurtful. He’s full of hate. Are you going to beat him for just calling me names or making me question myself? Huh?”

Yosuke frowns. “Of course not. Are you still worried about that? It’s been quite a few days since it happened.”

“Don’t do that,” you snap. “Don’t try to play it off. All these days, I’ve been dealing with the aftermath. With you. With him. You scared me! I don’t want to keep playing this game with you, Yosuke! I don’t want to be afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting someone hurt because you’re so overprotective! I’m only doing what you want, being like you want, because I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“Lay down.” Yosuke ignores you.

“Yosuke, please. I have so much to fear already. I don’t want to be afraid of you that way.”

“There’s no need to be,” your doctor attempts to be some kind of reassuring. When you don’t lay down, he guides you by your hip and shoulder, leaning over your bed to get you to fall back. “I said I wouldn’t ever hurt you that way.”

When he leans in closer, you wind up planting your hands on his shoulders to push him back, but it’s a pitiful attempt. You let out a breath as his lips meet your neck.

“You like this better, don’t you?” He coos against your ear, leaving you blushing. “I haven’t had the time to help with this. I haven’t been quite so attentive. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been so distracted with terrible thoughts.”

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, even as his flurry of kisses and hot breaths leave you woozy.

“I’m trying to argue with you! This isn’t what I need,” you breathe.

“You’re stressed,” Yosuke analyzes, hand running down your thigh. “I can’t give you a lot of time, but I will give you this.”

“Yosuke…”

“Spread your legs, pet.”

It occurs to you that he never got around to pulling the comforter over your body, so you’re completely open to him.

“I don’t need-“

“It’s just for a little bit,” you’re interrupted before you can repeat yourself. “It will make you feel better.”

You mean it’ll shut me up!

By now, your doctor is already tugging your panties down and spreading your legs for you. With the distraction of all his kissing, you hadn’t even noticed he started already.

Before you can protest further, Yosuke presses one of his knees on the bed to steady himself, and moves his face down until he reaches your mouth and shrouds it with his own. His hands work your body so smoothly, though his touch is a bit more eager and forceful than other times. You reach and grip at his upper arms instead, muffling a few protests into his mouth that trail off into weary moans as your doctor cups at each side of your jaw with both hands, sliding his warmth down your neck and along your chest until you’re covered in him.

You’re already tired, yet grow dizzy under his spell and don’t even notice he’s fully gotten on the bed and moved his hands away to unbuckle his belt until you hear the familiar sound of clinking and clothy shuffling.

When his lips pull away from yours, Yosuke murmurs.

“It’s going to be tight. Try to relax.”

He isn’t taking his time, just trying to shut you up and distract you from everything. Of course, he’s no less eager to fuck you again after so long, and so he wastes no time adjusting himself to do so.

You shiver feeling his palm push away one of your thighs and keep you spread out.

You keep begging and begging in your daze for him to stop, that this isn’t going to change what you’re feeling, but all Yosuke does is push himself into you. It’s been a few days since you had someone his size, and so you wind up letting out a surprised gasp as he pushes and prods past your entrance. His warmth is strong, but you find it hard to take him in so easily without being as wet as you could be.

Yosuke grunts as he feels you around his cock, but he doesn’t force it too much, so as not to cause you pain. When you grip his sleeves harder, he leans down to shower you in more kisses, leaning his weight on one arm and elbow against the bed. His other hand occupies itself running down your hip.

“It’s alright,” he breathes against your ear. “Relax.”

You can’t really fight him on it, and are left to just take him. He moves his hips slowly, working your body at an even pace until you’re finally wet enough to take more. And when he’s reached that point, he doesn’t hesitate to speed up.

You can’t even get in a word, no less a syllable of his name as he fucks you with such eager strides. You breathe and sigh and whimper between his forceful kisses, with him only pausing to observe your face and your cries.

Your grip on his shirt grows tighter and tighter as you’re fucked, as you’re felt up and kissed and beat with hot breaths from your doctor’s mouth and nose.

He pumps and pumps and pumps in and out of you, until your body gives in and starts to yearn for release. Into Yosuke’s mouth, you let out a long, whining moan, shutting your eyes as you can’t bear the excitement any longer.

He doesn’t fuck you for as long as you expect, but he doesn’t appear to have the time to make it a normal visit of his. The moment you come, he keeps pumping into you until his own orgasm follows, and you’re left weak as he lets his load inside of you with a flurry of heavy breaths and focused grunts. He bucks against you a few more times, until he can’t bring himself to anymore.

Heaving breaths from above you, Yosuke hovers over your face and smiles.

“Better?”

You say nothing and turn your head away, still trying to recover, chest heaving.

Yosuke doesn’t stay inside you. He pulls out slowly, tugs your underwear back up, and gets off the bed.

“I’d like to stay,” he expresses while zipping his pants back up. “I have a few things I need to get done before I come back tomorrow. But I’ll have more time to spoil you someday soon. Alright?”

You say nothing while Yosuke carefully pulls the comforter over your warm body. When you continue to avoid him, he leans himself over you again, hands pressed against the bed, and brings his face closer to yours.

“Alright?” He repeats, lips so close you can feel his words on each breath.. You turn your head the other way.

“I didn’t want a quick fix,” you gripe, still trying to catch your breath. “You did.”

“Of course, pet. But I’d like to point out that you have calmed down.” Yosuke chuckles before planting a kiss on your cheek. “Get some rest, dear. Forget about all that. Focus on tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Your body turns tiredly in your bed once your doctor has gotten off of it. “How many days have passed?”

“Since?” Yosuke stands back up. Though you avoid looking directly at him, you can hear the sliding of fabric and clacking of the pads on his frames as he adjusts his tie, then glasses, which had both gotten a bit crooked in his activity.

“Since what you did. I tried counting, but I stopped. Or maybe I lost track.”

“No more talk of that.” Yosuke is stern. His pleasant demeanor fades slightly.

“It keeps running in my head,” you persist, clutching tightly at the sheets beneath your palm. “I can’t get the image of you covered in blood out of-.”

“Enough.” Yosuke snaps his fingers at you. It’s something you didn’t expect him to do, and something that makes you wince. “I’m being nice, pet. You’ll upset me if you keep pushing. It’s over. You’re safe, and I will keep you that way, no matter what.”

You tense up at the crude tone of his voice, even when you know it’s only a warning.

Regardless, you give up and go quiet, turning again in your comforter, this time away from your doctor. You listen to each footstep he makes as he walks to the door, only to be disheartened when he pauses for just a moment.

“Don’t think me uncaring, Ten. I do sympathize with you,” he tells you. “Good night.”

Your grip on the comforter tightens when you hear the door lock behind him, and finally know that you’re alone.

You find it hard to get comfortable feeling so slippery between your legs after the quick pounding you got, but try to get some sleep. You were already a bit woozy from Monica’s visit, but this was only more taxing on your body. And, by extension, your spirit.

“Dahlia,” you mumble out woefully. “Please tell me this will all get better.”

You receive no answer.

---

The next day promises nothing special. Perhaps humdrum, but maybe you prefer it that way.

Like most days, it starts with Yosuke.

Your initial dream of the garden is again fruitless, though you finally do hear Dahlia call to you as she had before. In your desperation, you beg for her to save you, even run down the aisles of the garden maze to anywhere Dahlia might be, but she says nothing more before you eventually get lost in the maze and wake up to a bright light in your eyes.

Upon assessing you’re on your back, you feel brushing along your thigh as Yosuke moves to either inject you, or to finish up with doing so. It’s not until he pulls away that you realize there’s a sharp discomfort in your leg too, and that it’s the latter.

The light above you is much brighter today, or else it just feels that way. Though you turn your head and watch Yosuke move around and discard the syringe he was using to treat you, you wind up bringing an arm over your head to shield your eyes. It rests on your forehead, and so some of the white ceiling is blocked off by a slightly skewed horizontal line of flesh.

“Are you alright?” Yosuke questions from the counter as he fiddles with his gloves. “You were murmuring in your sleep like you used to.”

You don’t really answer, and just close your eyes while letting air puff out of your nose.

“Ten,” Yosuke warns.

“I’m okay,” you force an answer. You wind up wriggling your thighs around slightly, only to find that the discomforting wetness you felt while in bed last night is now pretty much gone. You figure Yosuke cleaned you up at some point.

“Did you rest?”

“Yeah.” You think you did, anyway. If anything, you’re just disheartened about the dream. Nothing new happened, yet every time you fail to reach Dahlia or get her to respond to you, it’s disappointing. It’s probably impractical to think she ever would, though.

“I see,” Yosuke’s voice resonates in your ear even from a distance. He pauses for a long while as he continues his task, until he suddenly speaks again. “Dear, who’s Dahlia?”

You freeze, eyes opening wide as Yosuke’s voice calmly asks you such a question.

You don’t even know how to answer him. Do you tell the truth? But you don’t even know the truth!

You instead try to redirect him.

“You’ve read my file. Don’t you know?”

“There is no Dahlia in your file.”

Your head starts to spin at this statement. What does he mean? That doesn’t make sense! He has to be lying.

“There should be,” you shakily mumble. “I…”

Your heart thumps as Yosuke’s footsteps are heard calmly coming your way.

“I asked you to tell me what you know, Ten,” he reminds you. “I won’t turn you in for it.”

Your wrist is suddenly clutched by a firm grip, and your arm tugged away to reveal your doctor towering above your bed. He looks down at you with a stern olive gaze, but he doesn’t look pissed. Rather, you’re sure he’s trying to intimidate you out of trying to be coy or give false information.

You’re sure there won’t be harm in telling Yosuke what he’s demanding if he’s hellbent on protecting you from The Overseer, and attempting to lower any risk of losing you. But somehow, you don’t feel like he needs to know. Or rather, you don’t want him to know. Dahlia is your secret, someone who you know. Someone who belongs to you because she’s connected to you.

Giving her to him would feel wrong. But if you don’t…

“I want an answer,” you’re commanded. Yosuke isn’t using a harsh tone, but he is firm.

Your hand balls up slightly, the muscles in your arm giving off a bit of pain as Yosuke continues to hold it above you. “I don’t know her. Just her name.”

“And where did you hear it?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t choose to. When I told you that I heard your boss and Lucius talking in my dreams, that was when I heard.”

You hope this answer will be enough, but Yosuke only drops your wrist and instead pins his hands against the bed, hovering over you. His face remains unexpressive, but you can tell he’s cross.

“Why didn’t you tell me everything when I asked you to?” He demands.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, trying to look anywhere but his face. “I’m-“

“Scared?” Yosuke frowns. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I said it’s important that you tell me these things so I can protect you. I have every right to be upset that you hid that from me.”

“Dahlia’s someone I knew,” you try to reason with him. “Lucius is the one who told that to me. I was just afraid you might restrict me further just so I didn’t hurt myself trying to remember her. But I just don’t remember her at all. All I have left is her voice.”

Yosuke says nothing, observing you closely. You wind up stammering, attempting to babble on as if your case is going to be helped any.

“W-what did you even mean by saying she’s not in my file?!” You demand. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Whoever she was, she wasn’t mentioned there,” is all Yosuke says. “I don’t know why. But clearly she’s causing you a lot of stress. And clearly, I have Lucius to thank for making it worse. I had hoped his involvement in your confinement would be the last of it. But he enjoys pecking, and your circumstance makes it easy for him to.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

“I can’t help what goes on in my head, Yosuke,” you argue. “I promise I won’t hurt myself like I did. I just want to hear her voice because it’s the only reassurance I have that I was someone before all this!”

“I’ve told you time and time again to accept that you’re here now,” Yosuke is firm.

You refuse him. “I can only accept it so much. Just let me hold onto her. Please. I can’t gain anything from it even when I want to. And even if you tell me no, she won’t just go away.”

Yosuke lets out a long breath from his nose.

“What else are you hiding?”

“I told you most everything,” you promise him. “I just….”

“Say it. I might still forgive you.”

Yosuke’s eyes open to watch you, but you wind up dodging them. He’s being firm, but because of what happened with Twelve, you fear he might resort to being harsh on you too. Is he telling the truth when he says he won’t hurt you? You can’t be sure. But you don’t want to take the risk now.

“There isn’t a lot,” you try to explain. “I told you most of what happened and what I heard, honest. I just kept those little things from you because I was worried.”

Yosuke’s piercing glare continues to go through you. He waits for you to continue. What more does he want?!

“I’ve just been seeing things in my dreams like I said,” you add. Everything comes spilling out, but there isn’t much else that can at this point. “A rose garden, a maze, a sunset, and you. I’ve dreamt of so many horrible and beautiful things, but I don’t know what’s really a part of me, and what isn’t. The dress I drew was one I wore in my dream. The words you say to me carry on through the version of you that appears there. And every time I sleep, I try to chase Dahlia. I try to call to her, reach out to her, but I can never find her.”

When Yosuke still doesn’t respond, you sigh in defeat. “I’ve heard her voice and yours on and off since that day that I pushed myself, but mostly hers.”

“And what have those voices said?” Yosuke finally demands. You don’t want to tell him, but find yourself forcing it out anyway.

“Dahlia mentioned someone named Jack once,” you relay. “She seemed stressed about something. And once, I heard her tell me she needed to check on something. Other than that, she just keeps calling to me, asking where I am. It’s been the same thing since the days after that incident.”

“And my voice?”

You shut your eyes tight. “You said ‘I see. That’s too bad’. That’s the only time I ever heard you speak in my head, and it was also just after I hurt myself. I don’t know why. I tried not to think about it. I only focused on Dahlia.”

Yosuke goes quiet, and when your eyes open again, you can see him contemplating something. Still, he bids you again to explain more to him.

“That’s all. Really,” you beg him to believe you. “Beyond Dahlia, I was only holding that I knew your boss’ name, and that I only heard it in my dream. I know all the names I shouldn’t—Nicholas, Elias, Dahlia, and…”

You bite your tongue and avoid saying The Overseer’s outright. Maybe it’s paranoia, because you could easily get away with saying it in a private space, or under your breath while Lucius is far away.

“I don’t know the rest. I know nothing about them, nor who any of them are aside from your boss and his father, who he hates. All I know is that Lucius told me Dahlia was someone I was connected to. But he told me I knew her by another name.”

This, you notice, makes Yosuke’s eyes give off a slight bit of surprise. He tries to keep his stern look, but the subtle glint is one you notice quickly.

“I see.” He mutters. “Was that so hard? That’s all I wanted you to do. I’m not attacking you for telling me.”

“It’s not you who will. I don’t want your boss to hurt me for being so frivolous with using those names,” you say. “As it is, Lucius threatened me. He made me tell him what I’d heard and said if I ever uttered your boss’ name again, he’d kill me.”

“Lucius is close with him,” Yosuke lays out the obvious, face scrunched slightly up as he hears about what Lucius said to you. “It hardly surprises me he’s so touchy about that kind of thing. It is the one thing he cares about. Regardless, I’m upset knowing that he keeps toying with and threatening you the way he does. But I can’t do much about it.”

You catch genuine frustration under his feigned inexpressiveness. Were it up to Yosuke, he’d probably antagonize and lash out against the doctors who have continued to scar you just for their own amusement. Lucius and Milos especially have made it a habit to make you as miserable as possible, all with a smile.

You never really thought them alike in any way, never once would have connected them. But knowing now that they have some association together, it starts to make sense just why they are. And were it not for Milos, some others would not have been so poisoned either.

But is it really just his fault? Or were they all always capable of being horrible people? You can’t imagine just where it started, or just what factors influenced everyone to be so rotten. It isn’t just one other person’s doing.

“In any case, I don’t know those two’s histories,” Yosuke presses on. You notice he ignores the mention of the voices you heard, and wonder just why. Regardless, you won’t find out. If it concerns your past, he won’t dare tell you. “I don’t know who they are beyond who they show in this place. With some exception, of course.”

“Exception?” You’re left curious, but Yosuke shuts you down quickly.

“No need to worry about it. To be frank, none of those names are important to you.”

You glower. “Lucius said the same thing. Why is it some great secret?”

“To my superior, it’s personal,” Yosuke answers plainly. “The less we know about him, the better. Most of us know next to nothing about his family and background. However, there are things which may be public simply because my superior’s work aboveground is—to a degree. Even so, he is still able to hide certain kinds of information with his money, with the passage of time, and with the face he wears.”

Your eyes shift away as you start thinking. “Did Elias use to run this place?”

“Ten, I told you those names weren’t important.”

“Then it doesn’t matter whether or not I hear about them,” you push. You want something out of this. You can’t just let Yosuke take from you twice like that. It’s not fair! “You’re already endangering your own self by refusing to turn information into your boss. Information he likely wants as much detail on as possible. So what’s it matter?”

When Yosuke does not answer, you look up at him with a focused glare until you come to realize the reason for his silence, and your eyes widen.

“You don’t know either.”

Yosuke lets out a long-drawn breath from his nose. “My only understanding is that this particular family is somewhat known by specific people who have engaged with this company, likely because there was involvement from them. But I certainly haven’t been around, nor has anyone who might know more been so eager to toss information around. The same limited knowledge can be said of many of his employees.”

“But not all.” You’re again reminded of the members of The Overseer’s inner circle. You can’t fully piece together much of a history between them all, just that Milos and Lucius have known him for a long time, and that Lilah came into play sometime later. Perhaps even Mom knows more given how long she’s been here.

Still, while you are curious to understand the link, while you’d be so eager for more information, that’s not what you’re focused on right now. Something else is overshadowing your thoughts.

“Look, I don’t care about your boss’ father or whoever Nicholas is right now,” you tell your doctor. “I only want to know who Dahlia is. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Because of Lucius?” Yosuke lowers his brows, but you ignore his frustration in lieu of your own.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t know. I won’t ever know. No matter what I do, I can’t remember her. Lucius wants me to suffer knowing that. He said so to my face.”

Yosuke looks on at you with the same inexpressive glare underlined with stifled anger. You at first don’t think he believes you, until his words prove otherwise. “Then why do you invest yourself in a pointless chase?”

Your frustration turns to woe. “Yosuke, I know she’s dead. The way your boss spoke of her, he didn’t make it sound like she was alive. When I think of her, I hurt. When I dream of her, I feel longing and yet miserable. I don’t know who she was. I don’t know why your boss sounded so bitter when he said her name. I don’t know why she isn’t in my file, or if you’re even telling the truth about that. All I know is that I have a link to my past, even if just in the form of a ghost with no face.”

You blink your eyes and try to stop yourself from tearing up. “I’m condemned to die in this place, to suffer here without my memory. Dahlia is all I have left of it. I don’t even remember her, and yet I don’t want to let go of her. I don’t want to lose her voice. I don’t want to stop thinking about her. Please just let me have her. You can’t take her away from me.”

Yosuke continues not to say a word, and instead finally pushes off your bed and sits at your side instead. You sit up immediately, watching him with a nervous eye, waiting for him to say something terrible or act against you. But he stays still, hands resting on his slightly spread knees.

“Loss is painful,” he says. “I have lost members of my family to old age and circumstance, and I have lost peers to tragedy. Think me monstrous if you like, but even I can understand the feeling of hurt loss brings. Many of us can. Perhaps even the men who run this place.”

You remain cautious, but listen on.

“I obviously can’t control all of your thoughts, Ten,” Yosuke remarks. “I don’t blame you for feeling hurt. And I suppose I ought not to harp on you for simply thinking about a forbidden topic. We all do it, really. We wonder just what that man is hiding. Just who he is, beyond what’s known in a public space. But we let these things go and save face, only because we don’t want to cause trouble. Trouble brings risk for us as it does you. There are spots where we might still be a nuisance to him, but we overall fall into place as he wants. And that is what I want out of you.”

Yosuke turns his head to you, face now a bit calmer.

“You’re troublesome, my dear. But you are important to me, and I don’t want you to fall to your demons.”

“Because I’d be useless to you that way,” you mutter bitterly.

“Because I love you, and because I am responsible for you.”

His words contrast with the image of his bloodied knuckles pounding against Twelve’s jaw that flash in your mind again, unprovoked.

Yosuke reaches out his hand and curls his fingers beneath your chin, tenderly touching it but not making an affront to keep your eyes on him. The warmth should be comforting, but you don’t feel comforted. Anything but, really.

“I don’t trust you to fully behave like you keep saying you will, because I know how you are,” Yosuke speaks up again. “I won’t let you make promises you can’t keep. But I won’t stop you from thinking of Dahlia. If it brings you comfort to hear her voice, so be it. But I don’t want you to fall so deep in your obsession with your past that you get yourself hurt even further. A promise is not what I want from you. I will compromise my frustrations over your actions only because I don’t like to see you this upset. But understand that I am still within my right to do as I wish with you when you misbehave.”

You lower your brows, skeptical. “You’re just letting this slide?”

“Am I to do something to stop you from thinking of her? Only my superior has the capacity to fiddle with that head of yours in quite a literal sense.”

You remain sharp, and finally clue Yosuke in.. “He has been. I can tell when I miss days. Something about the way the others talk clues me in.”

Yosuke gives a subtle, knowing smile. “Perceptive, my pet. Do be cautious with that.”

“He won’t find anything,” you remain certain. “He’s trying to study me. He doesn’t understand me, or why I’ve reacted this way to what he’s done to my head. Is that it?”

“I certainly don’t know, but it seems that way,” Yosuke remarks, thinking on it silently. “Regardless, my point is that your mind is his responsibility. I can only do so much, but it’s much more than you might assume. A mind is a mind. Body and spirit can easily be overtaken.”

Yosuke’s hand withdraws from you. “I’ll say it this way, pet—So long as it doesn’t cause problems, I’ll permit you to dwell on that one name a little.”

You scoff and look away. “You’re basically saying to me that you’re giving me permission to think what I want. Like that’s a privilege. I have thoughts and feelings of my own, Yosuke.”

Strangely, your doctor gives a throated chuckle. “Believe me, I know.”

The day starts off sour this way despite the mild “victory”, but you guess that plucking at Yosuke’s vile heartstrings with your pleas is a good thing. While he’s capable of being monstrous, you suppose there’s still part of you that can reach him, so long as he isn’t hellbent on anything else. When he’s riled up enough is when you lose him, it seems.

Still, his gentle reaction toward the end isn’t much of a reassurance. He still did and continues to do cruel things to you, and pretends that being sweet with you afterward is going to make it better. You don’t care if he might actually feel bad. You won’t forgive him.

You’re bitter that he fucked you in an attempt to shut you up, and again tried to get you to give up what he knows you hold dear. There’s no reaching him fully. But you aren’t incapable of taking a positive outcome either—at least today, he listened. In his own twisted way, you guess. But he left you alone, and that’s all you wanted.

You feared he’d have done much worse. Even as he carries you off and continues to act sweet with you as if nothing you two said was exchanged, as if he didn’t just grab your wrist or scare you with his tone, you continue to fear so.

The rest of the day is fairly tame, so far as you can tell. Though, you do bump into Lilah in the hall, talking at Monica, to whom she delivered a file, about some grim topic—recent bodies from elsewhere, mainly. You try not to listen, but it’s hard to avoid when Yosuke has to stop and wait for the gate to open.

Lilah pays you no mind, letting her focus stay mainly on her talk with a clearly hesitant Monica who isn’t apparently fond of discussing manners of death. However, Lilah does side-eye Yosuke quite a few times. It’s clear by the way he keeps himself stiff, even with his eyes facing forward, that he notices her trailing look. Their exchange is silent, and neither doctor once bothers to say anything to the other. And since Mom’s around and hiding from the woman she hates, she’s the one who opens the gate for you.

Once you’re in, your doctor doesn’t stick around.

“It’s about lunchtime. You should eat something,” is all he says while giving your head a light pet. “I apologize for not making the time to feed you, but I’ve got a lot to attend to today.”

With all the miserable conversation, you really don’t feel hungry, so you don’t bother going to the cafeteria. Rather, you poke around the other rooms, hoping to find friends, but knowing you also risk running into Twelve.

Some of the Numbers are absent today, save for a few whose doctors were reportedly busy with this or that like yours. Your search around the recreational areas leads to a discovery of Cyrus and Eight having a long-drawn discussion in the library that you feel bad for marching in on. The way they look up at you with dull and unhappy faces makes it clear they were discussing something heavy, and it makes you hesitant to stick around or interrupt even when you know your company isn’t unwelcome. Afterward, you move on and find Violet and Lav together in the pool area.

“You could join us, you know,” Lav encourages you with a smile as she hangs on the edge of the pool, looking up at you. With her hair down, ends floating about in the water, she looks so much different. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her in anything other than a braid, frankly. You can’t help but be a bit taken by the sight. “We can pull back on the whole competition thing.”

“Competition?” You question, trying to play along. “Who’s winning?”

“I’m a rock, not a swan,” Lav shrugs after briefly turning her head to look at a flushed Violet. “I’m not gonna lie—she’s better than me.”

“Something the mighty Nine can’t do?” You tease, not wanting to seem too solemn in front of her. “I’m surprised.”

With a laugh, Lav playfully splashes a bit of water over the edge of the pool in response, but it barely reaches your toes before pooling around your feet instead. “Hey, everyone’s got their specialty. I sure as hell can’t play a violin let alone swim a marathon.”

Violet blushes. “I appreciate the flattery, but a marathon’s not nearly what I’m swimming in a pool like this. I’d need something way bigger.”

Lav raises a brow. “You know that how?”

“I just do. Like Eight knows how to play his violin, I know how to swim. And frankly, your strokes need work. All muscle, no form. Swimming’s as much an art as it is a pastime.”

Lav then sighs and hangs her head. “Oh god, you sound exactly like him.”

“Anyway, I’m fine,” you reject the prior offer, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I don’t really feel all that jolly today.”

“Maybe you’d be better off staying,” Violet warns, leaning against the pool’s edge like Lav. “Twelve’s around today. Think he’s brooding or fuming or something in the rec room. I’d avoid it if I were you.”

You frown. “Thanks for the tip. I don’t wanna see him right now. He freaked me out the other day. Got too close, but didn’t do anything, other than maybe hurt my feelings. But what else is new, I guess?”

“With how fucked up he is, he can’t do much anyway,” Lav scoffs, annoyed to hear what happened. “Almost makes you feel bad for him. Almost.”

You brush aside this comment. “I saw Cyrus and Eight together a little while ago. But is anyone else around?”

Lav gives you a long look, wondering whether to intervene after you mentioned a low mood. However, she thinks better than to pester you and potentially make it worse, so she gives you some space and keeps the conversation casual. “Five was in the infirmary again for a while, but got taken back to her room. Apparently she had another bad spell, though I heard she was throwing up a lot on top of it. But Six wasn't with her while she was here. She just never showed up. Blue did for a little while, but she got yanked out for a few visits.”

Six’s case strikes you as odd, but you suppose she might be busy with Gale. You only hope Five’s okay—last time you explicitly heard she was ill, Six was so worried about her. But you thought Gale usually helped out with Five in those cases? You wonder what’s got them preoccupied, and, consequently, whether Six is okay.

“I do think Pickle and the twins are around somewhere, though,” adds Lav.

“Together?” You’re surprised given that Three and her brother were still sort of in disagreement. But you suppose it’s expected Three wouldn’t want to be alone, even if it means being around her brother and Pickle, watching them laugh together.

“Not sure where at,” Lav goes on, “but I know they came in and bugged us for a bit before deciding not to engage since Vi and I were both kind of into our heated battle.”

Violet chuckles condescendingly. “Please, it wasn’t much of a battle. You’re no match for me.”

“Oho?” Lav catches her playful tone. “Let’s go again, then. Loser has to listen to Blue rant about color theory later or something.”

You sigh. “At least make sure to take a break sometime. Alright?”

“We’ve got water bottles stashed around, no worries,” Violet assures you. “We won’t be in too much longer anyway. After this quick race, we’ll probably need a break from swimming.”

Lav fails to respond to this and is instead left disheartened at your words, frowning. “Aren’t you sticking around then?”

“I’d rather not leave Three alone with the guys.” You shrug. “Not while she’s still feeling kind of upset about a lot.”

“I guess that’s fair. We’ll see you later, maybe?” Lav remains hopeful. It’s admittedly endearing that she wants to be around you, but right now you don’t need much excitement. It’s odd to say, but Three being as down as you right now makes spending some time with her more alluring. Seeing smiling faces isn’t your preference right now. You have to endure watching Two and Pickle be themselves, sure, but at least Three and you can probably sit aside and be sad together.

Who knows? Maybe it’s selfish, but you would be getting something out of it while also helping her too. That’s not a bad deal.

You leave the girls to their little competition, none too eager to get splashed or hear tons of noise from the activity. Lav continues to look at you, but eventually does start to push off the side of the pool to go to her starting position once you’re committed to heading toward the doors.

You feel a bit guilty leaving her hanging, but just don’t know where to go right now. You don’t feel quite well after everything, yet being alone isn’t a good option with Twelve still wandering around.

You wind up finding the three other Numbers together in the gym, of all places. You never expected they’d be doing anything physical given they prefer to play games and joke around over anything else, but you’re just glad they have something to keep them occupied.

Two and Pickle remain on the court, bouncing around a basketball and taking scored pot shots as opposed to playing normally the way Lav would. Being here feels a bit awkward after you just let her down, but you try to ignore it for now.

Three, you notice, is huddled up against a nearby padded wall. She could have easily just sat on the bench, yet you find her sitting curled up on the floor, knees folded and arms enveloping one another atop them. The boys don’t immediately notice you, nor do you really go to them first. Only once you get close to Three do they catch you, and give a casual greeting.

You decline their offer to play, and instead plop down by Three. Though you expected she’d snub you in her gloomy state, her slight smile is reassuring. As you figured, she was desperate for the company. With Five out, she’s been alone.

“They’ve been at it for a while,” she says, almost grumbling out. “But I didn’t want to do something myself with Twelve around.”

“Ditto.” You lean back against the padded wall, legs outstretched and arms wrapping around your body. “I did hear from Nine that you were all around, though. Figured I’d come save you from having to watch these guys go at it.”

Three gives a subtle laugh. “Yeah. Thanks. You look like you need someone too.”

You frown. “It’s that obvious? I guess I’ve been feeling a lot lately. It’s been quite a few days since what happened, but even with nothing really going on, I’ve still felt this whirlwind of….”

You wind up trailing off and reconnecting your thoughts. “…Well I dunno. Stuff. It’s just been a lot. I guess at least it hasn’t been as bad as it’s been before.”

“It can always get worse,” Three mutters, looking down. “I’m getting tired of it.”

“You’ve been doing so well for so long, haven’t you?” You try to keep upbeat for her. “I know it’s been hard, but you’ve outlasted a lot of us. That must mean you’re pretty strong.”

“I’m not, but thanks for trying.”

You bite your lip. “Hey, maybe it’s not healthy to look at things so negatively. I know you’re frustrated about Twelve and your brother, but-“

“I don’t really feel like talking about it now,” Three tries to stop you. “When the damage Twelve did is fixed, maybe I’ll feel a little better.”

“I hope so,” you relay unhappily. “I hate seeing you like this. I wish Five were here to help out, but I hear she’s sick today.”

“Her doctor gave her drugs again, and she couldn’t keep down her food when she tried to eat.” Three scowls a bit. “I wish they weren’t like this to us.”

Is this something she actually wants to talk about? You notice she’s unusually bitter today. But at the same time, you can’t really disagree with the sentiment.

“Yeah.” You wind up sighing. The weight of your stresses again presses upon you with just those few words she uttered. “Yeah, I do too.”

Three leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling. “I know it’s gonna make you worry, but I really wanted to sleep in today. I’ve been kinda tired lately.”

The remark makes you tense up a bit. The girl she cared so much about and then lost started out the same way. You suppose Three expected you’d make the connection given her mild warning, but it’s not like you shouldn’t be worried at all. Still, you try to move the conversation along.

“Your doctor didn’t let you stay in?”

“Him and Jonathan were busy,” Three says with a shrug. “They were both considering letting me and my brother stay in our rooms today though. I heard them mentioning putting us out, but I couldn’t hear a lot of what else they were saying. Either way, I wish they did keep us there. Just for a while.”

You watch Two shoot at the hoop on the far left end of the court, but the ball bounces off the rim and shoots back to the floor with a hard WHUMP.

“My bed’s comfortable,” Three goes on. Her eyes trail the bouncing ball on the court as it slows to a dribble, then is promptly chased after by Pickle. “My doctor lets me sleep in sometimes. It’s nice.”

“Hate to agree, but I like it too now and then,” you admit. “But I mainly like it when my doctor leaves me alone.”

“Doesn’t he rarely do that?”

You huff, annoyed. “Yeah.”

This procures a pitiful laugh from Three, though she doesn’t say much else. While she gives off a bit of gloom, she doesn’t mind your company at all, even if all she does after this is sit quietly and watch her brother and Pickle continue to take shots at the hoop. For quite a while, you might add.

You watch too, but let your mind sort of wander while your eyes continue to observe the moving bodies and ball as if on autopilot. All you can think about is your shortcomings as of late, and of the things you discussed with Yosuke.

It still bugs you that what you said about the voices seemed to get Yosuke thinking, and you continue to wonder what the hell made him drop any mention of it. He must know something.

Still, Dahlia is what matters most to you, and is what you’re most concerned with. However, you realize you weren’t being faithful when you said The Overseer’s links with the names you heard, and the history he has doesn’t interest you. It’s nothing that would really help you understand why you’re in this position, you don’t think. It’s nothing that would even be beneficial to you outside of just having one less question in your head.

You still don’t know who Nicholas is, nor why The Overseer was so bitter about both him and Dahlia the way he was about his own father. A part of you wonders if maybe they were all relatives or coworkers or something. When Lucius had said Nicholas’ name, you recall he had implied The Overseer could have potentially worked alongside him. Not under. Not above.

Even so, it’s hard to tell just what he meant. You’d asked if Elias had run things before, but now wonder if Nicholas had any hand in it too.

Still, whether they’re friends, family, or coworkers, they were something. And on that note, you’d hate to think you’re also related to The Overseer in any way too, whether by blood or by acquaintance. But if Dahlia is linked to him, and you to her, then you’d have to be linked to him too. Somehow.

Is that why her name isn’t on your file? Does he not want anyone knowing that?

Are you just reaching for answers or are they valid? This is exasperating, now that you’re sitting here thinking about it. You tried not to focus on it, but if you have to focus on Dahlia, you have to focus on The Overseer too.

Supposing it were true that he and you are connected, it doesn’t explain his cruelty to you. You’d say it might explain his willingness to let you live, but you’re convinced it’s just for a selfish reason that he’s done so.

All this is just another branch in your frustration with this place.

The thought of branches only leaves your mind to think of trees, then of family by association.

A family…even though you’ve mulled it over before, it’s still shocking to think The Overseer had one. You can’t picture him as a boy in his mother’s lap or held by his father’s hand. You can’t picture anything about him except his horrid, frighteningly tense expression, and of the barrel of his revolver pointed right at you.

Your hand clenches up slightly, cupping the handle of an imaginary gun while hidden behind your thigh so that Three can’t see you making the gesture. You think back to when The Overseer gave you his gun, to when he berated you for not having the courage to even try killing him. Even now, when you’re just trying to pull an imaginary trigger, practically able to feel the cold, hard metal in your hands even long after you’d touched a real gun, you struggle to commit to it. Your index finger curls around the invisible trigger but freezes and trembles in place. In the end, you relax your hand and let it rest on the hard floor.

Twelve would have been better suited for The Overseer’s expectations, not you. If he wanted a fighter, he finally got one. But you’re not so sure a fighter is really what he was seeking to begin with.

Then what?

When you eventually stop watching the two Numbers on the basketball court, your head turns to your right, and you notice that Three has slumped over a bit with her eyes drooping. When you reach a hand out to shake her slightly, she just barely responds with an “mm?”, but no more.

“Hey, if you’re tired, lay down,” you advise her. “Maybe the theater beds would be more comfortable.”

“Don’t wanna get up,” is all Three mumbles back slowly.

She doesn’t wait for you to suggest anything else and instead lets her body shift around so she can lay across the gym floor. Curling up with her feet facing you, the young Three gets herself ready to nap again like the few times you’ve seen her before. You don’t bother her, though Two and Pickle do eventually notice she’s shifted and become limp, and call a timeout on their game to come to you.

“Everything good?” Pickle asks with a frown. “Sorry you guys were just kind of there.”

“She’s tired,” you relay bluntly while noticing Two eyeing his sister with a bit of concern. He doesn’t comment on it, however. “But she’ll be fine.”

Pickle expels a long breath after having worked his body up for a bit. His hands plant onto his hips, and he rolls his head around. “Yeah, I’m getting there myself.”

“Can’t handle a bit of activity?” Two teases, shaking away his concern temporarily, perhaps for his own sake. “Maybe if you’d eaten more earlier, you would have had more energy.”

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t eat anything at all!” Pickle whines. “Why do you have more energy?”

You place a hand on your stomach and puff out a cheek. “I haven’t eaten either, actually. Yosuke didn’t bring me breakfast like he often does. Not like I’m complaining.”

“Breakfast in bed is the worst,” Two expresses disgust. “I don’t wanna be stared at by my doctor while I’m trying to eat. And anyway, it’s probably good you didn’t have anything earlier. The food tasted kind of funky this morning, so I skipped out. A lot of people did, I heard.”

You give Two a half-worried look while processing this information. “That’s…weird.”

It doesn’t give you a good feeling.

Two waves his hand around. “Eh, I figured I’d try again for lunch. I could use a bit of energy before resting up.”

Pickle chuckles. “What? You shouldn’t eat before laying down. It’s bad for you.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” Two raises a brow, though he can’t help but grin at his friend. “If you’re so tired, why don’t you hang back for a bit? We can keep playing later.”

Though Pickle thinks on this for a brief moment, he eventually realizes his assessment of his current state is more than meets the eye. He gives a bit of a frown and a sigh.

“Actually, to be completely honest, I could use a quick nap too. I think Three’s got the right idea.”

“Then take one, egghead,” Two huffs out a laugh. “I’ll go get a snack or something so I don’t feel winded when we start up again.”

Pickle only smiles and gives a brief departing comment to Two, but otherwise decides to sit on the floor somewhere near Three and lean back against the padded wall. His eyes close, though he promises he should be fine again after a few minutes of rest.

Two, however, extends his hand to you and invites you to come with him to the cafeteria.

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” he says. “You’ve been running on empty this whole time you’ve been watching us.”

You take his hand and let him help you up. “Yeah, and you’ve been shooting baskets without a source of energy. How’s that?”

“Dunno. I’m kind of a hyper guy.” Two shrugs. “But don’t think Pickle ate a full meal before he came. I watched him take a few bites of toast and call it enough. No wonder the guy’s so skinny.”

You both head to the gym doors, but Two’s the one who peeps his head out to make sure the coast is clear before you both head out across the hall.

“Okay, so maybe I was lying,” your companion remarks after thinking things over. “I am kinda tired. But I am super hungry.”

You shake your head. “You could have just admitted that to him.”

Two laughs. “Hey, I gotta keep my opponent on his toes and pretend I’m completely fine.”

“You sure seemed so until you saw Three.”

This makes Two’s smile drop. “Well, yeah. She’s been sleeping a lot lately.”

“You noticed too?” You then roll your eyes briefly and retract your statement. “No, of course you would.”

After you’ve both approached the cafeteria counter, Two gives the pane a few light knocks with the back of his knuckle, calling for Charlie. However, he goes back to conversing with you just after while waiting for the worker’s response. The both of you stand facing one another rather than the counter.

“I notice a lot about her,” Two says rather unhappily. “She’s acted like this before. She’ll be okay, but she’s mainly not doing so well because I haven’t really been doing for her what she wants me to. Beyond just general comfort, anyway. I’m still spending lots of time with her.”

You sigh with relief. “I thought-“

“I’m trying not to anymore,” Two cuts you off, embarrassed by the topic. “Look, I love her, but I’m trying to set boundaries. She’s just not really happy about it. And I thought at first that maybe she was just being excessive just for my attention, or throwing some kind of tantrum, but she isn’t. She’s really hurting. Probably because she’s dealing with me and the loss of all the work she did in the crafts room at the same time. You know how things overwhelm her.”

“Twelve stresses her out to no end, like all of us,” You shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself again. “Your sister just wants things to be okay, but forgets that isn’t always possible here.”

Two frowns. “At least she isn’t being mean to Pickle anymore. But she still feels out of place even when she tries to be around us more. I feel bad about it, but I can’t help that we have different interests sometimes. She just wants to be included, but always feels excluded because she can’t relate.”

He groans and brings a hand to his forehead. “God, I’m starting to get grumpy. I just need something in my stomach. Where’s Charlie at, anyway?”

Your eyes shift toward the counter. “That’s a good-“

You suddenly hear a distant but definitely audible metal clattering that shuts you up and brings both you and Two to attention.

“What was that?” He questions, turning his body to face the counter fully. “Charlie? You there?”

As he knocks on the pane, you eye it intensely. Something feels off, but you don’t want your mind to run. No, it has to be something innocent. Maybe he’s just fumbling around and didn’t hear Two knocking. Maybe-

“Should we call someone?” Two questions. “I hope he’s okay.”

His words take you aback. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

Still, you’re left discomforted, and decide maybe it’s best to try following the advice.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Two, giving no chances for him to give input on the decision. You feel uncomfortable leaving him behind, but promise yourself it will only be a moment anyway. Your only frustration for now, however, is that you’ll wind up having to deal with Mom again if you call for a doctor.

When you exit the cafeteria, you expect the hall to be empty like before. But when it isn’t, your next layer of concern is over the fact that you don’t see doctors to your right, by the gate.

Instead, you see a single body to your left, and it isn’t one that’s standing.

Immediately, your head turns toward it, and you’re left with the sight of Twelve crumpled on the floor, positioned between the two open doors of the rec room. His face is down and turned, cheek nestled against the hard floor, so you can’t quite tell if he’s awake or alive or anything at all until you run to him in a panic.

“Twelve?!” You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. It takes a lot of strength, but you wind up pulling him by his armpits out of the rec room doors, finally allowing them to close. You kneel next to him and, with both hands, grab the young man’s tan clothes by his side and try to turn him on his back.

Your panic only slightly lessens when you catch his chest rising and falling just barely enough for you to know he’s breathing. His mouth is agape as he sucks in air through his mouth, though you notice his breaths are weak and his rhythm is slow. What’s worse, Twelve’s eyes are glazed over, and he’s unable to really focus on you. His emerald irises do shift your way, but he gives no indication of recognizing you.

“Twelve, are you-” You stop yourself when his eyes close, and he finally succumbs to his exhaustion.

Your own eyes widen upon realizing why everyone was so tired. Even you feel it, now that you try to assess yourself. But you had already felt so down that you didn’t register it as anything more than a product of your mood. You didn’t even realize what it might have been.

Rather than run to check anyone else, you gasp and run back to Two.

He turns away from the counter upon hearing your loud footsteps against the floor, then gives a look of surprise once he sees how panicked you look. You can’t tell what face you’re making, but it must be a bit frenzied for him to respond this way.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” He questions, but you don’t do more than grab his wrist and tug at it.

“We have to get out of here!” You tell him. It dawns on you just what’s going on, but while you don’t explicitly know why, the ideas now surging through your head are no less horrifying. If the others are being put out, you would do well to join them, because you don’t think anything good is going to come out of being awake right now.

Why you’re both even awake to begin with baffles you, but there’s not enough time to think it over. Your only reaction is to flee, and to protect Two any way you can.

But he doesn’t budge, and instead tugs away in defense.

“What’s up with you?” He’s left baffled. “Ten, are you okay? What did you see?”

His tone is deceptively light. He isn’t pretending it’s no big deal. You can see by the wide-eyed look on his freckled face that he’s starting to panic too, not just because you are, but because he was just as concerned about what he heard. And, like you, he probably didn’t want to think of the worst possible scenario. Unfortunately, just like you, he wants to know the reason for the direness.

You can’t tell him why.

“No time,” you beg, still tugging at his wrist. “Let’s just go! Anywhere!”

Your voice is louder than it was before, you notice. But that hardly matters. You just want to get out of here.

“But what about-“ Before Two can finish his question, you both are left jumping at a loud sound that, at least to you, is unfortunately familiar.

You both freeze and look toward the counter, eyeing the pane and the dark space beneath it in fear. While your hands start to shake, you keep your grip on Two no matter what.

Neither of you says a word. Silence falls after the loud banging noise, and all it does is cause your ears to ring and burn even if you were nowhere near enough for the sound to have caused it. No, it’s instinct. It’s a response to what you remember.

You have to leave. You know that. But now you find it hard to get your legs to move at all. You’re stuck, frozen solid as the silence takes hold of you and Two both.

And in an instant, it’s interrupted by another sound. A loud metal BANG to your right that’s much louder than the previous noises. Immediately, you recognize it as being made against the locked door by the counter.

The first bang is so loud that you both jump again, but the noise doesn’t stop there. The same bang against the metal is heard again, and again, and again. Each one comes with a few seconds in between, and each one makes you twitch and jump and shake.

“Two,” you whisper, voice wavering. “We need to go.”

But he’s as frozen solid as you. As tense as you. As shaky as you. He won’t budge.

The time between the banging noises spreads further with each one, until eventually another loud shot rings out, and the banging stops.

The following silence lasts longer this time, and you are left with your heart beating so hard that it’s practically in your throat.

Not again. Not again. Please.

But just as you beg for the universe to spare you from having to witness what you know to be true, the door opens, and a body falls forward from it and onto the white floor with a loud THUMP.

Blood is the first thing you see. As the figure and its hands slide off of the open door and frame, blood is what smears against it. Blood comes first, then a mess of hair and damp clothes sticking to the chest of the limp body as it lays motionless on the ground.

The figure is of a man, one who may have once been fit, but has been reduced to a husk of what he once was. His face is hidden behind outstretched, thin arms and a crumpled mess of loose strands of dark hair that failed to be tucked into the low, thin ponytail on his head.

He isn’t covered like a normal worker, though his lower body, from what you can see, has the same portion of the uniform. Around his waist is where his top-half covering has been tied, and only from the waist down does the limp man give the impression of the kind of worker you’re familiar with

His torso is adorned with the same sleeveless shirt you saw on another worker so long ago, yet it’s covered with sweat and blood that likely splattered and ran onto him from above. You only know this is the case, because you know the work of the man responsible for this—when the intent is to kill, he shoots in the head. But because his victim had managed to keep his focus long enough to bang on the door, and because there’s blood all over, you assume his assailant didn’t hit his target the first time.

The area behind the door is obscured by dim light, and you can't make out anything inside except a standing figure, observing the motionless body on the floor before it.

You suddenly feel Two’s arm fall and become heavy enough that you have no choice but to let his wrist go. Looking over, you see he’s fallen to the floor, sitting in a wide-eyed panic as he observes the dead body spilling out into the room.

“You shouldn’t be here.” The voice behind the door sounds out harshly, shaking you into looking right back at it. With a careful step around Charlie’s body, Lucius brings himself out of the dark and into the cafeteria. He grips his silver pistol in his hand, but does not keep it pointed at anyone and instead holds it down by his side. And at his side, connected to his hip by a strap of some kind, hangs his gas mask. The red eyepieces are unmistakable.

You shiver in his presence, but say nothing as the dark-haired man eyes you with contempt. He isn’t cheeky this time, just annoyed.

“I see someone didn’t do her job correctly,” He gripes under his breath, and you’re led to assume Mom is the one responsible. You knew from the last time you experienced being drugged in one of the recreational rooms that she was responsible for it, after all.

Lucius lets out a bothered breath of air from his nose and turns his gun up, pointing it at the ceiling with his arm bent. “What a nuisance.”

“Y-you killed him,” you shakily remark as your eyes look back down to Charlie’s dead body. Blood continues to spill from his head. The more you see of it, the more you want to vomit.

Blood is everywhere. On him, on the door, on the ground, and even splattered on Lucius’ shirt and knuckles. You can only assume Charlie had attempted to put up a fight, but the thought of that only weakens your heart further.

“Aren’t you a sharp one?” Lucius makes fun of you, though his tone remains displeased He wears no furious scowl on his face, but he does look at you with vilification. “Intrusive thing. You must be a sadist after all.”

It’s only Two peeping out that grabs his attention from you.

“You…” Two looks up at Lucius with wide eyes, mouth agape and hands shaking as they press against the floor. You’ve never seen him look this tense before.

Lucius simply tilts his head. “Me? Have we met?”

You feel a striking terror in your heart at the possibility of him hurting your friend, and you eye Lucius’ pistol intensely, pleading that it will stay pointed up at the ceiling. When it doesn’t, you gasp, but find it hard to do more than watch as Lucius points toward Two.

“W-who are you?” Two stammers out his question, but you find it an odd transition. Something about the way he tries to force it out seems ingenuine.

Lucius observes your friend’s horrified face for a moment before finally committing to a cold smile like usual.

“I’m a man with a gun, aren’t I? You must have heard of me. Someone here likes to be chatty about things she shouldn’t.”

You shift your eyes away quickly when Lucius’ move to look at you.

But his glance is only momentary, as Lucius steps forward from Charlie’s body and instead toward Two. You cower as Two does. You want to do something. You want to grab Lucius or try to shield Two, but either option would only lead to worse outcomes. You feel powerless.

“Do tell me if we know each other,” Lucius laughs in such a jovial way that sends shivers down your spine. “I can’t for the life of me quite recall. My memory isn’t always so good, you know.”

“I-I don’t know you!” Two pleads, bringing his arm up to pointlessly shield himself, as if it could stop a bullet. “I swear! I-”

Another shot rings out, and Two flinches and cups his ears in agony at the close sound, as do you. Your eyes squeeze shut at the harsh noise, and at the frightening possibility of seeing Two get hurt. The feeling is so intense that you can’t help but drop down to your knees and hunch over in a gasping panic.

You fear the worst initially, until you open your eyes and see that Lucius has decided to shoot just off to the side of Two’s head, missing him purposefully.

“Lucius please!” You cry out, only barely grabbing the man’s attention. “Please stop!”

Your ears are left ringing again, but you continue to keep your focus even so. Lucius turns his head slightly to watch you cowering, his smile spreading as he sees you so afraid of him.

“Boy, get on the floor. Arms behind your back.” He wastes no time with orders, turning his eyes away from you after the brief glance.

“W-what?” Two heaves his chest as he tries to keep himself calm by breathing. He keeps flashing looks between Charlie, Lucius, and the barrel of Lucius’ gun, until finally, he lands on you.

You grimace seeing his horrified face, but can do nothing for him.

“Just do what he says,” you urge him. “Please.”

When Two just keeps staring at you with his frightened expression, Lucius fires another warning round to the side, leaving Two to again flinch and cover his ears. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, but does try to comply.

“O-okay!” He exclaims in a panic, slowly shifting his weight on his knees and lowering his body to the floor. He lays on his stomach, and puts his hands behind his back as demanded. Only when he’s in position does Lucius finally move his other hand to his pocket. From it, he extracts a syringe.

He holsters his weapon so confidently, knowing you’re too pathetic to attempt reaching for his gun again anyway, though you’re certain he isn’t lowering his guard nearly as much as he’s pretending to.

You don’t take that bait. You just kneel there, hands now clutching at your gown’s hem while watching Two be subdued.

You hear Lucius give Two the usual spiel—telling him not to move, telling him not to say a word. All it does is remind you of when Jay died. Only now…

Your eyes shift slowly to the bloody body by the door Lucius emerged from. Charlie’s face is still out of view, but you’re not so sure you want to see it anyway if he was pounding desperately on the door after being shot. You aren’t sure if he was trying to get out, or trying to warn you. But whatever his intention, he failed.

Your hands keep shaking, and you continue to feel nauseous watching someone with whom you had such a connection die. He wasn’t anyone you ever saw before, but someone who you and the others cherished nonetheless.

And now he’s just gone.

You knew this was always a possibility. Since Lucius told you about the workers, since you read about Six’s worry over a potential replacement of their chef, since you watched a girl get shot in the head, you knew…

Life is fleeting for these people. Even moreso than for you.

And you knew something was wrong. You just chose to ignore it until you couldn’t anymore. A while ago, Charlie had started to slip up. You think back to all the instances of oddities in your food, in the flavor, in the quality. He wasn’t even acting right. Things felt so off, and you knew what that meant.

But what could you have done? What the hell could you have even tried to do?

Lucius’ shifting back up and standing on his feet after having bent down to administer the anesthetic is what shakes you from your trance. Your head turns immediately back to face him, and you await his next action. What more can you do?

Two's head is turned your way on the floor, and he just watches you with pleading, horrified eyes. Perhaps he’s seeking you for comfort in his fear, but you can’t give him any. All you do is shake your head and try to mouth an apology to him, but this does little for him. Your only hope is that when the drug takes hold, he won’t have to be afraid anymore.

And, more than anything, you’re relieved to know Lucius didn’t kill him. You don’t know if that means Two is salvageable or not, but you don’t want to think about that right now. You don’t want to think that he might be in danger because he chose to engage with Lucius at all.

Though, now he knows who the man is. Now someone else knows. By the way Two looks at you, you’re sure he’s put together everything you had to keep secret. He knows now just who tormented you. Not just Lav has to understand. And not just you.

But whether or not that will change anything is up to nobody but The Overseer.

Lucius does not engage with you yet. He watches Two closely, waiting a few minutes until your friend finally starts to struggle keeping his eyes open. It’s not long before Two is completely gone. His hands slide off his back and onto the floor, and his body turns limp.

“I certainly hope he’s much more tight-lipped than you are,” Lucius comments as he carelessly discards the syringe on the floor, knowing the workers will have to come in here to clean Charlie’s body anyway. He turns to you again, smiling. “Though, as taboo as it is, someone who fucks their own sibling is probably good at keeping a secret or two, no?”

“Why?” You don’t hesitate to drill him the moment Two is out of the equation, but force yourself to ignore his nasty remark. “Why did you do this?”

“You act as if your chef friend was immortal.” Lucius chuckles in amusement. “Denial is a bitter medicine, girl. You knew this was coming. I wasn’t expecting you to show up any more than you were expecting to witness it. We’d have alerted Yosuke not to bring you if there was more time. Things just didn’t work out that way. Did they?”

You fume, but keep your mouth shut tight. So tight that your lips remain pressed together, trembling.

Lucius scoffs. “Are you upset your chef died? Come, now, princess. This castle is full of servants. You can have another one tomorrow.”

He frowns then, seeing you continue to stew. “Now don’t pout at me. Whether or not you saw this happen, you’d have eventually found out he was killed and reacted the same way. It’s your own fault for getting attached to him in the first place. He is a faceless nothing, and you should never have treated him as more than that. You don’t give names to the animals you intend to slaughter for food, do you? Why name something you know is slated to die?.”

“He was still a person,” you tell him, but Lucius does not budge.

“Oh yes, I’m sure they all are until they come here,” he says rather casually. “The same goes for you. But lucky girl, you get to be separate from the rest. Until we deem you no longer of interest, you and your group get a few more privileges than your average disposable worker. But frankly, I don’t think you deserve them.”

You look away. “Why did you let us come here today if you were going to do this?”

“It was unintended,” is Lucius’ response. “Nothing seemed amiss, until he started exhibiting concerning behaviors that affected prisoners. Had we known sooner what was going on, we’d have left you in your rooms and replaced him, all in the shadows as usual.”

You keep your eyes to the white of the floor, never once attempting to look up at Charlie or Lucius. You don’t want to have to face either sight.

“You were trying to do damage control,” you guess. “And Mom didn’t shut the doors.”

“So you are capable of reaching educated conclusions,” Lucius jests at your expense. “Yes, Vanessa made the foolish decision to not lock you in when told. She’s been quite forgetful as of late, or else she’s done it on purpose, little stirrer of chaos. Her love of any kind of attention is bothersome. Either way, I’m sure the boss will have something to say about it.”

“He’ll hurt her.”

“He is quite good with his hands,” Lucius remarks, cheeky. “Surely, you’ve noticed. But it’s up to him what he does, if anything.”

When you don’t say anything more, Lucius looks you over, then laughs privately.

“You’re still trying to make sense of an inevitable death, aren’t you?”

You shake your head slowly, baffled. “I didn’t know it would happen so suddenly.”

“You’ve seen quite a bit of death already, girl. You know how things work here. Sudden losses are no strange thing. Although, I’m quite shocked you aren’t broken like you usually are after you watch what I do. No sniveling mess from our dear, miserable princess? Perhaps you didn’t care about the man nearly as much as you thought. You cried for strangers, after all.”

This strikes you. Are you not reacting correctly? You were frightened, you were shaky.

No, Lucius is just putting things in your head. You care about Charlie. You’re just trying to process all of this. It’s too much to take in right now, and you don’t know how to respond. You may not have known a lot about the man, nor seen his face, but he was important to you. He was one of you.

Lucius gives off a coy smile, watching you attempt to figure this out. He knows what he’s doing. You hate that he knows.

Nonetheless, he continues, leaving those words behind as if they weren’t anything at all.

“Were he any other worker, maybe we’d have gotten a bit more use out of him. But because of his purpose, we had to be more rigid. What he made today got people sick, and we were not made aware of it quickly enough. We can’t have that happening to those we still need to observe unless we permit it to happen on our own terms. He was in no condition to be serviceable anymore.”

“He talked to me,” you try to fight this reasoning. “He was just talking to me the other day.”

“You don’t quite get it?” Lucius raises a brow. “Like you, some of them are desperate to live, even though their only role is subservience. Strange, that. While they still have some shred of consciousness left, they might try to hide their miserable state. Pretend they’re functional.

Your eyes widen. “He…”

“Was fighting for his life, yes,” Lucius finishes your statement when you struggle to. “When I arrived, he was in a terrible condition. Worse than he let on to you. He just couldn’t hide it from us anymore. Perhaps the last dose I gave him really did him in. Oh well.”

Lucius then steps away from Two and toward you, hand reaching into his pocket.

“Not to worry, princess. If you want to suffer, I certainly won’t stop you. You can make friends with his replacement instead, and then live the horror of losing them too. Though, I don’t imagine you’d find it so easy to accept them when they won’t fill in the shoes you gave ‘Charlie’ quite the same way. Be a dear and show me just how selfish you can be.”

He stops by your knees, but you keep looking down and don’t once lift your head. Only when you hear the cafeteria doors open behind you is your attention roused, but you wait for much heavier footsteps to pass you to bother looking over.

At first, you fear that it might be Milos with how heavy the steps are, until you see thick black boots in the corner of your eye, passing through to reach the unconscious Two.

Your second, frightened guess is thankfully disproven when white follows the black, and a worker fully emerges. You watch with worry as he plucks your friend’s body off the ground and hauls it over his shoulder. With how frail Two is compared to some of the other boys, he handles like nothing.

“What are you going to do?” You question Lucius, though your demand sounds more like a hushed whisper with how terrified you are. You want to ask specifically what he intends to do with Two, but fear that drawing attention to the fact that you’re scared for him might invite Lucius to hurt him just to watch you suffer. It’s clear by your reaction that you care, certainly, but you won’t risk making it worse.

“The others will be taken to their rooms and never be the wiser to any of this, beyond being a bit confused,” Lucius answers plainly. You can see his other hand moving as if to gesture to the worker, who in turn walks off, hauling Two away. “We’ve only to inform your doctors about what occurred. You and that boy ought to keep this between yourselves. I was never here. You understand, yes? Of course you do.”

“But the others will eventually figure it out somehow.” As you say this, you wonder whether there have been times before that they’ve knocked the group out for whatever reason. You certainly don’t remember anything. Others with more experience here might have more insight, but asking around wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Whether they find out they don’t have the same old friend isn’t my problem,” says Lucius, pulling out another syringe. “If their hearts suffer, so be it. We only want their heads. Don’t go riling those up about things that don’t matter. You’re already pushing it, uttering long-gone names aloud and being so frivolous with your words about me to the others.”

“You act as if you don’t enjoy making an entrance,” you mutter. The former mention of names makes you realize The Overseer was indeed cross with you for having said Dahlia’s aloud, but you don’t pry about it. Certainly not right now. You can only assume he expected you’d fuck up somehow, or that he was gracious enough not to do more than examine you in cautious response, as you anticipated he might.

Lucius gives a subtle laugh, amused by your statement. “Well, I certainly do. But I’m sure even you can gather that there are reasons I shouldn’t. My intervention here was just happenstance.”

You finally look up just a little bit, only seeing the needle in Lucius’ hand, and the blood spattered on his shirt and sleeves. A part of you wants to look back at Charlie, but you stop yourself before your eyes can instinctively wander that way. The grim sight is not one you need to see again.

You don’t know how any of this happened. It all came so suddenly. Days and days went by with you still reeling over what Yosuke did, with you trying to handle Twelve’s presence. Now this?

Charlie didn’t need to suffer this way. If he hadn’t fought back, maybe his death would have been quick. And if you hadn’t come here, maybe you’d never have had to face the reality of his loss so forwardly.

Every death you have to witness leaves holes in your heart. Even ones you only hear about hurt you.

You’re sick of it.

“Get up.” Lucius’ voice makes you wince, but you do as told. You stand there, hopeless, and feeling no inclination to fight back, You give up and let the gunman turn your head by your chin, and administer the drug. When your head is turned, it’s towards Charlie’s body, on purpose, so you’re forced to see him again. Your hands bunch up a chunk of the fabric of your gown as they close tightly around it. You can’t stand to see the body, but you can’t look away.

You feel woozy rather quickly, but don’t immediately fall into a slumber like Two had. Your own resilience aside, you realize he managed to avoid completely shutting down and was able to walk out of the gym before he took in much more of the airborne drug. And you assume the cafeteria had remained unaffected if you and he both were fine in it, and if Lucius isn’t masking up here. You and Two were both tired, just not gone yet. But this extra dose, even if minor, only expedited things. And if you’re being affected by both forms of the drug, it’s no wonder the dose you’re getting now is small.

For once, you don’t fear being put out. You fear staying awake. You want to be back in the garden. Only time will tell whether it will be with Dahlia, or with Yosuke.

Once Lucius has given you the anesthetic and has tossed the next empty syringe away, he cares little what your next course of action is, so long as you don’t try leaving the room. When you grow dizzy, you sit on the closest table bench and hunch over, head hanging, arms wrapped around yourself.

“Lucius,” you call tiredly to him. There’s something you have to ask now that you won’t have the chance to again. Gale had been of no help to you on the topic, but maybe Lucius will humor you out of amusement. Next to The Overseer, he’s the only one who can give the final decision on whether or not to speak up about it.

“Why were you there when Twelve threatened me?”

The man simply smiles to himself, huffing out a bit of laughter. You catch his hands reaching to his belt to unhook his mask. Given that the other room doors were opened, even if just for a little, you figure he wants to be cautious about leakage once exiting the room.

“Is that what you’re thinking about now? How your simple mind runs,” he criticizes you.

“I just want to know. Was I more important? Or was he? Why not kill him?”

“Would the little princess like me to?” Lucius questions with a raise of his brow. He cups the face of the mask in his palm, but does not move to put it on just yet. “He is quite a lot of trouble.”

“You still need him,” you guess.

“Don’t kid yourself. It was mere precaution,” Lucius says simply. “It’d be a shame to immediately throw away someone who’s so new. And whose stubbornness is so curious. Must you know everything? Regardless, he got what he deserved without either of us having to lift a finger. Yosuke was relentless, I hear. I’m not very impressed, but it is a nice change of pace for your humdrum doctor.”

He acts as if you didn’t see other injuries on Twelve that weren’t just from Yosuke. Lilah aside, you know your doctor wasn’t the only person responsible for punishing Twelve, but you aren’t sure it was any of the spearheads of this operation. Nonetheless, your face scrunches up at the reminder, but you try not to let Lucius’ words get to you.

“You also need me,” you continue to insist. “Because he still wants my head. You both kept telling me I didn’t matter, kept beating it into me, abusing me. For what? Now you won’t throw me away. Forgive me if I’m a little confused.”

Lucius is unmoved. He stands before you, free hand reaching down to pull your head up by the hair. He watches your tired eyes, but gives no expression.

“I have known that man for much of my life,” he says lowly, ignoring your pained breaths and winces. He doesn’t seem to care about keeping this fact a real secret anymore, even in front of his boss who might be watching.

Lucius’ black eyes fall upon you with no remorse. No smile forms on his lips again. He remains callous. “I have been through countless hardships alongside him, watched him become who he is now. And one thing I know about him is that there are few things and people in this life that he cares about anymore, and you certainly aren’t one of them. So don’t go growing an ego just because he let you live. You are not a survivor. You are a statistic. He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t even want you.”

Lucius drops your head and shoves it away rudely. You huff out a disgruntled breath, but don’t move otherwise. You’re too tired to even try anything anyway.

The grim gunman takes note of the cafeteria doors opening again, and without looking, he snaps at whoever’s entered, gesturing then to you.

He watches as gloved hands start to clutch roughly at your head and arm from behind. The cold rubbery sensation on your body evokes a light gasp from your lips, but you can’t fight the workers right now even if you wanted.

Lucius does not smile, even as he watches you lose your battle to stay awake. He simply has the worker keep you propped up enough for him to squat down by your knees, so that his face is slightly more level with yours. He does no more than continue to observe you as you struggle to keep awake while plagued by a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

To your dismay, his free hand reaches up to your cheek, and he slides his knuckles along it in a feigned sweet gesture as he watches you fall.

“Rest assured, princess,” he lulls coldly. “The day he calls for your head, I will bring it to him on a silver platter.”

Chapter 91: Scars

Eating the next morning is difficult.

The night before, you remember Lucius escorting you to your room personally since Yosuke was elsewhere. Calling him back right then would have just meant you’d both have had to wait for him, and Lucius was hardly patient given what needed to be done after the fact.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but do remember laying frozen in bed until a wave of exhaustion washed over you like a blanket. It’s not certain just when the anesthetic took hold, but you wish you had more, because staring at the tray full of food in your lap now is bringing out a slew of horrible feelings.

The food doesn’t look foreign to you. There is no major change in consistency or smell. Whoever prepared it did so according to instruction, or perhaps through their own skill. But you just can’t bring yourself to touch it at first.

However, the more you smell it, the more your stomach growls in want of the stuff. It dawns on you that you haven’t eaten in a day or so. Yesterday’s events prevented that. And you can’t help but wonder if Two is sitting in his room just the same way, refusing to touch his food too.

That’s right…he had to see it all. You’re not alone in this madness. You and Cyrus both have had to deal with it. Two was not someone you expected to have to face death so directly, but you’re almost glad someone else has that in common with you now. Is that selfish?

At least he isn’t alone either. You were there, and you can help him through it.

You notice that Yosuke is standing by your bedside, watching you closely but saying nothing. He eyes the fork in your hand, expecting you to act. But you just sit there, trying to hide the fact that your hand is involuntarily shaking.

You’re so hungry, but you don’t want to eat. And it’s not until Yosuke goads you into it that you try.

“Shall I feed you myself?”

You stay quiet but shake your head and try to pick up some bits of food. Another delicate egg dish, looks like. It’s plated nicely, egg folded carefully over a mix of vegetables and fine cheese. Like an omelette, almost. No matter how similar or good it is, though, accepting it Is a dreary task.

Eventually, the fork does reach your lips, and you manage to get a taste of the new chef’s cooking. It’s not like you expected it to be bad, but you didn’t expect it to taste so similar to Charlie’s. And though you had reservations about eating, in your hunger, the flavor against your tongue triggers an almost automatic, ravenous response. You feel tears slowly building in your eyes that never fall, but at the same time, you begin to eat quickly.

You’re so hungry. Is it wrong to do this after what happened? Would Charlie be upset?

Yosuke just watches you cram forkful after forkful into your mouth, though at some point his hand rests on your shoulder as you eat. Once the dish has been consumed, you’re still left hollow. Your fork drops back onto the plate, and you stare at the thing while feeling immense guilt, as if what you did was unforgivable.

You don’t look up at your doctor, nor acknowledge him.

“I didn’t know it was going to happen,” Yosuke assures you. “But it does happen.”

“Why?” It’s a pointless question, but it slips out anyway.

“You know why.”

Your arms wrap around yourself again, and your head hangs a bit as you stare emptily at the plate.

“Lucius said I didn’t cry for him like I should have. Even now, I’m not, even though I want to.”

“We all react differently.”

“I’ve seen so much death already,” you retort quickly. “Am I getting used to it? I’m not breaking down. I’m carrying on as if it were just another day, just while being shaken up. I shouldn’t have eaten. A-am I a bad person?”

“Slow down,” Yosuke warns. “You have had a lot of excitement as of late. You’re still you, Ten. This is just another way you’re responding to a difficult situation. You don’t just lose your humanity watching people die. It may not quite hit the same each time, is all. One can easily be overcome with grief over repeated sights of horror, so much so that they fail to function. You don’t seem to be in that boat entirely. You could be gradually finding it easier to carry on while still bearing burdens in your mind. That’s why so many people here are able to look misery in the face and pass it by like you would a stranger on the street.”

“Three isn’t that way. She lets it hurt her. She’s one of the only people here who is consistently miserable and shows it to everyone,” you remark in worry. Yosuke’s hand moves up to your head instead of your shoulder, and he begins to stroke it gently.

“Others in your group are the same, and others are not. As I said, we react differently. Do you want to be consistently miserable, dear?”

“No.”

“But it isn’t as simple as moving on?”

“No.”

“And what do you do in the face of misery?” Yosuke questions. You don’t care to see his face right now, and keep your eyes focused on the plate.

“I cry,” you say. “I usually just cry. Or else I just…stop.”

“Stop?”

“I go limp. Numb. I can’t stop thinking about what upsets me for a long time,” you explain. “But all I feel is empty right now. The man Lucius killed wasn’t someone I knew personally, yet who I cared for the way I do everyone else in my group.”

“You formed a strong bond with the man behind the counter.” Gale’s voice suddenly shakes your thoughts. You’d forgotten that they arrived. The plate in your lap, the tray, and the fork were all taken away a while ago. When you look down, only the fabric of your comforter remains, spread out over your legs.

Right, Yosuke had said Gale might come by after you had your talk with him. And now you’re sitting here relaying everything to yet another person. Splaying out your woes to people who can’t help you.

“Y-yeah.”

“You didn’t see him get shot?”

“No.” You continue to stare blankly at the comforter. It’s all bunched up, peaks and valleys and wrinkles forming everywhere as it sinks down and climbs up along your limbs.

“Do you think perhaps that’s influenced your reaction?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you answer honestly. “So, am I not as invested?”

Gale smiles to themself. “No, Ten. I think you’re plenty invested. But it’s not up to me to tell you how to feel. Your doctor mentioned we all react differently to this kind of thing, and that’s true. So is his mention that we react differently each time we see it.”

Finally, you look at Gale, if just off to the side without turning your head.

“Have you seen it?”

Gale scribbles something on their clipboard, lips still subtly pulled back in a private smile.

“Many times,” they answer openly. “Do you think I was always this calm? Even I had my moments of panic the first times I had to face the reality of this place.”

“So…”

“I bore witness only after I came here,” Gale answers your question before you can even really ask it. “I lived comfortably away from the mortuary before my arrival. But when you work closely with men who can kill without a second thought, you tend to see quite a lot of death. It presses on you after a while. Unfortunately, there’s little time to waste on the emotional. You have to find a way to stifle it, or move on.”

“And how did you?”

“I kept myself busy,” is Gale’s simple answer. “But obviously you don’t always have that option, and you are left alone with difficult thoughts regularly. So, in your case, how do you manage? How did you distract yourself back then?”

“I kept thinking of them,” you say, almost as if guessing it despite having been the one to live through it. “I meditated and…well…”

You’re embarrassed to say it outright.

“And will that help you now?”

“It might, but not quite the same,” you figure, shifting your gaze back to the bed. “It helped me then because it kept me connected to the people I love. But what I lack now is a connection I can’t make. Or maybe it’s a connection I need to break off a piece of, so I don’t have hang-ups and constant reminders. Because I will. What do I do, then?”

Gale stops writing. “Do you feel better when you exercise? Or when you do any other activity?”

“For that moment.”

“Then in that moment, you have power over your own misery. Distractions are nice, but temporary. You know how you feel when you feel good. Don’t indulge in your one satisfaction just to get by. Find a way to extend the good to other things. Some people may simply convince themselves they’re okay. Some may require constant mental stimulation, or perhaps a presence, like a person or an object.”

“A brother? Or a violin?” You suppose with a disgruntled huff. Gale nods.

“To help them along, of course. But overreliance is a bitter poison. One thing is not enough. You need variety. The mind loves patterns, but bores of certain kinds of repetition. We all end up wanting change one way or another.”

“Will Two become like his sister?” You change focus now that the subject has been brought up. “Is he that kind of person?”

“He needs stimulation,” Gale answers calmly. “He isn’t as bad as his sister, I find. He’s certainly not the most mature, though he isn’t clingy. But boys like him tend to assume they have to brave certain things alone because they’re trained to think so. Men are expected to be the leaders. The alphas. I can’t quite reason with it even having looked at those kinds of social patterns.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I have,” Gale nods again. “Shall I break confidentiality?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” you mutter. “Do traditional rules apply in a place like this?”

Gale taps at their nose with their pen, and you sigh. “Is he at least doing okay?”

“Understandably, he’s upset,” Gale relays as they again pick up their writing. “Shaken, like you. It’s one of his first experiences with a direct death.”

One of?

“Talk with him. He may appreciate the company of a more familiar and friendly face than that of a doctor,” Gale finishes off their thought. “But right now, I am focused on you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Sad?”

“Tired,” you assert. “I’m tired of this. Charlie was our friend. I don’t want to lose more friends.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you,” Gale says with a slight frown. “I can promise, however, that most of your friends are currently in good standing. I know that much. So long as nothing changes, you’re all safe.”

“What do you mean ‘most of’?” You press.

“Twelve is a burden. Of course, you knew that.”

“I wish he wasn’t.”

Silence comes between you for a while after this, as you start to think and think about yesterday’s events. Gale does not rush you, and quietly awaits your response. Eventually, you speak.

“Would it have been better if I didn’t know about his death right away?”

“You would be hurt either way,” Gale points out. “The question is surprisingly less about time and more about intensity. Seeing him die is more personal. Hearing about his passing, or eventually finding out about it may have lent itself to a less intense immediate reaction. Not to say you wouldn’t care, but you’d potentially have ‘less investment’ because of a lack of presence. You don’t mourn the deaths of other prisoners so intensely if you’ve never met them, do you?”

“What an awful way to put it,” you scoff. Gale shakes their head.

“It’s a harsh truth. The saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ comes into play to some degree here. Besides, not feeling bad immediately doesn’t make you an asshole, you know. Sometimes you just don’t know how to react. Or, in your case, you’ve seen the same shocking sight more than once, and you just don’t respond quite the same way you did when it was so new to you. How did you respond to the first girl?”

“I was afraid, and then sad,” you suppose, attempting to recall your brief brush with Jay. “I didn’t know her. But I spoke with her, and she gave me a small ounce of hope toward leaving this place. I guess it was stupid to be hopeful back then, but when you see someone like you on the other side of that gate, you can’t help the excitement.”

“Yes,” Gale agrees. “Though desired, practical thoughts aren’t realistic where emotions are involved.”

You’d laugh about Gale expressing a similar thought to your own yesterday, if you weren’t so down.

“When C1 died, I was already stressed out because of the torture I was facing in The Overseer’s room,” you go on. “Lucius tormented me so much there, and then I had to watch him kill a man like it was nothing. It was the first time I had context to his cruelty. When he killed Jay, I didn’t know him, or anything about who he really was.”

“And now?”

“I know everything. He’s evil, and he delights in being that way. He’s sick in the head, and so he doesn’t care who he hurts. But I didn’t have to watch him murder someone this time. I just knew in my head how it went because I know how he kills. You don’t just forget something like that. All the banging against the door that Charlie did, all the gunshots, all of it made it clear. I didn’t need more context. My head filled in the gaps. It hurt just as much as it did the first few times.”

“Perceptive,” Gale compliments as they write more notes. “You understand how you feel and why. So your issue is that you feel as if your response isn’t enough?”

“My issue is that I had to witness another death, and it’s pressing on me,” you express firmly, annoyed. “I never wanted to be like Cyrus. And now Lucius is getting off on making me miserable because he hates me. He only smiles when I give him the fearful response he wants, but I can’t stop myself from that just to spite him. I care too much about people to just move on like it’s nothing!”

You bring your hands up to your face, and though you expect to sob, you don’t. You just breathe heavily through your mouth, anguished.

“You aren’t a bad person, Ten,” Gale assures you. “Feelings are complex. You loved that man, yes? That’s plenty. Just because you aren’t completely broken like before doesn’t mean you don’t care, nor does it serve as an injustice against him. Keep him in your memory. It’s the best option you have, and one he’d likely be happy about.”

“I’m not data,” you bite back. “Don’t talk to or about us like we’re statistics!”

“I understand the frustration, but you’re making assumptions and attributions that aren’t correct. I’m not trying to say that whatsoever,” Gale calmly answers. “You are a person, but I do have to be careful how I handle you. That’s all it is. I am sorry that you had to suffer again.”

“Was it orchestrated?” You drop your hands and look at Gale, desperate for an answer. “Did you do this?”

“Ten,” Gale warns. “I’m not a mastermind, I’ve told you before. I had no hand in this. He was slated to die. All workers die. When you become one-”

“When?”

Gale holds their tongue and corrects their words. “If you become one…you will too.”

There is no comfort in their words, only a bitter truth. But sugarcoating it wouldn’t make you any less frightened by the fact.

“Then why did Six not come yesterday?” You continue to drill in your frustration. “Did you hold her back so she wouldn’t have to suffer? Because you didn’t want to risk her being the one to see this in case Mom slipped up?”

Gale frowns. “You’re making assumptions again, Ten. My Number is dear to me, but as are many of you. I only held Six back because she was having troubles with her headaches again. So rather than put her out there, I kept her in her room, and watched over her. I didn’t even really know Five was sick until later, although it was too late for me to go see her. Thankfully, I hear she’s made a recovery from yesterday. That’s good.”

You’re not sure they’re being honest, but just let yourself believe that they are just so you can calm down. If they are telling the truth, however, that means The Overseer had been watching all of what transpired. Closely.

You’re not sure how that makes you feel. But you didn’t do anything wrong yesterday. You were just a bystander. Two on the other hand…

No, why do you have reason to believe he’d be in trouble for this? He didn’t do anything, and he certainly won’t say anything. So why do you feel strange about it?

“Ten?”

You look over at Gale and frown. “You understand that I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yes, but I want to make sure you don’t go comatose in your own thoughts,” Gale gives a polite laugh. “We certainly wouldn’t want to lose you there.”

“Because he can’t follow me there,” you suppose. “Is that my only weapon against him? Secrecy? Is that even what I have when you’re watching us so closely?”

“We do give you some privacy, you know,” Gale says confidently. “He certainly doesn’t like to watch your visits. In any case, no need to be so suspicious, Ten. I only came to make sure you were okay. And it seems other than being shaken up, you’re not terrible, which is good. Though, your attitude toward everything else lately has been a bit concerning.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to tell me that?”

“Well, you did question the level of formality in a place like this. But yes, realistically, I might not express my deeper concerns with a patient if I legally had to sidestep them and recommend a heavier treatment than just prescribed medicine and scheduled talks. But I never liked that practice. It tends to cause unnecessary stress and make problems worse.”

“But you are willing to sidestep us in other ways,” you point out crudely. “I can’t fully trust you because of it. I know you try to help where you can, but your loyalties aren’t to me.”

“And if they were?”

“Maybe I still wouldn’t trust you. I’m thankful for all your kindness, but you have power that others don’t, and you are in a position other aren’t.”

“I assume you think Monica is more trustworthy because she is closer to you in rank than I,” Gale presses. “He’s noticed you’ve gotten along with her.”

Your attention is taken, if perhaps a bit too much. “Is he worried?”

“’Worried’ is not a word I recognize as part of that man’s vocabulary.” Strangely, Gale chuckles this out as if amused by the thought. They, however, don’t try to treat it as a joke. “He’s eyeing things. Do watch yourself, Ten. When I say I’m concerned, I am also concerned about your sudden rise in the topic of escape.”

“I’m not trying to,” you try to plead your innocence. “I can’t even if I wanted to.”

“But you do want to,” Gale notes without hesitation. “Would you ever try?”

That must be a trick question. One that could severely incriminate you. “Even if I were going to try, why would I share that with you?”

Gale smiles. “Because my loyalties aren’t to anyone. I cooperate with my ‘captor’, as you may consider him. But know that I also keep a lot from him too, as do many of us.”

You give Gale a long, quiet stare while trying to assess what their end goal is here, or if there even is one. But no matter how you want to bite back about the issue, you refuse to tell Gale anything incriminating.

“We haven’t done anything,” you affirm. “We just talk. It makes us feel better about being here.”

“He doesn’t like changes in his structure,” Gale points out. “Which is why I’m telling you to watch yourself. If things change too much because of your discussions, he will act. His adverse responses to ripples in his plans tends to be why he gets so frustrated with Momma, but his need of her is why she gets to stay.”

Your lips part, but you find the words stuck in your throat. What is there to really ask about their relationship, anyway? Gale certainly wouldn’t know.

No, instead, you wind up asking,

“Why did she leave the doors open?”

“She either forgot, or she was playing one of her little games,” is Gale’s answer. “I certainly don’t think it was to usher you toward the cafeteria. She isn’t much for plans like that. I just think she wanted to be defiant in such a minor way. Only, that turned out to have major consequences that involved people who didn’t need to be.”

You close your eyes. “And you had nothing to do with any of that?”

“Gale?” Yosuke questions, as if surprised by the inquiry. Your eyes open again, and you find yourself suddenly laying in your bed, shifted on your side and staring blankly toward the back of your desk chair as Yosuke sits in it. He’s faced away while observing Gale’s notes. You notice they left a page with Yosuke, but took the bulk of everything else with them when they finally left the room.

You feel nothing but weary after the assessment.

“Certainly, Gale can be tricky, but their involvement is usually neutral,” Yosuke goes on. “They only carefully arrange pieces and observe. I can guarantee this was all your mother’s doing.”

“Because you know her so well,” you mutter bitterly.

“Hush,” Yosuke bids you firmly, turning his head just a moment so that you hear him clearer. He begins to write something down, though you’ve no clue what. “Yes, I am one of the few here who does. But I wager my superior and Milos know more of her than I ever did.”

“She has history with a lot of people,” you comment unhappily. “Aren’t you upset knowing she fooled around before you two met? Don’t men like you have a thing against ‘tainted’ women?”

Yosuke finds amusement in your question, and begins to huff out a brief laugh. “I was only fooling around myself, dear. I don’t quite care. The only one who does is her, though it’s beyond me just why she settled on me.”

“Are you the only one she did?”

“Oh?” This seems to pique the man’s curiosity. “I certainly don’t know.”

“She’s needy,” you relay the obvious. “You saw how hurt she was with Milos the other day. Maybe…”

“I can hardly picture her cozying up to him,” Yosuke scoffs. “What an odd pairing. But who knows? Many things have led to her obsessive tendencies and needy behaviors worsening. I can’t bother keeping track of what.”

“She isn’t the only one with those behaviors. You fawn over me as if I’m going to crack one day. And you secretly hope I will so that you can take me for all I’ve got.”

“Is that how you see me?” Yosuke’s voice rises almost playfully in tone, as if he finds it amusing. “Naïve girl.”

“I’m not wrong,” you remain convinced. “Like the others, you’re an ignoble man.”

“A man who owns you, dear.”

“Your boss and his lackey have more ownership over me than you do. It’s why Lucius insists on tormenting me so often. Because he can.”

“Am I to assume they’d put in the same effort in caring for you as I do?” Yosuke continues to deflect you. “Neither man loves you. Only I can provide you with what you need. They don’t claim you, nor want you.”

“You say it as if I need you,” you mutter. “But you’re the one who needs me.”

“Bold, my dear,” Yosuke chuckles. “I do adore you, of course. But you aren’t mine out of need. I chose you. And now I have no intention of simply letting you go. It’s why I’ve gone back to behaving as I should. And really, now. Are you willing to consider yourself his property after struggling to accept that you belong to me? You’re making a crass assumption, my pet.”

You scrunch up your brows. “I never said I liked the idea. But I am his subject first, and your little plaything second.”

“You are valuable to me for more than just sex, Ten.”

You grip firmly at the sheets. “That’s the worst lie yet.”

Finally, Yosuke stands up from his chair. The simple act leaves you alert, and you can’t help but sit up from the bed and tense up as Yosuke makes his way toward you. He stops right at your bedside, towering over you as you sit, fearfully wondering what he might do.

“Do you believe I’m a person?” You try to question him in an attempt to keep control of the conversation, yet struggle to look the man in his eyes. “Do you even care?”

“Why should I say yes when you have been so frustrating to deal with?” Yosuke turns the knife, though he doesn’t sound upset per se. Simply firm. “I want your obedience, but sometimes attempting to get you to listen to me is much more trouble than it’s worth. So why, oh why, would I even care to keep trying for you?”

“You can’t get anything out of me if I’m broken,” you suppose. Yosuke doesn’t find it amusing anymore, and frowns.

“Yes. I did see you as an object of pleasure before,” he admits. “I won’t deny that even now, I enjoy my playtime with you. However, it’s gone quite a lot further than that since everything began. I’ve come to treasure even the most stubborn parts of you, even when they upset me. The strength you find to pull through things is admirable, though you are severely misguided in many cases.

“You miss the mark many times, you make incorrect assumptions, and you take dangerous actions all because of your precious curiosity. Nonetheless, I find you fascinating. Logically, I should throw you away like nothing for being so difficult. But I find it hard to let you go even when you prove frustrating. You intrigue me, and you make me want to care for you.”

You jump slightly as his hand grazes the underside of your chin with such delicate brushes.

“Something about the way you don’t give up is lovely, Ten,” Yosuke tells you. “You are lovely.”

You look away. “If you really care, why aren’t you trying to help me through this? Why have you just kept ignoring me when I’m miserable? I don’t need your body for comfort. I need real comfort. And right now, I’m really stressed out after losing someone important to me.”

Yosuke drops his hand and looks at you in assessment. He says nothing at first, instead reaching down to peel away the comforter. Your heart quickens its pace as you fearfully assume he’s going to ignore your pleas and try forcing himself upon you again, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he shifts your body on the bed to make room for himself. Once seated upon it, he brings you up atop him. You’re sat on his lap, legs open and resting on either side of his hips. Yosuke sits leaning against the pillows and the head of the bed, but keeps you balanced atop him and leans you against his chest.

You feel horrible with your legs spread out and body pressed against your doctor like this, he makes no advances of any kind and only holds you against him, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other holding your head forward so that you’re leaned against his shoulder. Your lips are near his nape, and with all the warmth pressed against your body, your hands are gripping at Yosuke’s shirt tightly in response.

“Better?” He asks, voice resonating against your chest from his own. You’re left shaky, fearing he might take advantage of you at any moment, and don’t respond. You only lay limp against the comforting warmth. At least that, you can say, is wanted.

“I won’t try anything,” Yosuke chuckles as you deny him a response. “Don’t fret.”

“You realize why I might not believe you,” you remark as if in a whisper, and Yosuke simply pets your head.

“Yes, dear. But just try to relax.”

You remain skeptical the entire time he holds you, until the skepticism proves too straining. Eventually, you just give up and nestle against him. Cling to, even.

You suppose you’ll take it after what you had to deal with. You hoped the discussion after your assessment was distracting enough, but something like this isn’t a breeze to get over. It’s easier than it was before, but Lucius was wrong about your intentions. You still care, and it still hurts. You don’t know why you ever let his words get to you.

“Don’t you have things to do?” You question, voice low. In essence, you’re hoping the reminder will get Yosuke to leave you alone. But at the same time, you almost regret asking with this intention when the warmth of his body and the hum of his breaths are so comfortable.

“After I was informed about what happened, I knew you might need time afterwards to process it,” Yosuke answers calmly, hand still petting you all the while. “I asked Gale to see you for that reason. I didn’t want to be late getting to my own things, but evidently you need this.”

“I didn’t want it from you.” You try to keep the upper hand, but Yosuke dismisses this.

“I’m the only one here, aren’t I, my pet?” He chuckles softly. Greedy bastard. “Of course, I won’t leave you hanging just like that. Now hush. Just rest a little against me. And when you’re ready, I’ll take you back.”

Frustrated with the man as you may be, you don’t reject the offer.

---

When you’ve had enough of your doctor’s comfort, he takes you out as promised. While he allows you to walk this time, you are still bound to him nonetheless. He insists on guiding you by the hand, like a child.

“So you don’t get lost,” he lightly jokes. You figure he still wants to keep you comforted in some small way, but it’s not as if babying you like this doesn’t also scratch his unusual itches too.

Mom is gone from the office when you return to the gate, something that strikes you when it’s not her who sees you through. In her place is Monica, who greets Yosuke with an exaggerated chipperness. The kind that makes it clear that someone is just pretending.

Yosuke certainly doesn’t help.

“Seems she’s out,” he points out, almost as if relieved. “Unfortunate that she made another mistake.”

You suppose when either The Overseer or Lucius made the others aware of the situation, no details were spared this time. Is there a purpose to it? You want to assume it’s to lay Mom’s embarrassing mistakes out before the others, but it’s not as if she has ever expressed feeling shame for being how she is. Unless she masks it well enough that you think so.

“She’ll be back,” Monica says half-confidently, biting her lip after. “She tends to treat her punishments like no big deal anyway.”

You bank on this being the case, but still feel a tinge of sympathy for Mom, now knowing what you do.

It still sits strangely with you to feel sympathy for anyone here at all, frankly. But if Cyrus is capable of forgiving others, you can probably afford to say you’re sorry that someone had to suffer a certain way. Not so easily, of course. But with each bit of context you get to why anyone is the way they are, supposing there is a reason to begin with, sympathy becomes easier.

That’s for those doctors, though. When you look at someone like Sven or Jude or Milos, you feel nothing. It’s clear as day to you which doctors deserve no sympathy, and which ones do. Yosuke certainly doesn’t.

But even when you look up at him out of the corner of your eye, even considering he must have been bullied or suffered losses or gone through a very human experience, tragedies and all, you still don’t know just how to feel. You have a hatred for him, but can’t help feeling conflicted with every new thing he tells you about his life. Could he have turned out differently if those things hadn’t happened?

No. You won’t let yourself question it. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, even for as sincere as he seemed when he spoke to you about what he did. You won’t spare it.

When you’re left alone behind the gate and given the freedom to roam around, you wind up going to the usual place and finding several of the other Numbers already there. Normally you’d just take your place by whoever you care to, but the first thing your eyes gravitate toward upon entering the rec room is Two’s back, which is currently facing you. He’s hunched over a bit, leaning his elbows on each crossed leg as he sits on the floor by the couch nearest to the doors. You suppose he was trying to talk with the others gathered there. Mainly the other guys.

You can’t see his face, but your heart skips a beat when you see just the gingery color of his hair and the red of his shirt. Thoughts about how he’s holding himself up and what he might be thinking now after what he witnessed run wild in your head just from a glance of him, but you attempt not to make a scene and instead just step inside the room as opposed to remain dumbfounded in the doorway.

The girls are split, it seems. Some of them are crowded by the TV, but Violet, Three, and Lav appear to have gone elsewhere. Five and Six are leaning against one another on the TV couch and beside Blue, eyes tired but watching what’s on screen. You don’t have any reason to think they’re still feeling totally ill, but you can tell whatever they were going through yesterday has left them in a bad spot today. Still, more than anything, you’re just glad they’re safe. What involvement Gale had means nothing for now, so long as they are safe.

As for Twelve, he’s nowhere to be found. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Does he remember that he saw you? Will he come after you again if so? You’d hate to think he would…

You try to wave at the girls, but they’re all engrossed in some drama movie. Not in the mood for more drama yourself, even fictional, you shy away from that side of the room and join the guys. Pickle remains chipper by Two’s side and greets you happily, but Eight and Cyrus seem much more observant of your body language while they sit upon the couch. You sheepishly sit by Two’s left, but don’t at all look at him.

But you can feel his eyes on you.

You feel as though you’re following a script talking to the guys—saying how you feel, catching up with what’s gone on today that you missed. But it’s when they bring up yesterday that you become tense.

“It was weird, wasn’t it?” Pickle questions. “I don’t remember going back to my room at all.”

“Something might have been up,” Eight guesses, leaving you to grip at and pinch the skin on the back of your hand. The young man’s green eyes glance this action over, but he does not pry. “I don’t try to make sense of what they do to us half the time.”

“That’s a lie,” Cyrus takes issue with the statement. “You’re the most analytical guy I know.”

“Well, you know very few guys.”

Cyrus simply shrugs. “Look, I haven’t got a clue what to make of all this. I want to say it was just some mass checkup or something. But that might be a bit too positive.”

“I don’t recall this ever happening before,” Eight refuses the idea. “You never experienced a knockout on that scale?”

“Not that I can remember.” Cyrus strains his brows as he attempts to piece together some shred of memory that connects to this. He excludes any mention of what happened between you two the day Mom tried to pair you together, thankfully. “No. But it doesn’t feel weird. Maybe it did happen once, I just don’t remember. In all fairness, a lot of things happened in the past that we can’t really explain.”

“Like?” Pickle leans in. “You never said anything about that.”

“Well, people disappearing is one of those things.” Cyrus looks away. “But sometimes it’s stuff like lapses in memory. Like I said, sometimes it’s because people are being examined or something. There’s no way they don’t look us over when they’re messing around with our memories like this.”

While the boys have their back and forth, you catch Two again and notice he’s staying fairly silent. Pickle occasionally nudges him after a light joke to cut the tension in the conversation, attempting to rouse his attention, but Two only winds up blinking and being stirred from his thoughts with a “huh?” in response.

It’s not as if he’s the only one concerned by things, either. While the others seem to be carrying on like normal, you can tell the fact that they realize they might not have gone to their rooms on their own is starting to bug them. But you also know they’ve taken residency here long enough to conclude that it’s not something they can do anything about.

“It’s something I’d expect,” is all Cyrus says on the matter. “We just have to let them do whatever they intend to do. I don’t mean to sound dismissive of other issues, but thinking about what we can’t control is just going to be stressful on all of us. Our priority tends to be that everyone is safe and accounted for.”

“You encourage us not to think about things we can’t help when you yourself think about too much,” Eight makes the effort to point this out. “You can be a bit hypocritical, you know.”

“I can give advice I myself struggle to follow, it’s not a crime.”

Though Eight is mildly amused by Cyrus’ defense, you are left with your stomach churning again.

Nobody knows just what you saw, and you can’t just tell them. It’s going to be a struggle for the others to understand what happened over time, because you know for certain they will find out, one way or another. But whoever it is behind the counter now, they’re just going to have to indulge the other Numbers when they use your late friend’s name.

You hope the new person does try to play along. But unfortunately, you have no interest in seeing them right now to ensure that they do. It’d be rude to shut them out entirely out of hurt just because they are standing where someone important to you once stood. But at the same time, you don’t have to see them right away, do you?

It only makes you think back to when you were so afraid of dealing with Charlie to begin with, when you were new here. Only, now your hesitancy is for a different reason. This is frustrating.

After a while of back and forths, Two rises and mumbles something about going off on his own for a bit, but not really explaining just why. When Pickle asks to come with, Two denies him as casually as he can without rousing suspicion about his emotional state. You avoid looking his way as he passes you by, but wonder whether to follow all the while that you sit there listening to the boys chat.

You try to sit still, but become restless as you sit there. Your legs yearn to move, your hands shift about relentlessly. Eventually, it’s hard to tell yourself to stay put. Whether or not Two was inviting you to follow is unclear, but you’d rather he not isolate himself either.

You excuse yourself too, making up something about wanting time to read by yourself. You suppose Eight is able to see past your excuse with how calmly he responds,

“Try one of the books on the back shelves. A lot of them are about things you might be interested in.”

Something about the way he says it and looks at you…he knows why you’re running off, if vaguely. The back shelves are quite isolated from the ones up front, after all. If one wants to have a discussion far from the doors and the eyes of any entrants, it’s a good place to start.

You only thank him for the advice before leaving.

Searching for Two isn’t hard, you find. The moment you’re in the hall, he emerges from the still-empty crafts room, having been peeking out of it in wait of you. It’s almost childish, the way he looks peeping out that way. But you don’t really say much about it beyond,

“Were you waiting for me?”

Two says nothing and waves you in his direction, urging you to follow. Without really having to suggest the library yourself, he leads you both there. Perhaps he had the same idea.

He does not say a word until you are both toward the back of the room, at which point he proceeds to bring his hands up to each side of his head to ruffle anxiously at his hair while exhaling a deep breath.

“What the actual fuck was that?!” He demands, no longer able to keep his cool. “Who was that?!”

You bite your lip and look away. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say.”

“Well, are we allowed to talk about it?!” Two continues drilling you with questions, voice shaking. “Are we like, on trial here? I don’t know what the hell to think! Is Charlie…”

“He’s dead,” you remind him in an attempt to ground your friend. It pleases you little to have to say it, but you do. In fact, the words feel poisonous on your own tongue. Wrong. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you mixed in with all this. Nobody should have to have been.”

“I just don’t know what the hell to think,” is Two’s response. He lets himself slowly kneel down and sit on his folded legs, hands dropping to each knee. Not wanting to stay standing above him, you sit by his side. “I don’t feel like what I saw was real.”

“You don’t want it to be,” you guess. “I don’t either.”

Two shuts his eyes, brows crinkling together as he grows tense. “I couldn’t eat this morning. I couldn’t really think straight about anything. I kept trying to run what happened in my head to try making sense of it and I just couldn’t.”

You look him over, not sure what to say. How can you be supportive when you are struggling with it too? This is probably one of the first times you’ve ever had someone be in the same boat as you with a tragedy like this.

“I…um…” you hesitate. “Did Gale see you too?”

“They did.” Two finally opens his eyes, though the grip he has on his knees doesn’t let up. “It felt like they were studying me. Writing down everything I said. I didn’t know what the hell they wanted. I was nervous the entire time. I kept thinking they were gonna suddenly turn a gun on me too like that guy did even if all they had was a pen.”

“They’re not malicious,” you try to be assuring. “They like to study us.”

“How do you know?”

You sigh. “Because I do. They did the same with Cyrus. Just trust me, okay? I can’t say a whole lot. As for that guy you saw? He’s responsible for a lot.”

Two looks your way, mouth agape. “Is he…like…the boss?”

“No.” You say this so bitterly that Two is taken aback. “His gunman. That’s what awaits us if we try to run or do anything really bad.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said so, but it’s not like you explicitly made anything clear about either The Overseer or Lucius. All this does is tell Two you have indeed met both men.

Though, this response of yours presents another existential nightmare for your companion. His eyes widen.

“Did he kill people I knew?”

It hurts you to hear this question. Two could have asked literally anything, but it’s this he chose to dwell on. The fact that a man like Lucius could be responsible for the deaths of loved ones. The fact that the past is riddled with dark realities that, for the longest time, were passing ideas that were easy to ignore the truth of. You never wanted anyone to have to think about it.

“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible.” You hate being so pessimistic, but don’t feel like being positive is going to help either. You’re both sort of stuck. “I can’t tell you about either man. But you understand now why I was the way I was when I came back after being gone so long?”

Two attempts to think on this a moment, face tense as he considers all the possibilities. In the end, he lets out a quiet “yeah”.

“Jesus,” he huffs in a panic. “If that guy was sneaking around doing awful shit, he must have been doing it this whole time. Are they watching us deal with all this? Do they know everything we say and think? I never wanted to think about it, but…”

“I won’t say,” you answer glumly, but in such a way that it’s obvious that you mean “yes”. This hardly makes it better, and Two just brings a hand back to his hair to fiddle with it anxiously again.

“Fuck,” He breathes. “Ten, what do we do? The others-”

“They’ll find out eventually,” you state confidently. “Somehow. But we can’t talk about it. When he said not to, he meant it. Believe me when I say you don’t want him coming back after you.”

“Has he? To you?”

“Yes.” You don’t hide that fact. “He’s tormented me a lot since I got back. It’s best I don’t say why. But it’s in your best interest to lay low. As for what happened? It’s not the first time I’ve seen it. I know I must be acting so casual about all this and making it seem like I don’t care.”

“I don’t think that at all.” Two finds your words confusing, though his panicked state does not lessen. “Ten I don’t even know if I’m reacting the right way. I’m freaked out but I’m even more freaked out that I’m gonna die too because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to. I feel selfish as fuck, but if I go away, what’s going to happen to Three? All this is just fucking me up and I can’t even tell what I’m supposed to be doing.

“But that’s the thing—I keep having to remind myself that I can’t do anything about what happened. I can’t bring Charlie back. I keep seeing in my head everything I had to witness, and I’m stressed out about it. But I can’t change it. I feel helpless. Is this how Cyrus felt? How you’ve felt?”

“You have your own reactions, he has his,” you try to bring him down. “But ‘helpless’ is definitely the right word. I felt the same, and still do. The first few times I saw death were hard for me to accept, and even now, it’s difficult. Charlie was important to us.”

You frown. “Did you cry? Get angry? Anything?”

“I wanted to cry,” Two answers, voice low. “I didn’t. I just panicked. When I woke up today, I couldn’t really breathe because I remembered what happened so vividly. I woke up thinking I’d have a gun in my face. My doctor tried to talk me through it, but I couldn’t listen to him. And even when Gale tried to talk me down, it all just felt surreal. I felt like I was constantly looking through a screen and not really experiencing it all myself. And I feel weird about not reacting worse than I am. I feel defeated, but not broken. Panicked, but not dysfunctional.”

Two shakes his head. “I wonder if I’ve seen this shit before. Gone through it. Or maybe I’m just disillusioned. Desensitized. I’ve been through a lot in this place. Never death that I can recall, but a lot of other bullshit. I just feel like it isn’t real, because if I try reminding myself that it is, I panic. And I can’t just let anyone see me like that. I have to be responsible, because I have someone I have to take care of. Because I have people I want to keep safe. Friends that I don’t want to disappoint.”

“I can understand, but I don’t want you to deny it hard enough that it affects you,” you warn him. “You’re not wrong for wanting to smile in the face of misery, you know. You’ve never been super imbalanced with that. But I wouldn’t want you to start being that now. And I don’t want you to panic either, but at least we can work through that together. Either way, you and I both have something in common now. We can talk to each other about it if we need to. Doesn’t that help a little?”

“I guess it’s better than holding it in,” Two supposes. “I hate that we have to keep getting together like this over dramatic shit. I never know how to deal with this stuff. I’m not in tune with my emotions like some of the others. I avoid things I can’t understand or deal with. I don’t know how to be serious.”

“You think everyone else does?” You question. “Some of the others worked a lot to get where they are. I guess I’ll be selfish and admit I think it is unfair that some of them are naturally pretty level-headed, but it’s not like they don’t struggle too. If you have to panic, you can. Just don’t do anything stupid. And don’t do anything that’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m not about to do something stupid just to get away from the stress,” Two bites back, almost offended that you’d suggest so. But as if regretting his attitude, he softens himself slightly.

“I…I know what it is to lose people. For them to be there one day and gone the next. I never had to watch them die. Maybe that made it easier to move on and forget about it. But, truth is, I had to lose them just like Cyrus did. I’m sorry if you’re so worried about me, but this is just how I am. I need to find a way to get over it before I explode. But I’ll do that on my own.”

You look down. “It’s not like you to want to do everything on your own.”

“Talking about it isn’t a bad thing,” Two tries to explain himself. “I’m not refusing it. I can talk to people, sure. But I can’t do only that. I can’t sit there and spill my guts out and have things be okay. I’m gonna freak out about it. I’m gonna go through the motions. Just let me.”

You lean in to try catching his face, because by now, Two has hung his head. “Why did you reach out to me in the hall to begin with if you just wanted to be alone? Why were you looking back and hoping that I’d come out?”

“Because I don’t wanna be.” Two sputters this out with heavy breaths, and you realize just why he’s hung his head.

“Two…” You aren’t sure what to say, or if you should acknowledge that he’s on the verge of crying. You just let him talk.

“What am I supposed to do if things get worse? Two demands, hands now coming up to his face as if it's going to hide that he’s started to tear up. Despite his sputtering, he still tries hard to hold things in. “What am I supposed to tell her? What do I do if she finds out?”

You’re left surprised. “You’re…You’re still thinking about your sister?”

“I just don’t want to lose her. And I don’t want her to lose me.”

“Two, that won’t happen,” you assure him. “You know how to keep quiet, right? I told you, nobody will come after you if you just let this slide. We can talk about it, but all you can do is be there for whoever needs comfort if they’re hurt by finding out what happened.”

“I know that,” Two shakes his head. He wipes at his eyes, still fighting to keep himself from actually crying. “I know what I need to do. But I’m still freaked out about it, okay? I’m so fucked up about us fighting and then now I gotta be fucked up about this too!”

Finally, he drops his hands and tries to suck in breaths through his mouth. Two’s eyes are slightly red now with all the pressure and tension he’s fighting against, but he refuses to look at you, embarrassed to be seen this way.

“I shouldn’t care about her right now but I do,” he tells you. “I don’t want things to go sour anymore. But everything’s just been getting worse and worse. I miss being able to laugh it all off. And now that I’m scared of what might happen to me, I’m scared that I’m going to leave off on a bad note with her. That we’re just going to fight and that her last memories of me will be awful.”

You put a cautious hand on his shoulder, heart beating slightly faster after hearing all these words. “Two…you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“I’m just freaked out,” is all Two says “I-I don’t know if I’m even speaking words right now. All this talk is making my tongue and my head numb. But I see what happened to Charlie and I just wind up afraid that it could be me on that floor. It’s why I say I feel selfish. Like I’m not caring that he died, but that I could instead. I don’t care if you say it’s an irrational fear.”

“I never said it was!” You fight him. “You have every right to be afraid! But please, I don’t want you to end up so fucked up that you get hurt. Please remember we’re here for you.”

Two doesn’t acknowledge this and goes quiet for a while. Again, he brings his hands to his head and scratches at it in his bothered state.

“How the hell am I just gonna pretend it’s okay?” He asks. “I’ve done it for so long but that was back when Three wasn’t angry at me and I wasn’t out here witnessing murders. Everything’s really stressing me out lately. I was hanging by a thread back there, trying to be social, you know? I couldn’t even bring myself to speak and actually pretend things were fine. I was comatose. A zombie.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you remind him. “It fucks me up how much I have to see. Sometimes I hold it in and play pretend, sometimes I let it out. You have to choose what you want to do. But right now, it’s clear you need some time to wind down and think about what to do and how to handle this. You’re starting to go on and on left and right about things because you’re afraid. And it’s okay to be, but you can’t let yourself fall like that!”

“If I think about it any more, I’m gonna pop,” Two tells you, frustrated. “But if I keep laughing things off, I’m just gonna go the opposite way. Caring about nothing and just treating everything like a joke while everything burns around me. I feel like I was already headed there because I just laughed things off so much. You don’t understand just how avoidant I am with stuff like this. I don’t like to think. No matter how much I’ve tried to be, I’m no better than my sister. Hell, even Blue has her own shit figured out better than I do. She knows when to stop being a jerk and talk to someone.”

“Don’t do that,” you shoot back, attempting to snap him out of his woeful state. “Nobody’s better than you. You just need a little time to get a grip on things. You don’t have to pretend it’s all okay all the time, but you don’t have to wallow in misery either. If being around people is going to stress you out when the emotions from what happened are still raw, maybe you need time to yourself before you’re ready to talk things through again. Being alone for a little while to take time to think isn’t the same as total social isolation, you know.”

“I don’t wanna let Pickle or my sister down,” Two mutters. “I don’t want to say no to them if they want to hang around. And maybe I don’t actually want to be alone.”

“Then don’t, if you don’t want to,” you say, ignoring his weird switch between wants and chalking it up to panic. “But don’t let your desire to make them happy and avoid misery yourself overshadow your senses, Two. They both love you, and when things are dire, they will both help you. Even though Three was frustrated with Pickle, he was the first thing she thought of that day Twelve hurt him. She may be soft, but she isn’t a baby. And Pickle is your friend—of course he’s gonna pick up on the fact that you’re not yourself. What will you say when he asks what’s wrong and why?”

“But I can’t tell him or anyone about this,” Two reminds you. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone?”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Well, you find ways around it. There are ways to tell them you need help without telling them why. I’ve done it quite a lot, and no doubt Cyrus has too.”

Finally, Two calms down a bit. He drops his hands again, and leans back while moving his legs out before him instead of keeping them folded. You stay patiently quiet as you let him mull things over, watching as he looks up at the ceiling and lets out a series of long breaths as if trying to expel his anxieties.

When he finally gets to talking again, he doesn’t say just what you expect.

“I’m a member of the world’s shittiest club.”

“At least you don’t have to suffer alone,” you try to stay upbeat despite the miserable implications of that statement. Whatever it was, you take it as a meager joke from a place of misery. A really pitiful attempt to regain control. You feel bad for him. “If you don’t want to talk just to me, then talk to Cyrus sometime. About how he deals with all this. He’s been helpful to me, and I know he’ll want to help you too.”

“I’m not into that meditation thing,” Two mumbles tiredly, no doubt left exhausted from his initial burst of miserable feelings. “But he and I have a lot more in common since we’ve been here the longest. I just don’t know what to tell him.”

“You know him, he’s pretty patient and open-minded,” you try to say with a meager smile. “I wish I could talk to anyone about this too, but I think right now I feel a little better having talked to you. And I feel better seeing that you’re calming down a little.”

“Just a little.” Two almost gives a weary laugh as he falls back to the floor and lays against it. The bright light from the ceiling beats on him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Ten, I miss him.”

You’re left stricken by this statement, unable to speak for a moment as you hear the sincerity in Two’s voice. But you refuse to let yourself sit in silence.

“I do too,” is your hushed response. You're glad Two laid back, because your face is not one you want him to see right now. You’re just as tense as he is.

Two only sighs. “But I don’t want to go back to that cafeteria for a while.”

“Me either.”

As you sit there, you look around mindlessly at all the books on the shelves nearby, skimming all the colors on each cover. It’s a meager attempt to distract yourself from the woes of the conversation without completely removing yourself from it.

“We still have to try to keep going,” you continue. “If it makes you feel better, we can go there together. When we’re ready. We can’t really just leave the new person in the dark forever. After Charlie, I don’t want to leave the workers behind like that.”

“When we’re ready? When will that be?” Two remains uncertain.

“When you say so,” you answer, now turning your head just enough to look at Two as he lays still. “Just promise me you’ll talk to someone? Me, Cyrus, or anyone?”

“I will,” Two assures, if with exhaustion in his voice now. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out, but…”

“I know.” You wind up rubbing your arm awkwardly. “It’s scary. It makes your head run with a lot of awful thoughts. You aren’t alone, Two. But I’ve almost let myself fall into a dark place once before. I won’t let it happen again. This scares me. This makes my mind run just like yours, believe me. But it’s not the end of the world. I sure as hell won’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else. You can’t stop what happens in this place, but you can try to fight its hold on you in other ways. Letting yourself be fucked up by it all is just one way of letting the horrors of this place win over you.”

After having laid there for a while, Two finally sits back up. His legs cross, and he hunches over on his knees.

“Right. You mentioned earlier you’ve seen this a few times,” he points out. “How many people have-“

“Several,” you cut him off quickly, embittered by the reminder. “I’ve seen several deaths. Plenty of abuse. Plenty of blood. But it never gets easier. I’m not fully used to it any more than you are. I don’t understand any man like him that could be.”

“You called him Lucius,” Two points out. “Right?”

You hesitate to answer, but do eventually give a low “yes”.

“I remember hearing you call out to him, begging him to stop. Were you afraid I’d die?” Two looks at you with worry.

“I was.” You don’t want to have to talk more about the issue when you just barely got Two to stop throwing panicked questions and assumptions at you, but you’d hate to leave him hanging too. “You were never supposed to see that. I was afraid he’d hurt you.”

Two frowns. “I was afraid he’d hurt you too. I didn’t know what was going on or why. I just saw a dead man fall to the floor and saw a gun pointed right at me just after. It was horrifying.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I know the feeling well. I’m glad you got out of it with just a warning, at least. Neither of us were actively trying to sabotage them, and in the end, we did what we were told. That’s why I keep saying that if we just follow his rules, we’ll be okay.”

Two’s eyes remain steadfast on you. “And you know that for sure?”

No, you don’t. You really don’t. You worry just as much as Two does that he’s in The Overseer’s radar. Maybe you shouldn’t be worried at all when you’re right about how little Two had an impact on anything. He didn’t do anything wrong. So why do you feel unsure?

Perhaps it’s fear. You feel fear, just as he does. Your own brand of it, really, but fear nonetheless.

However, at this moment, Two needs some kind of assurance. If he has any hope of getting through this, you can’t just abandon him now.

Without hesitation, you look Two in the eye again.

“Yes,” you tell him. “I know.”

And for now, this is all you can leave him with. Whether or not he believes you, you can’t tell. But after your back and forth, Two finally expresses he wants a little time alone to think, apparently finally accepting your words distinguishing loneliness from brief time away from something.

You don’t argue, but do make sure he promises to seek you out later if needed. Only when he promises to do you leave the library and let Two try to parse things for himself.

You feel as if your support was a sham. You truly believed most things you said, but don’t feel as if your help was adequate enough because you yourself are so limited in what you can share and how you can influence Two or anyone else. If he only knew the full truth, maybe he wouldn’t be so lost. But of course, knowing the whole truth would also come with a whole new set of miseries.

What would have been the right thing to do, then? You can’t really gauge everyone adequately.

Regardless, you’re left back into the hall alone, until you choose to return to the rec room and sit with the others.

The day goes by quickly given how late you came. But you don’t much mind it with nothing positive having come out of your time here. At the very least, you are glad that when Two emerges after everyone’s been called to go back to their rooms, and you see him in the hall with the others, that he isn’t as morose as he was before. He’s not chipper, but does at least give you a light wave before meeting with his doctor.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jonathan expresses to Monica in regards to Mom’s absence as his Number joins his side. “Just don’t rile her up about it when she comes back, yeah?”

“She probably did it on purpose,” Micah adds as he waits impatiently for Violet. He stands at the furthest corner from the gate, away from the other doctors who are gathered nearby and waiting on their Numbers. With some of the others already having gone, it’s only Jonathan, Nathaniel, Micah, Jude, and Yosuke who are left.

Yosuke is standing by idly as you walk uncomfortably past a few of the others to him, with eyes undoubtedly trailing. Monica, meanwhile, remains by the office door, leaning against its frame by her shoulder. She glances at Micah with a pout as he makes his comments.

“Why do you care, anyway?” He questions.

“Well, I do work with her,” Monica tries to explain herself. “I can’t help being worried about someone I see every day.”

“A woman like her surely doesn’t give a damn about you the same way,” Jude comments as he rifles through some collected paperwork in his hands. He pays no mind to you or Two in the hall, although he did give you a disgusting little comment at first. Jude laughs at his own remark as if it were a hearty joke. “She’s a petty one. I wouldn’t worry so much.”

“And I suppose you and Sven are singing hymns together in your office?” Monica questions with a lowered brow while you finally take your place in front of Yosuke.

Jude sighs. “Oh, don’t remind me. He’s still leaving me with a lot of the heavier work even when he does show up to do some of it. He’s not at all bad at it, he just lacks gumption. You know, moxie.”

“And other outdated phrases,” Micah cracks with a cocked brow.

“Certainly you don’t think you’re so timeless,” adds Nathaniel, smiling politely. Amused by the spectacle, even Jonathan chimes in with such a lively tone that it’s almost comical.

“Right! Even a tattoo lasts longer than a balisong.”

Micah huffs. “Oh lovely, the theater kids are bullying me.”

Yosuke does not pick you up in the presence of so many people, but does wrap an arm around you and urge you to stay closer to him. You only turn your head to look back at Two, finding that he’s avoiding everyone and just glancing at the floor. Jonathan has his hands on his shoulders, but does not bother him otherwise.

Yosuke doesn’t stay by. He chose not to speak up during the conversation, and still chooses to stay silent now as he makes his exit. Nobody really pays him any mind, with Jude far too entertained by whatever conversation is going on between his colleagues. It’s odd to see them so chipper when things are so sour right now, but you suppose you aren’t much different.

There’s always been a line between the grim and the amusing. You have often gone between being miserable and laughing so long as the scenery is different. You relied so much on being with your family to make you happy, but even that has its limits.

And it’s not as if the other doctors aren’t a little concerned about one thing or another—though they all managed to laugh things off expertly, you could see Monica’s pressing worry in the tightness of her lips, and Jonathan’s own in how he laughed just a little differently than usual despite trying to seem casual and lively. Given the situation his Number is in, you’ve no doubt in your mind he must be concerned.

But it isn’t the doctors you care about.

As you’re taken away from the others, you keep your eye on Two until you pass the corner and can no longer see him. All you do is hope desperately that he’ll be okay.

“Do we need to discuss it again?” Yosuke asks when you’re alone with him, but you refuse the offer.

“I’m still shaken up by it,” you admit. “Most things pass, so I guess this will too. I just don’t like correlating letting things go for my own sake with being forgetful of something important.”

“Mm?” Yosuke stands at your bedside as you lay down on his whim. “Are you afraid of forgetting him?”

“I already don’t remember my past,” you say, blankly staring at the fabric of the bedsheets. “I’d hate to forget people I’ve met here. I know I won’t actually, but it feels almost wrong brushing aside the dead so quickly just so I can keep living.”

“It’s how we cope, dear,” Yosuke reminds you. He hovers over you slightly and reaches a hand to pet your head. “We can’t stop everything just to mourn forever. It isn’t practical. Keep good memories, drop the painful.”

“Since when do you give a shit about how I feel, anyway?” You mutter, not giving into his kind routine. Yosuke only laughs softly, but ignores your harsh question to avoid another pointless spat.

“Goodnight, dear.”

Days pass, with each being as tepid as the one before. After what happened with Charlie, nothing else exceptional or unusual occurs, and you consider that a blessing since you’ve been worried about the possibility of Two being dragged into The Overseer’s menacing path over what happened.

The lack of excitement in that way doesn’t mean there isn’t excitement at all, however. The crafts and music rooms both slowly become repopulated with new supplies to a point that they’re nearly like before. The only thing lacking, however, are the instruments.

“I feel impatient,” Eight says one morning upon braving the previously empty room with a few of the others. “But I suppose I have no choice but to wait.”

You continue to dodge Twelve, who is apparently always present when you are, so much so that it’s suspicious and leaves you worried. He never approaches you when the others are around, but there is one moment where he catches you alone for just a small moment before Six arrives. Twelve is unable to get much word in, but once Six sees he’s antagonizing you, she steps in and tells him to back off. Not caring to invite her to the conversation, Twelve slinks back to his isolation.

“What does he even want?” Five asks later when she’s made aware of it.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know.”

You’d worried he would seek you out after what happened, but now it looks like you were right. But why bother? You had nothing to do with any of that.

Either way, most people try not to leave you alone when you’re around after it’s made clear there’s a pattern in Twelve’s behavior of seeking you out. And frankly, being around them is comforting as you continue to reel over Charlie’s death.

It’s hard to avoid food, unfortunately. You refuse to touch it the first few days, leaving Yosuke frustrated and having to either threaten force-feeding you, or do it automatically.

“I’m not about to let you starve yourself,” he remarks in displeasure. “I was trying to be kind and give you the autonomy as well as the space, but it seems that was a mistake. Eat, or I will make you.”

After the first time he forces you to, you try not to avoid the food again. Looking at it each day, however, only leaves you feeling heartbroken.

Two is apparently on the same boat, occasionally telling you that he struggles to finish or even start eating. While you attempt to give him space, you do keep a close eye on him and periodically check on him when you know he’s chosen to isolate a bit. Each time, he tries to talk to you about how he’s doing, and how he’s feeling.

“I guess it helps,” he admits. “I have been trying to talk with Cyrus sometimes, but it’s hard to lie to him. Still, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m really sorry if I freaked you out before. I don’t take fear very well.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, is all,” you tell him. “But if you’re not, don’t hide that from me either. Okay?”

He only gives a quiet “yeah” in response.

But something about the way he avoids your eyes worries you. Still, you can’t force an answer out of him. But you won’t abandon him either.

“Charlie’s been kinda quiet,” Blue notes one day, sending you into an immediately tense state as you sit in the rec room with her. “I felt like eating today and he didn’t really answer me when I asked him stuff. But he did give me an apology candy that tasted like strawberries. Lose-win I guess.”

“I-I guess so,” you try to play it off. You’re starting to wonder if it’s completely and morally wrong to let them keep thinking he’s okay. But on the other hand, does nobody suspect something’s off beyond a few small instances? You can’t tell.

You wish they’d find out already. You’d selfishly like to rip the bandage off so that you all can start healing together from square one, so that you and Two don’t have to keep suffering alone.

Luckily, these moments are few. For the most part, you are able to live as if nothing occurred, and you are even able to laugh at a few things now and then. Sometimes you force it just to trick yourself into believing it’s a genuine laugh, but there are moments where it comes naturally.

Even Two, after a few bouts of self-isolation, is able to return to the group and pretend to smile again. It’s only when he looks at you that his smile fades, but neither of you ever acknowledge it while among the others.

“I feel like a fraud,” he tells you later in private. “I even told Gale that. They just said it’s normal to feel all kinds of terrible things after a loss, but that it doesn’t change who I am. Is that right?”

“Somewhat,” you don’t deny it. “I haven’t felt what you feel precisely, but I do feel bad when I smile and I shouldn’t. When I laugh after I just dealt with a tragedy. It feels strange to play things off. To lie and hold things in. But I also know if I don’t at least have a little bit of distraction sometimes, I might not make it through the day. So, laughing can be helpful too, even if you’re forcing it a little.”

Two sighs. “Three’s starting to ask questions. She hasn’t been getting as argumentative with me because I’m not biting back as hard when she upsets me. Now she’s pointing it out more, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

“I don’t have answers myself, but just don’t let her freak out about the worst possible reason you’re down,” you tell him. “You panicked while you were fresh with the horrors of what happened, but she’s also the same as you that way. She’ll let her mind run if you don’t help her stop it. So, help her help you stop your own mind from running too.”

“That’s certainly some interesting advice,” Gale laughs later during a short visit with you, purely to speak with you further about your mental state. “Well, Two may not express it, but he is grateful for your company, Ten.”

“I guess this is how Cyrus felt dealing with me?” You question. Gale gives a nod.

“If you choose to read it that way. Do you tire of having to help others?”

“It’s work, but it’s not work I regret unless there aren’t results,” you shrug while sitting in your bed. “Don’t tell me you feel the same.”

“I do what I do for many reasons,” is Gale’s calm answer. “I won’t say I’m always successful when it comes to saving people.”

“How so…?” You’re left worried, but confused as to their meaning. Gale frowns.

“I couldn’t save my previous Number. He was too hysterical to help. He hurt too much, and he was too stubborn about his woes. I had no way to stop him from the destruction he caused, and the consequences that brought.”

Your eyes widen. “You let him die.”

“That’s a bit too conclusive, and not necessarily the case. It was a failure that I don’t look back fondly on,” Gale admits with a displeased tone. “Had I the chance, perhaps I’d have done more, and differently. But he chose his path, and I had no choice but to accept our parting.”

You look away. “Did you enjoy observing him too?”

“I won’t say no, but I won’t say I was okay with what was happening,” Gale answers without hesitation. “I have a heart, Ten. I won’t blame you for being so skeptical and biting, but don’t toss me away so quickly. I can still help you in many ways.”

“Why don’t you?” You demand quickly. “You are closer to The Overseer than most other doctors that aren’t tied to his past. Why don’t you try to save yourself and us by trying to stop him?”

“How?”

“I-I don’t know!” You cry out. “Use your mind tricks on him. Make him regret doing all this!?”

“Kill him?” Gale tilts their head.

You settle down and shake your head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“But you are asking me to help you?”

“I won’t ask you to do anything if it’s going to lead me to a visit from him.” You remain sincere, refusing to outright ask Gale for any kind of assistance in fear that they may still relay everything to The Overseer. “I told you I’m not planning anything. I can’t even if I wanted to.”

Rather than dwell on the subject, you just wind up falling silent after saying this. Gale, however, does not take issue with your sentiment. They place their hands in their lap calmly, and watch you.

“Do you think you are the only one who has ever wanted to leave?”

“No,” you respond glumly, avoiding Gale’s eyes. “Everyone lets it cross their mind one way or another. Some even find ways to break out even if their attempts fail, right? Like Jay.”

“Jay is not the only one who has ever attempted to flee,” Gale tells you. “I suppose one of the previous Numbers did try to plan something out, but she didn’t get very far with her ambitions. She wasn’t really one to last long anyway in her state.”

“The other Eight?”

“Yes.” Gale admits it so casually. You’d find it suspicious, though know that many of the other Numbers stopped having relevance in this facility long ago. The Overseer didn’t even really care that you spoke of Jade freely, nor did he care of Jonathan or Nathaniel bringing up that they lost their old Numbers. It’s simply the hows and whys of the circumstance that they kept under wraps.

Gale continues. “I don’t know the details of her passing. I only know she had become as rash as my own Number in her desperation, but acted solo. But she is not who I mean when I say that others have attempted escape before. Let it not leave here, but the boy before you had his own ambitions.”

“He tried to leave?” You’re not shocked by the idea, but are surprised that Gale would tell you this at all. Unfortunately, they don’t elaborate, bringing a hand slightly up, palm out toward you, as if to signal to calm down.

“I will only say that much. He was a diligent young man. Leadery. And certainly stubborn about his desire to leave. Almost like Twelve, but not quite as rash about the actions he took to make that happen. He simply refused to let this place eat him alive. Unfortunately, it did anyway.”

You aren’t sure what to say. No doubt the guy was killed for attempting to run, then, but why on earth was his presence erased from the others’ minds? So little of him remains. What the hell could he have done? And did he do it alone?

Gale closes their eyes as they mull over everything you both have said. They drop their topic of the previous Ten, but summarize their point thusly:

“Consider my decision to tell you that as a slight warning against acting irrationally. I can help you in some ways, Ten, but I can’t help you in every way. I can tell you some things to help tide you over. I can provide my support for you where you need it most. That is about the extent of my reach.”

“But The Overseer is-“

Gale’s eyes open again, and they stop you. “Is there a reason you call him that?”

“It’s what he wanted,” you remind them. “He wouldn’t give me his name. But I know it now. Surely you know that if you watched the cameras. Lucius was bitter about it. Threatened me against saying it ever again.”

“Is he here?” Gale pecks curiously. “Say it, if you would. Softly.”

You wince. “I…”

Gale watches you in wait of your response. It’s clear you’re afraid, but you can’t fathom why they want you to say it. Nonetheless, they sit there, waiting for it. Despite hesitating, you try to convince yourself that maybe it’ll be okay, so long as Lucius can’t hear you.

“Ulrich.”

Finally, Gale smiles. “There’s an old belief that saying the name of a demon gives you power over them. In this case, that’s a little far-fetched, and I won’t expect you to keep saying his name. But isn’t it nice to believe in something that way?”

You remain on edge. “What if Lucius is listening?”

“I assure you he has far better things to do. Do you want to know more about our devilish doctor? The one who steals memories?”

You sheepishly nod, as if afraid to say yes. However, Gale does not indulge your curiosity. Instead, they frown slightly, as if disappointed.

“So would I. But for as close to his work as I am compared to some others, it’s unfortunate that I can’t get close enough to him to know just what goes on in his head. That’s why I say it’s hard for me to take power over him in any way. It’s why I say I can’t quite help you.”

You’re left disheartened, but not disappointed. You figured Gale couldn’t tell you much.

“Changing my boss’ mind is hard to do, Ten,” they go on. “Stopping him in another way is even harder. If I try to stop him and I fail, then all it will have done is cost you is one of your lifelines to sanity, because he will kill me.”

“But he said he needed you,” you refuse the possibility. Gale shakes their head.

“He needs me for a lot of things, but he will cut off a limb if he absolutely must, so long as it isn’t one that he needs more. Playing around in the garden is one thing. Total and intentional betrayal is another. I can’t do anything for you beyond supporting you here, even if it is occasionally for my own gain.”

You scrunch up your face, hurt by their words. You don’t know what else to ask of them, but one more thing, as a means to try gauging how sincere they are about caring about you. It might be a faulty or pointless gesture, but you aren’t sure what else to ask.

“When I die, will you miss me?”

Gale’s icy eyes shift up toward you, and the doctor gives a soft expression.

“Dearly.”

As more days pass, more items get added to the once-destroyed rooms. Instruments are about the last thing to come, but Eight finds some satisfaction in knowing they’re being replaced at all.

He picks up one of the violins one day, examining it by touch while the others watch him.

“It’s hollower,” he remarks with dissatisfaction. “I figured as much.”

You’re unsure just how he can be so in tune with the make of an instrument that he can just tell the slightest things are off. It makes sense, but you still find it remarkable and sad all at once, because it’s clear to you he doesn’t want anything less than what he was used to. However, he glances your way for just a moment and attempts to change his tune.

“But I suppose I’ll try to make it work.”

Twelve no longer attempts to be destructive beyond occasionally kicking walls or objects in anger. It’s generally hard for him to be destructive anyway, with his hands continually bound. He strangely makes no comments about the repaired rooms, but does kick things around as he examines the undone damage. Almost as if he’s disappointed that it’s all back right where it was, despite knowing it would be.

However, while the rooms are generally repaired, the morale has not been. Three had said she wouldn’t go back to the crafts room until it was fixed, but it still takes her a while to actually step foot in it even when the others try to tell her it’s safe. She never gives any real reason as to why she refuses, only ever saying “not now” or “maybe later” and continuing to either sleep, or glue herself to the television.

She and Two continue to have their displeasing discussions, though you still try keeping up with Two to make sure he’s doing okay.

“It’s a little easier each day,” he admits. “But I still don’t feel ready to go back to that cafeteria.”

“Are you at least eating?” You question while rummaging gently through the new bins in the crafts room to see if there has been anything new added. Unfortunately, it’s all quite the same.

“I am,” Two answers, arms crossed and body leaning back against a nearby wall. “A little more each day. It…tastes the same. To me, anyway. I heard Violet doesn’t think so.”

This is the first you’ve heard of this, and so you ask. “When did she say that?”

“The other day,” Two relays, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. “She said it tasted a little different. Spicy dishes are spicier. Seafood is more flavorful. She says it’s weird, but she didn’t ask questions about it since it tasted good.”

“They still keep calling for him,” You mutter, dropping your hand. “Blue said he wasn’t acting like himself. They’re going to find out soon, I know it.”

“I just hope it doesn’t break Three.”

Again, he seems preoccupied with his sister, and you are left wondering just why. He was trying so hard to get away from her. Sure, he’s still technically distancing himself. He promised that he no longer wanted to rely on older habits of his, after all. But it remains striking just how much the tide has turned since he witnessed Charlie’s death. Or was it when he met Lucius?

You think back to when Two reacted to him. He’d said “you”, as if he knew something. But how could he? Or is he like you, where you recognized a man you never fully met? You can remember feeling familiarity to his face and The Overseer’s way back then. Given that Lucius has been the one capturing most people, it shouldn’t be surprising that Two might have seen him once, and that’s why he reacted how he did. Maybe he didn’t know how else to.

Luckily, it doesn’t appear that little remark has been troublesome for him. He’s still here. You can imagine The Overseer might have given him a quick look-over after the fact just to be certain there wasn’t anything unusual, but for the most part, Two has gone untouched. You hope it stays that way.

Another time, you learn that Monica has given Pickle a new pair of scissors to play with. Once the crafts room is back up, he tucks his set where he had it last time, a smile spread on his face. And, in his excitement, he talks with Two about how relieved he is to have them back.

You notice that Two continues to act normally around him to a point that it’s almost like he was before. He started off failing to laugh or pay attention, having to often go off on his own. Now, he’s getting better at treating each day like a normal one.

Pickle keeps his gleeful state up, but you can tell that, at times, he is checking Two often to see whether he can spot obvious issues with his mood. And even if it isn’t so obvious, he is in tune enough with his friend to still know when Two needs his help.

“He’s been kinda down,” Pickle tells you later on once Two is taken for a visit and the duo is parted. “I wish I knew why. But he won’t talk to me about anything specific.”

He tries to smile instead of frown. “I trimmed his hair the other day. I know you might think it’s a small gesture and mindless self-fulfillment, but it’s more than that.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish at all,” you refuse him. “But what do you mean?”

Pickle scratches at the back of his neck. “Well, it’s also a way for me to get to touch someone and give them that attention they need if they can’t stomach something like hugs or any other close comfort. You know? A guy like Two doesn’t get a whole lot of positive affection. He’s told me once before that he likes being touched in theory, but I know he might not always admit when he wants it. He’s kind of shy about that stuff. But I know him, and I know when he needs it.”

“Why not just actually hug him or something?” You question. Pickle frowns again, concerned.

“That’s the thing—he doesn’t really know how to handle that kind of affection from guys, even casually. I think it’s because of his doctor. It freaks him out when he has to deal with it from another man like that, because all he’s known is non-consensual affection. Even with friends, he doesn’t really know how to just be casual about it.”

You almost want to think “aside from with Three”, but you realize that even that was never something he wanted to do. It makes your heart ache, thinking about it. Two never wanted anything the way it happened. But he’s told you before he likes the feeling of warmth. You never thought about it that way, and now the extent of his misery has been put into a new perspective for you.

Pickle looks down at the pink floor of the crafts room as he slides his thumb against the silvery end of his scissors. You both had been standing a while at the shelves, but when Pickle sat down after being tired of standing so long, you joined him too.

“I feel bad for him,” he says, melancholy. “I know he won’t admit it, but he feels comforted when I trim his hair. He gets attention he really needs. And I sometimes wish it’d grow back a little faster just so I could do it more often. But without that, all I can do is be by his side and make sure he’s okay. You know? I know I’m not his sister and that for them, family comes first, but I care about him too.”

You look at him with surprise. “Oh. O-of course, I understand. You know, you’re a big softie.”

Pickle blushes with embarrassment. “Yeah. But I still gotta be defensive when people get after me. Twelve especially. I know I’m a weaker guy, but I still would try to act if I had to. I almost did the day he caused all that trouble.”

“Well, you do have scissors,” you point out, making Pickle chuckle a bit to shake away his gloom.

“I’m not sure it’s worth ruining these just to cut a motherfucker up.” He then lowers a brow. “But I could do that.”

That’s a side of the guy you definitely didn’t know about, nor one you want to explore. Ever.

For a while, things seem to go back to normal aside from the occasional Two check-up. The rooms that were once closed are again utilized, to some extent. You even wind up stopping by the music room when Eight, Five, and Six are around to peek in on their lessons. While Eight had so many reservations about the violin replacement, when you sit there and watch him give instruction to the girls on musical notation and theory, you can see just how in the swing of things he’s gotten.

“You’re not so bad at this,” you remark while observing his instruction once, to which he points a bow at you, frowns, and tells you,

“No talking in my class.”

Lav occasionally drops into the lessons to try applying them to the viola, but she struggles quite a bit to fully comprehend playing it.

“I guess I’m not the most musical person anymore, if I ever was,” she sighs after the end of one lesson. “But it’s fine. I’m glad some of us are having some kind of productivity boom again. It’s a little refreshing after all the muck we’ve had to deal with.”

“I expected I’d be rustier after that long break,” Five comments with a light chuckle. “Good to know I didn’t lose any of that.”

“Speak for yourself! I gotta practice a little more,” Six whines slightly. “What a pain.”

This only makes Lav laugh. It’s good to see her laugh again rather than hold her ground against Twelve like she’s had to.

Watching Eight teach is one thing, but hearing him play again? Well, you certainly missed the sweet notes of his music. Even on an instrument he claims pales in comparison to his other, he produces such lovely melodies with no less passion than he had far before he lost his first violin.

“He loves to play,” Cyrus remarks quietly one day as he sits with you, listening to his friend perform. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.”

“Happy?” You question, leaning against Cyrus for comfort. “I don’t see him smile that much.”

“It’s a soulful happiness,” explains Cyrus with a gentle smile as he observes Eight’s playing. “He doesn’t have to smile physically. You can see it in the way he moves and plays—he’s reunited with something important to him.”

Your eyes shift over to the blue cloth of Cyrus’ shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes.

“You would know that well, I guess,” you tell him, gently reaching a hand over to hold his. “I’m glad he has someone like you to confide in.”

Cyrus’ fingers curl over your palm. “Me too.”

Admittedly, things don’t fully go back to the same normal as before, but they’re less hectic and stressful, you suppose. At least for the others, they are.

Unfortunately, for as many breaks from him as you all occasionally get, Twelve still sees to it that he continues to be a problem even despite what’s been done to restrain and restrict him. He always tries to fight out of his cuffs, always bullies others when he’s around them, always makes everyone hold their breath when he enters a room until they can be sure he isn’t going to do something stupid.

And always, he keeps looking for you.

You continue to stick with others. Not just one other person, but a group of people. You won’t let yourself deal with him right now when you’re still trying to deal with so much other shit.

“I wish he’d go away,” you tell Dahlia while in bed one day. You realize it’s been a while since you tried to speak with her. After Charlie, you couldn’t even bring yourself to do that. But you guess it’s easier to now. “Things could have been a little better if he hadn’t showed up.”

Is that even true? You just tell yourself it is just to feel better. But realistically, had he never shown up, he might not have rattled everyone’s “comfort” in the facility. You know there’s a reason the others were all trying to accept being here. There was hardly any other choice. A part of you wants to think he had a good point, but you just hate how he went about it. And it isn’t like you’re all completely disillusioned. You know it’s a terrible, awful place. You all hate it here. Even Blue, for as much as she pretends it’s all fine, knows when to set aside her façade and get serious.

She told you one day before this, privately:

“It’s not like it gets easier or something. You just learn how to navigate it better. I mean, either you do, or you don’t. Three sure as hell isn’t doing so well.”

“What do we do about it?” You asked in turn, but only got a shrug in response.

“Wish I knew.”

If only Dahlia could help you figure out what to do and how to act. Maybe if you gave someone that responsibility, someone who wasn’t just a despicable piece of shit, you might be a lot better off.

“No,” you change your mind aloud. “Relying on others almost sunk me last time. There’s a lot I have to do on my own, isn’t there?”

She won’t tell you.

The next day, you find that most of the other Numbers are scarce, with only a few sprinkled around the pool and gym areas. You’ve tried to work out a few times here and there with Lav and Cyrus, but don't feel like exerting yourself today. Rather, you wind up back in the music room, hoping that someone might be in there playing something that will take your mind off of things. Thankfully there is someone there. Music, however, is absent.

Eight is standing by one of the far back shelves, examining a booklet of some kind and thumbing through it thoughtfully. You step toward him, curious.

“Not playing today?” You didn’t mean to make it sound desperate, but worry right after the words leave your mouth that it is desperate. Luckily, Eight doesn’t much point anything out.

He doesn’t bother facing you, but his head just slightly turns so that he can see you behind him. Once he realizes it’s you, he turns back to his booklet.

“Looking for something the girls can play,” he relays. “They were doing quite well before what happened. And gradually getting better each day now that we’re back on schedule.”

“Schedule,” you scoff. “I certainly don’t know what that is down here.”

“A schedule is what keeps us productive. It doesn’t have to be time-based. It’s a mere itemized list of activities,” Eight expresses as he turns a page. “Though, I suppose if I had some idea of time down here, I might have gone insane long ago.”

“You and Cyrus both,” you say with a frown. You take your place at Eight’s side and examine the shelves, now stocked with replacement parts and workbooks and music sheets. Mindlessly, you pluck at some metal piece that you’re sure has been seen on the top portions of string instruments to tune the strings. “But I guess we’d all go a little crazy being made aware of that kind of thing.”

“Two especially seems quite out of it,” Eight gets right to business, though he continues to look over sheets with songs on them. His words only make you tense up. “I assume the day we all had a lapse in memory and couldn’t recall just how we got to bed, something happened.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you refuse him.

“You don’t have to explain it,” Eight assures, turning his head slightly to look your way now. “But there is something.”

Nonetheless, you remain irked. “Do you always have to pry? Honestly. Fine, I knew you knew something was up when you told me what you did the day after. About the library. I just didn’t think you’d outright ask me about it.”

“I don’t ‘pry’ to stroke my ego about how good of a detective I am,” Eight lowers a brow. “I’m attentive about a lot of things, but I’m no Einstein like everyone seems to think I am. No Sherlock either. You just make it easy by looking so glum. Put him looking the same way next to you, and you can easily put two and two together. Or Two and Ten, in this case.”

You remain confused. “Sherlock who?”

This annoys Eight, but he shoves the topic aside. “Look, I’m not here to bug you about it. You came to me.”

You frown. “I wanted to hear music. I’ve been, um, missing it lately.”

This makes Eight go still, and his green eyes stare right past the pages he’s examining. “I missed it dearly myself. Playing has soothed a few of my recent woes, just not all.”

“Your violin doing okay for you?”

“It suffices. It wasn’t mine. But it is now.” Bothered, Eight closes the booklet and places it back on the shelf. “I noticed you’ve been in here a lot lately. You must be desperate to come seek me out, of all people. I remember the days when you used to avoid and criticize me. I admit, I miss being left alone sometimes.”

You pout, realizing he’s only joking in his weird way. “I was only trying to see what you were all doing. I never got to peep in on your lessons before. Didn’t even realize Nine was partaking sometimes. She never told me.”

“She gets flustered about showing off things she does if she isn’t good at them already,” Eight examines his friend. “She’s stubborn enough to try and show me up by actually attempting to practice, but I don’t think that’s her only motive. I suppose she would have liked to play for you, if she ever found out how.”

You blush and freeze up. “U-um, really?”

“Yes,” Eight huffs. “She is fond of you. She doesn’t say it aloud, but she makes that very clear with how she acts around you.”

Eight glances your way with an observant eye. “She really cares about you, huh?”

You frown, blushing. “I’m not having this conversation. But yes.”

“And Cyrus? I may have been lost in my music, but I did see you two holding hands recklessly in my sight.”

You roll your eyes around. “Well, yes. You don’t have to make it a big deal.”

“I don’t care what you do. I just care that you keep your obscene displays of affection away from me when I want to focus on my playing. Why am I always getting wrapped up in your lovey-dovey soirees?”

You scoff, realizing he’s only being sarcastic. “You’re a real geek, you know that? But fine, your highness, I won’t hold hands. For someone like you that’s tantamount to like, sex?”

“Yes, thank you for understanding.” Eight folds his arms.

“You really don’t know how to enjoy being a human being, do you?”

“I dabble in the human experience in other ways, simply,” is Eight’s casual answer. “I never said I hated the idea of warmth, I’m just not an exhibitionist like you.”

“An exhibitionist!” You cry out in an over-the-top way. “Now that’s going too far!”

Eight only chuckles at your overexaggerated remark, amused.

Despite the light jokes, you end up letting a melancholic state wash over you next as your mind runs on the topic. Your hand reaches out to deposit the little doodad you were holding back into its box, and you frown.

“Anyway, if I’m being honest, I don’t have the time to think about any of that right now. Not as much, I mean. With everything that goes on here, I have less and less opportunities to be so carefree with them.”

“And that hurts you?” Eight guesses, becoming serious again. You nod.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says to your solemn silence. “I’m not the most sentimental of people, but it’s not like I have no investment in your lives either. I do care, in my own way. Maybe it’s because I pry so much and lay out things so boldly that I’m seen as a rude person. But inquiry and commentary shows investment, does it not? Even when I wanted to avoid everyone, I kept prying and commenting on everything they did and said. I observed everyone’s conversations because observation was all I had when I was in the same space as them.”

This, strangely, gets you to let out a very meager breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “You can’t tell me that when I feel like such shit. I can’t even enjoy you admitting you have feelings.”

“Good, because I hate getting overemotional,” Eight comments dryly. “I have no idea what you may have gone through recently, Ten, but you have my sympathy. Two as well, whenever he chooses to come to us about it. Something about his preference for male camaraderie makes it easier for him to talk to us, I find. But I’m sure we are not the only people he turns to.”

“Admittedly, I feel like I fuck up a lot when I try to give him advice,” you blush with embarrassment. “I’m not even the best with Three sometimes. Those twins are on another level.”

You both hear the doors of the music room open, but don’t yet acknowledge it. Eight tries to wrap up his commentary nonetheless.

“They’re difficult,” he says. “For as carefree as they can be, I find they’re equally as stubborn in other areas. What they need is to come together again and find a compromise, as hard as it’s been for them to find one. No good comes from conflict.”

Finally, he and you both turn to face whoever has entered, only to find that it’s not anyone you were hoping to see.

Upon glimpsing Twelve’s tan clothes and bitter but tired face, Eight glowers.

“Speaking of.”

He steps forward just a hair ahead of you, not wanting to let Twelve get to you.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk,” Twelve insists, ignoring Eight and acknowledging only you. His emerald eyes are full of anger, but you don’t think it’s you he’s angry at. Something about how he struggles to stand still and keep a threatening posture only makes you understand he’s just angry about still having to put up with being rendered near useless.

“I…” You don’t know how to respond, but then shake yourself out of it and become firm. “No. Just leave. Please. I don’t need your stress.”

“Einstein here’s the one who should leave. I need to have a private conversation with you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you clinging to everyone to avoid me.” Twelve again insists. But Eight refuses to budge.

“You can say anything to her with me around. What is it you’re intending, here?”

“I’m not gonna hurt her or something,” Twelve huffs. “I need to get something straight. Why the hell are you all defending her so much? Can’t she fight her own damn battles?”

“We protect each other, not just her,” Eight does not let Twelve’s words irk him, though he remains on edge. “Now either I stay, or you go.”

He notices Twelve’s legs struggling to support his weight, and Eight does not hesitate to point it out.

“You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I feel like shit!” Twelve shoots back, furious. “Fuck you! I’ve been like this for days! My bitch of a doctor keeps beating my ass just to get herself off, my body and brain are getting soft because of all these drugs, and you expect me to play nice?!”

“Frankly, I don’t think anyone expects anything of you anymore.” Eight remains cold. “You’ve shown us just how little you deserve our respect.”

Twelve lets out a frustrated groan and leans against the end of the L-shaped cabinet, on his shoulder.

“Fine, fucking asshole,” he gives up with how woozy he feels.

Worried, you ask, “Do you, um, need help?”

This only angers Twelve, who lashes out at you. “I don’t need shit from you. I’m not helpless.”

“You’re certainly not capable,” Eight remarks with a bitter frown. “You’ve fallen so far, it’s almost laughable. Best of all is that you did this to yourself.”

“You’re lucky I can’t focus on anything right now,” Twelve mutters. “When I get out of these cuffs-“

“If.” Eight remains adamant, but so does Twelve.

“When. I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Whatever you do can’t possibly compare to Lilah’s wrath,” Eight dismisses his threat. “I’ve been incapacitated for days because of her. She’s put me through hell and laughed about it. Denied me any semblance of comfort or care. Left me to fend for myself. Do you really want to be the same? Do you really have the energy?”

This takes Twelve aback, and he becomes bitter. “I’m not like her.”

Eight scoffs. “Then you’re as blind as you are stupid. You were already an asshole before you came here, I bet. Your bold tendencies are probably why Lilah took you in, because she was sure as hell getting tired of me. But it doesn’t take a brainiac to see just how much of an impact she’s having on you on top of whatever you already came here dealing with. You take your frustrations out on the world around you because you can’t bear to cope with it. Everything pisses you off because you don’t know what it’s like to be comfortable. You’re always on edge, because you never learned how not to be. But you don’t have to be.”

Twelve looks at the floor a moment, face scrunched up in anger. At first, you think he’s reflecting, but when his emerald eyes shift up, he is no less than his usual self.

“You done, asshole?”

“Oh no, I could insult you all day,” Eight responds cheekily. “Either way, you don’t get to talk to Ten until you mellow out. I don’t trust you when you say you’re incapable when I’ve watched you continue to cause messes and hurt others with your words.”

“You see me with my brain all scrambled because of the shit they’re giving me?!” Twelve demands, furious. “I admit it, okay? I’m fucking slipping. I can’t fucking think. So, I can’t fucking fight.”

“You’re choosing to let yourself be that way,” Eight denies this answer. “You’re afraid of Lilah. Of this place. You want out, but after everything that’s happened you’ve realized you don’t like the consequence that comes with fighting even if you have always been so adamant about rebelling. Being drugged up and bound is a hindrance, but I don’t doubt you’re also using it as a crutch. After the first time you came to us this way, you were still as stubborn as you ever were. But you’re getting worse, and you’re letting yourself play into that. Saying you’re weak because of what they did gives you a reason not to have to act. You get to blame all your drained energy on it alone. But I see through you.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Twelve bites back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

Regardless, Eight keeps pecking. You try to nudge at him to signal him to stop, but he doesn’t.

“You and I have borne some similar burdens because of Lilah,” he says. “And for as little as I like to look back on the past, I used to be just as big of an asshole as you. I refused to listen to anyone, to play along and smile or laugh, because I couldn’t understand why the hell anyone would be okay being here, even if they were only pretending to be. But I let my walls down just slightly, and it was enough to make me see how misguided I was.

“I found a family here that had been here all along, I just never once listened to them when they tried to reach out to me. And when I stopped letting myself refuse them, I realized just how much they meant to me. I cherish them. If you could only see just how valuable it is to cherish something instead of just hate it, you wouldn’t have to suffer so much. But the longer you fight against it and betray our trust, the less chances you are going to have to be accepted. To be saved.”

Twelve says nothing, looking on at Eight with the same furious glare. By the way his lips occasionally twitch, you gather that he wants to butt in with some harsh remark, but he doesn’t. And with his silence, Eight has the opportunity to dig deeper at the young man, regardless of whether or not it’s a good idea to.

“You must have had someone who loved and needed you, Twelve,” he remarks. “I refuse to believe you were completely abandoned by the world the way you think you have been. The way you look at Three, the way she halts everything when you just want to destroy whatever’s in your path—there’s no way you don’t have someone important to you. And something about her reminds you of them, vaguely. You just can’t remember.”

Twelve’s face does not change. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I could hurt her if I wanted, just like any of you.”

“You won’t,” Eight states confidently. “Something won’t let you. And even if you decided to try just to prove that something wrong, I sure as fuck won’t let you. I may not be as strong as you, but I will put myself in the path of others if I have to. I used to be a punching bag too. I’m kind of used to it.”

“Eight,” you beg, clutching at his sleeve. “Stop.”

Twelve continues to say nothing, stewing in his anger quietly. When he eventually makes a decision to speak again, he does not acknowledge a single thing Eight said. Not even to fight it. All he does is look at you, and call out with a harsh voice.

“We gonna talk or what?”

His demand makes you uneasy, but Eight can see you’re still not sure just how to go about it.

“Truce or no dice, Twelve,” he answers in your stead. “You gonna behave?”

“Whatever,” Twelve spits. “Fine.”

He doesn’t move your way, instead sliding down the cabinet’s side until he’s seated on the floor. It’s almost pitiful how limp and weak he looks now.

You wonder if he took anything Eight said to heart, or if he’s just finding a way to refuse it entirely. You never really thought about some of the things he pointed out beyond just finding Twelve’s behaviors unusual. But I guess it would be Eight who’s so perceptive of others given he’s usually the observer. You admittedly feel stupid next to him.

In any case, it’s unusual to hear him speak so strongly in favor of your group. You’ve never heard him admit out loud that he loves you all so much, even if ‘love’ is not a word he used. He cherishes you. If not for your wariness of Twelve, you’d melt with happiness at having a guy like him finally admit something that important.

You want to tell him you’re happy that he was so open, but you know he’s fairly reserved about expressing his feelings that way. So, it’s not something you will bring up again. You just quietly thank him for sticking up for you and the others that way, and for showing how much he cares.

“You don’t have to protect me,” is what you say quietly instead. “Thank you, but-“

“We protect each other,” Eight denies your hesitance, keeping his voice low as well. “Especially now, we all have to pitch in to keep each other safe. This is just one way I chose to do it. But if you ask me, I really wish I didn’t have to. This is frankly exhausting and I don’t know how you all put up with it so often.”

And, just like that, the usual Eight-ness comes out and shatters all prior sentiments.

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter. But even if you’re bothered he covered up his feelings, you also are glad to know he still has them beneath his stubborn little façade.

Not wasting much more time, you and Eight both walk over to Twelve and take places near him, but definitely a few feet away so as to avoid any possible outbursts.

“You act like I’m contagious or something,” Twelve remarks with annoyance. “I’m not gonna do shit. Calm down already.”

“Last time you agreed to a truce, you didn’t exactly stick to it,” you remind him, scowling. “So we have no choice but to be cautious. What is it you wanted to talk to me about, anyway? Why have you been chasing me all this time?”

“Because I wanna know just what the fuck you were doing in the hall that day I got knocked out,” Twelve does not hold back, practically spitting out his words. “I remember feeling weird and worse than I already was. I knew they were drugging me because I’ve been on this shit so much that it’s hard not to know what it is. I figured they were up to something, so I tried to get out of there before I collapsed.”

Eight looks your way. “He saw you?”

Fuck. Obviously you can’t hide your having been awake now, but you still don’t have to tell anyone what happened or why. But if you’ve been caught in your silence about having been awake, you can’t exactly deny it, can you? You just don’t have to bring Two into it.

Just lie about it? Yes, that’s certainly a plan.

“He did,” you admit. “I was in one of the rooms and left to get food, but then I don’t remember what happened after that. Sorry. My memory tends to get fuzzy when I’m drugged.”

“Bullshit,” Twelve calls you out. “I may have been high as a kite, but I remember seeing you waving your hands around and making panicked noises. My vision was so fucked and I could barely hear you, but I know it was you. You were awake enough to panic, so I wanna know why. You keep telling me you’re not suspicious and then I keep seeing you and dealing with you for bullshit reasons. Why?!”

“I don’t have answers for you!” You shoot back, defensive. “Why are you so suspicious of me?!”

“When you see a person getting special treatment from the doctors and getting talked to more regularly, you can’t help but think the fucker is playing a part in something bigger,” is Twelve’s annoyed answer. “Plus you cozying up to your doctor was a shitty sight. Doesn’t help.”

He’s so fucking dense, holy shit.

“I told you how much of a hold he has on me,” You point out bitterly. “All you did was brush me off as if none of my experiences mattered. I don’t like cozying up to him, but sometimes it’s the best shot I have at getting through a night with him. And don’t act like I’m suspicious—I told you I’m a victim of all this like you.”

“So? I have no reason not to think you might be a problem” Twelve persists. “You’re kind of weird. Just tell me why the hell you were awake. It’s not that hard.”

You heave a hard, frustrated sigh. “I just have a little resistance to the drugs they use to knock us out. Sometimes it doesn’t affect me right away. Sometimes I wake up earlier than I should. It’s gotten me into a lot of trouble before. That’s all it is. And before you tell me that’s bullshit, I’ve overheard the doctors say that it’s not super unusual for that to happen sometimes. It just doesn’t happen often.”

Perhaps telling Twelve this as a means to get him off your back was a mistake. You underestimated just how inquisitive he could be, like you. It’s not something you ever thought about, but he is as stubborn in his desires to cause problems as he is to reason with why everything happens around him. He claims not to care about anything, yet he keeps trying to pry information out of you as if you have any that you can give him.

“So then what the fuck were you doing while you were awake?” He demands. “Why were you so panicked?”

You look away, brows scrunched up as you struggle to find a good answer. But you don’t know what the fuck to tell him, so you just don’t tell him anything.

“Some things can’t be said,” Eight reminds Twelve. “That happens here. Sometimes we endure things that we can’t talk about with anyone. Someone like Cyrus has a lot of things he’s probably seen and can’t relay. But he’s also open about a lot of other things. Either way, sometimes we have to accept that we’re not going to learn the truths that we want to.”

“I don’t care,” Twelve huffs. “If it gets me in trouble, so fucking what? I’m already in trouble.”

“I can’t tell you,” is your prompt refusal. When Twelve insists again, you clench your hand into a fist in frustration. But doing so gives you an idea, and reminds you of something you did with your hands a while back.

You point your index finger out and keep your thumb up. With your hand that way, you bring your finger straight up to the side of your head, eyes continuing to stare at the floor.

“I can’t tell you,” you repeat again. This, finally, is what gets Twelve to shut up. He looks at you with slightly wide eyes, realizing what you mean. Even Eight, for as much as he expects the worst of things, especially after having heard vaguely about the existence of Lucius a while ago, looks at you with concern.

Slowly, you drop your hand back down to your lap. “I’m sorry. If I could explain everything I’ve ever gone through, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

Twelve does not make a remark about the fact that you’ve admitted you’ve been threatened, nor does he ask more about what the hell that entails or why. Rather, he looks off to the side, muttering.

“So they’ve got guns here.”

“You thought I was kidding when I said they’ll kill you?!” You question angrily.

“I didn’t say that, you fucking idiot,” Twelve rolls his eyes. “Look, you know what that means? It means that someone could get a hold of those guns and use them. Someone who isn’t a doctor or a military guy or whatever the fuck they have here that isn’t us.”

This offends you. “You really, truly think that you have a single shot at getting your hands on that?! Are you fucking stupid?!”

“Yeah, I’m a real bozo!” Twelve spits back. “Shut up! I have ideas too, you cunt!”

“Shut up yourself,” Eight snaps. “She’s right. That is a stupid idea. If they have weapons, there is no way in hell they would ever let them out of their sights.”

You sigh. “Twelve, you know what we talked about the other day. What you figured out? Do you think it’s a good idea to be saying shit like that out loud?”

Twelve raises a brow. “What, the camera thing? Yeah, they’re watching us. So fucking what?”

He looks up at the ceiling and lets his lips widen in a wild grin.

“Hey assholes! I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna shoot you dead! You hear me?!”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Eight demands. “Do you wanna die?! I’d punch you but I might break my knuckles on that hard head of yours!”

Twelve only laughs. “Fuck you! They aren’t gonna take a threat like that seriously when I’m over here cuffed up. They just care that I don’t break anything they have to clean up, right?”

You realize Eight hasn’t once questioned the issue of cameras. Whether he knew or thought about it is not something you know, but it’s clear now that it’s something he was willing to accept as a possibility, even if he never said it aloud.

“You really don’t fucking understand what’s at stake here,” Eight shoots out. “Do you think death is a joke? Do you think they aren’t so petty they’ll remove you over things that seem minor? A guy like you once tore up some of the rooms in a fit of panic, and you know what happened? He got taken away. I don’t know what fucking reason they have for letting you live, but you better appreciate the fact that you’re still here. You’re lucky. Don’t waste your chances.”

Twelve laughs again. “Like you’re the kind of guy who cherishes life. I don’t give a shit about it and neither do you. If you really ‘understand’ what it’s like to be under that witch’s thumb, then you wouldn’t care about living.”

Eight shakes his head. “I don’t believe that we should be afraid to die when it’s an inevitability. But that doesn’t mean you need to throw life away just because you hate yourself. I sure as hell don’t know why I’m still alive, but I’m not about to let go of what I have just to prove a point or stick it to someone. I’m not that reckless.”

He then scowls when he sees Twelve lean back against the cabinet and avoid Eight’s eyes as if in dismission.

“Do you know what happens when you die, Twelve? They just get rid of your body. They toss you away, replace you. Nothing you will have done will have ever made an impact. To them, you’re just a thing. You’re not a person here. No autonomy. No rights. Most everything they let us do is for a reason. You think you’re a god for avoiding death so far? They let you live. But if you keep going down that destructive path, they won’t keep playing nice.”

Twelve scoffs, again brushing aside all of Eight’s words with an unrelated statement. “Why the hell are you trying to look out for me anyway? Don’t you hate me or something?”

“With every fiber of my being,” Eight affirms without skipping a beat. “You took away what was dear to me and showed no remorse for it. You broke an innocent girl’s heart by destroying everything she worked hard for, not once realizing how important it was to her and everyone here. You harassed and dismissed the traumatic experiences of my friend and injured several others. I fucking hate you. I’d let you drown if I could.”

Twelve leans his head back and looks down at Eight with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Nonetheless, Eight persists. “Don’t push me. I’m not trying to save you because I give a shit. Letting people drown is just not how we do things here. I know what I’d do. I’ve told you what I think and have offended others by expressing that. But I also hate the idea of forcing you further into your own self-destruction when this group has decided we’re not throwing you away just yet. I won’t betray them by going behind their backs like that.”

Twelve lowers a brow. “Uh-huh. You told me to kill myself.”

“Do it, then! Fuck you!” Eight snaps. “What the hell do you want, asshole?!”

“Damn you may be an Einstein, but you really are a fucking hypocrite,” Twelve can’t help but laugh at Eight’s expense. “I don’t give a shit if you care about me, or if anyone else does. Alright?”

“I don’t care about you.”

“Then stop giving me speeches, damn!” Twelve lashes out. “You’re more annoying than that ditzy blonde chick with the fat tits! At least what she says is brainless and easy to ignore. All you do is try to dig at me as if that’s gonna change me. What are you, the world’s worst drill sergeant?”

“Don’t insult my friends like that!” you chide him. “And don’t act like you’re so immortal. If you don’t change, you will die. You won’t even have the luxury of dying in a glorious way, or for a glorious reason. You’ll just get tossed aside for being too much trouble. Either that, or the copious druggings are gonna eventually stop your heart. A girl died here in her sleep, and the more I think about it, the less I doubt it’s because of drugs she was given. Another girl like her had a more ungraceful death and choked until she stopped breathing. So either you die that way, or you die because you were too stubborn to know when to fall back. Do you really want that?”

You don’t elaborate much more on the deaths, knowing now what you do about Penny. You won’t out yourself like that, but you do try to make it seem vaguely like a theory of yours. She died because of drugs. Of course it’s an easy buy.

Twelve glowers, but shifts his eyes away.

“That’s really how it was?” He asks, voice low. “Hm?”

You shake your head. “You don’t know the half of it. We gave you a quick rundown of things, but you don’t know everything in detail. There are things I could tell you that we all know now. But you just never took the time to listen.”

Twelve scoffs. “Then tell me now and get it out of the damn way. I’m sick of you saying I don’t understand and then not telling me everything at once. We went over this last time.”

“I’m not telling you unless you promise not to laugh it off like you did my venting about Yosuke.” You remain firm. “This is serious, Twelve. This isn’t funny anymore. Promise me.”

Twelve leans his head even further back against the shelf’s side and looks up at the ceiling. “Yeah, whatever. I promise.”

You try to be careful, telling Twelve every detail of your time here that is public information. You start off simple by going over theories you have all had about other groups, stuff that you know about the drugs you’re given and the workers you’ve seen. But then, it delves further into the personal.

You explain everything from your experiences with the doctors, to Cyrus’ grief, to the fall of the previous Numbers. Even Eight chimes in a few times to tell of his own experiences and everything he’s learned and witnessed, even stuff about the doctors.

Twelve avoids looking at you both the entire time, just staring up at the ceiling as if his head has emptied. But you can tell even if he makes it look like he doesn’t care or isn’t listening—he’s focused on the conversation. Something about how tense his face gets as he hears everything in detail where he chose to refuse it before, you can tell he’s hearing you.

“The dolls we made,” you tell him finally. “Those dolls all represented people we lost. Some of them are people we later Numbers never even got to meet, but we still wanted to honor their memory. It was akin to a graveyard, because it was all we had to remember them by. It used to just be random people, but it all started with Jade. Three couldn’t remember her friend’s face, and we made a doll with her so she could keep her close. And all you did was…”

You become frustrated, trailing off before you start to let the tensions wear away at your tear ducts. Your throat gets caught with a lump, and you try desperately to hold it down.

“It’s why we had such an adverse reaction to your bullshit,” Eight adds, voice calmer than before. “Not only was it all unwarranted and awful, but you were actively dismissing heaps of grief and trauma and misery that we fought hard to overcome. Both alone, and together. Never once did you listen, because you didn’t want to have to get invested. You were convinced you only had to look after yourself. Am I correct?”

“You already know the answer,” Twelve mutters. “I still don’t care about any of you. But I guess it sucks to suffer.”

“We’re all suffering,” you respond glumly. “You refused to see that. Just because we smile sometimes, doesn’t mean we aren’t miserable other times. And for someone like Cyrus…he’s always just barely holding himself above the water. He’s trying so hard not to drown. Now the twins are being hit with the same struggle after so long of brushing things aside just to force a smile, and they don’t know what to do. Even for me, it’s getting harder and harder to play pretend. Especially because so much shit has been happening to me for reasons sometimes out of my control.”

Twelve raises a brow, but still keeps his eyes up. “Sometimes?”

You bite your lip. Admitting this is only going to stroke Lucius’ ego if he’s watching you, but if it will get Twelve to listen, you’ll say it.

“Yeah, I’m as stupid as you are, Twelve,” you admit. “I make mistakes, I pry, and I ask questions I shouldn’t. I want to know more about this place, and sometimes go too far. I’ve been beaten, raped, tortured, and abused so often for things that are…well…”

“Your fault,” Twelve finally huffs out a brief laugh. You almost regret giving him something to latch on that isn’t his own woes, because now he drills into you without hesitation. “You’re really out here telling me I’m a fucking dumbass when you’re the dumbest ass of us all.”

Your face grows red with embarrassment and frustration, all at once. “I’m at least not out here trying to challenge the fucking men with guns to a dick contest while completely unarmed! Were you fucking dropped as an infant or something?!”

“Woah, harsh,” Twelve smirks, no longer holding on to his tense face. “Didn’t know you had it in you to be a bitch.”

“I’m not-!” You drop it before you get even more angry. “Fuck you! You promised not to make this a goddamn joke, Twelve!”

Twelve lowers his head back to its normal position, and rolls his eyes. “I’m not making your miseries a joke. I said it sucks, alright? Do you need more?”

“We want an apology for your shitty behavior. That would be a good start,” Eight demands. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You’re right,” you say bitterly. “None of us know you. And we certainly don’t know why you did what you did. You hurt all of us, Twelve. And you just don’t care.”

Twelve goes quiet, still avoiding looking at you and Eight. Upset, you continue.

“Did you really think you were going to change anything except our capacity to care about you by doing what you did?” You question him. “Did you think we were going to realize we were wrong to ‘accept’ being here and try to escape with you? Why attack us? Did you want us to spring into action so you wouldn’t have to be alone? Huh?”

“I did it for my own reasons,” is all Twelve answers with, voice low. “But it didn’t do shit. You all got your little toys back. Why do you care?”

“Because even though we have everything back, we’re all still in pain,” Eight tells him. “It seems you haven’t been looking closely around to realize just what impact you actually had. We’re not the same anymore, even if we’re trying to pick up the pieces you shattered everywhere. But when you break something, even if you piece it back together, there will still be cracks. And for some, it’s hard to bounce back. Three especially—you ruined her. And her brother can’t even save her alone anymore.”

Twelve pauses for a long time before answering. “I’m just a little fucked up, I don’t know. All of you are. Don’t think you’re better than me just because you don’t take action.”

“I choose not to be like you,” Eight retorts quickly. “I’m angry about this place, and about all the abuse I endure in it. If I had continued to be an asshole, I would have probably ended up like you.”

“I might respect you if you did,” Twelve laughs. But Eight remains serious.

“No, you wouldn’t. Because you barely respect yourself. Seeing another version of you would just make you hate yourself more. What exactly will it take for you to respect us? What exactly is it that you want?”

“Freedom,” is Twelve’s blunt response. Eight only frowns.

“Nobody can give that to you. And as pessimistic as it sounds, you can’t take it for yourself. Not here.”

“And would you be angry if I somehow made it out alone?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You say that as if you could.”

“You say that as if you care whether I die. Einstein told me to kill myself,” Twelve points out. “How do I know you don’t think the same of me? That you wouldn’t be happier if I was gone?”

You bite your lip. “You aren’t wrong to say we’d breathe easier without you. But it’s the principle of it. While you’re a pain, we don’t want you to die because we can’t stomach more losses. It’s not right for someone who’s a prisoner to this place to have to suffer, even if they themselves are insufferable. And the topic of death is a harsh one—so many people before us have lost their lives. Some voluntarily. Do you think we want that?”

When Twelve doesn’t respond, Eight speaks up instead. He looks over at Twelve, green eyes tense with focus. “Do you really, truly want to die, Twelve?”

After thinking on it for a while, Twelve gives a vague half-answer. “It is the ultimate freedom, yeah?”

You sigh, defeated. “Twelve, why-“

“Don’t call me that.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

“You fuckers get cute little pet names. The numbers are just shit we’re labeled, like lab rats or something. I fucking hate hearing you assholes say ‘Twelve’ with the same hatred as the doctors. So I might as well have one of your stupid little pet names too if we’re talking so nice like this.”

“What about this conversation gives the impression of ‘nice’, exactly?” Eight remains skeptical. “You do realize we hate you, right?”

“I have rights even as a huge asshole,” Twelve asserts. “That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?”

“It’s what we were telling you before you decided to ruin our lives,” you scoff. “Do you think you deserve your own name after that?”

“Look, I don’t give a shit if you continue to hate me. I don’t care about singing kumbaya with a bunch of freaks like you,” Twelve declares. “Just let me have the fucking name and go on with your lives, alright? What’s it matter to you? Besides, if you let me have another name, I’ll fuck off. For a while.”

“Forever,” you demand. “We won’t bother you if you don’t bother us. But even then, why should we trust you when you’ve gone back on your word before? And even if you chose a name, what the hell makes you think we’ll all unanimously honor it? There are people here who are mad at you. For good reasons. And those people won’t just up and accept you after what you did.”

“But you will?”

You groan, annoyed. “Will it get you off my back?”

Twelve raises a brow. “Not really. But it might Pavlov me out of the association I make between you and the doctors. Maybe then I’ll ignore you.”

“He actually knows something?” Eight seems mildly shocked.

Twelve pouts. “I’m not that not stupid. I mean, I read that in a book I kicked off the shelf the other day, but I’m not stupid.”

You don’t bother questioning how the fuck he read a book using his feet, and just remain skeptical. “Says the guy who keeps trying to escape, cries out threats to the people in charge, and keeps refusing opportunities to make healthy connections with people. You really are stupider than I am. And I don’t usually like to say that about myself out loud.”

You can already imagine Lucius having a field day watching all this. Getting to hear from your mouth just how fucking flawed you are.

Twelve turns his head away. “Whatever. I still don’t like you people. But I hate my number more. Don’t ask me why I want this. I don’t matter to you, so that shouldn’t either.”

“And exactly what name do you have in mind? Asshole?” Eight suggests with extreme disdain.

“I dunno,” says Twelve with a mild shrug. “You all have weird color names. Tanner I guess.”

“That’s a stupid name,” you retort skeptically. But Twelve simply scoffs.

“C’mon princess. Can’t be stupider than naming yourself Pickle like that freako.”

“Twelve, if you want me to accept your name, fine, whatever,” you put your foot down. “But I am not letting you get away with insulting my friends. And don’t call me princess anymore. I said I hate that name. People who have tormented me have used it against me. Don’t disrespect me and my trauma like that.”

“You can’t seriously be considering this,” Eight warns you. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot this shit needs board approval!” Twelve cries out, offended. “The fucking committee of friendship needs to debate whether or not I’m a person! My bad!”

You say nothing aside from giving a mild scoff of annoyance. You can’t say you disagree with Eight, though. Twelve deserves no sympathy, no care, nothing after what he did. But…

“It’s not right to fight hate with hate,” you suppose. “I’ve wanted to slap him twice. But I refused last time, because I know it’s not worth the trouble. He’s hurt me, but I’d be no better if I did the same back. I don’t like it. But if it doesn’t work out, then I can easily go back to the way it was and keep using his number.”

“Then don’t call me Einstein,” Eight demands of Twelve. “And maybe I’ll consider your name.”

Before Twelve can respond, you stop him. “No. That’s not all. We need to set boundaries. Letting you choose your name is a sign of our respect. So not only do you have to respect me and Eight that way, but we expect you to stop being a dick to us all without a reason. And being angry is not a good reason.”

Twelve huffs. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll ‘behave’.”

You frown. “If you go back on that, we will drop you like the trash you keep acting like. Don’t fuck it up.”

Twelve doesn’t say yes to this, but he doesn’t say no either. Nonetheless, you go on. “I also want you to apologize to the others. Not just a quick ‘sorry’ either. I want you to mean it.”

“Like they’ll actually listen to me,” Twelve shoots back. “You said yourself that some of them hate me.”

“Well that’s your fault, isn’t it?”

This makes Twelve groan.

“Since when the hell did you get a backbone, anyway?” He demands. “I liked you better when you were afraid of me. Now you sound like an angry bitch of a parent yelling at her kid.”

“I am afraid of you,” you remain blunt. “You terrify me. What you might do terrifies me! I shouldn’t even be willing to give you any more chances after you hurt me and my friends. After you destroyed so much. You ‘ve shown no reason for me to think you’re any better than the doctors, choking me like that, being cruel to us that way.

“But that’s just it— I’m just a bit more afraid of the doctors than you. And frankly, I’m tired of being afraid. If I have to be a jerk to you just to get you to listen, so be it. I won’t lose control because of you too. I don’t want to be afraid of coming to a place where I’m supposed to feel safer and far away from my troubles.”

Twelve goes quiet a moment after this statement, until he answers,

“I didn’t know, alright? Look, I’m too fucked up to fight about it right now.”

“Even if you didn’t know, what you did wasn’t right,” Eight butts in. “You have no leg to stand on, no viable excuse for what you have done since you got here. Even if trashing those rooms was to get us to fight for ourselves, it wasn’t right.”

“You were wrong to think it’d do anything good for us or you. It wasn’t okay,” you add. “Given everything, don’t be surprised if the others reject you. You broke our trust right off the bat. Don’t expect it to be easy to get it back.”

After thinking on it a moment, Twelve heaves a frustrated breath. “Hey girlie, you’re a pain in the ass.”

Strangely, Eight doesn’t make another bitter remark at Twelve’s expense. Instead, he folds his arms and leans back against the wall opposite to the young man.

“Tell me about it.”

---

It takes a lot of back and forth to get Twelve to somewhat commit to your rules. Expectedly, he fights you about having to admit faults in front of others despite agreeing casually previously. You aren’t sure whether or not he feels justified in what he did, but also don’t doubt that he would.

Still, you’re surprised he even bothered to have a mildly civil conversation with you. Aggressive, yes. Annoying, yes. But it’s more than he’s been able to do since he got here. His aggression hasn’t really quelled, merely been muddied and fogged up. He’s tired, and he’s angry that he’s tired. But he can’t really pick himself up anymore. Without the doctors choosing to let him go out without a single drug in his system, he is helpless. You’re just shocked he finally admitted it, somewhat.

You almost would feel bad if not for the outrageously infuriating personality he has. He’s done nothing but talk shit and undermine you and your friends since his last major outburst. In fact, when you keep thinking about it, you wonder just why it is you should even bother giving him another chance. You’re angry at him for choosing to brush your warnings aside, for treating everyone like shit, for laughing in your face about something so important to you. Why does he deserve this?

But you try to stick to your words that being cruel to him won’t be better. You want to believe that’s true. You want to stay strong and commit to kindness even when all you want is to drop Twelve utterly. Doing that, however, would only lend yourself to being compared to the doctors who have done the same.

You don’t want to be self-righteous about it. You could tell by the way Eight shot glares at Twelve that entire time that he didn’t want to either. The only reason he’s put his hatred slightly to the side for Twelve’s sake is because the others don’t all want the guy to get hurt. But if you had his capacity for forwardness, and the same empty desire for forgiveness, you’d be saying the same things against Twelve too.

Eight could care less about the safety of someone he sees as such a lowlife. Eight has no remorse for saying what he did to him. However, he refuses to succumb to the same cruelties as his aggressor. For a guy like Eight, whose mind was already made, to go back on his stubbornness just for the sake of others…you find that noble. Perhaps someone like Cyrus got to him, if it wasn’t just the rest of you.

The two of them have been spending a lot more time together, attempting to make sense of what they’ve been forced to endure since Mom took Eight under her wing. But maybe having to talk so deeply with someone like Cyrus is something Eight really needed. And even when he isn’t in the mood to deal with someone whose views are so opposite to him, at least he has Violet too. She may have her hang-ups, but she is the kind of person willing to commit herself to someone she cares deeply about. And while it went a terrible way with Cyrus, you’re glad it took a different turn with Eight.

The meager happiness all this sweetness brings you is not enough to overshadow the bitter taste left in your mouth after that conversation with Twelve, however. You remain on edge after that day, waiting for the next time that all the Numbers are together for Twelve to speak up about what you want him to.

“That should give you enough time to think about just what you want to say,” you told him before leaving that day. Twelve was less than pleased about it, but begrudged the deal nonetheless if only you agreed he didn’t have to give a whole speech about it.

Things go on as usual afterwards, though most moments of thoughtful quiet and frustrated agony over your fractured memories and all the pressing issues in your head are interrupted by Yosuke’s incessant coddling.

He keeps a close eye on you even long after Charlie’s death has passed, though you wish he’d give you space.

“Have you spoken with them?” He asks. “The new chef, I mean. Their meals certainly don’t seem different.”

“They are,” you mutter while poking tiredly at another breakfast dish. “I didn’t see it before. But now I do.”

You aren’t lying about that much. At first you couldn’t tell a difference between the two until Violet pointed out the bold flavor. For most plain dishes, it’s not so different. But now and then, you notice it’s just a bit stronger. Sometimes a tiny bit saltier. Sometimes more heavily spiced. It’s not Charlie’s, but it isn’t awful.

“Will you talk with them as you did that man?” Yosuke questions, watching you eat. He’s been letting you eat alone even a while after what happened, so long as you actually eat. You still have some reservations against the food at times, but after the first few force-feedings, you learned to just do it on your own and save yourself the trouble. It’s better than the setup you had before all this. The one you know you’ll have to go back to soon anyway.

Funny, you don’t fully remember when you told Yosuke about your communication with Charlie. In fact, you aren’t sure if you did at all. Perhaps it was something Gale mentioned after their talks with you, or else you told him once when completely out of it and forgot that you did. Not like it matters anymore.

You don’t really give an enthusiastic answer, only because you don’t have any idea whether or not you should. Yosuke’s question is a valid one, especially given that Two has to come to terms with this too. You both decided together that you’d eventually meet the new chef when ready, but you just don’t have a clue if Two ever will be. You’re slowly accepting meeting the new chef as a possibility and try to prime yourself for that, but Two has not yet observed a death like this. You’d anticipate he’d take longer to move on, but you won’t rush him.

“I don’t know,” is all you summarize this with. But it’s an answer Yosuke accepts despite his disappointment at your brief response. Nonetheless, he carries on like usual.

“Finish, and we’ll go.”

Today finally turns out to be a populated one. The rec room is busy again, as ever, but you find Twelve is hiding away elsewhere. Eight only glances your way in the midst of reading his book, giving a knowing glare and a subtle nod. Rather than leave you to hunt Twelve down alone, he slips away while others are in the middle of a conversation to go with you to find him.

“I’m not going,” Twelve refuses once you find the young man hidden away in the middle of one of the long rows in the theater. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, making it easier to see all of him since he isn’t hidden beneath the curled awning.

Twelve stares off at the stage emptily, but mainly does so to avoid looking at you and Eight. He remains with his knees up, upper body hunched slightly over. “Fuck that.”

“Don’t pretend you’re shy,” Eight scoffs.

“I’m not shy, you idiot!” Twelve spits. “Why do I have to apologize to them? What if I’m not sorry, huh?”

You frown. “You’re really disappointing.”

“That’s your fault for having expectations. But if I’m being honest, I just don’t know what the fuck you want me to do. Say ‘I’m sorry’?” Twelve bites back. “They’ll reject me. Either that or they’ll have a laugh that I even give a shit about the name thing. And then they’ll question why the hell you’re even allowing me a chance to explain myself. I don’t need to be the center of attention. I don’t do this shit for attention. I do it to make a point.”

“A very bad point,” Eight is forward. “And don’t be so self-centered, Twelve. Not everything revolves around you.”

“I said-!”

“I know what you said,” Eight refuses Twelve a chance to bark back. “But I also know people don’t always act out without a reason. Attention-seeking doesn’t have to be explicit or solely something vain. You wanted us to suffer to prove your point. You wanted our attention.”

“If you would stop reading me like a fucking book we might actually get along to some bare minimum degree,” Twelve shoots back. “And fuck you! Things seem to revolve a lot around your little friend here. I can assume shit revolves around me too when I haven’t gotten killed for something I apparently should have. And before she had to put up with it all, that fucker Cyrus did too, right? Obviously, something makes people like us special, yeah?”

Eight folds his arms and stares at the floor, thinking on it. “Yes. I suppose that’s true.”

You look his way, wondering why he didn’t fight against that line of thinking more since he was so clearly frustrated with Twelve. Now, it’s as if he’s changed his tone entirely. Something about his eyes is distant.

“Look, apologizing won’t change anything, especially not me,” Twelve’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “It’s pointless. I’m still gonna be an asshole to you. And even if I decided I wanted to play along just to get you off my back, you wouldn’t see me any other way. I don’t care if you suckered this guy into your little friendship circle. I’m not as weak to that crap as the rest of you.”

You huff in frustration. “Then why did you say-“

“Don’t bother, Ten,” Eight tries to dissuade you. “If he wants to keep his parade of dickery up he’s more than welcome. I knew this was a waste of time.”

This leaves Twelve bitter. “So you didn’t believe in me either. You fuckers think you’re so righteous and then pretend to put up with me just so you can indoctrinate me into your stupid cult of lies. The only reason I gave you a chance was because I was so drugged up I wasn’t thinking straight. Now you’re telling me you were just pretending? Real noble of you.”

“You’ve been drugged up before too,” Eight points out with a glare. “Don’t weasel your way out of admitting you might have wanted to reach out on your own.”

“And don’t tell us we’re hypocrites,” you refuse Twelve’s games. “We’re fed up with you. But our attempt to keep extending hands out despite our anger is not based on some lie. It’s a way of us saying we’re not giving up on you even despite everything you’ve done wrong. You just choose to see it as negative. Obviously you’re hurt and you just expect the world to abandon you. But even for as much as I hate you, I won’t abandon someone who’s a prisoner to this place like the rest of us. We have that in common no matter what you say.”

Twelve huffs, but says nothing. You, however, persist.

“An apology won’t undo everything. If you want us to trust you again, you have to earn that trust. Even if you barely speak, as long as you show you’re actually willing to change even a little, the others will eventually trust you. So either you get off your ass and try, or we let you drown. I’ll vouch for you if I have to. I’ll take the blame for wasting their time if it turns out to be a waste of time. Okay?”

When Twelve doesn’t respond, you try to think of what else to reach him with. Unsure of what, you call him again, firmly.

“Tanner?”

“We’ll see,” is all Twelve answers with after ignoring your use of his wanted name. He doesn’t look you in the eye once, staring off instead toward the stage.

“And you won’t break your promise? Like you did to Nine?”

“…I dunno.” Twelve’s voice sounds much quieter suddenly. Not bitter, not angry. Just quiet. It’s strange to hear him like this, but you try to keep standing your ground in the hope that the guy will back off for once. Even when others have fought against him, Twelve has always fought back.

“You realize why we might be worried?” Eight questions the young man, to which he responds with an annoyed,

“Yeah. No pressure or anything.”

Despite his bitterness toward Twelve, Eight tries to talk the person he despises down just an inkling.

“I never took you as hesitant about anything, but I guess looks can be deceiving. Either way, if you stop misbehaving, not only will we find ourselves able to confront you easier, but maybe Lilah will finally stop drugging you. You don’t have to give up your beliefs against this place. You just have to know how to strategically comply with it to cover your ass and avoid unnecessary suffering. You could easily be yourself again if you just fake nice for them.”

Strangely, Twelve lets out a condescending, but meager laugh. “You really think this was just Lilah’s work? You think their little sleeping drug is all they give me? That’s real cute, girlie. No, they’re rotting my brain with a lot more than just that.”

You look at him, confused, until it clicks for you just what Twelve means. The moment you realize it, you freeze and bring a hand loosely toward your neck, just barely grazing it.

“I didn’t know. I’m…sorry. I’ve had my own horrible brushes with him. He turns everything and everyone he touches completely rotten.”

Finally, Twelve’s eyes shift up to gaze at you, and he catches sight of the slight tremble in your hand as it hovers in place. He does not react, but he does keep staring at it.

“You’re really scared of him, eh?”

The bitterness in his voice is milder, but he’s grumbling and muttering his words even so. “I guess he’s a scary guy.”

You don’t explain yourself much, but summarize it all simply.

“There’s a lot to be scared of here.”

You’re all left silent for a moment. For once, Twelve has nothing to say in response. No snarky or infuriating remarks. He just looks at you with a straight face, then tiredly looks away toward the stage again.

Watching him makes you wonder just what the hell he’s thinking to suddenly be so docile. You refuse to believe you’re completely getting to him when he’s shown moments of refusing to accept that he struggles with his own head, but it’s obvious he’s mulling something over.

Rather than let him stew in it, you try to break the ice further.

“Before we go, can you explain something to me?”

Twelve doesn’t answer, so you keep going.

“Why do you react that way? When someone cries? When Three shows so much fear of you? All the things you’ve done, you’ve stopped on a dime because of something.”

Strangely, Twelve does not bite back about it despite always hating when the subject Is brought up. Instead, he ignores you completely.

Still desperate for an answer, you bring yourself down to the floor in front of him and kneel down to his level. Eight does not budge, but watches you carefully.

“I just want to understand,” is all you tell Twelve. “It worries me, Tanner.”

“It just strikes a nerve,” he mutters, still avoiding looking you in the eye even when you are right in front of him. “It hurts my head. Nothing more to it.”

You frown. “Then maybe what Eight said was true. You must have had someone in your life that affected you.”

“I’m always by myself,” Twelve mutters out, bitterness rising again. “I don’t act like the kind of fucker who has anyone else.”

His return to form only disappoints you and warrants a tired sigh. “Okay, well, fine. Believe it if you want to. But look, I struggle with my memory too. I want so desperately to understand who I used to be and why all these thoughts swirl in my head. I have to face so much and feel so much all without understanding why I see what I see or feel what I feel. And I doubt I’m the only one. So even if you refuse to listen to me, understand that I know what it’s like to feel lost. Aimless. Confused. Only difference is that you don’t like it, and you want everyone to know that. You react violently to confusion. To helplessness. Is that it?”

Twelve ignores you. “Look you’re obviously not gonna let this go, so are we going or what? I wanna get it over with.”

His refusal to acknowledge any reading of him is so frustrating that you want to scream. You spent all this time being wordy about something that matters and all you get is a brush-off?!

Annoyed, you stand up in a jiffy, huffing about it. Eight looks you over and gives a raise of his brow.

“Now you know how it feels.”

Twelve finally gives into your earlier demands and lets himself go with you to meet with the others. While you want to consider this a victory, you also know he’s only doing it to avoid talking more about his emotional and mental state. You sure as hell don’t expect a guy like that to be open, but wonder just how hard his head is and whether it’s enough to protect him from what you know is catastrophic to the mind.

Is it your business? Do you really care? Maybe you’re inclined to say “no” because he’s an asshole, but you’re already deep into this shit, you might as well see it through. And you suspect Eight’s on the same boat if he hasn’t already resorted to telling Twelve off and leaving the conversation altogether.

You rally all the other Numbers in the rec room, having to go to other rooms to get a few of the girls, and try to get them all to sit and listen to Twelve. Most of them seem confused as to what’s going on, but Lav, unfortunately, is bitter the way Eight was.

“I’ll go, but I won’t like it,” she tells you when you catch her in the gym, basketball perched against on her hip. “Ten, are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Not at all,” you groan. “But I’m gonna.”

“What a saint.” Lav can’t help but give a brief laugh at your response despite being annoyed about why you’re rallying her. “You don’t have to be a golden child all the time, you know.”

“Are you kidding?” You cry. “If I weren’t so stubborn about gluing everyone together like Cyrus, I’d be out there shitting on him just like you and Eight. I don’t forgive the guy for what he did at all. But I’m sick and tired of being on my toes everywhere I go. Maybe it’s selfish. I just want to be able to breathe again. And anyway, if he goes back on this, you have my blessing to kick his ass.”

Lav rolls her eyes around. “Well, I shouldn’t, buuut if you let me…”

“No, no! Just go!” You run behind her and shove Lav promptly toward the doors of the gym, trying not to let yourself give into the fantastical temptation of commanding someone to fight a threat for you. The ball falls off of Lav’s hip and bounces loudly on the floor as you push. “Out!”

“Okay, okay!”

Lav winds up sitting with the others on the rightmost couch once she arrives where you want her, while some remain seated before it and facing the rec room doors. Her face radiates disgruntlement even for as unbothered as it appears on the surface when Twelve finally emerges from the doors led by Eight. She folds her arms and leans back, doesn’t fight him or speak up just yet. She lets this play out, observing and careful.

Twelve does as you agreed—or, he tries to. He doesn’t sugarcoat his intentions or give some grand speech. In fact, he returns to his usual self and just rolls his eyes and mutters as he stands before everyone, guarded by Eight and you both.

“We did a little talking,” you say to the others. “And we’re trying something. Twelve wants us to hear him out, so please try to listen. Even if you’re mad!”

“You make it sound like I have something convoluted and preachy to say,” Twelve remarks in annoyance. “Look, fact of the matter is I don’t want to be called by my number anymore, alright? Don’t get all in a tizzy and start telling me to fuck off just yet. I’m gonna speak and you’re gonna listen, got it?”

“You’re not making this any better,” Eight leans slightly over and speaks low into Twelve’s ear. But naturally, the guy doesn’t give a fuck and keeps speaking to the silent crowd of Numbers before him.

“Don’t ask me why. Nobody has to know why,” he says firmly. “I’m fucked up right now and I’m annoyed at a lot, as I have the right to be. I’m only here because your little friends made me be, but I want you to call me Tanner. That’s it.”

You fold your arms, bothered that he didn’t open up with what he should have. “And the other part?”

Twelve sneers and looks ready to burst out with another fit again, but he attempts to harshly stifle it down.

“I’m sorry, okay? For what I did.”

“More sincere,” Eight presses quietly. This makes Twelve stomp his foot and turn to the young man at his side.

“Will you shut up?! I’m not some formal college asshole speaking at assembly here! It’s my apology that you’re holding me hostage for, so I’m gonna say it how I want!”

“You look like you don’t actually mean what you say,” Blue notes unhappily from the couch. “Yikes, guy. That’s like going up to a girl you broke up with and going ‘wow, sorry you’re such a huge bitch and we can’t work things out! Anyway, bye!’.”

“Weird analogy, but I agree,” Lav affirms, her displeased amber eyes refusing to leave Twelve’s face. “You’re not really convincing us of anything.”

Twelve turns his attention back to the crowd, furious.

“Look, I don’t even wanna be here, alright?!” He fumes. “Just call me what I want! I might back off if you do.”

“Apologize, then,” Lav challenges with a raise of her brow.

This makes Twelve snap. “I’m sorry you fuckers are so sensitive that you can’t understand what the hell I do and why. I’m sorry you don’t bother doing anything for yourselves aside from holding hands. I’m sorry you think I’m the worst of your problems because you’re too used to sucking these doctors off that they don’t even register anymore. God!”

Everyone eyes him with disdain, aside from Cyrus and Five who simply look disappointed, and Three, who gazes on at Twelve with the same fear she always does whenever he gets aggressive.

He’s hurt everyone here in some way. Bullying them, attacking their insecurities as well as their bodies, and breaking things that meant so much to them. Nobody has any reason to forgive him or listen to him. And, of course, you expected all this would go south. Maybe you were foolish to have ever suggested it or think it would go well.

Still, Twelve gazes on at Three alone, thinks for just a small moment, and huffs in annoyance.

“Look,” he adds with a much less furious tone. This time, he shifts his gaze elsewhere and avoids looking at anyone in particular. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m not into speeches so I’m not gonna stand here and give you a memo about why I’m sorry or what I feel. In my eyes, that doesn’t fucking matter. But I guess it sucks that you all have to suffer, and I guess what I did made it worse. But who cares? You got your toys back anyway.”

He's so close, yet so far. What a fucking idiot. You could tear your hair out right about now. But all you do is stand there and scan everyone’s faces in the hope that someone will understand what he’s trying, albeit really poorly, to do.

“The fact that we got the rooms fixed doesn’t change that you broke them to begin with,” Pickle calls out. “You hurt a lot of us.”

Twelve rolls his eyes. “Hey, it’s up to you whether you wanna forgive me, okay? I’m only doing what mommy and daddy here fought to make me do. I know you all hate me. I don’t expect anything less. All I want is my name.”

“It’s not a good name, sorry,” Six gives a playfully dismissive response, but is by no means as furious about Twelve being here as others. “Even Pickle is more credible than you.”

Twelve scrunches up his face. “What?”

The rest of the Numbers eye one another with confusion, aside from Lav who remains locked onto Twelve as if expecting him to do something bad. After a quiet contemplation, the jury reaches a verdict.

“I don’t believe that apology of yours all that much,” Blue is the first to speak. “But, like, whatever. If you wanna be called Tanner, that’s your business. Just don’t expect us to be all buddy-buddy, ‘kay? You’re a dick.”

“I know the importance of names,” Cyrus adds after quietly mulling it over. “’One’ is the name I only ever hear in the presence of doctors now. It’s a small comfort to have the name Cyrus used among friends. I wouldn’t rob you of that comfort even if you’ve been disappointing to so many of us. I forgive you for what you did, but that doesn’t mean everyone has to.”

“At least you acknowledge the shit you did had some impact,” Violet adds, folding her arms. She looks down, face scrunched up as if she’s trying hard to make herself believe these words and give Twelve what he wants. You hardly blame her. “I don’t think I’ll have a reason to call you that name anytime soon since I don’t want anything to do with you. But fine. I’ll make a footnote about it.”

You look on at the others, and one by one each of them adds their opinions. Five and Six give each other quiet glances before coming to a unanimous approval, if a begrudged one. Even Two and Pickle say it’s not worth drumming up more drama by refusing to use Twelve’s preferred name out of defiance or bitterness.

Three is someone who refuses to give her opinion in her fright of Twelve, refraining from a verbal response. She only nods in approval after a bit of gentle urges toward an answer by the others. You’re not so sure if she’s agreeing just because the others say they will, or if she genuinely wants to try. Either way, not once does she look back at Twelve, even when he lays his eyes on her in search of a more active kind of acknowledgement.

One by one, the others, if with extreme hesitation, agree to use Twelve’s wanted name. But they spare no expense at making fun of him for it, either. But while they’re able to crack jokes about it to his face, Lav is someone who remains embittered. When Twelve looks her over and asks,

“And what about you?”

Lav simply scrunches up her brows. Despite being silent most of the time, she finally opts to answer.

“You may mildly respect me because I’m willing to stand up to you, “ she says, “but I sure as hell don’t respect you. I don’t trust you, or whatever it is you’re trying to do now. But I know what it is to want to be called a specific name. It gives you a sense of power. That is about the only thing I will agree with you on.”

“I didn’t say that.” Twelve tilts his head. “You putting words in my mouth now?”

“You know that’s not it,” Lav responds harshly. “I just know that’s what you mean. Anyway, I don’t believe you’re actually sorry. But I will call you Tanner if you want. We’re a group, and it seems that’s what we’re deciding. But the moment you go back on any promise to behave, that ends. And not just that—if you give any of us any more trouble again to that degree, you will be tossed under the bus without a second thought. Am I clear?”

Twelve watches Lav closely as she speaks, until he has the chance to respond. He remains casual and puts on a show of being unbothered by her.

“Sure. Whatever you say, blondie.”

This doesn’t sit well with Lav, and she remains insistent. “Say it right.”

Twelve groans and sneers as if the mere request is physically repulsive to him. Regardless, he forces the correction.

“Whatever you say, Nine. Why do you even want to use your number, anyway?”

All eyes are on Lav now, though she hardly blinks in response even in her awareness of it. She keeps focused on Twelve the entire time.

“I take back from them what they take from me,” she says. “It’s just a strategy I prefer. I won’t let anyone break me. Much less you.”

Twelve mildly scoffs then, amused by her stubbornness. “Well. Seems like you and I have that in common.”

“Then why are you here in front of us, begging for a name?”

This leaves Twelve’s slightly piqued curiosity to fade entirely. He stays quiet, observing everyone’s faces, watching how they all look at him worriedly as if he might snap at any moment, even though they agreed to use the name he asked for.

“Maybe I’m not myself lately,” he tells her. “But I wouldn’t go questioning a good thing. You want me docile, you got me docile. The doctors made sure of that. Enjoy it while it lasts, because the day that I can stand on my own two feet and not feel like I’m about to pass out is the day I’m going to become a problem again. And it’s up to you whether I’m going to be yours, or theirs.”

He watches everyone’s worried faces, observing how hesitant they are in his presence. For once, the power he has over them doesn’t tickle him whatsoever, nor leave him smug. Rather, the young man stands there, glaring with a furrowed brow, as if the sight displeases him. When his emerald eyes land again on Three, he finally speaks again.

“I’m not taking any questions about why I’m here. This agreement we have doesn’t mean we’re friends, or that we’re going to be seeing more of each other,” he puts his foot down. “My name’s Tanner from now on. That’s all you need to know.”