I've been laying here for hours, just staring at the ceiling with not a thought on my mind. The doctor crossed my vision once in a while, but only now I feel the pain creeping in slowly.

I had dissociated completely at some point. The pain had become so unbearable that I just… mentally spaced out. It was the only thing I could do. But now, after lying here for what feels like hours, my senses finally find their way back to me – for better or worse.

Thayer has long been gone, left me to rot with a mocking expression on his face and satisfaction in his eyes he went about his day as if nothing had happened. The only thing remaining was me, my hurt, and the doctor.

I wince as I feel the needle pushing through my flesh, but I have no strength left to move another muscle.

"Welcome back." I hear the doc's voice, and for the first time since Thayer had entered the room I close my eyes. I feel the heat rushing to my ears, I hear my own heartbeat loud and clear. I feel a lump in my throat and suddenly, I can't help but cry in silence. I held back for so long that I just can't anymore.

There is no fear, only pain, disgust, and the feeling of betrayal. Not just by the Shadow, but also by the doctor. He sat through the whole thing in silence, watching, observing, unmoved. And even now his movements feel calm, calculated, distant.

For the first time since they presented my mother's body in front of me, I wish for her warm embrace. The way she would hold me in the past, telling me that everything will be alright. Her words of encouragement, her uplifting smile, and the way she would shed tears silently while holding me close, feeling hurt herself because I felt hurt.

Back then I used to feel guilty, I never wanted her to cry, especially not because of me, but now… I wish someone would cry for me, hold me, feel for me, with the passion and empathy only a mother ever could.

But I'm alone in this world. There is no one crying for me. No one to tell me it will be alright – because it won't. It won't.

"I'm sorry…"

The calm voice of the doctor pierces through the emotions that slowly seem to consume me. Sorry… Sorry for "what?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats himself. I open my eyes and I don't even have the strength to wipe my tears – it wouldn't do shit anyways as the tears keep coming. I can't do anything about it.

"I know how you feel." For a second amidst this physical and mental pain I feel a burst of anger, "Do you now?" My voice breaks and my throat feels soar. Go figure. But I can't keep silent. Not now… Not ever.

He pauses – the needle between his fragile fingers – to lift his glowing eyes at me, looking at me. Despite my tears I can see his troubled expression. Or maybe that's wishful thinking.

"I know the hurt, Eon." How come we've met so many times, seen each other's bruises and cuts so many times, but never spoken? We knew and hence words seemed useless. What good is talking anyway? But right now… If it helps to feel less lonely, less forsaken, I'm willing to listen.

"I had to stay… See what damage he causes, keep an eye on your vitals… I wish I could have done something. But we both wouldn't be alive if I did."

I try to move but the moment my muscle tense up, I feel the cold hand of the doctor on my chest, gently reminding me of laying still.

"Don't move or the magic might break. The anesthesia does its work right now but it won't help much without it." How can he look so compassionate and yet sound so calm? Either his composure or his expression is fake, and I am not in the right mental state to analyze either.

"How bad is it?" I can't keep my voice up, but with Thayer and his anger gone, the room is eerily quiet. If it wasn't for the beat of my own heart still filling my ears, I'd fear hearing the needle piercing my skin.

"You're… alive. If nothing else…" With that said he returns to his work of stitching me back up. I feel it, my body knows what's happening and wants to react accordingly, but I feel too numb. At least I now know it's not my body shutting off, it's the medical magic and anesthesia.

"That's one way to put it, I guess." I can't help but huff loaded with self-irony. I'm alive. I fought so hard for this but right now – in this very moment – I don't want to be. I don't want to die I just… I don't want to exist. All I want is some peace and quiet, and no more hurt. A warm embrace, a soothing hum, without feeling anything.

"He… He knew what he did. Or else you'd be in a much worse state. He agonized you but he made sure to keep you alive. However, I'd much prefer to get you out of this house as fast as possible."

"And go where?" I whisper, it's the only way I can speak without my voice constantly breaking.

"I can take you to one of the shelters," he explains, but what good would that be?

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Thayer wouldn't let you."

"We don't have to tell him."

"How?"

"There's someone who can help."

"No." I suddenly feel anxious. I don't know why but my thoughts jump right to the Shadows and it sends a shiver down my spine. They put me into this agony… He put me into this agony. And there is not a doubt on my mind that I won't survive another encounter.

"Eon, if you stay here there's no telling what will happen."

"I…" The words get stuck in my throat. I know he's right, but at the same time I feel so, so exposed. I feel dread, I feel lost, I feel like there is nothing to make this hurt ever go away. I feel paralyzed.

"Shhh…" His voice is soft, but it's all I can hear or sense right now. The next thing I feel is his cold cheek on my forehead and one of the long, white strands tickles my face. But I don't mind. I feel this wave of frustration and relief at the same time as he tucks my head into a gentle embrace, burying his nose in my hair.

It's only now that I realize that, despite no active effort on my own, I still had held back my emotions. I had laid here, crying in silence, spiraling down, but with this sudden touch of compassion and empathy I just break. My walls finally collapse as my fingers find hold on the doctor's sleeves, holding onto this little bit of support.

He lets me cry and sob, all while holding me like fragile good. I never liked this way of being touched, I never liked being handled with care like I could break – I'm used to deal with roughness. It became easier for me to deal with.

It's an easy concept, really. If someone slaps me there is no lie, there is nothing to hide from me, nothing to gain. I don't particularly like it, but it is what it is: A clear signal – a signal I can deal with. But if someone's nice and comforting it's… It's anxiety-inducing. When will they turn their back on me? When will they stab me in the back? What do they want from me? Why are they being nice? What purpose does it serve?

But now… Now this is all I longed for. Someone to hold me, a gentle touch after all the pain, a tiny sanctuary. And I cling on to it as long as he'll let me.

"Let me help you, Eon."

"Why?" I can't bring myself to form my thoughts into words, I can't convey what I'm feeling, what I'm wondering about, but here's to hoping he understands.

"Because I've been there… Years ago. Lost and broken, unable to move, paralyzed in fear, fueled with anxiety. And unlike you I break easily… And if I don't do anything to help you, you'll soon be at a point of no return. At a point you will break easily too."

"Is it your sickness?" I don't know why I'm asking. I don't know anything. But maybe… Maybe conversation can help to calm me down again.

"You mean my affliction? Partially, yes."

"What is it?"

"I'm dying, I always have."

"Running out into the black fog to help others surely doesn't help…" I don't know where this kind of cynical words are coming from but they force me to focus, to regain my composure slowly but surely.

"No, it doesn't. But if I don't do it, who else will?"

I shrug, I have no answer. There are doctors in this city, but I don't know anyone like the doc himself. As far as I know, he doesn't even get paid for the work he does most of the time. He's just there, doing things, because he can and wants to.

I feel him blow air through his nose, causing a warm sensation on my skin with his nose still buried in my hair. Was this… amusement? Well, a sort of self-irony amusement, probably, but still. I never caught anything but a calm expression from him in the past.

"Thought so," he says. He's right, there's no answer to his question, and if no one else does his job that only leaves him. Meanwhile poor Miss Morell, Mr. Ockwell, and Ash are probably drowning in the work I can't attend to.

I sniff one last time and slowly raise my head – not that I could move much, but it's enough for the doctor to lift his head from my air and give me the space I need to look at him. I don't feel like my head is clear, my thoughts have been all over the place, and while I caught everything he said, my mind of got hung up on the most curious things. Like the doc's sickness… or as he calls it: Affliction.

It takes me a few seconds, but I finally find my way around, "who did you allude to?"

"You know." So this sudden gut feeling suffocating me in anxiety was right after all. Sometimes I hate myself for my intuition.

"I wouldn't be here without them."

He looks at me calmly, but there is a hint of confusion in his eyes as he lets go of me slowly, as if to make sure I won't just break down again. I… I feel this heat raising back up, but I try to push it down, enough to let go of the sleeves I had clung onto like I did when Thayer had his way with me.

I take a deep breath and flinch as I feel a sting in my stomach. Right… Anesthesia, medical magic, don't move too much. Got it. I exhale, pressing the air slowly out of my lungs to not make reckless movements.

"I fear you'll have to explain."

I know the Shadow holds the doc in high regards, or at least that's what he wanted me to believe… And maybe that's what he wants the doc to believe. What a beautifully spun web of deception. If I wasn't so done with life itself, I would admire his efforts.

"I met him in Betty's cage. The lock of the entrance was jammed when we tried to escape. We weren't just unlucky doc; we were locked in on purpose," my voice breaks and so do my words. But he's patient and gives me time to gather myself, "One of us – if not both – were meant to die that day."

He eyes me up and down, then he averts his gaze. He almost seems lost in thought, as if this little detail is shaking up everything he believed in. I know that feeling, I've been there just recently and don't blame him.

But then he shakes his head and looks back at me.

"That's… Never mind. I still need to get you out of here. As soon as possible. I can't carry you, and you can't – and definitely shouldn't – walk. If they use us, we can use them."

His calmness is back to what I'm used to, but what I am not used to is his way of calculated though process. I didn't expect him to face this whole revelation and what it could mean for people like us so callously. Then again… I never really bothered to think about the doc and how he survives in this city.

"I can't say I trust you."

"You don't have to, Eon. You only need to trust my abilities to stich you up again if need be."

"I don't know if I can."

"You will. We'll move at dusk."

And with that he is done talking, I can see it on his face, the expression of a doctor who won't accept any ifs and buts. It unsettles me. But what can I do? Nothing… Nothing at all and I feel this numbness creep back into my thoughts. This all-consuming darkness, the dissociation.

I'm bed ridden and broken. If nothing else, I can at least decide how I'll break further and I don't want it to be by Thayer's hand.