The phone's there, all right. I must've dropped it when Walus had got him. 

The idiots.

The boy's out of his mind. He's completely gone. There was no threat at all, leaving him here. Dumping him there when the police found out was the best way to get rid of a weak link, and now they regret it, and now we're coming back.

But, honestly, this weak one couldn't do anything. He didn't know where he was. He doesn't know who we are. He doesn't know anything. It was safe, and it was the best way to get away clean and quick, to leave a messed up boy behind. 

We got away clean. We got away safe. But Walus still wants the boy.

He doesn't like to fail.

He has never failed before; he would hate to be beaten by just a boy, a boy as skinny as an uncooked noodle and about as strong.

So it's his big ego that's landed us here.

I've thought about leaving. But I know I wouldn't get anywhere. I'm not stupid; I know we're tied. Not physically, but mentally. He broke me, and I broke Kellar in response. It's a never-ending cycle, and maybe it's rough and unforgiving, but it's the way of the world. People change. People are hurt, and people hurt other people for it.

I can't explain this. I can't explain much, now. Except for pain.

Pain is necessary, a horrible necessity. But something that can make a dull life something else entirely. 

It can shatter some, and it can freeze others. Too much pain can make someone as hard as stone. Too little can make one spoiled as a porcelain doll.

It's my life, now.

Pain.

These people are my life.

These are my people, even if they are the worst of the worst. Even if they are twisted, inside and out. 

So?

I am too.

And some changes, the kind of changes I've been given and gave, are just not able to be fixed. 

Walus hopes the boy hasn't been changed back. Healed.

I know this, what we give, is irreversible. 

Or maybe it's just mine that cannot be pieced back to what it used to be.