He was regaining consciousness slowly. Very slowly. His head hurt, he felt dizzy and nauseous, and there was a thick fog clouding his mind that made it hard to think. He hated that feeling. He wanted to lean back and wait until the fog lifted, but even without being able to think, he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he fought the fog. He needed his mind clear, he needed-…

Where the hell was he?!

Why was he laying on something soft? His hands and feet weren’t bound?!

He blinked his eyes open, and even though his vision was hazy, he could tell he was in the middle of a dimly lit room. Exposed.

Before the fog had lifted any further, he scrambled to get out of the center of the room, looking for cover.

He hadn’t gone far when he fell, dropping off something… a bed. Why had he been on a bed? He shook his head. Not important. There was a door, and a window. He stumbled towards the door, and then froze. Footsteps.

Before he knew what he was doing he was already stumbling towards the other side of the room. The window!

His hands fumbled looking for the handle before his eyes registered what was outside. Damn it. The window was three stories above the ground. Even if he’d been in his best condition a jump from this high up was risky. Weak how he was, he’d only get hurt, badly, and wouldn’t go far.

His heart was beating frantically and almost making it impossible to hear what was on the other side of the door. Where had the footsteps gone?! He forced his heart to beat slower, focusing on what was beyond the sound of his pulse.

There were still footsteps, but they weren’t too close to the door, and didn’t seem to come closer for the time being.

He tried to get his frantic heart and breathing to calm down further; panicking only made it harder to look out for danger. He needed to be able to hear properly!

Trying to calm himself, he focused on his surroundings. The room was of medium size, not small, but also not too big. Beside the bed he’d woken up on, there was a bedside table that held the lamp that was illuminating the room, a dresser with a mirror hanging above it stood in one corner, a closet on the wall opposite from the bed, a chair by the door, a desk in the corner by the window, and a few mostly empty bookshelves on the walls. A soft looking rug covered the hardwood floor under and around the bed, and the walls looked almost golden in the dim light; he assumed they must be beige, though.

It was a strange place for him to wake up in. It was so… clean, well kept. It looked… unthreatening… And he felt like he definitely didn’t belong here! He needed to get out!

Determined, he aimed to get back to the door, but after only two steps, his knees buckled, the world spun, the ground became uneven… and he found himself on the floor, on his hands and knees. Nausea welled up in him, and he tried to breathe through the wave. Just not throw up, please just not throw up… He hated being tranqued! It was always the same… and he could never prevent it.

Against his will, his empty stomach heaved, and soon bile burned his throat. Sweating, he put some distance between himself and the newly formed disgusting puddle on the floor. He closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths and calm his unamused stomach, but the stench that lingered in the room now didn’t help at all.

His eyes flew back open and panic rose when he could hear the footsteps again, getting louder this time as they were approaching the door.

Oh no! Oh no no no!! He was in trouble, he knew it. If he wouldn’t have been in trouble before, he would definitely be in trouble now that he had soiled the pristinely clean hardwood floor! What should he do?!

He looked around, looking for anything to at least try and hide the mess he’d made, but he couldn’t find anything. It was too late anyway.

The footsteps had stopped right behind the door. Anytime now-…

A knock sounded, softer than what he would have expected. And then the door opened.

Without thinking, he jumped forwards, ignoring his stomach’s protests, and tried to hide the mess with his body… which left him out in the open in the middle of the room again.

And then he was no longer alone in the room. A man stood in the doorway, holding a glass of water and looking for him, his gaze trailing from the bed to where he was crouching now.

There was nothing he wanted more than to run, hide somewhere, but… If he appeared threatening enough, there was a chance the man would leave him alone! There was a chance he wouldn’t come closer, and not find the mess, and he would be safe from trouble for a little bit longer.

He hissed threateningly despite how much it burned against his dry and chapped throat.

The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t back away.

So much for appearing threatening… He probably looked more pitiful than anything else, too. He wouldn’t even be able to scare a bird at this point, it was no wonder this man wasn’t impressed.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you… Uhm… I didn’t know what you would like to drink, and figured you must still feel queasy from the tranquilizer, so I just brought water. I hope that’s ok.”

The man’s voice sounded soft; nothing like what his scary appearance would lead to believe… he wouldn’t let himself be fooled by that, though!

Despite believing he was prepared, panic took over when the man suddenly took a step in his direction. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d jumped backwards, backing up into the far corner, putting as much distance as he possibly could between the man and himself… and revealed the mess he’d left on the floor.

He might have frozen on the outside, but inside he was shaking, terrified of what was to come.

The man had slowed down, looking surprised by his sudden reaction, and his eyes widened as he found what he’d been trying to hide.

“Oh… You were sick already… Are you feeling better now?”

What kind of game was he playing?! Why would he feel better after being sick on the floor?! Did he think he did that on purpose?! That he was desperate to be punished?!

He flinched when the man put the glass of water down on the chair next to the door and then stepped back.

“I’m just going to get something-…” the man mumbled under his breath, the last part of the sentence unintelligible, before leaving the room.

He thought he was about to faint. What was he getting? What was going to happen to him? If he had any more tears left to cry in his life, he probably would cry right now. He felt like it. But he couldn’t. He needed to stay alert. Maybe… He wasn’t tied down, maybe he could make a run for it… Slip past the man when he came back and make it outside…

Another wave of dizziness almost unbalanced him.

He wouldn’t make it outside. Even if he did, he wouldn’t make it far. He would be caught in no time. And he had no strength left to fight. All he could do was wait and take whatever was in store for him…

His heart beat in his throat when he could hear the man’s footsteps approaching once more, but he was a little confused by the items he was carrying.

There were towels, paper towels, a bucket, a dustpan, a spray bottle… What was the man up to?!

He put the bucket down and the towels next to the glass of water on the chair, and then stood back up.

“I just want to clean that up…” The man explained, indicating the mess.

He didn’t know if he should believe him, but when the man stepped closer, he hissed again. Damn, hissing really hurt! It made the man stop, though.

“I won’t come any closer than there. I’m not going to come near you, and I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to do anything to you; I promise!”

He narrowed his eyes on him. He couldn’t trust him! If the man was as close as the dirty spot on the floor, he was too close! He wouldn’t be able to run past him anymore, the man would easily be able to catch him!

Still, the man was not stopping, inching closer.

“Please let me clean that up. It must be a bad smell for you, too! It’ll be better when it’s gone and all clean again, don’t you think?” The man kept talking to him as he came closer, and he couldn’t help but growl at him. Growling didn’t sound as fierce as hissing, even less so since he was barely able to produce the sound with his chapped throat, but at least it didn’t hurt as bad as hissing.

The man got down on his knees as he came closer, and he was still talking. He didn’t hear what he was saying, though, since he got distracted by the man’s actions.

He was kneeling? While he was hissing and growling at him? That had to be a new level of stupid!

Even weak as he was he would be at a vantage point if the man was on his knees… or wouldn’t he? Was the man strong enough to be confident he didn’t need to fear him even if he was on his knees?

The man had reached the spot he’d been sick on, and while he didn’t leave him out of his eyes, he was indeed starting to clean the mess up with the paper towels and dustpan. He even sprayed the floor with whatever was in the bottle and polished it until there was no trace left of his earlier mishap. 

As soon as the man was done, he receded again, standing up and walking back to the door.

“See, all clean. That’s better now, right?” The man paused as if waiting for an answer, but didn’t get one. He didn’t seem too fazed by it and continued, though.

“If you need to be sick again, the bathroom is behind the next door on the left. In case you can’t make it in time, I brought this bucket… You can go and clean yourself up in the bathroom as well, I left you towels there. But you can also use these here for now, if you prefer that.”

He paused again, but again he got no reaction.

“Alright. I’m going to make dinner now. I know it’s late, but… We need to eat something anyway, right?”

This time the man didn’t wait for an answer, shrugging as he turned and left the room.

He waited until the footsteps definitely left down the hallway outside and he could hear noises that sounded like pots and pans clanking against each other and ceramic hitting a countertop.

Only then did some of the tenseness leave him.

What had that been just now?

The man hadn’t looked mad at him, even though he’d soiled the floor. He’d really just come and cleaned it up. And he’d brought him towels and water.

He flinched. He hated water… Looking at the tall glass, though, he found himself longing for it. He hadn’t been given anything to drink since they’d decided to kill him at the shelter the day before… They’d tranqued him and put him in that horribly cramped cage, and since then he hadn’t had a single drop while he waited for his executioner.

He shook his head, a shiver of cold dread running through him. How was he even still alive?!

He knew the so called vet had called and said he couldn’t make it the day before, busy with something else… But then…

Truth be told, he’d been semi delirious with hunger and thirst and fear most of the day, he didn’t remember much…

But then he did.

There had been that really scary guy… Tall, with broad shoulders, dressed all in black, and angry. He’d managed to intimidate the workers at the shelter… And he’d demanded they let him have him!

His heart sped up again. Had the scary man been able to get his wish? Was he at that man’s house right now?! Was that why he was still alive?!

He felt nauseous again, but forced himself forward until he reached the bucket. If he had to be sick again, he’d at least try not to push his luck and use the bucket he’d been given.

He kneeled next to it, trying to breathe through his nausea and maybe avoid being sick again. Thankfully, his stomach calmed down again, and he sat up, closing his eyes and still focusing on his breathing.

At the back of his memory, he thought he saw a pair of eyes. He didn’t know why, but that pair of eyes seemed important… They were dark, dark brown. And very cat-like… But they didn’t belong to a hybrid; they belonged to a human. And something about those eyes… They looked panicked! Panicked, angry, and most of all… worried?

He shook his head. It didn’t make sense… Why was he remembering those eyes? Whose were they? Why was that important?

It was more important to find out how he’d gotten here, and if the scary man at the shelter had anything to do with it. And if he had, where he was, and who the man who’d come and cleaned his mess had been-…

The eyes! They were the same!

The man at the shelter and the man here, their eyes looked the same!

No! They were the same! It was one and the same person!

He felt like he had to throw up again as panic rose inside him, and he clutched the bucket to him, closing his eyes forcefully. He was at the scary man’s house; that was the only explanation. But why, why had the scary man taken him here? And why did he look not that scary anymore?

Ok, it was hard to look really scary in sweatpants, an oversized baby blue jumper that covered half of the hands and with damp hair falling into the eyes…

He shook his head, dissipating those thoughts and regretting the movement immediately as the whole world around him spun again. He had to focus, though. Why was he here? Had the man said anything back at the shelter?

He tried hard to remember anything through his still foggy mind and hazy memory. He remembered voices… Two voices…

“Taekwoon-ssi… This isn’t a good idea…” The first voice had said. He didn’t know whose it was, though.

“But just killing him is?!”  That! That there was the scary man’s voice!

“… but if he’s feral…” He flinched as he remembered the words of the first man. He wasn’t feral! He was just tired of being in pain every single day of his life! All he wanted was to be left alone and not be in pain, and if he had to hurt others before they could hurt him… It wasn’t right, but it was the only way!

“You go and adopt whoever you want. I’m not leaving without him!” He remembered what the scary man had answered. He’d been so persistent not to leave him there… He didn’t want him to die. He had no idea why, but for some reason the man had refused to leave without him. He’d argued a lot. And been very angry.

And then…

He remembered how the shelter workers had come and surrounded the cage he was in. Oh, how he hated that cage! To be forced to lay low, to even bow before them because he couldn’t even sit up! And to be that helpless as they reached past the bars and rammed the injector with the tranquilizer into his flesh…

Unconsciously, his hand wandered to the still sore spot on his thigh where it had hit him…

And remembered when he had seen those eyes, with that look of panic, anger and worry in them.

“What are you doing to him?!” The man had shoved one of the workers out of the way and kneeled on the dirty floor, on eye level with him, holding his gaze as his went dark.

“What did you do to him?!” That was the last thing he remembered hearing. It almost sounded like he had cared…

He huffed. As if anyone had ever cared! Why would the angry man care?! He knew better than to delude himself with such wishful thinking!

He must have another reason why he got him out of there, one that made sense. He must have thought him useful for something, but he couldn’t fathom what; even less so since the workers at the shelter had taken great care not to let the man forget he was supposedly feral! Just what could that be??

He tried hard to think of a reason the angry man could want him for, but nothing came to his mind.

He was distracted soon enough, too, when he picked up a new smell. It was only faint still, but… it was delicious! He couldn’t identify what it was just that… it was something edible, and it was so delicious it made his stomach cramp with need, nausea forgotten for the time being.

He hadn’t been given anything to drink since the day before, but he hadn’t been given anything to eat for even longer… he had no idea for how long. They were always trying to make him do things at the shelter; go somewhere, clean something, carry something, talk to someone… And the way they’d found to make him do those things had been by taking away food from him. He would always reach a point where he was too hungry, too desperate, that he would do whatever they wanted him to just to get something to eat.

No one had wanted anything from him in a while though, and thus he hadn’t been given anything to eat in a while, either.

This smell now… it was torture. The worst kind of torture.

He whimpered and hid his face in the dirty sleeve of the threadbare jumper he was wearing. It stank, but at least it kept the smell of food away.

What had he done to deserve this? To be left without food and water just to be-…

But… he had water!

He lifted his head to look at the chair by the door, and yes, there was the glass of water the man had brought earlier! How could he have forgotten?!

Well, something about being scared for his life, his physical integrity, and his stomach turning itself inside out could have played a bit of a role in it, he reckoned.

Doing his best to keep himself from rushing and causing the nausea to rise again, he scooted over to the chair and reached for the glass.

If it could, he was sure his mouth would have watered at the prospect of having something to drink again! And still, he was careful, sniffing the water before he tried to drink any of it. It smelled normal. Just like water.

Well, that was at least something. Of course there could still be something in it that didn’t have a smell, but… Maybe there wasn’t. And to be honest, he was too desperate. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t keep himself from drinking any longer, emptying the glass with long gulps.

He hated water, yes, but right then, it felt like heaven. So refreshing, so pure, almost sweet compared to the vile taste that still lingered in his mouth… He was disappointed all of it was gone so fast. He wanted more… But it had to be enough for now.

Gingerly, he returned the glass to the chair, and it was then his gaze fell on the towels the man had left there as well.

To clean himself up…

He looked pretty bad, didn’t he… He didn’t have to see himself in the mirror to know that. He most likely looked disgusting. If he wasn’t so used to it already, he probably would feel disgusting, too. No, he did feel disgusting –used to it or not!

He reached out to touch the towels; the first one he touched, he recoiled from; it was wet! The other one, though, was dry. And soft. And fluffy. And it smelled so good!

He unfolded it, and tried to wipe the grime at least off his hands. It didn’t work too well… And it did barely anything against the smell… Reluctantly, he reached for the wet towel. As it unfolded, he found that the middle of it was still warm.

The man must have wet it with warm water before he’d brought it… He probably didn’t expect him to wait that long before he used them. Now most of it was cold, and cold and wet was a combination he really couldn’t stand. But also, wet cleaned much better than dry, and so he hurried to clean his face with the part that was still warm, and his hands as best he could with the rest. As soon as he was satisfied, he quickly dried himself with the other towel again, getting rid of the detested moisture.

As he was drying his hands, he noticed something on his wrists: the cuts and bruises there had been cleaned and tended to!

Now, he knew without a doubt that had definitely not been the work of anyone at the shelter! They would never bother with something like that!

Out of curiosity, he pulled the legs of his shredded jeans up; the bruises and cuts on his ankles had been treated as well, a hint of an antiseptic smell still lingering on them.

Had the angry man done that?

He found it hard to believe…

The not angry man from earlier, though… He could have done it…

He had to remind himself that they were one and the same person, even though he found it kind of hard to believe. And still… His wounds had been looked after while he’d been unconscious, that was a fact. And he had towels to clean himself, and was in a room with a bed; a real bed. A bed he’d been laying in when he’d woken up. Where someone had laid him down, and –as he found when he glanced at it again- covered him with blankets. Not carelessly thrown into the room, left to wake up whenever and see to himself when he did. It was a real room, too, furnished and everything. Not a cage. It was clean and dry and warm.

He covered his head with his arms.

It didn’t make sense.

Why was he here?

Why had he been put here?

He didn’t belong here. All this… This was not meant for him. It couldn’t be. It didn’t… it wasn’t fit for him. Or rather, he wasn’t fit for this!

He raked his hands down to cover his face, peeking out between his fingers and spotted the towels he’d just used.

They’d been white… Now, they weren’t white anymore. They were stained, probably beyond salvation. He’d stained them. He turned around, looking at the bed.

The sheets there had been white and beige. They were stained, too.

No, they weren’t meant for him; they couldn’t.

Feeling horrible, he scooted away from both the bed and the towels. He probably shouldn’t touch the walls, either… Nor the rug. Probably not even the floor, but he had no other option. Defeated, he curled in on himself on said floor.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep –he couldn’t let that happen!- but apparently he’d still had enough tranquilizer in his system to doze off. All he knew was that he was startled awake when a knock sounded on the door and the man from earlier opened it.

“Oh… were you laying on the floor? You don’t have to, you can sleep on the bed!”

No, he couldn’t.

He backed away from the man, until he was in the corner again.

“I made dinner, do you want to come out to eat?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t dare.

His whole body protested; he should answer! If that was what he had to do to get food, he should go with the man!

The man sighed.

“I thought so…” he mumbled, more to himself, before backing out and closing the door behind him.

He was an idiot. There had been the chance for food, and he’d let it go. He’d never been this long without food, and here he’d passed up the chance; the first one in ages, and the last one for who knew how long.

Would he even live until he got offered food again? He didn’t know. At this rate, probably not.

His legs gave in under him, and he sank to the floor. He didn’t hear the footsteps returning until they stopped in front of the door again and it opened once more. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, not willing to be surprised in such a disadvantageous position, but then an overwhelming scent hit him, almost blinding him, and it took all of his remaining strength not to dart forward and attack the man to get to the source of the smell: a tray carrying a plate full of food, and another tall glass of water.

“It’s just pasta, since it’s quick to make and your stomach must be tender, still. Try not to eat too fast, you might get sick again… I hope you’ll like it.”

The man put the tray down on the chair, taking the glass and towels that had been there without a comment, and left the room again.

He didn’t have the strength to wait much longer when he heard the man’s footsteps leave and darted across the room. He didn’t pay the man’s words any mind, scarfing down the food as fast as he could, forgetting to chew half of the time and washing it down with water when he feared it might get stuck. Who knew if he’d be granted the time to finish if he ate slowly? And who knew when he’d get the next meal after that?

He wasn’t risking it.

In no time, he’d cleared the plate and emptied the glass, and only then he noticed how close he’d been to the door the whole time and how little he’d paid attention to his surroundings. Fixing his mistake, he returned to the opposite side of the room again, taking care not to touch any of the furniture or walls when he sat down, but still sitting close enough for them to cover his back while he faced the direction of the door warily.

Soon, he would have dozed off again if it wasn’t for the fact that his stomach felt uncomfortably full. He was definitely not used to so much food at once anymore… Probably food at all, but definitely food at such a speed…

At least, he didn’t miss the man returning what must be hours later. Once again, he jumped up before the man reached the door, waiting tensely in the corner.

The man knocked, and opened the door a few seconds later. He was carrying a bundle of something in his arms.

“Uhm… If you want to change into something more comfortable, I brought you some clothes… They aren’t new, and they might be a bit big on you, but I promise they are clean!”

He didn’t react outwardly when the man stepped forward and put the bundle on the bed, but he tensed, ready to bolt if he came any closer. He didn’t, though, returning to the doorway, where he spotted the empty tray. A small smile danced on his lips as he did.

“Oh, you ate it all! Did you like it?”

Of course, he didn’t answer, and the man picked up the tray again.

“I’m going to get you more water…”

He didn’t bother relaxing as he waited for the man to return, and like he’d announced, he returned quickly, carrying a jug with water and a fresh cup.

“If you tell me what else you’d like to drink, I can get you something from the store tomorrow. I usually only drink water or coffee, so I don’t have anything else here right now…” He put the jug and cup down on the chair, and then stepped back. He hesitated before he left, though.

“I don’t even know your name yet… Will you tell me your name?”

He didn’t answer the man. And not even just because he didn’t want to or felt unable to. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able. He had no name.

“Hmm, maybe another time… My name is Taekwoon, by the way. And… I don’t know how much you remember from what happened at the shelter earlier, but… I want you to know that you’ll never need to fear anything from me. Ever. And I will protect you. I can promise you that much.”

If he’d waited for a response, he waited in vain.

In the end, he sighed, and straightened his back.

“Anyway… I’m going to sleep now. If you need anything, the door to my room is the one next to the bathroom. If you’re hungry, food is in the kitchen, at the end of the hallway… Good night…”

The man lingered for a second longer, and then turned away, closing the door behind him.

He heard him go into the bathroom, and the faint sound of water running. After a few minutes, he could tell he was leaving the room, and then entering another, a door closing. And then it was quiet. Really quiet.

He waited. He didn’t know how long he waited, but it felt long. He felt uncomfortable sitting with his still bloated feeling stomach, and too weak to stand. He didn’t dare lie down, though, for fear of falling asleep. After a long time, he deemed it a long enough wait, and finally got up, tiptoeing to the door without making a sound; one of the advantages of being part cat.

He opened the door as carefully as possible, and thankfully it didn’t make a sound. Outside, the hallway was still dimly lit. A light at the end of it was left burning, illuminating it enough.

He bit his lip; were he and the man the only ones in the apartment? If so, he was lucky, because he could clearly hear the man’s deep and steady breaths behind the door he’d said belonged to his room. He only hoped he was really the only other person in here, and there wasn’t someone else, still awake…

He couldn’t hear anything else though, and after listening intently for a while, he ventured out of the room… Holding his breath, he tested for creaking floorboards before every step he took as he made his way to the end of the hallway. The house seemed to be well kept, though, not a single one made even the slightest sound, and he made it safely to the end of the hallway and to a door he was sure could only be the front door.

There was an extra security bolt, a chain, and the regular lock, and the first two were secured. It took absolutely no effort to unlock them, though, and it only took time because he was taking care not to make a single sound. When he tried the handle, though, he had to hold back a frustrated scream!

It had been going so well! Too well, of course…

There must be a key here somewhere…! He looked around frantically, hoping to find one on the sideboard… the key hanger… the table top in the kitchen right next to the door… nothing.

He closed his eyes, biting back his frustration. Maybe the lock was just a bit jammed and he needed to press down harder… or lean against the door… or pull… or lift it a bit?

“It’s locked…” a soft voice sounded behind him, but the man might as well have yelled at him.

He jumped, only managing to turn around and face the man while pressing his back against the door before fear paralyzed him.

He was done for, he knew it. There was no way he’d get out of this situation unpunished. Maybe it would have been better had he gotten to stay at the shelter and been euthanized…

“I knew you’d try to make a run for it as soon as I was asleep… I can’t blame you. You have no reason to trust me, and to be honest, if I were you I’d probably do the same…” The man rubbed a hand over his sleep-tired face.

“Will you believe me when I tell you I’m not going to hurt you or do anything else to punish you?”

No, he wouldn’t believe the man. He couldn’t.

“Because I won’t. To be honest, if it was up to me, I would let you go. I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here.”

Then why was the door locked and he wasn’t letting him out?

“I don’t really have a choice, though. Have you noticed the collar you are wearing?”

Collar? What collar?!

Slowly, in an almost imperceptible movement, he lifted a hand to feel his neck. Damn. There was a collar.

“That collar has a GPS tracking chip. And it can only be removed with a five digits security code, which they didn’t give me at the shelter. They said because you were classified as feral, you would have to wear that collar for at least six months to a year. If you go out there, they will be able to track you down in no time, wherever you go. And if they find you outside without me… Since you already had a death sentence against you, I doubt they’ll even bother catching you alive. I’m sorry…”

He felt himself deflate against the door, barely managing to hold himself up as his hope left him.

Six months. He was stuck here for at least six months. All that time, he’d be left at that man’s mercy; he could do with him whatever he wanted, and he couldn’t even run away without running into certain death… Not as long as he wore the collar.

He needed to get rid of the collar!

A sigh from the other man caught his attention again.

“I really am sorry that I can’t just let you leave and be free. I swear that once the time is up and I get the code to get the collar off of you, you’ll be free to leave and do whatever you want. But for now… Please don’t do anything you won’t even have the time to regret.”

The man ran his hand over his face again, covering up a yawn.

“I’m going back to sleep… It’s been a long day. You should probably go and try the same…” He looked at him for a while longer, then, when he didn’t move or say anything, the man shrugged and turned his back on him, returning to his room.

He couldn’t believe it.

He hadn’t been punished. Despite trying to break out and flee.

But he’d found out he had a security collar on that he wouldn’t be able to take off without a five digit code. Five digits! The possibilities were endless with five digits, it would take him more than a year to try them all! But he could also be lucky and find the right combination within the first couple of tries…

Listening intently for movements from the other man, he started his way back to the room he’d been given when he couldn’t hear anything. He still darted past the man’s bedroom door as fast as he could, only relaxing to a degree when the other door shut behind him.

Once there, he made his way over to the mirror, flinching with disgust when he had to confront his own reflection.

How was the man even able to look at him without being sick instantly?!

He forced himself not to focus on his face, but on the collar around his neck. It was thin, and it felt metallic and light. It had acquired the warmth of his skin, so he didn’t feel it. If he didn’t hate what it meant so much, he would even admit it felt comfortable to wear.

At first, he couldn’t find neither a latch nor anywhere to dial a code, but on his second way around inspecting it closely, he found five tiny separate rings with numbers on them in the metal that could be twisted to arrange different patterns. If he could twist them into showing the right code… He would be free!

There might be more possible combinations than he could even fathom right now, but there was nothing he could do but start trying!

Despite the unlikeliness, he twisted the metal rings into the first code: 0-0-0-0-0.

Nothing happened. But he’d already expected that.

He twisted again, just one digit.

0-0-0-0-1.

Nothing.

Again.

0-0-0-0-2.

Nothing.

He went to try again, but just as his hand touched the collar, a searing pain shot through all of his body, starting on his neck where the collar touched skin, and lifted him off his feet. Without being able to control a single muscle his body twitched on the floor and he screamed.

It felt as if the pain lasted an eternity, even if it probably only lasted a few seconds. It didn’t matter that the collar didn’t send out any more shocks after a few seconds, as his whole body kept convulsing from the mere memory of the pain that seemed to be deeply ingrained in his muscles. And even after the shocks stopped, he still had no control over his muscles.

He was paralyzed, blinded, disoriented… defenseless.

Why, just why, hadn’t the shock been strong enough to kill him already? Everything had to be better than this!