Silent

50. I'm sorry

Morning dawned; a path of light ran across the room from the gap between the curtains. Michael stared numbly at the source of light. He blinked once, twice, a steady ache consuming his existence. His chest rose and fell; he was alive, but what an odd existence it was.

His hand was shackled to the railing of the bed, and he existed only so that the monsters could devour his body a little longer. He existed, waiting for the death they would eventually surrender him to unless he found a way to escape.

The beddings had been changed. It was clean, and the stench of the crimes of the previous night no longer violated his nostrils. He wasn't sure he had slept; he wasn't sure how much time had passed. He ached all over, but he was alive. The pain reminded him of being alive. And then his stomach growled, reminding him of these simple things that staying alive required.

This was hell. He had been here before, but now it looked and felt different. Ricky delayed his suffering, playing with him for the one last time. He had recognized one of the men as one who had visited the restaurant a week earlier, asking what dish he would recommend. The man had seemed so polite and harmless, left him with a generous tip, and...all the while he had just operated as a scout for Ricky. Michael had thought he would have learned to identify the monsters, but they were too cunning at times.

He didn't know if he had enough strength to fight. How on earth would he even have the chance to try an escape if they kept him shackled like this? His mood kept shifting. The fact that Jean was involved in this, working with Ricky, seemed to crush him every time he thought of it.

Everything that had been done to him the previous night and earlier.... And Jean... He could never have believed, not even in those weak, dark moments of Jean, in those bursts of violence and jealousy. This revenge planned with Ricky... It felt too cruel and cold. Insensitive. Jean knew what Ricky was!

And Ricky's words kept repeating in his mind: 'We also took care of Jean's ex-boyfriend together.' It was one of many things he had never learned from Jean's past. The man had been silent about the details of his youth. Jean rarely talked about his family even though Michael had tried to ask. "They're not worth remembering," Jean had always stated when he had tried to ask.

The noise from the door startled him, it creaked open quietly. Michael felt his body tense, were they coming back already?

Jean stepped in, carrying a breakfast tray. Michael frowned, watching the man quietly as he closed the door behind him. He scanned the room, knowing Ricky, there had to be a camera hidden somewhere.

Jean closed the door behind him, walked to the window, and lowered the tray on the table before he opened the curtains to allow more light into the room. He then turned in Michael's direction and seemed to startle slightly when their eyes met.

The flash of insecurity was quickly brushed off as Jean approached with determination. He leaned closer to him, "medicine," he merely whispered before kissing him forcefully and Michael had no way to stop him.

The man forced a pill into his mouth with his tongue and grabbed his throat. The grip wasn't so tight that it would have felt suffocating yet it scared Michael.

"Just swallow it down.... It will numb the pain," Jean breathed close to his skin and licked his cheek. The man grinned and got up and went to get the tray from the table. Michael stared at him, still confused, angry, and scared at the same time. However, he decided to swallow the medicine given by Jean, there was that moment of indifference, would it matter if it took his life? Maybe it was the merciful way for this to end after all,