Tom stirred awake, body cracking and aching as he rolled over, facing his curtain-covered windows. His eyes slowly opened, staring at the curtains in a state of exhaustion. Everything hurt from the day before. Ribs, head, face, stomach, hands, and unfortunately, his heart still ached. He closed his eyes and replayed the events of stopping Arthur all over again.

Arthur's face was red as a stop sign and he was going to hit you. Your face turned to the side and scrunched, looking terrified but Tom and Mikey ran without a word and just stopped it. There was no thought process. Tom didn't think before doing it because he didn't have the time and quite frankly, he didn't care. Sure, he'll probably pay for it but even laying in bed with terrible aches it'll take a bottle of ibuprofen even ease a fraction of, he doesn't regret it. You were terrified and he's not gonna let Arthur hurt you. He just wishes you wouldn't have lied to him.

Tom opens his eyes again, noticing no sunlight coming through the bottom of the currents. Instead, he can hear the pelting the rain hitting his windows. He rubs his face with a sigh, remembering the night with you because the rain reminds him of you and in more than just what happened yesterday. It's rain because it's the first time he got to really sit down and talk with you. Rain usually sucks the hope out of people. It leaves them feeling sad and sometimes uncomfortable but all the rain did that night and right now is give Tom hope. Hope that maybe he's worth your time and you'll let him in.

He grabs his phone form the charger and unlocks it. He's met by a text message from you. It was sent last night after he'd already fallen asleep and there's an uncontrollable warmth that spreads through his chest.

"Thanks for tonight ya know pulling arthur away and shit and mikey told me what you said to arthur so thanks and im really sorry"

To say it was unexpected would be an understatement. Tom just didn't expect you to bother texting him despite the night before. You seem the kind of person to just let people do their thing. You've all but literally said those words. But, you texted him anyway because he deserved the thanks and Tom is kicking himself because there's no way you're using him. He's going to stay pissed about the lying and about the entire situation but that text and look of on your face when he caught you last night, it's enough. You looked at him like he was your hope in the pouring rain.

Tom scans the screen and allows himself to reply. It's simple and to the point because he needs a few more days until he's ready, really ready to talk to you. A few days won't hurt and he hopes you'll understand. Eye for an eye even. So, he sends his message and tosses the blankets away from him and places his feet on the floor.

The scent of scrambled eggs clouds Tom's nose as he enters the hallway and goes to the kitchen. Harrison is standing over the stove, making breakfast, Tom's stomach growling with the sight of the food. Tom walks over the island and takes a seat, Harrison glancing over his shoulder with a quirked brow.

"You alright, mate? Look a bit like death." Harrison chortles going back to his food, one of the few things he can cook without issues.

"I'm not wrong for being pissed, ya?" Tom asks bluntly.

Harrison turns back around and shrugs his shoulders. "Nah, think it's normal to be pissed but I think you should talk to herself, still."

"She talk to you?" Tom asks as Harrison turns around again.

Harrison pauses for a few beats. "Nope. Had to guess, she went home and her friends had her. Arthur seemed to scare her. Why?"

"She thanked me for it. I dunno."

Harrison turns the stove off, removing the small skillet and dumping half of the eggs onto a plate. "What'd you say?"

"Don't mention it." Tom says as Harrison hands him the plate of eggs and a fork.

"Alright," Harrison sighs in a bit of frustration before getting another plate down from the cabinet and turning to Tom. "Do you want to be pissed at her? Do you want to talk to her? What do you want to do?"

"What if this is just a persona and she's playing us?" Tom challenges.

"Nah," Harrison shakes his head. "Don't think so."

"You remember the first day we met her. She wasn't exactly pleasant." Tom argues.

"Don't care." Harrison defends. "I think that was a persona. The person she is with you, that's her if you ask me." Tom shoves a forkful of food into his mouth with Harrison words, unsure if he should believe Harrison or not. Harrison wants Tom to be happy. He wants everyone to just get along. He wants what's absolutely best for Tom but Tom fears maybe that's left Harrison a little gullible. "Don't believe me, that's on you."

"I trusted you both and–"

"Fuck's sake." Harrison groans. "You know I'd have told you about everything if I thought you needed to know. Why didn't you tell me Arthur's been burning you?"

Harrison immediately freezes as does Tom. Harrison wasn't supposed to tell him that. Of course, he's not blind and he did see the burns on Tom's back and he had planned to play it off and ask about them today. But, the events of last night happened and Harrison wasn't thinking. What's said between you and Harrison stays between you and Harrison but that's just been broken and Harrison doesn't know how he's going to get himself out of that one.

"What'd you say?" Tom asks him as if giving Harrison a chance to rephrase his wording.

The only person Tom has told is you and only because you saw. For Harrison to know, it's easy for Tom to know you're the one that said something. Arthur wouldn't and he thought you wouldn't either but you're clearly full of surprises. Harrison could have guessed it was Arthur because who else would be burning Tom? But, by the look on Harrison's face, Tom knows there's not a single question in Harrison's mind and he just knows. Harrison knows it's Arthur and Tom is livid.

Harrison goes back to his plate, pouring his eggs onto the glass. "I, right," Harrison mutters. "Um, yeah." He turns back around, plate in hand, fork in the other. "Why didn't you tell me?" There's no undoing it. He can't unring the bell.

"How do you know it's Arthur?" Tom's eyes are narrowed and he's asking to see if Harrison is going to lie to him or just spit it out.

Harrison purses his lips and shrugs a single shoulder. "She was worried, alright?" It kills Harrison a little to tell him. He's not one to go back on his word.

"Oh," Tom slams his fork down, a dry chuckle coming from his throat. "So, y/n wants shit to stay between people when it's convenient for her but when it's other people, she can't be assed?"

"She didn't know what to do, Tom." Harrison rolls his eyes, finding Tom's outbursts a little theatrical. "She gives a shit about you and for the life of me, I don't fuckin' know why because you're not giving her the benefit of the doubt and you should."

Tom can feel the anger bubbling and boiling through his veins. "That how you feel? Date her then. I don't fuckin' care anymore."

Tom picks his fork back up and Harrison just stares at him. "She told me because she's been planning on to get us out with Arthur. She's willing to risk her own life to save us. To save you. So, maybe you should care a little bit."

Ever since the fallout with Tom's family, he's quick to jump to not caring. He's quick to snap. His own family left him, betrayed him when he needed them. Sure, it was all his fault and he had it coming but family is supposed to stick with you, thick and thin. They didn't. Harrison did. So, Tom is willing to make an effort with people but when things get sticky, when they do something where he's going to get hurt, he runs. It's easier to run than get betrayed again and again and again. But, Tom needs to listen to Harrison.

"She what?" Tom asks, the anger leaving his face.

"You're not gonna like the plan she's thinking about but she's trying, alright? Yeah, she fucked up and I fucked up but you fucked up, too."

"What's she thinking?" Tom asks and there's no bitterness in his voice this time.

Harrison shakes his head. "I want her to tell you." Tom's face hardens once more and Harrison doesn't let him get a word in. "It'll be better coming from her because she can explain what she's thinking. I don't read minds."

"Fuck." Tom groans and he hates how he's reacting. "I'm being a dick, aren't I?" Harrison's words hit deep and Tom knows deep down he's right. It's just letting that sink in.

Harrison chuckles. "Just a bit." Harrison shoves some food into his mouth. "Can't blame you, though."

"'M sorry." Tom apologizes, going back to eating his food. "I'll, yeah I'll talk to her."

Tom doesn't have much choice but to talk to you, not right now. He does have to talk to you sooner rather later thanks to Arthur wanting Tom to get with you. But, Arthur has already ignited a spark and that spark is turning into a roaring fire that isn't going to be able to be extinguished with threats much longer. His fear of Arthur is wearing down so he'll talk to you when he feels he can hear you out the way you deserve.

Harrison nods allowing the conversation to die. To Harrison, it's better to quit why they're ahead. If he pushes anything else or states anything else, Tom will probably fly off again. Deep down, Harrison wants Tom to go talk to you now. And he wants Tom to tell you exactly why he's pissed because maybe if Tom gives you that, you'll give him your side. You might be able to make progress and Harrison knows Tom is more willing to talk so maybe his willingness will make you talk. Maybe.

Back at the diner, you're bussing a few tables, ignoring the pain in your ribs. When you got back to Mikey and Matty's, the two helped get you some ice and make sure you were comfortable in bed. They made sure you were okay but your mind always fell back to Tom because he didn't have to help and he did. Mikey can take Arthur but Tom helped and he helped you. So, you owed him a thank you and an apology. You owed him an apology anyway even though you figured he'd ignore you. You would ignore him if the situation were reversed.

"Y/n?" Sheryl pulls your attention towards the register, most of the diner fairly empty thanks to the robbery.

You walk over to her, container of dirty plates under your arm. "What's up?" You ask, shaking the thoughts of Tom away.

"Why don't you go home?" She offers and you just shake your head.

"Why?"

Sheryl looks you up and down with sympathy and she doesn't want to say it, but she needs to. "You come in looking worse every day. You're limping a little and you have some bruises that are cause for concern. Maybe you need to rest."

You have to remain composed. You can't let your anger or annoyance with Sheryl show. "Are you firing me?" You keep your voice flat.

Sheryl shakes her head. "No, but a few others have brought their concerns to my attention, a few customers even." Sheryl explains. "I think you need a few days to yourself."

It's so unfair. Everything you're doing is to keep you and Travis afloat but there always has to be something to come in and toss a cinderblock into your boat, trying to sink you. You can't afford to lose this job. It's just not in your cards.

"I need the money, Sheryl. I can't afford a few days off." You almost plead and you feel the tears of frustration and devastation behind your eyes.

"You still work at the gym. Maybe you can pick up a few extra shifts." Sheryl tries to reason but she doesn't get it. No one ever gets it.

"I can't. I'm pushing hours there as it is. The only reason I have what I do is because Maurice is an old friend, Mikey's friend. I need this money. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know things are hard right now, with everything with Travis, but maybe this will be good for you. I'm sorry, y/n but you need the week off to heal and get yourself together."

"The week?" Your eyes widen with heartbreak. "I had to scrape up everything I could find just for heating. Taking a week off? That's not going to do anything."

The bell chimes above the door and the two of you look to see Mikey and Matty coming in. You roll your eyes at their incredible timing.

"You take a week off or I have to let you go. I can't have my employees looking like they're in a fight club." Sheryl's voice turns stern and you know it's hopeless.

"Fine." You cave and rest the bin of dirty dishes on the counter. "I'll be back next week." You take off your apron and start for the back to grab your things.

You take a moment in the backroom to breathe. You need a second because if you don't, you will snap on Sheryl and you will get yourself fired. You just don't understand how people can be so cold when it comes to other people's financial problems. Of course, people have their own problems to worry about but this is different. You're the main provider and you have been for years now. Sheryl knows that and it just feels like you're being stabbed in the back over it. Without this job, the hours, you'll lose the house. You won't be able to help Travis. He has a small income and he has the checks from the government that come once a month, but it's not enough. It's never enough because why would the government care? It doesn't affect them. People only care when it affects them.

You clock out and walk to the front of the diner, paying no attention to the other employees or Sheryl. You walk right for the door, walking past Mikey and Matty knowing they'll follow you right out. The door swings open with the rage of your push against the glass. Mikey catches the door from swinging back and allows Matty to follow after you.

"What happened?" Matty asks.

"I get the fuckin' week off because I'm in a fuckin' fight club." You storm, your words coming out sarcastic and snarky.

"What?" Mikey keeps up with your pounding feet.

"Yeah, customers and co-workers were bringing up their concern or whatever." You grit your teeth, one hand putting air quotes around 'conern and the other hand tugging hard on the strap of your backpack. "It's fuckin' stupid! There's no fuckin' rule in that fuckin' handbook about this. I would know, I read it start to fuckin' finish three times and can recite the whole damn thing back to her. She's an inconsiderate bitch."

Matty's eyes widen and he knows you're dangerous when you're like this so he doesn't say a word. It's Mikey who does. "It's bad for business."

You turn on your heels almost too quick with the wet pavement from the rain earlier, Mikey running smack into you. "Really? You wanna fuckin' go there with me, Mike?" If you were in a cartoon, there would be smoke and steam flying right out of your ears.

"I told you this would happen but you didn't listen." Mikey argues.

"Mikey, don't." Matty whispers.

"Oh, no, Matty, let 'im finish. Go on about how you know so much, Mikey. Go on, give me the 'I told you so' speech." You gesture a hand out, waiting for the speech Mikey seems to be dying to tell you.

Mikey looks down to you and he's ready to fly off the handle with you. It's not so ridiculous you're asked to take a step back. If it were a one-time thing, yeah you could be pissed but you walk into work after every weekend looking worse. Your bruises start to heal and you come in with fresh ones. It's bad for business and small businesses need to keep up their appearance. If not, they'll go under. People will get the wrong idea. It's smart and Mikey warned you about losing your jobs if you kept fighting. You barely made it last year.

"I told you so." Mikey scoffs. "You barely kept your jobs last year and Rocket, you know the only reason Maurice kept you on two days a week is because I asked him to."

You shake your head and look to Matty. "Yeah," You look back to Mikey. "But you're my friend and you're supposed to understand but you don't." You turn back around and start walking.

Mikey looks to Matty who actually looks like he's ready to start telling Mikey off himself. "What?" Mikey asks.

"I'm just saying, you could be nicer. She's trying."

"I'm not saying she's not but–"

"No," Matty cuts him off. "You just want her to listen to you and she's not going to."

"I don't want her getting hurt." Mikey reasons.

"Oh, I know." Matty huffs. "I think the only person who doesn't see that is y/n but that's not an excuse for you to be a dick to her. She doesn't need an 'I told you so', she needs us to be there. If she loses this job, she's fucked. So shut the fuck up and be her fuckin' friend. Put yourself aside."

Matty doesn't even let Mikey try to argue. He just starts walking, you far ahead of them and Matty allowing it to stay that way. Knowing you, you'll end up going to your favorite place or you'll be finding a way to distract yourself. He knows you well enough to know that you need the time to yourself and he'll happily give it to you with his phone volume all the way up just in case you need him for something and Mikey should do the same. And he does.

Hours pass and you find yourself walking to the club. You've never been so happy you managed to pack everything with you for once. Extra clothes, water, gear, everything you could need. You'd already had plans when you got off work and figured you wouldn't have time to stop at home. Turns out, you just didn't feel like going home and wanted to be alone. You'd even still prefer to be alone but as you get closer to the club, Tom comes into view.

Your heart stops as your steps become slower, prolonging your walk. Should you talk to him? You read his text he sent that afternoon when he'd woken up but you didn't reply. Similar to what you prefer, you figured it was better to give him that space. But, now what do you do? It's rude of you to completely ignore him but what if he doesn't want anything to do with you right now? What if talking to him fucks everything up more than it already is? It's a lot to think about in the last two minutes of your walk.

Tom looks up from his phone and his eyes spot you, your eyes on your feet as you walk towards him. He doesn't want to talk to you right now. When he said he'd talk to you, he meant after the fight. Last night, he made a dumb mistake of almost losing. It wasn't a conscious mistake but there's a part of him that thinks his subconscious made him almost give up. Physical pain to outweigh the mental exhaustion and heartache of being betrayed. At least, maybe that's what happened or maybe Tom just wasn't in it and his opponent was better than him. No matter what happened in his fight last night, he just can't risk it happening again. But, similarly to you, he can't ignore you. That's a bit cruel given what Harrison told him.

You get closer and Tom's palms start to sweat, heart thumping in his chest. Your eyes meet his and the smallest, almost awkward smile comes to your face. Your face is bruised pretty bad and Tom wonders if you'll make it out of this round. With you getting closer, he noticed a small limp, probably from the hit you took to your ribs. He doens't look too great either but he's definitely better off than you are and it breaks him a little.

"Hey." You say, approaching him and hoping it's the right decision.

"Hey." Tom says and looks around at the neon lights illuminating the street.

You're both just silent. Neither of you knows what to say or even how to say what you want to say. You regret approaching him and Tom regrets just saying 'hey' and he regrets not just going inside and pretending he didn't see you. You weren't looking at him. He could have done that. Why didn't he just do that?

"Um," You push your hands into the pocket of your hoodie, eyes staring at your shoes. "Uh," You stutter and you don't know what you're doing. You don't do this. "Good luck tonight." You manage to say and look back up to Tom.

Tom's head tilts just barely before he nods. "Yeah, you, too." He mutters.

"Tom, I-"

Tom shakes his head. "I gotta go." He licks his lips and you don't try to continue, you give him an understanding look.

You let him walk away and there's a pain tugging at your heart. He looks at you differently now. There's no spark anymore. He just looks hurt and it's your fault. It hurts to see him look at you like that. You're terrified of people leaving. It's why you do what you do. It's why you push people away and maybe, maybe when Tom asked about your parents or about anything and you would have told him something, maybe he'd be willing to forgive you. Maybe he'd understand why you did it without you having to explain. If you would stop pushing people away, people who actually give a shit about you, you'd be okay.

"Y/n?" Matty is standing next to you, grabbing your attention and pulling you back to reality.

"Huh?" You look at him, shaking your head. "Sorry, zoned out." Confusion comes over you, wondering when him and Mikey even showed up.

"You alright, dude?" Matty asks.

"Always." You send him a faked reassured smile before looking to Mikey.

"I'm sorry I'm an asshole." Mikey says, eyes squinting with sincerity.

"You should be." You remark, leading the way to the side of the building.

"C'mon, for real. I'm sorry." Mikey jogs beside you.

"I know." You say. "And I'm saying that you should be."

"I just want what's best for you." Mikey reasons as Matty catches up on the other side of you.

"Mikey, you can't always protect me from everything and I don't need you to or want you to. Sometimes, I just want to yell about something and have it not to turn into some fuckin' lecture."

"Lesson learned." Mikey says with the shrug of his shoulders.

"Thanks." You say, bumping into him.

"Can I take your bag or is that too much?" Mikey muses.

"Here." You pull your backpack off your shoulder and shove into Mikey.

He blinks at you a few times before pulling the strap over his shoulder. "What the fuck do you have in here?"

"Couple of bricks, some rocks." You laugh while Mikey opens the door to the building.

"Wouldn't even surprise me." Mikey mutters.

The three of you make your way down the few stairs and into the basement of the building. You hate how familiar the building is. It's a reminder that you're stuck. You most likely will not get to see the ocean or the stars in the silence of the night. You'll likely always be stuck in the circle of needing money, not being able to gain enough traction to get yourself out.

It's like you're having to climb up a well. The rope is wet and the cinderblocks wrapping around you are slimy with muck. You get up a few feet, sometimes even a little close to the top, the edge being just out of reach, and then you fall. You'll always be stuck at the bottom of the well where there's no ocean and the stars don't shine. The basement is your reminder and it's more than disheartening, to say the least.

You get the room you're using for the night and take a seat in one of the chairs while Mikey shrugs your backpack off and rests it in front of you. You dig out your clothes and your gloves, followed by a water bottle. You stand up and motion your finger in a circle for Mikey to turn around.

"So," Matty starts as you hand him clothes so they don't have to go to the floor. "Saw you with Tom as we were walking up."

"Yeah?" You ask, swapping your pants out for shorts.

"How'd it go?" He asks with hesitance.

"It didn't." You say softly, pulling your hoodie over your head.

"What do you mean it didn't?" Matty takes your hoodie from you while you shed your shirt, leaving your sports bra for the fight.

"I mean, it didn't. I said hey, he said hey, and then he said he had to go." You take your clothes back from Matty.

Matty watches you walk back to the chair, putting your clothes back. Maybe he shouldn't have asked. "I'm telling you, he'll get over it."

You look up to Matty and shake your head. "Mikey, you can turn. How much time?" You drop the Tom conversation and Matty lets you. It's for the best right now.

"You got five minutes." Mikey checks the time on his phone as he relays it back to you.

You nod in response, grabbing your hand wraps. You wrap your hands and make sure everything feels right. By the time you're done, it's time for you to make your way out to the ring. Your gloves are in hand and Matty goes to his normal spot. You take a few breaths and prep yourself silently, pushing Tom out of your mind. You clear your head of everything besides the anger of having to take a week off. If you're going to have to deal with it, hell, you're going to use that anger to make sure you don't lose.

The night is similar to most nights. Tom watched you fight from his seat beside Arthur. He watched you take a few hits but despite the injuries you've already sustained, you pull out a win in the first round. There's a sense of unbelievability that comes over Tom as he watches because it's like watching a different person today compared to yesterday. Your hits are harder and faster than he's seen, especially last night. Your face scrunches with almost every hit you make, likely from sore muscles. Your fighting is what caught Tom's attention first and it's something that continues to pull him in.

The round ends and you're declared the winner, you glancing to Tom as you do after every match and Tom nods, giving you a gentle smile. It's not one that says forgiveness or anything close but it's relieved. He's relieved you're okay this match because if you had another one like the one the night before, Tom isn't sure he could follow that. There'd be a pull in his bones to make sure you're okay. He can't help it.

You exit the ring and Arthur is pulling Tom to his feet, ushering him to the hallway for him to get ready for his fight. Harrison can't help but roll his eyes at Arthur's actions but, again, not the time to start anything.

"You better win, got it?" Arthur threatens as they walk down the hallway.

"Got it." Tom mutters, the annoyance evident.

"I don't think you do." Arthur retorts. "Your performance last night was less than perfect and I believe you owe me a nice fight tonight."

"I owe you?" Tom raises a brow with snark in his voice.

"You don't think so?" Arthur questions.

Tom's brows furrow in confusion. "Not particularly."

Harrison bites the inside of his cheek to conceal the smirk that's coming to his face. Harrison is happy and proud Tom isn't letting Arthur scare him. Of course, he's worried about that but if Arthur can't scare him, he doesn't have any leverage anymore.

"You do." Arthur sneers, shoving Tom into the room that's deemed theirs for the night. "Get ready." Arthur demands, pushing Harrison into the room as well before shutting the door.

"You owe him?" Harrison chortles.

"Probably for telling him I wanted to punch him." Tom chuckles.

Harrison shakes his head but agrees. Maybe not the smartest choice of words but it wasn't a lie. Tom would give anything to punch Arthur in the face at this point and he just might when it's all over. But the comment maybe should have been held off for a little bit. Tom's sure it'll come back to bite him in the ass.

Tom gets ready and before he knows it, Arthur is pounding on the door for his match. The boys exit the room and head to the ring. Tom looks over his shoulder to your usual spot once he's in the ring. You're there, just as you were every other time. He doesn't know why you stay but you do. And he's happy you do. He nods your way and you nod back, a reassuring and delicate smile coming to your face.

Tom and his opponent take center ring and this guy is much bigger than Tom. The guy must be over six feet tall and two-hundred pounds. It's not going to be easy, not with Tom's still aching muscles and bones. But, Tom can tire this guy out even if that means losing the first round.

Which, he does.

Tom takes a few good hits and he ends up losing that round but none of the hits were major and all of them were just to get his opponent tired. Tom is quick and agile on his feet, it's how he fights when he knows the competition won't be easy. Tom is content with it because his opponent is in the opposite corner looking smug but breathing fairly heavy. But, that doesn't fly with Arthur.

Arthur knows Tom can beat this guy and it looked like Tom was intentionally losing which Arthur doesn't like. Tom is supposed to go out and win, try his hardest and win not whatever he's pulling tonight. It's not some game to Arthur and he'll be damned if Tom makes it out to be one. He's getting out of line and it's time Arthur put him in his place once more.

The next two rounds fly by with Tom taking the upper hand and winning. Pride fills his chest and he's happy he's not in excruciating pain this time. He's happy that he pushed you out of his head and fought. It felt like an overall good match, an ego boost he desperately needed. And it lifted a weight from his chest he didn't even realize was there. But the weight would soon be crushing him once more.

You locked eyes with him and smiled but you were heading for the exit as he was exiting the ring. If he wants to talk, he'll text you and he seems pretty okay. You don't want to crush the high that he's likely on with the win. So, you plan to just leave with your friends.

Arthur is waiting for Tom and Harrison by the hallway. His face is red and Tom doens't get it. He was told to win and that's what he did. He held up his end so what does Arthur have to be pissed about this time?

"What was that?" Arthur demands as he grips Tom in the space between his shoulder and neck, leading him down the hallway.

"I won?" Tom responds, trying to pull away from Arthur.

"The first round? You call that winning?" Arthur question with a huff.

"I won the match." Tom presses.

"After tossing away the first round. You don't pull that." Arthur warns, his grip tightening on Tom's skin while they approach the room that's theirs.

"Fine, won't happen again." Tom glares up at him.

"You're right, it won't." Arthur opens the door and shoves Tom inside, slamming the door before Harrison could come in.

Harrison grabs the doorknob only for it to be locked. Panic starts to take over his system. He didn't like the way Arthur gripped Tom or the look of pure sinister rage on Arthur's face but he laid back. He laid back because he figured the same thing Tom did. Tom won. What the hell could Arthur possibly be so pissed off about? But, now Harrison is banging on the door while he's hearing Tom yell at Arthur to get off of him.

"Shit, shit, shit." Harrison mumbles under his breath as he rams his shoulder against the door. The door doesn't budge and a painful scream that's without question Tom's hits Harrison's ears. "Let me in!" Harrison yells over Tom's scream.

Tom's scream starts to die down and Harrison rams his shoulder against the door again. He has an idea of what Arthur could be doing and he needs to get in that door, now. So, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

You feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your hoodie. You furrow your brows with Harrison's contact showing up.

"Yeah?" You answer allowing your confusion to show through.

"He's got Tom in a room and I can't get in. I need your help, please." Harrison's words are panicked and rushed and before you can even give him an answer, you hear Tom's horrific scream on the other end.

"I'm coming." You say, already pulling the phone from your ear.

You shrug your backpack off and dig through it, finding the pick you always carry on the off chance you get locked out of a house. Mikey and Matty watch your frantic state, both just waiting for her to explain.

"Arthur has Tom and Harrison can't get in the room. Make sure there's a car here when I come out of that building with him." You speak so fast the boys can barely understand what you're saying but luckily they do.

And they know that what's going on in that basement is anything but good. You have the scars to prove it. They remember hearing your screams and the initial pain. They know what Arthur does. So, they'll be right here with a car when you get back with Tom and Harrison.

You run into the building, ignoring your aching muscles, and make your way to the all too familiar hallway that reeks of dread. You see Harrison running his shoulder into the door. His voice is going hoarse from yelling and his face is pale as you approach. The second you reach the door, Tom's screams are heard and your stomach turns with the sound.

"Move." You mumble to Harrison as you crouch in front of the door handle, the lockpick in hand. You can hear Tom crying on the other side of the door and you've never been so happy you took Mikey's advice on carrying the lockpick.

"A lockpick?" Harrison asks, almost relieved you might actually have a way inside.

"Mikey's idea. I had a habit of forgetting my key." You barely explain and you hear the door unlock just as a wail comes from the door.

You turn the knob and shove the door open. You get to your feet as you and Harrison are met with the sight of Arthur having Tom pinned to the floor on his stomach and a round lighter, similar to the ones that used to be in cars, in hand and pressed to his back.

"Help." Tom croaks.