NPOV

It was impossible to orient myself.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, making the details of the car ride nonexistent. A bag was over my head when was awake. I had no dreams. Blackness was everywhere - I couldn't separate realities.

After an uncertain amount of time, I came around for good. My head throbbed, it hurt to move, and my eyelids were so heavy that I didn't think I had the energy to open them.

I eventually proved myself wrong. Groggily, I took in different surroundings.

I wasn't in a car anymore. I had been moved into a large space, with hardwood floors and peeling wallpaper. It was obviously supposed to be a living room, but didn't look like a place people spent much time in. The furnishing was old-fashioned, adorned with ugly lace and too many frills. A single lamp in the corner allowed for dim lighting.

I only realized I was tied to a chair when I tried to move. 

Cords wrapped around my chest and both of my wrists. I started to struggle against them pathetically. I had no strength left.

I had nothing left.

Nothing.

But still, perhaps out of instinct, I pulled at the restraints. I got louder as I did so, breaths ragged and gasping. It was like I couldn't get enough air, like I was suffocating. My heart pounded against my ribcage, and my sobs were the only noise in the room. 

I was so terrified of what was coming next, because how could my life get any worse? I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to see my dad and Hazel. I just wanted to see Will again.

Will. Oh my god, Will. 

Deep down, I knew he was dead. Octavian killed him - probably taking his time with the torture. 

Did he beg for his life, or did he beg to be put out of his misery?

How long did the screaming last? 

Did he hate me, in the end?

The thoughts burned into my imagination. Images of Will. Pictures of his blood. Depictions of his suffering.

I deserved everything that was coming my way. I didn't pull the trigger, but I'm the reason he's gone. Ultimately, I'm responsible. 

I was sobbing and hyperventilating, clawing at the cords like they were the problem.

"Shhhh. They'll hear you." A voice whispered next to me.

I snapped my head in the direction, inhaling sharply. In seconds, the figure moved in front of me, so that I could see him better.

The boy had platinum blond hair, pale skin, and an extremely thin frame. Exhaustion claimed the area under his eyes. Purple discolored his jaw, and he moved with a slight sway, as if he could fall over any second.

His hands were raised, trying to show that he didn't have any weapons and he wasn't going to hurt me.

I didn't trust it. People might claim they aren't a threat, but that doesn't automatically make it true. Tears made a path for themselves down my face, and my breaths became even more labored as I pressed myself against the chair, in an attempt to move as far away from him as possible.

He crouched down, so that his face was level with mine. "Take deep breaths, okay? You have to calm down.... You don't want them to think you're weak, trust me."

"W-Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?" I whimpered.

"I can't explain everything right now." He craned his neck to check the area behind me. Looking anxious, he used the back of his own sleeve to roughly wipe my tears. "Lycaon's going to test you - don't let him see you cry. I wish I could say more, but time is running out and-"

"CLOVIS!" A voice snarled, making the boy and I jump. "What the hell are you doing?"

Clovis stumbled away from me, scared. He faltered for a second. "I-I-I was cleaning, sir."

Two other people entered my field of vision - Kronos and who I was assumed was Lycaon.

Lycaon had thick, black hair and a permanent sneer. Judging by the way he walked and the confidence in his stride, he seemed used to being in charge. An alpha.

He weirdly bared his teeth and crossed his arms. "Cleaning what?"

"The china cabinet."

"That's on the other side of the room, dumbass. If you're going to lie to me, do it properly."

Clovis became paler than I thought possible. "I-I wasn't-"

"Don't talk back!" Lycaon moved his hand like he was going to slap him.

It made Clovis flinch. Apparently, that was enough of a reaction. The hand stiffly returned to its previous position, with its owner snickering.

The whole ordeal reminded me of Octavian. Lycaon liked violence for the same reasons as him - the reactions, and sense of power that came with them.

Clovis didn't have to be told what to do. He dropped his eyes to the ground, avoiding my gaze, and rushed to the cabinet. A rag was already there, and he began to furiously wipe the wood with it.

I watched, almost in a trance.

Even though he looked focused on the job (for the moment, at least), I knew his main goal was to watch what happened between the men and me. He was filled with morbid curiosity.

"So this is the new kid, huh?" Lycaon asked, examining me with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. He stayed with Octavian for a while. That's why I didn't send him away, usual protocol just sounded like a waste of time."

"I get he's experienced.... but this isn't like the other Houses your mother has. We serve a high-class clientele. I don't know if people are going to pay for his services if he has so many of those." Lycaon stopped talking, pointing at one of my scars.

Even though my skin concerned him before, Kronos rolled his eyes dismissively. 

"So? Just offer him for a lesser price. You needed more whores, and I'm supplying them for you. Be grateful."

Agitation flickered in Lycaon's expression, only for a second. He hesitated before thinking better of himself. "You're right.... I apologize." 

"Whatever."

The conversation was slowly coming to a pause. Lycaon used the silence to pull a ring off his finger, then a lighter from his pocket.

With a fluid motion, a fire was being held under the metal.

I knew exactly why. Branding was something I was already accustomed to. I barely even flinched when the ring was pressed against the base of my neck.

It was just another scar. 

"You're a quiet one, aren't you?" Lycaon said, addressing me for the first time. He removed the ring from my skin and returned the lighter to his pocket.

But Kronos had a gift for me, too.

A syringe was in his hand. 

The liquid was clear, and I remembered how much Octavian loved it.

Suddenly I was overcome with panic. All my energy was redirected, now for the cause of escaping the chair. It was a waste of effort, though.

I looked to Clovis for help, but all I saw was sympathy.

"No, no, no, no, no. Please no. I don't want it. I promise I don't need it. Please no-"

My begging was getting me nowhere. It was only hurting me.

"Relax! It's only heroin." He stabbed the needle in my skin and pushed the plunger down, injecting it in me.

The rush of chemicals instantly made my head foggy. With ever-slowing movements, my struggling ceased.

"Clovis, come over here and untie him. You don't have anything better to do. I'm sure you can explain some things...."

A/N ~ I UPDATED WOOT WOOT

I just got back from a camping trip. My dog is still recovering from surgery (she was just spayed). 

But, most importantly, I have a joke for you guys. It may be terrible, but my chemistry teacher told it to us in the middle of our exam and it was hilarious at the time.

*clears throat* Why are triangles the sluttiest shape?

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THEY'LL TRY ANY ANGLE!!!!!