Mike scanned the fern shaded shelf, looking for a book. His fingers danced across the colorful dusty spines as he walked down the row.

"Ah, here you are," he said, pulling a parakeet green book from the shelf. He smiled, tracing the title with his nail. He was about to sit down with his wife when something commonplace on the bookshelf caught his eye.

There, sitting in its usual place on the second lowest shelf, was Little Mikey. Four legs. Two horns. Rough brown fur. A single eye, like Michael.

The book fell from his fingers, clapping on the floor.

"Hey hey, that's it, no one touches Little Mikey."

"Mike, give her the bear."

Mike snatched the bear from the shelf, focused on its eye, his hand profusely shaking.

Was it only months ago, after so many years, I was finally able to take the plush out of that box buried deep in my closet? Was it only months, after so many years, I was finally able to put it back on its rightful place on the shelf? Was it only months before, after so many years, I was finally able to walk by my once favorite glance of nostalgia everyday, without having to worry about bursting into tears at the very sight of it, finally able to shovel it all down?

But then the new girl... And Sullivan...

Boo.

I knew I should have put this thing away after Sullivan came over. 

Back when I still had a chance—

Celia looked up from her book on the couch by the lit fire. "Michael?"

Without another word, Mike stormed from the living room, turned down the hall past the kitchen, and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

"Boo." His broken soul wondered, as he remained pressed against the door, a desperate effort to trap all out. "Why?"

He pressed his clawed hands to his eye, wanting to only rip it from its socket, anything to to take away this pain.

Why Sullivan? Why? Why did you have to bring all of this back once more?

"Googly bear, what's wrong?" Celia cooed like a dove from behind the closed door.

Mike slouching against the door, his attention still locked on the plush clenched in his hand. "Oh nothing. Nothing Schmoopsie Poo. Nothing at all."

* * *

I stumbled behind the lizard creature in the shadows, wondering where we were headed.

We had been walking for about an hour when I finally got cold feet.

This isn't right. This is a major red flag. I can't keep going with him.

But he knows who I am.

He knows I was here thirteen years ago.

He has answers.

But his face.

I didn't trust him. Not at all.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

What am I doing.

I have to get out of here.

I turned around and sprinted.

"Hey!" he yelled from behind me.

I'm very light on my feet when people chase me—

But in my sickened state, I couldn't run for long. I tripped and tumbled, rolling to a stop on the concrete.

Dizzy and dazed, all I could see past the scattered stars blinding my vision was the lizard's fuming face, a sight so terrifying it almost stopped my heart. I shuddered. A gong rang in my ears. My legs tingled, so weak if I had stood I would have collapsed. An iron ball dropped in my stomach. And as I felt him lifting my body up in his cold bony hands, I fell into a deep, deep, sleep.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the weight on my chest.

But when I opened my eyes, I found myself merely chained by my legs and arms to a wall, (haha, merely) stretched out like a starfish, one foot above the ground. Above me was a dangling naked bulb, its light near to burning out. Outside the small circle of orange glow everything was pitch black.

It must have been hours since I blacked out.

Hours.

Wow. He didn't even knock me out. Since when was I a narcoleptic?

Though my arms and legs were sore from being hung from the cuffs of the chains, nothing was pressed against my chest like I expected.

Then why did I feel like this?

I panted, my body spasming, burning with fever. But I couldn't breathe. Not properly.

If I hadn't been held up by the pulled chains, I know I would have broken like a toothpick to the ground.

I threw my head down, as I wretched my insides out.

What is this? I thought, my teeth chattering. What's wrong with me?

No matter how hard I tried, my lungs would not expand to their fullest.

Was it being pinned to the wall like this, slowly suffocating myself from my own weight, as those crucified on crosses were? Maybe. But I had a feeling it was something more.

This time, as I inhaled once again, I observed how and where I struggled to breathe.

It was on the inside. Like I was drowning within myself.

I know this feeling.

When you've had it four times previously, it's easy to self-diagnose.

I took another breath to confirm my reasoning.

The crackling. The popping. The buzz tickling in my lungs.

I coughed, overwhelmed with the feeling of entrapment as my throat sealed, not able to grasp a full breath between each take.

Pneumonia.

I have... Pneumonia.

I just imaged what an X-Ray would show in that moment. Fluid, bacteria, filling the little oxygen sacks sealed away behind my fragile rib cage, rendering little movement to my paralyzed chest.

I had to be hospitalized last time. My lung had collapsed.

I began to panic.

I need to get help. I need medical help.

I shook my head frantically.

No help. No help. Do not get help.

"Good, you're awake. For a while there I thought you were dead already." My captor's voice echoed off the walls.

"Oh wouldn't you love that." I said, clearing my throat of phlegm.

"No, I still need you alive for the next while."

This sent a chill down my spine.

A huge screech of grinding metal made my head fly back in pain, as the chains slammed me against the concrete wall. "UGH!"

It stopped, but the wonderful sound of silence was interrupted by the new volatile growl of an engine cranking.

My chains began to crawl apart.

My eyes darted from both my wrists to the sudden flicker of a red pin head light, straight ahead of me in the darkness.

From the black, emerged...

A floating video camera?

The purple blue tailed lizard appeared out of thin air, the camera resting on his shoulder.

I spoke up, ready to give him a piece of my half-baked mind. "You know, back in my day, I used to catch lizards. With the little blue tails? They were such cowards, they dropped their tails as a distraction as they ran away. Funny, they now seem courageous compared to you."

He ignored me.

"Oh I'm sorry, they don't have those here. Just gigantic creeps like you."

I could see him internally fight his anger as I got under his skin.

"Now let me go before I pop that tail off for you."

He continued to capture every moment of my anguish. Out of anything witty to say, for the moment at least, I let my head fall limp, my chin buried in my chest. I shut my eyes, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

I peeked them open.

I had gone nowhere.

I lifted my eyes. My kidnapper had not ceased to film me.

"What?" I strained, my voice a hoarse whisper from the phlegm slowly choking me. I cleared my throat, and raised my chin up. "You know, if you want my good side..."

My captor revealed a serpent grin of a thousand razor sharp teeth.

I immediately retracted that statement. "Woah woah woah. Woah! Calm down. I will smack you."

But that's not what he meant.

The chains began to pull harder.

I braced myself for the pain.

But...

It was nothing.

As it was before.

It was funny. The chains, surprising slow, only tugged at my limbs like little children fighting for my attention.

I glanced from my right wrist back to him. "Really?"

He ignored me, the camera still rolling.

It tugged a little tighter.

Just a little.

My eyes rolled so much they almost popped out of their sockets. "Ow, ow, no really, ow. Ow, that hurts. I know orphans that can yank harder than you. You think yoga, gymnastics, and Tae kwon do hasn't stretched me out like taffy?"

Frustrated, he set the camera down.

He stormed up to me, getting up in my grill. "Scream."

"I'm sorry, what Skipper?"

"Scream. You used to be reeeaaaal good at that."

I bobbed my head as if considering his gripping offer. "Uh, yeah, uh, sorry boss. Ain't feeling it today."

He fumed. "Scream for help by your own free will or this will become a lot less pleasant for you, you little dane."

Do not get help.

I grinned. "Ok, first of all, it's dame. If you're gonna threaten me, do it properly."

Finally no Mrs. Casteel to cut me off!

"Second of all, you're nuts if you think tugging on my apron like mummy in the kitchen is going to make me succumb to yelling for help like some airheaded damsel in distress."

Smack.

I was not expecting to be slapped.

And bouy did it sting.

However, I kept my composure. I turned my other cheek, sticking my nose in the air. "Fight me."

I would not ask for help.

"You like pain, eh?" my reptilian captor smirked. "Didn't think I would need more than first power."

The purple lizard slithered back into the darkness. "If the kid can stand that I'll have to go maximum for Sullivan after all," he mumbled, almost inaudible.

I arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Who?"

I received no response. After a clip and another screech, he came back to the spot of the camera, and picked it back up, rolling.

The unseen engine roared again. Gears churned, and whistles blew.

The chains holding my limbs jerked, straightening like a thrown noose.

"Arrrgghh." I winced.

"I can go all the way to maximum, kid. Just. Scream."

I gritted my teeth.

Yet I remained calm.

The chains yanked tighter and tighter.

I would not react.

"You know, there used to be a machine for this," he said bitterly before pulled another lever. "But this is almost just as fun to watch."

Another jerk at my chains.

I pulled my body together as much as I could, refusing to give in.

I ignored the rising burn of the tear.

I would not let go.

I would not give him what he wanted.

It's nothing. It's nothing. It's just pain. It's just pain—

The muscles in my limbs began to tremble like a tower of Jenga.

He cranked it again. "That's level six. I've got five more before you're a rubber toy."

I heaved for breath, a labor of its own, just to remain calm.

I would not react.

I could not let go.

If I let go...

I began to huff, struggling to keep it together.

"You know," I clenched my teeth. "I've always wanted to be Elastigirl." I superglued my eyes shut, a growl rising in me.

I will remain calm.

I will not react.

I will not let go.

I will not let go.

I will not—

"Argggg—ahhhh!" I was unable to contain my voice anymore.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" The intensity still cranked.

For a moment, from the corner of my eye I could see a red glow flicker from within the darkness.

I continued to shrill at the top of my drowning lungs. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The red glowed again, forming a perfect circle.

The lizard put the camera down, turned it off, turned his back to me, and strutted into the blindness of the room.

Another clip and screech.

Moments later, the chains let go.

They completely let go.

The cuffs around my wrists and ankles released.

I fell to the floor, my arms and legs throbbing with agony, my body shaking, my pride in pieces.

I curled into a ball, heaving my guts out, coughing and spitting mucus and blood, my back now soaked in sweat.

I had given in to his torture.

I had given him what he wanted.

Never again.

Never again will I give in to my pain.

Never again will I scream.

Never again will I look like a fool.

"You monster," I uttered before my cheek hit the cold floor.

"Great observation skills, kid."

I'm not a kid.

Then I noticed how my desperately thrown insult at him went against everything I had read.

Against everything I had believed.

But I didn't care anymore.

I don't care about philosophy. I don't care about life. I don't care about monsters. I don't care about anything.

I just want this pain to end.

I rolled over in defeat. What was the point anymore?

What have I become.

My heart grew empty with hopelessness.

No one will never come for me. There is no escape.

There is no...

I quaked on the cold concrete.

I did not cry, though.

I would not cry.