"Good news, Mr. Lester." A nurse smiled opening the curtains the next Monday. "You're free to go! Isn't that exciting?" Phil was on the bed with his hands wrapped around his bent knees. He looked up at her and nodded. He had grown more and more silent over the past few days and now was practically mute. The nurse had tried everything to get him to speak but nothing seemed to work or even help. She sighed and handed him the clothes his parents had dropped off for him. They had wanted to give them to their son, but Phil had refused to see them. He didn't want them to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

"I'll let you get dressed and you can be on your way then." The nurse mumbled and went to the door. She slipped her hand in her pocket and felt a small card. She pulled it out with curiosity and saw it was the one the business woman from the clinic had given her to give to Mr. Howell. But Mr. Howell had had a stack of these cards, she reasoned as she turned around and gave it to Phil.

"Please, think about going." She asked of Phil. He looked at the card then at her and nodded, but they both knew he was lying.

Meanwhile...

Down the hall...

"Mr. Howell," The nurse nodded curtly at Dan as she placed a tray of food by his bed. "You're being realized today."

"Finally." Dan mumbled as he reached over for the tray and began picking at the food. She wasn't sure if the 'finally' was for being released from this prison or for the food finally getting there. Either way, she did not like this but she kept her mouth shut.

"Your friend dropped by these." She said putting the clothing on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, he's my roommate." Dan said thickly through the 'scrambled' eggs that tasted undercooked and slimy.

"That was awfully nice of him." She said, surprised Dan was engaging in this conversation or any at all, he had said much over the past few days. "Why didn't he come and visit you to drop these off?" Dan glared at her and swallowed the mouthful of gross eggs and toast so she could hear him clearly.

"I don't want to see anyone after what happened." He stated coolly, she blushed and went towards the door huffing on her furry. Dan smiled at this reaction then noticed one card still left on the bedside table. He picked it up, the one for the clinic he mused. He had thought he had got rid of them all in various ways; under the plates on his trays, flushing them down the toilet with his painful shits, eating them piece by piece. "Guess you're the last one, huh little guy?" He croaked "Well, I have a special plan for you." He then got up and got dressed and pocketed the slip of paper.

At the same time...

Down the hall...

Phil had slipped his own card into his own clean jeans. They both turned out of their rooms and headed for the exit. They both waited for the elevator, checked themselves out, and went separate ways, never saying a word to one another.

However, they both seemed to notice how attractive the other one was. But they never acted on it.

Who would date a guy like me after what happened? Phil thought coldly, turning the opposite way of Dan as he hailed a taxi.

Who date someone that has been tainted like me? Dan thought savagely, flipping up his collar and walking against the rain that was starting to come down.

No one, they both concluded.

Two Months Later...

"Yeah, I'll have two packs of ciggies and a lotto ticket, thanks mate." Dan ordered harshly at the Indian cashier behind the counter.

"That'll be twenty-five pounds." The Indian man smiled. Dan shelled out the money and placed it on the counter even though the cashier held his hand out for the money. The cashier looked puzzled for a moment before handing Dan the bag.

"Keep the change." Dan mumbled around a cigarette as he left the shop. He reached for a lighter in his pocket and grabbed something else. He pulled out the scrap of paper and looked at it. "Oh, hello old friend." He chuckled at the worn and withered paper that barely held any information about the clinic that always slipped his mind. He held it up and took out the lighter in the other hand. Like many times before, he held the paper close to the flame, almost setting it on fire. But, like always, decided against it and pocketed it once more before lighting the cigarette dangling from his mouth. He breathed in the addictive pollution and walked, with his collar up, against the rain, back towards his flat.

Even though it would have saved him time, Dan went around the block instead of through the alleyway. He never went down there anymore.

He entered the nearly clean apartment as a cleaning tornado was at its work.

"Glad your home." PJ said exasperatedly. "I have been cleaning since I woke up. Some friends are coming over tonight and I want the entire apartment to be clean for them so, do you mind cleaning up your room?" PJ asked hesitantly as he swept the kitchen floor. Dan looked at him in shock.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier that people were coming over tonight?" Dan flared up as he tossed off his jacket and fled to his, untidy to say the least, room.

"Because I didn't want you to back out again." PJ called after him. "Dan, it's been months since you've seen anyone besides me, you're friends are starting to worry." He added softly but then PJ noticed a card that had fallen out of Dan's jacket. He could barely make out the letters on the worn out surface by he managed. "'London's Rape and Relief Clinic'" He read aloud to see if it sounded right. "'020-555-9450. Don't Worry, we are ALL Victims Here.'" He read the slogan and chills ran up his spine. "How is that comforting?" He asked with an 'are you serious' look on his face.

"It is to me." Dan growled behind PJ making him leap in the air. "And I would appreciate it if you would give it back to me right now." Dan stated through gritted teeth. PJ didn't argue, he knew better, he simply handed the card back to Dan. Dan took it and grabbed his coat again. "I'm not coming home tonight, tell everyone I had an emergency and keep them from fucking in my room. Cheers." Dan slammed the door as he left.

"Damn it, PJ!" PJ scolded himself, "Now look what you've done!" He flopped on the couch and caught himself repeating the slogan and Dan's words in his mind. 'Don't Worry, We are ALL Victims Here.' It's comforting to me.

Meanwhile...

In a London flat,

Not too far away...

"Phil, lunch is ready!" Louise called from the kitchen. She waited a moment when her phone pinged; a text, from Phil.

'I'm not hungry.' was all it said.

"Phil, you can't keep doing this." Louise said walking down the hall to the closed door and placing a hand on the decorated wood. The door was plastered in animal stickers and drawings with a new sign over top of the cuddly animals that read 'Go Away.' This was how Phil now communicated with everyone now, through texts and signs never, ever speaking. Louise was beginning to forget what his voice sounded like. How long had it been since she had heard him laugh? Months, at least since Zachariah had been in their lives.

But she didn't like to think about that sick bastard ever since the incident. She had convinced Phil to move in with her after he came back from the hospital and he texted her 'can I stay with you for a while?' She had insisted but Phil didn't really object to it. Now his apartment was still a crime scene until Zachariah would be let go in a few weeks unless Phil came forward and told his side of the story.

"Come on Phil, it's your favorite: Curry." She tempted him but her phone pinged again.

'leave it outside the door please' she read. She sighed, she knew she shouldn't give into his wishes but she didn't want to argue when he was acting this way.

"Sure Phil, I'll set it outside your door." She said to the door. She walked back down the hall and severed a plate when her phone pinged again.

'thank you' was all it said.

Louise set the plate down, mumbled "You're welcome, Sweetie." and trotted back down the hallway, defeated. It was a little while later when she got another text from Phil.

'I'm finished it was really good' She when back down the hall and picked up the plate which was almost as full as when she had set it down. It looked picked over and hardly touched. She took in a deep breathe; enough was enough.

"Phil," No reply. "I'm coming in." She said and opened the door. I may have been three in the afternoon, but it also could have been midnight. The curtains were drawn, making it hazardously dark what with the clothes and animals all around the room. "Phil, are you in here?" She heard the shower running in the adjacent bathroom and realized he must be taking a shower again. That's all he ever seemed to do anymore. Sleep, pick at food, lather, rinse, repeat, that was Phil's life now.

Something on his bedside table caught her eye though. It was a piece of paper, a business card. "'London's Rape and Relief Clinic'" She read, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark and small, worn words. "'020-555-9450. Don't Worry, we are ALL Victims Here.'" She felt sick reading those words but they gave her an idea. She suddenly came to realize the lack of water running in the background. She placed the card quickly back, repeating the numbers in her head as she quickly left the room. 020-555-9450. 020-555-9450. She thought over and over until she wrote it down on the whiteboard she kept for grocery shopping lists. 'London's Rape and Relief Clinic.' She wrote beside the numbers. The slogan rang through her head like a catchy song: 'Don't Worry, we are ALL Victims Here.' "Creepy." She whispered as she dialed the number.