A/N: So, the regular-ish uploads feel really good, I can't write on weekends, but, I'm enjoying getting these done so fast. :) I spent alot of hours researching pills and flouride and their affects, so, what I'm using in this fic is the best that google could offer me, the closest to what i was wanting. Thats why im not using a name for the third kind they get at breakfest, I kinda had to make one up... I tried for realism, it just wasnt living up to my expectations...

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At eleven thirty they were all awakened by the sounds of footsteps coming down the basement stairs. The lights were flicked on, shining intrusivly into their caged room and pulling them out of their shallow sleep. Drake groaned as he turned away from the light.

"A few more minutes Josh..." he muttered.

Zane nugged Drake's shoulder, forcing him awake. "Better get up, or they'll beat you." he whispered as he and the other boys all stood and walked toward the door to their cell.

It didnt take Drake long to remember where he was, or what had happened. He pushed himself to his weary feet and went to stand with the other boys.

This time there were four men to order them about. All of them looked as mean as the next, all with the same hatred and disgust in their eyes. Richard, Benny, Dustin and Brent, Zane had told him. One rank higher then them, yet slaves all the same.

Brent stepped forward, unlocking the cage. "Get cleaned up." he ordered.

Drake followed the other boys as they walked single file into the bathroom together, the door shut and locked behind them. They took turns at the shower and toilet, sharing the double sink and mirror as they groomed themselves.

"Brendon has anyone who doesnt meet his standerds for appearence beaten." Ash said as he leaned against the wall.

Drake nodded, brushing out his hair and looking at the bags under his eyes. he looked terrible, he'd never looked this bad... "What are they gonna do with us?" he asked, curious, yet afraid of the answer.

"We'll get breakfest, then our pills, and then be put to work." Zane said as he stepped out of the shower. "We eat when they wake us up, and then again before they lock us up for the night."

"What kind of work?" Drake asked, a bit more at ease.

"Cleaning mostly, this place doesnt clean itself." Ash said sarcastically.

Damien looked up from his toothbrush, eyes distant. "Do you think if you clean something too much, that it just becomes dirty? Like it's so clean, that the added polish just sticks to it, dulling it out over time? Nothing clean is ever clean, like it might need the occasional dirt to make it actually look good when you clean it?"

"Don't know." Zane said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If it does, then we'll clean this place untill its filthy."

Damien smiled briefly then went back to his appearence.

"Being here messes with you." Ash said, his eyes on Damien. "He's not the same as he used to be, looks older then he is."

"How old is he?" Drake asked. he didnt know if Damien was listening to them. His gaze was so distant and broken, like he were secretly somewhere else.

"He's fourteen." Ash said. "None of us belong here, but him for sure. He was thirteen when they brought him in, they beat and abused him untill he ended up like this. The rest of us were older..."

Drake nodded, his eyes downcast.

"We look out for him, like a little brother." Zane said as he stood beside Drake. "We look after each other. This place, this life, it tears you apart. Life before this, after this long you're lucky if you remember any of it the way it was. I think of my mom's face, but I dont know if that's what she really looked like. I can't remember for sure..." There were tears in his eyes.

"Hold onto your memories as best as you can." Ash warned him. "If you let them go, even for a day, they slip away."

"Keep quiet," Damien said absently. "Words arnt welcome here, questions are looked down upon."

The sharp knock at the door startled all of them. Brent swung the door open, grinning as he ushered them out of the bathroom and toward a fold out table and chairs against the wall. Their meal was simple; A couple slices of lightly toasted bread, a small portion of ham and an orange.

They sat in silence and ate the food as quickly as they could, the pains of hunger demanding that they eat. After they finished the food they took their plates to a small sink and washed them, leaving them to dry upon the rack. Drake mimicked everything he saw the other boys do, intent on staying out of trouble.

"Line up." Dustin barked.

Single filed, the boys stood and waited to be given their pills and water.

"Don't try to hide them under your tongue." Zane whispered, "They always know."

Drake nodded, waiting his turn. When his time came he took the pills and water, swallowing them with a pained expression. He hated this. He hated what was happening to him, what had been happening to his new friends.

After all of the pills had been swallowed, each or the boys was grabbed by the arm by one of the men. Each was to be taken to a different part of the house to do their work, seperated they were weaker, more afraid. That was how Brendon wanted them.

Richard gripped Drake's arm so tightly that he thought he might have bruises. He was jerked up the basement stairs toward the foyer where he'd entered the house yesturday; where he'd seen the chain attached to the wall. He was stood beside it as Richard locked a shackle around his ankle.

"It's got enough lenth for the entire foyer," He grunted before placeing two buckets and a small bin full of cleaning tools and a canteene of water before him. One of the buckets was empty, the outer full of soapy water that smelled of lemons. "Instructions are on a paper in the bin, bathroom is next to the isolation room." he said, pointing to it. "Everytime you use the bathroom, you clean it, understood?"

"Yes," Drake answered.

Richard struck him. "Yes what?"

Tears behind his eyes, Drake remembered what he was supposed to say. "Yes sir."

Richard smiled cruelly and pointed to the empty bucket, "You'll find out what that one's for soon enough." He laughed and walked toward on of hallways across the room, looking back. "Dont forget to clean the mess you left in the isolation room." he chuckled and left.

Drake felt the embarresment burning across his face.

He stood a moment, looking over the room: It was just as clean as it had been yeasterday. The instructions on the laminated list were simple, what product got used on each piece of furniture, shelving, and piece of art. The floor were to be scrubbed with the water in the first bucket, a small handheld vacum was provided for the rugs.

He started with the glass: whipping down the windows and table tops, the frames of the many beautiful painting and ornaments. while he cleaned the windows he gazed outside of them. Outside of this house of chains, the freedom that he thought he might never have again.

Half an hour passed when the pain started in his abdomen. nausea passed over him in waves as his vision faded in and out. he could feel what little food he had in his stomach twisting inside of his stomach as he realized what the secound bucket was for. Within secounds of the realization he was huddled over the bucket, vomiting everything he had within himself out. He cried as his insides burnt. He rocked back and forth, waiting for the waves of nausea to stop before carrying the bucket into the bathroom.

It wasnt very big, about the size of the one he'd had at home, but it was over decorated with spledid colors and decorations. It held a toilet, and a granite counter with a porcelin sink. The mirror was circular, its frame made up of what looked like braided silver.

He pulled on the rubber gloves that had been in his cleaning bin and emptied the bucket into the toilet. Within the cabnet under the sink were the cleaners for the bathroom. He set the bucket down and began scrubbing the toilet, then the sink.

Over the next two hours he polished and scrummed everything but the floors. he'd stopped to vomit three other times since the first, his body so empty and dehydrated that he was shaking. H spent all of his time thinking about home and trying not to cry. His families faces, their voices. He imagined walking through the house, every room and each portrait on the walls. He didnt want to forget any of it, of them. Most of all he thought of Josh, the last words he'd said to him echoed through his mind constantly. He hoped against everything that Josh had accepted his apology.

He was just finishing the foyer floor when the grandfather clock chimed three o'clock. He paused, counting the chimes as they echoed against the walls, looking over everything he'd done. He had never had to clean before, he hoped that it looked as good to everyone else as it did to him. He pushed himself to his feet and carried the cleaning water toward the isolation room. The thought of ever being left in there again sent chills down his spine. He closed his eyes, opened the door and fell to his aching knees.

He tried to keep the memories of being locked in there far away, but just seeing the shackles hanging from the ceiling made his arms hurt. he faught back the tears as he scrubbed the floor clean, polished the dried sweat from the cuffs that had held his wrist.

Richard came back for him around three thirty, looking over the room and shrugging. The anger flared within Drake as he watched Richard dismiss all of his hard work. His shackle was unlocked and neatly curled back into its pile by the wall. He was made to gather up is buckets and cleaning supplies, taking them into a small cleaning room inside the garrage. It was the emptyest room he'd seen so far. Bare concrete floors and walls, all of with had wooden shelves to hold the various cleaning chemicals and buckets.

He stood over the shappy, deep sink and cleaned out both buckets, drying them and placing them back on the shelves. He refiled the spray bottles of polish and cleaner from their larger jugs and placed them neatly within the small bins on the shelves.

He filled a new cleaning bucket and the freashly resotcked bin and followed Richard to another room down the main hallway. The Music room. He starred in wonder at the many different instruments around the room, the shelves holding thick books of music. He was again shackled to a chain on the wall and left alone. he waited until he could no longer hear Richards heavy footsteps and walked over toward a guitar shining in the afternoon sunlight. He listened for any sound of someone coming before tenderly running his fingers over the strings. A sad smile fell over his lips as he pulled himself away from the instrument to clean the room.

Two more hours passed before richard again led him to the supply room. He repeate the ritual from earlier, this time he was instructed to leave everything in its rightful place. He gathered up the dirtied cleaning rags and carried them to a room just down the hall from the basement stairs. The Laundrey room was almost as plain as the supply room, within it only the things needed for the work to be done. The other boys were all being lead in, all of the shackled to the walls by different chains and left to wash the rags and clothing of themselves, the other four, and their captors.

The exhaustion was plain to see on all of their faces as they waited for the other men to be out of hearing range.

"How are you holding up?" Zane asked, looking over at Drake.

He shook his head. "Everything hurts, and I've been throwing up all day."

"You'll do that for the first week." Ash said sympothetically. "Untill your body gets used to the pills."

Drake nodded, his stomach feeling heavy with dread.

They spent the next hour doing the Laudrey, the other boys showing Drake what was washed which way. They didnt talk much, all of them listening for footsteps. A little after seven thirty the laundrey was finished and they were whipping the sweat from their foreheads. The hunger was clawing at them, making them agitated.

The men came again to take them to the Kitchen. They were to wash all of the dishes and clean the counters and floors. They were not shackled this time, as the others stood and watched while they were there. Zane had referred to it as 'suicide watch', if any of them tried to hurt themselves with the knives in the kitchen, they would be beaten and put in isolaton.

Zane washed the dishes, Drake dried them and Damien put them away while Ash cleaned the counters and floors. They kept this up for around forty minutes, the last twenty would be spent scrubbing out the sink and cleaning the stove and oven.

Drake's enitire body throbbed with hunger, his mouth salivating as his eyes watched Zane scrub left over food from the dishes. He was shaking much worse now, it took most of his consentration to keep from dropping the dishes. He turned to look at the clock on the stove, thats when he dropped the teacup. He watched it fall in slowmotion, seeing it crack then shatter as it hit the floor. He heard the others gasp, the chuckles from the men as Brent stepped forward.

"Clean that up." He snarled at Ash as he grabbed Drake by the arm, twisting it behind him to keep him still.

He tried to pull away from him, all of his instancts telling him to fight back. Had he not been so weakened, he might have had a chance. Brent simply pinched his other hand around the back of Drake's neck, pressing on the preasure points until there were tears in his eyes.

He marched Drake out from the kitchen, around to the front of the staircase and up to the secound floor. All the while Drake tried to pull his arms free, to do anything. He begged and pleaded as he was stood before a heavy oak door, waiting as Brent knocked five times. It was code, the number of knocks told Brendon what he was being disturbed for.

He opened the door, looking down at the squirming drake with dissapointment as he gestured Brent into the room.

"What was broken?" he asked, turning his back to them to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window.

"A tea cup." Brent scoffed.

Drake gave up trying to pull free, starring at Brendon with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I, I didnt mean to, my arms were shaking and it slipped,"

Brendon spun around, glarring at him. "Did I ask you for an excuse?" His words were cold.

"No, No sir." Drake whimpered as he tried to back away, doing little more then shoveing himself into Brent.

"Punishment," he said cooly. "Is the only way to learn."

"Please..." Drake whispered as fear swept over him. he didnt want to go back in the room.

Brendon nodded towards the standing mirror in the corner of the room. Brent dragged Drake over toward it, pushing him against its cool, reflective surface before forcing his shirt over his head. Brendon walked around the mirror, taking Drake's wrists and crossing them from the other side, leaving his pressed against the mirror, starring into his own eyes.

"Reflection," Brendon said as he stepped into Drake's view, in his hands a long, nine tailed leather whip. "Looking back on your faults and learning from them, is the only way to better yourself."

Drake didnt look at himself as the first crack fell upon him, instead he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against the sudden pain. The secound hit was harder, but he refused to cry out.

"Open your eyes, now." Brendon demanded, his usual cool lost behind a deep anger.

Drake opened his eyes, staring himself in the face as the thrid strick fell. Watching as his pupils dialated with the pain, as the tears built up behind his glazing eyes. He was hit again and again, feeling the skin crack as the blood trickled down his back in thin streams. It wasnt until the seventh strike that he cried out, gasping in heavy breathes as he begged for it to stop.

Brendon nodded his head and Brent released his wrists, they watched as he fell to the floor, leaning against the cold glass of the miror as he cried.

"Put him back with the others." Brendon ordered.

Brent took him forcefully by the arm and lead him back to the basement, chuckling softly ever time Drake winced in pain. He was shoved into line with the others to recieve their nightly dose of pills before being left to eat a small dinner of cold cut sandwiches and an apple. Then they were shoved and locked within the bathroom.

Noone said a word as Zane cleaned and bandaged the lacerations on Drake's back, all of them showing sympathy as he cried as quietly as he could. Twenty minutes later they were locked into their cell, and the lights were shut off.

Once the others had left Zane turned on their dim lightbulb and turned toward Drake. "I'm sorry." he offered as he sat down.

Drake shook his head. "it wasnt your fault."

Without warning Damien sat on the bed next to Drake and hugged him, careful to avoid pressing against his wounds. "it'll be okay." he whispered.

"Thank you," Drake said, pushing back a new wave of tears. He was glad that they were there with him.

"Get some rest," Ash said before turning off the light. "Tomorrow's gonna be rough."

Drake layed curled up on his side, crying softly as he thought of his mom. He wanted her there with him, to hold him and tell him that things would be okay. Slowly sleep took him, though tonight it wouldn't be as blissfully empty as the last.

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A/N: This chapter was longer then I expected it to be, it's also the only one that will depict a full days routine. I wanted to show what the normal routine for the boys was like, to get the feel of it out there. More to come hopefully soon.