A/N: Here is the new chapter. Thank you to Egyptprncssxox, shiningstar786, FoxLover96, and theabridgedkuriboh for the reviews on the previous chapter. Also, an additional thank you to theabridgedkuriboh for the additional reviews on chapters 7 and 8. Enjoy this new chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal or any of the characters, Shin Yoshida does.

...

Thomas lay down on his bed and tried to get some sleep, but the pain that plagued nearly his entire body prevented him from being comfortable enough to be able to rest.

Morning came all too soon and the child was woken by someone ripping him from his bed.

"Get up!" Ms. Withers barked.

The eight-year-old was thrown to the floor, crying out as his weight landed on his broken arm.

The monstrous caretaker smirked, walked over to him and stepped on his left hand.

Thomas yelped and squirmed, trying to free his previously uninjured hand, now being crushed by a madwoman.

"Stop!" he begged, still trying to get her foot off of his hand.

Glaring down at him, Ms. Withers tossed her black hair and yanked him up by his collar.

"Let's go," she growled.

"Where are we going?" Thomas choked out.

His answer was a slap to the face.

"Don't ever ask questions, you brat," Ms. Withers snapped. "You'll see where we're going when we get there."

Thomas fought the urge to cry out as she pulled him stumbling through the orphanage. Several times he felt too tired and sore to continue walking, but didn't allow himself to stop for fear of the psychotic woman dragging him along if he fell.

Finally, they came to a dark grey door. Ms. Withers reached into her pocket, pulled out a key, and unlocked the door before giving Thomas a shove.

The little boy fell against the wall.

"You stay in there until you learn your place!" the caretaker snarled as she slammed the door and locked it. "You are without any say here and if you cause anymore trouble, I promise you will regret it!"

"Let me out!" Thomas yelled, throwing himself against the door, careful to avoid doing anything with his broken arm.

He heard her footsteps fading away, the sound of her high heels becoming softer before disappearing altogether.

"Let me out!" he cried again, banging on the door frantically. "Please! It's dark in here! Ms. Withers, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was bad! Ms. Withers, please! MS. WITHERS I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD! PLEASE, PLEASE, MS. WITHERS LET ME OUT!"

After a while of pounding his fist on the door, little Thomas found himself slumping against the door and slipping to the floor. His stomach was churning and his heart was wrenching. How could all of this have happened to him? First, he'd lost his father. Then, his father's old work partner had had him sent away while his brothers got to stay together. And now, he was being tortured by a boy in the orphanage, and the woman who was supposed to look after him and care for the children of the facility.

He closed his eyes tightly and drew his knees to his chest.

...

"I'm here to see my brother," Chris said.

This time he had left his camera. After his last visit, the silvernette was confident he had enough evidence to get justice for his brother. But he'd gotten the day off and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Thomas today. Michael was in school and Hart was feeling better, so just he and Kite were spending the day together.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Arclight," Ms. Withers put on a simpering face. "You see, Thomas got into a very bad fight with one of the other children yesterday and is being punished."

"What?" Chris's pale eyebrows arched and his azure eyes narrowed. "Let me see him."

"I cannot do that," she answered. "He's being punished. And I'm sorry to say that you won't be able to visit in the next month."

"And just why not?" Chris demanded. Who was this woman to tell him he couldn't see his little brother?

"Because every fall, we take the children on an outing, usually out to the countryside," Ms. Withers explained. "We feel it gives them a nice change of scenery from the city."

The fifteen-year-old Arclight wasn't sure if he should believe her. She seemed as though she was hiding something. He wasn't stupid, he knew she was somehow behind all of Thomas's injuries. If she wasn't directly responsible, she was possibly allowing one of the other children to hurt Thomas and refused to step in. That wouldn't be hard to believe. She had always appeared to lack any care for Thomas.

"Well, when you see him, I want you to let him know I'll be back for him when he comes back," Chris said. He didn't know what else to do. If he pushed too far, she would catch on and possibly hurt Thomas even more. He would be forced to wait.

"Of course," Ms. Withers smiled.

...

Thomas lay against the door. It was pitch black inside the room he had been thrown into. After crawling around with his bruised hand stretched out in front of him, the red-and-yellow-haired boy decided that it was likely a closet, as small as it was.

"How long will she make me stay in here?" the child asked himself softly.

He wanted to call out for someone, anyone, to let him out. He hated the dark. Thunderstorms and the dark, two things he had always hated and now had to face alone.

An undeterminable amount of time passed and Thomas felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He was cold, he was tired, he was hungry, and he was in pain.

'She can't have forgotten me,' he said to himself. 'Could she?'

The little boy sighed and wiped his eyes, wincing. They felt so sore, especially his black eye.

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in the last two days. Whenever he supposedly misbehaved, Ms. Withers would withhold food. In the last few weeks she had gotten worse about it. Sometimes poor Thomas would go for days without any food. And now that he was locked in the closet or 'Isolation' as Ms. Withers and the staff called it, he would be given no food and just enough water to get by. After all if he just up and died, that would cause suspicion.

"What have I done to deserve this?" he asked out loud. "Why is all of this happening to me?"

He imagined Chris and Michael sitting at the tower. It was becoming colder so Michael most likely spent more time indoors and Chris was very likely to be taking every measure he could to stave off any potential illnesses the youngest Arclight brother could possibly catch. Chris had always been a loving and doting older brother to both Thomas and Michael. Ever since their mother died when Michael was a baby and Thomas just a toddler, Chris had stepped in and helped their father take care of them.

'I wish you were here now, Chris' Thomas sighed inwardly.

"Chris..." he murmured softly. "Please come back for me...you said you would...you promised..."

He leaned against the wall and tried to get comfortable. He really needed to rest.

...

"Dr. Faker, it's Chris," called a voice from the other side of the door.

Dr. Faker sighed.

"Come in, Chris."

The silver-haired Arclight entered the room, holding a large envelope.

"Doctor," he said, his voice cold and his brows set together in a look of utter seriousness. "I need to talk to you. This is urgent. I understand that you're a very busy man and I'm sorry, but this could not wait."

...

...

Next chapter: Faker must decide what to do about Thomas.

Next chapter date: Monday, October 12th.