Bel didn't know how long it had been since he had been abandoned; all he knew was that, when his eyes opened again, he was in a room so blindingly white; it was hurting his head. He took notice of the sun's partially-hidden rays shining through the window opposite him, but there was no view; only the grey sky that denoted the storms to come.

The teenager felt numb, perhaps more benumbed than he had ever felt. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't care; nothing mattered anymore now that he was alone again.

He curled into a ball, hissing as his stomach wound burned angrily at the movement. He could feel blood streaming from the penetration, but that wasn't important; maybe if he were lucky, death would finally claim him.

"You're awake."

Bel tensed at the unfamiliar voice. He didn't try to look behind him; he simply let the footsteps approach him; what could they possibly do to him he hadn't already experienced? He was used to it, and if he had to live like it for the rest of his life, then so be it.

He shivered as a hand rested on his shoulder, but he didn't speak; he stared straight ahead at the empty chair by the bed he laid on. He could almost envision Lussuria sitting by his side, whispering soothing words, but it would never happen again; Lussuria had abandoned him, just like everyone else. Maybe the past eight years with him had been a lie, and he was stupid to believe that Lussuria could ever love someone like him… Hell, even his family probably hadn't cared to search for him after the abduction.

"How does your stomach feel?"

There was that voice again. He hated it. He knew that beneath the calm, kind tone there was resentment for him and his very existence. They probably didn't even care if he was in pain. Maybe that was what they wanted.

"You've been out for a week."

He sincerely wished whoever it was would just. Stop. Talking. He wanted to be alone, to suffer in silence. If no one wanted him in their life, he was just fine being by himself – that was what he had been this whole time, right?

"The police have been waiting for you to wake up to interview you. They haven't been able to track any of them down, but when they do, they think there'll be enough evidence to hold them without trial."

Those words did nothing for Bel. He wasn't sure how he felt towards Xanxus and the others, how he felt about the things they had done to him. For eight years they had been all he knew. At just eight-years-old, he had been taught that the things they did to him meant they loved him. And now, at sixteen, he couldn't even find the strength to doubt them, to question if what they had done to him was right or wrong. He was tired, and he wanted to put an end to his life.

He shuddered as he felt a hand ghost through his blond locks. He closed his eyes, sighing to himself, not liking the fact that he couldn't see from his left eye, blinding him to the actions of the person behind him.

"Well, I guess you must be exhausted. I'll leave you to rest."

Bel couldn't even find it in himself to cry as those footsteps left the room. The truth was, he didn't want to be alone, no matter how much he tried to tell himself he was okay. If having a stranger stand in the room behind him, just talking to him – even if they fucking despised him – was what it took for him to feel as if he weren't facing life by himself, he would take it. He would give anything to have someone by his side, to love him for real, to care for him and look after him.

Somehow, Bel knew in his heart that that was all just wishful thinking.