Hey everyone! Here's the chapter I promised!

Thanks to everyone that followed, favorited, and/or reviewed!

And again, I am so very sorry about the really late update. Please forgive me.

Here's chapter fourteen!

I don't know when I wake up, but when I do, my eyes won't open. It's as if they're glued shut. So I sit there, listening for sounds of life. My memory is foggy, and I don't fully know where I am. It's all one big blur.

I lay there for a bit longer before it starts coming back to me: being caught, Sting, the whip. The pain. The unbearable pain. And escaping, running, with something in my arms. Then Lucy's apartment and collapsing. Now if only I can remember what was in my arms. . .

Try as I might, I can't remember what it was, so I resign to lying on the bed, thinking about nothing in particular, just resting. I try moving my hand, but only my fingers twitch.

It's then that I notice the hand holding mine.

I hear someone stir next to me. A pressure is lifted from the bed, as if someone had their head placed on it.

"Natsu?" a groggy voice says. I recognize it as Lucy's. "Are you awake?"

I open my parched lips to answer, but my throat is too dry for any words to form. I give a small nod instead. I hear Lucy gasp and feel her lean over me. My eyes still won't open.

"How are you feeling, Natsu?" Lucy asks, concern lacing her voice.

I try to pry my eyes open, and it works. Well, it sort of does; they open halfway, just enough for me to see Lucy hovering by me.

I start to tell her that I'm better (even though I'm not; I'm hurting like hell) but a groan of pain is all that comes out.

Lucy becomes visibly more worried. She reaches for something on her bedside table, and the next thing I know, she's telling me to swallow some pills. I comply and swallow the pills with water that she gives me.

My eyes flutter fully open, revealing Lucy's bed and the cat curled up asleep at the end. Wait, cat? Then I remember. The cat is what was in my arms.

Lucy leans into my view again. I give what I hope is a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," I say with a hoarse voice, meaning it with all my heart.

She bursts into tears. "I was so worried," she sobs. "I didn't know what would happen to you."

"Lucy. . ." I murmur. She continues to cry into her hands, and I have the urge to comfort her. I sit up in the bed, wincing at the pain the action brings. Once in a sitting position, I wrap my arms around Lucy and pull her close to me, placing her head against my chest.

We sit there for a while, her crying into my chest, me holding her as she does so. Her cries eventually stop and she looks up at me, into my eyes. I return the gaze and give her a small smile.

"Everything is going to be okay," I tell her. "I promise. So please don't cry."

"But seeing you like that—like this—it's painful. It hurts. Natsu, it makes me sad to see you so beat up." A silent tear escapes her eye.

I caress her face in my hand and wipe away the tear with my thumb.

I look at her with sad eyes, wanting desperately to tell her that I'll be fine, that I'm used to things like this. But I can't. I just can't. I can't bring myself to say it, to admit it. I'm not ready to. And that scares me. Why can't I tell her? I trust her with my life, so why can't I tell her? But I'm asking questions I know the answers to.

I can't tell her because it would put her in danger.

I look away, worried she might read my thoughts, and not wanting to have to answer her questions. She's bound to ask some eventually. She always does.

And I can't evade them forever.

"Natsu. . ." I turn back to Lucy, who is now sitting on the bed with her legs hanging off the side. She looks up at me and asks, "Are you really okay?"

I can't meet her gaze. "Yes."

"I just feel like there's more than what I see." She looks down to her lap. "I mean, you're almost always hurt, and you don't really ever give an explanation as to why. Everyday there's something new: a new scar, a new cut, a new bruise, a new broken bone. I'm scared that someday it's going to be worse, that someday you won't come to school. That you won't ever come back to school." She looks at me now, fresh tears welling in her chocolate eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "Everyone's worried, Natsu. I'm worried."

"Lucy. . ." I trail off, not knowing what to say, not able to say what I want to. So instead I move closer to her and wipe away her tears, tracing my thumb down her cheek to her chin. She leans into my touch and closes her eyes, letting the tears flow.

"Natsu," she says, opening her eyes, "you know I'm here for you, right? I'm here if you need me. Gray, Erza, Gajeel, Levy, Lisanna—we're all here for you. Every one of us is. All you need to do is tell us. I promise you we'll help." She looks at me almost pleadingly. "So please," she says, her voice just barely above a whisper now, "tell us—tell me—what's happening."

My hands drop to my lap and I look to the side, away from her. I feel so bad about not telling her; it's obviously hurting her. But I can't tell her. I can't put her in danger. Not like I did with Zeref.

"Someday."

"What?" she asks.

"Someday I'll tell you." I rise from the bed and put my shirt on, my back to her. "But I won't today." Ignoring the pounding in my head and the ache in my body, I grab my hood-y and head for the door. I take hold of the knob and pause. Is this the right decision? Is this really the right choice to make? For now, I decide that yes, it is.

"Please take care of the cat for me," I say. And then I leave.

Three blocks away, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe I just got super beat up by Sting in front of the Sabertooth gang and made it to Lucy's place. I can't believe she felt that way. I'm hurting her aren't I? By not telling her, I'm actually hurting her. Maybe I should tell her . . .?

No.

At least this way she's safe. That matters the most.

I make a left turn in the direction of where I live. I'm not eager to go back there, but I need to or Jiemma will shock me, thinking I've tried to escape his clutches.

I walk for a few more minutes, not really thinking about anything. Pfft, that's a lie. I'm thinking about so many things: what might happen when I get back, how and when I'll tell Lucy, if I'll accept her help, if I'll get help on my own before telling her, or if I'll just rip the shock-chip out of my arm and run away and die homeless on the streets.

I reach the house all too soon and climb up the steps. Taking off my shoes before I enter, I slowly open the door and creep inside. After quietly placing my shoes by the front door I tiptoe to the stairs and sneak up them. The top stair is where things go south.

I freefall down the steps, my back hitting against them, and then I flip and my stomach hits the edge of the second-to-last step, and I lie on the floor in pain. I turn from my back to my side, trying to stand before he gets to me. But I don't make it in time.

"Boy!" Jiemma booms, lifting me off the floor by my bangs. "You're late!" He slams my head to the floor and then pushes his foot down on my face. "I told you not to be late!" His foot stomps down on my head repeatedly, and I begin to lose consciousness. By now my glasses have shattered, and I can feel little shards of glass embedded near my eyes. I keep them shut tight for fear of glass getting in them.

"I warned you once already," Jiemma growls, leaning down toward me, adding pressure with his foot, "to not be late." He removes his tough foot from my head and slams his heel into my jaw. "So why," he demands, "are you late?"

I can't move my mouth to answer, and Jiemma takes my silence as refusal to explain. He drags me up from the floor by the collar of my shirt and slams my back against the wall. Then he knees me hard in the stomach. Bile rises to my throat as well as blood, and I cough a mixture of the two out. Jiemma beats me over and over in various ways: kneeing, kicking, punching, and any other form he knows. I don't know how long it lasts because I become unconscious in the middle of it, but a particularly nasty slash to my cheek revives me to consciousness.

Jiemma steps back as I slide down the wall, to the floor, and crumple on my side. And then I'm being dragged across the floor, up the stairs, up the attic stairs, and into my attic-room by my two wrists. I don't even feel anything anymore. Everything is just . . . numb.

I feel my wrists being lifted above my head and something attach to my right one, then my left. It's chains I'm feeling. Jiemma has chained my wrists to a thick, wooden support beam for the ceiling. My feet touch the floor and I'm forced to stand on legs too weak to hold me up.

Jiemma then holds up a device. Not just any device—the remote to the shock-chip in my arm.

I use what little energy I have left to try and squirm free of the chains, but it's no use. I'm stuck a prisoner in this house. And I can't get free.

"No. . . Please, no," I beg.

Jiemma only grins sadistically and stuffs a gag in my mouth. Then he hits the only button on his remote, and I writhe as bolts of electricity travel through my body. Unable to scream, my eyes bulge from my face and I furiously thrash about.

Jiemma does this on and off for the next couple of hours, enjoying my unbelievable pain and suffering and despair and overall hopelessness. Not once do I see a shred of guilt in his eyes; only pure satisfaction and happiness and bliss.

Honestly, I don't think I'm going to survive this time.

So it's a miracle that I do.

I regain consciousness hours later. Well, I don't know if it's hours or days or weeks. All I do know is that I'm on the floor of my room, free from the chains that had bound my wrists. When I look out the one tiny window my room provides, I see that it's daytime, maybe late morning. I think I'll skip school today. But I still need to get out of this place.

Fighting the pain, I pull myself to a sitting position. Somehow I manage to get to my feet, leaning against the wall for support, and grab a clean pair of clothes. Slowly and painfully, I pull the new wear on and search for my glasses before I remember that they're long gone.

I barely make it down the attic staircase; I almost trip a numerous amount of times. Nevertheless, I make it down the next staircase, to the first floor, and into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I can't even describe what I look like; it's so bad. I look worse than death. Beyond pale, my skin is sickly looking, as if I was just revived from dying, and my eyes are so glazed over, they look as if they don't see anything. Then there are the cuts and bruises and gashes and swelling. There's too much to count.

I take my time in cleaning myself up. It doesn't do much, though, since I only have soap and water available to me, but every little bit will help to keep out infection. I don't know how long I am in there; I'm assuming an hour.

When I exit the bathroom I look at the clock on the wall to find that it's almost ten-thirty in the morning. Good, Jiemma is at work and Minerva is at school. I'm free of them both—for now. But I still need to leave this house.

I limp over to the front door and open it slowly. Seeing no one on the front steps, I shamble down them and to the sidewalk. I turn right and walk little by little to nowhere in particular, thinking about nothing, just wandering.

When I'm a block away from the house, I see someone. They look familiar, but they're too far away for me to tell who they are. All I see right now is blond. This leaves three options: Lucy, Laxus, or Sting.

I settle on not risking it being the latter two. I turn around just as whoever it is notices me. They yell out, their words carried away by the wind, and wave. I still don't know who it is. And as they get closer, I make a split-second decision that I don't know if my body can physically comply to.

I run.

So what'd you think?

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully it doesn't feel rushed. . .

ALSO, FOR THOSE WHO WANT A CHAPTER OUT OF LUCY'S POINT OF VIEW:

I am currently planning to make that chapter soon. But if you would like to choose which chapter is in her POV, there is a poll on my profile page for you to vote on. I would really appreciate it if you would vote so I know when to do it. Thanks.

School is busy and interfering with my schedule, but I hope to have the next chapter out soon.

'Til next time!

-AlphaDemon

Review Responses (Like always, I'll reply to guest reviews here and PM those with accounts):

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