Time was ceasing to be a concept that Isabella understood in any capacity. She'd been put out by Terra a number of times and had no idea how long she'd been in this room tied to a chair. It could have been a week for all she knew and based on her stiff muscles and back pain, that wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. She'd eaten twice though that she could recall so perhaps it was actually a shorter amount of time than that.

Anxiety was taking its toll. The girl had been in a few times and Isabella found herself on edge. She didn't know what information they wanted out of her and no matter what she said, it didn't stop. The dark fears inside her continued to play out in front of her eyes. Melone had come to her some of these moments, and the things he'd said to her and done in her presence would have left her sleepless had she not been put under by Terra. In short, Isabella was terrified. She had no consolation as to when she would leave, or if she would even make it out of here alive. What if they decided she didn't know anything? She'd seen their faces now, would they let her go free, especially since she was connected to Melone and Risotto?

Isabella had long since given up escape attempts. She wasn't strong enough to try to break free of her bindings and every time someone came in, Tulmine was always in tow to zap her stand. They were certainly prepared to detain her as long as they needed to. She could only hope that this hell would be over soon.

She inhaled her second line of powdered euphoria and flipped her long hair back as she sat back on the couch. Andréa didn't let her take her meds again today. She wanted her stand to be extra powerful which meant Caramella would be in full force today. She knew she shouldn't but she just didn't want to hear all the degrading comments in her ear today, the ones about Andréa just using her for her stand ability. Being high made her feel more confident and it shut Caramella up.

Caramella had always been with her for as long as she could remember. She supposed there must have been a time when she wasn't but Angela had been so young then. Their father had gotten custody when their mother had been deemed unfit to care for them. Their mother had been committed to a hospital for paranoid schizophrenia when she was a child. Their father who had been a drug addict was strung out half the time and ignored when Angela began exhibiting similar symptoms. Tulmine who was six years older had gotten work selling drugs in the streets in order to take care of her and Terra. Angela was sixteen when she'd first tried cocaine. She'd heard all about it from her brother's friends and decided it might help her feel better. She'd been self-medicating ever since.

It was only recently that Andréa had gotten her hands on actual antipsychotics and began administering them to Angela. Even when she did take it, she still found herself here at the table, self-medicating. She much preferred the feeling she got this way. The meds stopped the symptoms but left her feeling dulled emotionally, so she would end up doing more coke to offset. It also helped her to feel more confident around Andréa. Her comments didn't hurt as much when she was high. Andréa could be demanding but Angela knew her girlfriend loved her. Andréa had helped them all by giving Tulmine such a high position in her gang. Terra and Angela were also offered similar securities, and then Andréa had taken an interest in Angela.

There was nothing subtle about Andréa's advances. When she wanted something, she took it, and Angela was quickly swept off her feet. She said all the things that Angela needed to hear: she was beautiful, that she mattered, that she wasn't crazy. Angela had always been scared that she would become like her mother. Their mother had been hospitalized after she insisted that Tulmine wasn't her son and attacked him. Angela loved her siblings, they did everything to protect her and shield her from the harshness of this life they now led.

Andréa entered the room and Angela looked up at her and smiled. She looked beautiful with her chestnut hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Then she noticed her blue eyes were livid. Andréa strode across the room and yanked Angela to her feet. Angela began to stutter an explanation when Andréa slapped her in the face.

"What the fuck, Angela? I asked you one thing! I needed you icy!" Andréa yelled. Angela held her face. Andréa had never hit her before. She tried so hard not to cry, she didn't want Andréa to be upset with her. "There's a chance that Risotto's men are closing in on us and we have to be on high alert until we can finish what we started! Now the doctor's mental state is weakened significantly. Since she doesn't appear to know anything, I've changed plans."

Looks like those anger management classes haven't helped at all, Caramella said. Angela really needed the drug to kick in, she was starting to feel it but not fast enough.

Shut up, just please, shut up.

But you need me. Andréa needs me more than she needs you.

"We are sending the doc back in the charge of Zombie Girl. That way we can get first-hand information relayed back here. Ultimately, I want the doc to get close to Giovanna, and then we can just take control that way. It would be much smoother than taking out the Don altogether."

Angela just bit her lip and nodded.

"So sober the fuck up and be ready when I need you! Fucking addict..." Andréa huffed under her breath as she turned to walk out.

What do you think she's going to do to you once she has control of Giorno? She won't need you anymore. Why would she keep you around? You're nothing but a worthless drug addict. She could have anyone she wants, and Andréa always gets what she wants.

She felt jittery and she needed release. There was only one way she knew of to get it all out of her system, and there was a perfect candidate in the basement at that very moment. Angela left the room and went down to the basement without consulting anyone first. She didn't give a fuck right now.

She just wanted Caramella to stop.

She walked in fire and night, each step brought the nightmare closer, Caramella at her ear. She would make this one memorable. She wanted to break out in a sweat when she recalled this later. She strode through the door and the heavy steel latched behind her. The doctor was awake but had no real awareness about her. Angela's presence briefly registered as a flicker of recognition but quickly lost interest.

Angela wanted to bask in her screams, to make something more insignificant than herself suffer. Reflecting one's own pain in the body of another, the fear in their eyes as she wove the nightmare within their soul, it was something that Angela relished in. It was the only time her creative mind could be appreciated for what it was—twisted, dark, and sadistic.

Kill Kitty came at her summoning and curled around her fingers comfortingly. They knew what was to be asked of them. She struck the doctor's cheek, drawing a sanguinary smile across the pallid flesh. The doctor barely winced. She was truly almost to her breaking point. Angela would push against that crack to watch it break. That critical snap in a person's sanity, making her target no more coherent than herself.

The adrenaline coursed faster through the doctor. She would not cut her more than once. It lasted so much longer that way. The blood would speed up with the adrenaline causing the person to bleed out in a quick and spectacular way. No, she didn't wish to kill, only to maim. Break a will. She had done it several times now at Andréa's beckoning, and she found pleasure in the action.

The fear was taking effect—fight or flight initiated. She felt the cold fears of phobia and memory formulate before her. She perused the choices. She knew the doctor was developing a particular trepidation for one of her patients. She selected the La Squadra assassin to continue his assault on her mind. Oftentimes, she would let the stand do this process automatically, but sometimes, when Angela was feeling playful, she would craft these terrors herself. After having decided, she sent Caramella to whisper sweet paranoias into the doctor's mind. It was the only thing she was good for. It was also the only time she was relieved of Caramella's presence when she used her stand. It was freeing and hence, torture was an addiction all it's own.

Fugo turned over on the couch and briefly opened his eyes to see Melone sitting crisscross in the armchair watching him. Risotto had let him crash on the couch for the night. Ghiaccio hadn't seen the point in him going home since he'd just have to return early in the morning, and Fugo agreed. It was better than having to face his teammates after the debacle earlier. He felt embarrassed that Risotto had been the one to make the call to Bucciarati, but he certainly thanked him for it. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Melone didn't have his mask on, there was something off about his appearance.

"Melone?" Fugo mumbled.

"You're Ghiaccio's best friend," Melone said quietly. Fugo blinked a few times and squinted into the dark to try to see him better.

"Well, I don't know if he considers us 'best,' but he's certainly one of my closest." Fugo ran a hand through his hair.

"I tell him a lot of things, but there are some things about me I can't tell him," Melone said. His stare was intense and Fugo wondered if this was about his admission earlier in the evening.

"I can understand that. Some things you hold inside you, they aren't meant for anyone else," Fugo said.

"But I want them to be...I don't want to hide. I want Ghiaccio to know. There are things about me he doesn't understand."

"Then maybe you should talk to him about it," Fugo offered. He knew Melone could be weird based on what Ghiaccio expressed, and staring at Fugo sleep at three in the morning waiting for him to wake to have a heart-to-heart was certainly up there. Fugo didn't hold it against him though, he could clearly see this was keeping Melone up, and talking was the only way he was going to get some sleep.

"I don't think I can," Melone murmured.

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't understand. I don't want to push him any further away, and I know I'm already on thin ice with him." Melone fidgeted with his hands while he spoke. Thin ice? If what he saw on the couch earlier was any indication, that was not where Melone stood with Ghiaccio at all. His perception of things is skewed. Maybe that was one of the things that made Melone as odd as he was. Perhaps he misinterpreted things often.

"You're not on thin ice. Ghiaccio cares about you. A lot. Maybe you just don't see it; he can be very brusque with people." Fugo didn't know all of their interactions but he could imagine perhaps Ghiaccio had given Melone the wrong impression. Ghiaccio was fighting his attraction to Melone so hard, so that wasn't impossible. He also recalled the reasons Ghiaccio had mentioned being in anger management in the first place, so maybe Melone had reason to worry.

"He talks to you about things. He trusts you. I trust you too," Melone stated. Fugo was taken aback by that. He'd barely interacted with Melone and yet he proclaimed to have trust in Fugo. Another person placing their trust in him when Fugo believed to be undeserving of it.

"But I haven't earned it," Fugo argued.

"You helped Ghiaccio when no one else could. I'm happy you could be there for him when I couldn't." Melone sounded sad. "You also said I could talk to you."

"And I meant it." Fugo nodded. Melone stared at him, thinking of his next words while Fugo looked at Melone's eye again. He never really noticed it before because his mask made everything a translucent pink, but it was a different color than his left eye, lighter, almost cloudy looking. He couldn't be sure in the dark but it looked like something was off about it. Melone suddenly covered his eye.

"I'm sorry, I know it's gross. I just...forgot to put my mask on," Melone said sheepishly and looked down.

"No, I mean, there's nothing wrong with it..." Fugo shook his head and waved his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. That was impolite of me," Fugo apologized, collecting himself. Melone bit his lip and slowly removed his hand.

"I'm blind in my right eye. Ghiaccio doesn't know that. Risotto does. That's why I fight long distance—I don't have great depth perception." Fugo wasn't sure what to make of that information. Not even Ghiaccio knows? Has he never taken his mask off in front of him? Maybe that's why he's so physically close to people and touchy. He can't judge the distance? "My sister says it's ugly and she's right. It's awful to look at, I'm sorry."

"Melone, I don't care about how it looks. It doesn't bother me. We all have things we hate about ourselves. I hate my stand," Fugo admitted.

"It's so powerful, though. You could easily win against mine," Melone said.

"But I can't control it. I hurt everyone I care about. I can't fight with my team or I could kill them. I almost killed you and Ghiaccio today. I'm not immune either. When fighting with Purple Haze, I have to be constantly aware of where I am so I don't get infected. I have no control, and I hate it. I wish I'd never gotten my stand."

"But then you wouldn't have met Ghiaccio," Melone pointed out.

"That's a very positive way to look at it…" Fugo acquiesced.

"Ghiaccio says that. That I'm positive. I feel like I have to be. Or I'll break into tiny pieces." Melone smiled and picked at his nails. "That's funny because of how broken I already am."

"You don't seem broken," was the only thing Fugo thought to say.

"You're a lot nicer than Ghia. You lie to protect people. He tells the truth, even when it hurts." Melone bit his lip again. That resonated with Fugo. He had lied to Bucciarati a lot to protect him as Giorno had said. He never felt great about doing it but he felt it was a necessary evil. Melone continued to muse aloud, "It's not a bad thing. Risotto does it a lot. Lies to us about stuff. He knows it won't help us to know the truth so he just...keeps it to himself. He's a great guy."

"He's a good leader," Fugo agreed.

"Do you have siblings, Fugo?" Melone asked suddenly.

"Yes, two brothers."

"Do you love them?" Melone asked. That was certainly a question. His older brothers had always bullied him over the years. They didn't get the same treatment as Fugo because he was incredibly blessed intellectually. Their parents had placed all their hopes into Fugo and his brothers resented that. He'd similarly resented them but to say he didn't love them? Just another reason he hated his parents, they caused this animosity between them and he believed it would be something that lingered in the back of his mind for the rest of his life.

"I mean, they're my family, I guess."

"Family isn't always blood, and love isn't always where it's expected," Melone replied. Fugo wasn't sure where any of this was going and he really needed to sleep for the mission in a few hours.

"I suppose not, on both accounts," Fugo said. "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Melone?"

"I really hurt you today, and I'm sorry about that. I do a lot of shit that I don't mean to. I don't know how to get close to people. So I'm physical. It's the only way I know how to be. I sleep with people a lot. Illuso calls me a slut and I probably am. I just like when people want to be with me. Sometimes I don't really want to have sex, but I know it will clear my mind for an hour and make me feel better. Just feeling the body of another person makes me feel...like maybe I can be whole." Here it was. This was the reason Melone was staring at him waiting to talk for...god knows how long. He thought it best to let him word-vomit until his mind was assuaged.

"I know I'm weird but I don't know how to be any other way. Ghiaccio is one of the few people that always seemed unfazed by me. Sure he gets mad at me but it wasn't like it is now. I know I provoke him sometimes by saying or doing things but now he blows up at me over things that I can't figure out." Maybe he's taking out his feelings on you. He's so distraught about liking you that he resents you for it subconsciously. Ghiaccio had gotten mad that day when Melone thought he and Fugo might be together. Ghiaccio was adamant about Melone not thinking that. Because he wants to be with you. He doesn't want you to think he's unavailable. And yet he continues to push you away.

"I don't think anyone could love me," Melone continued. "I'm too messed up, and the only person I've ever loved is probably the reason why I am the way I am." Melone blinked and tears fell down his face. He looked back at Fugo. "I've never told anyone this, Fugo. I've never said the words out loud, but I know I have to."

Fugo leaned forward and listened intently.

"My sister sexually abused me." Melone hollowly stared at the floor with eyes wide. He looked back up at him.

Fugo grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry."

"But I love her."

"She's still your sister," Fugo said.

"No." Melone took a deep breath. "I'm in love with her."

Fugo stared at Melone. He'd heard of this before. He'd read about this.

"Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?" Fugo asked. Melone shook his head. "It's when you develop feelings for your abuser. It happens to people. You're not weird or messed up for it, Melone."

"But she's my sister…" he said quietly.

"I know, and I can't imagine what that's like for you. I was abused by my professor but I hated him for it. I couldn't fight back. You couldn't either but for different reasons—you wanted her to like you." Fugo gripped Melone's hand tightly.

"Yeah, I did." Melone blinked repeatedly as he took a deep breath.

"I have a lot of anger in me because of that. I mean, I had it before too, but that was the tipping point for me. When enough was enough. I promise it's going to get better. It still bothers me, but I'm trying not to let it control me. Anger Management is helping me realize that. Just keep talking to your therapist. You'll sort it out. I know you will, Melone."

"I was going to talk to her about it yesterday but she wasn't in. Then Gelato, and today...it's bringing a lot of stuff back."

"I can imagine; it's been a really stressful time around here for you guys. Gelato's your friend right?"

"My best friend after Ghia." Melone sniffed. He really holds Ghiaccio in high regard. That bodes well for Glass.

"Does Ghiaccio know that he's your best friend?"

"I think so. I don't know." Melone steadied his breathing. Fugo knew he couldn't interfere with what was going on between them; he could offer advice but nothing more. He had to let them work it out for themselves otherwise the relationship they had wouldn't be as strong, and he wanted that for Ghiaccio. He wanted his friend to be happy.

"Well, you should probably get some sleep, Melone. You'll be tired tomorrow otherwise, unless there was more you wanted to say." Fugo let go of his hand.

"No, you're right. I've kept you awake long enough." He stood up and turned to go but stopped to look back. "Thank you for listening to me, Fugo. I understand why you're Ghiaccio's best friend." Fugo swung the blanket off of him and stood up. He wanted to express how meaningful this had been to him in a way that he knew Melone would understand.

He hugged him.

"You're my friend too, Melone." Fugo squeezed him tight and he heard Melone cry. "Don't sell yourself short. You're definitely one of Ghiaccio's closest, if not, best friends. He loves being around you. Even if he sucks at showing it."

Fugo pulled away from the embrace and Melone looked down and back up again, eyes full of tears. "Thank you." He turned and headed back upstairs. Fugo laid back down and pulled the blanket over him. He heard a door open and a voice whisper.

"Melone?" It sounded like Ghiaccio. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Fugo didn't hear a response.

"Do you wanna stay in my room?" Ghiaccio asked quietly.

Again, Fugo didn't hear anything but Melone must have nodded his head because he heard Ghiaccio say, "Come on," and the door close. He hoped that Melone was feeling better sleeping next to Ghiaccio, maybe he would even say the things he needed to say.

The house was silent after that.