Here's another chapter for those of you who are so eager to find out what happens next! I'm so grateful for all of the lovely comments you've been leaving.

Thank you to Nieka2000 and DearestMrIcarus, who have been amazing as always!

Hope you enjoy, let me know if you are :)

It's the middle of the night.

At least, I think it is.

But my eyes snap open suddenly, woken by a spine-chilling noise.

A blood-curdling scream.

From many rooms away, the noise pierces the silence of the night, stealing into our cell and replacing the quiet. I sit up and hug my knees. I'm filled with nostalgia, remembering my childhood nightmares of black speckled butterflies haunting me as I slept, and how I would wake up crying in floods of tears. I remember how my mother would come into my bedroom and sit at the end of my bed. She'd tell me how everything was going to be fine, just fine, and how these things will get better. If I just see that it's a nightmare. My own imagination deciding to plague me. I feel like that little girl now. Except these screams are real.

How I long for her to be here now.

I wish that she would come and tell me now that everything would be ok, that it will get better. Because I need to hear someone say it. Anyone at all.

The screams keep on going, but I keep facing the wall. I don't want to turn around, I don't want to face the direction the noise is coming from. I don't want to be here at all. Eventually the screaming dies down, but I hate to think what is being done to quell it. Banishing the thought from my mind, I lie back down, determined to sleep again, when my ears sense a new noise. A quieter noise.

Crying.

This sound is closer to me, so I give in to the temptation and turn around.

Blond Boy is sitting up on the mattress, knees brought close to his chest, his whole body convulsing with each sob.

He's looking out of the window.

A shaft of moonlight is shining through the window and onto his face, illuminating the tears streaks on his cheeks and the cuts on his face and arms.

I'm filled with questions, so many questions, and my head if drowning in them as I try desperately to stay afloat. I want answers.

And the only way to get them, is to ask.

I walk over to him and sit down. He won't get rid of me thins time. He can shout and scream and punch and kick and protest, but I'm not moving. I'll help him, whether he wants it or not. His eyes are closed, spilling tears down his face.

I'm filled with unbelievable emotion. It injects itself into my veins, burning and rushing through my blood like a wildfire, igniting my soul until I feel like I'm on fire. This has never happened before, but the immense power gives me control. Stability. Clarity. I can feel the urge to help him root itself in my body, blossoming and flowering, making its way back through my chest and into my arms, down into my fingertips, pooling into the palms of my hands, an undying fire that I need to quench. And somehow, I know exactly what to do.

I reach forwards and press my hand on his bare arm. At which point he stiffens and turns to me, mouth wide in shock. He's waiting. What for?

But he follows my eyes to where I'm looking in amazement at what is happening. From where I'm touching his muscled arm, a white light spreads from under my hand, covering him. It's so blinding and pure, we both shield our eyes with our free hands, until the light has subsided and faded out. I snap my eyes back to his arm and lift my hand.

We both look at his arm. Astonished.

All the cuts and bruises have vanished.

I've healed him.

But I'm still desperate to see if this unbelievable power will continue, and I do the same with his other arm. A brilliant light envelopes it and when it dies down, the gashes are gone. We look once more at each other, and I look down at my hands, filled with determination. I can do this. I look back from my palms to his face and back again. I press my palms together and feel their combined warmth spread throughout my body. It's now that I focus on the need to help heal him. Closing my eyes, I pull my hands slowly apart, using every ounce of strength in my body. I open my eyes and at the same time face my hands towards his face. White light floods from my hands and caresses his face, each stroke rinsing his skin of cuts and bruises. My hands begin to shake violently with all of the power they are exerting, until there is no more light, no more scars, and no more emotion. I drop my hands into my lap and breath heavily, strangely tired.

When I've regained my breath once more, I look up to see Blond Boy's reaction, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He'd been running his fingers along each arm and along his jaw in complete disbelief, and then he is looking at me. I smile comfortingly, or at least I hope I do. I'm beginning to doubt myself, however, when I realise, he's gaping at me. I'm not sure I understand. But then it clicks. Blond Boy has no idea what I'm capable of. And to be honest, neither do I.

Also, a special thanks to Katiebug73x, Carlipedia, KaliAnn, Spideyfangirl123, Star-The-Writer and T'Lai, who have all commented recently. I really appreciate all of your support!