The loud and daunting alarm had gone off after far too long, causing Peter to jump and bump his head against the bottom of the assembly line. I could hear it as the machinery turned off for a moment, only to start back up again, louder and faster than before.

Then suddenly, Peter felt a hand tap on his foot and for a second, he went into his own mind, frightened. But when he saw Davy, crouching down in front of him with a smile, he felt his fears fade away. Everything was going to be okay, one way or another.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Peter," He asked in a whisper, making sure no one else would hear. "You just have to trust me, okay?"

He had no other choice but to trust him. Peter gave a hesitant nod as Davy helped him up to his feet. Once he was sure they were alone, Davy grabbed onto Peter's arm and made a run for it. Suspicious? Yes, but there was no way Davy could've hidden Peter if they were playing it casual. Besides his only plan was to "get Peter out." He didn't have the time to think or worry about the details. As they ran to the factory door, Peter became frightened again. He could hear everyone yelling and the sounds of screams, even if they weren't directed at him, it made him worry.

But eventually, the door slammed open and Peter was practically pushed out. He fell to the ground and heard as the door closed again, Davy banging on it and making sure it was closed before he got down onto the ground beside Peter.

"H-hey," he said softly. "How're you feeling?"

Peter felt weak, yet somehow still in pain. Davy frowned and helped him to his feet and Peter leaned into him.

"Here," Davy said, wrapping his arms around him. "I got you."

Peter sniffled and nodded, attempting to wipe his face again before Davy stopped him.

"You really shouldn't touch your face," he said sternly. "It'll only hurt more. Once we can get those out of your head, you can, but until then."

Peter was hesitant to ask what "those" was referring to but nodded. Davy smiled.

"Come on," he said, helping him begin to walk. "Let's get you home."

Micky and Mike sat there in the kitchen, a rare moment of silence between them as Mike fiddled with the radio.

"It's broken," he told him, constantly flipping through the channels. Micky sighed and nodded.

"Cause you've been here," he said. "There's no need for the radio, so it hasn't been working."

Mike looked up at him, about to ask something when he was interrupted, the front door opening.

"Where the hell have you been?" Micky asked as he heard the door turn and click open.

"Working," Davy shot back quickly, still holding onto Peter's arm as he walked in. "I had to stay late. Before you say anything, it was for a good reason."

Micky scoffed. He couldn't imagine what good reason could come from torturing himself and others.

"Oh, please, what good could come from—" he cut himself off when he looked up, noticing who he was with. Standing there was Peter, who was leaning most of his weight into Davy, just to keep standing. He was hurt, badly. Along with the bruises and scrapes on his arms and legs, there were two long cuts along his neck in a cross shape with the center being a hole at Peter's Adam's apple. The cuts were no longer bleeding but were beginning to leave scars over his throat.

It was when Micky got a glimpse of the metal bolts that were drilled into the blonde's face that he even was able to put together what had happened.

Micky stood, completely silent as he looked in between the two of them. Mike looked up, but kept his focus on Micky, confused as to what he was seeing.

"What have you done?" He asked in a dark whisper. Davy frowned and took a step back.

"I-I didn't do anything wrong," he stammered, startled by the accusation. "I got him out, I was helping him. What would you have done?"

Peter nodded quickly to defend his friend, and Micky let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"What was I supposed to do?" Davy asked, going to him. "Follow the rules and hurt him more?"

"No," Micky sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't know."

"It was a matter of life and death," Davy said sternly. "I did what I had to."

"But it was never your life on the line, Davy," Micky argued. "It was never you who was going to get hurt."

Davy didn't know how to respond, the realization coming to him. He hadn't sealed his own fate, he sealed Mike's.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, turning to Mike. "But I did what I had to. You would've done the same thing if you were in my position."

He pointed a finger at Mike, who frowned, only more confused. He looked over at Micky, hoping he could give some sort of explanation as to what was happening, but he never did.

"He shouldn't be here…" Micky muttered, falling back into his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm glad you were trying to help, but he can't be here."

"Who can't?" Mike asked, all eyes turning to him.

"Peter," Davy said quietly.

"Peter's here?" Mike's eyes widened as he looked around. But Peter was nowhere in sight. "Where?"

"Mike, what're you talking about?" Micky asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Mike. Even if he didn't want to admit it, he knew that Peter was standing right there, there was no denying it.

Mike frowned and shrugged, not knowing what else to do.

"Where is he?"

Davy gestured to the empty space beside him and Mike frowned, seeing nothing.

"Mike, I'm right here," Peter tried to say, nothing coming out. He quickly put a hand over his throat as pain overtook him. He couldn't speak, and Mike couldn't see him. It was just like he was told, he was invisible to his friends, his thoughts and feelings silenced to favor theirs. When the realization kicked in, he began to cry. Davy was quick to comfort him, but it didn't do him much good. He was better off on that damn assembly line.