Rita tended to her baby boy's wounds and bruises the best way she knew how. The two were in the family bathroom where the first-aid kits were usually kept. It was a miracle that Lincoln's beating was nowhere near severe, though he was left with a black eye and a couple of bleeding bite marks, so Rita was able to wait until Lincoln had calmed down enough for her to walk him to the bathroom. An ice pack wrapped in cloth had been gently pressed to each of his bruises, but it was obvious that the white-haired boy's mental wounds ran deeper, much more than a lasting physical wound could impact his body. Instead, his very soul was now hanging on by a mere thread.

"You're useless! That's all you'll ever be, you little twerp! All you do is literally get in our way!"

The most haunting words to ever reach his ears made his head ring. No sooner had Rita applied necessary bandages to his bleeding spots, in which it was highly likely that the twins Lola and Lana had each bitten him on his arms, than did Lincoln slowly raise his arms to grab his head.

"Lincoln?" Rita became fraught with worry and pulled him into a hug, the two of them huddled on the bathroom floor. "It's okay, sweetie, it's okay," she said somewhat frantically. "I'm here... Mommy's here..." Hearing this, Lincoln's arms went limp and as they hung as his side, he began to cry in his mother's arms until he wore himself out in exhaustion. "Sweetie... there's something I need to tell you... but try not to be shocked," Rita said. Lincoln let out several deep breaths, but listened carefully. "Your father and I... are checking you in to a child care center tomorrow morning." Lincoln's eyes steadily widened. "It might be better for your mental health if you are left in the care of... professional guidance... since we haven't been the best parents," Rita added, a bit reluctantly. They looked at each other and then Lincoln used the last of his strength to hug Rita. They held each other for what felt like hours.

"I'm sorry..." murmured Lincoln, his voice cracked with sadness.

"Why are you sorry, honey?" asked Rita compassionately.

"Because... I'm weak..."

"Honey, that's not true!"

"I couldn't be stronger! I tried so hard, but I'm not strong enough!"

"Lincoln..." said Rita sincerely as her only son sniffled. "What you did yesterday by swallowing your pride and talking to me and your father... was the strongest thing you ever did. Asking for help makes you stronger, not weaker. And that's exactly what you did. You needed help and you told us. Your father and I are proud of you."

"But... my sisters..."

"Don't worry about them," said Rita. "Deep down, I'm sure they still love you. They just haven't been the best at outwardly showing it. Your father and I will help see to that and hopefully get through to them. You were strong for us, Lincoln. Now... let us be strong for you." She wiped away some of her son's tears.

"I love you, Mom," Lincoln cried. "I love you so much..."

"I love you too, sweetheart," said Rita, finally tearing up herself. "Always have, always will."

Lincoln stood in front of the bathroom mirror before he was ready to turn in for the night. Examining where was beat up, his bruises were not swollen, so the ice worked. His black eye remained, but it looked like it would heal gradually. He walked to his room and was about to open the door.

"Lincoln." Lucy spoke softly so as not to startle her brother.

"Lucy?"

"Linc... Please let me sleep with you... please..." Lincoln simply pulled her into a one-armed hug and they both went into his room. They got into bed together. "I'm sorry for what my sisters did," she murmured. And then, in a surprising move, she kissed Lincoln on his cheek. "Good night, Linc..." Lincoln patted his little sister's head.

"Good night, Lucy," he said. With a yawn, the brother and sister fell asleep in the comfort of each other's arms.

The morning drive to Lincoln's destination was silent, as all Lincoln did was just look outside from his window seat. This was another concern to the parents, as it may have been a sign that Lincoln was likely slipping into depression.

"Lincoln, honey?" said Rita, intending to ask her little boy a question. "Do you...want to roll down the window a bit and get some air?" Lincoln actually did so, the breeze from the speed of Vanzilla blowing through his white hair. He sighed.

"Mom? Dad?" he suddenly said, still staring out the car window.

"What is it, sport?" asked Lynn Sr.

"I'm... not sure I deserve... this..." said Lincoln nervously, a hitch in his voice. "I've done terrible things..."

"You've made mistakes," Lynn Sr. corrected. "Yes. But you're not a terrible son. You've admitted many of these mistakes, owned up to them, and did your best to make up for them. I'm not sure if I recall your sisters doing the same." Rita recalled her husband yelling at their daughters briefly while she had been up in the bathroom tending to her little boy, though given the state of his mental health, his head might have been ringing at the time, so he either didn't hear the patriarch from upstairs or couldn't recall it.

"What... were... you... all... THINKING?!" Lynn Sr. had raised his voice at each of his daughters. Yes, he was aware that Leni and Lucy had no part to play in the beating of his only son, but they had been involved in just about everything else that Lincoln described while at their hotel room. "Were you even thinking?! ...Why? Just...just why?!" Apart from Lucy and Lily, the Loud sisters remembered how pissed off they were at Lincoln for effectively cancelling their big screen debuts. Initially, they believed he was merely jealous of them and tried to oust them out of spite, but reality soon began to dawn on them, and for Leni it happened faster, as she of all the sisters came to her senses first and tried to tell the others that it wouldn't be right to just throttle their only brother. Lori and Lola were trying to hold on to their anger, but only for that small spark of hope that their actions could be justified, which of course was completely bonkers and Lynn Sr.'s stern face was certainly going to let them know. "Well, I hope you're happy," the man continued. "You all knew your mother and I were gonna talk to you. And yes, it's about Lincoln. But it looks like we'll have to put that on hold until tomorrow. Hopefully, that should give you plenty of time to think about what you've done. And I seriously hope you do, because it'll make our talk much easier."

Eventually, the Loud parents and Lincoln arrived at their destination, a beautifully painted one-story building. The sign at the building read "Royal Woods Child Care for Mental Health". The vehicle pulled into the parking lot. "We're here, honey," Rita said to Lincoln. The boy and his parents walked into the building and met with the receptionist at the front desk.

"Lynn Loud Sr. and Rita Loud," the father said to her. "We're here to... to check our son in."

"Lincoln Loud?" said the receptionist. She checked some paperwork. "Ah, yes." She then pushed a buzzer on her front desk. "Miss Lone, please come to the front desk. Lincoln Loud is checking in." She then spoke to the parents. "So your son will be assigned to the care of Lyra Lone. She will escort you to the room where he'll be staying."

"Thank you," murmured Rita. The parents seemed to be feeling just about as sad as their son, almost as if they felt like they were letting him go. Of course, their feelings stemmed from his own sadness. Despite the ensuing chaos in their household, they truly never wanted anything to happen to Lincoln. And yet something did happen.

"Mr. and Mrs. Loud?" A white-haired young woman appearing to be in her mid-thirties arrived at the front desk. She wore a purple jacket over an orange shirt, light gray pants, and white shoes. Her white hair was long, down past her waist halfway to her knees. Lincoln got a good look at her, but she saw that he had been beaten up recently, despite his bruises being not nearly as visible as they were the other day. She raised her hand to her mouth, but didn't cover it.

"It's a long story," said Rita. "We'll tell you when we get to the assigned room." Lyra then lowered herself to match the boy's height.

"Hello," she said with a very nice voice. "You must be Lincoln. Nice to meet you. I'm Lyra. I'm gonna take care of you." Lincoln still didn't say anything but they did shake hands. They walked to the door of the assigned room, which was labeled "413", and they went inside. "This is where you'll be staying," said Lyra. Lincoln looked around the room. It reminded him of his own room back at home, which he recalled as a small space of comfort to stay out of the thick of things. That is, whenever his sisters weren't intruding on his privacy, which he found annoying. But this room appeared to be a little larger than his own room. This was likely because it was actually a room and not a closet converted into a room. Once inside, Lincoln's parents filled Lyra in on everything and, needless to say, she was aghast, instantly taking pity on the very sad young boy.

"You poor thing," she said to him. "Can I give you a hug?" Lincoln nodded sadly and Lyra did so. "I'm so sorry to hear this. You seem like such a nice, sweet boy. I'd like to see that in you... one of these days."

"Lincoln," said Rita. "You'll be in good hands. We'll come pick you up in a month, okay?" Lincoln looked down at the floor and after a few seconds, he started sniffling. Then he started to cry. "Oh, Lincoln, it's okay." Rita bent down and hugged her crying son. "It's okay," she cooed. Lynn Sr. joined in the hug.

"We'll see you again, sport," he said. "We promise." After they separated from their hug, it was time for the Loud parents to leave. They had to get back home to lecture their daughters, maybe even put them in their places.

"Bye, honey," said Rita. "Lyra's gonna take care of you." As she and her husband left the room, Lyra held both of Lincoln's shoulders.

"Don't worry," she said sweetly. "You're in good hands. I promise."

A half-hour later, back at the Loud residence, the rest of the Loud family sat around the living room. It was time for a family talk that would change lifestyles, as hopefully what became of Lincoln would be the wake-up call that the parents would answer and gain the incentive to finally dish out some long-awaited discipline.