Thank you to everyone who reviewed! This is going to be a short chapter, because it was originally quite a bit longer, but I liked the end of this portion better as a stopping point. The next chapter will be up very soon!

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The days began to blend together. My head throbbed constantly, and my wrists became bloody messes. My face was swollen from all of Skinny's "emphatic" words, and I tried in vain to wet my cracked lips. I wouldn't take his pills. I wouldn't take his food. He spoke to me, but I never answered. A constant state of confusion descended over me, and thoughts came slowly, sluggishly. They were thick and slippery and hard to hold on to. My head was full of cotton.

I sat on floor, chained to the wall once again. Fight. Run. The little voice of instinct was still there, but it was weak.

"I'm chained. How can I run?" I muttered drowsily to myself. I pulled against my restraints, and then gasped. A scab broke and blood began running down my arm. I watched it drip…drip…drip…

"Good morning," Skinny came in and locked the door behind him. "How are we today, Sunshine?"

My gaze flickered lazily towards his face and then back to the little drops of blood dotting the floor. The new routine.

"I said," he gripped my chin hard and yanked my face up, "how are you?"

I shrugged. He slugged me. My head rammed into the wall. But really, what's one more bump?

"I thought we'd decided you were going to start playing nice?" He phrased it like a question, but his glare made it clear that it was an order. I just shrugged.

"You could call me 'Daddy'."

Something in me snapped. A guttural sound escaped my lips, and I ground my teeth together. I pulled against my chains, lunging towards him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted it to be his blood that dotted this floor. I wanted to lay into him good and hard. I wished for a blade, a heater, a pipe. I wished I were more of a fighter. I wished I had the instincts, the skill, the power to drive his stupid head straight through the floor. Then the image of Soda fighting off a Soc hit my like a kick in the stomach, and I slumped over limply. Skinny pulled my face up again.

"Is that…self control?" No, it was despair. I didn't grace him with a response. "There's a reward for that, you know."

He walked out of the room, and I heard the click of the lock behind him. A moment later he was back with a big bottle of water.

"You must be thirsty."

I was. He held the bottle in front of my face, and I could feel the slight chill radiating off of it. Tiny drops of condensation dripped slowly down the sides, and my breathing got heavier. My mouth was suddenly the driest place on the planet and my tongue was just a brittle slab of flesh. My lips were shriveled and caked with blood. My skin felt tight across my face. I'd give anything…

"Call me Daddy." He grinned, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink. I moaned quietly, weak with forgotten thirst. Just say it. Just say it.

"Just say it." I can't…

Just say it. The clear liquid shimmered slightly in the dim lighting.

"Just say it."

I can't… My heart and stomach clenched painfully.

"Just say it."

"Fuck you." Fists rained down on me, but I felt oddly…victorious.

Until I realized that he left the bottle on the floor just out of my reach.

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Question! Is a Soda/Darry POV chapter in order, or are we enjoying Pony's experience?

Keep up the amazing reviews and let me know what you think. I'm extremely grateful for all constructive criticism.