HI! I was only supposed to release a new chapter every week, but I'm getting a little obsessive with the story! I would love some more reviews! Thanks so much for all your support, guys (and girls ;)) Things are going to start picking up fro here on out! Enjoy :)

Towelling himself off and getting dressed, Anakin thought back for the hundred-and-fiftieth time to the conversation he had had with Owen.

Not… their son? How…He's so much like them?

Carefully, Anakin lifted his arms up to put on the light blue t-shirt. His shoulder twinged painfully as he unintentionally twisted, trying to get his right arm into the sleeve. He hissed in pain, and quickly put on some dark blue jeans, before walking out of the bathroom.

Anakin was impressed with himself as he found his way to the kitchen first-try. It was a big house. Smelling something delicious, Anakin followed the scent to the nearby dining room, and nearly passed out with happiness when he saw the table loaded with various foods – scrambled eggs, pancakes, waffles, bacon, toast… There was even an array of drinks and juices.

"Am I in heaven?" Anakin wondered out loud to himself as he shuffled trance-like towards the table.

"Unfortunately no, but doesn't it smell bloody good?!" Cliegg clapped him cheerfully on his shoulder (his good shoulder, Anakin was relieved to know) as he quickly made his way over to the head of the table. "We usually don't do this, but Shmi likes to make people feel welcome. And, as a growing young man like you should know, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Cliegg winked somewhat… seductively?... at him.

"Eww, Dad, that's weird. Why is mum trying to get to mine and Anakin's hearts? That's pedophilia." Owen remarked casually as he breezed past Anakin and took his seat to the left of Cliegg.

Cliegg motioned to Anakin to join them at the table as Shmi gracefully floated in, carrying another tray of food.

Anakin took his place next to Owen, and waited to be told he could eat. Nobody moved until Shmi sat down and took a giant bite out of a piece of toast. Instantly, Owen and Cliegg pounced on the food, loading their plates with enough food to feed an army. Or two.

Anakin merely eyed the food, waiting to be told he was allowed to eat. Shmi glanced up at him, concernedly.

"You're allowed to eat, Anakin." Anakin glanced up at her briefly, before taking one waffle from the pile and putting it on his plate. He gingerly coated it with cream and maple syrup before noticing that the Lars' were all staring at him.

Shmi looked upset. Not upset with him… just… sad? Cliegg looked miffed, as if he couldn't understand what was happening. Owen glanced once more at Anakin's plate before deciding to do something about it.

He reached across the table to grab the full plate of waffles, then dumped all of them onto Anakin's plate, finishing off by dousing them in enough syrup and cream to drown someone.

"That's better!" Owen announced happily as he poured himself and Anakin a glass of orange juice.

Cliegg and Shmi went back to their breakfasts, content that Anakin had enough food. Anakin cocked his head to the side and counted silently how many waffles there were. 12. 12? How on earth am I supposed to eat 12 waffles?!

Glancing up with a horrified expression, Anakin caught Shmi's eye, and was relieved to hear her say,

"You don't have to eat them all. Just eat enough for you to feel full, and we won't push you." She smiled her both weird and comforting smile at him, and he felt a bit more relaxed. He then ravenously dug into the stack, devouring all the waffles so fast, his actions made Owen emit a high-pitched squawk just watching him.

-

After breakfast was cleaned up, Shmi pulled Anakin into the living room and sat him down on one of the plush soft armchairs that adorned the room. Anakin wanted to relax, but the serious, concerned look on Shmi's face made him tense, and sit stiffly upright, waiting for her to speak.

"Anakin, after observing your reactions to touch and… a few things over the last 24 hours, Cliegg and I have come to the agreement that you should be evaluated by professionals."

Anakin sat up abruptly, tensing instantly.

"What do you mean?"

Shmi took a deep breath before continuing,

"Well… we checked your medical records, and you haven't had a check-up, or a hospital visit since you were three… We've been a bit worried for you, especially concerning your mental health an – "

Anakin cut across her, his fear obvious in his voice.

"No! You can't take me there! I won't go!" Shmi flinched at the unnecessary force put behind the words, and made a placating gesture with her arms out in front of her.

"It's alright, it's alright… we'll be there with you. It's just to make sure that you're healthy."

Anakin felt his chest begin to tighten and his throat close over. No. Doctors… His parents had taken him to 'doctors' whenever he was what they deemed 'naughty'. Normally, it was when he hadn't done something they had asked of him correctly. The 'doctor' as they had called him, was an old man, covered with scars from a war Anakin had never heard of. He was known in his regiment as 'the torturer'. He would 'teach him a lesson' in return for 'credit' at his parent's brothel. The man was only referred to as 'The Doctor', and ever since he was three, was the only doctor Anakin knew.

The things the doctor did to him were horrific… physical, mental, emotional… and sometimes even sexual abuse were enough to make Anakin never want to see anyone with the title 'Doctor'.
With horrific flashbacks hitting him like waves slapping a coast, Anakin turned and ran out of the room, his throat closing over completely as panic overtook him. He stumbled through the hallways, trying desperately to drag air through to his lungs. He couldn't think straight; where was he? He looked around desperately, trying to see something familiar that would lead him back to the relative safety of his room.

Dizzy and disoriented, Anakin rounded a corner and smashed into Owen. Anakin hadn't taken a breath for about a minute, and his brain was screaming at him. He could barely hear Owen's 'are you okay?' type phrases, or the frantic calls for Cliegg and Shmi as Anakin collapsed in his arms.

He vaguely felt himself being lifted out of Owen's arms, and being laid on a soft material of some sort. He was dragging in as much air as he could, which wasn't much at all. An eternity later, someone put something on his face, which made his lungs expand fully as air spread itself throughout his system again. He passed out, finally able to breathe.

-

Anakin regained consciousness to a horrible sharp pain in his neck, and a voice telling him to wake up. He felt something on his face, and groggily put his hand up to swat it away. Before his hand could reach his face, however, it was pushed down to the bed and held there.

"Uh-uh. That's there for a reason, kiddo. Take it away and you'll be as ditzy as a Duuzak in no time."

Anakin slowly opened his eyes to see a fuzzy being above him. There were a few spots of skin that Anakin could make out through the haze of colours above him, but most of the man's face was covered with… orange, no, ginger stuff. On top of his head, as well as what looked to be his upper lip and lower face area. Blue/grey eyes stared back at him. Panic began to cloud Anakin's vision even further. The Doctor had the exact same hair and eye colour.

Hazily, Anakin was able to communicate to himself that he was in danger. The pain in his neck was being caused by the man standing over him. He tried to wiggle away, but the pain followed him. He groaned in agony, and, using any strength he could muster, grabbed the source of the pain and twisted it. This happened to be the man's arm.

When he heard a cry of pain, and the agony in his neck ceased, Anakin jumped up and pushed the man as hard as he could. The man flew backwards into a … dresser? There hadn't been a dresser in The Doctor's lair, so how… Suddenly, Anakin saw three figures to his right. They matched the look of Cliegg, Shmi and Owen.

They were moving towards him, Shmi hanging back. With a start of realisation, Anakin picked up the closest thing to him – his alarm clock - and ditched the clock at the closest figure. Owen. Owen barely stopped moving and continued forward, however a bit more slowly. Glancing around frantically, Anakin looked for the next weapon.

On the wall, Anakin saw his escape ticket: a large painting covered with glass hanging on the wall. Running over to it, he grabbed it off the wall and flipped around just in time to slam the glass as hard as he could into Owen's head. Owen finally went down, seemingly out cold, and Anakin made a move to slam the rest of the remaining glass into Cliegg's head.

He was not going to be hurt again.

Glass smashed, and Anakin heard a scream of pain as glass stuck into Cliegg's forearm. He was lucky. If he hadn't moved his hand to cover his face, he would most likely be dead. Cliegg went down on one knee, holding his injured arm.

"Leave me alone!" Anakin was crying now. The family that he thought was protecting him was having him tortured by that man again.

Shmi was in the very corner of the room, tears running down her face. Anakin couldn't understand why she was crying. She tried to hurt him.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his neck again, and he turned around wildly to see the orange-haired man behind him. He held a used syringe in his hand. Anakin realised what the man had done.

"No!" Anakin felt his legs grow weak as the room once again blurred around him. "No! Please! I didn't do anything wrong!" In a moment of delirium, Anakin screamed "No! Dad, Mum, please! No! Please! I didn't do anything wrong! What did I do wrong?!" Anakin's words slurred and his legs gave way. He felt himself be caught by someone before losing consciousness completely.