Danny had drifted back into an uneasy rest, which I was equal parts glad and upset over. He definitely needed to sleep and it was probably better for him to be unconscious, away from the pain that the strange wound was causing him. On the other hand, I was continually paranoid that something was going to happen to him – whether it be that the wound caused him to bleed out or that someone came back for him – and that fear was made worse by the fact that if I called out his name, he wouldn't answer me.

I reclined my head back against the wall and took a deep breath. I tucked my feet up under me, trying to make myself more comfortable, and just ended up tugging at my own wound. I winced, though it was definitely feeling better. I poked at my bandage, wondering what it looked like under there. I would never look; I was too freaked out by my own injuries to actually do it. Still, I wondered.

Feeling restless, I climbed to my feet and stretched. I could feel my dress sag in the front and I recalled how tight my corset had felt the night Mother had done it up. I undid the buttons on Fenton's suit jacket so that I could look down at myself. I had never been what some might consider a 'big' girl. Truthfully, I had often picked at my own body because I was so short and thin. My body had never felt natural to me and I had longed for the curves that so many other girls had possessed. Now, my body looked even more unnatural. It seemed to me that I could count every bone and I was repulsed by that. I readjusted the front of my dress and buttoned up the suit jacket again; now for modesty as well as warmth.

I turned away from the back wall, which I had been facing, to look toward Fenton, who was still lying close to the cell bars. He looked the same – tired and unaware. As I looked, I noticed something beyond his body, outside of the cell bars.

Shoes.

I looked up from the floor to see Elliot lounging outside of the cell.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Why are you so angry?" He returned casually.

I rolled my eyes at him. If that wasn't blatantly obvious to him, there was absolutely nothing I could do to help him.

"I'm not here to be antagonistic."

"Then why are you here?"

"I have something for the two of you."

I thought of the peach and the sandwich, and looked at the photographs lined against the far wall.

"What's it going to cost us?" I asked him, not sure if I was willing to pay anything anymore, though the growling in my stomach told me that there were lengths that I would go to.

"Oh, nothing," Elliot replied. "Vlad and I have begun to realize that, perhaps, we weren't treating you and Danny fairly."

"Let's see, I've been stabbed, he's been beaten to a pulp. We haven't eaten properly since we've gotten here; we're both absolutely disgusting. Prisoners have more than us – like shower time and beds. We've also been kept from our friends and family, some of whom you've murdered." I snorted. "I'd say we haven't been treated fairly."

Elliot chuckled. "Bitter is a good look on you, darling."

I didn't know what to say, and so I didn't say anything. Rather, I watched as Elliot took a step to the side, picking up a bag that he had left there. It was one of the go-green reusable grocery bags that I had forced upon my family the moment they had come out. He kneeled onto the floor and then frowned.

"You're right; this floor is filthy. We'll have to get that looked at."

I was more suspicious of him now than I would have been had he came in, fists and threats flying. I remained rooted to the spot as he unloaded the grocery bag. He put ten bottles of water between the cell bars and then he began to slide containers through the bars. They were the square plastic containers with the blue tops; the type my mother used to store leftover food in the fridge. They all appeared to be full, though of what I didn't know. He had about six of the containers, with a cylindrical green bundle sitting on top of them. Then he reached in again and pulled out a first aid kit.

"Better painkillers in here," he told me, placing it on the ground. "I think that's all for now, although I'm willing to take requests."

I didn't want to ask anything of him; I didn't even want to beg for freedom, because I knew that it wouldn't be granted. But, a request slipped from my lips before I could even think about it.

"I want pictures of my family. Please," I begged, "if you're not going to let me go then at least let me see them."

Elliot paused. "That will likely cost you. I'll talk to Vlad. I'll see you soon."

I stood, trembling, and watching him rise to his feet and collect the grocery bag. He was about to walk out of my sight when he paused.

"Oh, and Sam? Drink the bottle of water closest to me first; half to you and half to Danny. I promise good things will happen if you do."

It's probably poisoned, I thought to myself, though I didn't say anything aloud.

I waited until he was completely gone before I ventured forward to explore what he had left behind. The very first thing I did was grab the water bottle he had indicated and compare it to one of the others. I could see virtually no change between the colour of the water or the bottle itself; and when I twisted the cap on the bottle Elliot had pointed out, the seal cracked. I put the water down and crept toward the plastic containers. I picked up the green bundle. My fingers slid over the thick material, which felt like a cloth napkin from a fancy restaurant. It had been so long since I had touched something like this that it felt utterly foreign underneath my fingertips. I unravelled the cloth slowly, just enough so that I could see plastic spoons inside. I guess everything else was deemed too dangerous to give to us, though I'm not sure what Vlad thought we could do with a plastic fork.

I set the bundle down and opened the first container. The glorious scent of mashed potatoes wafted out to me. And the container was still warm. Enthusiasm zipping through me, I ran my hands along the rest of the containers. They were still warm as well. There was fresh, warm, food in here! Gasping in delight, I gathered the containers in my arms and brought it all over next to Fenton. Before I roused him, I peeked in all of the containers, trying to get a sense of what I was dealing with.

There was the potato container; the one below it was filled with fresh white rolls and several slivers of cheese. There was also a vegetable medley. The container below the vegetables contained meat; there was a hamburger patty along with several sausages. I wrinkled my nose and quickly put the lid back on that one – it was clearly meant for Fenton, not me. However, I was put into a better mood when I opened the next one. It was a veggie burger patty along with several tofu sausages. It was the last container, though, that put my already running salivary glands into overdrive.

Chocolate cupcakes!

I wasn't sure what had brought on the change of heart in Vlad. I didn't know what his motivation was in starting to feed us; in beginning to treat us better. In that moment, it was the very last thing on my mind. I put the lid back on the cupcakes. It would be better to ease into dessert; protein and all of the other important things should come first.

"Fenton," I prompted, gently shaking his shoulder. "I know it's going to suck, but I need you to wake up."

His eyes slowly opened.

"We have food!" I exclaimed, unable to reign in my giddiness. "And, oh, just a second."

I grabbed the first aid kit Elliot had left and cracked it open. I grabbed the painkillers he had mentioned and shook one into my hand.

"This will help with the pain and then you have to eat, all right?"

"Okay," he agreed. He reached up and took the pill from my fingers and then dry swallowed it.

I shuddered. I couldn't stand dry swallowing pills. I would, if I was in a pinch, but I tried to avoid it as much as possible.

"Can you handle feeding yourself?" I asked him.

"I'm not that much of an invalid," he whined. He pushed himself up against the wall so that he was mostly sitting up. "It's just my leg."

"Whatever you say," I agreed and then I handed him the meat container. "That one is just for you. The rest of it we have to share."

"Rest …" Fenton looked around, bewildered. "Where did all of this come from?"

"Elliot was here earlier."

Fenton hesitantly touched the top of the container. "Do we trust it?"

"Do we have a choice? I'm starving. This is real food. I don't know why he and Vlad decided it was time to take better care of us, I'm just glad that they did. I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

He was quiet, considering, and then he took the lid off the container I handed him.

"Holy fuck," he moaned. "That smells so good."

"Have a spoon," I said, offering him the utensil. "We are still civilized people."

"Speak for yourself," he grunted at me, picking up one of the sausages with his bare fingers.

I ignored him and reached for the vegetable container. I used my spoon to dig into the collection of corn, peas, carrots, broccoli and so much more. They were perfectly cooked, with just enough flavoring to make me feel like melting. It was one of the most wonderful things I'd ever tasted; I was coming to appreciate the flavors of things so much more after barely eating for all these weeks. I took a few spoonfuls and then continued onto my veggie burger, sinking my teeth into it. But, I only made it halfway through the patty before my chewing slowed down considerably.

I was full.

I glanced at Fenton, who was picking at the mashed potatoes, and realized that he was experiencing the same thing.

He shook his head. "Is it weird that I'm feeling bad about this? All I can think about is how, at one point, I would have been able to eat all of this and more without even thinking about it."

"I know how you feel," I sighed.

"It's just fucked up. Vlad took everything, even my ability to eat – a basic human function. Nothing is the fucking same anymore and what gave him the right?" Fenton clenched his eyes shut. "I'm just so fucking angry and I can't do anything about it."

"I understand," I assured him. "And I agree. It's so frustrating to know that we can't do anything about this."

Fenton shook his head. He tugged at his ankle restraints – unlike me, he had one on each leg.

"I wish I could just pull them off," he muttered to himself.

"You could," I pointed out. "You're strong enough to do it."

"I was. After all that's happened, I don't know …" He glanced up at me. "Anyway, I couldn't do anything like that not without hurting or killing you."

I played with my own restraint, which was still tight against my ankle, as if I hadn't lost any weight since it had been placed on me, although I knew that was a lie. If only I could pull off the metal. If only I could get my hands on Vlad's device, the one he had used to stab me. That little device would make it easy to set myself free – a virtual impossibility otherwise.

"Sorry," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"It's not your fault; none of this is. It's mine. I wish I could make some big vow and say that I'll get you out of here, but I honestly don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how to get out. I don't even know what Vlad wants. I can't promise anything."

"I think I'm better off when you don't make me promises."

"That's probably true," Danny agreed. "But, I can say one thing, and it's not a promise, it's a fact."

"And what's that fact?"

"Even if I don't get out of here, you will."

"Fenton …"

"No," he interrupted. "Don't. You don't have to, okay? Just know that."

"Okay."

Quick note you guys. If you make fanart of this story (which I highly encourage and adore) please let me know. I want to experience your art too! :)

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.

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