Chapter warning:

While I do not delve into major/graphic detail of the situation at hand, this chapter does involve triggering content. From paragraph 30 to the end of the chapter I would not read if you are sensitive to depictions of sexual assault.

Must. The air is thick with old wood and mildew. Something she's never quite smelled before. Bingo doesn't know what happened. But her head hurts. Her mind is swaying as her eyes are blinking open. All she can really make out in the dimness is wooden beems illuminated by streetlights.

The rain is still present. That she remembers. But the noise is booming right overhead. Was she… in an attic? She's only ever been up to her own a few times but not enough to know her way around such a structure.

As she comes to, her feeling is also regained. Her wrists are cuffed in heavy metal. Both free from each other, but when she moves she can barely move around like this. And that's another thing. When it's settled in her that she's stuck. That she needs to call for help. Her muzzle tries to open but… it's held firmly in place. She's seen muzzles before used on psyche patients in movies. But usually that could talk. Bark. Just not bite. But this muzzle is so tight any movement brings tears to her eyes. Where is she? Where's here dad? Mom? Sister?

Ears flatten against her head and she's pressing back against a wall. Hearing the nasty wire spring creak of some kind of mattress that she's undoubtedly on. At least it's not hardwood floor. And there she goes again, trying to find some sort of good in this terribly dark situation she's gotten into.

She hears a shift from somewhere else in the room. Her heart races. Was it the person who put her up here? She squints. In the dark, she can't tell. Can't make out much shaping either.

But then she hears noises coming from elsewhere. A loud clunking getting closer and closer. It's far scarier than the rain. She closes her eyes, braces herself, holding her breath from whatever terrifying creature has her muzzled and chained.

There's a click. And from the back of her eyelids she knew a light had turned on. Not a bright one at all. Dim.

"Fuck." That was Lucky's dads voice. Was he here too? "It's alright Bingo."

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. She's trembling. Why is she so afraid? Is he not here to help her?

There's a hand on her head. It's familiar and for a brief, fleeting moment, it feels comforting. Then it stays there. Gently petting her until she finally opens her eyes.

As she feared, there's Pat petting her head. Not taking her chains or muzzle off. Not telling her he'll take her home. But instead he's there. Petting and petting. Nasty breath becoming heavier and heavier.

There's more clicking somewhere nearby. Like a bed. Chains. The muffled sounds of someone trying to speak and make too much noise. Pat growls. Bingo wants to shut her eyes again. But she needs to know. Who else is here. Once her turns she sees him clearly now.

Mackenzie is moving his bed and pulling his chains. Sporadic. Almost purposely.

What is he doing?

She can't see the look on Pat's face, but it's like his anger bleeds through the walls.

"I told you to shut up you brat." She watches him grab her poor collie friend by his own muzzle trap, throwing him to the wall. There's a noise of pain from him. Bingo squints further. It is dim here.

How long had he had Mackenzie? She tries to think hard. Her and Mackenzie don't go to the same school just yet. And Bluey hasn't mentioned anything about it. But she does remember a conversation she overheard some time ago. Maybe a month?

I want to help find him.

I can't risk losing you too, let the authorities take care of this.

Bingo wishes she had asked more questions. Her curiosity always got the better of her at the worst of times. Why hadn't she asked what her sister was on about. Perhaps she didn't care at the time and simply wanted her to feel better. Better. She wishes this could get better.

But when Pat turns back to her, she knew it could only get worse from here.

"I brought you a friend so be grateful." He points. "An obedient friend, isn't that right Bingo?"

Bingo looks at him with fear. And all she can do is nod her head slowly. Agreeing.

"Good." Pat breathes out and comes back to her. She presses herself against the wall. Mackenzie is watching them. He squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again. Was he telling her to close her eyes?

He doesn't have to do it again. Bingos eyes are squeezing shut and her body tensed the moment the bed is weighing down by him. "Sorry if it's a bit uncomfortable, these used to be my boys."

The sports ball print sheets already told her that.

He's touching her. Bingo tries to cry but nothing comes out. She's immobile.

He didn't do much more than that. Petting her fur, playing with the fluff of her tail. Holding her despite the chains. It's sickening. Her stomach is wrecked with nausea. This was. This was disgusting. Her body knew it.

Was this all he wanted. To hold his kids again? Bingo could sympathize with that but… but she knew it. It wasn't just a friendly or parental hold. This was…

Her held breath releases. He's moved off the bed. Away from her.

"Aw, see, I knew you'd be a proper boy."

Her eyes open. Mackenzie is. What is he doing? Hands against the wall, looking over his shoulder at Pat. Not her. Pat.

Bingo knew she was innocent. That she didn't quite understand. But she was also smart. And soon she found out just why Mackenzie wanted her to close her eyes. To spare her. Just in case. In case she had to be in the same position he is now.

One time, Bingo watched as a poor turtle met its untimely demise when met with a semi-truck. And even if she knew what would happen to the poor thing, she couldn't look away. Like the time her sister cut her knee open after a bike accident. She can't look away.

The rain gets louder. And for a brief moment it outweighs the sound of the creaking bed.

In all this there is no victory. Maybe a small one. She watches him slowly un hook the leather of the muzzle. Lets it fall off of Mackenzie's face. And oh how terrible his mouth looked.

"What do you say?"

Bingo doesn't want to hear another sound. She doesn't want this. Her hands can reach her ears to muffle it. But she can make out the words just as easy. And like that she's closing her eyes shut again.