A.N.: Two chapters in one day! I really feel bad for Haya-chan... but I really like how this is turning out.

Warning: This is a really messed up and disturbing chapter, and the next one will most likely include more disturbing events has Haya-chan recounts the six horrors she suffered while she was captive.

Summary: Haya-chan goes through another session of psychological therapy, and even her shrink is disturbed about what happened to her.

I've become accustomed to the pain that accompanies my PT training. It's the psychologist visits I dread the most. The woman makes me relive every single agonizing moment of my captivity – what's worse is she's helping me make it into a private book for myself, entitled Never Forget. As if I'll ever forget that…

As much as I hate reliving the experience though, I can tell by writing the thoughts down, by getting them out of my head, I can rest easier. I have fewer nightmares, and I can actually describe a bit of what happened to me to fellow patients without freaking out.

I'm five weeks into my six-week stay, and I'm finally out of the wheelchair. I can walk on my own two feet again. I am stronger, and more determined.

I'm currently sitting out in the garden, most of my shoulder-length hair pulled back, working on more of my book. I'm almost done recording what happened to me, and I can tell that even my shrink is disturbed by the details of what I suffered through last year.

It's taken me a while to recover from my physical injuries, but now that I'm almost 100% again, I'll be back training and protecting Jyuudaime soon enough. Depressingly, I'm actually looking forward to going back to Namimori. I miss the fairly routine lifestyle I held, although routine is the worst possible thing for a Mafioso like me.

The steady, fast-paced click-clack of heels on pavement alerts me to the approach of my shrink. I've grown to like her, although I still mostly hate her. She's not like previous shrinks I've had. She actually knows what she's talking about.

I don't look up until she sits across from me, smiling. "Good afternoon, Haya-chan," she says softly, in her annoying therapist voice.

I grunt in greeting, before going back to writing. She watches me write for a moment before she speaks again.

"It's gotten easier, hasn't it?"

I look up in surprise – she can tell that just by watching me?

She takes the journal from me and flips back to the beginning. "Look here. Your handwriting was shaky and nearly illegible in some parts." She flips back to where I am now. "And here, it's clear and steady. You've improved."

I look down at my even writing. "Yeah… Guess so."

She smiles sympathetically – I hate it when people look at me that way – and pats my hand. "Can you read me what you wrote today?"

I glance around – there are other patients around. "Let's go back to my room," I say, "because this isn't something anyone else needs to hear."

She looks a little surprised, but follows me as I walk steadily back to my room. She doesn't even question it when I lock the door behind us, and put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on my doorknob.

I sit down on my air mattress bed and open my journal to where we left off the other day. I take a deep breath, and then begin to read.

He finally removes the thoroughly soaked, blood-stained rag from my face and leers at me. "Not so tough now, are you, little Storm Guardian?" I resist the urge to spit in his face – I already tried that once, and was rewarded with an on-land drowning experience.

"Fuck you," I cough out, glaring daggers.

And he just laughs. "Ohhoho, feisty! Don't worry, I'll smother that fighting spirit of yours soon enough."

"Like hell you will!" I shout and buck against my restraints. They give a little, but not enough for me to get free.

He says nothing, but turns away instead, facing the fireplace where a small fire is burning. I follow his gaze and try to hide my fear. 'Not the fire,' I silently beg, 'dear God, please not the fire!' The burns I had acquired from my first acquaintance with the scalding iron brand still burned fiercely.

He looks down at the ornate watch clasped around his wrist. "You are lucky today, my pet. I have somewhere to be. Tomorrow though, it will be just you and I…" He smiles, his pearly white teeth flashing, and storms out of the room, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind him.

And despite my hardened resolve and determination to not break, to hold out as long as I can, I break down as soon as the door slams. I can't take this any longer.

I've written more, but I need to get a drink, and I know my shrink wants to talk. I get a glass of water, and wait for her to begin.

"Was that the last…" she pauses, "humane torture?"

I snort. "Che… If you can even call that humane. But yeah, it got worse after that. If I didn't give him the reaction he wanted, he made the pain increase tenfold until he got it."

She nods and waits until I continue, refraining from commenting.

I don't know how or when, but I managed to fall asleep, and am rudely awakened by the door slamming open again. It must be morning, and he's returned for the day. Fuck.

I blink rapidly to clear my eyes and watch him as he walks around, gathering a few tools here and there, setting a few down, picking up a different one, until he finally decides on a small wooden box. I don't know what's in the box, but I've heard it make noises when I'm alone. Something alive is in there.

I suppress a shudder and stare at him defiantly. I don't care what I go through; the pain is nothing to me. I say that now, and yet when whatever is in the box burrows beneath my skin, I scream louder than I thought possible, writhing against my restraints, tears wetting my cheeks. I've never felt anything like it. The pain started in the heel of my foot, and it felt like hot liquid metal was slowly crawling up my leg, into my bloodstream, towards my heart, towards my head. I have no sense of time, no sense of pain, aside from the line of pain crawling through my body.

I think I pass out, because when I next blink my eyes open, I just feel a dull ache all over. Whatever was eating me is gone, and so is my captor. I struggle to hold in my emotions, struggle to not let the tears fall. My throat is raw from screaming. If I have to go through something like that again… No matter how strong I am, I will be broken.

I don't even have to look up to know my shrink has a horrified look on her face, like she's trying not to throw up. I'm not surprised. I nearly did when I was writing that part. I still have another two small pages covered with writing, but I don't know if she's up for anymore today.

"Haya-chan," she whispers, and I look up, closing the journal as I do so. "I had no idea…"

I shrug, not meeting her gaze. "You're the first to know the whole story. I've never told anyone before you."

"And you've been dealing with these memories for a year?"

I shake my head. "No, only for about the past six months. I refused to let myself think about what happened when I was still in bad condition out in Italy."

She swallows and says nothing. "I think we're done for today," she says quietly. She tries to hide it, but I know she's severely disturbed. I don't blame her, I really don't. I dread the day when Yamamoto finds out what happened exactly. Because of what happened to me, I'm terrified of how he will react when he knows the details.

Minutes later, she leaves, and I leave my door open to let in fresh air. I look down at the closed journal in my lap, and sigh. I know I need to write more, but reading aloud the first of six horrors I suffered took a lot out of me. I lock the journal in my drawer, and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I slowly stretch out my limbs, stretching out the stiffness that built up while I had sat. A light knock on my door draws me out of my tranquil state, and I see one of my nurses with my daily dose of medication.

I sit up with a sigh and take the meds without complaint. I am about to lay back down when the nurse surprises me. "You have a visitor, Haya-chan."

I meet her level gaze, not bothering to conceal my shock. "I thought I asked that I not have visitors so I could focus on my rehab."

She smiles knowingly. "He has been very persistent. He has visited every day, to try to come visit you. Since you are on your last week…" She shrugged. "It you're okay with it, I'll send him up."

I look at my hands. "Yeah, go ahead," I say, my voice cracking a little. "Send him up."