Thanks for all the reviews, guys. You are amazing! You can al give yourself a pat on the back.

Now came my mysterious guest-reviewer with the question: what about Leo and Donnie? And when she asked that I was like 'damn it! I totally forgot those guys!' So yeah, what about Don and Leo. I'm not sure yet but I guess I can give them some appearances during this fic. I need them in the end at least. But I'll see how it goes and maybe I can come up with something for them.

Anyways, have fun with this new chapter full of chaos and some mental torture.

Chapter 4: the stain

We've been sitting in this cell for days now. Sometimes they come and get Mikey to beat him up some, but nothing as serious as the acid and the electricity. They'll drag him into the hallway and punch and kick him till he's unconscious. He's tried to fight back multiple times but with two or three against one, he's always overpowered. Especially because they electrocute us before taking my baby bro.

They always have me watching it and I always pay close attention. Not that I like seeing my brother that way, it's even the opposite. However, if I know where they hurt him the most, I can calm him down better when he wakes up, screaming from a nightmare. Because that is what happens whenever he falls unconscious when being tortured. He only sleeps soundly when being pressed against my side. Like he is now.

"Raphie?"

I turn my head downwards and see two foggy blue eyes staring up at me. His voice is a little croaky and sounds dry. We haven't been given anything to eat or drink other than a bottle of water every morning. It's never enough but when I try to give Mike some of my share, he always declines. I know he needs it though because of all the blood he's losing. He lost a fair amount because of the acid torture and now always loses some when being beaten on. He's getting paler by the day.

I feel how Mike sits up next to me, making soft sounds of pain when moving his body. The wounds of the acid are still bothering him and every now and then he'll start twitching again which makes his sore muscles from the beatings extra painful. I'm still worried about the amount of electricity his body might be able to take though. They keep sending currents through us whenever they want to beat the senses out of him. Not to mention the hours of electricity he had to endure a few days ago.

The sound of the metal door at the end of the hallway opening, vibrates through our cell. I hear soft whimpers coming from my younger brother and I give him a soft squeeze. They already bashed on him today but you never know with these guys. What I do know is that Mike's terrified every single time he thinks he hears something. The fear is just too much for him. He's brave when they take him out and hit the shit out of him. He never even makes a sound. No it's not the pain, just the fear. Yesterday he told me that he the thing he was the most afraid of, wasn't even them killing him, but being here on his own. That they would kill me or that I would just leave him one way or another. The numbskull. I could never leave him. I could never betray him. We do this together or we might as well just die right here, right now.

Another clash and the Italian dude is standing in front of us. His head is in front of the lightbulb which casts us a little bit more in the dark. I can't see his face because of that but I know he's smirking down on us. Thinks he's all high and mighty. If he would just come in this damn cell and face us, he would see who's king down here.

I stand up, not wanting to show any weaknesses, prisoner or not. Mike immediately follows my example albeit with shaky legs. I can't blame the kid. They twisted his knee the other day. And made him cough up blood by kicking him right in his throat. It took him hours just to stop hacking. That was a bad day. We didn't even get water then and his teeth and lips were red for the whole night.

"How nice to see you again, my dear animals," the creep spoke up. "Everything's going well I assume?"

I growl but he doesn't even look into my direction. His face is completely drawn towards the battered body of my youngest brother. The joy the damage is causing him, makes me only more angry. I step in front of Mikey and fall into a fighting stance. Let him try and hurt my brother again. I ain't stopping yet.

"Now if you would just be so friendly, Red, to step aside so I can feed you both. According to my minions, it's important to feed your animals."

I don't make a move and keep shooting daggers at the man. How dare he call us beasts. We've always considered ourselves human and whenever someone doesn't treat us like that, I see red.

"Do we really have to do it this way?" The man tsk-ed and flips a remote in between his fingers. Before either Mike or I can say something, we're lying on the floor again, a current of white hot fire flowing through us. It isn't as strong as the Joes, as Mikey came to call them, used though.

When the current is off the guy comes inside the cell and immediately moves over towards Mike. A knife is pulled out of his shirt and the blade is pressed against my little brother's throat. I can see the bruises of when they stamped on him there, still clearly against his green skin. His eyes look at me, fear clearly readable and tears slowly forming. He's never been in such a position before. None of us have. Sweat drizzles down my face. One move and it is over for him.

"Don't," I say, before even being able to think of it. "Don't you dare."

The man's smile comes back, his white teeth glistering in the pale light from the hallway. "Oh dear turtle, I won't. At least not if you do as I tell you to."

I don't say anything. There isn't anything for me to say other than some very colourful words. I won't however, endanger Mikey by doing something as stupid as that.

"Now come forward," the black-haired man says. "And take this knife."

Another knife is thrown at the dirt floor. It's a fairly small one, unlike the blade pressed against my baby brother's neck. To advance in an attack now, would be a very stupid move. No way I can protect Mike, or even myself, with this.

"Mark your brother."

WHAT? Mark my… Yeah right. Is this dude totally insane. I would never use a knife on my brother. Never.

Another growl ripples from my throat and I have the urge to lunge at the man. His blade, however, presses so close into Mikey's skin, that droplets of blood start to form.

"Do it," his voice is full of poison, the sound harsh. "Do it or he dies."

I don't make a move and keep glaring at the man in front of me. I'm not doing this. No way I'm doing something like this. You don't use weapons against your family, period. You don't harm your family, period. At least, not on purpose.

The cold look in the guy's eyes, turns even darker and before I even know it, the knife is buried deeply into Mike's shoulder. A scream tears from him and the water that has been building up in the corners of his eyes, is now slowly falling.

My mouth falls open and all I can see is the crimson dark red blood flowing down his right arm, willing it to flow back into his body. But this isn't the end yet. The knife is being twisted, causing more blood to flow and forcing small, croaked, screams coming from my brother.

"Stop!" I shout but I don't dare to come anywhere near. I don't want him to hurt Mikey more. Or worse, that he'll kill him.

"I'll stop if you cut him," is the only reply. The voice is without compassion, without feeling. There is nothing but joy in there, like a little kid getting his Christmas-present. It makes me feel sick.

I quickly grab the knife though and move forward. I can't let Mikey suffer. Not anymore. But can I do this? Can I mark him with my own hand?

"That's it," the dead voice says. "On his cheek, right there."

I slide to my knees so I'm on the same eye-level as Mikey is. The knife stops twisting and now there are no screams, I can hear the gasping breaths coming from my youngest brother. I take his face in one of my hands and rub my hand across his cheek. He looks up at me and despite everything, he smiles and gives me a nod.

"Do it," is the quiet whisper, which I can hardly hear. "Please."

With that last plead, I know I'm doing the right thing. As much as it may hurt me physically and mentally to harm my own brother, I know this is right.

I grab his face a little firmer so he can't move and make things worse. I try to put all the comfort and warmth in my grip I can muster and slash a shallow cut down his cheek.

He doesn't even wince at the contact and lets out a breath of relief when the other knife is pulled out of his shoulder. I cradle him close and drop the knife I held in my hand immediately. I can't hear our tormentor leaving, I can't hear the soft cries of Mikey when I put pressure on his two wounds, although the one on his cheek is hardly bleeding. I can't hear anything because of the blinding pain ripping my brain apart. I've hurt my brother. I marked him, I cut him and I let him down. I hurt my youngest brother. The one who I swore I would protect.

I also can't hear the 'well done' coming from the devil outside or cage. I don't even notice the five water bottles, piece of cloth, disinfectant, and most importantly, the food that is shoved through the bars. The only thing that exists for me now, is the monster I fear I've become.

So that was… not what I expected at all. Do I have a sick mind? After writing this I think I do. Time for a mental hospital maybe. Oh well, send me a review before I go okay?