Feliciano felt cold. His skin was prickling, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and he could find no warmth, even if he found his muscles going stiff and trembling from the strain of staying warm.

He couldn't see a thing past his blindfold, which he found itchy, digging into the back of his head and the bridge of his nose like it was a restraint of it's own. He was gritting his teeth, a bit afraid to speak. He couldn't tell if there was anyone other than Antonio and the man in the room. He didn't know how long he had been duct taped to that chair either. He had drifted off at one point, but he didn't know long he had been asleep. It could have hours, or just five minutes for all he knew. And now his neck hurt from the awkward position he had obtained while asleep.

He could vividly hear the man speaking. It wasn't the man from the pit, someone else, someone with a deeper voice, maybe someone stronger. They where using big, long words that his mind didn't feel like processing, instead tuning them each out a dull hum. He could hear Antonio respond with grunts every once and a while.

Feliciano let his head hang to his chest.

The voices hurt his head horribly. He felt ill, holding his breath to keep it down. While he had suffered quite a large amount for someone of his 'age' over the years, his pain tolerance had never been high. Just a stubbed toe was enough to make him cry a bit, and that was usually when Ludwig or Romano scolded him -it was a light scolding, depending on who it was- about when it was appropriate to cry.

When he was hurt or afraid, they would say.

But he was hurt, he would respond. And it would go back and forth like that for a little while, until he had finally stopped crying and managed to suck it up. That was when Ludwig would settle down on the couch with him, or Romano would stomp off in annoyance.

Feli found his thoughts traveling to Romano. What was he doing? Was he trying to get to them? Did he really even care? Feli knew he annoyed his brother, a lot, but it wasn't like he could help it. He was naive. Oblivious.

He let out a gasp as he felt someone grab his face. It was a forceful grip, and it made his face hurt some. He tried to pull away, but the grip only got harder.

Antonio let out a sharp cry. "Don't say anything, Feliciano!"

He heard the interrogator speak. "Feliciano? What a nice name."

It was a simple statement, but the way he said it was unnerving. Feli let out a weak whimper, struggling to pull away. But the grip grew stronger still, until Feliciano felt his jaw would snap off. He began to cry, light, shaky breaths of fear escaping. They where rapid, and uncontrollable, almost instinctive.

"Now... Tell me, Feliciano." The grip on his face was released, and he looked away from where the voice was coming from. Their captor spoke his name mockingly. It scared him. "Your big brother Romano loves you, right?"

Feliciano nodded weakly, still facing the other direction.

"Then can you tell me why he hasn't come to save you?"

Feliciano didn't respond, thoughts whirling through his mind at a million miles an hour.

"Because he doesn't want to deal with sick bastardos like you!" Antonio responded.

There was a long pause, and a sharp crack. Antonio bit back a cry. Feliciano felt like he was going to cry.

"We do what we have to." Was the cold response.

Feli heard Antonio groan, before slowly speaking. "Romano pulled out because he was done with your shit here. Do you really have to press it back on him?"

Another sharp crack, and this time Antonio let out a shout of pain.

"You are not the investigator here." There where some footsteps, and Feliciano heard what sounded like a lighter being flicked open, and a metal tool of some sort being pulled from the tiny table nearby. The footsteps continued for a moment, before they stopped. Antonio was deathly quiet. Feliciano felt tension building, and he felt an uneasy pull in his stomach.

"We will have no need of you two by... Well, in a couple of days."

Feliciano let out a fearful sob. What did that mean? That they where going to be ditched in a forest somewhere? That they where going to be left? Or... Maybe killed? Feliciano began to cry harder at that thought.

"So we need you to tell us what really gets to Romano."

Neither of the two responded, and Feli found the silence was beginning to grow thick after mere moments.

Feli jumped as he felt heat radiate near the stab wound on his leg.

"I recommend you answer."

Feliciano felt like now was the best opportunity to say something. But instead of responding to the man, he spoke at Antonio.

"Don't say a thing... No matter what-a happens, don't-a say a thing."

In mere moments his thoughts where compiled together in a simple idea. Even if they where prisoners here, Feliciano knew he could not, that he would not, say a single thing to allow Romano to be hurt further. Even if his pain tolerance was low, and he was afraid of being hurt, he would let these people get to his brother more than they already had.

Suddenly, the stab wound began to burn. He could feel a hot metal rod press against his skin, effectively cauterizing the sound, but also burning. It burnt like hell itself, it felt like. Feliciano but back a scream, containing his pain in weak groans. He struggled to escape his confines, pulled at his arms, and pulling his torso away from the back of the chair. The rod was pressed harder against his skin, and it grew deeper. He swore he could feel the skin break.

He let out a wail of pain, struggling wildly to get away.

"P-p-piacere!" He cried out, his weak pleas going unheard. It felt like ages as his skin was burned through, his wound now not fixed, but deepening. As it grew deeper, he began to scream. He could hear Antonio shouting at their captor to stop. He didn't seem to be paying attention.

His vision went white, and he began to hyperventilate, his breathing growing rapid, sweat making its way down his face, his cheeks covered with pain filled tears. He pulled vainly, futilely, trying to get away from the pain, crying and screaming in pleas to stop, stop, stop.

It finally stopped.

Feliciano leaned back against the back of the chair, only to have his wound begin to sear. He let out a weak whimper, finding that leaning over was the only way to stop the hurting. He hung his head, trying to fight back tears, letting out heavy breaths. He could hear Antonio crying softly, and Feli knew that he was afraid too, afraid for himself and for Feli.

"Stubborn." Their interrogator stated.

Feliciano sat awkwardly in the chair, his head low, as if to avoid being noticed. Antonio was obviously trying to hold back his tears. Feli felt exposed like this, and dear god did it hurt. It felt as if his skin was stretching, the area around it numb and cold, while the wound itself felt as if it was being torn apart from the inside out. His hearing was slurred together, and he couldn't make out a single thing from the white of the pain he was suffering. He let out another shaky breath.

"F-Feli?"

"Mhhm?" He didn't even have the composure to speak without crying.

"Im sorry... I'm so sorry... It's going to be okay."

Feliciano simply nodded in return, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he continued to try keep quiet. He could feel his nerves stinging up and down his leg, his mind telling him he needed to get out, but he couldn't.

The footsteps returned.

A woman spoke this time. "Oh boys... Boys, boys, boys. This isn't over yet."

The next few hours where the worst hours in Feliciano's life.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out was screaming as another knife dove into his leg.