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Chapter Text

The doors glided open, and in stepped Mr. Lambrick and his son, Julian. The tapping of their shoes against the wood left a heavy ache in the players' chests, and many of them shifted in their seats. Fear was awake inside thir minds, scurrying round ceaselessly. Many of them looked fearfully towards their host. Others wearily stared down at the table.

Lambrick clapped his palms together, "And so we begin again..." He said. "Oh!" He exclaimed, as if remembering something. He rocked on the balls of his feet. "Does anyone need to use the restroom or anything?" He asked in a sickly sweet tone, looking around excitedly.

A wheezing chuckle overcame Lambrick before anyone could do much more than blink. He bent forward, laughter flowing from him in a stream.

Travis looked around, head low.

"I'm just joking." Lambrick said, taking a breath and clasping his hands together again, "I know you're all probably just as eager to keep playing as we are." He said, his eyes drifting to Travis.

Travis looked up at the man, his eyes dropping back to the table as he realized Mr. Lambrick was staring at him.

"Now, in this round, you will each get thirty seconds, in order to make your decision, alright?" Mr. Lambrick said, then smacking his lips, raising his voice, "So let's begin with... Iris."

Iris looked at Lambrick, surprised. She breathed in, readying herself, ignoring everyone's glances.

"Iris! Would you rather... Stab Lucas in the thigh with an ice pick," As Lambrick spoke, the butler placed an ice pick on the table to her right.

Iris looked at Lambrick like he was crazy, her mouth open. He had to be joking.

"Or..." Lambrick went on, "Strike Travis three times," Lucas shared eye contact with Travis, who flicked his tongue out, nervous, straightening up. "With this African whipping staff, a Sjambok?"

Travis's eyes widened as he looked at the Sjambok. He knew the damage it could do.

Iris's eyes widened in horror as it dawned on her that Lambrick wasn't joking. She'd have to pick one. Her eyes swayed numbly between the two items on either side of her, as her attempt at level breathing came out in small, quick breaths.

"Oh, my god! They're gonna kill us!" Linda squawked in utter disbelief.

"Look, Iris, three whacks from that, I'll be ok," Travis said, falsely calm, acting as if it was no big deal.

Iris looked into his eyes. There was fear residing there, but that fear was overpowered by trust. He trusted her.

"I'll show you where to aim." The muscles in Travis's jaw danced as he clenched and un-clenched it, averting his gaze. "It's only three." He said.

"It's gonna hurt though, man..." Lucas said, his voice soft.

Travis huffed out a short breath of air, "I know. Just get it over with." Travis said, in a voice only a man who had been through pain and was tired of it could. Gliding his hands off the table, he stood, moving his chair out of his way and taking his jacket off, glaring at their "host" as he did so.

"Sjambok it is!" Lambrick said with fake excitement, as lris stood slowly, trembling as she grabbed the whip.

Iris kept herself falsely composed, as did Travis. Neither of them knew why they bothered. They knew that by the end of the night everyone in this room would become nothing more than sniffling bloody messes. But Travis had to be the strong one. He had to show them that there was hope.

Travis wordlessly turned his chair around, which screeched against the floor. He sat backwards in it, intertwining his fingers on the table, steadying himself.

"Now Iris," Lambrick said, standing next to her, "There's no just tapping him, you need to put your back into it." He turned to Travis, "And, uh, Travis?" He leaned in, "This is going to hurt, so make yourself comfortable." Lambrick whispered loud enough for all his guests to hear.

Lambrick took his seat back at the head of the table, a grin on his face.

Peter looked at Travis, who refused to make eye contact with him. Travis was too busy keeping himself from decking their host.

He sniffed, forcing his feelings down to focus on the task at hand. "Stay away from my back and kidneys. Aim for places with muscle, fat, and away from major organs. Forearms, Calves, ass, shoulders. If you're looking for the least amount of damage, ass." He instructed bluntly, voice not wavering once. He stood, clearing his throat, sliding his jacket off the table and tying it around his waist, sitting back down.

Iris stared at him, mouth opening and closing unsurely. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Iris?" Lambrick said, asking for her to get on with it.

The whip came down without warning, making Travis flinch when it touched his back. It was weak, but it still startled him.

Lambrick tisked, shaking his head, "What did I say?"

Travis felt the whip slowly lift up off of his backside as Bevans instructed Iris how to do it. "Like this, ma'am."

There was silence for a long moment, Iris sounding like she was in tears. "Travis?" She gasped out.

"Go ahead, Iris," Travis said, voice soft and reassuring, even as his even breaths became harsh with anticipation, and his interlaced fingers pulled tightly together.

THWACK. The whip snapped on Travis's backside. The vet lurched forward, choking harshly, bodily flinching. His hands shuffled involuntarily against the smooth table, and he groaned in pain, the sound much more repressed than the pain itself. He had definately trained at not making noise. His head fell back down, his breath falling with it, his hands having trouble finding their former place.

One down, two to go. Leather squeaked at Iris readjusted her grip on the handle.

THWACK. She struck again.

Everyone flinched from the sound, Travis arching his back, jolting in his seat, "Fffuck..." He whimpered. It must have felt like streaks of fire on his skin.

Two down.

Travis shot a glare at Julien, eyes dripping acid, burning a hole through the rat's skull. He knew the rat had had this requested.

Iris struck again, a zippery squeaking sound forcing its way from him as he jolted again, the muscles in his neck and chest not giving him an option as they forced his head back.

Three. Iris gasped breathlessly, dropping the whip on the floor.

"All right!" Lambrick said with a chuckle.

The vet let go of a little sound, his body tensing as he held his breath, trying to lessen the pain.

Lambrick continued talking, "That looked like it hurt, Travis." The man said, tilting his head to the side, inspecting the wreck of a man.

Travis let go of his breath, "Well, it did." He said gruffly, rearranging his bite.

"Are you okay?" Iris whispered. Concern was etched in her face, like Lucas's, and almost everybody else (who wasn't an evil psychopath).

"I've been through worse." Travis said, sniffing. His eyes moved from Iris to Julian defiantly, who didn't seem pleased by the statement.

Amy had already sat back in her seat, the guilt finally washing over her as she looked at Travis, who quivered, his forehead sweaty, strands of hair sticking to it.

"Lucas, you're next." Lambrick called. Lucas became instantly uneasy. Well, instantly more uneasy than he already was.

"Would you rather stab Iris in the thigh..." Bevans placed the icepick on Lucas's right, but Lucas was busy staring at Travis, who gasped as he pressed the back of his hand to his brow as slight nausea came over him from the pain, "Or..." Lambrick continued, speaking slowly to make things dramatic, "Give Travis three more strikes?"

Most everyone's heads shot towards Lambrick in surprise. "Oh, come on!" Lucas yelled, eyes darting back and forth quickly between Lambrick and Travis.

Travis huffed, hands rising and falling exasperatedly against the table. They all now knew their "hosts" definitely planned this.

Travis looked at Julian, who was smiling like a smug little kid.

Lucas looked at Travis before his focus shot down to the space between the two items in front of him, Travis breathing uneasily beside him. The clock ticked, Lucas becoming more perturbed by the minute.

Julian cocked his head, watching, grinding his teeth silently as he hoped Lucas picked the whip.

Travis knew Lucas's decision before he even made it.

Lucas turned to Travis, "Look..." Travis nodded, pressing his lips together. "That's a really dangerous place to stab somebody, there's a major artery there," Lucas said to the younger man. Trevor looked at him silently, both men breathing heavily.

"You know what I'm saying?" Lucas asked.

Travis stared at him tiredly. "Let's just get it over with." He said, looking straight ahead, breathing out a shaky breath. He looked entirely done with this bullshit.

"Sjambok again." The butler said as Lucas moved into position. Lucas looked ready to strike Travis's ass again, but he hesitated. Travis was bleeding through the brown jacket.

"Calves," Amy suggested.

Lucas's eyes darted towards her, and he nodded in thanks.

Travis's hands tightened on the chair as he lowered his head.

He straightened up as he felt Lucas press the whip against his left calf, aiming at it.

THWACK. It came down hard and sudden, Travis choking in sudden pain, and he cried out. His hands held tighter to the chair, his head fell back down as he whined. With the agonized sound, his body voiced its desperate pleas for the pain to end. He wouldn't be so lucky.

THWACK. The second strike came down, Travis's voice cracking with his cry. He had gone completely tense, and he pressed his face into the table, clinging to his hair, face protected in a cage of his arms.

THWACK. Once more the whip came down, Travis's shoulders flinching together and his cry muffled by the table. Then it was over.

Travis groaned, arms loosening their grip on his scalp, and moving away, revealing his exhausted, pained face. His eyes were clenched shut, and he breathed out through his nostrils shakily.

"I'm sorry, man." Lucas leaned over to say while taking his seat.

Travis slowly, painstakingly sat up, reaching for his collar and with shaky hands loosened his tie. He forced himself to breath evenly as he did so, trying to calm himself, sniffing and wiping his nose. His hair was becoming matted, and his skin shiny with sweat, a slight tremor making its home in his body.

Travis interlaced his fingers, making a point of it, looking straight ahead.

"Travis," Lambrick said, picking through a small bowl in front of him full of nuts, "You're probably relieved to find out that it's your turn?" He said, looking up at Travis with a tight-lipped grin before his face fell back to normal as he went back to picking through the nuts.

Travis nodded, huffing out thinly through his mouth, "Something like that," He said, his eyes looking to Lambrick weakly. The vet's expertly calloused peices were slowly being chewed away by gnawing teeth. He looked like an absolute mess, trembling and sweating.

"Alright, then. Let's get it over with." Lambrick said, sounding surprisingly somewhat sad, his admiration for the veteran showing through.

He hid the small moment of weakness with a loud, "Travis!"

Lambrick went back to picking nuts, "Travis..." He popped a nut in his mouth, straightening as he chewed, Travis looking at the icepick as it was placed to his right, the bags under his eyes seeming to darken, "Would you rather... Stab Lucas, the man who just whipped you, or... A drumroll please..." Lambrick began drumming his fingers against the table, "Take three more lashes? This time administered by Bevans!" Lambrick said excitedly, finishing his drumroll.

Travis's face hardened.

Julian laughed wickedly,a white suited snake. "I wonder why you're being singled out?" He chuckled.

Travis didn't move, his gaze on the table, somewhere he was getting well acquainted with.

"Maybe because you're a little bitch who can't take constructive criticism." Travis said, sounding surprisingly calm for the merit of his words. His eyes slowly lifted to meet Julien's as they stared eachother down.

The room somehow became tenser then it already was, the air becoming so thick it was suffocating. "What'd you just say you fucking-!?"

"The whip." Travis growled, the strength he still carried in his voice illuminating his doggedness, as he stared into Lambrick's very soul.

"We have to stop this," Iris whispered to Lucas.

"Yeah. Wait, wait!" Lucas raised his hands in the air, as one of Lambrick's men pointed a gun at his head, "Stop, stop!" He leaned in close to Travis, grabbing the icepick, "Travis, just stab me in the thigh, ok?" He said, holding it out to Travis.

"I'm not stabbing anybody." Travis said, looking at Lucas like he was stating the obvious.

"Travis, come on!" Lucas hissed.

"Lucas," Lambrick budded in, "This is admirable, but it's against the rules." He said.

"But I'm OK with it!!" Lucas yelled.

Julian spoke up, "He can't go back! His first choice is final-"

"Just hold on a second!" Lucas yelled towards Julian, "I said I'm OK with it!!"

"Lucas-" Travis said, voice low.

"Come on, man." Lucas pleaded.

"Lucas! This is all very admirable. His decision." Lambrick said.

Travis looked past Lucas, at Julian, expression filled with anger and determination, as Julian sneered back at him.

Travis moved his hand away from Lucas's shoulder (when had he put it there?), "It's okay." He said, unwrapping his jacket from his waist and draping it over his shoulders. He stared defiantly at Lambrick.

"It's just like life, isn't it?" Lambrick said, staring levelly at the wounded vet, "There are no do-overs."

"For anybody." Travis said as he continued staring the man down with bubbling rage. You're going to hell.

Lambrick's eyes widened a fraction as he realized something. He wasn't in his own playground, but Travis's. He wasn't in control of the situation, Travis was, because nothing that happened so far had broken the man mentally. One could even say he was happy he was the one being singled out.

Travis looked at Bevans, signaling he was ready. Bevans prepared the whip.

Travis looked straight ahead, eyes open and fiery.

After keeping the whips away from his back for so long, Travis finally failed. It cracked against his back. With each crack of the whip, Travis's body crumbled more and more. But his eyes were more defient then ever.

By the volume of the whip, Bevans was definately going harder at him then anyone else had. Yet, somehow, Travis was quieter, only flinching, with a pained sound in the back of his throat threatening to escape, but never doing so.

Then it was over, and Bevans moved away. Travis swallowed, streightening his back and sucking in a breath, eyes blinking repeatedly in uncomfort.

He didn't get much time to recover before th icepick and whip were placed before Peter. "You know the drill by now. The pick, or give Travis three more."

Peter gawked at the items placed before him. He wasn't so much gawking at the items themselves, as gawking at the fact he held two people's lives in his hands.

"Hey! Make a decision, Pete! Some of us are getting bored." Julien hollered, annoyed. He leaned back in his chair, propping his legs on the table.

Peter glanced at Travis, who looked like a wreck, before his face fell. "I-I-"

"Do it." Travis said.

Peter blinked at him, voice trembling, "B-but you're..." Just a kid? Hurt? Peter's hand hovered over the whip, before his fist clenched and hand pulled back, "I cant-"

"I'll fucking glue that whip to your hand and make you do it." Travis growled.

Lambrick couldn't help but stare at Travis in wonder. He believed every word the vet had said. Despite all his injuries, Travis would fucking make Peter whip him. Something about Travis intrigued him. Some of them had taken hits for eachother, but he was on another level. He was willing to die. For what reason, Lambrick didn't know.

Peter looked at Lambrick, and saw a tell. Peter didn't know why it was there, but it was, and it gave clear instructions. Despite what Travis had said, Peter slowly reached for the icepick.

"No!" Linda gasped.

"Linda, I've got to. Travis is in pretty bad shape, and you're paralyzed, right? You wont feel anything anyways..." Peter reasoned, though he himself didn't look very convinced.

"Outside of her leg." Travis said.

Peter nodded, and positioned the icepick where Travis had instructed. He held it with both hands, sweat beggining to swell from his forehead.

He plunged it downwards, and it stuck into flesh. He'd realized he'd closed his eyes when he slowly opened them. Peter's eyes widened, disbelief of what he'd just done dawning on him.

He'd missed.

He pulled the icepick out.

"Dont-!" Travis yelled one moment too late.

Blood spurted from the wound.

"Oh, shit!" Peter began taking his belt off.

"What happened?" Linda asked, as Peter made a tourniquet, tying it tight around her leg.

Everyone was silent, shocked from what just happened.

Lambrick decided to break it. "Linda! It's your turn." Lambrick said, much too sweetly. "Stab Amy or whip Travis." Lambrick said, picking at his nails. He knew which one she'd have to pick, and he was bored.

Linda grabbed the icepick and stabbed Amy without any warning.

"Woah!" Lambrick exclaimed in surprise.

"Fucking Bitch!" Amy slapped her, Linda's head snapping to the side.

Amy was spewing out hissing curses, not giving a fuck about what she'd just done to the old woman.

Peter gently brought Linda into a hug, staring at Amy in disbelief.

Amy held tightly to her leg, nails digging into her skin, and she swiftly pulled the icepick back out of her leg.

She screeched in pain, furiously stabbing the pick into the table.

Julien stared, fear marking his features. She could have stabbed him, they all knew that.

"Quick recovery! Quite impresive!" Lambrick said, clapping, as Bevas placed the whip on her left side.

Amy's eyes flicked to Cal, and then to Travis. She didn't look at the torture weapons on the table, only her victims.

Cal looked scared, his eyes begging not to be picked. But Travis, Travis looked dead tired, his head and shoulders drooping despite how it pulled at the open wounds oh his back. He wasn't even looking at her.

Amy reached foreward, grabbing the whip. Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood up, staring blankly into Travis's tired gaze.

Travis was at his limit, exhausted. He sighed shakily.

Amy began walking around the table, heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Amy suddenly brushed the tip of the whip against Travis's back. Travis jerked, arching his back as far away as possible and hissing, the whip brushing against his wounds.

Travis couldn't twist around to glare back at her, but Lucas was doing enough of that for the both of them.

Amy smiled, giggling. It wasn't fake. She was enjoying this. "What? I'm just eliminating the competition."

Lucas's face fell, before scrunching back up in disgust.

Travis just sniffed, shaking his head. He was too drained to give much of a shit. "You're just as sick as they are." He said. No need to point out who "they" were.

Amy leaned foreward, mouth close to his ear. "Bet on it." She said, warm breath tickling his ear and sending a chill down his spine.

He elbowed her off of him, and she laughed.

Then, completely without warning, she whipped him.

THWACK

"FUCK!" He screamed, jumping up, falling out of his chair.

Lucas caught him, grabbing the nape of his neck and his shoulder, pushing him back up as Travis groaned weakly.

Travis wrapped his arms around the back of the chair, holding it tightly to his chest. He sobbed out a shakey breath. He was trembling beyond trying to hide it.

THWACK

Travis screamed, his voice cracking and breaking, too hoarse to hold the pained tune. His head banged against the table, and he heaved in a breath like he'd never breathed before.

CRACK

He collapsed, his shaking hands gripping so tightly to his tie his knuckles were white. Amy threw down the whip and easly sauntered back to her seat.

"Travis, Travis, Travis, Travis, Travis..." Julian tsked.

"Hey, hey, hey," Lucas said, leaning in towards Travis's face, touching his hand gently. Travis didn't respond, only making snorting, choking sounds, gasping.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Travis was entirely enveloped by bitter acid. There was no pushing the pain out of his mind. It was there, and it was burning away his every thought. It's like there were entire chunks taken out of his back. Puppet strings and wire snipped away by scissors, cake carved away by a large knife.

His hands twitched in jittery movements as he tried to sit up, but his body felt like an unmovable force was set ontop of it. He couldn't move beyond lifting his head off the table an inch before his body gave up, his forehead thumping against the wood as he let out a little shattered noise.

A warm hand touched his shoulder. Slowly Travis stilled, his breaths slowing. He only then realized that he'd begun breathing too fast. He was lightheaded now, but that was the least of his concerns. Now Travis was too drained to do anything but sit there limply like a bag of meat.

Travis looked at Lambrick for only a moment. Lambrick was smiling. Travis had lost.

Travis couldn't bring himself to give a shit.

Lucas slowly and gently pulled his jacket off his shoulders, and pulled back his collar, taking a peek.

His face fell, and skin turned deathly white. Travis wasn't bleeding too much, but he obviously had some internal damage judging by the bruising. He gently draped Travis's jacket back over his shoulders, who didn't react whatsoever. Travis rested his sweaty forehead on his left forearm, nausea and lightheadedness crashing over him like a wave. His chest felt restricted like he couldn't get a full breath. He was wheezing.

He just wanted to sleep and never wake back up.

"He's bruised really bad... he might be bleeding internally... and I think he has a fractured rib..."

Travis's hearing was going. He'd begun drifting, eyes fluttering closed. He let out one more heavy breath, and he passed out.

In his sleep, three more times he felt pain, but he was too tired to respond.

Chapter Text

"Peter..." Travis faded out and back into consciousness like a wave, "On, the other hand, Travis is..." "Amy. Would you rather..." "Stab any player of your choosing!" Travis never moved. Sometimes he could barely feel himself breathing. 

"In case any of 'yall haven't figured this out yet, this game isn't about helpin' each other," Amy said, looking around. "It's about eliminating the other players." She said, grabbing the icepick and moving to get out of her chair.

The butler went for his gun, "Bevans." Lambrick said, calling him off.

Bevans backed up.

Amy stood, gesturing to Linda, "This one's probably going to bleed to death." She said, sauntering around the butler, heading towards the other side of the table.

"Duck." She walked past Cal, "Duck." She walked past Iris. "Duck." Lucas was sitting facing out, protectively guarding Travis, his jaw clenched, ready for a fight.

She stopped for a moment, staring at the two men. Lucas's intense glare, and Travis, his back a bloody mess, barely moving, his trembling seeming to have gone, the only evidence he was alive being his head swaying every once in a-awhile. 

He'd been still for a while. She just had to make sure he was alive.

"Duck." She began heading back around the table the way she came, passing Iris, "Duck." She passed Cal, "Goose!" She tried stabbing Julian in the neck, but he raised his arm to defend himself, getting stabbed through the hand, the man falling out of his chair, squawking like a bird, and writhing on the ground.

All Lambrick's men pointed their guns at her, Lambrick waving them away, "WHOA, WHOA!" He called.

His men stood down, and everything was silent, except for the sound of Julian's screeching, "FUCKING PIG!! SHE STABBED ME!!" He shrieked. No one moved to help him.

She'd missed. Nevertheless, that felt good.

Lambrick stared at her with curiosity instead of hatred. A true Sociopath. She stared back.

"Take him out," Lambrick ordered.

His men removed the icepick from his hand, Julien screaming, throwing it to the ground as they dragged him out.

"Now, why would you stab Julian, of all people? Why not Bevans, who possesses a gun?" Lambrick asked, calmly.

Amy's heart and breath quickened. Lambrick was so close to Travis. Way too close. "What'd you expect me to do? Not stab that little shit?!" She hissed. Her eyes flicked to Travis for only a moment, but that's all she needed to do. She'd blown her cover.

Lambrick's eyes drifted down to Travis, and a lightbulb went off in his head. "Oh! Oh! You did it because of him! What happened to "eliminating" the other players?" He asked.

Amy exhaled harshly through her nostrils, slowing her quickened breath, "None of your business." She said, venom on her lips.

"Now, now..." Lambrick glanced at one of his men. That man instantly put a hand on the side of Travis's head, pinning it against the table, the vet facing towards everyone else.

Travis's eyes opened in a brief flutter, and he groaned, his fingers twitching, but not moving besides that, the man pressing harder against his skull.

"No need to get cocky at a time like this," Lambrick said to Amy, as the goon got a gun out, pressing it against Travis's temple.

Amy watched, eyes widening, most of the other guests doing the same, except for Linda, who seemed to be out cold.

"Now, Amy? Why would you care so much about this man you just met? Want to give me any pointers?" Lambrick asked.

Amy was completely silent, rocking from foot to foot.

"Oh, Oh. But he reminds you of someone..." Lambrick tapped his chin, looking at the ceiling as if in thought.

Travis's brow furrowed as he looked at her, along with most everyone else, "Your brother was a soldier, wasn't he? Died in Iraq?" Lambrick looked down at Trevor, "And this fella reminds you of him, doesn't he?" Lambrick said.

Amy swallowed, sharing eye contact with Travis, who stared at her, seeming to barely be awake, his brows twitching and knitting together.

She nodded silently, and she looked at Lambrick. She didn't know how he got that information, but that didn't matter. "I'll do what you want. I'll play the game right." Amy said, eyes staying glued to the gun as she recomposed herself.

"Amy, Amy. But you've already broken the rules!" Lambrick reminded.

Travis tried moving again, only able to get his hands to slide to the edges of the table, clamping on. His eyes closed as he breathed shakily through his nostrils.

"Is there another route we can take?" Amy asked quickly, level-toned.

Lambrick cocked a brow, stroking his chin, "Sure!" He said. "Amy. It's still your turn. I'm going to change your options a little... Now, either you pick having Travis's brains blown out, or you take the icepick you used to stab my son, and you stab yourself in the neck with it." Lambrick said, "You have thirty seconds."

Amy looked at Travis, her face crestfallen. Travis looked back at her, eyes drooping.

Barely seven seconds went by before she bent down, picking the icepick off the ground, holding it up to her neck, and closing her eyes.

"Amy." Was faintly uttered in a small, feeble voice.

Amy looked at Travis.

"I've had worse. I can take it." He said, his voice low and groggy like he hadn't slept, his eyes laden with the same tiredness. Amy somehow knew what he meant. He'd died a long time ago. Amy knew. But she refused to believe he couldn't come back to life.

"But I can't," Amy said, a single tear streaming down her cheek. "I can't..." She said, her tears and sobs now freely spilling into the eyes and ears of the others. She stabbed herself in the neck.

Everyone reacted in a different level of surprise or horror, except for Lambrick, who laughed.

"Wow! She actually did it!" Lambrick said in awe.

Travis winced, closing his eyes, taking uneven, harsh breaths. He just wanted this to be over.

Amy dropped the icepick, holding onto her neck, blood seeping between her fingers. She collapsed in the corner, breathing shallowly, her breath choking on blood seeping into her lungs. She looked only at Travis, tears still trailing like a waterfall. Please... Please look at me. Her mind pleaded.

Travis did, opening his eyes, glistening with guilt.

Amy somehow achieved a smile, the corners of her mouth trembling, but her heart still. Live. She managed a few small breaths and faded into nothing.

The goon backed off of Travis, who stayed where he was for a moment, with his cheek pressed against the table, eyes staring at the dead woman. Slowly he sat upright, pressing his elbows into the table, interweaving his hair with his fingers, staring at his favorite spot on the table. He refused to look at the dead woman in the corner.

Lambrick laughed, "That was intense. Good to know you'll be in another round, hey Trevor?" Lambrick cheered, giving Travis two pats on the back.

Travis groaned through his teeth on impact, his muscles trying to jerk his head back, but his fingers pulling at the hair on the back of his head, keeping it down. His back arched, chest forcing into the chair, trying to evade the cruel touch.

Lambrick patted him one more time. Travis's hands let go of his hair, not knowing where to go, uselessly scratching at the table in unsteady movements, his head jerking, but he refused to make another sound, clenching his jaw even harder.

Lambrick moved away, Lucas laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. Travis breathed out shakily through his mouth, his face falling against the table again, his shoulders and body completely relaxing.

Lambrick sat back down at the head of the table, his butler handing him a wipe. Travis's blood had only begun seeping through the material of his jacket scantly, so there was barely any blood on Lambrick's hand. Still, Lambrick wiped his hand with it, handing it back to Bevans when he finished with it. Lambrick watched soullessly as Amy's dead body was dragged out of the room.

Lambrick leaned back in his chair, "Moving on." He said.

Lucas hadn't moved his hand from Travis's shoulder, leaning in, "Hey, Travis." He shook him a little, but Trevor didn't move. "Travis?!" Lance shook him a little harder. Still no response.

Lambrick watched intently. "Bevans." He called, without looking away.

Bevans walked over, pressing two fingers to Travis's neck, leaning in, listening. "Still breathing, sir." He said. "Remarkable."

Peter was still holding Linda, his arm draped over the back of her wheelchair, "Guys, she hasn't moved for a while." He said.

"Stabbed an old woman, Peter." Lambrick said, getting more comfortable in his chair.

"Linda," Peter called her name. "See, she's unconscious."

Bevans grabbed the old woman's head, leaning it back, inspecting her face. "She's not unconscious." He said, letting go of her head and looking at Lambrick, "She's dead."

The guests gasped and exhaled sorrowfully, Peter moving away from Linda, expression filled with horror. He'd done that. He killed her.

Iris began sobbing silently as they wheeled Linda out of the room.

Peter breathed shakily, "You guys saw what happened, right? I tried to help her." He said, trying to justify the situation for himself, rocking in his seat.

"Oh, yes, Peter, we all saw what happened," Lambrick said, head tilted as he looked at the man. Peter began rocking more. "You made a decision and there's a consequence."

Peter covered his face with his wrist, lowering his head in shame.

"And now... Cal is the one to make a choice." Lambrick said. They placed the icepick and the whip on either side of him, Cal staring blankly at the items.

"Finish off Travis, here, or..." Lambrick said, Peter rocking, throwing his hands at the table. "Stab Peter," Lambrick said.

"Stab Peter like the others?" Cal asked, voice dull. "Like Linda, that's what you're saying?" He asked, his breath picking up in speed.

"30 seconds." One of Lambrick's men said.

"Okay, c'mon. Let's get it over with." Lucas said, waving his hand towards himself.

Cal was silent for a moment, and he sucked in a shallow breath, "Eliminate a player. That's what this is about." He said, finishing in a whisper.

Lucas leaned closer to the man, trying to reason with him, "No, Cal, that's crazy."

"Well, maybe he wants to end it, too." Cal said. Iris looked at Travis's scarred wrist, and shredded back, on the verge of sobbing.

"That's not your choice to make, man," Lucas responded.

"But it is." Cal said, his breath shook, "They're making it my choice."

"Cal, come on! I'm giving you an opening, here!" Lucas said, banging his fist down on the table.

"Time!" Someone called.

"Okay, I choose..." Cal picked up the whip.

"God, no, Cal, don't do this. Don't do that." Iris begged, shaking her head, sniffing. Peter leaned forward on the table, hanging his head, fists balled.

"You can't do this." Lucas said, his voice low.

"No." Iris begged.

Cal got out of his seat.

"No." Lucas said, his tone becoming darker.

Cal began making his way towards an unconscious Travis.

Lucas grabbed his arm on his way by, "Don't You Fucking Do It!!" He growled.

Cal pulled his arm out of his grip.

Lucas stood up, his chair screeching on the floor, standing behind Travis and shielding him, Lambrick's men pointing their guns at him. "NO!!" He yelled. "I Won't Let You!" He rumbled boldly, face mere inches from Cal's.

Cal stared at him and looked to Lambrick. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe for help, maybe to see what the sicko would do.

"Lucas, you've stepped out of line again. I'm afraid if you don't sit back down, Bevans will have to shoot you." Lambrick said, folding his hands.

Lucas hesitated, looking down at Travis, who was still out cold, not moving.

"He'll probably die anyway, man." Peter said, though Lucas could tell delivering those words was painful for him.

Lucas looked back down at Travis, and his gaze darkened with grit, "That's Murder." He said, looking back at Cal.

"Lucas, we'll give you ten seconds to sit back down." Lambrick said. A gun cocked.

Lucas stood with conviction, Cal's eyes pleading, "Sit down, man..."

"No." Lucas said, Iris turning away and sobbing.

There was complete silence for a few moments, and they shot Lucas dead, once in the chest, and once in the forehead.

Iris screamed, and Cal stared at the dead man standing there, inches in front of him, as Lucas began falling. He was caught by one of Lambrick's men before he could fall against Travis, his body being dragged out the room.

"Well... It seems with one more player gone, we're down to four." Lambrick looked at Cal, "You can sit back down now, Cal. You can go first next round." Lambrick said.

Cal choked on a breath, dropping the whip, eyes traveling from Travis, to Peter, to Iris in a daze as he shuffled back to his seat.

Lambrick stood, going to talk with Bevans in the corner, "So, how long would you say?" He asked the butler.

"He may live for several more hours, days even, I don't know." Bevans took a breath, "But he's in no shape to continue play, that much is certain."

Lambrick huffed, taking a second to think. "Alright, let's move him out."

Two of Lambrick's guys moved in on Travis, grabbing the vet by his forearms and lugging him out of his seat, which screeched on the floor.

"Wh, what are you doing?" Iris asked timidly, on high alert.

"Is he dead?" Peter asked, eyes on the verge of overflowing from the weight of all that had taken place, and the prospect of everything that was to come.

Lambrick moved to stand before the players, resting his hand on what was his son's chair. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that Travis is unable to continue playing." He said as they dragged Travis from the room.

Iris covered her mouth, which hung agape, watching as Travis and the men disappeared. Peter held his head, shaking it.

Lambrick went back to Bevans, "I'm thinking... We don't have much time here with these delays." He said, both men looking down at his watch.

One man who dragged Travis away walked back into the room, Bevans making a gesture to him with two fingers. The man stepped back out of the room, closing the door, not locking it, and standing guard outside.

Lambrick continued whispering to Bevans, as the remaining three players looked at each other. Lambrick looked back at his watch as Peter leaned in over the table, "Can you run?" He asked Iris.

Iris nodded. They all sat in silence for a moment longer, and Peter suddenly slammed his hand on the table, "NOW!" He yelled, all three guests standing hurriedly.

Peter tackled one goon, punching him and slamming him into the table, Cal grabbing the Sjambok and whipping another's legs, as Iris ran for the door.

The skirmish went on, men choking and punching each-other. "Iris, run!!" Peter wheezed, in the process of being choked on the floor by Bevans.

Iris was grabbed, the slight woman trying to fight the guy off of her. She struggled and stabbed the man in the arm with the icepick. The man hollered, releasing her, Iris running past him and out the door.

He pointed his gun at her, but Cal whipped him, the man falling to the ground. Cal turned to look at Lambrick, who was standing alone, unguarded. He made a course towards the man, anger entangled on his face.

Lambrick let him get surprisingly close before shooting him, Cal dropping to the floor, dead.

"Get back in your seats!" Lambrick ordered. Bevans forced Peter to his feet, who sat down.

"Well, that was some unexpected excitement, wasn't it?" Lambrick asked, his voice calming down. Lambrick looked around, a little more intently, "Where's Iris?" He asked. He looked at the gaping door, "Bevans! The door was unlocked!?" He howled.

Bevans looked at one of his men, who had his gun trained on Peter, "Stay here! Keep an eye on him!" He said, giving Peter a dirty look before darting out the door.

Chapter Text

Travis awoke. At first, he was too drained to feel alarmed at knowing he was in a dark, unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, and in a lot of pain. As his mind cleared, and the memory of everything that happened came flooding back to him, his breath quickened to a panicked pace, his eyes nearly vibrating with how quickly he looked from one object in the room to another. He quickly tried sitting up, managing to get onto his right elbow and roll onto his side. He rolled too fast and went off-balance, falling to the floor with a loud bang. He managed to keep the impact area on his shins and forearms, but in doing so, his right forearm's pain awoke, its injuries complaining in burning screams.

The room was completely silent for a moment before he remembered to breathe with a gasp. He let his forehead fall against the floor, which cooled his sweaty, throbbing head. Travis attempted pushing himself up from his elbows onto his hands, but his whole back stung with protest, his muscles trembling.

"Travis?" Came a soft, sad voice. It was Iris's voice. Travis heard the opening of a creaky door, and the pat of a hesitant step into the room.

Travis couldn't bring himself to answer her. His whole body was throbbing and burning in pain. He had to keep mute or risk sobbing from it.

"Travis?" Whispered her soft voice again, from right above where he lay. When had she gotten so close? He hadn't heard her footprints besides the first one. His thoughts stilled when he felt her hand press against the back of his neck, her fingers sliding up and scratching his scalp.

Travis sucked in a shaky breath, "Uh, yeah? I-I fell... I can't move." He admitted. His pride took a blow from the admittance, though just a small one.

Iris kneeled down next to him, holding his shoulder. "I'm sorry, you probably woke because of the pain. The doctor told me to give you more medication every four hours... I fell asleep, I'm sorry." She said, rambling.

Travis's ears were ringing too much for him to care. "It's, It's fine." He mumbled. He felt any energy he had left slipping away, his eyes drooping. Even the pain became like white noise.

"Travis?" Iris called, shaking his shoulder a bit. Travis went completely lax, passing out...

When he came to, Travis looked around sparingly, his eyes unnaturally foggy, and keeping him from taking in any details. He was in bed again, but this time the room was bright. There were no personal items in it, except for a small radio on the dresser. Iris caught his eye, "Your brother's?" He asked.

Iris nodded, eyes dreary, "Yours." She said.

Travis never stopped looking at her, "Iris..." His eyes softened. She looked beautiful. Her hair was down and wavey, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. Her guard was down, physically and emotionally. She felt real in that moment. It almost felt like looking at her was a violation of her privacy. So, Travis looked away, "Thank you." He said, his voice sounding strangely hoars. He didn't know what she'd done, or what deal she had to make to bring him home, but whatever it was, he was thankful for it.

Iris smiled at him, nodding silently. Travis stepped into the room. "I'll let you get cleaned up while I make dinner. You should be able to stand this time. There's a shower in my room. When you're done, let me know, so I can help wrap your injuries. Oh, and the doctor, um, said you shouldn't be out of bed for extended periods of time." Iris said, leaving and closing the door behind her before he could so much as say thank you.

Travis just sat up nothing but the sound of air conditioning and Iris's feet fading reaching his ears. He hadn't been in a home with air conditioning for a while. Or the sound of another living person.

He stared down at a bag he only just now noticed was on his lap. He reached towards it, zipping it opened and digging through it. He found some gauze and some ointment, along with a pair of boxers and black sweats, which were both his size. He didn't want to know how she got that. He also pulled out a large, white, thin material t-shirt, which looked like it was going to be too big on him. He painstakingly got out of bed and opened the door, heading down the hall to the bathroom.

He found the towels, getting one out and placing it on the sink with his clothes and bandages.

He got in the shower, and for who knows how long just stood there, letting the hot water spray onto his front, running down his face. It got into his eyes, but he didn't close them. He finally willed his body to move, using some of her honey shampoo and conditioner, and cleaning his body with her lavender shower gel. The lavender helped him relax, but he still felt jittery after... everything.

He didn't touch his back or let the water directly spray onto it. He knew better than that. Instead, he filled a cup with water and a little bit of soap, and slowly dumped the water down his back.

When he was done, he cautiously pat-dried his back, arse, and forearm, and dried normally everywhere else. He couldn't dry the power half of his legs, since bending over wasn't an option. He put some ointment on his backside and lower back and wrapped it. He couldn't do his upper back, since moving his arms in certain ways caused him extreme pain, even on meds, and could tear his stitching. He wrapped his forearm, which was easy since he was left-handed.

Once he finished with that, he sat on the sink and painstakingly slipped on his boxers and sweatpants, heading out of the bathroom, bandages, ointment, and t-shirt in his hands.

He saw Iris knocking at his door. "Travis?" She called.

Travis cleared his throat beside her, and she looked into her room, surprised. He didn't miss her eyes shoot down to his bare torso and back up to his dreary face. "Oh, uh, can I help you with...?" She gestured timidly to his torso.

Travis looked away, somewhat humiliated, swallowing. "Yeah..." He replied, Adam's Apple bobbing in discomfort.

Iris couldn't help a grin. So he was shy?

"Sit down. I'll be right back." She said, gesturing to her bed, and walking back down the hall, towards the kitchen.

He slowly lowered himself onto the foot of the bed, groaning from the strain. He heard Iris's feet patting on the floor, and she walked into the room, both people locking eyes for only a second before Travis looked at her hands. They were glistening from just being washed.

Iris shuffled into the bed behind him. She took the ointment, popping it open, and scooped some in her fingers. She glided it across his stitched gashes with light fingers. Still, it made him wince away, his hands tightening their hold on his knees and his lungs filling with air, holding onto it like a vice.

Iris hissed apologetically. 

"Ah-It's ff-fine," Travis said, his voice strained. He breathed out, trying to lull his growing nausea, leaning forward and cradling his face in his hands. With each touch, his back stung and protested in hot waves.

"Okay," Iris said, signaling she was moving onto the next step. Wrapping.

Travis sat straight, so she'd have better access. Travis let himself fall into flowing, unimportant thought as Iris worked.

"Done," Iris said.

"Thanks," Travis sighed. He pulled his shirt on, the motion painstakingly slow. Iris scooted out of bed and stood in front of him, extending her hands. Travis looked away, irritated and embarrassed.

Iris huffed with a grin, "Is the tough guy too much of a big boy to need help up?" Iris mocked playfully.

Travis's eyes shot to her, a strange mix of offense and interest, and he rolled his eyes, huffing, grabbing her hands, letting her pull him to his feet. She pulled him up faster than she'd intended, catching him before he could fall into her. Either she was surprisingly strong, or he was surprisingly light.

"There we are!" Iris said brightly. She helped him walk slowly to his room, "Sorry about that. I forget how strong I am sometimes!" She said. Travis was surprised by how chipper she seemed, given everything that happened. Maybe it was her way of hiding how she really felt.

Travis looked away, warm pink creeping into his face and neck, "It's fine. Strength is a good thing to have."

She helped him walk to his room, and lay down so he was comfortable, Travis insisting he didn't want to be covered. Iris couldn't tell if it was a pride thing, or he just wasn't cold. She went to the kitchen dumping the spaghetti on plates and pouring a cup of water, and putting them on a tray, bringing them back to Raleigh... Travis's room. 

She placed the tray beside him, and walked over to the radio, turning it on. She sat down at the foot of his bed, taking her own plate from the tray, and sitting crisscrossed, twirling the spaghetti on her fork and stuffing it in her mouth.

She devoured her food quickly, with barely any care what she looked like. Travis took it slow, staring drearily at his food. He wasn't hungry. How could he be? He looked at Iris. He could tell they both handled grief very differently.

He listened to the background noise of the radio as it switched songs. It was now playing Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant.

"Oh, I love this song!" Iris said through a mouthful of food. Her eyes didn't match her enthusiasm.

"Doctor! The problems in my chest! My heart feels cold as ice, but it's anybody's guess-" Iris sung along, placing her bowl on Travis's shins and standing, starting to dance.

Doctor can you help me cuz' I don't feel right. Better make it fast before I change my mind.

She twirled, facing Travis and winking, way over acting. Travis didn't smile. He knew a break-down when he saw one.

"Iris-" He tried. Iris turned up the music and danced out of the room, disappearing down the hall. She came back holding a bottle of wine, already taking a swing. Travis sighed. He didn't want to deal with this right now.

Travis rubbed his brow, "Iris, don't." He said, his voice stern and concerned.

"Don't what?" Iris asked, tossing the lid across the room. She took another swing, downing half the bottle. He would be impressed if it weren't for the circumstances. 

"Don't drink your feelings! It won't end well." Travis warned, moving the tray and plates off his legs and sitting them at the foot of his bed, shifting and getting his feet off the floor. "Iris, come on..."

"Why not?" Iris asked, glaring at him, taking another swing.

Travis stared at her, and he gave up, his head drooping. 

Iris approached him, placing a hand on his cheek and guiding his face to look at her. "We deserve this." She said, her eyes conveying more sweetness than she felt like giving at the moment.

Travis's eyes were pleading, but she ignored them, spinning back around and continuing dancing.

Travis adverted his gaze, staring at the closed curtains, the light of the golden hour finding its way through and softening the cold of the room.

When she was done with her one-man pity party, and she'd drunk all the wine, she lay on the floor, passed out.

The music was still blasting, and nearly eight songs had played, the sky outside getting dark. Now it was playing Hound Dog by Elvis Presley. Travis was still sitting with his legs hanging off the bed, and he stood up slowly, making his way towards the radio, and turning it off. On his way back to bed, one of his back muscles abruptly stiffened, Travis falling to his knees at the foot of the bed, groaning, trying to keep the sound suppressed behind clenched teeth. Just that small walk across the room had caused him pain. 

Iris woke from the thud of his knees hitting the ground, and she yawned, "Time to take your meds?" She asked, standing, punching her forehead lightly to help her headache. She grabbed his meds from his bedside, opening it, and pouring two into her hand.

The undeniable pain coursing through his back didn't die down this time. He sighed, "Guess so." He grumbled, forcing himself to stand and collapse on his front into bed. Iris handed him his meds, and collected the plates and empty wine bottle onto the tray, leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind her with her foot.

He hadn't failed to notice her taking the rest of his meds with her. He knew there was a story somewhere behind that.

That night Travis couldn't sleep.

Chapter Text

Travis awoke, his cheek pressed against a cold, hoarse floor. He was on his stomach, (thank fuck) instead of his back. He didn't know how long he'd been laying there, but his neck was starting to hurt from how his head was twisted. That was nothing compared to the shit going on with his entire backside. The slashes on his back and backside caused a sharp pain to flash through his body in red hot currents every time he breathed. His right arm had become numb, so it didn't hurt as badly.

He started carefully pushing off the ground with his hands. He panted intensely from the effort, staring and the floor beneath his face. He painstakingly shifted his legs, so he stabilized himself with his hands and knees. He looked around, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. Where was he? He hadn't remembered moving. He gasped in agony, sensation seeping back into his skin, and his arms gave out. The vet had to keep himself up by his elbows, fastening his hands together.

The room was simple. The wallpaper wasn't fancy, like the dining room, and it had no furniture, only having cream curtains covering the window. He didn't fail to notice the faded, dark red blotches and specks permanently inked on parts of the wall and curtains, nuzzled in the cracks of the chipping, unrenovated floorboards.

This room was old. He wasn't too shocked to realize Lambrick had probably been playing this game for a while... Decades, even.

On the bright side, he finally was somewhere that looked as entirely miserable as he felt, so he probably didn't stand out too crassly with the room. That didn't make him want to stay longer.

Travis peered around his shoulder, the muscles in his shoulders and arms quivering from the strain. The door was wood, something he could break down at his full strength. But he wasn't at his full strength. That was the point of this room. He was doomed to die.

Without the excuse of doing it to protect someone else, he found he didn't want to die anymore. Not like this... Not without a reason. He wanted to die of his own accord, not some sick bastard's.

He looked back towards the window. There was silver light spilling through, scarcely noticeable thanks to the single, dim light on the ceiling. The window was his only chance.

He slowly started crawling towards it, dragging himself along with his forearms and his legs, crawling army-style. At this moment, he was thankful the whip-marks on his right forearm were on the back of his forearm, not the underside. Still, the skin broke open and blood wept from his arm as he crawled, the musty air stinging deep within the gashes on his flesh. He pursed his lips, shaking his head in small jerks, his tired eyes freely crying. He gasped, choking on the tears slipping down his throat.

He continued crawling through the pain. He reached the wall, patting it with his hand, exhaling, feeling as though he'd overcome some sort of milestone.

Now came the harder part. He slowly got on his knees to the right of the window, pressing his hands against the wall to keep himself balanced. He reached for the curtains and pulled them back. Planks of wood covered it, cracks between them large enough to let moonlight through, but too small to fit even a finger.

He tried anyway, fingers sliding against the cracks, pressure filling up his chest and making it hard to breathe. He hung his head, pressing the top of it against the wall, which creaked from the weight. Trevor released a sob, sniffing, his nose becoming stuffy.

He didn't want to die. Not like this. Getting whipped to death to protect the others, fine. But this? This was pointless. The only way he would die pointlessly would be if he took his own life, not this. He somehow found this more meaningless than any other way of dying.

He knew that if he went back into that room... if he kept playing, he would've died better. He would've taken as much of the pain as he could, keeping it from the others until there was nothing left of him. He had passed out, but he knew Linda had died... If he was awake, he would have told Peter to whip him. Linda would be alive. Amy had killed herself to prevent Trevor's own demise.

He wanted to throw up... and sleep for a very long time. He did neither, staying there on his knees, hands pressed against the wall, head low.

He just breathed, sometimes shakily, as his emotions overwhelmed him, sometimes taking smooth breaths, ignoring the searing pain in his arm, back, and back end. Travis thought about the other guests... The other victims. He hadn't really helped. How could he?

Travis let his knees sag, so he sat on his ass. The top of it hurt when he made contact with the ground, but since none of his slashes actually touched the floor, he ignored them.

He looked around the room again silently, taking in all the details. He frowned thoughtfully as he noticed something in the corner on the other side of the window. It was his jacket.

He started crawling towards it, only having to move slightly before getting within reach. He draped it over his shoulders and slowly lay down on his back. It felt like claws were trying to break loose from his skin, pushing and pulling. Even breathing felt like absolute hell, like someone was creating new gashes with each breath, and forcing his skin open.

As he lay there, entirely still, everything slowly became numb. His mind slowed from rational thought to irrational dreams and images, as his eyes drooped closed.

Before he could entirely drift into sleep, he heard a creak. His eyes cracked open, looking towards the source.

The door was open, Julian standing there, smirking down at him. "There you are," Julian said with false cheerfulness in his tone, slowly stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Travis noticed he was limping.

"What?" Travis grumbled, having the gut to sound irritated.

"Watch your tone," Julian warned with a hiss, jabbing a finger at Travis, who didn't fail to notice it was bandaged. The vet didn't care enough to respond. There was complete silence for a hot minute, and Julian continued talking, "You know, I still can't figure out why you did it..." He said, tilting his head while looking down at Travis, who remained completely unmoving, besides his eyes, which stared at the sadistic man-child like no other burden.

Julian went on, "You wanted to protect the others? Or you wanted to prove a point?" Julian walked past Travis, going to the window, pulling back the curtains, and peering out of a small crack. "Maybe you wanted to end your miserable, insignificant life?" Julian moved back away from the window, peering down at Travis, tilting his head, "I don't know. Maybe you're just a masochist?" He wondered aloud.

Travis was done with this little shit. He just lay there, closing his eyes, ignoring him.

"DON'T IGNORE ME." Julian shouted.

Travis's eyes snapped open, and he glared blankly at the man standing above him, but his heavy breath revealed the true fury underneath.

Julian stared back, silence filling the room once more for a moment. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head in disappointment, gaze still trained on the vet, "Holy shit. Your pride's still scraping along? Seems you didn't get the memo behind your beating, didja?"

Travis poured all his hatred into his eyes and managed the dirtiest glare he could muster. "Shut Up." He spit venomously.

"Are you serious? Big demands coming from a ragdoll." Julian said, stepping on Travis's left wrist, leaning forward on it. Travis's face stiffened from the hard heel, but he made no sound.

"I still can't believe you took the fucking whip to prove a point! How dumb are you?" Julian scoffed, moving his heel and crouching down next to Travis's head.

Travis was too fatigued and broken to curse Julian out, or even care anymore. Travis lay there, eyes closed, and Julian stared at him, observing him.

"I loved those sounds you made," Julian said, almost wistfully.

An unpleasant, prickly chill went down Travis's spine.

"Those screams... how you sobbed for relief..." Julian said. Travis could feel Julian's breath on his cheek and could hear him shifting.

"Sobbing? Not how I remember it..." Travis mumbled. He sounded detached, but the muscles in Travis's neck stiffened, raising his shoulders up slightly, his back protesting, and he screwed his eyes tighter shut. He knew where this was heading.

"I want you to make more," Julian whispered, his breath flowing into Travis's ear, who cringed. A lump formed in Travis's throat and his breathing sped up, the vet clenching his jaw.

"Sadly, I can't touch you..." Julian said, huffing irritatedly, standing. Travis watched as he walked to the door, opening it, stepping out. He whispered something to someone out of view, and took one more glance at Travis, giving a sour look, before disappearing down the corridor.

In walked Bevans and another man. "Don't stir. This will be painless." Bevans said.

The other man approached. Travis realized he was holding a needle. Travis could barely fight back before he was pricked in the arm, being injected with something as he tried shoving away the man's hands.

The man moved back, and both stood there, watching Travis, who glared up at them, trying to get up on his elbows, but the pain of his back driving him back down. Since that didn't work, he just lay there, glaring up at Bevans and the other staff member, his eyes stinging.

Slowly he began feeling the effects. The room became dimmer, and the agony of his body slipped away. He let his eyes slip closed for only a moment, feeling only longer than a blink, and he found himself in a brightly lit hospital room.

He lifted his head, looking around wildly, his eyes wide, accidentally leaning forward and pulling the slashes on his back, tight, but not too intense pain shooting through his body. He groaned and stiffened, then forcing himself to relax, the pain subsiding.

He was propped up on some thick pillows, his legs and abdomen covered by a blanket. He wore a hospital gown, and the stench of metallic blood was gone. He lifted his arm, which felt as heavy as bricks, to lift open his shirt and look underneath it. There were wrappings over his chest and shoulders, probably for his back.

He sighed, dropping his shirt and looking more around the room. There were flowers on the dresser next to him. Funny, he didn't know anybody who liked him enough to get him something like that.

He looked past that and noticed a chair at the foot of his bed. In it sat Iris. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. He stared back.

Iris looked like she wanted to hug him, which was a weird feeling having angled towards him. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Like they cared.

Then her face changed, and he knew what she was thinking about. He was thinking of the same thing... The horrid things that took place. Conway getting shot... the shocking... Travis getting whipped almost to death.

Somehow Travis remembered that Iris had been in the game longer than him. She looked physically fine, but she'd witnessed much more than he had. 

Travis felt pressure building in his nose, and his eyes coated with tears. "You won?" He asked dully, head tilting away as he stared at the ceiling.

"Yes..." Iris said timidly, seemingly knowing he'd ask.

Travis looked back at her, his frame trembling, "Did anyone else...?" Survive. He lapsed, his voice diminishing, eyes fluttering from one spot on the ceiling to another. He knew what she'd say, but he needed to die.

She pressed her lips together and hung her head, on the verge of tears. "No, no one..." She whispered, almost too quiet to hear. "You shouldn't have survived, either... They, they were going to let you die, but I changed my brother's promised medical treatment with yours..."

Travis stared at her, eyes widening, "No... Iris, why-?"

"He..." Iris paused, on the verge of tears. Travis let her take her time. Iris breathed out slowly, calming her heart, "I, uh, got back home... and found him..." Her eyes moved from place to place, staying low, "He'd... overdosed." She finished, pushing out a sharp sigh.

Travis stared at her, and his eyes slowly found their way to his hands. "Iris, I..." He didn't know what to say. He knew her brother was the only reason she'd gone to that dinner party in the first place... And now he was gone. If only her brother knew just how selfish he was being by dying. All the pain he'd caused.

He clenched his eyes closed, pressing his lips together, huffing out a breath through his nostrils, "I..." He paused again, his tears finally tipping over. He wiped them away roughly, with his right arm's bandages, not feeling any pain from his arm, thanks to the meds he was on.

"That's tough..." He whispered, the breath from his lungs pushing out with sincerity.

Iris nodded in thanks. "Shepard said... They said they'd pay for your medical expenses, but they couldn't let you leave..." Iris looked at him, eyes fluttering. Travis stared back at her, his expression tired and unchanging.

Iris went on, "I, I bought you on a condition..." She said, the admittance making her uncomfortable, as it seemed to make Travis, whose jaw tightened, "They said you have to stay with me... That if you leave, they'll hunt you down..." She said, wincing as she looked at him like he would freak out.

There was a pause, and Travis sighed, "Iris, you don't want me." He said tenderly.

Iris looked at him like he'd just killed a kitten, "Travis... I do. If I didn't, I would've left you there." She said. There wasn't a bit of truth to her words. She inhaled, "I had no issue letting the others... pass." She said, getting choked up a little.

"Yes you did," Travis said frankly, staring at her. She stared back. He could see the guilt in her eyes spilling into this white-walled space.

The room was silent for a long minute, until he nodded, in a daze, his eyes far away, "I was about to get evicted from my apartment, so I've got nowhere else to be." He said, reaching behind himself, features and body stiffening, trying to shift his pillows.

Iris moved forward, grabbing his pillows and fluffing them, arranging them to be easier to sit up. She moved away, and he nodded to her in thanks, Iris sitting at the foot of his bed. She stared at the sheets, "You... You can't leave the house without me unless I tell them in advance... If you do, they'll kill you..." Iris said.

Travis was still. He sighed halfheartedly, closing his eyes and lying back into his pillows, relaxing. "A second chance..." He mumbled.

The door opened, and in walked a nurse. She looked suddenly somber when she saw Travis was awake. "Oh, you're awake." She said. "We didn't expect that for another two days."

Travis looked at Iris, who glanced back. So he'd been napping for two days. He looked back at the nurse. She cleared her throat, "Uh, your medical expenses were paid for in advance by Shepard Lambrick... The billionaire."

"A friend of ours." Iris lied, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

The nurse raised a brow, "Rich friends..." She said, looking at her pad. She tucked it under her arm, turning to Travis, "Now that you're stitched up, you can go home in a week..."

Travis nodded, "Great." He said enthusiastically.

"We'll be coming in every two hours to numb you up because of your high tolerance." The nurse said and left.

"They're not curious how this happened?" Travis asked Iris.

Iris sighed, "Enough money and they won't even bat an eye." Iris said. She laughed, though there was no humor in her smile, "They don't even care who you are. They're just calling you John Doe."

"What about the police?" Travis asked, closing his eyes tiredly, the world swimming around him.

"I, I don't know. Paid off, too?" Iris answered.

"Fucking cucks," Travis grumbled his stress and nausea building, lifting his hand and pressing the ridges of his knuckles against his brow. He felt a hand on his knee, and he opened his eyes, finding Iris smiling tenderly at him.

"All that matters is that we're alive." She said, voice hopeful.

Travis closed his eyes, pressure building in his head in the form of a headache. "Yeah, sure..." He mumbled, placing his hand over his eyes, covering them. He thought of the faces of all the other people at the dinner party. All those folks were dead now... Lucas, Linda, Peter, Amy, Cal... All of them. He would've taken all of their sufferings if he could've. He wished he could've...

"How did they all die?" Travis asked, brow scrunched and chest aching.

"We can't change anything that happened..." Iris said, a thickness building in her throat.

"I know..." Travis whispered, so softly it almost sounded like wind.

They were silent. Travis knew what Julian would say if he were here. "There goes the ragdoll's pride."