Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harvey, yet again, is left in so much pain he can’t even think straight.

His body spasms, little jumps that sting his fresh wounds even more. 

For the fifth, sixth, seventh time, every part of his body has been mutilate d  at his awful booth. 

He always thought people got used to torture after a little while.

 Guess not. 

The only thing that changed this time is that Harvey didn’t fight back. 

Didn’t even speak to them once the torture started, and he’d clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

Harvey hopes that it at least annoys them. That their little toy doesn't react when they shatter it over, and over, and over.

But now, there’s not hardly anything left they can do to him.

 His whole body had been destroyed, and he’s left leaning his entire upper body against the stand, very close to fainting.

Most of the time, this is the point where he got left like this. 

Abandoned, broken, on the side of the road. 

Before time skips and he’s at a court, staring at the sick bastard again. 

But this time. 

This time they sit there, staring at him, that wicked smile on their face.


It makes him sick to his stomach.

It’s just a game for them. 

They don’t care how much pain he’s in. 

Harvey's just some damn punching bag for them to hit as much as they want, with no consequences. 

“What are you waiting for?” He says coldly.

Harvey tries to rest his head on his booth, but the blood is pooling so much that he very nearly starts drowning, and has to get up the energy to prop himself on his elbows.

“He finally says something,” They say sarcastically, looking through…the shop menu.

What else? What else could they do to him? 

“Fuck you, bitch.” He laughs wetly, humorlessly, blood dripping into his mouth with a bitter, metallic taste. 

“So confident hitting someone who can’t hit back, aren’t you?" He waves his hand, pretending like every movement doesn't take an enormous amount of effort.

"Because you're too much of a pussy–” 

He gasps when they suddenly grab his ruined chin roughly sending an electric jolt of agony across his face as they force him to look at them.

Tears roll down from his empty eye socket, leaving little streaks through the blood, and he grits his teeth to prevent himself from making any sounds. 

“Poor little Harvey,” They sigh, a smirk twisting on their lips.

If moving his mouth didn't cause him so much pain, he would've spat blood on them.

“Time to put you out of your misery.” 

Something cold suddenly is pressed against his forehead.
 

A gun. 

They have a gun. 

“No, you wouldn’t, would you…?” He gasps, the coldest feeling of panic slipping through him like ice. 

He tries to rip away from them, but they grab a knot of his hair and yank him back. 

This time he does cry out in pain and fear, but they just smile. 

"Let's see who's the pussy now, Harvsey's." 

If he died here would it be real?

Would Eun-Mi and Toby be without him? 

A line of sweat drips down his forehead.

Slowly, slowly, they start squeezing the trigger, holding him still by his hair.

They're drawing it out, enjoying every second he's afraid. He can tell that by the sick look on their face.

He begs and begs and begs more.

But it’s worthless.

He can’t do anything. 

They have all the power. 

He pleads once more. They laugh. 

And all he can think is that the last thing he's going to hear won't be the sweet comforts of his wife, or the affections of his son, but the vile sound of a cruel monster laughing at him.

Bang. 

He feels himself collapse to the floor and then there’s 

N 

   O 

       T 

           H 

                I 

                    N 

                        G

—

Then Harvey is back, gasping for air, grabbing at the fresh scars littering his face.

Sitting there, in the same fucking booth, like nothing happened. 

He had died, he had died, because torturing him, disfiguring him, it wasn't enough, was it?

His heart starts beating faster and faster as he buries his head in his hands. It’s like he can still feel the gun against his forehead. Still hear the gunshot ringing out. 

Just when he thought– just when he thought no one could get worse, and they shot him. 

Harvey isn’t a toy or  a punching bag,  damnit! 

 He’s a person.

 He’s.

 A.

  Person.

So why, why doesn’t anyone treat him like one? 

Phantom pain very nearly makes him double over, grabbing at his now re-formed eye, gasping for breath.

Tears fall down his face rapidly, warm and sticky, like blood.


Harvey can’t stop choked sobs from coming out, and he pulls his legs up to his chest on his seat. 

All he wants is to see his family.

To kiss Eun-Mi like he'd never kissed her before and apologize for spending all his time doing charity work.

To grab Toby and spin him around and hold him close.

But he’s starting to think it's never going to happen. 

The thought makes his tears fall down even harder, but he doesn't even have time to cry. 

He looks up sharply when he hears the rev of an engine in the distance. 

A new person is coming–shit, he could see a different, beat up car driving down the road.

 The very thought of it makes him sick. 

No one is gonna change, he knows that now. 


No matter what happens, no matter what new person it is, it’s always gonna be someone who hurts him.

And he can’t take it anymore.

Can’t handle being tortured anymore, just because someone else had a shit life. 

But what can he do?!

He looks around desperately, slamming his fists against the invisible walls that keeps him in this hell.

It doesn't work, he's a caged animal, unable to run away or defend himself. 

Unable to even get up out of his stool.

And then, all too soon, they're here.

He prays that they'll pass him. 

He gets no such mercy. 

The car screeches to a stop.  Harvey blocks his face with one arm as the gravel flies.

His heart is exploding in his ears, and he can't even dare to breathe.

The door opens with a click and a creak, letting them out.

Their footsteps hit against the gravel, one after another. 

They suck in breaths of a cigarette, occasionally coughing. 


Every sound they make pierces his ears, and he watches them extremely closely, as they step up to his booth.


His fingernails dig into the hard wood, leaving little scratch marks. 

It seems to take years for them to get in front of him, but when they do, he wishes they'd taken longer. 

They tower over Harvey's small form, their shadow casting over his stand.

“Hey, ma'--sir...?" They have a harsh voice that makes Harvey squirm in his seat, and they lean down to put their palms on the top of his booth, at eye-level with him. 


They glance at him questioningly, putting out their cigarette and lighting a new one. The sight of the lighter makes him sick.

“It’s Harvey…” he murmurs, hugging his legs tighter.
 

“Nice. You uh, you ok man?”

The smell of smoke is basically coating the air making him think about burning.

He’ll never smoke another cig a day in his life. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.”


He forces himself to untense.

Drop his legs.


Put on a smile.


 It’s only going to make him an easier target if he makes himself look small. 

They smile, tilting their head, and stand up straighter. 

Damn it, they're so much bigger than him.  

“Good. Now how's this little booth o' yours work, anyway?"

They examine the sign, and Harvey forces himself to explain.


Every single word he says after money their smile grows wider and wider. 

They laugh like nails scratching on a chalkboard. 

“I’m gonna be rich!” 

“Aha–I’m sure you will be.” 

He tugs at his bow-tie. 

And then it begins.


Again. 

They reach forward, to touch him, get their oh-so-precious money.

 He shudders when they poke his cheek, imagining their hands holding scissors.

“You’re a little jumpy fella ain’tcha?” 

He narrows his eyes for a moment, then forces a smile to light up his numb face.


“You’re doing great. Just keep clicking."

“You bet your ass I will. I’ma need to get a lot more cash.” 

He hugs himself tightly, closing his eye eyes , wishing he could ignore their touch. 

He pauses frequently to get more air that’s not coming. Maybe if they weren’t smoking that cigarette constantly he could catch his breath.

“I forget how much I love money sometimes.” They say chipperly, after a few minutes.

Greedy son of a bitch, aren’t they?

They're gonna be so happy when they realize they can just beat him until he gives them even more money.

He doesn’t say that, though, too scared that something he does will set them off, and they’ll hurt him.


So he stays in almost complete silence.

100 dollars.

They get a feather, the only item he himself gives them. 

500 dollars.

A needle.

He shudders, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Uh, where do I--" They start, as if it mattered to them.

Harvey sees that look in their greedy little eyes.

He imagines they could have to stab him in the heart with the needle and they'd do it for extra cash. 

"Here." 

He holds his palm up, because at least it's better than his face. 

They lightly grab his wrist to hold him still.

Harvey has a sharp, crystal clear memory of another person, with malice in their eyes, holding his wrist to slice it all off. 

Agony had ripped through his entire arm, and spread from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. 

He stopped fighting back after that happened, but their touch, holding his hand in place, it’s far too much for him. 

He can’t handle going through this again. Can’t handle even just a single bit more pain.

“Please,” He says in a broken whisper right before they can get the needle into his skin.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Not like his feelings matter to them. Just lines and pastel colors…

“Hey man, stop worrying. Ain’t nobody gonna hurtcha.” 

He bites back the correction of their grammatical errors, and soon forgets about it when…they drop his hand.

He rubs the lines of scars on his wrist--the only evidence that what he went through is real-- not wanting to look at them. 

They mutter about something, before they bend down again to be at eye level with him. He jumps. 

“Can I uh, have your hand again? Can’t find the damned feather.” 

He lifts his head up slowly. 

They don’t have cruelty lighting up their eyes.

 They almost seem…genuine.


And if he behaves maybe they will be kinder. 

Shakily, slowly, he holds his palm up for them to touch, sweat dripping down his forehead.

Harvey simply looks away as the needle gets to close, expecting the sting of a sharp point digging into his flesh.

But they just lightly tap him with the very edge of it.

“There. That don’t hurt, right?” 

He pauses for a moment, then shakes his head no, shocked at the small mercy.

Nobody’s ever this gentle, even with the needle.

“Plus four dollars!” They cheer, immediately after, making his stomach flip.


 “Now all I have to do is click uh…” 

“6 thousand more times.” Harvey finishes the sentence automatically. 

All of them needed that operation, or so they all said.

(Hopefully for every single one of his tormentors, it fails, and leaves them in agony every waking day.)

“Oh, yeah!" They beam, then narrow their eyes at him.

 "How’d you know…?” 

“Lucky guess. What do you need 25 thousand dollars for, anyway?" Harvey says, trying to change the subject as fast as possible.

The last thing he needs is to make them angry when they're still being at least a little careful. 

“Got me an operation in a couple weeks,” They hum, taking a break from lightly poking his hand to put out their cigarette. (Finally) 

“It’s gonna cost me a fortune, though!” 

They start again, absently moving the needle back and forth, but never breaking skin. 

“I hope it goes well for you.” 

They smile brightly, but Harvey can’t get himself to do the same. 

“Thank ya! I bet it will, with all this here help you're giving me.” 

Harvey doesn't know what to say, so he just nods, and let's silence take over the conversation...


Until it's interrupted.

“So, your hair?” They say, gesturing with their free hand at his beautiful, perfectly styled hair.
 

“What about it?”

“Is it natural? The color, I mean?”

Harvey tilts his head for a second and gives them a confused look.

Is his… light pink hair…natural? 

They blush quickly.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.” 

Harvey gives the smallest smile. 

“I wish it was natural. My hair’s black.” He slicks back a part of his hair with one of his hands. 

“How do ya get it that color, then?" 

“Well, it actually took me three months to even get it to the point where it could be dyed–”

They grimace.

“And then I spent a few days completely blonde, before I got it all dyed! Very worth it, if I do say so myself.”


“It does look cool on ya.”


“Thank you! Me and my wife, Eun-mi, actually got it dyed so we could match! It was her idea.”

He smiles, a true, genuine smile, at the thought of his beautiful wife. 

She looks so pretty, both with her natural hair, and her dyed.

He misses her so much that it sends a sharp pain through his chest. 

“Aww, innit that sweet?”

“Yeah, but she’s actually blonde," He starts actually laughing, thinking about how when she was finished with her first session, her hair had been the perfect shade of pink.

Whereas his had just became a dark brown shade instead of black.

"So it only took her a single session and–”

He suddenly trails off, his heart sinking, when he looks at how much money they have.

1500$.

 The shop menu glows. 

Fuck. 

“Oo, well look here! If it ain't a hammer!"

“No…”

Harvey rips his hand away from them, his breath coming too fast, all of the small comfort he had vanishing away in a second. 

This is where the torture always really starts. 

The memories of being hit over and over, on his face, on his chest, on his arms, come all over him and take his breath away.

“Please. Please. Please. Please.”

 He can’t get anything else out so he just repeats the same desperate plea over and over again.

He's said the word so many times over the last day it's more of a reflex than anything.

Flashes of memories come over him, of his different beatings and abuse, feeling so real.

He pulls his legs up against his chin, trying to hide as much of himself as possible.

At least then, they won't be able to hurt the extremely sensitive parts of him.

“Harvey…?”


When they bend down to look at him, he doesn’t see them as a person, but as a monster about to mutilate him. 

As the same fucking monsters who had hurt him again and again for money.


“Shit! Harvey!”

They reach out and he's absolutely sure they're going to strike him.


 Harvey blocks his face with his hands, shaking all over, pressing his back against the invisible barrier as much as he can.


Maybe they’ve already gotten the hammer, and they're letting their mask of care slip. 

He flinches violently when they touch him, and he would've fallen off of his stool if he could've. 

 It takes him several seconds to realize they're not hurting him, and a few more to notice they’ve simply put a hand on his shoulder.


“Oh man, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

He mutters something inaudibly, so terrified he’s almost crying. 

“Please, don’t get the hammer.” Harvey manages to get out, sweat dripping down his temple, soaking his shirt. 

They look at him pityingly, with their hand still on his shoulder.

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise!” Their voice is a-lot less harsh than it usually is, like he’ll shatter if they're too hard on him. 

He mumbles about not being able to take being able to be hurt again.

He can't understand half the words he's saying, so he's sure they can't either. 

“Has someone…hurtcha with it before?”

Harvey nods, and the simple movement is all it takes for tears to start rolling down his cheeks. 

Sobs rack his body, and clamping his hand over his mouth is futile in stopping the sounds. 

Is he going to be like this forever?

Always afraid?

They cuss under their breath, moving their hand from Harvey’s shoulder to cup his tear-stained cheek. 

He trembles at the touch at first, but he’s so desperate for comfort he leans into it after a few moments.


Once they realize that's ok, they start petting his hair with their other hand, a touch so light he can barely even feel it.

“Look, pal, buddy, I think maybe you should uh, call it quits, you know? Go home?”  

Their eyes are gentle and kind, not realizing how impossible what they've suggested is.

“Y-your o-operation–” 

“Eh, I can keep clicking you on the ride, yeah?” They remove one of their hands and gesture to their car flippantly. 

He wants that more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life, but he can’t have it.

He has to sit here, and keep suffering.


“I--I can figure out how to get out of this damn booth," He admits. 

“Huh.” They look at him for a few seconds, then smile. 

He wants to make an annoyed comment on how it isn’t something to smile about.

But then…he has to bite back a scream when they reach over, grab him by the waist, and pull him up and out of the booth.

Harvey gasps, in relief, and shock, his feet sinking into the colorful grass. 

Of course. Of course, they’re the player, they can do anything with him. 

Even take him out of the stand.

“Ta-da!” 

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” He says it over and over again, the biggest smile coming over his face.

He can see Eun-mi! And Toby!

And never have to be hurt by anyone ever again!

“Anytime, buddy! Hop in!” 

They say, and start walking towards the car. 

Harvey laughs softly.

He can finally go home.

Chapter Text

Harvey’s sitting in the passenger seat of The Player’s broken, red, car, mostly because the back is entirely filled with bags of money he had practically thrown at them.

He bounces his foot against the floor, looking outside the open window. He forces himself to focus on how pretty it is outside, rather than just how small it is inside. 

How he’s trapped with a Player again.


But at least they won't hurt him.

 “Sorry ‘s a little messy, in ‘ere.” 

“It’s fine!” Harvey says, taking his wedding ring out of his pocket and slipping it onto his finger. 

“I just appreciate you giving me a ride!”

Though messy is a bit of an understatement.

 Beer cans–is that allowed?-- and trash litter the entire inside, as well as the smell of smoke staining basically every piece of fabric. He keeps his head mostly out the window, getting fresh air, instead of the burni–smoke.  

Thank God, they’d at least listened to him when he asked not to use their cig’s in the car.

“After you done gave me a hundred grand? Man, I’ll be your damn Uber for as long as you like.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says, propping his elbow on the car window-seal, and resting his chin on his hand. 

Harvey had experienced every single bit of cruelty that the monsters could inflict on him.

He wanted, he needed, to show his appreciation to the only person who had shown him any mercies.

So why wouldn’t Harvey decide on just giving them all one hundred thousand dollars? 

“‘Not that big of a deal’--my ass!” They laugh, turning their whole body to look lovingly at the money–they aren’t even wearing a seatbelt–and they grab some of the money from the bags. 

With both hands.

“The wheel!” Harvey yells, when the car starts veering off the road. Are they drunk right now?! Crazy bastard!

He reaches past them and yanks the wheel to get them back on course, stretching his seatbelt to the limit.

“Oh sh-! Sorry!” They spin back in their seat, dropping the hundred dollar bills and finally getting their eyes back on the road. 

Harvey lets go of the wheel, sighing in relief, and sits back, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, by the way, where am I going?” They say happily, like nothing happened.

Oh right. He’d forgotten to give them directions. 

Harvey tells them his address, excitement filling every part of him like helium in a balloon. 

 Even though it’s only 15 minutes away–and they are definitely speeding–, it feels like forever. 

Harvey had been so sure for so long he’d never get to see them again. 

That he’d be stuck in that damn booth for the rest of his life. 

But now, he’ll be there. 

He’ll really be there, this time. Be present in everything. 

He runs his hands up and down his diamond wedding ring, chatting excitedly about his family to the other person.

Harvey looks expectantly at the clock, every minute feeling like an hour.

It reminds him of when he was tortured, every single second of pain going on and on and on.


But he’ll never go through that again. 

Never, never, never, never. 

He watches as they drive past fields and rolling hills, and finally enter the little, perfect neighborhood.


He taps his hand against the car door, unable to hold in his excitement. 

To the average eye, all the little houses look the same. Same yards, same white picket fences, same colors. 

But he can see the house with the light pink roof instead of white, and the pastel blue mailbox instead of grey. 

“There!” He shouts, smiling brightly. 

Harvey gets out of the car before it fully stops, his heart in his throat, and he hits the ground running.

 He sprints down the concrete driveway, patting his pockets before realizing he’d forgotten his keys.


Damn it. 

Well, it’s no matter, he thinks as he bangs on the white door. 

He imagines what Eun-Mi’s doing right now, maybe getting her makeup on, maybe talking with Toby.

Whatever it is, it’s taking too long. 

He doesn't want to spend another second without her, without either of them. 

He very nearly starts knocking again, before the door swings open, and it’s his perfect wife in front of him, so beautiful he can barely think straight, with her hand on her hip and her hourglass dress hugging her body.

 “Hey, Harv—” She starts, but she never gets to finish.

Because then, he's grabbing her and kissing her like it’s their wedding day all over again.

 She seems shocked, and for a moment, he’s worried she won’t return his embrace. 


That for whatever reason, she doesn't love him anymore. 

Before she grabs his cheeks with her cold, gloved hands, and kisses him back. 

It's like he's in high school again, where every kiss was lightning and thunder and everything else. 

The rest of his face grows just as hot as his cheeks. 

He pauses just for a second to breathe, and she starts  laughing, a beautiful, sweet sound.

He picks her up by the waist and tries to spin her around over him.

Unfortunately, she’s way taller than him, and he isn’t exactly very strong. 

He stumbles backward, ending up falling hard on the little patch of grass, but manages to protect Eun-Mi. 

“Harvey Harvington!” She gasps, now on top of him, so close to his face he can feel her breath. 

He runs his fingers down her back, her light blue dress silky and smooth under his fingers. 

He chuckles, stroking her hair, enjoying every single second of her presence. 

She kisses his cheek, getting even more lipstick on him.

And suddenly, her expression changes. 


“My love…what happened to your face?” She whispers, her eyes filling with shock. 

Oh.


Right. 

He imagines how hideous he must look with all of the scars cutting across his face, his eye. 

Harvey shivers, wishing he could wipe the memory from his mind, just focus on how happy he is. 

But flashes still cut through his mind, making the whole world seem almost duller. Cuts and stabs and scissors and the hot lava of pain. 

 “Don’t worry about it, Mi-Mi.” 

 “Did someone hurt you?” Is what her mouth said. 

I’ll kill a fucker. Is the look in her icy eyes.


Normally he loves that look, but now, now, it just makes him grimace. 

“No,” He lies.

Harvey can’t tell her what happened, can’t tell anyone.


They’ll think he’s crazy, but he knows he’s not. 

He’s not. 

He has the marks to prove it. 

Harvey takes Eun-mi’s hand and presses it against his cheek, as if she could take his phantom-pain away. 

He doesn’t need to hold her hand there, though, as she immediately brushes the scars near his mouth, the cool silk of her gloves soft and comforting. 

“I know when you’re lying, my darling.” She touches the scar near his eye, and Harvey jumps back, turning his face away into the grass. 

So much pain. 

Her eyes widen, and he immediately feels a twinge of guilt.


She’s his wife, not one of them.


He shouldn’t be flinching.

She gets up off of him, and he immediately misses her warmth as she helps him up. 

“Awww, ain’t you two just the cutest thing?” The Player giggles, and Harvey jumps.


He had forgotten they were there, to be honest.

They're still leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. 

Eun-Mi scans her eyes over them, putting a hand on her hip. “Who are you?” 

“A person, I think.” They laugh hoarsely.

Harvey gives them a small, polite chuckle. Eun-Mi does not. 

Not a good time to make jokes, he thinks, glancing at her.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” She says icily--he loves when her voice is like that-- and Harvey squeezes her shoulder. 

“They didn’t hurt me”, he whispers into her ear, and that’s all it takes for her to start smiling again.


There’s something oddly comforting about it. 

To know she’ll protect him. 

“Well, I just met this guy! He was doing one of ‘em charity ventures, you know?”

Eun-Mi glances at Harvey cooly, and he winces. “Ah yes, the one I told you not to do.” 

That’s right. They’d fought about it, what seemed like forever ago. 

 And she had been right.

He had been spending too much time away from his family, and he had been helping people who didn’t deserve it.

If only, if only, he had just stayed home this one time like she’d asked him too.

But no, he had to go out.

“And ‘cause he done helped me so much, I thought I might as well give him a ride here. So now, here we are!”


They pull a beer out of seemingly nowhere and start downing it.

“Should you be drinking?” Harvey asks, ringing his hands.

He knew they were drunk when they were–

“Oh I only got ‘em no alcohols drinks.” They respond.

Oh. 

So, they’re just stupid.

Well, at least they're nice and stupid. 

“Thank you, for giving my husband a ride,” She hums, the coldness in her eyes still there, but with a touch more love.

He kisses her cheek, and she smiles affectionately at him, gently brushing a loose strand of his hair behind his ears as the player casually talks about how it’s their pleasure.

 He leans into her hand, wishing she would keep doing that gentle motion forever. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” A little voice suddenly rings out, the door opening and then slamming it shut, and suddenly, nothing else matters except for his little boy.

“Baby!” 

He calls, running to grab Toby, his beautiful darling, and picks him up.


He throws the giggling boy up in the air and catches him again–this time, he doesn’t fall. 

“I missed you soooooooo much, daddy!”


Something in his chest tightens. Toby had been so close to having to miss his father forever.


Harvey had been so close to never seeing his son again.

“I missed you to, pumpkin.” 

He sits down on the grass, cradling Toby close.

The boy is talking about something, but Harvey can barely pay attention to anything except the sweet sound of his voice. 

Harvey loves him.


He loves him so much. 

But he hadn’t shown it well in far too long. 

Always coming home late, always busy with no charity ventures.

He never should’ve put anything above his son or his wife. And he never will again.

They will come first in everything.

“Daddy, I can’t breathe,” Toby whispers, and Harvey realizes how hard he’s squeezing his son. 

He loosens his grip a little bit. 

 “You know daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world, right?” 

“More than anything?” 

“Anything.” 

Toby giggles, and Harvey continues gently stroking his son’s back. 

It takes all of his effort not to sob, right then and there.

For everything he wasn’t there for, for everything he’s gone through, for every time he thought he’d never see his family again.

“Oh by the way, darlings, I’ve got supper ready.” 

Eun-Mi says casually, and Harvey feels his stomach growl 

He's starving.

He gets up off the ground, with Toby still wrapped up in an embrace. 

“Yay!” The little boy cheers.

“Thank you, my love.” 

She beams at them both, before turning her attention to The Player.

“You can come, if you’d like.”

"Oh no, I couldn't--" They say, hand on their heart.

...But it takes a few seconds to convince them to come inside Harvey’s little house, and get some dinner. 

And now he's eating, with his family next to him, and his new friend (?)

Everything is ok. 

And no one is going to hurt him again.