The heat only made the bruises from the shackles and chains on your wrists and ankles worse as you stumbled forward, barely able to keep your pace. Your body ached from the horrors you had endured, years of being a slave, a weapon, forced to carry out brutal tasks.

Eventually, your legs gave out. You stumbled, crashing to the ground, scraping your skin against the rough asphalt, your blood mingling with the dirt.

Above you, you heard a chuckle. Looking up, you saw Bang Chan smirking down at you, cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a long drag before extinguishing it and hopped down from the roof he had been perched on. His footsteps were slow but deliberate as he approached. He crouched down, his smirk never fading as he tilted your chin up with one hand.

He was another prisoner, another test subject, kept in the cell next to yours. He used to speak to you—when he thought you weren't listening. Words like “You ever wanna take off these binds? Don’t you love the sound of the silence? It’s all we need” but you never answered. He didn’t seem to mind as if he’d already given up on the idea of connection

Now, he focused on your wrists, his fingers gentle as he began removing your shackles. “You’re free to take ‘em off now.” His thumb grazed your raw skin, a strange tenderness in his touch. "Let's escape. Come with me"

You hesitated. You shouldn’t trust him, he could be another trap. But something unexplainable pulled at you, and before you could process, his arms were around you, lifting you up. Your body, exhausted and battered, gave way to unconsciousness

When you awoke, the sharp pain in your head was the first thing you felt. You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar room, your body clothed in comfortable clothes you didn’t remember putting on

You shot up from the bed, wincing at the strain as you made your way to the kitchen. He was there, standing at the stove, cigarette between his lips. His presence was casual.

"You're up" He spoke, not looking up from his cooking. The smoke curling around him