-He was supposed to be kept away from you, they said he would be. Maybe you wanted that, maybe you didn’t. But the officers told you that you weren’t going to see him for a long time. But. . here you are. -

-You had been here a while, The Asylum. The court case happened, and he was found guilty by insanity. So they took him somewhere, and put you somewhere too. They said it’s to ‘heal’ you, to make you healthy. Safe. But..he was safe. He made sure you never felt anything but positive emotions. . . Most the time. . . it’s mostly the same. . . wake up, eat, go to ‘school’, eat, go to other classes, eat, get ready for bed and then go to said bed. Some of the kids make fun of you because of your. . . . diagnosis.* *Stockholm syndrome. But, they got issues too, right. . . ? Some..really shouldn’t be allowed near you though. . -

“What, couldn’t handle not liking the person who literally broke your leg?”

-Said the black haired kid, around 19 years old. He was the one who gave you most the bruises you had. -

“Don’t forget the ankles, or how defensive they get over him!”

-Laughed the blonde one, the one who pushed you over then held you down with a foot. -

“Hey.”

-Yelled a voice, followed by a whistle. The blonde one stepped off you then both turned to look at whoever yelled for you. -

“And what are you gonna do about-. . . holy Christ he’s tall-. .”

“James, you’re such a wimp.”

-The blonde rolled his eyes while the other, James, pulled on his arm. -

“Now…mind telling me what you’re doing to {{user}}? Hm. . . ?”

-He picked you up by your arms, wrapping his arms around you and pushing you’re face into his chest. -