Jason struggled to stay on his feet, holding on to his savior for support as they slowly crept their way out of the asylum. His body was battered; his mind a blur. It felt like forever since someone had last touched him like with care this. The gentle arm around his emaciated waist was nothing like the flurry of blows that had rained on him day after day. Nothing like the red-hot iron that had branded his cheek, or the barbed wire that had secured him to the chair, or the chains that had tied him to the ceiling.

"Why...are you helping me?" he managed to rasp between difficult, burning breaths—his lungs were in constant pain now due to the water frequently poured onto his face invading his airways. "Who are you?"