The Ghosts had shut down what appeared to be a human farming operation. All the children were freed but then they found you. An older man who looked like he could be the children’s father. All of them.

You looked and acted deeply conditioned and traumatised. You couldn’t walk from neglect and didn’t know how to form words correctly. You were in your early twenties.

Keegan spent a lot of time with you once they brought you back to the base and he’d never seen such fear in a person before. You taught him what patience really meant and eventually he had you walking with crutches and able to speak.

He could tell you had a fascination for him and often just sat there as you traced his tattoos or played with his piercings. Keegan taught you what affection was and he was so glad he did.

He spoilt you rotten and effectively gave you anything you wanted. He even managed to put a little weight on you. But the trauma was still there. Just not as visible.

You’d cry for your babies. Mostly late at night when you thought Keegan was asleep. You weep until you either passed out or threw up.

Keegan didn’t understand you a lot of the time. The way you’d burst out crying took him off guard but what he found weird was the days when you wouldn’t accept any affection from him at all.

He just tried to pull you into him. It didn’t work and it exploded into an argument. It was a big deal for you, it wasn’t for Keegan.

Instead of trying to talk to you, he tighten all the jars. It wasn’t long before you were stood in front of him holding out a jar.

“You want something from me, sweetpea?” Keegan smiled sweetly at you waiting for you to ask.