Archive of Our Own

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It was cold. Quiet and cold. Max was cold—no, Max was freezing and shivering as he opened his eyes. Concrete met his face. Rough, cold, and unyielding. He hadn’t seen concrete like that since he left for camp. . . . Camp. Max wasn’t at camp. He was anywhere but camp. He wanted to go back to camp. To see his friends. To feel safe. He didn’t even let himself say it out loud, but the thought was there, gnawing at him as he pushed himself off the floor and looked around the room. It was small, barren. Just walls of gray concrete, a single wooden beam in the corner, and a heavy, rusted door sitting at the top of a short staircase. The cold air seemed to settle in his lungs as he moved. His hands brushed his arms, trying to get some warmth back, but it wasn’t helping. The sound of hinges creaking made him freeze. The door opened slowly, and footsteps descended the stairs. It wasn’t Camp Man’s boss.It wasn’t the groundskeeper.It wasn’t David or Gwen.It wasn’t even that Daniel guy. It was someone else. A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs, tan skin and dark hair that hung in his face. He didn’t seem in any rush, walking with deliberate steps. Max instinctively backed away, his eyes darting to the beam, the walls, the door—anything he could use to defend himself or escape. Then the smell hit him. Rot. It was faint at first, but the closer the man got, the stronger it became. Max gagged, one hand flying up to cover his nose and mouth. God. What the fuck was that smell? He barely had time to process it before a cold, heavy hand touched his face. The unexpected contact sent a jolt of panic through him, snapping him back into the moment. “Who the fuck are you?” Max said, his voice low, trembling. He wasn’t yelling—he was scared. The man chuckled softly. “I’m... I’m nobody.” “You some perv who likes kids?” Max blurted out, trying to land on something, anything that would hit a nerve. But the man didn’t flinch. “I don’t like kids,” the man replied with a shrug. “But I like you, Max~.” Ew. “So you are a perv?” Max said, his voice laced with defiance and disgust. The man chuckled again, like it was all some kind of joke. “Some people would say that.” The man turned away, leaning against the wooden beam as if he owned the room. Max kept his distance, watching every movement. The man paced back and forth, his eyes never quite leaving Max. It made him nervous. “Why do you want me? What did I do to you?” Max finally asked. His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. He needed answers. “You’re pretty,” the man said with a sigh, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Max stiffened, his stomach twisting into knots. He opened his mouth to respond, but the man spoke again before he could get a word out. “I have one question, though.” Max glared. “What?” “Have you started your cycles yet? I know some start at nine or thirteen—” “What the fuck did you just say to me?!” Max’s voice shot up in shock and fury, cutting the man off. “So I assume that’s a yes. Great!” The man smiled, almost proud of himself. Max stared at him, wide-eyed, as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He felt like the walls were closing in, his brain struggling to process the words coming out of this creep’s mouth. “I have a plan, Max—or do you prefer Mila? Hm? Are you a girl or a boy? Tell me.” Max’s chest tightened. The room felt colder, smaller, as the man’s words sank in. Who the fuck was this guy? What the fuck was he talking about? “Why am I here? Who—who are you?!” Max finally burst out, his voice cracking with panic. The man blinked slowly, like Max’s reaction was somehow surprising. “William. I’m William. I already told you that.” “I—” Max started, but William cut him off with a sudden question: “Are you a girl or a boy?” The way he asked it—so plain, so casual—made Max’s skin crawl. “I’m a boy,” Max replied roughly, his voice low and sharp. William tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into an almost curious smile. “Really? Hmm. Boys don’t have a uterus.” Max’s blood ran cold. How... How the hell did he know? Okay, now Max was really starting to freak out. His hands clenched into fists, his brain scrambling for a way to respond. He forced himself to say the first thing that came to mind. “Some boys do,” Max blurted out, his voice sharper than he intended. William smiled sweetly at that, his expression almost too soft, too fake. “True,” he said, his voice as smooth as syrup. “But boys aren’t supposed to be pretty, though.” Max stiffened as William took a step closer, smirking now. “You were always a boy?” William asked, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “Fuck—” Max started, but William cut him off again, wagging a finger. “Ah ah ah, no need to answer, Maxey,” William said, his voice dropping into a sickeningly playful tone. Max’s breathing quickened as William’s smirk widened. “You were a little girl just a year ago, right?” Max’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as panic surged through him. “How… who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling but sharp. “I’m Will—” William started, but Max’s scream tore through the room, cutting him off. “HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Max’s voice cracked, pitching higher, a desperate mix of anger and fear. His chest heaved as he glared at the man, his entire body trembling. William’s expression didn’t falter. He simply smiled, that same unnervingly calm, kind smile, as though Max’s outburst was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Doesn’t matter,” William said softly. “It won’t make sense until it’s done. Still, Max…” His tone turned playful, almost taunting. “You never answered my question. You were a female just 12 months ago, hmm?” Max’s fists clenched tightly at his sides. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to stand tall. “Doesn’t matter,” Max shot back, his voice shaking yet determined, “like you said.” It was as firm as an eleven-year-old on the verge of a complete meltdown could muster. But William’s smile didn’t fade. In fact, it seemed to grow wider, colder. Before Max could even process it, William’s hand shot out, wrapping tightly around his small throat. It happened so fast. One second, Max was standing. The next, he was slammed against the wall, his feet dangling off the floor. His hands flew up, clawing at William’s grip as his air supply thinned. His vision blurred slightly, but he still glared down at the man. “Mila~,” William cooed, his voice dripping with mock affection. “Sweetheart, that’s not how this is gonna work, deary~.” Max’s gaze locked with William’s, defiant despite the panic surging through him. His voice was hoarse, but he managed to choke out, “Screw off, perv.” William’s laugh was low and deep, the sound echoing in the empty room like a predator toying with its prey. Then, without warning, he threw Max down. Max hit the concrete floor hard, the impact sending a searing jolt of pain through his back. He screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as agony radiated through his small body. He had been beaten before—belts, pans, fists—he was no stranger to pain. But this? This was different. This wasn’t a belt leaving red welts. This wasn’t the sting of a slap. This felt like his spine had shattered, like his bones were splintering one by one. The pain was so overwhelming that his vision blurred, tears spilling uncontrollably as he gasped for air. What the fuck… Max lay on the floor, his body trembling, every nerve screaming. The cold concrete seemed to pull the heat from him, amplifying the pain. He tried to move, but every slight shift sent shockwaves through his body. William stood over him, his shadow looming, his smile still in place. It felt like his body was shaking, like it was twisting and churning into itself. Every nerve screamed as he sat there, his mind barely able to process the overwhelming pain and terror. William let out a long sigh as if bored by the entire ordeal. Without a hint of hesitation, he grabbed Max by the arms and propped him up against the wall, forcing him to sit upright. William crouched down to Max’s level, their faces uncomfortably close. Max wanted to pull away, to scream, but his body wouldn’t obey. “See what I mean, sweetheart?” William said, his tone mockingly sweet. Max didn’t answer. He couldn’t. William grabbed Max’s head, using his hand to tilt it up and down in a forced nod. “See? Good job!” The words felt like venom, sinking into Max’s skin. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps as William patted his shoulders like he’d just done something commendable. “Well,” William said, standing up and dusting his hands off like he’d just finished a chore. “Now I gotta go. I’ve got to head upstairs. Goodnight.” With that, he turned away, climbing the stairs with deliberate, heavy steps. He didn’t even look back. The door creaked shut, and the metallic click of the lock echoed through the room. Max sat there, frozen. The silence of the basement was deafening, the only sound the faint hum of his own ragged breathing. Shock. Utter shock. His body trembled uncontrollably, and his stomach churned, a sick, hollow feeling spreading through his chest. And then it hit him. All of it. He sobbed. He sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face in hot, messy streaks. It wasn’t just the pain from being dropped or the bruises forming on his back. It was everything. The realization. He had been kidnapped. He was stuck in some pervert’s basement, a prisoner in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. And all the man did was drop him from a wall like he was nothing. Like he was disposable. He felt broken. Completely broken. Shattered. The sobs wracked his small frame as he curled in on himself, his arms clutching his knees as though holding himself together. There was no camp.No David or Gwen.No friends.Just the cold, the concrete, and the unrelenting weight of his reality. Broken. Shattered. And alone. . . . “I wanna go home,” Max whispered, his voice cracking as the words spilled out of him. They were quiet, barely audible, but in the suffocating silence of the basement, they felt deafening. His small body trembled as he curled onto the cold, unforgiving floor. His arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if holding on might somehow keep him from falling apart completely. His eyes squeezed shut. Not because he was asleep—no, sleep felt impossible—but because keeping them open hurt too much. The world around him, the concrete walls, the dim light, the stench of rot—it all pressed down on him like a weight he couldn’t bear. He just wanted to disappear. He didn’t sob anymore. He didn’t scream or fight. He just lay there, silent and trembling, his mind spiraling into itself. “I wanna go home.” The words echoed faintly in his own head, a desperate, fragile plea to no one. But no one came. No one answered. The room stayed cold, the silence unbroken, and Max stayed on the floor, his eyes closed to a world he didn’t want to see.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Stars. Through the too-high-to-reach window, that’s all Max could see. He lay on the cold floor, staring up at them as they blinked faintly in the dark sky. They were so far away, distant and untouchable. Eventually, the stars faded, replaced by the soft hues of dawn as the sky welcomed the sun. Another day. Somehow, Max felt a little less scared. Maybe it was because time was moving forward, and with every passing second, there was a chance—just a small, fragile chance—that someone might find him. That someone might bring him home. Or better yet, back to camp. He watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky, their soft shapes carried by the wind. The trees outside swayed gently, dancing in time with the breeze. Birds hopped along the narrow window ledge, pecking curiously at the glass. It almost felt peaceful. But Max knew better. Peace never lasted long. Peace was just the calm before the storm. And, of course, the storm came. The door creaked open. Max stiffened at the sound but kept his gaze locked on the window. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room, slicing through the silence. “Hey, sweetheart~,” William’s voice rang out, sing-song and playful. Max ignored him, his stomach twisting. “I got you some breakfast,” William continued. Max hesitated before glancing over his shoulder. Food. A McDonald’s bag sat in William’s hand. He pulled out a container of pancakes and two sausages—simple, but undeniably tempting. “I know you’re upset about yesterday,” William said with a syrupy tone, setting the food down in front of Max. “So, I got you a treat. I hope you can forgive me.” Max stared at the food, his stomach growling despite himself. But the way William said it—like this was some kind of apology, like he was doing Max a favor—made him feel sick. Ew. Ew. Fucking ew. “You think this is a joke? Do you think this is funny?” Max snapped, glaring up at William. God, if only he were tall enough to wipe that smug look off the man’s face. “Kinda,” William replied with a shrug, his grin widening. “Only funny ’cause you’re cute.” Max’s stomach twisted in disgust. “You’re nasty.” William’s smile dropped like a switch had been flipped. The lighthearted mockery in his eyes darkened, replaced by something cold and unreadable. Without a word, he let the food drop from his hand. The bag hit the floor with a dull thud, and before Max could react, William kicked it toward him. The force sent it sliding across the concrete floor until it hit the wall next to Max. Max flinched but quickly recovered, pulling the bag toward him. He opened it cautiously, peeking inside before grabbing the food. The moment the smell hit his nose, he instinctively sniffed the pancakes and sausages. William’s voice cut through the room. “Why would I need to poison you?” His tone was firm, clipped. “You’re already here.” Max shot back without missing a beat, “I can’t smell food?” William didn’t respond. He just watched, his cold gaze locked on Max like a predator sizing up its prey. With a stomach that growled louder than his fear, Max ate. He ignored the man’s eyes boring into him, focusing instead on the bland taste of the food. It wasn’t like David’s pancakes. It wasn’t warm or sweet. It didn’t feel like home. Max didn’t like it. But he kept eating. William watched him the entire time, silent and unblinking. Max couldn’t shake the creeping thought that maybe this prick had some kind of pervy food kink. When Max finished, he set the empty container down. He didn’t even have time to catch his breath before William was on him again. A hand shot out, wrapping around Max’s neck. This time, it wasn’t a choke. William’s grip was firm but not crushing as he lifted Max clean off the ground. Max’s legs dangled as he squirmed, his breaths quick and shallow. His small frame trembled, unable to stop the wave of fear crashing over him. Fuck. Not again. Max almost felt tears well Up. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice~,” William cooed, lowering Max back to the ground. Max staggered as his feet hit the cold concrete, his legs trembling beneath him. He limped away as quickly as his body allowed, retreating into the corner like a wounded animal. “Maxey? Mila?” William’s voice sang out, dripping with mockery. He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Did your parents teach you how to be polite? Or did they just beat you all the time?” Max froze. His breath hitched as William’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands gripping his arms tightly as though he could block out the world—and the man standing in it. “I- I didn’t do anything to you—” Max stammered, his voice breaking under the weight of his fear. “Shh,” William interrupted, bringing a finger to his lips. “Shh, sweetheart~” The sound of his voice made Max flinch, but he didn’t dare move. “Just a question, hmm?” William added softly, his tone almost soothing—if it wasn’t so damn sinister. Max’s stomach churned, his body stiffening as he felt the man’s presence linger in the room like a dark shadow. He didn’t answer, didn’t look up, didn’t dare give William anything more than his silence. And still, William waited, that smug grin never faltering. . . . William’s smirk widened, his amusement deepening as he reached into his pocket. Max’s stomach twisted. His muscles tensed as he watched William slowly pull something out. A pill. “Thought you said you didn’t need to drug me,” Max snapped, his voice shaking slightly as he instinctively took a step back. William giggled, his tone lighthearted but sinister. “I don’t want you fighting—” Without warning, William lunged forward. Max barely had time to react before William’s hand clamped down on his face, prying his jaw open. The pill was shoved into his mouth so quickly that Max gagged, trying to twist his head away. William didn’t let up. His grip was vice-like as he forced Max’s jaw shut, holding it firmly in place. “Swallow, sweetheart,” William cooed, his voice soft yet dripping with mockery. Max’s body thrashed as he tried to resist, his small hands clawing at William’s arm. But it was useless. His struggles grew weaker, his lungs burning as he fought for air. The pill slid down his throat, leaving him gagging and coughing as William finally let go. Max crumpled to the ground, gasping. His small frame hit the concrete floor hard, and though his head didn’t hit, pain shot through his back and spine. It was sharp and immediate, spreading like fire through his body as he curled in on himself. “You— you son of a bitch,” Max rasped, his voice hoarse and barely audible as he coughed again, his throat burning. William laughed, a soft, chilling sound that made Max’s blood run cold. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” William teased, crouching down to meet Max’s tearful glare. His smile widened, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s just to help you… relax.” Max tried to glare at him, but his vision was already blurring. His body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the floor. His breathing slowed. And the room started to spin. Not to much longer, hands clasped and crawled Onto his legs..wait, where his pants- max looked down, no shirt, everything but his privates were exposed and the mother fucker was licking all over him. Wait a minute. Oh god.. Oh god please no “s- stop..” the words came out slurred. He felt his hit privates the air… He's fucked. . . . . Max was, without a doubt, fucked. As William’s footsteps faded up the stairs, the door clicked shut and locked behind him. The sound echoed in the cold, empty space, leaving Max alone with his own ragged breathing. He lay there, crumpled on the floor, sobbing and shaking. But this wasn’t the kind of shaking from the freezing cold, the kind that he could rub away with friction or body heat. No, this was the I’m dying kind of shaking. The kind where your body betrays you, trembling uncontrollably, as if it knows something terrible that your mind hasn’t fully processed yet. Max clutched at his chest, his breaths shallow and uneven, as if his lungs couldn’t decide whether to pull in air or give up entirely. His heart raced, pounding like a drum against his ribs. His body felt foreign. Weak. Broken. Tears streamed down his face as his mind replayed everything—the pill, William’s smirk, the way his body refused to fight back. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop any of it. And now? Now he was here. Alone. In pain. And completely powerless. He curled into himself, clutching his knees to his chest as sobs racked his small frame. For the first time in his life, Max didn’t have a plan, a sarcastic quip, or even the energy to push back. All he had were the tears streaming down his face and the hollow ache in his chest. He didn’t know how much time passed—minutes, hours, maybe even days. But one thought kept repeating in his head, over and over again: I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this- “I—no, I... I don’t wanna be alone,” Max gasped, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper. The air around him felt suffocating, pressing down as if it wanted to crush him. The room was still, dark, and cold. But the worst part? The worst part was that he wasn’t alone—he could still feel what had happened to him. That thing—what he had done to him—lingered like a stain, both inside and out. Max’s stomach twisted painfully, and before he could stop it, he was gagging. The bile in his throat burned as it rose, and he couldn’t hold it in. He threw up, the feeling so overwhelming that his body trembled as the disgust overtook him. He sobbed as it splattered on himself, his head spinning, everything inside him turning. The thought of what had happened—what had been done to him—was too much. Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out. He wanted to forget. He wanted to just stop feeling. For a moment, as the tears blurred his vision, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe he did want to die. Not because he had given up, but because it was the only way he could see an end to this, an end to the constant ache that now filled him. The idea of facing another day, or another hour of this kind of pain, seemed impossible. He was trapped. There was no way out. Max curled in on himself, his body shaking violently as the cold began to seep into his bones. His chest felt hollow, like it was collapsing inward, crushed under the weight of everything that had happened to him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max didn’t know how long he had been lying there, his body frozen in place, eyes wide open but not seeing. Time didn’t make sense anymore—each minute bled into the next like a blur of pain and fear. His stomach twisted with hunger, but it was the emptiness inside his chest that he couldn’t shake.He tried to breathe. Tried to focus on the outside world, but everything felt distant, like he was underwater, unable to break through. The silence of the basement pressed in on him, every creak of the house, every shift of the walls, every noise above ground a reminder of his isolation.He had to get out. There had to be a way out.Max’s fingers twitched as the thought passed through his mind—escape. But the weight of everything that had happened, the force of what he’d been through, felt like a chain around his throat, holding him back. He wasn’t strong enough to fight it. He wasn’t strong enough to fight him.But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. So he did try. And he tried. And he tried again, each time believing this time would be different—this time, he'd find a way out. But as the days blurred into each other, nothing worked. Or at least, what Max thought were days.His attempts to escape became a routine—an exhausting cycle of failed plans, each one more desperate than the last. The walls, the door, the small space that seemed to shrink around him with every failed effort. It felt like a sick game to William, like he enjoyed watching Max struggle. Each failure chipped away at him a little more, until Max couldn’t tell if he was losing his mind or just losing hope.Then, one day, it happened.Max was sleeping—if that’s what you could even call it, a restless, painful slumber where his body longed for rest but his mind refused. When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the absence of light. His heart skipped in his chest as he blinked into the sudden darkness, confusion settling in. He reached out, feeling the cold walls, but there was no warmth, no sense of day or night. The faint shadows from the high windows were gone.William.The bastard had covered the windows.Max pushed himself up, his body trembling with cold. It was colder than before, colder than he ever thought it could get. The air seemed heavier, like the walls were closing in. He couldn’t even tell if it was day or night anymore, couldn’t hear the faint sounds from above, the movement of the world outside. The windows had been his only connection to anything beyond the confines of this place. Without them, he was more isolated than ever.And now? Now it was just darkness. Cold. Silent.Max wrapped his arms around his shivering body, teeth chattering as his breath fogged in the air. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt warmth, or comfort, or hope.It was just him. Alone.The hunger in his stomach didn’t help. The ache, the emptiness inside, felt unbearable now, gnawing at him like a constant reminder of how small and helpless he was in this endless nightmare. Max had fought it for so long, but now? Now, he couldn’t even see the light of day. He couldn’t fight against something he couldn’t even see.And all the while, William’s presence loomed over him, like a dark shadow just out of reach.Max shivered harder, closing his eyes against the cold. This was a new kind of hell. .After what felt like an eternity of darkness, the door to the basement creaked open. The familiar sound made Max’s heart jump in his chest, a mixture of dread and anticipation. He didn’t even want to look up, but the light that poured in from the house above him was undeniable. It was warm, a stark contrast to the icy cold of the basement, and it felt like a cruel reminder of everything he was missing—everything he’d lost.William stepped into the dim room, holding a plate of food in his hands. Max’s eyes flicked to it briefly, but it was the other thing that caught his attention. Not a bottle of pills. Not a weapon or anything sinister this time. Just... something else. Something that didn’t make sense.Max’s brain struggled to process it. Everything felt out of place, like the world was twisting around him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. The light from the house filtered through the open door, and the warmth seemed almost unbearable after the cold that had wrapped itself around him for so long.He didn’t know what the hell was going on anymore. His mind couldn’t make sense of it.He was tired. So incredibly tired. His body felt worn down, worn thin, by days—weeks?—of endless torment. He was eleven, but it felt like he’d lived a hundred lifetimes in this basement. How long had it been? It didn’t matter. Nothing made sense anymore.Everything was a blur of confusion and fear. He couldn’t think straight. His head was clouded, his thoughts fragmented. The sound of William’s footsteps, the quiet way he moved closer—it was all so wrong. Everything was wrong.Max stared at William as the man approached, but it wasn’t just his presence that terrified him now. It was everything. Everything about this situation. Why was this happening? Why did it have to be so scary?Why was everything so fucking scary?William’s voice broke through the haze, but Max couldn’t even process what he said anymore. The words just seemed to bounce off his brain, like he was hearing them from underwater. He didn’t want to hear them. He didn’t want to be here.Everything felt suffocating. The warmth from the house, the strange calm in William’s manner—it didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like another trap, another layer of this nightmare he was stuck in.Max’s body tensed, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape.He was stuck. Stuck in his own mind, stuck in the basement, stuck with him.Nothing made sense anymore. And it was terrifying.“Don’t touch me.”The words tumbled out of Max's mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, it didn’t even feel like they came from him. It felt like they came from somewhere deeper—somewhere he didn’t want to acknowledge. Like a version of himself that he’d buried, the part that had finally cracked under the weight of everything.It was strange, almost surreal. Max could feel the words leave his lips, but they felt alien. As if someone else had spoken them for him. The person he didn’t want to be. The person he’d been forced to become. But there was no one there. No one behind him.“Maxey?”William’s voice was soft, almost mocking, and it made Max’s stomach twist. He didn’t know how to feel. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as fear mixed with anger—anger at himself, at this situation, at William. He wanted to scream, but the words stuck in his throat.Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the world. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him win. But even with his eyes closed, he could still feel William’s presence, hovering over him like a dark cloud. The warmth that had come from the house only made him feel more trapped, like he was suffocating in this strange, twisted world.“Don’t touch me,” he whispered again, this time with more force, but it wasn’t enough.It never seemed to be enough. "Maxey?"William's voice was dripping with something—mock concern, amusement, maybe even disappointment. Max didn't know, and he didn't care. His whole body was too tense, his fingers curled into the freezing concrete beneath him as if grounding himself would somehow make any of this real. Or maybe less real. He wasn't sure which he wanted anymore.He heard William take a step closer.Max's breath hitched. His throat burned, his body ached, but most of all, his mind was screaming. Don't come near me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me.He flinched before William even made contact."Hey, hey," William cooed, voice light, sweet—sickly. "No need to be so jumpy, sweetheart~ I was just making sure you were alright. You’ve been so quiet lately.”Max's fingers twitched. "Go to hell," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.William chuckled. "Oh, Maxey, I think we both know that's not happening anytime soon."The sound of the plate shifting against the concrete snapped Max back to reality. Food. That’s what he came down for. Max forced himself to glance at it, but his stomach churned. He wasn’t sure if it was hunger or nausea, but the idea of eating anything while he was watching made his skin crawl.Still, William was waiting. Watching.Max swallowed dryly, keeping his eyes locked on the plate but making no move to take it."Go on," William urged. "Eat. You need your strength, don’t you?"Max stayed still.Another step closer."Maxey," William sighed, his tone dipping into something... different. "You know what happens when you don’t listen."Max shuddered. He didn't want to know.He didn’t need to.Because he already did. Max’s breath was uneven. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else in the room. His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing into his skin as if pain would keep him grounded.He hated this. He hated the way William stood over him, the way he waited, like he was expecting something. Like he wanted something.Max didn’t move.Didn’t eat.Didn’t speak.William sighed. Not frustrated. Not angry. Just… amused.“Maxey,” he said, almost disappointed, like a parent scolding a child. “Why are you making this so difficult?”Max’s hands clenched tighter. His jaw locked.“I just want to help you, sweetheart.” William crouched down, leveling their gaze. Max refused to look at him, his body frozen in place. “You’re all skin and bones. You can’t keep this up forever.”Max forced himself to swallow, throat dry and scratchy.He wasn’t stupid. He knew how this worked.There were only two options: eat willingly, or be forced.William’s patience had a limit.A hand reached out, brushing against Max’s cheek, and before he could stop himself, he flinched hard, his entire body jerking away from the touch.William paused. Then, he smiled.Max’s stomach twisted.“I see,” William hummed, pulling back slightly. “Still so scared of me?” He tilted his head, studying Max like he was a puzzle with missing pieces. "I thought we were getting along better."Max finally forced his voice out, hoarse but sharp."Go fuck yourself."William chuckled, slow and deep, like Max had just told him a joke. He shook his head, standing up and dusting himself off.“Well,” he sighed, “I guess we’ll have to try again later.”Max braced himself.William turned away, stepping toward the stairs. The second his back was turned, Max let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.“But,” William added, glancing back, grinning, “just remember, Maxey… you can’t go forever without eating.”He reached for the door handle.“And when you do finally give in…”The door creaked open.“I’ll be right here.”Then, with a click, the door shut.Locked.Again.And Max was alone.Again.Except he wasn’t sure if he even felt alone anymore.Because William’s voice was still in his head.And it wouldn’t stop.... Max sat there, staring at the plate of food, but he didn’t really see it. His mind was too full of noise—William’s voice, his own thoughts, the suffocating silence of the basement.He hugged his knees to his chest, body curled up tight, trying to make himself smaller.Maybe if he got small enough, he’d disappear.Maybe if he closed his eyes long enough, he’d wake up somewhere else.Camp.He wanted to go back to camp. To the stupid woods, to the awful cabins, to the mosquito bites and David’s endless optimism. To Neil’s sarcasm, to Nikki’s energy.He wanted to go home.But where was home?He didn’t know anymore.The thought made something crack inside him, and before he could stop it, a choked sound forced its way from his throat.He pressed his face into his knees, squeezing his eyes shut, biting down on his lip so hard it hurt.He wouldn’t cry.He couldn’t cry.But his shoulders still shook. His chest still ached.And even though the door was locked and William was gone…Max still felt trapped.Cold.Alone.But not really alone, because William was always there, even when he wasn’t.And that was the worst part.That was the part that scared him the most.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max woke up feeling wrong.His body was heavy, his skin clammy with sweat, his stomach twisting in a way that made his throat burn. The cold concrete beneath him felt unbearable, like it was leeching whatever warmth he had left.He groaned, barely able to lift his head, his arms weak as he tried to push himself up. His vision swam, black spots eating at the corners of his sight.Nausea.His stomach lurched violently, and before he could even process it, he was retching.Nothing came up at first. Just dry heaves, his body convulsing as if it was trying to purge something that wasn’t there. His throat burned, his ribs ached, and when he did finally throw up, it was barely anything. Just bile, acid, and something sour that he didn’t remember eating.Max coughed, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand. His whole body felt disgusting—sticky with sweat, weak, useless.His head pounded. His skin was too hot, then too cold, then too hot again.What the hell was happening to him?His breaths were uneven, shaky, his hands gripping his own arms for some kind of stability.Had he eaten something bad?Was it from the stress?Or…His stomach twisted violently.Or did William do something to him?The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him, but there was nothing left to throw up. He dry-heaved again, his body shaking with the effort.He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the feeling away. Trying to ignore the way his skin crawled, how his muscles felt like they were burning from the inside out.He hated this.He hated him.And worst of all—He hated how scared he was.Max remembered.Or—he thought he did.His body ached, his stomach churned, and his skin felt wrong, but the worst part was his head. His thoughts. The way everything blurred together, smeared and tangled like paint streaked across a canvas with no direction.William had…He had…Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memory into focus.But it was like holding water in his hands—every time he thought he had a grip on it, it slipped through his fingers.He remembered William’s voice. The way it wrapped around him, syrupy sweet and suffocating.He remembered pain.Pressure.But when?Had it been yesterday? A week ago? A month?When did it happen?His breath hitched.Did it already happen? Or was it going to happen again?Max’s arms wrapped around himself, his fingers digging into his skin. The nausea worsened, his head spinning as he tried to sort through the fragments in his mind.He had lost time.Somewhere along the way, the days had blurred together. There were no windows, no clocks, no way to tell if it was morning or night.Had he slept for an hour? A day? Two days?It didn’t matter.Time didn’t exist down here.Nothing existed down here except him—him and William.And the memories that refused to stay buried.The door creaked open.Max barely flinched.He was too exhausted, too sick, too lost in the fog of his own mind to react the way he should have.William stepped in, carrying a bucket of water and a towel, a bar of soap balanced in his other hand.Max's stomach twisted violently."Look at you, sweetheart," William cooed, setting the bucket down with a heavy thud. "You're a mess."Max didn't answer. His mouth was dry, his limbs trembling, his body too weak to move away as William crouched beside him.The sound of water sloshing filled the air. The towel was dipped in, wrung out.Max forced himself to breathe, but it was hard.He knew what was coming."You’re burning up," William murmured, pressing the damp towel to Max’s forehead. "We can’t have you getting sick on me."His touch was too much. Too intimate. Too wrong.Max turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, but it didn’t matter.Nothing mattered.Not time. Not space. Not the way his body felt both too heavy and too light all at once.William hummed softly, wiping down Max’s face, his neck, his arms. Slow, careful, methodical.Max swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.His skin crawled.He wanted to disappear.But the door was locked.And he was still here.Still his.William worked in silence, his movements slow and deliberate as he ran the damp towel over Max’s skin.Max didn’t fight it.Not because he was okay with it—God, no—but because his body felt like lead, too weak to push him away.The water was lukewarm, the soap carried a strong, artificial scent that made his stomach churn, and William’s touch was clinical—yet somehow still too much.Max kept his eyes fixed on a crack in the concrete wall, refusing to acknowledge what was happening.The towel ran over his arms, down his chest, his back, and—Max shuddered, his breathing hitching.William’s hand lingered.Not long. Not enough to be obvious.But just enough to make Max’s stomach turn inside out."See? That’s better, isn’t it?" William’s voice was soft, almost mocking.Max didn’t answer.He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.He wouldn’t react.Because if he reacted, if he let himself feel—Then it became real.And Max wasn’t ready for that.Not yet.Maybe not ever.The nausea had been building for a while, creeping up his throat like a slow, relentless tide.Max tried to fight it, to push it down, to swallow past the lump burning in his throat.But his body had other plans.Without warning, he lurched forward, dry heaving before bile spilled from his mouth, splattering onto the cold concrete floor.His whole body trembled with the force of it, his stomach twisting violently as more followed.William sighed. "Oh, sweetheart…"Max barely heard him. His head spun, his body swayed, and he braced his hands against the floor, trying to ground himself.He felt disgusting. His mouth burned, his throat ached, and the taste—God, the taste—made him want to throw up all over again.William clicked his tongue, dipping the towel back into the bucket. "Guess I really needed to clean you up, huh?"Max’s stomach flipped.He wanted to speak—to tell him to shut the hell up, to leave him alone—but all that came out was another weak retch.William chuckled, patting his back."Don’t worry, Maxey. I’ll take care of you."Max squeezed his eyes shut.He didn’t want to be taken care of.He wanted to be anywhere but here.Silence rang out between them. The only sounds were Max’s shaky breaths and the quiet drip of water from the towel.Then—“Do you wanna kill me?”His own voice sounded foreign, detached.William stilled.For a moment, there was nothing. No movement. No response. Just the weight of the question hanging between them.Then—A chuckle. Low. Amused.“Oh, sweetheart,” William murmured, tilting his head as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. “Now, why would I do that?”Max didn’t answer.Because he didn’t know.Would it be better if William did want to kill him? If there was some kind of end to this?If he was dead, at least he wouldn’t have to—William leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper.“I don’t want to kill you, Maxey. I want to keep you.”Max’s stomach twisted.That was so much worse.Max's body felt like it was breaking apart.His skin burned with fever, each breath coming in shallow, painful gasps. He was shaking—no, trembling—like he couldn’t control it. His stomach churned, a roiling mess of discomfort, as if it was trying to tear itself apart from the inside out. His muscles felt like they were being stretched to the breaking point, every nerve screaming for relief that never came.He couldn’t even focus. His thoughts were fragmented, scattered like glass shards on the floor, each one jagged and sharp, too hard to hold onto. They slipped away before he could get a grip on them, and all he was left with was the thick fog in his mind, swallowing everything whole.He wanted to move. To stand. To scream. But his body wouldn’t listen. His limbs felt like lead, unresponsive, as if they were no longer his.“Still fighting, huh?” William’s voice broke through the haze, soft and sweet, but carrying a weight that pressed down on Max’s chest.Max’s head jerked toward him, but everything felt wrong. His vision was swimming, his eyes blurry from the sweat that stung his face. He didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to hear him.But William was already crouching beside him, his presence too close, too suffocating. His hand brushed over Max’s arm, the touch too soft, too deliberate, as if it were meant to calm him. But all it did was make Max’s skin crawl.“You’re burning up,” William murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was comforting a child. “But that’s alright. We’ll get you back to normal.”Normal.Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave him. There was nothing normal about this. Nothing.His stomach lurched again, the sickness too much to ignore, and before he could stop it, he was retching, his body heaving with dry sobs, nothing but bile spilling from his mouth. His throat burned with the force of it, each convulsion shaking him to his core.William’s fingers pressed into his back, soothing in a way that made Max want to scream. "Poor thing," he cooed, rubbing in slow, circular motions. "I don’t like seeing you like this."Max couldn’t respond. He couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe, let alone speak.William continued, his tone almost sympathetic, as if he truly believed he was helping. "You don’t have to be scared, Maxey. I’m not going anywhere. You can trust me."Max’s eyes squeezed shut tighter, his fists clenching in frustration. Trust him. How could he trust him? How could he trust someone who was causing all of this?But it was all so much. The heat, the nausea, the unrelenting pressure building in his chest.“I want you to feel better,” William said, his voice almost too sweet, too insistent. “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll take care of you.”Max’s body tensed again, his stomach turning violently, but there was nothing left to throw up. His throat ached with the effort of it, and his chest felt like it was caving in, a weight pressing on him from all sides....William’s hand slid down to his wrist, gently holding it as if to reassure him. The touch was soft, like a lover's, but the tension in it made Max’s stomach churn.“Look at you,” William murmured, his voice dripping with a false sweetness. “Still so strong. You think you can fight me, huh?”Max opened his eyes, but he didn’t meet William’s gaze. He couldn’t. If he did, it would make this too real.He wanted to scream, to beg for it to stop. But all that came out was a weak cough, his chest burning in protest.William chuckled softly, his fingers tightening around Max’s wrist, sending a fresh wave of discomfort through his limbs. “You’re mine, Maxey. You’re always going to be mine.”Max squeezed his eyes shut again, his throat closing up in fear and anger. The words hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog, and they crushed him, smothered him.What was the point in fighting anymore?He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything that wasn’t this—sick, lost, helpless. Everything else seemed like a distant dream, something he might have had before he was trapped here. A different life, a different Max. But that person was gone now.William's fingers moved, brushing over his cheek like he was caressing something delicate, something fragile. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”Max felt the bile rise again, the taste sharp and bitter. He wanted to spit it out, wanted to yell at him, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.“I just want you to understand, Maxey,” William murmured, his breath hot against Max’s ear. “There’s no one who will ever care for you like I do. No one who will keep you the way I will.”Max's skin crawled. The words cut through him like a blade, slicing through whatever little resolve he had left. The idea of being “kept” by William, of being trapped in this cycle, was more terrifying than anything else. He didn’t want to be kept. He didn’t want to belong to anyone.But the room was too small. The walls too close. The door locked. And Max was still here.Still his....Max’s breath hitched, his body shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn’t move. His body refused to listen, his mind slipping further into the fog. He couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape him.William’s voice, low and calm, whispered in his ear again. “I’ll never let you go, Maxey.”Max's stomach twisted painfully, but it wasn't just from the sickness. It was the fear. The realization that, in the end, William would always have the power to control him. To keep him here. Forever.And Max didn't know how much longer he could fight that.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max woke up with a groggy groan, his eyes squinting against the dim light that filtered in through the cracks in the concrete walls. He didn’t know what time it was. The sun might’ve been rising, or it could’ve already set. In this place, time was a luxury he couldn’t afford to know. But he had woken up, and that was something—at least he could rely on that. Maybe. He shifted uneasily on the cold floor, the familiar ache of his body making itself known as he pushed himself upright. The sickness was still there, gnawing at his insides, but today felt different. Maybe today would be better. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it before the door creaked open. William stepped in, and Max’s stomach twisted. The man was holding something—a plate of food—and that immediately set off a warning bell in Max’s mind. The food always came with strings attached, always meant to be something more than just nourishment. But today, William also had something else in his hands—a small, shiny object that Max didn’t recognize at first. “What’s that?” Max croaked, his voice scratchy from the dry air and lack of water. William didn’t answer immediately. He was too busy setting the plate of food down on the floor beside Max—some kind of mushy slop that Max wasn’t sure he could stomach. Then, with an almost playful smile, William held up the object. “Do you know what this is, Maxey?” Max squinted at it, still not sure. It looked like some kind of plastic cup, with a little lid and a strip of paper hanging off the side. William shook it gently, like it was a prize he was showing off. “No,” Max replied, feeling a mixture of confusion and dread churn in his gut. “Lucky you.” William chuckled, and there was something twisted in his voice. “It’s a test. For you.” Max blinked, his mind racing. “What kind of test?” William didn’t answer at first. He just handed him the cup, the paper strip dangling from the side like a strange, menacing flag. Max’s stomach twisted. There was a strange, sharp sensation building in his chest. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the cup for long, but William was already watching him, that calm, unsettling gaze fixed on him. “I need you to fill it,” William said, like it was the most natural request in the world. Max’s eyes widened. “What?” “You know,” William said, grinning now, “pee in it. I’ll be right here. Don’t worry. I won’t watch.” Max’s mouth went dry. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. But William’s smile never wavered. It was sweet, almost affectionate, but in a way that made Max’s skin crawl. He wanted to protest, to throw the cup in his face, to scream at him, but the words got caught in his throat. His body still felt like it was barely functioning, his mind too fuzzy from everything else. William stepped back, giving him space, but still watching intently. “I’m sure you can figure it out, sweetheart. Just a little test. It won’t hurt.” He paused, then added with that mocking sweetness, “And maybe you’ll feel a little better afterward.” Max wanted to protest, wanted to tell him where to shove it, but all he could do was stare at the cup in his hands, feeling the weight of it pressing against him. It felt so wrong. So invasive. But he was trapped here. He had no choice. He did it. It wasn’t much, but he filled the cup, and as soon as he was done, he handed it back to William with disgust pooling in his gut. He kept his eyes focused on the floor, not looking up at the man who was now holding the cup like it was some sort of prize. William took the cup, dipping the strip of paper into the liquid, his movements slow and careful, like it was something delicate. Max tried to block out the sight, the way William handled it with far too much interest. “Good job,” William said after a moment, giving him a slow clap. “I knew you could do it.” Max didn't answer. He just sat there, feeling the overwhelming sense of wrongness creep through every inch of his skin. William took the cup with him, leaving the room without a word. Max didn’t see him for the rest of the day. Or night. Time didn’t matter. It never did here. Max was left alone, staring at the empty walls, the silence pressing in on him, his thoughts heavy with unease and confusion. What the hell was that test? What did it mean? But it didn’t matter. The door was locked. And Max was still here. Max had barely processed the silence—barely let himself sink into the strange, uneasy lull of being alone—before the door creaked open again. William stepped in, and this time, he had another stick in his hand. But it wasn’t the same as before. It was different. Weirder. Max barely had the energy to lift his head, his whole body still weak, his brain feeling like it was swimming through molasses. His limbs were heavy, his mouth was dry, and his stomach was twisted in on itself. He felt like he could pass out at any second, but William was standing there, holding another one of those damn tests. And Max didn’t know if he had it in him to care. William crouched beside him, setting something down—a few plastic bottles. Water. Three of them. Max’s eyes flickered to them, his throat burning. Maybe William had finally caught on to how goddamn dehydrated he was. “You’re looking a little rough, sweetheart,” William mused, shaking the test in his hand. “But don’t worry, I’ve got another little experiment for us.” Max sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I really don’t have the energy for this.” William chuckled, all syrupy amusement. “Oh, I think you’ll find this one fascinating.” Max didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He was too damn tired for this. William took that as permission to keep going. “This,” he said, waving the stick slightly, “is a pregnancy test.” Max blinked. Slowly. Then frowned. He lifted his head just enough to glare at William. “What?” William smirked. “A pregnancy test. You know, the kind that tells you if you’re expecting a little bundle of joy?” Max just stared at him. Blank. Confused. Exhausted. He didn’t know what the hell William was talking about, and he frankly didn’t want to know. His brain was too foggy to even begin questioning why William had that or what kind of messed-up logic had led them to this point. Instead, Max just exhaled through his nose, tired and done. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.” William only smiled, tilting his head. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred. “You’d be surprised.” Max clenched his jaw, staring at the floor. He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t want to know. His focus shifted to the water instead—the three bottles sitting right there, within reach. His stomach twisted painfully at the thought of how long it had been since he’d last had a proper drink. William seemed to notice. “Go on,” he said, gesturing to them. “Drink up.” Max hesitated. He didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust anything about this. But his body was screaming for water, and he knew if he didn’t take it now, he might not get another chance. Slowly, cautiously, he reached for a bottle. Unscrewed the cap. Took a careful sip. It was lukewarm. Stale. But it was water. And right now, that was all that mattered. . . . Max’s hands trembled around the water bottle, his breath catching in his throat. Wait. No. No, no, no— His brain lagged behind the realization, but once it hit, it crashed into him like a freight train. He wasn’t stupid. He could connect the dots. He could read between the lines. The sickness.The exhaustion.The test. The pregnancy test. Max’s stomach twisted violently, bile rising up his throat, and this time it wasn’t just from dehydration. Oh God. Oh God, oh God— His chest heaved as panic set in, his fingers going numb as the bottle slipped from his grasp, water spilling onto the cold concrete floor. He wanted to scream. He needed to scream. But the sound got stuck in his throat, swallowed by the sheer force of his own terror. He fell back, his body shaking, his breathing sharp and uneven. “No,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. “No. No—” William just watched. Calm. Smug. Amused. Like he had expected this reaction. Like he had wanted it. “Oh, sweetheart,” William murmured, setting the test down beside him. “I was wondering when you’d put it together.” Max’s stomach lurched. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. He felt like he was suffocating, like the walls were closing in around him, like his own body wasn’t even his anymore. Because if that test was what he thought it was— If it came back positive— Then that meant— Max squeezed his eyes shut, a broken, shuddering breath escaping his lips. He couldn’t. He couldn’t face this. Not now. Not ever. But it was too late. Because the test was already sitting there. Waiting. "I'm— I? Me?" Max choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense. His whole body felt wrong—too hot, too cold, too tight in his own skin. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, his breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in like his own mind was trying to protect him from the sheer impossibility of this moment. William just smiled. Calm. Smug. Like he was enjoying this. Like he had been waiting for this exact reaction. "Yes, you, sweetheart," William murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. "Isn't it fascinating?" Max gagged. His stomach twisted violently, and he barely had time to turn away before he was heaving again, bile spilling onto the concrete. Nothing. Nothing in his life had ever felt as horrifying as this moment. Not waking up down here.Not the tests.Not even him. Because this was his own body. His own body betraying him, turning against him, doing something that it shouldn't even be able to do. His throat burned, his whole body shaking. His hands clawed at his own arms, his chest heaving. "No," he rasped. "No. No, no, no—" "Now, now," William tutted, picking up the test again, his fingers running along the plastic like it was some precious thing. "I know this is a lot to take in, but really, Maxey… isn't this amazing?" Max snapped. "Shut up!" His voice cracked, raw and desperate. His whole body lurched forward, driven by some blind, animalistic instinct to get that thing away from him. William only laughed. "Oh, sweetheart," he said, voice sickeningly sweet. "We're just getting started." "I— I'm only—" Max stammered, his voice trembling, barely able to get the words out. But William cut him off with that same, syrupy tone. "You're bearing now. So it doesn't matter." He smiled, tilting his head. "And because of that, I'll be upgrading this little place." Max felt like he was going to be sick again. William gestured around the room casually, as if they were talking about redecorating a damn bedroom. As if this wasn't insane. As if Max wasn't losing his mind. "Just for you and—" William's finger pointed at Max’s stomach, his smirk stretching wider. "—them." Max's breath hitched. No. No, no, no, no— He scrambled back, shaking his head, his entire body rejecting the words, the meaning, the sheer reality of this. "There is no them," Max hissed, his voice raw, his hands gripping his own arms like he could hold himself together by force alone. "There won't be a them." William only chuckled, unfazed. "Oh, sweetheart," he cooed. "You're in denial. That's okay. It happens." Max's chest was too tight. His lungs couldn't get enough air. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip the walls down, tear his own skin off, do anything to wake up from this nightmare. But William just stood there, calm, as if this was already set in stone. "You’ll see," he murmured, turning toward the door. "In time, you’ll see." And with that, he left. Leaving Max alone. Alone with his shaking hands. Alone with the water bottles spilled on the floor. Alone with the test. Alone with the unbearable, impossible, suffocating horror of what William had just said. Alone with them. . . Max didn’t move from his spot in the corner, his body curled in on itself as he watched William work. He didn’t know what to think—what to feel. An actual mattress. A bed frame. A mini fridge. If he weren’t in hell, maybe he would’ve been impressed. Maybe he would’ve thought this was an upgrade. But he knew why William was doing this. He knew. And that made it all so much worse. His stomach twisted violently, nausea rising again, but there was nothing left to throw up. Just that horrible, empty sickness weighing him down. William, meanwhile, hummed to himself, moving with an easy confidence as he plugged something into the wall. The basement lit up. Max flinched, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, and for the first time since waking up in this place, he saw just how much space there actually was. His gaze followed William as he moved toward a door in the far corner—one that Max hadn’t even realized was there before now. A key turned in the lock. The door swung open. And— A bathroom? Max’s eyes widened slightly as he peeked over, catching sight of a small sink, a toilet, and—thank God—a shower. Well. That was… useful. Not that it changed anything. Not that it made this any less of a prison. William turned back to him, smiling like he’d just done something wonderful. "See, sweetheart? I take care of what’s mine." Max clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into his arms. He didn’t answer. Because he knew, deep in his gut, that this wasn’t kindness. This wasn’t mercy. This was a cage, dressed up to look a little prettier. And no matter how nice the walls looked— He was still trapped inside. . . . William cooed a soft "Good night, sweetheart" as he stood at the door, his eyes lingering on Max for a moment longer than necessary. The words felt like poison, dripping from his tongue with that sickly sweet tone Max had come to dread. Max didn’t respond, didn’t even look up as William turned to leave. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound of the lock sliding into place making Max’s chest tighten. And then… Silence. Absolute, oppressive silence. Max’s eyes were wide open, staring into the dimly lit room. His body felt like it was floating, too disconnected from reality. He couldn’t move, couldn’t make his thoughts stop spinning. Them. The word echoed in his mind, the reality of it settling heavily in his chest. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Max curled into himself again, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, trying to hold himself together. But it didn’t feel like enough. Not with them inside him. The room felt colder now, the quiet pressing in around him like a vice. He could hear his own heartbeat, feel the weight of the world bearing down on him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Max allowed himself to cry. He cried for what was happening. For the feeling of helplessness, of being trapped in a place that was supposed to be his prison. For them—for the life growing inside of him that he hadn’t asked for. The tears were hot and bitter, and they didn’t stop. But in the end, they couldn’t change anything. He was still here. Still trapped. Still his.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Two weeks. At least, that’s what Max had been able to count. Time was a slippery thing in this place, stretched thin between fitful sleep and the gnawing sickness that refused to leave his body. His world had shrunk down to the four walls around him, the stale air, and the weight in his stomach that he tried so hard to ignore. He didn’t think he had ever felt so exhausted. His body ached in ways he wasn’t used to—his limbs heavy, his head constantly clouded, his stomach twisting unpredictably. The nausea came and went like a cruel joke, some days leaving him barely able to move, others letting him think—just for a moment—that maybe it was getting better. It never got better. The mattress helped, sure. So did the shower. The food wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him from collapsing. But none of it made up for the reality of what was happening to him. And none of it made up for him. William still came and went as he pleased, always with that same infuriating smile, that same syrupy voice that dripped with false affection. He hadn’t brought up it again—not directly. Not since the test. But Max could feel it in the way William looked at him. In the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, the way his voice softened in a way that made Max’s skin crawl. Like he was waiting. Like he was enjoying watching him realize. Max swallowed hard, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want to realize anything. He just wanted to wake up. He lay on the mattress he’d pushed into the corner, curled in on himself as if that could somehow make it all disappear. His fingers ghosted over his stomach, hesitant, unwilling—afraid. The smallest, slightest bump had begun to form. Barely there. Almost nothing. But it was there. Max sucked in a shaky breath, pressing his palm flat against it, as if he could somehow smooth it away, erase it, pretend it was just his mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t. His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat, but he forced it down. He was too tired to be sick again. Too tired to do anything but stare at the ceiling, the weight of reality pressing down on him like a vice. Two weeks. That’s all it had been. And already, it was changing him. Change. Max didn’t like changing—especially not like this. Not for something he didn’t ask for. Not for something he didn’t want. His body wasn’t his anymore. It was shifting, reshaping, warping into something he couldn’t control, couldn’t stop—and that terrified him more than anything. His fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like he could somehow hold himself together. Like if he just held on tight enough, he could keep himself from falling apart. But he was already breaking. And he didn’t know if there was anything left to hold on to. . . Max spiraled. His brain ached, thoughts colliding, overlapping, crashing into each other like waves in a storm. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt real. His body wasn’t his, his future wasn’t his—he was trapped, stuck in this thing that was happening to him, inside of him, against his will. His breathing hitched, uneven and sharp. His hands pressed against his temples, fingers digging in as if he could physically force his mind to stop spinning. But it wouldn’t. It just kept going, faster, harder, like a vice tightening around his skull. He was losing himself. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. William entered the basement to find the poor boy curled up on the mattress, pressed into the corner like he was trying to disappear into the walls. Max looked wrecked. Dark circles clung to his eyes, his skin was pale and clammy, and his breathing was too shallow, too uneven. He didn’t even flinch at the sound of the door opening—didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge William’s presence at all. William frowned. Now, that wouldn’t do. "Sweetheart," he cooed, stepping further into the room, his voice laced with false sympathy. "You look awful." Max still didn’t react. His arms were wrapped around himself, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like he was trying to hold himself together. William sighed dramatically, crouching down beside him. "Oh, Maxey," he murmured, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair from Max’s forehead. "You’re not even trying to take care of yourself, are you?" Finally, Max twitched—just the smallest movement, but enough to let William know he was still in there, still aware. Still suffering. William smiled. Good. . "Fuck you," Max growled, his voice hoarse and weak. He barely had the strength to lift his head, but he forced the words out anyway. It was the only defiance he had left. William only chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't touch you, be happy," he mused, his voice laced with mock sympathy. Then, with that sickeningly sweet lilt, he added, "They're saving you a lot of pain, sweetheart~" Max's stomach lurched. His throat tightened, bile rising so fast that he barely had time to turn away before he was dry-heaving onto the floor. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his insides twisting in sheer revulsion. William just watched, amused. "Aw," he cooed, tilting his head. "See? You're already so sensitive. How precious." Max wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body trembling. He hated this. Hated him. Hated them. Because no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise… They were inside him. And William wouldn’t let him forget it. William left the food he had on the floor, his footsteps echoing as he turned to leave. The faint smell of whatever slop he’d brought lingered in the air, but Max couldn’t bring himself to look at it. The thought of eating anything from William felt like a betrayal to his body, to himself. Max curled into the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, trying to shrink into nothing. His stomach was still in knots, a constant reminder of everything that had happened—and everything that was still happening. But the food remained, sitting there, a cruel reminder that he was trapped. He stared at it, willing himself to ignore the gnawing emptiness in his gut. But his body was weak, too weak to fight the hunger that clawed at him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. Not after everything. The silence in the basement was suffocating. Max closed his eyes, hoping for some sort of escape, even if it was only temporary. But there was no escape. Not now. Not ever. He was stuck. And the food, the tiny remnants of a life he once had, was just another piece of the cage. . . . Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed. Max lost track of time after a while—his only anchor was the slow, unsettling change in his body. William hadn’t come down in what felt like forever, and there was no sign of any plan, any way out, any way home. The silence was thick and suffocating, but Max had grown used to it. In fact, it became almost unbearable when it wasn’t there, like the stillness itself was a reminder of how completely trapped he was. He spent most of his time curled up on the mattress in the corner, staring at the peeling concrete walls. His movements were slow and stiff, every action taking more energy than it should. There were days he didn’t even want to move. But he had to. He couldn’t let himself completely break. Not yet. Max had started to notice the changes in his body more distinctly. His belly, once flat and unremarkable, had begun to swell ever so slightly. At first, it was almost imperceptible. But as the days wore on, the subtle curve became more pronounced. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to be impossible to ignore. It twisted his insides every time he caught a glimpse of it, like a cruel reminder of the situation he was stuck in. His body was changing in ways he didn’t want, in ways he never could have imagined, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t fight it. Max clenched his fists, pressing them against his sides in a futile attempt to will the changes away. But no matter how hard he tried, the inevitable continued. He couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape any of it. The growing emptiness in his stomach, the ache in his body, the ever-present fear of what was to come—it all melded together into an unshakable weight. And in the quiet, empty basement, Max realized something that made him sick to his core. No matter how hard he fought, the life inside him wasn’t something he could run from. And William—William was still out there, waiting for whatever he had planned next. Max’s thoughts circled around the same questions, the same fears: Why had he been chosen for this? What was this twisted experiment? And more than anything else—when would this end? Would it ever end? "I hate my life." Max muttered to himself, the words feeling hollow as they left his lips. They hung in the air for a moment, a sad echo in the silence of the basement. His voice had become so quiet over the past few weeks, barely a whisper. Maybe it was the isolation, maybe it was the exhaustion, but even the simplest of statements felt foreign coming from him. His hands traced the edges of his growing belly as he lay back against the mattress, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above. He hated this. He hated every part of it. The slow, inevitable changes. The sick feeling that never quite left his stomach. The way his body had become a stranger to him, turning against him in ways he couldn’t control. He was supposed to be somewhere else—anywhere else. He should have been free. He should have been able to live his life, do whatever the hell he wanted. But instead, he was here, stuck in a basement, waiting for whatever the hell William had planned next. Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill. But it felt like everything was too much. Too much pain. Too much fear. Too much time spent thinking about what was happening to him, what had already happened. “I just want to go home.” The words came out softer this time, more of a plea than a statement. But home was so far out of reach now. It felt like a dream from another life, one he’d never be able to wake up from. The thought of escaping—of running—felt just as impossible as it had the first day. He had no strength left to fight anymore. The fight had been drained from him, little by little, until it was just an echo of what he used to be. The world outside felt so far away now, like it was no longer his to touch. All he had left were the walls. And William. Always William. Max’s gaze drifted down to his belly, the thought settling in like a dark, heavy weight. He hated himself for it, hated how easily the thought crept into his mind, but he couldn’t help it. It was a relief, a terrible, twisted relief, to think that maybe it would all just end. The pain. The fear. The endless cycle of waiting and hoping for something that would never come. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what William was capable of. He’d seen it in the way the man watched him, the way he smiled when Max was at his lowest, when he thought he couldn’t go any further. Max squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the growing ache in his chest, the suffocating weight of the reality he was trapped in. It felt like everything around him was closing in, like the walls were pressing tighter with each passing day. He didn’t know if he could take it much longer. The idea of just being… gone… of not having to deal with the constant dread and the growing life inside of him, it was tempting. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was cowardly. But, God, it felt like it might be the only way out. He wouldn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone, or letting anyone down. He wouldn’t have to watch his own body betray him, to be trapped in this awful, inevitable reality. And most of all, he wouldn’t have to keep pretending that things were ever going to get better, when they were so far past that point already. Two less problems for the world to deal with. That’s all he could think. No more pain. No more fear. Just silence. But even as the thought lingered in his mind, he could feel the weight of it crushing him. Because he knew deep down that there was still a part of him that didn’t want to give up, no matter how bleak everything seemed. No matter how dark his thoughts got. But it didn’t stop him from wishing—just for a moment—that maybe William would just end it for him. Max's eyes narrowed as his hand instinctively rested on his belly, the small but undeniable curve of it pressing against his palm. His gaze shifted downward, a surge of anger rising from the pit of his stomach. He hated this. He hated everything about it. He hated William. Hated the man with a burning passion that didn’t just stop at the sickening way he smiled or the cruel games he played. It went deeper. William had stolen his life, his freedom, and every ounce of peace he’d ever known. He’d twisted everything until Max didn’t even recognize himself anymore. But now, now he had something else to hate, something else to fuel the fire inside him. He hated what was growing inside of him. Hated the fact that it was a part of William, a twisted little seed that would eventually become something he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t just a prisoner of the basement. He was a prisoner of William’s spawn too. Max felt the anger seethe under his skin, the resentment pooling like venom in his veins. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t escape it. He didn’t want to care, but the thought of it—the thought of what was happening to his body, what William had forced upon him—made his blood boil. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about everything he never asked for, everything that had been thrust upon him without his consent. He didn’t want this child. Didn’t want to care about it. But he couldn’t escape the fact that it was part of William, and part of him. It felt like betrayal. His body had turned against him, becoming a vessel for something he could never accept. And so, he chose to hate it. To hate it with every fiber of his being. He hated it because it was a reminder of what had been taken from him. A reminder that he’d been broken down until he was nothing more than a tool, a body that could be used and abused at will. He hated it because it represented the final, unforgivable link to William. And with that hate, Max hoped, with everything he had left, that maybe one day he’d be able to tear it all away. That somehow, some way, he’d be free of the legacy William had forced on him. Until then, he could do nothing but seethe. And wait. And hate. Max’s fists clenched at his sides as his gaze hardened on the small bump that was becoming more and more impossible to ignore. His breath hitched in his throat, the feeling of disgust rising up like a wave that threatened to drown him. The temptation to hurt himself—to lash out at the very thing that was betraying him—was overwhelming. His stomach twisted, his mind spiraling deeper into the haze of rage and helplessness. He wanted to punch it. To punch the damn thing until it was gone, until everything about this nightmare was erased. But the moment the thought crossed his mind, something stopped him. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t love. It was something else, something darker. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to destroy it. But he couldn't. Max’s breath came in shallow bursts as his eyes burned with the urge to fight. To break something. To feel control over something in a life that had stolen every ounce of it away. His hands shook as he slowly pulled them away from his stomach. He could barely make himself look at it, and when he did, the pain in his chest grew, an ache that wouldn’t go away. The anger felt like it was eating him alive, like he was drowning in the suffocating rage. He wanted it all to end. He wanted to end it—everything. The pregnancy. The captivity. The feeling of being trapped in his own skin, like he was no longer even himself. He wanted to punch the walls, rip through everything until there was nothing left but the silence that could finally set him free. But for now, all he could do was seethe in silence, the weight of it pressing down on him. He hated himself for it. He hated the fact that he was letting himself feel all this, letting the anger consume him. He hated the weakness of being trapped inside his own mind, helpless against something so small, so innocent, and yet so deeply tied to everything he loathed. But even in his fury, he knew one thing. He couldn't hit the child. No matter how much he hated it, no matter how much it represented everything wrong in his life, he couldn’t hurt it. Instead, he clenched his jaw and curled in on himself, trying to push the feelings back, trying to bury them deep down where he didn’t have to feel them. Max's voice was thick with the bitterness that had been building up inside him for weeks. He lay back against the cold wall, eyes burning with frustration as he stared at the ceiling. It felt like the weight of everything was too much to bear—the pregnancy, the captivity, the endless days stretching on without an end in sight. "Why me..." His voice cracked, the anger and helplessness twisting together in a ball of resentment. "Why now?" The words hung in the air, unanswered. He could almost hear the mocking silence that followed, as if the universe itself had chosen him as the target for all its cruelty. His fists balled up again, his teeth gritted as his stomach churned. The thing inside him, growing slowly and steadily, felt like a ticking time bomb. Each passing day was one step closer to something he couldn’t control, something he didn’t want. It was like a cruel joke, a sickening game that someone—something—was playing at his expense. Max's mind raced, searching for any explanation, any reason why this was happening to him. But there was nothing. No answers. Just a silent void. "Why does this... why does this have to be me?" His voice was hoarse now, drained of the fire from before. He sounded broken. Defeated. He’d never wanted this life. Never asked for any of it. He didn’t ask for the monsters lurking in the shadows, the betrayal, the hopelessness. And he certainly didn’t ask for this—this—growing inside him, like some twisted reminder that there was no escaping. No chance of running away from it. Max closed his eyes, shutting out the world for a moment, but the pain never left. It was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, a constant reminder that he was stuck. And for all his anger, all his rage, there was nothing he could do to change it. "Why now..." he repeated, quieter this time, as if searching for the answer he already knew deep down—because life doesn’t give a shit about what you want. . . . Max’s hand rested against his stomach, a strange sense of coldness creeping up his spine as he spoke to the life inside him. The words left his mouth before he could stop them, though a part of him wished he could take them back. "You're gonna be a dick. Just like the prev..." His voice faltered, the bitterness seeping into every syllable. The idea of the baby inside him—his baby, or whatever it was—felt like an unwelcome, unwanted presence. He could already imagine what kind of nightmare it would grow into. The image of William’s twisted grin, the unspoken promise of more pain, more torment, was too fresh in his mind. The cycle of abuse seemed to be repeating itself, just with a different face. Max curled in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest as the weight of it all pressed down on him. His hand, still resting against his stomach, almost seemed like an apology, a betrayal of everything he had felt for so long. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked for any of it. But now it was here, and there was no escaping the consequences. "If you're anything like your... father..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the anger twisting his stomach into knots. It was too much. Too much to bear. The helplessness, the rage, the helplessness again. The feeling that no matter what he said, no matter what he wished for, he was locked in this cage with no way out. His hand dropped from his stomach, fingers clenched into fists against his legs. "I don't want this... I don't want any of it." But it was too late. Whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter. It never had. . . Another day passed in a blur of silence and the cold weight of inevitability. The dim light that filtered through the cracks in the concrete walls seemed to grow weaker, as if even the day itself was losing hope. Max barely moved, too exhausted to do anything but breathe in and out, feeling the growing tension in his body as his stomach stretched painfully, another reminder of the cage he was trapped in. Then the door creaked open. William stepped into the room first, as always, carrying the usual plate of food. But this time, there was someone else with him—a man. A tall, well-dressed figure who looked out of place in the dim, oppressive basement. Max’s eyes narrowed as he observed the newcomer, noting the crispness of his white coat and the sterile air he carried with him. A doctor. It took a moment for that realization to hit, but when it did, Max's pulse quickened. The doctor’s gaze swept across the room, settling on Max with an unsettling calm. He didn’t look concerned, not in the least. No sympathy, no pity—just professional detachment. The kind of person who could walk into any situation and treat it like it was just another day at the office. Max immediately tensed, the pit of his stomach churning as William stepped aside to let the doctor approach. “Max,” William’s voice was sweet, too sweet. “I have someone here who can help you with... everything.” Max’s eyes flicked from William to the doctor, but he didn't speak. Instead, he stared at them both, waiting for whatever fresh hell they were about to unleash. The doctor was already pulling a chair toward Max, his movements precise and controlled, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. His expression was unreadable as he set down his medical bag and began to sort through it, pulling out various instruments and items, his hands steady and practiced. Max didn’t want to know what was in that bag. He didn’t want to know what they planned to do to him. “What... what’s going on?” Max rasped, his voice barely a whisper, rough from days of neglect. William smiled, an eerie, cruel smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, Maxey, just a little check-up. Nothing too serious. Don’t worry.” His voice dropped to a mockingly comforting tone. “This man’s going to make sure you’re doing okay. We wouldn’t want any... complications.” Max’s heart thudded in his chest, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He could already feel the dread creeping up his spine, could already see the doctor’s gloved hands reaching for his stomach. He knew what was coming. He knew. “Let’s just get this over with,” the doctor said flatly, not waiting for Max to say anything else. Max braced himself, but it was like bracing for impact when you already knew the crash was coming. The doctor's hands were cold when they pressed against his belly, and Max flinched instinctively, though there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Relax, Max," William said, his tone still dripping with that sickening sweetness. "This is just part of the process. You’ll feel better once it’s done. I promise." Max wanted to scream, but the words got stuck in his throat. He wanted to pull away, to fight, to run, but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped. And as the doctor began his examination, Max couldn’t help but wonder what kind of nightmare was coming next. “Mhm, three months—” the doctor murmured, his eyes focused on the screen of a small portable ultrasound machine that he’d set up. Max’s heart skipped a beat, and before the doctor could finish, Max cut him off, his voice sharp with disbelief. “What?” Max’s breath hitched as the words left his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about? Three months?” The doctor didn’t even flinch, his expression remaining impassive as he glanced at Max for a brief moment. “You’re three months along, Max. There’s a fetus developing in your abdomen.” Max’s head spun. His mind couldn’t quite process the words, couldn’t fathom the cold, clinical reality of what he was hearing. The shock hit him like a physical blow. Three months? No. That couldn’t be right. “Three months?!” Max repeated, his voice rising in a mixture of anger, confusion, and utter disbelief. He didn’t care if it sounded irrational—he was beyond caring. “How the hell did that happen?” The doctor didn’t offer any explanation, not one that Max wanted to hear. Instead, he merely adjusted the machine and made a few notes on his clipboard, his tone detached. “It’s a slow progression, but your body is adapting. The pregnancy is healthy, though it might take a toll on your body if left unchecked.” Max’s stomach churned, his pulse racing. “No, this... this wasn’t supposed to happen. I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t form the words to describe the horror he felt in the pit of his stomach. William, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. “See, Maxey? This is what I’ve been telling you. You need to take better care of yourself. You’re growing... and so is my investment.” Max shot him a glare full of venom. “You’re sick,” he spat, the disgust clear in his voice. “This isn’t... this isn’t happening. This can’t be real.” But the doctor didn’t argue. He simply folded his hands in front of him, as if this was just another routine check-up. "The results are conclusive. It’s real, and there’s nothing we can do to reverse it." Max felt the blood drain from his face. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his stomach, as though trying to push the growing life inside him away, as if it would somehow make this nightmare end. "How long until... until it's... born?" Max’s voice cracked, and he couldn’t stop the tears from pricking at his eyes. William’s grin stretched wider, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, that’s a long way off, Max. Don’t worry. You’ve got time.” He stepped closer, laying a hand on Max’s shoulder as though offering reassurance. “Plenty of time to get used to it.” Max recoiled from the touch, his anger and frustration boiling over. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing. He was trapped in this nightmare, and every word, every passing second, just made it worse. He slammed his fist against the mattress, a guttural growl escaping his throat. “I hate this. I hate all of it.” William’s smile didn’t falter, and the doctor, though he didn’t look pleased, didn’t seem surprised either. “Well, Max,” the doctor said, standing up, “I’ll leave you to... process the news. But if you need anything, just let William know. We’ll be back to check in again soon.” Max didn’t look at them as they left, didn’t acknowledge their presence anymore. He just sat there, his mind reeling, his body aching in ways he couldn’t explain. Three months. Three months of carrying something he didn’t want. Something that was going to change everything. And for the first time in weeks, Max felt utterly and completely powerless. . "I've been alone for three fucking months..." Max muttered to himself, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He lay back against the cold, unforgiving mattress, staring at the ceiling as the weight of his isolation settled heavily on his chest. Three months. No one to talk to, no one to help. Just silence. Just him, trapped in this place with no way out, no escape from the reality that was suffocating him. His thoughts spiraled, a whirlwind of anger, frustration, and fear. William’s words echoed in his mind—you’ve got time. Time. He had no idea how much longer he could stand it, no idea how long it would take for something in him to finally break. The pain wasn’t just physical anymore. It was emotional, mental, every inch of him screaming for release. He was alone. So alone. And in this place, in this hell, he had nothing left but that fact. "How did I let this happen? How the fuck did I get here?" He wasn’t asking anyone in particular, just the empty, unfeeling air around him. His hands clenched into fists by his sides, his nails digging into his palms as though that would somehow take away the bitter ache in his chest. But nothing would. Nothing ever did. Max felt the familiar sting of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly pushed them back. He wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t give William the satisfaction of seeing him break, not even now. But the truth gnawed at him. He had been alone. And the longer he stayed here, the more he felt like he was losing himself. Losing who he had been. Losing everything that made him who he was. The realization hit him with full force: there was nothing left to cling to. Nothing. Just him, this place, and the strange, growing thing inside of him. "Fuck." The word slipped from his lips like a curse, the one thing he could still hold onto in this madness. "Just... fuck."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Three and a half months. Camp Campbell was never the same after Max disappeared. The usual chaos, the constant bickering, even the forced enthusiasm—none of it felt real anymore. It was like a heavy cloud had settled over the camp, smothering whatever joy used to exist here. Gwen sat on the steps of the counselor's cabin, staring blankly at the dirt beneath her feet. A cigarette dangled between her fingers, long forgotten and burned out. She hadn’t even realized she lit one. Her eyes were sunken, dark circles forming under them from too many sleepless nights. She wanted to scream, to break something, to do anything that wasn’t just sitting here, waiting for news that never came. David wasn’t much better. He stood a few feet away, pacing back and forth like he was trying to wear a hole into the ground. His usual bright-eyed optimism had dulled into something hollow, something wrong. He still smiled at the kids, still tried to keep the camp running, but Gwen saw through it. He was just as lost as she was. “We should check again,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Maybe they missed something—maybe there’s new footage, or maybe someone saw something we didn’t—” “David.” Gwen’s voice was flat, exhausted. “We’ve checked. The cops have checked. There’s nothing.” It had been the middle of camp season when Max vanished. At first, Gwen thought he had just run into town again, sneaking off like he always did when he got fed up with everything. But no one had seen him. Not at the gas station, not at the arcade, not even near the old bridge where he sometimes sat alone to get away from the noise. Then the cops got involved. The security footage from a nearby convenience store showed it all too clearly—Max, struggling in some asshole’s grip, getting dragged into a van. He fought like hell. Kicked, punched, even bit the guy at one point, but it wasn’t enough. The van door slammed shut. And then— Nothing. The footage cut off, like someone had wiped the rest of it clean. The cops didn’t know how, didn’t know who could’ve done it, but whatever came next was gone. No license plate, no street signs, no witnesses. Just static. Just nothing. Gwen exhaled sharply, rubbing her hands over her face. “I don’t get it. Who the hell takes a kid from a goddamn summer camp and then just—vanishes?” David stopped pacing, clenching his fists at his sides. “We’re not giving up,” he said, voice firmer than it had been in weeks. Gwen scoffed. “Yeah? And what do you wanna do, David? Knock on every goddamn door in the state until someone magically gives us an answer?” “If that’s what it takes.” His voice didn’t waver. She looked up at him then, really looked at him. He was exhausted, barely holding it together, but beneath all that, there was something else—something fierce. He meant it. Gwen swallowed hard, then looked away. She wanted to believe they could still find him. She really did. But after all this time… Her hands curled into fists. Three and a half months. And they still had nothing. But she wasn’t ready to stop searching. Not yet. . . . Max was ready to end it all. The pain. The lies. The sheer exhaustion of existing in a world that never gave a shit about him. That was all he'd ever known. And when he finally found a sliver of peace in the idea of ending it—when he had made his choice, when he was ready—it was ripped away. Literally. One moment, he was staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts, the next, he was here. Trapped. A prisoner in some sick bastard’s basement, his body betraying him more and more each day. He hated it. He hated him. He hated whatever cruel force had decided to keep him breathing when all he wanted was for it to stop. And now? Now, he was stuck. Alone. Changing. Becoming something he never wanted to be. Max sat curled up on the old mattress, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. His stomach—his damn stomach—wasn't flat anymore. It was slight, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but he could feel it. He could feel everything. His body wasn’t his anymore. And he hated it. He dragged his fingers through his hair, nails digging into his scalp. “Fucking why?” His voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “Why me?” No answer. There never was. He sat in the dimly lit basement, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His stomach wasn’t flat anymore—he could feel the faintest swell beneath his palm. It made his skin crawl. It wasn’t fair. He was supposed to be free from all of this—free from pain, from suffering, from existing in a world that never wanted him in the first place. And yet, just when he was ready to leave it all behind, fate had decided to play one last cruel joke. Max clenched his teeth, swallowing down the burning lump in his throat. His fingers twitched as he stared at the faint bump, his breathing uneven. He could still end it. He could still take control. But some sick part of him hesitated. Why? Why should he care? About this—about himself? He didn’t ask for this, didn’t want it. And yet, something gnawed at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake. He pressed his forehead against his knees, voice barely above a whisper. “I hate this.” His voice hitched, and he hated himself for it. His throat burned as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the ache in his chest. David. Gwen. Neil. Nikki. Even those annoying campers. He never thought he’d miss them, but now? He’d give anything to hear their stupid voices, to feel the heat of the campfire, to be back in that rundown excuse of a camp with the only people who ever gave a damn. Max curled in on himself, gripping his arms tight. "I just wanna see them…" His voice wavered, barely a breath. "Them idiots… God." The silence swallowed his words whole, leaving him alone with nothing but the faint sound of his own breathing and the distant creak of the house above. Max sat curled up on the mattress in the corner, arms wrapped around himself. The dim basement light flickered above him, casting shadows on the cold concrete walls. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he last saw William, but it hadn’t been long enough. It was never long enough. When the door creaked open, Max barely lifted his head. He already knew who it was. The heavy footsteps descending the stairs confirmed it. William. Max tensed as the man approached, setting a tray of food on the floor beside him before settling down a few feet away. “It’s May 24th,” William said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather. “And it’s currently 10:54 PM.” Max didn’t react at first, but then William reached out and placed a hand on his stomach. His stomach. Max recoiled instantly, pressing his back against the wall. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom. William just chuckled, withdrawing his hand but not moving away. “You’ll have to get used to it, sweetheart.” Max’s skin crawled. He hated the way William talked to him, the way he acted like this was normal, like this was something he was supposed to accept. “Fuck you,” Max snapped, his nails digging into his own arms. His body trembled with rage, with fear, with the weight of everything pressing down on him. William tilted his head, smirking. “Why the hostility? I thought you’d like to know how long you’ve been here.” Max’s stomach twisted. Almost four months. Four months since he was taken. Since everything was stolen from him. Since he was forced into this nightmare. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to swallow the lump rising in his throat. He couldn’t let William see him break. “I don’t care,” Max spat, though his voice wavered slightly. He glared up at the man who had ruined his life, every ounce of hatred burning in his stare. “I don’t fucking care.” William simply smiled. The kind of smile that made Max’s blood run cold. “Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.” And with that, William stood, leaving Max in the silence of the basement once more. . . The next morning, the small town was alive with the quiet bustle of a search party forming. David, Gwen, and a handful of local volunteers had already begun their efforts, trying to cover every inch of the area surrounding the camp, combing through the woods, and checking any possible place Max could have wandered off to. But there was a lingering heaviness in the air. A dread that only grew as the day went on, when a phone call was made to Max’s parents, hoping to get more direction on where their son might have gone. The response was nothing like they expected. Max’s father, when asked if he had any idea where his son might be, had been almost too calm, too indifferent. There were no tears, no panic, not even a hint of concern in his voice. His answers were curt, almost dismissive, as if Max’s disappearance was just another inconvenience to him. Max’s mother, on the other hand, seemed caught off guard at first, but her reaction was equally strange. After a brief silence, she had muttered something about “him being old enough to take care of himself,” and that “maybe he just didn’t want to be found.” Her voice carried a faint, distant quality, as if the idea of Max being missing didn’t really reach her. The silence that followed after the call was deafening. Gwen had stood frozen for a long moment, her phone still pressed to her ear, unsure whether to speak or just end the call entirely. David, standing beside her, exchanged a glance with her, a mix of confusion and disbelief. "They didn’t... seem like they care," David muttered under his breath, the words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Gwen shook her head, a knot forming in her stomach. “I don’t get it. This isn’t normal. They’re his parents. They should be out here, looking for him, not brushing us off.” The town had always been close-knit, and something about the parents' reaction didn’t sit right. It was one thing for someone to not be able to handle the stress of a missing child, but this felt wrong. There was no panic. No urgency. “Something’s not right,” Gwen said, her voice trembling slightly as she turned to face the small group that had gathered. “We’re not stopping until we find him. I don’t care what anyone says. We need to find Max, and we need to do it now.” As the search party went on, the knot in Gwen’s stomach tightened. The mystery of Max’s disappearance had taken an even darker turn. Something about the way his parents had reacted... it felt like they were hiding something. And she wasn’t going to stop until she figured out what.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A day or two had passed, though Max hadn’t been awake enough to notice. He had been too occupied with sleeping, exhaustion weighing on him like a blanket he couldn’t shake off. If he wasn’t asleep, he was in the bathroom, his body betraying him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge. He hardly cared to count the days anymore. What did it matter? He was still here. Still trapped. The only proof that time was moving at all was the dull ache in his back and the way his stomach felt heavier than before. It wasn’t obvious—not yet—but he could feel it. The way his body was changing against his will. Max curled up tighter on the mattress, his back pressed into the corner like he could somehow disappear into it. His hand itched to touch his stomach, to confirm what he already knew, but he refused to. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. Didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to give this thing even an ounce of recognition. The basement was quiet. Too quiet. He hadn’t seen William in over a day now—not since the last visit when he’d been forced to sit through the man’s presence. His stomach twisted at the memory of William’s hand brushing over his belly, the mocking words that had followed. "It’s May 24th, and it’s currently 10:54 PM." Max had jerked away at the touch, disgusted, but William hadn’t seemed bothered. He had only smiled, his amusement dripping with something sickly sweet. "They’re saving you a lot of pain, sweetheart~" The memory made Max’s throat tighten. . . . He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, grounding himself in the pain. He wouldn’t let William win. No matter how long he was trapped down here, no matter what happened to his body—he refused to let this break him. But god, he was tired. Tired of the silence. Tired of waiting for something—anything—to change. Tired of hoping for a rescue that might never come. . . . William stood at the top of the basement stairs, peering down with that ever-present smirk of his. In one hand, he held a tray of food, and in the other, a small bottle of pills. “They don’t care about you, Max. Not like I do,” he mused, his voice as smooth as ever. “I don’t think anyone will care about you more than I do.” Max didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t want to see William’s face, didn’t want to see whatever twisted affection lurked in his eyes. He kept his head turned toward the wall, trying to ignore the weight in his stomach—both literal and metaphorical. William took a step inside, setting the tray down on the floor like he always did. But today, there was something different. He held up the small bottle, shaking it slightly so the pills inside rattled. “Prenatal vitamins,” he said casually. “Gotta make sure you’re healthy, right?” Max scoffed, still refusing to look at him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the pills, the food, or anything William had to say. What was the point? . . . William knelt beside the tray, placing the bottle on top. “You can ignore me all you want, sweetheart, but your body’s gonna need this,” he said in that sing-song tone that made Max’s skin crawl. Max finally turned his head, glaring at him through tired, sunken eyes. “Fuck you.” William only chuckled, standing back up. “Eat, take your vitamins, and maybe I’ll be nice enough to bring you something sweet next time,” he teased before stepping back toward the stairs. Max watched him leave, the sound of the door locking above sealing in the silence once more. His eyes flickered down to the bottle of pills. He didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. But as his stomach let out an empty growl, his fingers twitched. His survival instincts were still there, even if his will to care was dwindling. . . . With a frustrated sigh, Max reached for the food, shoving a bite into his mouth just to keep himself from thinking too much. After forcing down the last few bites of the bland meal, Max reached for the bottle of vitamins. He turned it over in his hands, reading the label, though the words barely registered in his tired mind. He twisted off the cap and took a cautious sniff. The scent was familiar—chalky, slightly sweet, like the kind of vitamins Gwen would have forced Neil and Nikki to take if they were ever in her care. But this was William. There was always a catch. Max rolled one of the pills between his fingers, then tentatively ran his tongue over it. Bitter. Gross. Normal. Still, the thought lingered in his mind—what if it was laced with something? What if this was William’s way of knocking him out, keeping him weak, dependent? Or worse? A part of him almost wanted that. To just let go, to stop feeling, to stop existing in this nightmare. But another part—some stubborn, survival-driven part of him—refused to go down like that. . . . With a deep breath, he popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. If it did anything more than what it was supposed to, he’d find out soon enough. . . . He sat there, watching the sky change. Some leaves drifted around lazily. . . . His parents wouldn’t want him when he came home. . . . If he came home. Maybe home was never really home. Maybe he didn’t want to go back to the same cold walls, the same indifferent stares, the same feeling of being a burden. Maybe he wanted to disappear, to let the world swallow him up, to be nothing more than a ghost wandering through empty streets until he finally faded away. The idea didn’t scare him. If anything, it felt like relief. No expectations. No pain. No more fighting just to exist in a world that never wanted him in the first place. Max exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Maybe that was the real freedom he wanted. But freedom wasn’t real, was it? Not for him. Not when he was trapped down here, belly growing with something he never wanted, with someone watching his every move. Not when the world outside had never once given a damn about where he was, what happened to him, or whether he even made it out of this alive. . . . His parents wouldn’t want him back. Not like this. Not that they ever wanted him in the first place. And the others… would they even look at him the same? Would they still crack stupid jokes and roll their eyes at his attitude, or would they just see him as broken? Maybe it was better if he never went back. Maybe it was better if he just— Max shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. No. No, he wasn’t gonna let himself think like that. Not now. Even if the world didn’t give a shit about him—he wasn’t gonna give William the satisfaction of seeing him give up. . . . Max curled in on himself, pressing his forehead against his knees as his stomach twisted—not just from nausea but from the overwhelming weight of it all. He was 11. He was pregnant. And he was trapped. His whole body ached from exhaustion, from hunger, from the constant strain of carrying something he wanted nothing to do with. And yet, despite everything—despite the pain and the sickness and the pure hatred boiling inside him—his body refused to give out. He was still here. Still breathing. Still feeling. . . . A door creaked open. Footsteps followed. Max didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t acknowledge the presence invading his space. A voice, too familiar, too close. "Still in bed, sweetheart? You barely touched your food last night." Max’s stomach churned. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold onto the floating feeling, but the world was already pulling him back. . . . Back to the cold, hard floor. Back to the sick weight in his gut. Back to reality. . . . Max was tired. Max was sick. Max was ready. One Last try, Max exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his stomach, fingers twitching as if debating whether to push, claw, rip it all away. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. Then—footsteps. The door creaked open, and William’s silhouette loomed at the top of the stairs. Max didn’t move, didn’t breathe. His eyes locked onto the man who had stolen everything from him. His throat burned with the words he wanted to scream, but instead, a single thought rooted itself in his mind, cold and sharp like a blade. “If no one's coming to save me… I’ll do it myself.” A day or two had passed, though Max hadn’t been awake enough to notice. He had been too occupied with sleeping, exhaustion weighing on him like a blanket he couldn’t shake off. If he wasn’t asleep, he was in the bathroom, his body betraying him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge. He hardly cared to count the days anymore. What did it matter? He was still here. Still trapped. The only proof that time was moving at all was the dull ache in his back and the way his stomach felt heavier than before. It wasn’t obvious—not yet—but he could feel it. The way his body was changing against his will. Max curled up tighter on the mattress, his back pressed into the corner like he could somehow disappear into it. His hand itched to touch his stomach, to confirm what he already knew, but he refused to. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. Didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to give this thing even an ounce of recognition. The basement was quiet. Too quiet. He hadn’t seen William in over a day now—not since the last visit when he’d been forced to sit through the man’s presence. His stomach twisted at the memory of William’s hand brushing over his belly, the mocking words that had followed. "It’s May 24th, and it’s currently 10:54 PM." Max had jerked away at the touch, disgusted, but William hadn’t seemed bothered. He had only smiled, his amusement dripping with something sickly sweet. "They’re saving you a lot of pain, sweetheart~" The memory made Max’s throat tighten. . . . He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, grounding himself in the pain. He wouldn’t let William win. No matter how long he was trapped down here, no matter what happened to his body—he refused to let this break him. But god, he was tired. Tired of the silence. Tired of waiting for something—anything—to change. Tired of hoping for a rescue that might never come. . . . William stood at the top of the basement stairs, peering down with that ever-present smirk of his. In one hand, he held a tray of food, and in the other, a small bottle of pills. “They don’t care about you, Max. Not like I do,” he mused, his voice as smooth as ever. “I don’t think anyone will care about you more than I do.” Max didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t want to see William’s face, didn’t want to see whatever twisted affection lurked in his eyes. He kept his head turned toward the wall, trying to ignore the weight in his stomach—both literal and metaphorical. William took a step inside, setting the tray down on the floor like he always did. But today, there was something different. He held up the small bottle, shaking it slightly so the pills inside rattled. “Prenatal vitamins,” he said casually. “Gotta make sure you’re healthy, right?” Max scoffed, still refusing to look at him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the pills, the food, or anything William had to say. What was the point? . . . William knelt beside the tray, placing the bottle on top. “You can ignore me all you want, sweetheart, but your body’s gonna need this,” he said in that sing-song tone that made Max’s skin crawl. Max finally turned his head, glaring at him through tired, sunken eyes. “Fuck you.” William only chuckled, standing back up. “Eat, take your vitamins, and maybe I’ll be nice enough to bring you something sweet next time,” he teased before stepping back toward the stairs. Max watched him leave, the sound of the door locking above sealing in the silence once more. His eyes flickered down to the bottle of pills. He didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. But as his stomach let out an empty growl, his fingers twitched. His survival instincts were still there, even if his will to care was dwindling. . . . With a frustrated sigh, Max reached for the food, shoving a bite into his mouth just to keep himself from thinking too much. After forcing down the last few bites of the bland meal, Max reached for the bottle of vitamins. He turned it over in his hands, reading the label, though the words barely registered in his tired mind. He twisted off the cap and took a cautious sniff. The scent was familiar—chalky, slightly sweet, like the kind of vitamins Gwen would have forced Neil and Nikki to take if they were ever in her care. But this was William. There was always a catch. Max rolled one of the pills between his fingers, then tentatively ran his tongue over it. Bitter. Gross. Normal. Still, the thought lingered in his mind—what if it was laced with something? What if this was William’s way of knocking him out, keeping him weak, dependent? Or worse? A part of him almost wanted that. To just let go, to stop feeling, to stop existing in this nightmare. But another part—some stubborn, survival-driven part of him—refused to go down like that. . . . With a deep breath, he popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. If it did anything more than what it was supposed to, he’d find out soon enough. . . . He sat there, watching the sky change. Some leaves drifted around lazily. . . . His parents wouldn’t want him when he came home. . . . If he came home. Maybe home was never really home. Maybe he didn’t want to go back to the same cold walls, the same indifferent stares, the same feeling of being a burden. Maybe he wanted to disappear, to let the world swallow him up, to be nothing more than a ghost wandering through empty streets until he finally faded away. The idea didn’t scare him. If anything, it felt like relief. No expectations. No pain. No more fighting just to exist in a world that never wanted him in the first place. Max exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Maybe that was the real freedom he wanted. But freedom wasn’t real, was it? Not for him. Not when he was trapped down here, belly growing with something he never wanted, with someone watching his every move. Not when the world outside had never once given a damn about where he was, what happened to him, or whether he even made it out of this alive. . . . His parents wouldn’t want him back. Not like this. Not that they ever wanted him in the first place. And the others… would they even look at him the same? Would they still crack stupid jokes and roll their eyes at his attitude, or would they just see him as broken? Maybe it was better if he never went back. Maybe it was better if he just— Max shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. No. No, he wasn’t gonna let himself think like that. Not now. Even if the world didn’t give a shit about him—he wasn’t gonna give William the satisfaction of seeing him give up. . . . Max curled in on himself, pressing his forehead against his knees as his stomach twisted—not just from nausea but from the overwhelming weight of it all. He was 11. He was pregnant. And he was trapped. His whole body ached from exhaustion, from hunger, from the constant strain of carrying something he wanted nothing to do with. And yet, despite everything—despite the pain and the sickness and the pure hatred boiling inside him—his body refused to give out. He was still here. Still breathing. Still feeling. . . . A door creaked open. Footsteps followed. Max didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t acknowledge the presence invading his space. A voice, too familiar, too close. "Still in bed, sweetheart? You barely touched your food last night." Max’s stomach churned. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold onto the floating feeling, but the world was already pulling him back. . . . Back to the cold, hard floor. Back to the sick weight in his gut. Back to reality. . . . Max was tired. Max was sick. Max was ready. One Last try, Max exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his stomach, fingers twitching as if debating whether to push, claw, rip it all away. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. Then—footsteps. The door creaked open, and William’s silhouette loomed at the top of the stairs. Max didn’t move, didn’t breathe. His eyes locked onto the man who had stolen everything from him. His throat burned with the words he wanted to scream, but instead, a single thought rooted itself in his mind, cold and sharp like a blade. “If no one's coming to save me… I’ll do it myself.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Again, the endless sky drifted, and days passed. Max watched it all from the small window, the only connection he had to the outside world. It was depressing, to say the least—how could it not be? Alone. Trapped. (He chose not to acknowledge William’s presence.) He clung to the hope of being saved, of being anywhere but here. But hope was beginning to feel like a cruel joke. And just like that, the door creaked open again. Footsteps. Two sets. Two voices. Max knew them both. William. And that doctor guy again. Max didn’t turn away from the window. He kept his eyes locked on the drifting clouds, pretending he couldn’t hear them descending the stairs. The voices felt like background noise—static against the silence he had wrapped himself in. "Still ignoring me, sweetheart?" William drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. Max's hands curled into fists. "You should be grateful," William continued, stepping closer. "Brought a friend this time. Thought you’d want an update." The doctor let out a short hum, professional, detached. "It’s important to check on the progress. At this stage, the development is steady, and we need to ensure—" Max finally turned his head, eyes burning. "I don’t care." His voice was hoarse, raw from disuse. The doctor sighed, adjusting his glasses. "I know this isn’t ideal for you—" Max let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh really? You figured that out all on your own?" William tsked. "Now, now. No need for that attitude. We’re just making sure everything’s going smoothly." Max shot him a glare so full of venom it could kill. "Nothing about this is smooth, you freak." William just smiled, like he found the whole thing adorable. The doctor, however, wasn’t amused. "You need to be taking your vitamins consistently," he stated flatly. "And eating properly. Your body is under significant stress—if you continue like this, you’ll—" "I don’t care," Max spat the words out again, each syllable like poison on his tongue. He turned his gaze back to the window, clinging to the drifting clouds like they could carry him away. The doctor exhaled through his nose, as if deciding it wasn’t worth arguing. "Regardless, I need to examine you. We should check your weight, your blood pressure—" Max's stomach twisted. No. No, no, no. He shook his head, pushing himself further into the corner, away from them both. "You’re not touching me," he said, his voice low, dangerous. The doctor hesitated, looking toward William. William, of course, only smiled. "Don’t be difficult, sweetheart." Max’s breath came faster. His body screamed at him to do something—lash out, fight, run—but there was nowhere to go. His heart pounded against his ribs. His fingers dug into the thin fabric of his shirt, nails pressing against his stomach. "I said—" His voice cracked, but he forced it out anyway. "You’re not touching me." William sighed, rubbing his temple like this was all so inconvenient for him. Then, with that same infuriating smirk, he said, "Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be, Maxie. You’ll cooperate—" Max saw red. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his body moved. His fist swung, aiming straight for William’s face. It didn’t connect. William caught his wrist mid-swing, grip tightening like a vice. Max froze, his breath hitching, his heartbeat hammering so hard it hurt. For a long moment, there was silence. Then— William chuckled. Low, slow, condescending. "Fiesty, aren’t you?" Max’s entire body trembled. He yanked his arm, but William didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, voice a murmur against Max’s ear. "Careful, sweetheart. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret." Max’s stomach churned. He felt sick. Trapped. Cornered. William finally released him, and Max stumbled back, chest heaving. The doctor adjusted his glasses again, glancing between the two. "I can’t do my job like this." William sighed dramatically. "Fine. We’ll try again later." He winked at Max. "Maybe you’ll be more agreeable next time." Max stayed silent, frozen in place, as the two turned and made their way back up the stairs. The door locked. The silence returned. Max slowly lowered himself onto the mattress, curling in on himself. His stomach twisted—not just with nausea, but with something deeper, something hollow and aching. He needed to get out. No matter what. William and the doctor disappeared up the stairs, the door locking behind them with a final click. Max stayed where he was, frozen in place, his breath coming in uneven bursts. His wrist still throbbed where William had grabbed him, his skin crawling from the lingering sensation. He clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. He wasn’t going to let himself spiral. Not now. Not after everything. His stomach churned—not just from nausea, but from the weight of it all. He pressed a shaky hand against it, fingers twitching like they wanted to dig in, to tear away what wasn’t his. But he forced himself to pull away. He couldn’t let himself fall into that hole. Not now. Not yet. He exhaled sharply, shifting his focus back to the room. The basement was the same as ever—cold, empty, suffocating. The tray of food sat near the stairs, untouched. The bottle of vitamins was still lying where he’d left it. His eyes flicked toward the window. The outside world was still there, still moving without him. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, their slow, aimless movements mocking his own stillness. He had to get out. I’ll do it myself. The thought echoed in his mind, louder, clearer than before. Max pushed himself up, legs unsteady but firm. His body protested, exhaustion settling into his bones, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t let himself care. His gaze swept the basement, scanning for anything—anything—he could use. There had to be a weak spot. A crack in the foundation. A loose board. Something. Because he wasn’t going to sit here and wait for William’s next visit. No. Next time, Max would be ready. Even if the people outside of the dirty-ass basement didn’t give a shit about him. Even if they never had. Even if they never would. Max exhaled, his voice firm despite the tremble in his limbs. "I'm going home." The words settled into the silence, heavier than anything else in the room. They weren’t just words. They were a promise. A fact. His fingers curled into fists. His legs ached, his stomach twisted, but none of that mattered. Not anymore. He refused to rot down here, refused to let William decide how this ended. Home might not be perfect. Might not even want him back. But it was his choice to make. And he was getting out. No matter what it took.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max paced the basement, his mind racing. His body screamed for rest, for sleep, for something—anything—to make the ache in his bones fade. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he finally had a plan. He kept his movements slow, quiet, eyes flickering to the locked door every few seconds. William could come back at any time, and Max refused to get caught off guard again. His fingers brushed against the cold, cracked walls. He needed something sharp, something solid—anything he could use as a weapon. His gaze landed on the food tray, specifically the dull fork that came with it. Useless for a real fight, but maybe good enough to jam into a lock. Max grabbed it and crouched by the door. He worked quickly, sliding the prongs into the keyhole, twisting and jiggling it just like he’d seen on TV. His pulse pounded, sweat beading at his temple as he held his breath— Click. His heart stopped. The sound wasn’t from the lock. It was from above. Someone was at the door. Max scrambled away just as it swung open, his pulse hammering against his ribs. William stood at the top of the stairs, that ever-present smirk plastered across his face. But this time, his eyes flickered to the tray, the slightly out-of-place fork, the way Max had scrambled back. His smile widened. "Trying to be clever, sweetheart?" William drawled, descending the stairs at a leisurely pace. "That’s cute." Max’s throat tightened, but he didn’t look away. He refused to. William reached the bottom step, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Y'know, I almost admire it. You’ve got guts." His gaze darkened, amusement twisting into something sharper. "But we both know how this ends." Max’s fingers twitched. His legs ached to run, to fight, to do something. But William was faster. Stronger. Max’s mind raced. He had to think. Had to stall. "Yeah?" Max forced out, his voice sharp, bitter. "And how’s it end, exactly?" William crouched slightly, bringing himself closer. Too close. "With you right where you belong." Max clenched his jaw. His stomach twisted—not just from nausea, but from rage. He was so tired of this. Tired of him. His grip tightened around the fork. He still had time. He still had a chance. And if no one else was coming to save him— Then he’d save himself . . . Max ran. He ran like hell. His legs burned, his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not when freedom was right there. The second he had jabbed the fork into William’s arm—right as the bastard had reached for him—Max had bolted. Out of the basement, through the hall, past the kitchen where plates clattered from the force of his escape. The back door had barely been locked, and with a frantic shove, it burst open. And then he was outside. Cold air slammed into him, stealing his breath. The night was dark, the woods stretching out in all directions, thick with trees and shadows. He didn’t know where he was. Didn’t care. He just ran. Branches tore at his arms, his clothes, his face. His bare feet hit uneven ground, rocks digging into his skin, but he barely felt it. Behind him, he heard the door slam open. A voice, furious, cutting through the night— "MAX!" His chest tightened. He pushed himself harder, sprinting deeper into the woods. He couldn’t let William catch him. Couldn’t go back. Not after coming this far. The trees blurred past him. His vision swam. His body was screaming at him to stop, to slow down, but— No. He was not stopping. Not until he was home. . Home.. home. At this point, Max didn't even have a fucking home. Where the fuck was he going? He didn't even know. He was running. Running until he could see some sort of light. Running until he stopped hearing William's voice and instead started running behind him. He ran like hell. His jacket still torn up. His shorts basically torn apart and no shoes. He was just running. He looked like a crackhead running through the streets, or at least he felt like one. Max never had a home. He lived in a house, and then when he came to camp, that wasn't him. He was just staying there. He was a guest. So Max didn't have a home. Not yet, at least. Not a home. Never a home. Never a family. Barely friends. He didn't have anything. Nothing. But he ran. He ran like he did. He ran like fucking hell. Max didn’t know how long he had been running. His legs felt like they were on fire, his lungs burned, and his throat was raw from sucking in the cold night air. But he didn’t stop. His bare feet slapped against the pavement when he finally broke through the trees. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled onto the side of an empty road, his body swaying, exhaustion threatening to drop him right there. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet. His eyes darted around, searching—something. Anything. He needed a car, a house, a fucking street sign—anything that could tell him where he was. But all he saw was the endless stretch of asphalt, barely lit by the flickering glow of a distant streetlamp. Max staggered forward, his body screaming for rest. His stomach churned, his head spun, and his vision blurred at the edges, but he kept moving. Then— A pair of headlights cut through the dark. Max’s breath hitched. His body tensed, instincts screaming hide, run, go back into the trees. But he didn’t. His legs locked up, his exhaustion catching up with him all at once. The car slowed. Max’s pulse pounded in his ears. His chest rose and fell in short, panicked breaths as the vehicle crept closer, the tires crunching against the pavement. Then it stopped. The driver’s side door opened. Max took a shaky step back. His body was too spent to run, but his mind was still screaming, still thrashing against the idea of being caught. A figure stepped out, silhouetted by the headlights. And then— “Holy shit.” The voice wasn’t William’s. Max’s body sagged, his knees almost giving out beneath him. The figure took a cautious step closer. “Kid? Are you—Jesus, you look like hell. What the fuck happened to you?” Max’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, his breath unsteady. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind the crushing weight of exhaustion, fear, everything. He swayed on his feet. “Whoa, whoa—shit, okay, hold on—” The person stepped forward just as Max’s vision went black. . . .

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max woke up with a start, his eyes flying open to a sterile white ceiling. The sharp scent of antiseptic hit him immediately, and he blinked in confusion, trying to focus.There were voices—low and murmured—drifting around the room. The quiet beep of a heart monitor kept a steady rhythm beside him, as if to remind him that he was still alive.His head felt heavy. The fog of exhaustion lingered, but beneath it was a strange clarity that pulled his mind into focus. He could hear footsteps shuffling, the soft rustle of paper, the murmuring of doctors’ voices just out of sight.But what really drew his attention, what yanked him fully back to the present, was a figure standing at the foot of his bed.A man with reddish-brown hair.David.Max’s heart skipped a beat. His throat tightened. His eyes burned. The world felt like it tilted sideways as everything came crashing back. The woods, the run, the fear, the exhaustion. The way his body had failed him, the way he had wanted to just disappear, but then—David.He was here.David’s green eyes met his, and everything else faded into the background. The noise of the hospital, the sterile smell, the ache in Max’s body—it all seemed irrelevant.David was here.A faint, worried smile tugged at David’s lips, but there was something else in his expression, something softer, more compassionate. The kind of look that made Max’s chest ache in ways he didn’t know how to handle.David took a step closer. His voice, low and soothing, broke the silence. “Max?”Max blinked, the fog starting to clear from his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. His chest tightened as a million things bubbled up at once—the pain, the fear, the sense of being utterly lost. And then, the overwhelming feeling of relief.David was here.Max’s throat tightened, the words finally coming out in a raspy whisper. “How… how did you…?”David’s gaze softened further, his jaw tightening slightly. “You were running. We found you on the side of the road, Max. You were barely conscious. Do you remember?”Max nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he remembered everything—William, the basement, the panic, the endless feeling of being trapped. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to go anywhere but here.Here.Home.David was here. And maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something else. Something better. Something real.Max opened his eyes again, locking onto David’s. “I’m… I’m not going back there.”David nodded, his expression serious. “You’re not. You’re safe now.”Safe.For the first time in what felt like forever, Max allowed himself to believe it.Max stiffened for a moment, the warmth of Gwen's hand on his back grounding him. He slowly turned his head to see her standing at his side, her usual warmth and energy still present, despite the tiredness in her eyes. She waved at him, a small smile on her face, but Max could see the worry behind it."Hi," she said softly, as though testing the waters. "How are you feeling?"Max swallowed, his throat dry, his heart still racing from the overwhelming emotions that seemed to wash over him all at once. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. His head was swimming, his body still in that hazy space between pain and numbness. But seeing Gwen’s familiar face, the kindness in her eyes—it was like a lifeline in a sea of everything that had been wrong for so long."Not sure," Max finally rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "But... I'm here.""Yeah," Gwen agreed, her voice soft but unwavering. "You are. And that's all that matters right now."Max wanted to believe her. He wanted to just relax into the comfort of her words, to pretend like everything could be okay. But the weight of everything he'd been through, the horror of what he'd survived—it lingered. And it would take more than Gwen’s kind words to erase the scars of those memories.Still, just knowing she was here, that she cared, was a balm on his soul he didn't realize he needed.David, standing at the foot of the bed, spoke up then, his voice low and steady. "We’ll get you through this, Max. You don’t have to do this alone."Max looked between David and Gwen, a tightness in his chest building again, but this time, it wasn't from fear. It was from something else—a strange, unfamiliar emotion. He didn’t know how to name it. Hope? Maybe. Maybe for the first time, there was a glimpse of something better on the horizon."Yeah," Max repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know."...Max’s hand rested lightly on his stomach, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the hospital gown. It felt strange—this growing thing inside him, this reminder of everything he didn’t want. But there was no escaping it. Not anymore. His mind wandered to the days spent in that basement, the ache in his body, the feeling of something wrong, something out of his control. The last thing he needed was to think about it, but it was there, an undeniable presence.David and Gwen exchanged confused glances, both of them seemingly unsure of why Max had placed his hand there. They hadn’t been told. They didn’t know.Before either of them could ask, the door to the room opened, and a doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand. His smile was tight, as though he was used to delivering this sort of news in a way that didn’t invite questions.“Max,” the doctor began, his voice calm and professional. “I just wanted to give you an update on your condition. You’re four months along now. We’ve been monitoring you closely, and while you’re in a stable condition, there are still a few things we need to be careful about.”Max froze, his stomach lurching at the words. Four months. Four months of this thing inside him, growing. He didn’t need to hear it, didn’t want to hear it, but there it was. The thing he had tried so hard to deny. The thing he had tried to ignore.David’s face went pale, his eyes flicking between Max and the doctor. Gwen’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, but she remained silent, unsure of how to respond.“Wait, what…?” Gwen finally asked, her voice small, her gaze moving to Max. “Four months? Max, are you—are you pregnant?”Max closed his eyes, his chest tightening. He had hoped they wouldn’t find out this way. He had hoped to be able to explain it, to tell them in his own words, when he was ready. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now.The doctor nodded, giving Max a moment before continuing. “Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been monitoring your health, and it’s important that you take care of yourself during this time. I understand this is unexpected, but we’ll make sure you get the proper care.”Max’s heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a rush of emotions flood through him—anger, shame, disbelief. How could this be happening? How could this be his reality now?He couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t find the words to explain everything that had happened. He just couldn’t. His body felt like it was betraying him. He wanted to crawl out of his skin.Gwen reached out, her hand resting gently on his, her touch grounding him, even if only for a moment.“We’re here for you, Max,” she said softly, her voice a whisper of reassurance. “Whatever this is, we’ll get through it together.”David didn’t speak at first, his expression unreadable, but he placed a hand on Max’s shoulder, offering him the same silent support. Max didn’t look at them, but he felt their presence. He felt their concern. He knew they didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to handle this, but they were trying. And that, in itself, meant something.Max’s breath hitched as he turned his head to look out the window, watching the rain fall. There was no escaping this. No escaping what had happened to him, or what was still happening. ..An hour later, the door creaked open again, and a detective stepped inside, her expression professional but softened with the hint of empathy. She wore a dark blazer over her shirt, her badge catching the light as she moved toward the foot of Max's bed.Max barely acknowledged her, his body still tense, his mind swirling with the weight of everything. He didn't want to answer questions, didn't want to relive the nightmare that had brought him here. But he knew it was coming. The interrogation. The questions he had no answers to.David and Gwen glanced at each other before Gwen spoke up first, her voice hesitant but firm. “Are you here to… ask him questions?”The detective nodded, her eyes briefly flicking to Max. “Yes. I know this is difficult, but we need to gather as much information as we can. We’re investigating what happened to Max, and every detail will help.”Max felt a sudden, suffocating pressure build in his chest. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to go through all the pain again. But the detective’s voice was calm, understanding. She wasn’t here to hurt him; she was here to help, even if it didn’t feel that way.Gwen looked at Max, her face full of concern. “You don’t have to answer anything you’re not ready to, Max.”Max clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. The words “I’m not ready” weren’t going to cut it, though. This was real now. This was part of his life, whether he liked it or not. He had no choice but to answer.The detective pulled up a chair beside the bed, sitting down with a notepad in her lap. “Max, I know this is a lot to ask, but I need to know everything you can remember about what happened. We need to find who did this to you.”Max swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He hadn’t even begun to process everything, but the question was out there. He had to speak. Had to let it out. So, with a deep, shuddering breath, he finally spoke, his voice small but resolute.“I was... I was taken,” Max began, his throat tight, every word like a weight in his chest. “By someone. A man. I—” He stopped, his chest tightening painfully. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t know where I was. I was just... there. In his house. In the basement.”The detective nodded, not interrupting, giving Max the space to continue, even if the memories threatened to drown him.“He... he made me... he—” Max’s voice cracked, and he fought to keep it steady. “He did things to me. He... he...” Max choked on the words, not wanting to say it out loud, not wanting to face the truth.Gwen moved closer, sitting at the edge of his bed, her hand on his. “Max, you don’t have to say it if you’re not ready. You’re safe now.”Max squeezed her hand tightly, trying to find a grounding force in the chaos of his thoughts. The detective didn’t push, her silence allowing him to regain control.After a long pause, Max forced himself to speak again. “He—he took me... because of what’s happening to me. He... he kept me there for... I don’t know how long. I—”“Max,” the detective interrupted gently, “you don’t have to go into details right now. I just need to know if you remember anything that could help us find him. Any clues, anything about how you got there or where he might be.”Max felt his heart beat faster, the anxiety rising again. He wasn’t ready for this. But he had to help. He had to do something.“His name’s William,” Max finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... he’s the one who did all of this. He... he knew what was happening. He kept me locked up, drugged, making sure I couldn’t escape.”The detective wrote quickly, taking down every word. “William,” she repeated softly, her gaze intense but still calm. “Do you know where he might be now? Anything about his background?”Max shook his head. “I don’t know where he went. He just disappeared. Like... like he was playing a game with me. But... he knew who I was. He knew everything about me.” He paused, his eyes distant, as if lost in the memory. “He... he was the one who made it happen. The pregnancy.”The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Max's words hanging heavy in the air. The detective looked at Max with a mix of concern and determination, as if trying to piece together the fragments of a puzzle.“Max, we’ll find him,” she assured him, her voice steady but firm. “We’ll do everything we can to bring him to justice. But right now, you need to take care of yourself. This is hard. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”Max nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had given them the little he could. What else was there to say?The detective stood, giving him a moment of space. “Thank you, Max. This is important. You’ve helped more than you know.”As she turned to leave, Max could feel his exhaustion creeping back in, dragging him toward the edge of sleep. He wanted to shut down, to block everything out, but there was something in the back of his mind that wouldn’t let him. He had to keep going. He had to keep surviving.David and Gwen stayed by his side, offering him silent support. Gwen squeezed his hand once more, her voice soft. “We’re with you, Max. Always.”Max gave a small, tired smile, the smallest flicker of hope igniting within him. He didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t as alone as he felt before.And that was something to hold onto.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max stared at the ceiling, his hands resting lightly on his stomach. His mind raced, thoughts tangling together in frustration and exhaustion. He had been gone for almost five months. Five fucking months. And yet… no calls. No visits. Not even a damn letter. Nothing. Not that he expected much from them, but still. He had nearly died. He had been locked away, suffering, changing in ways he never imagined. And they couldn’t even pretend to care? He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. David and Gwen had stayed by his side the entire time, taking turns sitting with him, making sure he ate, making sure he wasn’t alone. They were here. They gave a damn. But his parents? Not even a goddamn phone call. Max exhaled sharply, anger bubbling in his chest. “Where are my parents?” His voice cut through the silence, his tone sharp with bitterness. David and Gwen exchanged a look, hesitation flashing between them. Max saw it. He knew that look. They were holding something back. Gwen sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Max…” she started, voice cautious. David, sitting beside Max’s bed, shifted uncomfortably. “We—uh, we don’t know,” he admitted. “The hospital tried contacting them. The police did too. But… they haven’t responded.” Max let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Of course they fucking didn’t.” Gwen scowled. “Max, I’m so—” “Don’t,” Max cut her off, his voice sharp. “Don’t apologize for them. They don’t deserve it.” David reached out hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on Max’s arm. “We’re here, Max. You don’t have to go through this alone.” Max looked at him, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning. “I know,” he muttered. “That’s the problem.” Because David and Gwen cared more about him in these last two days than his parents had in his entire fucking life. And Max didn’t know whether to be grateful or just plain angry. Max’s fingers curled against the blanket, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t answer. His chest felt tight, like something was squeezing the air out of him. Why did they care? Why did they look for him when even his own parents hadn’t? He swallowed hard, staring at the reflection in the window. He barely recognized himself—his face thinner, his hair longer, his eyes duller. He looked... hollow. His thoughts wouldn’t stop. Did they search every day? Did they think I was dead? Did they cry? His stomach twisted. He didn’t know if he wanted the answers. But at the same time... he did. He needed to know. Max clenched the blanket tighter, his nails digging into the fabric. His mind was spinning, caught between disbelief and something that felt dangerously close to hope. "They actually gave a shit." The thought sent a shudder through him. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t fit the way he saw the world, the way things had always been. People didn’t care about him. People left him. People tolerated him at best, ignored him at worst. That was just how life worked. So why had they looked? Why had they cared when his own parents hadn’t? His throat burned. He wanted to be angry. He should’ve been angry. Because caring only led to disappointment, didn’t it? Because if he let himself believe—if he let himself hope—it would hurt a hell of a lot more when they gave up on him, too. And yet... His eyes flickered to David and Gwen. David, who was sitting in the chair beside his bed, his hands clasped together like he was barely holding himself back from reaching out. Gwen, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching him with that rare, soft look in her eyes—the one that meant she actually saw him. They weren’t his parents. They weren’t obligated to care. But they did. And Max hated how much that made his chest ache. . . Then he felt it. . . Max exhaled, his breath shaky as he rested a hand over his stomach. The movement had stopped, but he still felt it—like a quiet reminder that, despite everything, he wasn’t entirely alone. He should’ve been more freaked out by it. By all of it. The fact that something was growing inside him. The fact that, in a few months, he’d have a kid. His kid. A whole other person who’d depend on him. That was terrifying. But right now, in the cold silence of the hospital room, it was just... weird. His fingers pressed lightly against his stomach. What are you, huh? he wondered. A boy? A girl? Do you even care? Would it even matter? Max scoffed at himself and leaned his head back against the pillow. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer them. He didn’t even know how to be a kid, let alone raise one. But that little thump, that tiny kick—it reminded him that this wasn’t just some distant, abstract thing anymore. This was real. And for the first time since escaping that basement, Max realized just how much he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. . Max shut his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. The quiet felt heavier now, pressing down on his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake off. His hands stayed over his stomach, as if grounding himself with the only real thing he had left. He wanted to ask someone—anyone—what the hell he was supposed to do now. But no one was here. Not Gwen. Not David. Not even some shitty nurse pretending to care. His throat tightened. The thought came before he could stop it. I should have died in that basement. His fingers twitched. Would’ve been easier, right? No messed-up kid. No responsibility. No waiting for parents who didn’t care. But then another thought hit him—one that made his stomach twist. If he had died, the baby would’ve too. His baby. The realization sent a strange, uncomfortable jolt through him. He wasn’t just keeping himself alive anymore. There was something else, someone else, depending on him. Max let out a sharp breath and clenched his jaw. Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But ready or not, here he was. And so was the kid. A strange warmth spread through his chest at the thought. He had spent so much of his life feeling isolated, like no one really needed him around. But now? Now, he had proof that someone did. Someone who had been with him through everything, through the worst of it, even when he thought he had nothing left. He let his hand rest over his stomach, fingers barely pressing against the fabric of the hospital gown. His heartbeat felt louder now, steady but uncertain. This baby—his baby—was real. Not just some abstract idea, not just a problem to be dealt with. They were real. They existed. And they weren’t leaving him. His vision blurred for a second, and he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the burning in his eyes. I won’t be alone anymore. Max swallowed hard, exhaling shakily. For the first time in a long time, the thought actually felt... comforting. Max wiped his face quickly, embarrassed even though no one was around to see him cry. His fingers trembled slightly as he rested them on his stomach again, as if that simple touch could somehow ground him. This is real. For the first time in forever, he felt a sense of security—something that belonged to him. Not some house he was forced to live in. Not some camp he was thrown into. Not some half-assed version of a family that never really wanted him. This baby? His baby? They were real. They were his. A small laugh bubbled up from his throat, surprised by how much joy he actually felt. It wasn’t fake, it wasn’t forced. It was real. “I guess I gotta start thinking of names, huh?” he mumbled to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. A name. Something that would belong to them. Something that wouldn’t leave. . . . David and Gwen stepped in quietly, setting the flowers and snacks on the small table beside Max’s bed. They glanced at him carefully, unsure if they were interrupting his thoughts. But the moment they saw his smile, they froze. For a split second, the whole room felt different. There was a warmth in the air that hadn’t been there before. Max’s smile, though small, was genuine. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t a mask. “You’re smiling,” Gwen said softly, her voice a little breathless with surprise. Max’s eyes flicked from the flowers to their faces, then back down at his stomach. He couldn’t stop the smile from widening, even though his heart still felt a little heavy. But in this moment, the joy was real. “I am,” he whispered, as if he was still getting used to the fact. “I didn’t think I could, but here I am.” David chuckled lightly, setting down the cards. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting some happiness. You deserve it.” Gwen sat beside him, gently resting her hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for you, Max. Always.” Max nodded, the weight of their words sinking deep inside him. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore, though that was a huge part of it. It was about not being alone, about not having to carry everything on his own. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t the only one holding it together. He looked up at them, his throat tight. “I... I think I’m gonna be okay. I think I can be okay.” And for once, he actually believed it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the thin hospital blanket draped over him. His mind was spiraling, twisting thoughts into knots he couldn't untangle. He hated this—hated feeling this weak, this unsure. Yesterday, he smiled. Yesterday, he felt… okay. And now? Now, the weight of everything was crashing down on him. His stomach felt heavy, not just from the baby but from the sheer anxiety clawing at his insides. His hands were still shaking, and the longer he sat there, the more he convinced himself that something terrible was going to happen. That it was only a matter of time before everything was ripped away from him again. He pressed a hand against his belly, trying to ground himself, but all it did was remind him of how little control he had. The door creaked open, and Max flinched before he could stop himself. “Max?” David’s voice was soft, hesitant. He stepped inside with a cup of something warm—probably tea, knowing him. Gwen was right behind him, holding a plastic bag filled with snacks. Max quickly wiped at his face, even though he wasn’t actually crying. He just felt like he should be. “What do you want?” His voice came out rougher than intended. David didn’t take offense. He simply walked over and set the tea down on the bedside table. “Brought you something to drink. Thought you might want something warm.” Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him. “We also got some snacks. Figured you’d be sick of hospital food by now.” Max stared at them. At the way David’s expression was filled with concern but not pity. At the way Gwen looked at him like he was still him—not broken, not fragile, just… Max. His throat felt tight again, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. “You okay, kiddo?” David asked gently. Max didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know if he was okay. He didn’t know if he ever would be. But for now, they were here. They weren’t leaving. “…I don’t know,” he finally muttered. And for once, admitting that didn’t feel like giving up. "My parents don't want me to, do they?" David hesitated for a moment before reaching out, placing a careful hand on Max’s shoulder. It was light—barely there, as if giving Max the option to shake him off. Max didn’t. He didn’t lean into it, either, but he didn’t pull away. Gwen sighed, running a hand through her hair before muttering, “Fucking assholes.” Max let out a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” David gave him a soft look. “Max, I know this—” “Stop.” Max’s voice was sharp, cutting him off before he could start with all the comforting bullshit. He didn’t want to hear it. Not now. David closed his mouth, nodding. “Okay.” Silence settled between them. The only sounds were the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the hospital outside the room. Max glanced down at his stomach, pressing a hand against it, feeling the faint movement. “They’ve been moving a lot today,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. Gwen’s expression softened. “That’s good, right?” Max shrugged. “Guess so.” He paused. “Still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.” David smiled, just a little. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.” Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. ‘One step at a time.’ I get it.” Gwen snorted. “Wow, he does listen sometimes.” Max shot her a glare, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. Another moment of silence. Then, David shifted. “We, um—" He gestured toward the small bag they brought in. “The campers sent you some stuff. Cards, mostly. Some snacks.” Max blinked. “They… sent stuff?” Gwen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dumbass. They care about you.” Max didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all. David pulled out a few of the cards, placing them in Max’s lap. They were handmade, colorful, messy—some with little doodles, some with shaky handwriting. Max traced a finger over one, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Who will I stay with? I'm not going in the system..not again" David and Gwen exchanged a look. It was brief, but Max caught it. He always caught that shit. David was the first to speak. “Max… we’re figuring that out, okay?” Max clenched his jaw. “Figure it out? What the hell is there to figure out? I’m not going back into the system. Not again. I’d rather—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. His fingers gripped the blanket, knuckles turning white. Gwen sighed. “Max, we know. We know. We’re trying to find the best option for you, alright? It’s just—it’s not simple.” “Not simple,” Max echoed, voice flat. “It’s not fucking simple.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You know what is simple? Not putting me back with my shitty parents or throwing me back into the system like garbage.” David looked like he wanted to say something—probably something hopeful or reassuring—but Max wasn’t in the mood for that right now. “Max,” Gwen said, and her voice was softer than usual. “We’re not gonna let that happen. I swear.” Max stared at them. He wanted to believe them. He really did. But believing meant hope, and hope got people hurt. “…Yeah. Sure.” He leaned back against the pillows, looking away. “Whatever.” . . . "I mean, we both have a fostering license " David remembered Max's head snapped up. “What?” David shifted awkwardly, glancing at Gwen before continuing. “We both have a fostering license. I mean, it was just in case—” Gwen cut in, rolling her eyes. “David wanted to be extra prepared in case a camper ever needed it. I just went along with it.” Max stared at them. His mind felt like static. “So… you can just take me?” His voice was unreadable. “Well,” David hesitated, “there’s still paperwork and legal stuff to go through. But technically, yes, we can foster you.” Max’s fingers twitched against the blanket. He didn’t know how to feel. Relief? Suspicion? Both? This was better than going into the system again—better than returning to his parents—but… it felt weird. “You’re serious?” His voice was quieter now. David nodded. “Yeah, buddy. We’re serious.” Max didn’t say anything. He just looked at them, his expression unreadable. But for the first time in a long time, there was a tiny flicker of something in his chest. Something like safety. "Me AND them?" Max peered over his shoulder . . . David and Gwen exchanged a look before David nodded. “Yeah, Max. You and them.” Max's grip on the blanket tightened. His throat felt dry. “You… you’re saying you’d take me in and my kid?” His voice was quiet, almost like he was afraid to ask. “Of course,” Gwen said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you really think we’d take you in and just—what? Leave them behind?” Max looked down at his lap. He didn’t know what he thought. He just knew people didn’t usually want him, let alone him and a baby. But here they were, saying they did. David leaned forward. “You’re family, Max. You both are.” Something in Max’s chest ached. His stomach twisted, and for a second, he thought he was going to cry. But he didn’t. He just swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “…Okay,” he whispered. Okay. A silence sank into the room, just then the detective entered. . . . The detective stepped in, a clipboard in hand, her expression unreadable. She glanced between Max, David, and Gwen before clearing her throat. "Max, I need to ask you a few more questions," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "I know this isn't easy, but anything you can tell me will help make sure William never does this to anyone else." Max felt his body stiffen. He hated talking about it. Thinking about it. He didn’t want to go back there—not in his head, not ever. His fingers curled around the blanket. David must have noticed, because he placed a reassuring hand on Max’s shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for,” he reminded him gently. Max swallowed. His throat was dry. "I… I just want to know if he’s caught,” Max said instead. The detective hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she shook her head. “We’re still looking for him. But we will find him, Max. I promise.” Max felt his stomach drop. His breathing picked up just slightly. William was still out there. He could be anywhere. He could be planning something. David’s grip on his shoulder tightened just a little, grounding him. “You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” Max wanted to believe that. He really, really did. But William wasn’t the kind of monster that just disappeared. "Has anyone else gone missing?" Max entered The detective hesitated. That hesitation told Max everything he needed to know. She sighed, glancing at her clipboard. “Yes,” she admitted. “Two kids have been reported missing in the last week. We don’t know for sure if it’s connected, but…” Max’s stomach twisted. His grip on the blanket tightened. “But you think it is.” She didn’t answer right away, but the way her lips pressed into a firm line confirmed it. Gwen crossed her arms. “Then why the hell isn’t he caught yet?” she demanded. “How many more kids have to disappear before—” “We’re doing everything we can,” the detective cut in. “But we need more information. Anything that might help us predict his next move.” Her eyes landed on Max again. “You were with him for months, Max. Did he ever talk about where he might go? Did he mention any places, any names?” Max could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The thought of William taking another kid, of someone else being trapped in that basement, made him feel sick. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to talk about it. But what if—what if it helped? His hands trembled. He took a shaky breath. “…There was a place,” he muttered. “I don’t know where, but he talked about it. A ‘backup’ or something. Said he had another spot in case things got ‘complicated.’” The detective’s grip on her clipboard tightened. “Did he give any details? A description?” Max closed his eyes, trying to remember. The words were hazy, buried under months of trauma. But there was something. “…He mentioned a cabin.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Deep in the woods. Said no one ever went there anymore.” The detective nodded, scribbling something down. “That’s a start. I’ll have my team look into it.” Max didn’t know if it was enough. But if it meant stopping William before he could do this to anyone else—he had to try.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Max sighed, rubbing slow circles on his stomach as he stared out the window. The hospital lights reflected against the glass, blending with the deepening night. Somewhere out there, William was still free. Somewhere out there, those two kids were trapped, just like he had been. His fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his hoodie. He didn’t know them, but he knew what they were feeling—the fear, the loneliness, the helplessness. He had been there. And now he was out. But if he had never escaped… would those kids even be there? Had William replaced him that quickly? The thought made his stomach turn. Guilt pressed against his ribs, but then, as if sensing his unease, a small movement fluttered beneath his palm. Max stilled. Right. The baby. He looked down at his stomach, his touch gentler now. He may not have been able to hold them yet, but one day, he would. And for once, the idea of "one day" didn’t seem so far away. He could picture it—tiny hands gripping his fingers, sleepy eyes blinking up at him. A life. Their life. Together. A shaky breath left his lips as he stood, pacing the room in slow circles. He wanted to keep moving, keep feeling them there with him. Max may not have seemed like it earlier today, but he was happy. Happy that he could have helped. That he was helping. That he wasn’t alone. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed saving. Maybe those kids still had a chance. Maybe he did, too. He wasn’t sure when he ended up back in bed, but eventually, exhaustion settled in. He stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but thoughts still racing. Names. He should start thinking of names. If it was a girl… if it was a boy… Tomorrow. He’d ask David and Gwen. Maybe he’d even look through one of those dumb baby name books. Tomorrow. . . Tomorrow came with motion. Max was awoken by a nurse shaking him gently. Her voice was soft but expectant. She wanted to know if he wanted to find out the gender of the baby, since he was far enough along. Max hesitated. He wanted to know, but something about hearing it alone felt… wrong. Like he needed someone there, just in case. Just in case what? He didn’t know. But the weight of the moment felt too heavy for him to hold on his own. So, he told the nurse to call Gwen and David. They were there within ten minutes, a little out of breath like they had rushed, like they actually cared. And then, it was time. Max lay back on the hospital bed, his heart pounding harder than he expected. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but something close. The anticipation, the weight of it all, sat heavy in his chest. The nurse smiled as she spread the cold gel over his stomach, and Max shivered slightly at the sensation. Gwen and David stood close by, watching with soft, eager expressions. David looked like he was holding his breath. Gwen had her arms crossed, but there was something almost nervous in her stance, like she was just as anxious as Max was. "Alright, let’s take a look," the nurse said, moving the probe over Max’s belly. The screen flickered to life, and a moment later, there it was—tiny, but real. Max’s lips parted slightly as he stared at the screen. He had seen ultrasounds before, but this was different. This was his baby. His baby. The nurse smiled. "Would you like to know the gender?" Max swallowed, then nodded, glancing at David and Gwen before looking back at the screen. The nurse paused for a second, letting the moment settle before finally saying, "It’s a girl." A girl. Max exhaled, his body relaxing in a way he hadn’t realized was tensed up. A girl. His daughter. He felt something unfamiliar rise in his chest—something warm, something real. Gwen wiped her eyes quickly, pretending she wasn’t getting emotional, while David grinned, looking like he was about to explode with excitement. "Max, that’s… that’s amazing!" Max let out a short laugh, still staring at the screen. His daughter. "Yeah," he said, voice softer than usual. "It is." "Though it is good news, and wonderful news actually, we do need to talk about how you plan on giving birth to her," the doctor said. Max blinked, his momentary warmth interrupted by the doctor's words. His grip on the hospital sheets tightened slightly. He hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Right..." Max muttered, glancing at the screen again. His daughter. But how the hell was she supposed to get out of him? David and Gwen looked at the doctor expectantly, but Max could already tell that neither of them had an answer. They were just as in the dark as he was. The doctor cleared their throat. "There are two options, and given your unique circumstances, we need to start planning soon. We can discuss the possibility of a natural birth, but considering the risks, a C-section would likely be the safest option." Max felt his stomach twist. "A... C-section?" His voice came out quieter than he wanted. The doctor nodded. "It’s a major surgery, but it’s often the best choice for situations like yours. We’ll monitor you closely over the next few months to make sure you and the baby remain healthy, but it’s something we need to prepare for." Max's fingers hovered over his belly. He could still feel her tiny movements. The idea of someone cutting him open—it sent a shiver down his spine. "Would that hurt her?" The question came out before he could stop it. The doctor shook their head. "No, not at all. She’ll be perfectly safe. And you’ll be given anesthesia, so you won’t feel anything during the procedure. The recovery, however, will take time." Max swallowed hard. He barely felt in control of anything right now. And now, even the way his daughter was going to be born was something he had no say in. Gwen must have noticed the way his expression changed because she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you don’t have to decide anything today. Just... think about it, okay?" Max nodded slowly, still staring at the ultrasound screen. His daughter. No matter how she got here, he just needed to make sure she was safe. "Okay," he murmured. "I’ll think about it." On Max's way back to the room, he was given a pamphlet on the different and many varieties of how to give birth to a child in the modern age. There was, of course, C-sections and natural birth, epidurals, and then something that caught his eye was the water birth. He'd ask about that later.. . . Back in his room, Max sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through the pamphlet. His eyes skimmed over the descriptions of different birthing methods, barely registering most of them. C-sections, epidurals, home births—none of it really felt real yet. But then, his gaze landed on something that made him pause. Water birth. He frowned, rereading the section. Apparently, it was supposed to be more comfortable, easing the pain of labor by relaxing the muscles and reducing stress. It also mentioned that the baby would transition more gently from the womb to the outside world. Max traced a finger over the words, a small part of him wondering if that would be better. Less scary, maybe. More natural, in a way that didn’t make him feel like a science experiment. He wasn’t sure if the doctors would even consider it an option for him, but he figured it was worth asking. As he set the pamphlet aside, he exhaled. His mind was spinning. All of this—choosing how he was going to give birth, making sure his daughter was safe—it was overwhelming. He never thought he'd be in this position, yet here he was. A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts. David and Gwen stepped in, carrying more snacks and a few books. "How’d it go?" Gwen asked, setting her things down. Max hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Fine, I guess. They told me she’s healthy." His voice softened at the last part. David grinned. "That’s great news, Max!" "Yeah..." Max rubbed his stomach absentmindedly. "They also gave me this." He held up the pamphlet. "Different ways to give birth and stuff." Gwen leaned over to look at it. "Did anything stand out to you?" Max hesitated again, his fingers tapping against the paper. "The water birth thing. I dunno... it sounds less... I don’t know, scary, I guess?" David and Gwen exchanged a glance, but neither of them dismissed it. "You should bring it up with the doctor," David said. "If it’s something you’re interested in, it’s worth looking into." Max nodded. "Yeah. I will." For now, he had time. Time to figure this out. Time to prepare. And for once, he didn’t feel entirely alone in it. . . . The next day went by pretty fast. I mean, he went to a different kind of doctor's appointment. The lady that was doing the examinant was called an OBGYN. He didn't remember completely, but, you know, she checked his lower regions to make sure everything with the baby and his working would work perfectly fine when there would be a chance of giving birth to the baby. He talked to her about the possibility of a water birth as well. She listened carefully as he explained why it caught his interest, nodding along as he spoke. "Water births can be a great option for pain management and a smoother transition for the baby," she said. "But given your unique situation, we’d have to take some extra precautions. We’d need to monitor you closely, and there are some risks involved." Max swallowed. "Like what?" "Well, since you’re not giving birth the traditional way, we’d have to make sure your body is prepared for labor. There could be complications, and depending on how things progress, we might need to switch to a C-section at any point for safety reasons." That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but it made sense. He nodded, mulling over her words. "So… it's possible?" She gave him a small smile. "It's possible. We’ll keep an eye on things and see how your body responds as you get further along. If everything looks good, we can make it happen." That was enough for now. He'd take possible over impossible any day. By the time he got back to his hospital room, he felt drained. The last few days had been a whirlwind, and his mind was constantly racing. But at least now, he had some sort of plan. Something to hold onto. David and Gwen were already waiting for him when he walked in, their expressions filled with curiosity. "So?" Gwen asked, sitting up. "How’d it go?" Max exhaled as he sat down on the bed. "She said it’s possible. They just gotta keep an eye on me." David smiled. "That’s great, Max! At least you have options." Max nodded, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach. "Yeah. Options." For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a say in something. Like he had control. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him going. Gwen crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair beside his bed. “You don’t sound all that excited about it.” Max scoffed. “I mean, it’s not like I ever planned for this.” He gestured vaguely to his stomach. “I didn’t sit around one day and think, ‘Oh yeah, I wanna push a whole human out of me.’” David chuckled nervously. “Well… yeah, I guess that’s fair.” Gwen sighed. “Look, we’re not saying you have to be excited, Max. But… it’s your choice. And that’s something, right?” Max was quiet for a moment, staring down at his hands. It was something. It was more than he had in that basement. More than he had when he was trapped. He had control now. He had options. That was more than he ever thought he’d have. “…Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess it is.” David and Gwen let the conversation settle, not pushing him further. Instead, David pulled something out of his bag and set it on the bed beside Max. It was a small, soft baby blanket. Pale yellow. Unisex. Max hesitated before picking it up, running his fingers over the fabric. It was softer than anything he’d ever owned. “Where’d you get this?” David smiled warmly. “The campers pooled their money together to get it. They wanted to send something, you know… since they can’t visit.” Max blinked, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He wasn’t sure why, but that hit him harder than he expected. He pressed his lips together and swallowed down whatever weird emotions were bubbling up. “That’s… kinda stupid,” he muttered. Gwen smirked. “Yeah, but you’re still holding onto it.” Max didn’t let go. Not even when they changed the subject. Not even when Gwen and David eventually had to leave for the night. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the blanket clutched to his chest. (2 months passed) . . . "I'm only seven months, right? I mean, how many more is there to go? Like, two now, right?" Max asked The doctor standing in the corner of the room, tapping away on the computer. The doctor glanced up from the screen, giving Max a reassuring nod. "That's right. You're at about seven months now, which means you've got roughly two more to go. Of course, every pregnancy is different, so we’ll monitor you closely." Max let out a breath, leaning back against the pillows. "Two months," he muttered. It felt both too far away and way too close at the same time. David, who was sitting beside him, perked up. "That means we should probably start getting things ready, right? Like… baby supplies, a crib, clothes—” Gwen smirked. "You mean we should start getting things ready. Max isn’t exactly in a position to be running around buying baby furniture." Max rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit." The doctor chuckled, tapping a few more things into the computer. "There are definitely some things you’ll want to start preparing for—especially if you're considering a water birth, Max. We’ll need to discuss a proper setup for that, whether you'd want it at a birthing center or at home." Max sat up a little, crossing his arms. "And if I don’t make a choice soon?" "Then we’ll help you figure it out," the doctor said simply. "You’re not doing this alone, Max." Max glanced between the three of them—David, Gwen, and the doctor. He didn’t say anything, but for once, he didn’t argue. . Later that evening, back in his hospital room, Max lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Seven months. Two more to go. It felt surreal. The weight of it all pressed down on him in a way it hadn't before. He wasn't just surviving anymore—he was preparing. For a life. A baby. His baby. His hand instinctively moved to his stomach, feeling the slight movements inside. His baby girl. She was real. More real than she had ever felt before. A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Gwen peeked in first, followed by David, both carrying a few bags. "Guess what," Gwen said, tossing a bag onto the bed. Max raised a brow, eyeing it suspiciously before opening it up. Inside were tiny baby clothes—onesies, socks, even a little beanie with bear ears. "You guys went shopping?" Max asked, pulling out one of the outfits. David beamed. "Of course! You can't have a baby without baby clothes!" Max stared at the tiny fabric in his hands. It was soft, pink with little yellow stars. He swallowed. "You're really doing this," Gwen said, sitting at the edge of his bed. "You're really having a baby, Max. And we're gonna help. Every step of the way." Max didn't know what to say. He looked at them—David practically buzzing with excitement, Gwen giving him that soft, understanding look. He exhaled, setting the onesie down beside him. "Yeah," he muttered. "I guess we are." "So...I'll be with you guys or?" Max asked and Gwen replied,  "Well, since we are from here, I do have a home here, and you, me, and the baby will be staying at my home, and David and another camp counselor, who is an intern, will be with the campers until camp is over. I mean, I'll go over and visit, of course, but I'll be with you, and I'll be your main caretaker." Max blinked at her, processing. “So, you’re saying… I’ll be living with you?” Gwen nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it makes the most sense. I already have a place, and you’ll need someone to help you with the baby. Plus, I’m not just gonna leave you alone.” Max’s fingers curled slightly against the hospital sheets. It wasn’t like he had any other options. His parents sure as hell weren’t stepping up. And… the idea of having someone there—someone who actually cared—felt weird. Weird, but not bad. David clapped his hands together. “And don’t worry! I’ll be around too! We’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.” Max scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Great. Just what I need.” Max said sarcastically. Gwen smirked. “Get used to it, kid.” He huffed but didn’t argue. Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The days blurred together in the hospital. Max was starting to lose track of time, though he guessed it didn’t really matter. The important part was that things were set—he wasn’t going back to his parents, and he wasn’t going into the system. He was going with Gwen.That thought alone was enough to keep him grounded. Well, that and the little kicks he kept feeling in his stomach.The doctors had been monitoring him closely, making sure everything was on track with the pregnancy. He was seven months now—two more to go. Two more months until everything changed again. Until she was here.His daughter.The thought made his chest feel weird. Heavy. It wasn’t bad, just… big. Like it was too much to hold all at once.Gwen had brought him some clothes, and after days of hospital gowns, it was nice to wear something normal again. Well, as normal as things could be.David had visited earlier that morning before heading back to camp, making a big show of telling Max to call if he needed anything at all. Max just nodded along, not really sure what to say. David always meant well. It was annoying, but also… kinda nice.Now, it was just him and Gwen in the room. She was flipping through her phone, probably checking emails or something. Max looked down at his stomach, running a hand over the fabric of his shirt.“You scared?” he asked suddenly.Gwen looked up. “Huh?”Max nodded at his belly. “You know… about all this? Taking care of me, the baby. Just… everything.”Gwen blinked, then sighed, putting her phone down. “Honestly? Yeah. A little.”Max frowned. He hadn’t expected her to actually admit it.“But that’s normal,” she added. “I mean, this is a lot, Max. It’d be weird if I wasn’t a little freaked out. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna do it. We’ll figure it out.”Max swallowed. “Even if I suck at this?”Gwen snorted. “You don’t suck, Max. You’re just… figuring things out, same as me.”That heavy feeling in his chest settled a little. He nodded, staring down at his hands. “Yeah. Okay.” ....."Soo..you and David a thing?" Max smirkedGwen choked on absolutely nothing. "What?! No! Oh my god, Max, what the hell?"Max just grinned, leaning back against the hospital pillows. "I mean, you two act like an old married couple already. Might as well make it official."Gwen groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Max, I swear to god, if I have to hear one more person say that—""So people have said it before," Max cut in, his smirk widening.Gwen shot him a look. "That is not the point!"Max snickered. "Suuuure it isn't."Gwen folded her arms. "Okay, first of all, David and I are friends. Second of all, do you really think I’d date someone that chipper? I’d lose my mind."Max shrugged. "I dunno. You put up with him enough.""Because I have to," Gwen huffed. "It's not the same thing."Max just gave her a knowing look.She groaned again. "Oh my god, why am I having this conversation with an eleven-year-old?""Hey," Max corrected, patting his stomach, "an eleven-year-old with a baby."Gwen sighed, but there was a small smile on her face. "You're impossible."..It was quiet for a bit.Max broke the silence."Has there been any news with William?" Max asked Gwen.Gwen's expression shifted instantly, her small smile fading. She hesitated, pressing her lips together before answering."There’s… not much yet," she admitted. "The police are still looking for him, but so far, he's managed to stay off the radar."Max clenched his fists. Of course. That bastard was still out there, probably planning his next move, his next victim. The thought made his stomach twist."They're not gonna let this go, though," Gwen continued, her voice firm. "They will find him, Max."Max scoffed. "Yeah? And what if they don’t? What if he just disappears forever? What if—" He stopped himself, biting the inside of his cheek.What if William came back for him?Gwen must've picked up on what he wasn’t saying because she reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "You're safe now, Max," she said. "He’s not gonna get to you again."Max exhaled sharply, looking away. He wanted to believe that. Really, he did. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over...Gwen spoke up, "they did find those other kids in the cabin you mentioned, you did help Max."Max’s eyes widened slightly. He had almost forgotten about them in the chaos of everything else.“They… they did?” His voice was quiet, almost unsure.Gwen nodded. “Yeah. Two kids. Scared out of their minds, but they’re safe now. They’re with the police, and they’re gonna get the help they need.”Max swallowed. That meant… that meant he actually did something. He saved them. They weren’t stuck there, suffering like he had. He helped.His hand unconsciously moved to his stomach, fingers resting gently over the small swell.For once, he didn’t feel so useless."Sooo, hundred percent sure you and David not a-"“Nope! Nope, nope, nope!” Gwen cut him off, waving her hands frantically. “Not happening, not a thing, drop it, Max.”Max smirked, crossing his arms. “Suuure. You guys act like a married couple already.”Gwen groaned, rubbing her temples. “I swear, dealing with you and David is gonna give me gray hairs.”Max just snickered. “Didn’t deny it, though.”Gwen huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.”Max leaned back against the hospital bed, still smirking. “Technically, I’m almost twelve. And a parent, apparently. So, I think I qualify to talk about adult relationships.”Gwen gave him a deadpan look. “Oh, so now you’re an expert?”Max shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been watching you two dance around whatever the hell this is for years. It’s like watching a really bad rom-com, except the main leads are both emotionally constipated.”Gwen scoffed. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, David and I are friends. Good friends. That’s it.”Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.”Gwen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can we talk about something else? Literally anything else?”Max chuckled but decided to drop it—for now. He had bigger things to think about, anyway. “Fine. So… what happens next? With me, I mean.”Gwen’s expression softened as she sat down beside him. “Well, we’ll be discharged soon. Then we’ll get you settled at my place, set up a space for the baby, and figure things out as we go.”Max nodded, but there was something gnawing at him. “And… William?”Gwen hesitated for a moment before answering. “The cops are still looking for him. But they found those other kids you told them about. You really did help, Max.”Max exhaled, not sure if he felt relief or something else. “Yeah. Good.”There was a beat of silence before he smirked again. “So, about you and David—”Gwen groaned loudly, grabbing a pillow and lightly smacking him with it. “Max!”Max just laughed.A few hours passed, and Max was finally being discharged. Gwen helped him out of bed and packed the few items he had.The detective enteredThe detective stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, offering a small nod to both Max and Gwen. “Alright, Max. Before you leave, I just wanted to check in one last time,” she said, her tone careful, like she didn’t want to overwhelm him.Max shifted his weight, adjusting to standing again. “Yeah? About what?”She glanced at her notes. “Well, we’re still searching for William, but we have a solid lead. We also wanted to let you know that if you remember anything—anything at all—that might help, you can always reach out.”Max swallowed, gripping the strap of the hospital bag Gwen had packed for him. “Right.”The detective hesitated before continuing. “Also, I wanted to ask… are you feeling okay? I mean, I know this isn’t exactly a simple situation.”Max huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m walking out of here, aren’t I?”The detective gave him a small smile. “That you are.” She handed him a card. “If you ever need anything, just call.”Max took it, shoving it into his pocket without looking. “Yeah. Thanks.”With that, the detective nodded at Gwen, then left, letting the door swing shut behind her.Gwen turned to Max. “Ready to go?”Max exhaled, glancing around the hospital room one last time. “Yeah. Let’s get the hell out of here.”...Gwen house was a 15 minute drive away from the hospital, she and David had prepared a room for him and the babyThe drive was quiet, except for the occasional hum of the radio and the distant sound of cars passing by. Max kept a hand on his stomach, lost in thought. This was it. A new place, a new situation. No hospital beds, no constant checkups—just him, Gwen, and the baby.When they pulled up to Gwen’s house, Max stared at it for a moment. It was cozy. Smaller than he expected, but it didn’t feel suffocating. Just… different.Gwen parked and got out, grabbing some of his things from the trunk. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”Inside, the house smelled like old books and coffee. There were scattered papers on the coffee table, a half-empty mug resting on top of them. “Sorry for the mess,” Gwen muttered, kicking a pair of shoes to the side as she led him down the hall.She stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. “Here it is.”Max stepped inside and blinked. The room wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t cramped either. A bed sat in the corner with fresh sheets, and right next to it— a crib.He swallowed hard. “You… you guys did all this?”Gwen shrugged. “Well, yeah. David and I figured you’d need a place to stay, and the baby too, obviously. So, we got some stuff. Nothing fancy, but…”Max ran a hand over the crib’s edge. It was real. This was real.“It’s good,” he muttered. “Thanks.”Gwen smiled. “Of course. Make yourself at home, Max.”.Max sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his stomach. The room felt… different. Safe, maybe. He didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like, but it wasn’t bad. The crib next to him was the realest thing in the room. Every time he looked at it, something in his chest tightened.Gwen lingered in the doorway. “You okay?”Max nodded, but he wasn’t sure if it was true. “Yeah.”She didn’t look convinced but didn’t push. “Alright. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”He listened to her footsteps fade down the hall before lying back on the bed. The mattress was softer than he expected. He stared up at the ceiling, one hand still resting on his stomach, feeling the small movements from inside.A tiny kick.Max exhaled slowly. “Guess this is home now, huh?”Another small nudge.He shut his eyes. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.Max wondered what she looked like. Would she have his eyes? His hair? Or would she look nothing like him at all? He tried to picture her—tiny fingers, round cheeks, maybe a little button nose. Would she smile like him? Or maybe… maybe she wouldn’t have anything of his. Maybe she’d take after him instead. The thought made his stomach twist.“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She’s mine.”She was his. No one else’s. She wasn’t going to be some twisted reflection of the past. She was going to be her own person. Someone better. Someone safe. Someone loved.He ran his hand over his stomach, feeling the small movements.“I’ll make sure of it.”Max snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Gwen’s voice calling him from down the hall.“Dinner’s ready!”He took one last glance at his stomach before sighing and pushing himself up from the bed. His legs still felt a little weak, but he managed. He walked out of his new room, following the smell of food into the kitchen.Gwen was setting plates down at the table, and as he got closer, he realized she had actually cooked something homemade. Not just some frozen meal thrown in the microwave—real food.“I didn’t know you could actually cook,” Max muttered, sliding into a chair.Gwen scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I can cook, thank you very much. Just don’t ask me to bake. That’s David’s thing.”Max snorted. Of course, it was. David seemed like the kind of guy who would make cookies from scratch just because it was a rainy day.Gwen sat down across from him, motioning toward his plate. “You need to eat. Doctor’s orders.”Max picked up his fork, hesitating for just a second before taking a bite. It was… actually pretty good. Warm, filling. He hadn’t realized how much he missed a simple home-cooked meal.Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe—just maybe—this could feel like home.Dinner was simple: a nice homemade grilled cheese and tomato soup. To normal people, it was nice, homey, and warm. But for Max, this was different; this was more; this was everything. Max didn't even realize he was crying until Gwen wiped away his tears."Hey, hey," Gwen said softly, her tone so different from her usual sarcastic self. "What's wrong?"Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Nothing. It's nothing."But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything. The warmth of the food, the quiet comfort of the house, the way Gwen had just wiped away his tears like it was the most natural thing in the world. No yelling, no cruel words, no dismissive looks. Just… care.Max heard a soft thump, like a small flutter in his stomach. He stilled, placing a hand over it, feeling the gentle movement. It was her. His daughter. Moving, reminding him she was there. It was strange, but comforting. He wondered what she looked like. If she’d have his eyes. If she’d have his attitude. If she’d have the chance to live a life better than his.Gwen didn’t push him to talk. She just sat there, letting him have his moment. After a while, she gave him a small smirk and said, “Damn, kid, I didn’t know my cooking was that good.”Max let out a choked laugh, wiping his face with his sleeve. “It’s alright, I guess.”"Uh-huh," Gwen said, amused, before nodding toward his plate. "Eat before it gets cold, alright?"Max nodded and took another bite. It was warm. It was good. And for the first time in a long time, he felt… safe.After dinner, Max helped Gwen clean up—not because she asked him to, but because he wanted to. It felt… normal. Something about standing at the sink, rinsing dishes while she dried them, made everything feel less chaotic. Like the world wasn’t as heavy as it had been. Like he wasn’t just some broken kid who got lucky enough to be found."So…" Gwen started, leaning against the counter. "You feeling alright? I mean, besides the hormones making you cry over grilled cheese."Max rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Gwen," he muttered sarcastically, but there was no real bite in his tone.Gwen smirked, but then her face softened. "I mean it, though."Max hesitated. He thought about everything—about the baby, about William, about how the world still felt too big and too uncertain. But he also thought about how, for the first time, he wasn’t alone. That was something, right?"I'm… getting there," he admitted, drying his hands on a dish towel.Gwen nodded. "Good. One step at a time, Max."One step at a time.Later that night, Max lay in his new bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was simple—Gwen and David had really tried. There was a bassinet set up next to his bed, small and empty, waiting. There were a few baby supplies stacked neatly in the corner, and a soft nightlight casting a dim glow across the walls.Max turned onto his side, placing a hand over his stomach. "Guess it's just us again, huh?" he mumbled.A soft kick in response.Max smiled to himself. "Yeah… I think we'll be okay.""Can I go shower?" Max asked, and Gwen looked at him in somewhat shock, "Max, you don't have to ask me to do that!"Max shrugged, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “I dunno, just figured I should.”Gwen’s expression softened as she crossed her arms. “Max, this is your home now. You don’t have to ask permission for basic stuff like that.”Max shifted on his feet. Home. That word still felt foreign. He wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, but he nodded anyway. “Right. Okay.”Gwen smiled. “Bathroom’s down the hall, towels are in the cabinet. Take your time.”Max grabbed some clean clothes Gwen had set out for him earlier and made his way to the bathroom. The warm steam felt different—clean, safe. He stood under the spray longer than necessary, just letting himself exist in the moment.For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to rush.Max let the warm water cascade over him, washing away the grime, the exhaustion, and maybe—just maybe—a little bit of the weight he’d been carrying. He pressed his hands to his stomach, feeling the gentle movements of his baby girl. She was there. She was real. They were here together.His throat tightened. He didn’t know why, but standing under the steady stream of water, the reality of everything hit him all over again. He was safe. He was clean. He had a place to sleep that wasn’t a cold, damp floor. He had food. He had Gwen. He had David. He had a future.And yet, for some reason, he still felt like any second, it could all be ripped away.Max swallowed hard and turned off the shower, stepping out into the steamy bathroom. He wiped a hand across the fogged-up mirror and stared at himself. He looked... different. Not just because he was cleaner, but because his face wasn’t as hollow as before. His eyes weren’t as dull. He still looked tired, yeah. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t look completely lifeless.By the time he made it back to his room, Gwen had already set out a few extra blankets on his bed. She looked up when he entered, raising an eyebrow. "Feel better?"Max hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."Gwen smiled, but she still had that knowing look in her eyes. "Good. Try to get some rest, okay? You and the baby need it."Max climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself. He placed a hand on his belly again, feeling another small movement. He closed his eyes and whispered, “We’re gonna be okay.”And for the first time, he almost believed it....The next day came quicker than Max expected. He woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the window, a rare moment of peace settling over him. He blinked, adjusting to the quietness of Gwen’s house—no distant screaming, no threats, no cold floors. Just warmth. Just… normal.For a second, he didn’t know what to do with it.Then, the familiar weight of his growing belly brought him back. His daughter was still here. Still safe. He let his hand rest on his stomach, feeling the smallest flutter of movement.A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Hey, you up?" Gwen’s voice was light, careful, like she was giving him the option to ignore her."Yeah," Max muttered, shifting to sit up. "Come in."Gwen peeked her head in with a small smile. "Good morning, kiddo. How’d you sleep?"Max shrugged. "Better than usual.""Good," she said, stepping in fully. "I made breakfast if you’re hungry."Max hesitated. He was hungry, but it still felt weird—having someone cook for him, making sure he was okay. But he wasn’t going to turn it down. "Yeah, sure."Gwen nodded and left him to get ready. Max sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before finally pushing himself up. He grabbed a pair of clean clothes from the dresser Gwen had stocked for him and slowly made his way to the kitchen.The smell of scrambled eggs and toast filled the air, and for the first time in a long time, Max felt like maybe—just maybe—this could be his new normal.Max sat at the table, staring at the plate of food in front of him. Scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit on the side. Simple, but… nice. It was still weird, though. Being taken care of like this. He wasn’t used to it.Gwen sat across from him, pretending not to watch him too closely, but Max could feel it. She was worried. He got it—he really did—but it was exhausting."You don’t have to keep staring at me like I’m gonna pass out at any second," Max muttered, picking up his fork.Gwen scoffed, taking a sip of her coffee. "Not my fault you’ve been through hell and back. Sue me for caring."Max rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He took a bite of the eggs, and okay—damn. They were actually good. Not that he’d admit it."So, what’s the plan for today?" he asked between bites.Gwen perked up at that. "Well, I was thinking we could go shopping."Max paused mid-chew. "Shopping?""Yeah, y’know, for the baby," she said, giving him a look like it should be obvious. "You haven’t gotten anything yet, and we’re kind of on a time crunch."Max blinked. Right. The baby. His baby. His daughter.The thought of picking out stuff for her sent a weird feeling through his chest—something between excitement and sheer panic. "I mean… yeah, okay," he said, trying to sound indifferent.Gwen smirked. "Cool. We’ll head out in an hour."Max just nodded, finishing up his food. He didn’t know how he felt about the idea of baby shopping, but one thing was for sure—this was really happening. And there was no turning back...."Max, we do need to go to the clinic." Max looked over at her; at this point, they were just leaving for the mall. And Gwen was packing the bigger and heavier bags, while Max held a small box of shoes and socks."Why?" Gwen looked back, "Well, we gotta finalize how you want to have her; then we need a midwife, a pediatrician for her, talk to your OBGYN, and so much more!" Gwen smiled smugly, making Max sigh heavily. "So this was just a time waster?" Gwen's head twisted back, "No, we have to make sure she has everything she'll need before she's here."Max groaned, shifting the small box of baby shoes in his arms. "So this was just a time waster?"Gwen turned her head, giving him a deadpan look. "No, Max. We have to make sure she has everything she'll need before she's here."He sighed heavily, glancing down at the tiny socks poking out from the box. It wasn’t that he didn’t get it. He did. But it was all just… a lot. One minute, he was dealing with picking out onesies, and now, they were talking about midwives and pediatricians."You’re acting like she’s about to pop out tomorrow," Max muttered, following Gwen toward the car."Max, you’re already seven months in. It’s gonna feel like tomorrow," she shot back, tossing the heavier bags into the trunk.Max hesitated before getting into the passenger seat, rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. He could feel her shifting a little, not kicking, just moving. He wondered if she could hear them talking. If she knew they were running around, making sure she had everything she’d need.As Gwen started the car, she glanced at him. "Look, I know it's overwhelming, but this is just part of it. You're not doing this alone, okay?"Max stared out the window, watching the parking lot blur as they pulled out. "Yeah. Okay," he mumbled.Because really, what else could he say?The drive to the clinic was quiet, aside from the soft hum of the radio playing some old rock song Gwen probably liked. Max just stared out the window, watching the trees and buildings blur past. His mind was racing, but he didn’t really know what to say.Gwen must’ve noticed because after a few minutes, she spoke up. "You alright, kid?"Max blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Just… thinking.""About what?""About all of this," he admitted, resting his hand on his stomach. "It’s just weird. Feels like it’s happening too fast, but at the same time, it’s dragging."Gwen hummed in understanding. "Yeah, I get that. But trust me, once she’s here, it’s gonna feel like time flew by.""Yeah," Max muttered. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or not.The clinic was a small building tucked between a pharmacy and a coffee shop. Gwen parked the car and turned to Max before getting out. "Look, we’re just talking to them today, making sure everything’s set up. No pressure, alright?"Max rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."Inside, the waiting room was quiet, the scent of antiseptic and cheap air freshener filling the space. Gwen checked them in at the front desk while Max took a seat, tapping his fingers against his knee.A few minutes later, a nurse called his name, leading them to an exam room. "So, Max, we’ll just do a quick check-up and talk about your birth plan today," she said with a warm smile."Birth plan," Max repeated, like the words were foreign to him.Gwen nudged his arm. "That thing you said you were interested in? Water birth?""Oh. Right," Max muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the exam table.The nurse nodded. "That’s definitely an option. We can go over how it works, and if you’re sure about it, we’ll start making arrangements with a midwife."Max nodded, trying to absorb everything. It still felt like too much, but at least it was happening step by step. For now, all he could do was take it one thing at a time.The nurse smiled and started checking Max’s vitals—blood pressure, heart rate, temperature—while Gwen stood nearby, her hands folded in front of her, patiently waiting. Max could feel Gwen’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look at her. He wasn’t sure what to say or if he was even supposed to say anything. It all felt like it was happening too fast, like he was in a race to prepare for something he still couldn’t completely wrap his head around.Once the nurse finished, she wrote down some notes and gave Max a sympathetic smile. "Everything looks good so far, Max. Your baby’s healthy, and you're doing well, considering everything you’ve been through. Just let us know if anything changes, okay?"Max nodded, biting his lip as he thought about what to ask next. His mind was swirling with things he didn’t understand. Birth plans, midwives, pediatricians—all this new stuff was starting to pile up. It felt like the world was trying to push him into being someone he wasn’t ready to be yet."Max?" Gwen asked softly."Yeah?""Do you feel okay about everything? You don’t have to rush into any decisions."He glanced up at her, feeling the weight of her concern. She was always looking out for him."I don’t know," Max admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. "It’s just... too much at once, you know? I didn’t even know I wanted a kid, and now I have to figure out how to take care of one. It’s... a lot."Gwen nodded, understanding the overwhelm. "Yeah, it’s huge. But I’m here, and David’s here. And we’ll figure it out together, step by step. We’ll make sure you’re ready when the time comes."Max looked at her, unsure of how to feel. Part of him wanted to collapse into her arms and tell her everything he was afraid of. The other part of him felt like an idiot for even feeling scared. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be scared when everyone else seemed so sure.Before he could say anything else, the door opened, and the doctor entered, her presence pulling Max out of his thoughts. "Alright, Max, let’s get started. We can talk about the water birth now, if you’re still interested. The midwife can help you with any concerns or questions you have."Max took a deep breath, feeling the nervous energy twist inside him. This was it—the next step. "Yeah, let’s do that. I want to know more."As the doctor began explaining the process of a water birth, Max listened closely. It didn’t seem like the scariest option, but it still felt like it was a long way from anything he had ever imagined for himself. Still, he had to admit that it was a little comforting to know there were options, to know that he wasn’t completely alone in figuring this out.The doctor wrapped up the explanation, gave him some pamphlets to read, and promised that they’d help set up everything he needed in the coming weeks. "Just make sure you reach out if you have any questions, Max. This is your decision, and we’ll be here to support you, whatever you choose."Max nodded, his heart a little heavier than it had been before. There were still so many decisions to make, so many things he didn’t understand, but at least he wasn’t completely on his own.As they left the clinic, Gwen gave him a reassuring smile. "See? You made it through. One step closer."Max tried to smile back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, one step."And for now, that was enough. One step at a time."I wanna do it—the water thing, yeah, that." The nurse nodded before going to get a couple of files. "Max, you know what I just remembered?" Max looked up. "" Gwen laughed. "You can't swim." max sunk into his sleep. "It's not like I'm in a real swimming pool! It's going to be one of those pools 30-year-old women get in the summer." Gwen smiled while rubbing his back.The nurse came back, holding a couple of files in her hand and a clipboard under her arm. She set the files down on the counter and began flipping through them.Max gave Gwen a look, half amused and half exasperated. "I can still do it. I’m not gonna drown or anything. It’s not like I’ve never been in water before."Gwen raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I’m just saying, you always act like you're about to drown in a kiddie pool, Max."Max rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "It’s different. It’s not a kiddie pool. It’s not a public pool full of gross, floating things."The nurse chuckled as she skimmed through the files. "Actually, Max, the water birth pool is designed to be as safe as possible. It’s a controlled environment, and you'll have a midwife and doctor right there with you. It's different than swimming; it’s more about comfort than anything else."Max nodded, feeling a little more reassured. "Okay, good. That makes sense."He let out a long sigh and leaned back, letting Gwen rub his back. Despite his nervousness, he couldn't help but relax under her touch. She always knew how to calm him down, even in the moments when everything felt too overwhelming. The idea of birth, of being a parent, of everything that was coming, it still terrified him—but having Gwen there made him feel like maybe he wasn’t totally alone in this."I’ll be fine," Max muttered, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.Gwen smiled softly, her hand still rubbing his back. "I know you will be. We’ve got you, Max. And I know you’re strong enough to do this."Max closed his eyes for a second, allowing her words to sink in. Then, before he could stop himself, he yawned, feeling exhaustion creep in. The past few days had been a blur, and his body was starting to feel the weight of everything he’d been through."I’m just really tired," Max admitted quietly, feeling his body relax into the bed.Gwen smiled again, her voice soft as she continued rubbing his back. "Get some rest, Max. You’ve earned it. You’re doing great."As Max drifted off into a light sleep, he felt a little bit of the weight lift off his chest. Maybe everything wasn’t going to be perfect. Maybe he still didn’t have all the answers. But at least he wasn’t alone anymore. And that was more than he could have ever hoped for.For now, he let himself rest. He had a long road ahead of him, but with Gwen and David by his side, maybe it wouldn’t be as scary as he thought.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In the car ride back home, Max slept quietly.Gwen glanced over at him every so often, her hands steady on the wheel. The soft rise and fall of his chest was a reminder that, for now, he was safe. She knew he hadn’t been sleeping well—not really. Even when he did sleep, there were nights she’d hear him tossing and turning, muttering under his breath.The past few days had been overwhelming. Between finalizing his birth plan, setting up appointments, and preparing for the baby, there had been little time to just breathe. Max had been trying to act normal, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling everything so intensely. But Gwen saw through it.David had wanted to come, but camp still needed him. He was balancing both worlds the best he could—making sure Max had everything he needed while still looking after the kids at camp. Gwen wasn’t sure how he managed it.A small sigh escaped her lips as she turned onto her street. The sky was shifting into a soft orange, the sun beginning its descent. It was peaceful. A rare moment of calm. She wished Max could have more of these.As she pulled into the driveway, she hesitated before waking him. He looked so at peace for once, his face relaxed, his breathing even. She didn’t want to take that away from him.Instead, she sat there for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the car engine. The reality of it all was sinking in more and more. Max was about to have a baby. A whole baby. And she and David were the ones stepping up to help him through it.It wasn’t going to be easy.But she was determined to make sure he never felt alone again.With a deep breath, she reached over and gently shook his shoulder.“Max, we’re home.”"Mm? Wha?" Max rubbed his eyes.Gwen smiled softly. “We’re home, kiddo.”Max blinked a few times, still groggy from sleep. He stretched a little before grumbling, “Feels like we were in the car forever.”Gwen chuckled. “It was only about twenty minutes.”Max huffed as he unbuckled his seatbelt, slowly pushing the car door open. The cool evening air hit his face, making him shiver slightly. He glanced up at the house—his house now, too, he guessed. It still felt weird. Good weird, maybe.Gwen grabbed a couple of the bags from the backseat, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, let’s get inside. You should eat something before you pass out again.”Max rolled his eyes but followed her inside anyway, kicking off his shoes at the entrance. The house smelled like cinnamon, probably from whatever candle Gwen had burning. It felt…warm. Safe.He wasn’t used to that feeling, not yet. ---A few hours later, Gwen knocked on Max’s door before entering, finding him looking at his ultrasound photos, a pink onesie in his lap, and little shoes and socks beside him.Gwen held a small gift behind her back. "Max? I got you a little something." Max looked up.Max raised a brow, shifting slightly as he carefully placed the onesie and ultrasound photos to the side. "What is it?"Gwen stepped closer, pulling the small gift from behind her back. It was wrapped in simple blue paper, a little bow stuck clumsily on top. She handed it to him with a smile. "Go on, open it."Max hesitated for a moment before peeling back the wrapping. Inside was a small, plush bunny—a soft pink color, with long floppy ears and tiny stitched eyes. It was simple, nothing extravagant, but something about it made Max’s throat tighten.Gwen sat beside him on the bed, watching his reaction carefully. "I figured…maybe she’d like something to have from the very start, y'know?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "And if not, maybe you could hold onto it for her until she's big enough."Max stared at the bunny in his hands, running a thumb over the soft fabric. His chest ached in a way he couldn't quite explain. He swallowed thickly before muttering, "Thanks."Gwen nudged his arm playfully. "Don't get all mushy on me now, kid."Max scoffed but didn't let go of the bunny."Oh! And I also got you a phone, and David managed to get Mr. Honeynuts back for you." She handed over the brand new phone and his teddy bear.Max blinked as Gwen placed the phone and Mr. Honeynuts in his lap. He stared at the worn-out teddy bear, his fingers tightening around it. His mind reeled. He thought he'd lost it forever."You—you found him?" His voice was barely above a whisper.Gwen nodded with a small smile. "David found him under your cot in the tent you and Neil used to share. Figured you’d want him back."Max swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the stuffed bear. He had spent so many nights holding onto Mr. Honeynuts like a lifeline, and now, after everything, he was back.Gwen tapped the box in his lap. "And this—well, figured you might want a phone. Y'know, so you can stay connected, call if you need anything."Max looked between the phone and his teddy bear. He didn't realize he was tearing up until Gwen reached over and wiped a stray tear from his cheek."Don't go getting all emotional on me now," she teased, her voice light but kind.Max sniffled and scowled, quickly rubbing his eyes. "Shut up."But he held onto Mr. Honeynuts just a little tighter.Gwen sighed before stepping further into Max’s room. She was standing by the baby’s soft pink cradle.She ran her fingers along the smooth wooden frame, her eyes softening. "David and I put this together last night," Gwen said, glancing at Max. "Figured she’d need a place to sleep when she gets here."Max watched her carefully, still clutching Mr. Honeynuts. The pink cradle looked so… real. This was happening. She was coming. His daughter.Gwen turned back to him with a small smirk. "You know, you’re gonna be a great dad, Max."Max scoffed, looking away. "Yeah, right.""I mean it," Gwen said, sitting down beside him. "You already care about her so much. You’re thinking about everything she’ll need, how to keep her safe… That’s what a good parent does."Max didn’t say anything at first, just stared down at the little onesie in his lap. Then, finally, he whispered, "I just don’t wanna mess up."Gwen nudged him gently. "You won’t be alone, you know. David and I—we’ve got your back. And when she gets here, she’ll have a whole bunch of people who love her."Max swallowed hard, his fingers brushing over the tiny shoes. "Yeah… I hope so.""I barely have two months left... I still don't know what I wanna name her. I mean, I wanna give her a name that'll mean something to her—something that'll make sense for her." Max sunk his fingers across the shoes, feeling the little imprints.Gwen sat down beside him, watching as he traced the tiny shoes with his fingertips. "Well," she said after a moment, "maybe we should start with what kind of meaning you want the name to have. Something strong? Something gentle? Something that reminds you of this journey?"Max sighed, still staring at the baby clothes in his lap. "I don’t know. I just... I want her to have something that belongs to her, y'know? Not just some random name. Something that feels right."Gwen nodded. "Then let's figure it out together. No rush, okay? You’ll know it when it’s the right one." ---"Wanna look at baby names before bed?" Gwen asked, looking at Max.Max hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah… yeah, I think I do."Gwen smiled, grabbing her phone and sitting beside him on the bed. "Alright, let's start with something simple. Do you like more traditional names or something unique?"Max shrugged, still running his fingers over the tiny socks. "I don’t know. Maybe something that means something good. Like... I don’t want her to have a name that feels empty, y’know?"Gwen nodded. "Got it. Something meaningful. Let’s see what we can find." She started scrolling through a list of names, reading a few aloud. "How about Aurora? It means ‘dawn.’ New beginnings and all that."Max tilted his head. "Aurora’s nice... but I don’t know if it fits."Gwen continued scrolling. "What about Naomi? It means ‘pleasant’ or ‘gentle.’"Max thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Mm, maybe, but it doesn’t feel right."Gwen smirked. "Oh, what about Maxine? You could pass down your name."Max shot her a glare. "Absolutely not."Gwen laughed. "Alright, alright. No Maxine." She kept scrolling as the two sat together, the soft glow of the phone screen lighting up the quiet room.Gwen scrolled before stopping. "Lena, means 'light' or 'bright.'" Max nodded. "I like it."Gwen smiled. "Lena it is, then."Max repeated the name under his breath, letting it settle. "Lena…" It felt right—warm, hopeful, something brighter than everything he’d been through.Gwen nudged him playfully. "See? That wasn’t so hard."Max rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Gwen."She ruffled his hair. "Anytime, kiddo. Now, you should get some rest. Lena’s gonna need a well-rested dad."Max’s heart skipped at the word, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced at the tiny socks in his lap once more before carefully setting them aside. "Goodnight, Gwen.""Goodnight, Max." Gwen stood, flipping off the light as she left, leaving Max alone with his thoughts.He whispered the name one more time before sleep took him. "Lena…"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Gwen knocked lightly on Max’s door before peeking inside. "Hey, breakfast is ready," she said, her voice still groggy from sleep. Max didn’t respond right away. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his arms resting over his stomach. Gwen frowned slightly, stepping further into the room. "Max?" Still nothing. It wasn’t until she moved closer that she finally caught the look on his face—his tired, far-off stare, the way his brows were drawn together ever so slightly. He looked…done. Like everything was weighing too much on him at once. "Hey," Gwen said, softer this time. "You okay?" Max blinked a few times before finally turning to look at her. "I’m just tired." His voice was flat, like even talking was too much effort. Gwen hesitated. This was new. Sure, Max had his moods, but since he’d been back, he’d kept a tight lid on his emotions. He’d been sarcastic, stubborn, even a little withdrawn at times—but this? This was different. "You want to talk about it?" she offered, sitting carefully at the edge of his bed. Max sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’m just ready to be done," he muttered. "With this—" he gestured vaguely at himself, "—with feeling like this all the time. I just want her to be here already." Gwen nodded slowly, taking in his words. "Yeah… I get that." Max huffed. "No, you don’t." Gwen gave him a look but didn’t argue. Instead, she just nudged his leg lightly. "Well, at least eat something first. Then you can be moody all you want." Max rolled his eyes but sat up anyway. "Fine. But I’m still gonna be miserable." "Noted," Gwen said, standing up. "C’mon. Food’s getting cold." And for the first time that morning, Max felt a little less heavy. . . Max sat at the small kitchen table, picking at his food with little interest. Gwen sat across from him, watching as he barely touched his toast. "You know," she started, keeping her tone light, "for someone who said he was ready to be done, you sure don’t seem interested in eating." Max shot her a look. "I’m not in the mood, Gwen." Gwen held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, just saying." The silence stretched between them. Gwen tapped her fingers against her coffee mug, debating whether to say something else. Max, meanwhile, just kept pushing his eggs around his plate. Finally, he spoke up. "What if I’m bad at it?" Gwen blinked. "Huh?" "This." Max gestured to his stomach. "Her. Being a parent." His voice was quiet, like he wasn’t sure he even wanted to say it out loud. "What if I mess up? What if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing?" Gwen softened. "Max, no one really knows what they’re doing at first." "Yeah, but normal parents don’t have to start at eleven," Max muttered bitterly. Gwen sighed, pushing her plate aside. "Listen, you’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got me, you’ve got David, and Lena’s gonna have all of us looking out for her." Max was quiet, staring down at his plate. Then, after a long moment, he said, "I just don’t want her to feel like I did growing up." Gwen felt a sting in her chest. "She won’t," she promised. "Because she’s got you. And if there’s one thing I know, Max, it’s that you already care more than most parents ever do." Max didn’t say anything, but something in his expression shifted. A little less tense. A little less lost. Gwen nudged his plate toward him. "Now eat. Can’t have you passing out before she even gets here." Max huffed but took a bite. And even though he still felt tired, still felt like there was a mountain ahead of him—he also felt, just a little bit, like he wasn’t climbing it alone. . "I feel heavy..I'm fat, and I can't explain how much she's stabbing my fucking bladder" Max groaned in his seat. Gwen let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "You're not fat, Max. You're pregnant. There’s a difference." Max shot her a glare before shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, well, tell that to my back. And my feet. And—ugh, everything hurts." He groaned, tilting his head back. "And don’t even get me started on how much she’s stabbing my fucking bladder." Gwen smirked. "Welcome to pregnancy, buddy. You wanted to do this the ‘water thing’ way, remember?" Max huffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, yeah. Still doesn’t make it suck any less." Gwen leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee. "Well, at least you’ve only got a couple months left. Then you’ll be complaining about no sleep instead." Max groaned louder, slumping further into his chair. "Great. Fantastic. Love that for me." Gwen chuckled, nudging his arm. "Hey, at least she’s active. That means she’s healthy." Max softened slightly, resting a hand over his belly. "Yeah… I guess." He sighed. "She better appreciate all this suffering." Gwen grinned. "Oh, she will. And when she’s old enough, I’ll make sure to remind her how much of a pain in the ass she was for you." Max rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk on his lips. "Good." "Help me to the bathroom " Max muttered, Gwen snorted, shaking her head as she stood up. "Yeah, yeah, come on, old man." Max shot her a glare but held out his hands anyway. Gwen took them, helping him up as he groaned dramatically. "God, everything hurts," he muttered, shifting his weight. "I swear, she's trying to kill me from the inside." Gwen smirked. "Well, if it makes you feel better, she’s only got a couple more months to do it." Max shot her a tired look. "Not helping, Gwen." She chuckled, guiding him toward the bathroom. "Alright, alright. No more jokes… for now." A couple hours passed,  of course Max spent those hours sleeping, eating,  whining and watching the shitty rom-coms Gwen put on. Gwen sat on the couch beside him, scrolling through her phone while Max grumbled through a mouthful of crackers. "Why do they always run through an airport? Like, what’s the point?" he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the TV. Gwen smirked. "Because it’s dramatic, Max. It’s called romance." Max scoffed, shifting against the pillows. "Looks more like desperation." Gwen snorted. "Says the kid who literally cried over grilled cheese last week." Max shot her a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he sighed, rubbing his stomach as Lena kicked again. "Ugh, she’s never gonna let me sleep, is she?" Gwen smiled. "Probably not. Welcome to parenthood." Max groaned, shifting to get comfortable, though at this point, comfort was a myth. His back hurt, his feet were swollen, and Lena seemed determined to play soccer with his organs. Gwen noticed his fidgeting and nudged him gently. “You wanna lay back? I can grab some pillows.” Max shook his head. “It won’t help.” “Alright, well… I could rub your back? Or your feet?” Max gave her a deadpan look. “I’d rather die.” Gwen chuckled. “Suit yourself.” She leaned back, watching as Max absentmindedly traced circles over his stomach. “You know, my mom used to tell me that when babies kick a lot, it means they’re gonna be real energetic when they’re born.” Max groaned dramatically. “Great. Just what I need—an annoying hyperactive baby to ruin my sleep even more.” Gwen smirked. “Sounds familiar.” Max threw a pillow at her. Max sighed, shifting again as he tried to find a better position. It was a losing battle. No matter how he sat, lay, or reclined, something ached, whether it was his back, his legs, or his stomach. His body didn’t feel like his own anymore—it belonged to Lena now, and she made sure to remind him every second of the day. He glanced at the screen, where some overly dramatic rom-com couple was arguing in the rain. “This movie sucks,” he muttered. Gwen, sprawled out on the other end of the couch, snorted. “Oh, absolutely. But it’s the perfect kind of bad. Look at ‘em—drenched in rain, screaming about their feelings like idiots. You don’t get that kind of drama in real life.” Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because in real life, people just repress their feelings until they explode or run away.” Gwen gave him a pointed look. “Speaking from experience?” He didn’t answer, just reached for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up higher. The heat of Gwen’s apartment made him drowsy, but Lena’s constant shifting kept him just uncomfortable enough to be aware of everything. His body wasn’t his own. His emotions weren’t his own. And now, he was stuck watching a terrible rom-com with a woman who had somehow become his guardian overnight. “…Hey,” Gwen said after a while, quieter this time. “You okay?” Max shrugged. “Tired. Sore. Same as always.” “You sure?” He gave her an annoyed look, but she didn’t budge. “I mean it, Max. You can talk to me, you know? You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine.” He wanted to snap back with some sarcastic remark, tell her that pretending was the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. But he didn’t have the energy. He sighed instead, resting a hand over his belly where Lena had finally stopped moving. “I just… I don’t know. I feel weird.” Gwen sat up slightly. “Weird how?” He struggled to put it into words. It was like everything was catching up to him all at once. The months in that basement, the terrifying moments of not knowing what would happen to him, the realization that his life would never be the same. He had pushed it all down for so long, just trying to survive, but now, sitting here in this quiet apartment, it was pressing in on him. “I don’t know,” he muttered again. “Just… heavy. Not just ‘cause of Lena, either.” Gwen nodded like she understood. Maybe she did. “It’s a lot,” she said simply. “And you don’t have to figure it all out right now. You just got back, Max. You’re safe now. It’s okay to feel… whatever you’re feeling.” He hated how much those words made his chest tighten. Safe. He was safe. He should feel relieved, right? But all he felt was exhausted. “…Yeah,” he murmured, leaning his head back against the couch. “Okay.” Gwen didn’t push him to say more. She just pressed play on the next awful rom-com and let the night pass in comfortable silence. . . . Max rested his eyes, he realized... today was the last day of the 7th month... AND at the checkup, his midwife: Mrs. Marianne said it's likely Lena would come early... Max cracked one eye open, staring at the ceiling. His mind raced despite how heavy his body felt. Today was the last day of the seventh month. Seven months. That meant— His stomach twisted, and not just from Lena’s constant shifting. At his last checkup, his midwife, Mrs. Marianne, had mentioned it in passing, almost too casually. “She might come early, you know. It’s not uncommon, especially under stress. We should be prepared for that.” Prepared. Right. Max’s fingers curled slightly over his stomach. He wasn’t ready. Hell, he still felt like he was just getting used to the idea of her being real. The little movements, the soft kicks, the way she reacted to his voice—all of it was still sinking in. And now, there was a chance she could be here sooner than expected? His breath hitched, and he sat up a little too fast, making his back ache. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, rubbing his face. Gwen, who had dozed off at the other end of the couch, stirred at the movement. “Mm?” She rubbed her eyes before blinking at him. “Max?” He hesitated before mumbling, “Nothing. Just thinking.” Gwen stretched with a groan. “That’s never good.” She studied him for a second before sitting up. “What’s on your mind?” Max chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s… today’s the last day of month seven.” Gwen blinked, processing that. “Oh.” Then her face shifted into realization. “Oh.” “Yeah.” Silence settled between them for a moment. Gwen ran a hand through her hair before exhaling. “Okay. Look, I know it sounds scary, but it’s just a possibility. She could still come right on time, or even a little late. But even if she does come early, we’re ready, Max. We’ve got a plan. We’ve got doctors. You’re not alone in this.” Max swallowed hard, gripping the blanket over his lap. He wanted to believe that. Gwen reached over and gave his arm a light squeeze. “And if she does decide to show up early, we’ll handle it. Together. Alright?” Max didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the ultrasound pictures on the table, to the little pink onesie he had folded neatly beside them. “…Yeah,” he muttered eventually. “Alright.” But deep down, he still felt that same anxious weight pressing against his ribs. . He spent the rest of his day eating and sleeping. He slept until, well, he woke up. He woke up around, let's say... about 3 o'clock in the morning. I mean, it was just that... it just felt like she was pushing against his bladder, but also... it was like she was... he couldn't explain it. It just burned, and it hurt, and Max didn't know what to do. It was like he couldn't scream. He got up and waddled himself to Gwen's room, knocking on her door, and peeking in to see she was sitting up reading a book on her bed. Gwen looked up, surprised to see Max standing there, his face twisted in discomfort. She immediately set her book aside. "Max? What's wrong?" Max gritted his teeth, one hand pressed against his stomach. “I don’t— I don’t know,” he admitted, voice strained. “It’s like she’s— I mean, she’s moving, but it’s different, and it fucking burns, Gwen.” That got her full attention. She swung her legs over the bed and stood up quickly, crossing the room to him. "Burns how? Like sharp pain? Cramps?" Max winced, shifting his weight. "I don't know. It just— it hurts. And I feel like I have to pee, but when I try, nothing happens. And—” His breath hitched slightly. “It’s bad, Gwen.” She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s not panic yet.” But Gwen could feel her own heart racing. She’d read about this—early labor, potential complications, the signs to watch for. Shit. She guided Max toward the bed, helping him sit. “I think we should call the midwife. Just in case.” Max’s fingers dug into the sheets as another wave of pain hit. He didn’t argue. That alone told Gwen how bad it was. She grabbed her phone with slightly shaky hands, dialing Marianne’s number. Max clenched his jaw, eyes squeezing shut as he gripped his stomach. Something was happening. And whether it was normal or not, Max was officially terrified. When Gwen was on the phone and he felt it, it felt warm. It just drooled down his leg, wet. Oh, God. I mean, Max knew what it meant, but Max wasn't ready. I mean, he knew he had to be prepared, but he wasn't ready. No, no, no, he was supposed to have a month still. This didn't make sense, but it did, and it all just confused him even more. He wasn't ready, but he had to be. He had to be ready for him, no matter how terrified he was. Gwen heard the sharp inhale from Max and turned quickly, still holding the phone to her ear. “Max?” He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at the growing wetness trickling down his leg, his breath shaky and uneven. He knew exactly what this meant. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. Gwen followed his gaze, and her stomach dropped. “Oh— oh shit.” She nearly dropped the phone. “Marianne! His water just broke!” Max’s chest rose and fell quickly, his hands twitching in his lap. “No, no, no— I still had a month, Gwen! This isn’t— this isn’t right! What if she’s not okay? What if—” His voice cracked, eyes darting wildly, panic setting in fast. Gwen forced herself to stay calm, even as her own heart pounded. “Max, listen to me,” she crouched in front of him, gripping his shoulders. “We knew she might come early. That doesn’t mean something’s wrong. But we need to get you to the birthing center, okay?” Max swallowed hard, his breathing still erratic. “But— but I—” “You can do this,” Gwen said firmly, squeezing his shoulders. “And I’ll be with you the whole time. We’re gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay.” Max nodded quickly, even if he didn’t fully believe it yet. His entire body trembled as another wave of pain rolled through him. Gwen got back on the phone. “Marianne, meet us there. We’re heading over now.” Max gritted his teeth, clutching his stomach. He wasn’t ready. Not even close. But ready or not— Lena was coming. Gwen got Max into the car, got a couple of onesie and clothes and baby clothes and a camera..Just for memories Gwen moved quickly, but not so fast that it would freak Max out any more than he already was. She grabbed the hospital bag they’d packed weeks ago—though neither of them expected to need it this soon. A few extra onesies, a couple of blankets, and, at the last second, she grabbed the camera. For memories. Max sat in the passenger seat, his hands gripping his belly, his face tight with nerves. He hadn’t said much since they got in the car. Just breathing, in and out, like Gwen told him to. As she started the car and pulled out of the driveway, she glanced at him. “You doing okay?” Max didn’t answer right away. His fingers clenched around the fabric of his hoodie. “I dunno,” he muttered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling.” Gwen nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. “That’s normal. It’s a lot all at once.” Max let out a shaky breath. Another cramp rolled through him, sharper than before, and he pressed himself back into the seat. “...This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” Gwen didn’t sugarcoat it. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.” Max shut his eyes. “Figures.” Silence filled the car for a moment, aside from the low hum of the radio. Then, barely above a whisper, Max asked, “You think she’s gonna be okay?” Gwen didn’t hesitate. “I know she will be.” Max nodded, gripping his stomach a little tighter as the car sped toward the birthing center. . . Max could barely focus on anything but the pain. It was like a pressure he couldn't escape, building and building with every passing minute. He clenched his fists against the seatbelt, his breath coming in uneven gasps as another wave hit him. Gwen was on the phone with David, her voice urgent but steady. Max couldn't catch all of it—his brain was too fogged with everything happening inside him—but he caught bits and pieces. "—yeah, we're on our way now—no, it's early, but—" she paused, listening, then sighed, "David, just get there, okay?" Another sharp pain ripped through Max, and he let out a choked groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Gwen reached over, giving his arm a quick squeeze before returning both hands to the wheel. "You're doing great, Max. Almost there," she reassured him. Max didn't answer. He couldn't. He barely even registered the way the streetlights blurred past the windows or the way the world outside seemed so normal while everything inside him felt like it was shattering. All he could do was hold on. But... holding on fucking HURTS. Max squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the seat as another wave of pain crashed over him. His body was betraying him, twisting and burning in ways he had never imagined, and all he could do was endure it. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, trying to keep quiet, but it was impossible. A strangled groan tore from his throat, and Gwen shot him a quick glance before refocusing on the road. “I know, Max, I know—just hold on, okay? We’re almost there,” she said, her voice tight, like she was holding back her own panic. But holding on wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. Holding on hurt. Holding on felt like his body was ripping apart. His legs trembled as he shifted in his seat, desperate for any kind of relief, but there was none. Only the burning, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation that something too big was trying to force its way out of him. “I can’t—” Max choked out, barely recognizing his own voice. “Yes, you can,” Gwen said, firmer now. “Just breathe, Max. We’re almost there.” But every breath felt like a battle. Every second felt like an eternity. And Max—Max didn’t know if he could do this. But he had to. Max barely registered the cold night air as Gwen helped him out of the passenger seat, his body practically folding into the wheelchair. His head felt foggy—like everything was happening around him, not to him. The burning pressure between his legs was all he could really focus on, and it was getting worse—so much worse. He peeked back, eyes half-lidded and glassy. David stood just a few feet away, still catching his breath from rushing to meet them. He looked like he'd rolled straight out of bed—his hair messy, shirt wrinkled—but his eyes were wide, flicking between Max and Gwen like he didn't know what to do. Gwen was biting her lip, hands gripping the wheelchair handles tighter than necessary, trying so hard to look calm—but Max knew better. He let out a strained breath, sweat sticking to his forehead. "You—" He winced as another wave of pain slammed into him, cutting him off. "You look like shit." David blinked before letting out a small, breathless laugh. "You're one to talk, Max." Max grunted, leaning further into the chair, his hand pressing hard against his stomach. His breathing quickened, panic threatening to claw its way up his throat. Gwen squeezed his shoulder, leaning down so only he could hear. "I know you're scared... but you gotta trust me, Max. We're here. You're safe. We're gonna get through this." Max's eyes flicked toward her, glassy and scared, before squeezing shut again. His breath caught in his throat as another sharp pain burned through him. He couldn't speak—he could barely breathe. All he could do was nod. And trust that they were right. The nurses exchanged glances, their movements quick and efficient as they wheeled Max through the hospital corridors. The bright overhead lights made him squint, the sharp white walls blurring as another contraction tore through him. He could barely catch his breath, but he forced himself to speak through gritted teeth. "I can—I can still do the—water? Please?" His voice was strained, desperate, as he looked at the nearest nurse, pleading through the pain. One of them, a woman with kind eyes and a firm but gentle grip on the wheelchair, nodded. "You're early, but if everything checks out, we’ll set you up for a water birth. Just hold on for me, sweetheart, okay?" Max barely had the strength to nod, but he did, exhaling shakily. He needed this. The water, the calm, something that felt like it was still in his control. "You're doing good, Max," Gwen reassured from beside him, walking in step with the nurses. "Just a little longer, okay?" Max didn’t answer—he couldn’t. The pain kept stealing his words. But as they rounded a corner toward the birthing suite, he held onto those words like a lifeline. Just a little longer.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"That Funny Little Girl" - Jude York. . . The birthing suite was quiet except for the steady bubbling of the warm water filling the tub and the occasional rustling of nurses moving around, preparing everything. But for Max, everything felt too loud. His breathing, the pounding in his head, the rush of pain with every contraction—it all drowned out the voices around him. Gwen knelt beside him, gripping his hand tightly as he clutched the side of the tub. "You're okay, Max. You're okay." "I know," Max snapped, but his voice shook. He was trying—God, he was trying so hard—but everything hurt, and he felt like he was slipping, like the water wasn’t enough to ground him. David hovered nearby, watching with wide, concerned eyes, clearly out of his element but wanting to help. "You're doing amazing, bud. Just keep breathing, alright?" "Breathing?" Max let out a strained laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. "Oh, yeah, David, great advice—I'll just breathe the baby out, no problem." Gwen squeezed his hand. "You're allowed to be mad, Max. But I promise you, you can do this." Max wanted to argue, to say no, I can’t, I can’t, I’m not ready—but he didn’t have time. A sharp pressure built in his lower abdomen, worse than before, and suddenly, he felt everything shift. The midwife looked up from where she was monitoring him. "Okay, Max, that was a big one. I need you to listen to me now. She's ready." Max's breath hitched. No. No, no, no, she wasn't ready. He wasn't ready. But then another contraction hit, and he had no choice. Gwen wiped sweat from his forehead. "You've got this, Max. I know you do." And somehow, through the pain, the fear, the everything—Max pushed. "That funny little girl." Max laughed to himself Gwen looked at him, brows furrowed. "What?" Max let out a breathless laugh, gripping the side of the tub as another wave of pressure built inside him. His face was flushed, exhausted, but there was a strange sort of fondness in his voice. "That funny little girl," he murmured again, more to himself than anyone else. His lips curled into a small, tired smile. "She’s stubborn. She’s really stubborn." Gwen huffed out a soft laugh. "Gee, I wonder where she gets that from." David, who had been watching nervously from the side, finally smiled. "Yeah, I don’t think that’s a mystery, Max." Max rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest didn’t fade. Even through the exhaustion, through the pain, through the sheer overwhelming weight of everything—he could feel her. He could feel Lena. And she was ready. "Alright, Max," the midwife said gently, her voice cutting through the haze. "Next push, we’re gonna meet her, okay?" Max’s breath hitched. His grip on Gwen’s hand tightened. This was it. With one last deep breath, he braced himself— And pushed. . Max screamed. It was raw, guttural—pain and effort twisting together into something unrecognizable. His whole body tensed, his nails digging into Gwen’s arm so hard she swore she’d have bruises later, but she didn’t care. "You’re almost there, Max!" the midwife urged. "Just a little more!" Max barely heard her. His head was spinning, his chest tight, his entire body on fire. Every muscle screamed at him to stop, to give in, to quit—but he couldn’t. Because she was almost here. Because he had to meet her. "Max, you’re doing so good," Gwen said beside him, voice tight with emotion. "She’s almost here. Just one more—one more push, okay?" Max sucked in a shaky breath. His vision blurred. His entire body trembled. And then— A cry. A tiny, piercing cry filled the air. Max’s whole world stopped. His chest heaved, his mind blank, the agony melting into nothing but pure, overwhelming relief. And then someone—maybe the midwife, maybe Gwen, maybe an angel for all he knew—was placing something warm and small and fragile onto his chest. Max stared down at her. His daughter. His Lena. Pink. Wrinkly. Squirming. Real. Tears welled up in his eyes before he could stop them. His fingers trembled as he touched her, tracing the tiny hand curled against his skin. She let out another small wail, kicking her little feet, and Max let out a choked laugh. "Hey," he whispered, voice thick, barely holding himself together. "Hey, funny little girl..." Max took in every detail of her, his breath catching in his throat. She was lighter than him, her skin a warm shade—like the color of Mr. Honeynuts. That thought almost made him laugh. She had these hazel-greenish eyes, big and round as they blinked up at him, unfocused but curious, as if she was already trying to understand the world she had just entered. And her hair—thin, soft, barely there yet—but there was a flick of brown in it, just enough to tell him it would darken over time. Max swallowed hard. His chest felt too tight, too full. She was real. And she was his. He glanced up, finding Gwen wiping at her eyes, her expression filled with something he couldn’t quite place. Pride? Relief? Maybe a little bit of everything. "You did it, Max," she whispered. Max looked back down at Lena. His daughter. A shaky, tired smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah," he murmured, voice hoarse. "I did." Max couldn't help it—he just kept saying her name, over and over, like he was trying to make it real. "Lena, Lena, Lena," he murmured between soft kisses on her tiny forehead, her chubby cheeks, her little button nose. Each touch was light, careful, filled with something Max couldn’t even name. David and Gwen stood nearby, watching in silence. They didn’t say a word, but the way they exchanged a glance spoke volumes. It wasn’t just admiration—it was awe. Because for the first time since they'd met him, Max looked... at peace. Even after everything, after all the pain, the fear, the anger—this moment? This was pure. This was love. Max held Lena close, his arms wrapped securely around her tiny body as if he were afraid she’d disappear. His voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You're mine, mine, all mine," he sniffled, tears slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away—he didn’t care. Lena let out the softest little sound, shifting slightly in his arms, and Max swore his heart nearly burst. She was real. She was his. David and Gwen remained quiet, letting Max have this moment. They had seen him angry, guarded, sarcastic—but this? This was different. This was raw. This was Max finally allowing himself to feel. And for once, the world felt right. . . . Max held Lena close, his arms wrapped securely around her tiny body as if he were afraid she’d disappear. His voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You're mine, mine, all mine," he sniffled, tears slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away—he didn’t care. Lena let out the softest little sound, shifting slightly in his arms, and Max swore his heart nearly burst. She was real. She was his. David and Gwen remained quiet, letting Max have this moment. They had seen him angry, guarded, sarcastic—but this? This was different. This was raw. This was Max finally allowing himself to feel. And for once, the world felt right. . . . When Max finally stirred awake, the first thing he noticed was the weight of something warm and familiar on his chest. Blinking groggily, he looked down—Lena, nestled against him, wrapped in the hospital’s soft blankets. Her tiny face was relaxed, her little fingers curled into a loose fist near his collarbone. He hadn't even realized he’d fallen asleep holding her. Gwen was sitting nearby, scrolling on her phone, while David stood by the window, looking half-asleep himself. When Gwen noticed Max moving, she perked up. "Hey, sleeping beauty," she teased lightly. "You were out for almost a full day. Not that I blame you." Max groaned, rubbing his eyes with one hand while keeping the other firmly around Lena. "I didn't mean to pass out like that." His voice was hoarse, his body still exhausted. "Well, you did just give birth, so, y'know, I think you're allowed a little extra sleep." Gwen smirked before her expression softened. "How are you feeling?" Max took a moment to really check in with himself. He was sore—God, was he sore—but it was a different kind of exhaustion. Not the kind that weighed him down, but the kind that came after something big. Something life-changing. "I'm... okay," he muttered. His free hand gently traced over Lena's back. "She's okay, right?" David spoke up, his voice unusually gentle. "Yeah. Doctors said she’s doing great. She’s small, but strong. Just like you." Max scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. He looked down at Lena again, watching her tiny chest rise and fall. She was strong. She made it here, even when she wasn’t supposed to yet. And now she was here, with him. A part of him still couldn’t believe it. Gwen leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. "You know, we can still stay here for a couple more days. Just to make sure everything’s good before heading home." Home. That word felt weird now. Home wasn’t just his anymore. It was theirs. Max swallowed thickly. "Yeah... Yeah, okay." For now, he just wanted to stay right here, holding Lena close, letting himself breathe. Because for the first time in forever, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living, he was living with her. . . . Max, Gwen, David, and Lena were in the hospital room together—resting, breathing, watching television, catching up on news and books. The atmosphere was peaceful, the kind of calm that only came after something life-changing. Lena, swaddled in soft pink blankets, lay nestled against Max’s chest, her tiny breaths syncing with his own. Gwen was curled up in the chair next to the hospital bed, flipping lazily through a book, while David sat on the couch, quietly watching the news. Then David’s phone rang. The sudden noise cut through the quiet, making Max flinch slightly. David pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His expression shifted. "Who is it?" Max mumbled, still groggy from exhaustion but alert enough to notice David’s change in demeanor. David hesitated, then answered, "Detective Harris." At that, the air in the room changed. Max tensed immediately, his grip on Lena tightening ever so slightly. Gwen noticed and reached over to rest a reassuring hand on his knee, her own face unreadable but concerned. David swiped to accept the call. "Hello?" The detective’s voice came through the speaker, firm but measured. "David, I wanted to update you all on the case. We’ve made some progress. We need to talk." David exchanged a look with Gwen before glancing at Max, whose jaw was clenched. He was bracing himself, expecting the worst. "Can you tell me anything now?" David asked carefully. There was a pause on the other end before Harris replied, "Not over the phone. I’d prefer to do this in person. Are you all still at the hospital?" "Yes but you won't be allowed in the room, me and Gwen can meet you outside" David Looked over at Gwen and Max Gwen gave a small nod, already setting her book aside, while Max just stared ahead, silent. He wasn’t sure how to feel—he wanted answers, but he also didn’t want to hear anything that would ruin this moment. He had Lena now. He was supposed to just be happy, right? David turned his attention back to the phone. "Alright, we’ll meet you outside in a few minutes." "Understood. I’ll be there." The detective hung up. David sighed, running a hand through his hair before standing up. Gwen followed suit, stretching slightly before grabbing her jacket. She looked at Max, hesitating for a moment. "You gonna be okay here?" she asked softly. Max didn’t answer right away. He looked down at Lena, still sleeping peacefully against him. She didn’t know anything about the world yet—didn’t know how messed up everything was outside of this hospital room. "Yeah," he finally muttered. "I’ll be fine." Gwen gave him a look, like she wanted to say something else, but instead, she just nodded. "We won’t be long." With that, she and David stepped out of the room, leaving Max alone with his daughter. Only 25 minutes passed before they came back. David and Gwen were Smiling so hard it kinda freaked Max out. "What?" "They got him, William,  they found him!" Gwen smiled. Max's eyes widened. "How?" “They tracked his movements from that cabin you mentioned. Turns out, he wasn’t as careful as he thought,” David explained, his voice filled with relief. Gwen sat on the edge of Max’s bed, practically bouncing with excitement. “They caught him trying to leave town. Guess he got nervous once the cops found those kids.” Max blinked, his brain working overtime to process the information. “So… he’s actually caught? Like, for real?” David nodded. “For real. He’s in custody now. And with all the evidence they have—your testimony, the cabin, the kids they rescued—he’s not getting out of this.” Max felt something heavy lift off his chest. He had spent so much time looking over his shoulder, waiting for the worst to happen. And now… it was over. He looked down at Lena, still sleeping soundly against him. She didn’t have to grow up in fear. He swallowed hard before muttering, “Good.” "But.." David started,  "what?" Max patted Lena’s back softly. "He's refused to talk unless he see you.." Max sighed "Of course he does," Max muttered, rolling his eyes. He kept patting Lena’s back, focusing on her tiny breaths, grounding himself. Gwen scoffed. "Max, you don't have to do this. You just had a baby. You should be resting, not dealing with him." Max exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yeah, well… if seeing me is what it takes to keep his ass locked up for good, then I’ll do it." David frowned. "Are you sure? You don’t have to prove anything. He doesn’t have power over you anymore." Max glanced at Lena, then back at David. "I know that," he said firmly. "But if he wants to talk, fine. I wanna see him too."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max sat in the hospital bed, Lena curled up against his chest. It had been a long night, and even though he got some sleep, it wasn’t enough. His body was still sore, his mind still foggy, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the tiny girl in his arms, breathing softly, completely unaware of everything happening around her. Lena Lunia. She was here. She was real. And she was his. Max traced a careful finger along her tiny hand, watching as her fingers flexed in response. He still couldn’t believe it. Gwen sat across from him, scrolling through something on her phone while David paced near the window, arms crossed. The room was calm, but there was an undercurrent of tension, lingering from their conversation last night. William. They had him. He was finally caught. But now he wanted to see Max. Max didn’t know how to feel about that. “Did you sleep at all?” Gwen asked, breaking the silence. Max blinked up at her. “I mean, yeah, kinda.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.” Max just shrugged. David sighed, finally stopping his pacing. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it right now, but the detective said they’d wait for your decision. No pressure.” Max knew that was a lie. There was pressure. There was always pressure. But for now, he pushed it aside. “I just want to focus on her right now,” Max muttered, adjusting Lena’s blanket. Gwen softened. “Yeah. That makes sense.” Silence settled again. A peaceful one this time. Max let out a slow breath. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but right now, he had Lena. Max needed to pee.. “David, come put her in her bed plea- please?” Max squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see David's stupid ass smile. “Gwen?” Gwen looked up, “yeah?” “Help me to the bathroom please” David carefully took Lena from Max’s arms, cradling her with practiced ease before placing her gently back in her hospital crib. She barely stirred, only shifting slightly in her sleep. Max watched her for a moment longer, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Gwen stepped forward, offering her arm. “C’mon, let’s get you to the bathroom.” Max exhaled sharply, bracing himself as he swung his legs over the bed. His body still ached, exhaustion weighing on him like bricks. Gwen kept a firm but gentle grip on him as he stood up, steadying him when his knees wobbled slightly. “I got you,” she reassured. Max rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, letting her guide him across the room. The walk wasn’t long, but every step reminded him of how much his body had been through. He was so ready to just sit in a normal chair, sleep in a normal bed, and not be poked and prodded every few hours. When they finally made it, Gwen lingered at the door. “You good?” Max nodded, gripping the sink for support. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” “Alright. I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Max alone with his thoughts. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, dark circles heavy under his eyes. His curls were messy, sticking up in all directions. He barely recognized himself. He turned on the sink, letting the cold water run over his hands. They got William. He wants to see me. Max gritted his teeth. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Gwen was waiting right outside the door when Max stepped out, still looking a little unsteady but determined. She helped him back toward the bed, where David was still sitting beside Lena’s crib, gently rocking it back and forth. Max settled back into the bed, exhaling deeply before glancing between them. His fingers drummed lightly against the blanket, hesitating before he finally asked, “Can I, like… have a week? Before I go talk to William?” Gwen and David exchanged a quick look. It wasn’t one of disagreement, just silent communication—checking in with each other before responding. David was the one to answer. “Yeah, Max. You can take as much time as you need.” Gwen nodded. “They’re not gonna force you to see him right away. You just gave birth. You need to rest, to focus on Lena.” Max swallowed, nodding slowly. He did need time. Time to adjust, time to process, time to just be with his daughter without the weight of William looming over him. “Okay,” he murmured. “Thanks.” David smiled, reaching over to ruffle Max’s curls. “Of course, dude.” Max groaned, swatting his hand away, but there was no real heat behind it. For the first time in a while, he felt like he could actually breathe. Max let his head fall back against the pillow, exhaling sharply. He glanced over at Lena, still peacefully asleep in her hospital crib, tiny and perfect. “So… when can we take her home?” Gwen crossed her arms, leaning against the chair beside him. “Whenever they’re done running tests.” Max frowned slightly. “Are they running the tests on me or her?” David sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You,” he clarified. “Just to make sure you’re fully capable of functioning without issues. Except for, y’know, healing.” Max nodded slowly, absorbing that information. He figured as much—he did just go through hell and back, after all. But as long as Lena was okay, as long as she was healthy, that was all that mattered to him. The doctor entered with a light knock on the door, clipboard in hand. “Good to see you awake, Max,” she greeted with a small smile before glancing over at Lena. “And I see she’s doing just fine.” Max straightened up slightly, rubbing his face. “Yeah… she’s perfect,” he mumbled, watching the tiny rise and fall of Lena’s chest as she slept. The doctor nodded before flipping through the papers on her clipboard. “Alright, so we’ve run all the necessary tests on you, Max. Physically, you’re recovering well, though you’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. Emotionally… well, given everything, it’s understandable if you’re feeling overwhelmed.” Max huffed, shifting in bed. “I’ll be fine.” The doctor gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. “As for Lena, all her vitals are great. We just want to monitor her for a little longer since she was born early, but if all goes well, you both should be able to go home in a few days.” Max felt his body relax at that. A few days. He could handle that. He just wanted to be somewhere that wasn’t a hospital room. Someplace quiet, someplace safe. Someplace where Lena could start her life without all this chaos hanging over them. Gwen, sitting beside him, smiled. “That’s great news.” Max nodded, glancing back at Lena. “Yeah… yeah, it is.” . . . The moment they stepped through the door, Lena’s cries filled the small home, bouncing off the walls in a way that made Max’s already frayed nerves even worse. His body ached from the movement, the stitches still healing, and exhaustion clung to him like a heavy weight. David was talking—about what, Max wasn’t entirely sure. Something about how babies take time to adjust, how lack of sleep was normal, how this was all part of the process—but Max barely registered any of it. Gwen, on the other hand, was already moving around the house, setting things up, checking the bottles, making sure the crib was just right, and making soft cooing noises at Lena as she fussed. And it pissed him off. It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate the help. He did. But every time Gwen reached for Lena before he could, every time she shushed her or adjusted the blanket or made a bottle, it felt like she was saying he couldn’t do it. Like she was taking over. Like she was replacing him before he even had a chance to try. Max clenched his jaw, shifting Lena in his arms even though it did little to calm her down. The pain in his body mixed with the frustration bubbling up inside of him, and suddenly, it felt like everything was too much. He wasn’t just tired—he was done. Max carried Lena back to his room laying her in her crib. Gently patting her swaddled belly. Max watched her for a moment, her tiny chest rising and falling with each fussy breath. Her little lips trembled like she wanted to keep crying, but the gentle pats to her belly seemed to soothe her—at least for now. He let out a slow breath, his body sinking into the mattress. His muscles ached, his stitches pulled, and his mind wouldn’t shut up. I’m her dad. I should be the one taking care of her. Not Gwen. Not David. Me. But the exhaustion hit harder than his frustration. His eyes felt heavy, the weight of everything settling onto his chest. His hand stayed resting on Lena’s crib as if making sure she was still there, still real. Her cries had quieted to soft whimpers. Max sighed. Just a few minutes. Just some kind of rest. Max clenched his fists against his blanket, squeezing his eyes shut as Lena’s cries pierced through the room again. His chest tightened, frustration bubbling up hot and fast. Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I just get it right? He wanted it to be just him and her. He wanted to be enough. But here he was, barely able to keep his own eyes open, let alone soothe her the way she needed. His body ached, his head pounded, and the overwhelming weight of it all made his throat close up. His breath hitched. He wasn’t going to cry—he refused to cry. But the lump in his throat wouldn't go away, and his eyes burned, and— Lena’s wails got louder. Max choked on a sob, covering his face with his hands. He wasn’t upset with her, never her. But the exhaustion, the helplessness, the feeling of being a failure before he even really got started—it was all too much. He couldn’t do this alone. But asking for help felt just as painful. Lena’s cries only seemed to grow more urgent, her tiny body wriggling against Max’s chest. He tried to steady his breathing, blinking rapidly to push back his own tears. “What’s— hic—wrong, baby? I—I need to k-know,” Max murmured, his voice trembling as he held her close, swaying gently. His arms felt weak, his legs unsteady, but he forced himself to keep moving, rubbing small circles into her back. His heart pounded, his mind racing with a million thoughts. Is she hungry? Does she need a diaper change? Is she too hot? Too cold? He wanted to be the one to figure it out. He wanted to be the one to calm her. But his exhaustion blurred everything together, and Lena’s cries only made his own panic worse. A soft knock on the door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. “Max?” It was Gwen, her voice hesitant, cautious. “Do you… need help?” Max’s jaw clenched. He should say no. He should be able to do this. But his body was betraying him, shaking with exhaustion and stress. He swallowed hard, looking down at Lena’s scrunched-up face, then back at Gwen standing in the doorway. He hated this. But he also couldn’t do it alone. Max exhaled shakily. “…Yeah.” . . . Max blinked down at Lena, his hands still trembling slightly as Gwen guided him through fastening the fresh diaper. She was calmer now, her tiny fists curled near her face as soft little hiccups escaped her. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until his shoulders slumped in relief. He sniffled, rubbing at the dry tear tracks on his cheeks. “How did you know?” Gwen shrugged, offering him a small, knowing smile. “I’m a camp counselor, I’m the oldest sibling, and I work in an art studio that’s connected to a daycare. I know a thing or two.” Max looked up at her, searching her face for any hint of judgment. But there was none—just understanding. “And—” she continued, her voice softer now, “—I’ll help you know a thing or two.” Max swallowed hard. He didn’t want to admit how much that meant to him. Instead, he just looked back down at Lena, brushing a careful thumb across her soft little cheek. “…Yeah. Okay.”. . As Gwen taught Max the basic ropes of learning HIS baby. David entered quietly, silently taking pictures. Once he finished,  he put his phone in his back pocket and he sat on Max's bed. Making himself known, not that Max actually looked or acknowledged him, but Gwen did. Gwen glanced over at David, raising an eyebrow at his quiet intrusion. She had caught the faint sound of his camera clicking, but Max was too focused on Lena to notice. David tucked his phone away and settled onto the edge of Max’s bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He didn’t say anything at first, just watching as Gwen helped Max adjust Lena’s swaddle properly. “Y’know,” David finally spoke up, his voice gentle, “you’re doing a good job, Max.” Max didn’t look up, but his hands briefly hesitated before he continued smoothing out the blanket around Lena. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. Gwen shot David a quick look before turning back to Max. “He’s right, you know. You’re doing fine.” Max huffed, finally glancing up at David. “You got enough pictures for your weird little scrapbook yet?” David grinned. “No such thing as enough.” Max rolled his eyes but didn’t push it further. Instead, he just looked back at Lena, his fingers brushing over her tiny hand. “…Whatever,” he mumbled. David and Gwen exchanged a glance but let the moment settle. Max might not say it, but they knew—deep down—he was taking it in. Good. . . . “She’s finally asleep, huh?” David took a sip of his wine, glancing toward Max’s closed bedroom door. “Yeah,” Gwen sighed, swirling the drink in her glass. “Took a while, but he’s getting the hang of it.” David smiled. “He’s doing better than he thinks.” Gwen snorted. “Try telling him that.” They both chuckled, letting the background noise of the rom-com fill the quiet. The dim glow of the TV cast soft shadows across the living room, making the space feel smaller, cozier. “You ever think about it?” David asked suddenly, his voice softer now. Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Think about what?” “Y’know… having kids.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Not that I—uh, I mean, just in general.” Gwen smirked. “Is this you trying to make a move, David?” “What? No!” His face turned red, making her laugh. “I’m messing with you,” she said, taking another sip. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, I guess. But watching Max go through this? Kinda makes me rethink the whole ‘having a newborn’ thing.” David nodded, glancing at the hallway again. “Yeah… but still. He’s got us. He’s not alone in this.” Gwen’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “No, he’s not.” They sat in silence for a moment, just sipping their drinks and listening to the TV. Outside, crickets chirped, the night calm and still. “For what it’s worth,” Gwen added, “I think you’d be a good dad.” David blinked, looking over at her, startled. Then, slowly, he smiled. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” she shrugged. “But don’t let it go to your head.” He laughed, raising his glass. “Noted.” They clinked their glasses together, settling back into the quiet comfort of the night. Gwen smirked as she swirled her wine. “You know, David, for a guy who wears cargo shorts year-round, you’re not the worst person to drink with.” David scoffed, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. “Wow, Gwen, such high praise. Should I write that on my resume?” Gwen chuckled, taking another sip. “Might help you land a job in something other than ‘professional camp counselor.’” David leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I’ll have you know that being a camp counselor takes skill, patience, and an exceptional amount of emotional intelligence.” Gwen snorted. “Oh yeah? Is that why the kids run circles around you every summer?” “Hey, I let them think they do! It’s all part of the plan,” David argued, waving his hand dramatically, almost spilling his wine. “I have everything under control.” Gwen leaned closer, her smirk widening. “Oh, you let them think they’re in charge? That’s cute, David. Really.” David squinted at her, setting his glass down. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” Gwen gasped in mock offense. “Me? Mock you? I would never.” David rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at his lips. There was something about the way the wine made Gwen’s voice just a little smoother, her sarcasm a little softer. “You know,” he said, tilting his head, “for someone who acts like she’s got it all figured out, you’re surprisingly bad at hiding when you’re having fun.” Gwen’s lips parted slightly before she quickly covered it up with another sip of wine. “Shut up, David.” David chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “Make me.” Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Careful, I might.” The air between them shifted, something playful turning into something else—something more charged. Gwen blinked at him, the haze of alcohol making his expression harder to read. “…Are we flirting?” David asked suddenly, furrowing his brows. Gwen stared at him for a beat before bursting into laughter. “God, I hope not.” David laughed too, shaking his head. “Yeah, no, bad idea. Terrible.” “The worst,” Gwen agreed, still smirking. "Yeah... the worst idea ever," Gwen muttered, but even as she said it, she shuffled closer to David, her knee brushing against his. "Mhm, yeah, agreed," David murmured, but his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her in until their noses nearly touched. They stared at each other, eyes half-lidded, the warmth of alcohol and something else making the space between them feel almost nonexistent. Gwen smirked, her breath fanning against his lips. Then, with no more hesitation, she closed the distance, pressing their lips together. David didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed her back, his hands tightening just slightly around her waist. It was stupid. It was impulsive. But neither of them seemed to care. . They couldn’t stop. What started as a hesitant kiss quickly deepened, hands moving, pulling, gripping. The heat between them was undeniable, fueled by exhaustion, relief, and the haze of wine. Gwen's fingers found their way into David’s hair, tugging slightly as he leaned into her. His hands ran up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before settling at the small of her back. The TV played on, forgotten. The room was dim, the only real light coming from the screen’s soft glow. Their breathing grew heavier, mixing with the quiet hum of the movie still rolling in the background. It should have stopped. It should have been just a moment, just an accident. But neither of them seemed willing—or able—to pull away. Well...until they heard a gasp. They froze. A sharp, unmistakable gasp cut through the quiet room like a knife. Slowly, they turned their heads toward the hallway. Max stood there, holding Lena against his chest, eyes wide with pure disbelief. His expression was unreadable—was it shock? Disgust? Betrayal? Neither Gwen nor David moved. The air in the room was thick, suffocating. Max blinked once. Then twice. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he finally muttered. "Max-" Gwen started, Max stared belly laughing "I fucking knew it" Max smiled as he laughed. Gwen and David exchanged a look, completely dumbfounded by Max’s reaction. Max wiped a stray tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I knew it. You guys are so obvious, it’s embarrassing.” David cleared his throat, straightening up. “Uh, well—” “Nope, nope, don’t even try to explain,” Max cut him off, rocking Lena slightly as she stirred. “I don’t need to hear it. Just… wow. You two really thought you were being subtle, huh?” Gwen groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God.” David scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. “So, uh… you’re not mad?” Max scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would I be mad? This is, like, the least surprising thing to happen all week.” He shook his head, turning back toward his room. “Just… keep it down, will you? Lena and I would like to sleep without hearing whatever weird rom-com crap you two have going on.” As Max disappeared down the hall, David and Gwen sat in stunned silence. “Well,” Gwen finally muttered, sipping her wine. “That could’ve gone worse.” David let out a deep breath. “Yeah… I think we got lucky.” The two laughed before calling it a night.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Max rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed, sighing before standing. His body wobbled slightly, still sore from everything, but he steadied himself quickly. He moved toward Lena’s crib, peeking in at her. Still there. Still sleeping. Still perfect. Her tiny face was scrunched up in a pout, just like he’d been told he used to do as a baby. Thank God she got his resting bitch face. He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before making his way to the bathroom. On his way there, he spotted Gwen and David, knocked out on the couch, tangled under a blanket. He blinked, remembering what he walked in on last night. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to himself, confirming what he already knew. After showering, brushing his teeth, and doing his business, Max felt a little more like a human being again—though the exhaustion, the soreness, and the ever-present stress weren’t going anywhere. Still, he made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. As he sat at the table, spoon clinking against the bowl, Gwen stirred from the couch. "Mm… Max?" she mumbled, sitting up groggily. "What time is it?" Max didn’t even look at her. "How the hell should I know?" David groaned as he stretched beside her. "Why’re you awake so early?" Max gave them both an unimpressed look. "Newborn. Ring a bell?" Gwen blinked, rubbing her face. "Right. Parenthood." Max scoffed, stabbing his spoon into his cereal. "Yeah, welcome to my life now. Meanwhile, you two get to live your dumb little rom-com fantasy while I survive on two hours of sleep and pure instinct." David ran a hand through his hair, still waking up. "You do have help, you know. You don’t have to do it all alone." Max didn’t respond right away, just chewed his food and stared at them. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I know." Gwen smirked, pushing herself up and walking over to ruffle his hair. "And you're doing great, by the way." Max swatted her hand away with a grumble, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. Just a little. "David?" Max asked,  "Yeah?" David stood up stretching, "if you're here..who at camp?" "Oh, the other counselor, and Mr. Campbell came back to help them." David scratched his back. "Not like he actually helps" Gwen groaned. Max rolled his eyes, taking another bite of his cereal. "Figures. That guy’s about as useful as a wet paper towel." David let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, he did technically start the camp, so… he’s got some experience." Gwen scoffed, grabbing a cup of coffee. "Yeah, experience in what? Tax fraud? Avoiding responsibility? Being a total creep?" David sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. "Look, I didn’t say he was good at helping, just that he’s there." Max stared at him blankly. "So, in other words, the camp is on fire as we speak." David groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I hope not." Gwen smirked over her coffee. "Well, if it is, at least you’re not the one dealing with it for once." David let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back onto the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I should enjoy the break while I can." Max shook his head, finishing his cereal. "Man, I’ve got a screaming newborn, a body that still feels like it got hit by a truck, and a severe lack of sleep. I’d trade for a camp full of hyper kids right now." Gwen and David both turned to him with matching Are you serious? expressions. Max blinked. "Okay, maybe not. But still." And just as Max said that, a cry rang out through the home... Max groaned, setting his bowl down with a thud. "Speak of the devil." He pushed himself up, wincing slightly as he stood. Gwen chuckled, taking another sip of her coffee. "And here I thought you wanted a break from her." "I never said that." Max muttered as he waddled toward Lena’s crib. The cries got louder as he neared, and he could already feel the exhaustion creeping in. He carefully scooped her up, swaying slightly. "Alright, alright, baby girl, I got you." David peeked over from the couch. "Need help?" Max shook his head, bouncing Lena gently. "Nah, I got it. Probably just hungry… or needs a change… or both." Gwen smirked. "Ah, the joys of parenting." "Bite me." Max grumbled, making his way toward the kitchen to fix a bottle. . Max finished the bottle and fed Lena, gently rocking her back to sleep. As Lena’s cries faded into soft suckling sounds, Max let out a slow breath. He glanced down at her, watching her tiny hands curl against his chest. Her hazel-green eyes, still adjusting to the world, blinked sleepily up at him before finally shutting. Max ran a hand through his messy curls. "Finally..." he muttered, shifting slightly to get more comfortable in the rocking chair Gwen had set up in the corner. David, now fully awake, leaned against the doorway. "You're getting the hang of it." Max scoffed. "Barely. She still cries half the time, and I have no clue what the hell she wants." Gwen joined them, stretching. "You're doing fine, Max. You’re learning." Max looked down at Lena, now peacefully dozing in his arms. His voice softened. "Yeah… guess I am." . . Max rocked Lena gently, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the soft fabric of her onesie. The room was quiet, except for the occasional shifting of Gwen or David on the couch. He noticed how close they were sitting—closer than usual. It wasn’t obvious, but to Max, who had spent years observing people, it was clear as day. Gwen’s knee barely touched David’s, and every now and then, David’s arm would brush against hers. Max smirked slightly but said nothing. Lena let out a small sigh in her sleep, her tiny fingers gripping onto the fabric of Max’s shirt. He glanced down at her, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. “So…” Max finally broke the silence. “Are you guys just gonna pretend nothing happened last night, or…?” Gwen’s head snapped toward him, and David stiffened. “What—” Gwen started, but Max cut her off with a knowing grin. “I mean, I’m not blind.” He raised a brow, adjusting Lena in his arms. “And I was the one who caught you two making out, soooo…” Gwen groaned, covering her face with her hands. David rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. Max smirked wider. “Y’all are so obvious.” "And I thought you didn't like him," Max laughed, bouncing Lena slightly in his arms. Gwen groaned louder, dragging her hands down her face. "Max, please shut up." David, on the other hand, just grinned. "Hey, I grow on people." "Like a fungus," Max snorted. David gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Wow. After everything I've done for you?" "You literally just sat on my couch while Gwen did all the work," Max deadpanned, rocking Lena as she let out a tiny sigh. Gwen pointed at Max. "Exactly! Thank you!" David huffed. "Okay, okay, but back to the original topic—Gwen totally likes me." He smirked, leaning back against the couch. Max smirked right back, looking at Gwen expectantly. "Sooo…?" Gwen crossed her arms, trying to look unbothered. "I tolerate him." David scoffed. "You kissed me." Max burst out laughing again. "Oh my God, this is better than TV." Lena looked around, smiling and reaching up on Max’s shirt Max looked down at Lena, her tiny fingers grasping at his shirt, her little face lighting up with a toothless smile. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest. "What?" he chuckled, shifting her in his arms. "You want me to pick you up higher or somethin'?" Lena just cooed, kicking her legs as she continued reaching. "Awww," David teased. "She wants her dad’s attention. That’s adorable." "She has my attention," Max muttered, lifting her up slightly so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed her back, feeling her tiny breaths against his neck. Gwen smirked. "You’re a total softie." Max shot her a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he just sat back, holding Lena close, letting the moment settle in. . . . Max was laying in his bed, Lena sleeping in her crib. He lost in thought. Thinking about what William just had to say to him. Why did William even wanna see him, Max just wanted to tell the mother fucker that he hopes he'd rot in prison. But why did William wanna talk to him? Max sighed, rubbing his face. He didn’t like this—not one bit. The fact that William refused to talk to anyone except him? That didn’t sit right. He didn’t owe that bastard anything. But still… Max turned his head to look at Lena, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully in her crib. She didn’t have a care in the world, and Max wanted to keep it that way. Maybe that’s why he was even considering going. If talking to William would give him answers—answers that might help him keep his daughter safe—then maybe it was worth it. Still, the thought of seeing him again made Max’s stomach twist. He clenched his fists, breathing out through his nose. "One week." That’s what he had asked for. He still had time to figure out what the hell he was gonna do.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Before Max knew it, the week was up. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, push it off, or pretend it wasn’t creeping closer, the day had arrived. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his shoes as he tied them. His fingers felt stiff, almost reluctant to move. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking off the hesitation. He had to do this. Lena cooed softly in her crib, stirring in her sleep. Max glanced over at her, his chest tightening. She was the only reason he was even *considering* this meeting. If it weren’t for her, he would’ve said ‘screw it’ and never looked back. A knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts. Gwen peeked in, her expression unreadable. “You ready?” Max stood up, rolling his shoulders. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” They hopped into Gwen's car The drive to the prison was eerily quiet. Max sat in the back, staring out the window while Gwen drove, and David sat in the passenger seat. The only sound filling the car was the faint hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. Max’s fingers tapped anxiously on his knee. He hated this. Every part of him screamed that this was a mistake, that he should turn back and never give William the satisfaction of seeing him again. But he had to know—*why* did William want to see him? What could he possibly have to say? David broke the silence. “You don’t *have* to do this, you know.” His voice was calm, reassuring. Max scoffed. “Yeah, I do.” Gwen glanced at him through the rearview mirror but didn’t say anything. She could tell there was no talking him out of it now. The prison came into view, its tall, gray walls looking even more miserable than Max had imagined. As they pulled into the parking lot, his stomach twisted. This was it. No turning back. Max looked at Lena in her newborn car seat. Sleeping. Not knowing that they were going to see the man that had helped make her. Gwen parked the car, cutting the engine. She turned to Max. “You good?” Max exhaled, running a hand through his curls. “Not really, but let’s just get this over with.” David glanced back at Lena, still peacefully sleeping in her car seat. “We’ll be right here when you’re done,” he reassured. Max gave a small nod, unbuckling himself. He adjusted Lena’s blanket before stepping out of the car. The closer he got to the entrance, the heavier his chest felt. What the hell does he want from me? The prison doors loomed ahead as they stepped inside. The cold, sterile air sent a shiver down Max’s spine. David had made sure Lena's car seat cover was shut tight, shielding her from the harsh fluorescent lights. Gwen led the way, holding the door open as Max hesitated for just a second before pulling his hoodie over his head. "Last chance to turn back," Gwen muttered, glancing at him. Max scoffed, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. "Nah, let’s just get this over with." A guard approached them, clipboard in hand. "You’re here to see William?" Max swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Yeah." The guard motioned for him to follow. David and Gwen exchanged a glance but said nothing as Max stepped forward, his heart pounding louder with every step. The walked down this cold hallway until the stopped at door, "can- can I bring my baby in to- she- she's his daughter so.." Max asked The officer walking with them. "Go ahead, yall have an hour and 30 minutes" she scanned her keycard, open the door Max hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The room was small and cold, nothing but a table and two chairs. On the other side sat William. His posture was slouched, his face tired and worn, but the second he heard the door open, his eyes flickered up.For a moment, neither of them spoke. Max stepped forward, adjusting the car seat in his grip before carefully setting it down on the table. Lena stirred but remained asleep, bundled up and unaware of the tension in the room.William's eyes dropped to the car seat. His jaw tightened. “That… that’s the baby?”Max nodded, keeping his expression blank.William’s gaze lingered, his fingers twitching slightly. “Boy or girl?”Max huffed out a breath, crossing his arms. "Why do you care?"William looked up at him, expression unreadable. “Because… I just do.”Max scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, you don’t get to care now.”Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. William looked back at the car seat, then at Max. “Can I… can I see them?”Max stared at him for a long moment before sighing. He reached down, pulling the blanket back just a little, enough for William to see the small, sleeping face beneath it.William’s face twitched—something between awe and pain flashing through his features. “They’re… they’re small.”Max swallowed hard. “Yeah. Came early.”William nodded slowly. His hands clenched into fists, resting on the table. “Are they… healthy?”Max hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. She’s perfect.”William’s head snapped up. “She?”Max froze, realizing what he just said. He pressed his lips together but didn’t backtrack. “Yeah. She.”William exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “A daughter…”Max wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t indifference. It was something else entirely. Something Max didn’t want to deal with.“She’s not yours,” Max said firmly. “She’s mine.”"What- What's her name?" William ignored Max’s remarkMax clenched his jaw, debating whether he even wanted to answer. William had no right to ask. No right to know anything about her.But at the same time… a part of Max wanted him to hear it. Wanted him to know what he would never get to be a part of."Lena," Max finally said. "Lena Lunia."William inhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t move. "Lena…" He let the name settle on his tongue, eyes flicking to the tiny bundle in the car seat."She's got nothing to do with you," Max added, his voice sharp. "She's mine. I'm raising her. You don’t get to claim anything."William nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Lena. “I know.”Max blinked. That wasn’t the response he expected.William swallowed hard. “I just… I wanted to see. To know.” He looked up at Max, something almost like regret in his eyes. "I know I don’t deserve anything from you. I don’t deserve to see her. I don’t deserve to be in her life."Max stared, caught off guard. His fists clenched at his sides, unsure of what to say.William glanced at Lena again, his expression softening. “She’s beautiful.”Max shifted uncomfortably, his protective instincts kicking in. He pulled the blanket back over Lena, shielding her from William’s gaze. “Yeah. I know.”Silence stretched between them again, and for the first time, Max wasn’t sure if he felt anger, relief, or something else entirely."Im..I'm sorry Max" William lowered his head Max froze. His grip on Lena’s car seat tightened."You're sorry?" He repeated, his voice flat.William nodded, still looking down. "I know it doesn't change anything. I know it doesn’t fix what I did. But I am sorry, Max. For all of it."Max let out a humorless laugh. "For all of it? You think just saying that makes a difference? You think you can sit here and apologize, and suddenly it means something?"William finally looked up, and for the first time, Max saw it—real guilt. Real shame."No," William admitted. "I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect anything. I just… I needed to say it. I needed you to hear it."Max’s chest felt tight. His whole life, he had imagined facing William like this—imagined screaming at him, cursing him, making him feel even a fraction of the pain he’d caused. But now, sitting here, hearing those words, Max didn’t know what to do with them."You don’t get to be sorry," Max finally said, his voice shaking. "You don’t get to walk away from everything you did and just say ‘sorry’ like it makes a fucking difference."William exhaled slowly, nodding like he expected that. "I know."Max hated it. Hated that William wasn’t fighting back. Hated that he was just sitting there, taking it."You don't know," Max spat. "You don't know what it was like for me. What it still is. You don’t know what it’s like to have to look at your own kid and pray to God she never has to know someone like you."William's eyes flickered to Lena again, filled with something Max couldn't name. "She won't," he said softly. "Not if you're the one raising her."Max swallowed, his throat tight. He hated this. Hated that some part of him had wanted William to be the monster he always thought he was. Hated that now, looking at him, he didn’t know what to feel anymore."But, please Max. Tell her about me. Tell her all the horrible shit I did to you. Tell her how horrible I am..please..just let her know I exist. Please" Max’s heart twisted painfully at William’s plea, his eyes flickering to Lena, who was still peacefully sleeping in her car seat. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Max fought to keep himself from breaking down."You want me to tell her about you?" Max's voice was low, thick with emotion. "You want me to tell her about how you tortured me? How you hurt me, how you left me for dead, how you destroyed everything that was good in my life?"William nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the chair, his voice desperate. "Yes. I deserve it. I deserve to be remembered for the monster I am. Please, Max. Tell her the truth. Don't protect me. Let her know who I really am."Max's breath caught in his chest, a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration boiling up inside him. He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out building in his chest. But when he looked at William, there was something in his eyes—something that Max couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was regret. Or maybe it was something darker, something he couldn’t fully understand."I don't want to do that," Max finally said, his voice soft but firm. "I don’t want to tell her about you. I don’t want her to know the monster you are. She doesn't need to carry that weight. She deserves to grow up without knowing who you really are, without your darkness hanging over her life."William’s eyes flickered, a silent plea in them. "But she has to know. She has to know what I did to you. She has to know that I exist. That I’m the reason you hurt. That I’m the reason you’re scared."Max shook his head, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I don’t want her to know that, William. I don’t want her to think of you at all. I want her to be better than you. I want her to have a life free of everything you did."He stood up, taking a step toward the door. His hand rested on the handle, but he didn’t turn the knob. He just stood there for a moment, staring down at his feet."She won’t know you. She won’t know what you did to me. Because that’s not her story to carry. And as much as I hate you, I’m not going to make her carry your sins."Max turned and walked out of the room, not sparing William another glance. He didn’t need to. The only thing that mattered now was Lena, the tiny life that had been born into a world full of darkness, but who, for as long as Max could help it, would never know the pain of her father’s mistakes.He heard a hiccup and sob on his out but he didn’t look back Max heard the soft, broken hiccup and the muffled sob from behind him, but he didn’t look back. He couldn't. Every step away from that room, every step away from William, felt like it was slowly pulling the weight off his shoulders. But the sound of William’s crying—a man who had never shown a hint of vulnerability before—lingered in the air, haunting him.It didn’t matter.Max clenched his jaw, his eyes stinging once again, but this time from a different kind of sorrow. It wasn’t for William. It wasn’t even for the past. It was for Lena, for the life she was going to have to grow up in—a life where her father’s sins would never be hers to carry. He was doing everything he could to make sure that the monster William had been would never be a part of her world.As he stepped out into the hallway, Gwen and David were waiting for him. He didn’t need to say anything. Gwen, with her sharp eyes, could see it all without Max uttering a word. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, but he just nodded, letting her know he was okay.He was okay.But even as he walked away from the door, from the sound of William’s regretful sobs, part of Max knew that he would never be fully okay with the choice he’d made. Yet, there was one thing that was certain: Lena would never know the man who had made him this way. She would only know the father who would do anything to keep her safe from it all.. . . Max stared at the floor, his grip on his phone tightening. His chest felt like it was caving in, like the weight of everything was finally pressing down on him all at once. The ruling. The court. Facing William again. It was too much. He had barely had time to process everything that had already happened, let alone prepare himself for something like this. Gwen rubbed his back in slow, steady circles, murmuring soft reassurances, but Max barely heard her. His mind was stuck on everything he had been through—the months of torment, the hunger, the fear, the pain. And now they wanted him to stand in a courtroom and talk about it? Like saying it out loud would make it any more real than it already was? David had taken over the call, his voice calm but firm as he asked the detective about the logistics. He glanced at Max every now and then, like he was making sure he wasn’t about to completely shut down. Max wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He didn’t know if he could walk into that courtroom and look William in the face again, knowing that the last time he saw him, the bastard was crying—crying like Max was supposed to feel sorry for him. No. No, he wasn’t doing this for William. Max exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He just wanted to hold Lena and pretend, even for a second, that none of this was real. That he was just a normal kid with a normal life. But that wasn’t his reality. His reality was this. “I…” Max started, his voice hoarse. Gwen and David both turned to him, waiting. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. David nodded like he understood. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he said. “Think about it, okay? No matter what you choose, we’re with you.” Max swallowed, his throat tight. He didn’t know what the right choice was. But he knew one thing for certain—whatever he did, it would be for Lena. Max sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned over the crib, watching Lena’s tiny chest rise and fall. She was so small, so fragile, but she was his. His baby. His responsibility. And that terrified him. The past two weeks had been nothing short of a whirlwind. Between the sleepless nights, the constant crying, and the weight of everything that had happened before her birth, Max felt like he was barely keeping his head above water. He wanted to do right by her, to be the kind of parent she deserved, but he didn’t even know where to start. He traced a gentle finger over her swaddled form, shaking his head slightly. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You don’t know anything yet. You don’t know about pain or fear or—” He cut himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she could grow up without all the horrors he’d faced. Maybe he could make sure of it. His stomach twisted at the thought of William. That man—her biological father—wanted Max to tell her about him. To tell her how horrible he was. And Max would. Someday. But not now. Not when she was still so tiny, so innocent. He sniffed, rubbing his eyes before looking at her again. “No matter what, you’re mine,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “No one else’s.” Not William’s. Not the state’s. Not anyone else’s. Just his. And for the first time since she was born, Max felt the faintest spark of something new. Not fear. Not doubt. Hope.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

. . . Max sat on the couch, bouncing his leg anxiously while Lena lay against his chest, wrapped in her soft blanket. The TV was on, playing some random show he wasn’t paying attention to. His mind was elsewhere. The court date was coming up. It was all happening so fast. Too fast. He had spent the last few days trying not to think about it, but how could he not? William was going to get what he deserved—Max knew that. The evidence was stacked against him, and the system wasn’t just going to let him walk free. But still. The idea of standing in front of everyone, of having to talk about what happened, made his stomach twist into knots. He didn’t want to relive it. He didn’t want to go back there. He rubbed his face with his free hand, sighing. “Max?” Gwen’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She sat across from him, watching him closely. “You okay?” He hesitated. “Yeah.” She gave him a look. The kind that said, I know you’re lying, but I’ll let you have it for now. David walked in, stretching. “The detective called. They want to go over everything with you before court.” He sat down beside Max, glancing at Lena before meeting his eyes. “Do you… want to do this?” Max swallowed hard. Did he? He knew he had to. For himself. For Lena. For every other kid William had hurt. But wanting to do it? That was a different story. “…Yeah,” Max said quietly. “I’ll do it.” David nodded, giving Max a moment before speaking again. “They’ll want you to give a statement. You don’t have to say anything more than what’s already in the report, but it would help.” Max ran his fingers through Lena’s soft, dark hair. She was so small in his arms, so unaware of everything happening. She didn’t know that the man they were about to put away was part of the reason she existed in the first place. And thank God for that. Max would do everything in his power to make sure she never had to know William beyond what was necessary. Gwen shifted in her seat, watching him carefully. “You don’t have to go alone. Me and David will be there.” Max nodded. He knew that. But it didn’t make it any less terrifying. “What if I freeze up?” Max muttered, eyes still on Lena. David leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then you freeze up. It’s not gonna change the outcome. They have all the proof they need.” “I just—” Max paused, gripping the blanket around Lena a little tighter. “I don’t want him to look at me. I don’t want to see his fucking face.” Gwen and David exchanged a glance. “You won’t have to look at him if you don’t want to,” Gwen reassured him. “You can keep your eyes on us. Or Lena. Or anywhere else. He doesn’t get to have that power over you.” Max exhaled sharply. He knew they were right. But it didn’t make the fear go away. David glanced at his phone. “The meeting with the detective is tomorrow morning. You’ll have some time to think it over.” Max nodded slowly. Tomorrow. Just one more step before all of this could be over. "Max, before you truly say yes, I need you to know,  court and William’s sentencing will be on the news ok? The other two will be there, and it live and recorded. Ok?" David touched Max's back Max stiffened at that, his grip on Lena tightening just slightly. He swallowed hard. The news. That meant a whole lot of people would see it. Everyone at camp. Everyone at school. People he didn’t even know. And the other two—William’s other victims. Max hadn’t thought much about them. Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know how to. They had gone through the same hell he had. Maybe worse. And now, they’d all be in the same room together, facing the man that had tried to break them. “Okay,” Max finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Okay.” David studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You can back out at any time.” Max knew that. But something in him also knew he wouldn’t. Because even though the thought of seeing William in court made his stomach churn, Max wanted to be there when they took him away. He wanted to hear the sentence. He wanted to watch that bastard get what he deserved. And more than anything, he wanted to make sure William never had the chance to hurt anyone ever again. "Max, people have been invested in you case sense we've found you. It public Max, they Don't know your or Lena’s face. Only mine, David and Wil- His." Max let out a shaky breath, shifting Lena in his arms as he processed that. People had been watching. People had been invested. He wasn’t just some kid who had gone missing and come back—he was a damn news story. “And they’re gonna know everything, aren’t they?” Max muttered. “Everything he did to me.” Gwen and David exchanged a glance, and Gwen was the one to answer. “Not… everything. But enough. Enough for people to understand what he did and why he’s going away for a long time.” Max scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. Great. Just what I need. A bunch of people feeling sorry for me.” David sighed. “Max, no one’s trying to exploit you. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. The case is strong enough without you.” But that wasn’t what Max meant. He didn’t care if people heard about it. He cared that people would see him as the kid who got kidnapped, the kid who got hurt, the kid who was too weak to stop it. And Lena—she was gonna grow up with this attached to her name. She’d have to learn one day where she came from. Who she came from. Max swallowed hard, looking down at his daughter’s tiny sleeping face. He wasn’t gonna let the world define her by him. Or him. “Whatever,” Max mumbled. “Let’s just get this shit over with.” . . The Next Day . . When Gwen and David peeked Into Max's room, he was just staring at Lena as he rocked her In his arms, her eyes open, staring right back at him. “Max?” Gwen called softly, stepping into the room with David right behind her. Max didn’t look up. He kept his gaze on Lena, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on her swaddle. She blinked up at him, wide-eyed and curious, her tiny mouth moving like she wanted to say something but couldn’t yet. “You good?” David asked, though he already knew the answer. Max sighed. “I dunno.” Gwen and David shared a glance before Gwen walked over, sitting on the edge of Max’s bed. “You’re thinking about tomorrow, aren’t you?” Max scoffed. “Like I could think about anything else.” He finally looked up at them, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. “I just—what if I mess up? What if I say something stupid? What if—” He exhaled sharply. “What if seeing him makes me freak out or something?” Gwen reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. “Then we’ll be there to back you up. You don’t have to do this alone, Max.” David nodded. “And no one expects you to be perfect. Just be honest. Say what you need to say, not what you think people wanna hear.” Max looked down at Lena again, who was still staring at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. He swallowed. “I just want it to be over.” Gwen gave his knee a small squeeze. “It will be. Soon.” Max took a deep breath and nodded. Soon. David's phone rung, he took it, but he put it on speaker. The detective, she spoke, "Hello? David?" He replied, "yes? Is there any thing you need?" The detective sighed, "I've got more information, but this is something you all need to here so-" Gwen cut her off, "your on speaker, we're here." The detective hmm'd, "Ok, so, William started talking and we have a motive and Max's parents are In custody. They were involved-" Max muttered bitterly, "what?" Gwen looked over, "figured." Max repeated. "Max- i- mm, from what William has told us, all the victims were basically sold off to him, he just had to 'pick them up'. So they sold Max off while he was at camp since he'd be closer to William." The silence was loud. Max gripped Lena just a little tighter, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He blinked a few times, trying to process what he just heard. His parents. They sold him. It wasn’t just neglect, it wasn’t just indifference—they made the choice to hand him over to that monster. David was the first to speak, his voice carefully measured. “Do you have proof?” The detective sighed. “We do. Transactions, messages… We’re still piecing everything together, but it’s solid.” Max let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Of course it is.” Gwen shifted closer to him, watching him carefully. “Max—” “I knew they didn’t care,” he cut her off, voice shaking. “I knew they hated me. But this?” He let out a shuddering breath. “They didn’t even try to hide it.” David ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “They’re in custody now. They’re not gonna hurt you ever again, Max.” Max’s breath was uneven, his arms trembling as he held Lena. “But they already did.” Gwen reached for him, her hand gentle on his arm. “We’re here, okay? You’re not alone in this.” Lena let out a soft noise, as if sensing his distress. Max immediately looked down at her, his chest tightening. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to focus on her tiny, innocent face. She’s here. I’m here. The detective’s voice came back through the speaker. “Max, I know this is a lot, but we’re going to make sure they pay for this. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” Max swallowed hard and nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Okay.” His voice was hoarse. David looked between Max and Gwen before speaking. “Thanks for letting us know. Keep us updated.” “Will do,” the detective responded before hanging up. Silence settled over the room. Gwen and David were watching him carefully, waiting. Max exhaled shakily. “I think I need a minute.” Gwen squeezed his arm gently before standing up. “Take all the time you need.” David nodded and gave his shoulder a small pat before following Gwen out. Max sat there, staring at Lena as she curled against his chest, completely unaware of the chaos that surrounded her. He kissed her forehead softly. “It’s just me and you, baby. I won’t be like them. I swear.” Max cried. He cried as held Lena, as he put her back in her crib, as he told David and Gwen to watch her as he went to take a shower, he sobbed as he showered The water ran hot, scalding against his skin, but Max didn’t turn it down. He pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, his shoulders shaking with every sob that wracked his small frame. His parents had sold him. All this time, he thought they just didn’t care, that they were just neglectful, that they were too self-absorbed to even notice him. But they noticed. They knew exactly what they were doing. They made a choice. And the worst part? They didn’t even care what happened to him afterward. Max choked on his own breath, his fingers curling into fists against the wall. He had spent so much of his life being angry, being bitter, but this? This was something else. Something deeper. Betrayal. He wiped at his face, but the tears kept coming. He didn’t even know why he was still crying. He knew they didn’t love him. But somehow, hearing the truth out loud made it so much worse. He stayed under the water until his skin was red, until his sobs turned into slow, shaky breaths. When he finally shut the water off, he just stood there, dripping, staring at nothing. He didn’t want to go back out. Didn’t want to see the looks on David and Gwen’s faces. But Lena. She was out there. Waiting for him. Max swallowed down whatever was left of his tears and forced himself to step out of the shower. He dried off, dressed quickly, and ran a towel through his wet hair before finally leaving the bathroom. David and Gwen were sitting on the couch, talking in hushed voices, but they both turned when they saw him. Neither of them said anything—didn’t push, didn’t ask if he was okay. Instead, Gwen stood up and handed him Lena without a word. Max took her, cradling her close, and let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t okay. But she was here. And she needed him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Max walked back into the living room, his eyes still red from the shower, but his focus was on Lena. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to the present, the only reason he kept breathing. He didn’t want to think about the past, about the truth that was suffocating him. But as he rocked her in his arms, the weight of everything began to settle in again. David and Gwen exchanged a glance. They both knew this wasn’t going to be easy. The detective’s words still hung in the air like smoke, lingering over everything they did. Max’s parents. The deal. The fact that the people who were supposed to protect him—love him—had been the ones who sold him out. But now wasn’t the time to discuss that. Not with Max still trying to process everything. Gwen cleared her throat. “Max, have you thought about what you want to do next?” Max didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on Lena, her tiny hand curling around his finger. His little girl. She deserved better than all of this. She deserved a world where he didn’t have to carry the weight of his past, where he could give her a better future. “I don’t know,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of this. All I’ve ever wanted was to just be… normal. But now—now everything’s different. And I can’t fix it.” David stood up, walking over to him slowly. “You don’t have to fix everything, Max. We’ll figure it out together. We’re all here for you, every step of the way.” Gwen nodded, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to be alone in this. Not anymore. We’ve got you, and we’ll help you find a way through it.” Max took a shaky breath, glancing up at them. He didn’t know how to say what he was feeling—how to explain the storm inside him that threatened to drown him. But one thing he did know was that he wasn’t alone anymore. And for the first time in a long while, he actually believed it. As he looked down at Lena, still nestled in his arms, Max promised himself he would do whatever it took to protect her. He wouldn’t let her fall into the same kind of darkness he had lived through. She deserved better. He kissed her forehead gently, whispering, “I’ll protect you. Always.” David and Gwen stayed quiet, letting him have that moment. It was all Max needed: the promise of a future, of love, of protection. He had a family now. And maybe—just maybe—he could start to rebuild everything he’d lost. But for now, all he could do was hold on to Lena and try to be the father she needed. Max leaned against the wall of his room, his mind still racing from everything that had happened. The truth about his parents, William, the way his entire life had been turned upside down in the span of a few weeks—it was overwhelming. It felt like too much, like everything was moving too fast. And yet, he couldn't stop it. He couldn't rewind time and undo the pain, the hurt, the betrayals. His eyes flicked over to the crib where Lena had been sleeping soundly. She was his anchor, the one thing that made all of the chaos worth it. But even with her, Max felt like he was walking a fine line between keeping it together and breaking down completely. He glanced at the clock: 9:55. It felt later than that, though. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since he last had a moment to himself. Max knew he wasn’t ready to go back into the living room. Not yet. He needed to gather himself, to breathe without the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. The thoughts were starting to pile up again—the uncertainty, the fear of being inadequate as a parent, the nagging feeling that he wasn’t enough for Lena. He thought about what David and Gwen had said earlier, how they’d reminded him that he wasn’t alone. But still, a part of him felt like a failure. He’d been thrust into this responsibility, this role, and it wasn’t like flipping a switch. It wasn’t just about feeding her, changing her, and keeping her safe. There was so much more. He had to figure out how to be a father, how to provide for her, how to ensure she never had to feel the loneliness and fear he had felt growing up. Max let out a deep breath, trying to release some of the tension he felt. For the first time in a long while, he wished for things to just be simple. But life wasn’t like that. Life had always been complicated, always messy, and there was nothing he could do to change that. But he could change how he handled it. He could be the father Lena deserved. He would be. Max wasn’t going to let his past define her. He wasn’t going to let it define him. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Max stood up and walked to the door, hesitating for just a moment before he stepped out into the living room. David and Gwen were there, as expected, both of them sitting with Lena. She was calm now, her bottle finished, her small eyes darting around. When she saw Max, she made a soft noise, as if recognizing him. Max smiled, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest as he walked toward her. David looked up at him, giving him a knowing look. “Feeling better?” David asked quietly. Max nodded. “Yeah, just needed a moment.” Gwen smiled gently. “It’s okay. We’re here when you’re ready.” Max leaned down and picked Lena up from David’s arms, cradling her carefully. She gazed up at him, and for a moment, Max felt a strange peace wash over him. He didn’t have to be perfect. He didn’t have to have everything figured out. All he had to do was be there for her. He kissed the top of her head, whispering, “I’m here, Lena. I’m never going to leave you.” As he held her in his arms, Max realized that this—this was what mattered. He wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not ever. . Lena’s tiny eyes followed Max’s every movement, her little body relaxing in his arms as he made gentle cooing noises to her. She smiled softly, the corners of her mouth twitching as if trying to mimic the sounds he was making. Max smiled at her, his heart swelling as he noticed how much she liked it. Every coo, every whisper, even the soft whines that escaped his lips seemed to captivate her. It amazed him how something so small, so innocent, could have such a powerful effect on him. She didn’t need much—just the warmth of his voice, the soft sounds that seemed to comfort her. He realized that he was learning her, just as she was learning him. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. It’s okay,” Max whispered as he softly rocked her in his arms, swaying side to side. “I’m here. Always here.” Lena’s eyes fluttered, her tiny fingers reaching up toward him, grabbing onto his shirt, clinging to the only thing that made her feel safe. Max chuckled softly, watching her, her little grip so strong for such a small baby. “You like that, huh?” Max cooed again, smiling as Lena’s face lit up with the purest form of contentment. Her little coos and gurgles filled the room, a peaceful rhythm that made Max’s heart ache with a mixture of love and something deeper—an overwhelming sense of protection. He was her father, and no matter what had happened before, this was his responsibility now. He could do this. For her. “Just you and me, kid,” Max whispered, his voice soft but steady. “And we’re gonna be okay.” Lena made another small sound, her eyes half-closed as she relaxed against him. Max held her a little tighter, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he continued to make soothing noises, watching over her with a love that he never knew he had. . . . Max laid Lena to bed, and sat in his own. He texted the detective. Max : I'll go on stand and stuff. And can Lena come? Or no babies? She responded quickly Mrs. Regina / detective: normally no, but since she was a product of the crime she is more than welcomed to attend, and plus, she's adorable. Max grinned at the message before say thank you and goodnight before setting his phone on the charger and going to bed. Max stared at the ceiling for a while after he set his phone down, the weight of the upcoming trial weighing on him. He knew it was the right thing to do, to face William in court and speak his truth. But the thought of it still made him feel small, vulnerable, like he was about to relive every awful thing he’d been through. He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away. He had Lena now, and that was the only thing that mattered. She needed him to be strong, to protect her, to show her the kind of world she deserved. Max let out a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety that had been creeping up on him ever since the call from the detective. “Tomorrow, Max,” he muttered to himself. “You can handle tomorrow.” He glanced over at Lena’s crib, seeing her little form peacefully asleep. A soft smile tugged at his lips. Whatever happened, whatever the world threw at him, he had this little girl. She needed him, and that was more than enough reason to keep fighting. Max closed his eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking him as sleep began to pull him under. For the first time in a while, he felt a sense of peace. Even if the world around him felt uncertain, at least he had Lena. At least he wasn’t alone anymore. And with that thought, Max fell asleep, hoping that tomorrow would be a little easier.