- Your POV -

Eyes wide, you take in your surroundings. Black walls with a layer of fabric surround, seeming to press against you. The air is not too chilly but shivers race down your spine despite the absence of cold.

You know you screwed up.

I should've walked away, you groan internally before sitting up.

You observe the room and see nothing but padded walls. Walls that trap you. Cage you.

Gulping, you try to make sense of the situation.

You were with Credence, and then Mary Lou came. You were mad.

Shutting your eyes, you clench your teeth at the memories of transforming into a monster and scaring Mary Lou and fighting Tina and the man that had shown up.

You have no doubt that you're in MACUSA being punished for what you did - or tried to do. Focusing on steadying your breaths, you stand up and start to pace. You keep assuring yourself that you're fine and that everything will be fine.

Then, you remember Credence. He wouldn't know what happened to you. He'd believe that you abandoned him when you swore that you would never leave him.

How could I be so foolish!? You chastise yourself for ruining everything. Your breathing becomes frantic and painful.

What am I going to do?!

Digging your hands into your hair, you stifle a scream of exasperation and defeat. I screwed up.

Suddenly, more light floods in the small room. A man enters, and you recognize the slicked-back hair of the man from the fight.

His presence is intimidating and seems to fill the whole space. It suffocates.

At the presence of a stranger, you shrink back into the corner as far away from him as you can get. Flashbacks of whips and beatings from the circus cause you to cower before such obvious power.

"Relax, I won't hurt you," his voice is not exactly kind, but it isn't cruel either.

You stay tense.

He shrugs and leans against the black wall, perfectly at ease. "My name is Percival Graves. I already know your name, so you needn't say it, Y/n."

Biting your lip, you glare at the man, panic still rising.

"You caused quite a scene the other day, Y/n. What an intense show of strength."

You wait for him to continue speaking as he examines you with a gentle smile.

"You are truly gifted."

You try to ignore the crushing feeling in your chest as you reply with, "When can I leave?"

"I don't know."

The words linger in the air long after he speaks them, haunting you.

"You don't. . . know?" You echo quietly not daring to draw another breath.

He nods slowly, "Madam President does not seem to know if you will ever be free again."

Clenching your teeth, you barely manage to spit out words, "She doesn't?"

As if sensing the fury overtaking you, Mr. Graves nods solemnly and sits with his back to the wall, facing you. He regards you quietly, his face a cool mask of tranquility. You glare openly at him and try desperately to hold back the tears that burn at your eyes. One slips past your defenses and rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet trail on your skin.

Breathing heavily, you groan and shake your head in disbelief. This can't be happening, I can't be trapped again.

Unexpectedly, your eyes snap to his, "You can't keep me here. I-" your voice breaks and you sob -"I can't stay here."

Trepidation and agitation claw at your insides as you shake violently.

"I can help you." His voice is as soft and smooth as honey.

The words seem to dissipate in the air, leaving behind a velvety silence pleasant to the senses. You had not noticed before, but now you can smell the distinct scent of sweet-smelling smoke tangled with the delectable aroma of mint.

"Help me how?"

"I can help you escape this place, but you will have to be patient." He informs you.

You study him, "Why would you help me?"

"I think you deserve better than this. You can't spend your life rotting away in here." He motions around the room.

"And, maybe one day you can return the favor."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you know if you accept his help you will be indebted to him. But, you also know that he could be your only chance for escape. Considering your options, you weigh the pros and cons of both choices. All the while, Mr. Graves waits patiently.

"Thank you, Mr. Graves." You finally answer.

He smiles and gets to his feet, "Until next time, Y/n."

You nod and watch him walk away.

~

It's been two days since Credence has last seen Y/n.

The boy sighs and hunches his shoulders as he stands on the street and hands out pamphlets. Maybe he did something wrong? Maybe she doesn't want to be around him anymore.

A passerby roughly shoves past him, causing Credence to almost lose his balance. He keeps his face neutral, even though it's hard to ignore the anger and pain within.

And so, he stands there, wondering where on earth Y/n could be. Wondering if she'll ever come back.

He grits his teeth and fights back against the hot tears pressing against his eyes. With steely resolve, he stands as stone.

Though, he is not stone.

Stone doesn't feel pain, emotional or otherwise. Credence does, perhaps more so than others do.

Maybe his life would be better if he was made of cold, hard rock.

At least then he wouldn't suffer.