After Anna was finished with Braken, she attempted to help Leo, but he wouldn't let her touch him, so instead, she turned to me. "Your turn," she said.

I blinked in surprise and backed up against the sink, bumping one of my gashes. I jerked forward with a yelp and she grabbed my wrist, pulling me over to the table. "Anna, what -"

She just pushed me down into a chair and said, "Take your shirt off. I know there's something there."

I started to argue, but she gave me a look and I quickly obeyed, taking my jacket off and pulling my shirt over my head. She turned me around and had me sit in the chair backwards, so I could lean against the back rest while she cleaned me up. I didn't think I was all that bad. Sure, it burned like fire, especially when someone touched them, but I'd been so dulled by adrenaline that I hadn't noticed.

"Alright, Joel," she said forcefully, pressing a wet cloth against my shoulder. "Tell me what's going on."

I let out a shriek and nearly tipped the chair over, but she held me still as she gently washed my wounds with the rag. It burned like fire and stung like a nest of hornets, but no matter how much noise I made, no matter how I twitched away from her, she continued her service and cleaned me up.

I told her, in between shrieks, what had happened, how I'd been caught, how these three Unnaturals needed help, and she listened silently. Finally, once she was satisfied with her work, she began to wrap the bandages around me, getting closer to me than we'd been in a while. "You're playing hero, then, aren't you?" she murmured. "That's not like you."

"We have -" I cut off with a yelp. "- to do something. They can't be treated like this anymore. It's not okay."

"So, you fought in the games?" Gus asked. I'd almost forgotten he was in the room.

"Yeah," I said, glancing at the Unnaturals. Varien had laid down on the floor and was snoring softly, and Leo was sitting next to Braken on the couch, his head ducked and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Gus stared at me, watching me in a way that made me feel slightly threatened. "Okay. How was it? What was it like?"

"Horrible." I shivered just thinking about it, and Anna had to hold me still again. "I killed another person, and I haven't quite gotten over it yet. He ... the kid I killed haunts my dreams. He was your age, maybe a little older - how old are you?"

"Fifteen," he said.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise. "This is no place for a kid."

"I'm not a kid," he said hotly, crossing his arms and shaking his head to clear his long curly hair out of his eyes. "And something came up. None of your business. Plus, I could beat you in a fight in a heartbeat."

"Sorry I asked," I grumbled, sensing his hostility.

Someone knocked on the door, and Eoin poked his head in. "Hey, Gus. We're up in ten."

"Okay. Be down in a sec." Gus turned back to us and pointed at a box sitting on top of a shelf. "The place is yours, except for that box. Don't touch it or else. See you around." With that comforting remark, he left the room.

Anna knotted the bandage and I yelped again. "I guess that means I'm out, too. Be good." She smiled at me, but I stopped her.

"Anna, why is he really here? This is no place for kids like him!" I hissed.

She brushed me away. "Look, you know the rules. You win, you get paid. The only thing he told me was that he sends most of his money to his family. I don't know where they are, or how he got here, but that's it. The rest he pays to me, for letting him live here. Rent money."

"How often does he win?"

"Pretty often," she said, shrugging.

"How often does he fight?"

"More than he should. Only last month, he almost broke his collar bone, but he won't let me look at it. He won't let anyone. In fact, if he's not in a fight, he won't let anyone touch him."

I glanced over at Braken and Leo, and saw the older Unnatural glaring at me, even with his head down. Her words reminded me of him.

"Sorry, Joel," Anna said regretfully, "but I have a fight to monitor. I'll be back in the morning to check on you guys. Feel free to eat, sleep, just be safe and be smart. And don't touch his box."

"What's in it?" Leo said, his voice low and growling.

"I don't know. It's none of my business. Good night."

And with that, she was gone.

...

Varien got the bed that night. Leo stayed on the floor by the couch, determined to be there for his friend when he woke up. I sat at the table all night, thinking about what we were going to do after this. We couldn't stay here for long. I didn't want to hurt Anna again.

Eventually, though, I fell asleep.

I woke up cold and slightly disoriented. I heard a thump, a gasp, and then a tiny, stuttering curse. Slowly, I blinked open my eyes and saw a blurry figure stumble, trying to hold on to something. It was whitish, though its face was dark, and I wondered if I was dreaming or something, but then I suddenly jolted awake and fell off of my chair.

Braken let out a strained yelp and backed up into the counter, his face going pale. He tried to grasp the rim of the sink, but with his hands wrapped, he couldn't do much.

"Braken, what are you ..." I let my voice trail off as I saw the box from the cabinet sitting on the counter. He caught me staring and shifted awkwardly to stand in front of it, as if hiding it from my sight would make me forget he was at fault. "Braken, you can't look in there. Gus - the guy who lives here - told us not to."

Braken gave me a look, and even with his blackened and swollen eyes, it one that said whatcha gonna do about it? And then, before I could say anything, he turned around and deliberately opened the lid.

"Braken!" I hissed in anger. He stuck his tongue out at me like a little child. "You know, for one who just woke up after being unconscious for nearly two days, you sure have an attitude."

He glared at me, and then his eyes softened when he looked inside the box. He pulled something out, struggling to hold it with his bandaged hands. He held it up toward me, giving me a questioning look.

"What?" I asked, seeing nothing wrong with it.

He nodded, and then shook the thing at me, like he didn't know what it was.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to interpret, and he nodded again. "Oh, it's a teddy bear."

He brought it down, holding it in his cupped hands, and mouthed the words. Teddy bear.

"Kids like to hold them when they're young and scared," I explained, already sensing the question.

He stared at the stuffed toy in his hands for a long moment, his head slightly tilted, and then a bright smile spread across his face. I liked when he smiled. His eyes lit up and the air around him brightened, and it even made the bruises and cuts on his face seem to disappear. He held the teddy bear up close to his heart and rocked back and forth gently, closing his eyes and letting his smile turn from bright and cheerful to warm and gentle, without showing his teeth.

Suddenly, he staggered, and I quickly ran up to catch him. He dropped the bear and caught himself roughly, letting out a gasp of pain. I jumped back on instinct, afraid to touch him now that he was awake. I didn't want him to accidentally turn me to dust. I didn't know how often that happened. I quickly realized my mistake and started to apologize, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture and slowly lowered himself down to the floor, picking the teddy bear up gently. I knew he'd noticed my hesitation, my fear, and I could clearly see how it had stabbed a knife of guilt into his heart. Even out here, even being free wasn't enough.

"Braken -" I started, but he cut me off again, and then tried to rest against the counter, only to bump his wounded back and yelp in pain.

Suddenly, I could see how exhausted he really was. I had thought the dark bags under his eyes were bruises from Howell, but they were signs of sleep deprivation. His eyes, though pained and gentle, were unfocused, and he fought to keep them open. He opened his mouth in a wide yawn and blinked sleepily, but every time he started to drift off, he jerked awake again.

"Come on," I murmured, bending over to help him. He stumbled to his feet, staying off of his left ankle, and let me lead him back over to the couch. "Lay down and get some sleep." His stomach suddenly growled, startling me. "Hungry?" I asked, and he nodded. "I'll get you something small, and then go to bed, okay?"

He blinked at me in surprise and attempted to ask something. I didn't understand, so he tried again. Eventually, he had to trace letters on my arm, trying his best to only use the corner of his bandaged hand. WHAT IS BED? he asked.

"Oh," I said, my heart sinking. "A bed is where you sleep." He pointed to the ground, where Leo was curled up, and I shook my head. "No, that's not a bed. A bed is a comfortable place to sleep, with soft cushions and blankets."

He blinked at me again, his way of telling me he didn't understand. Even so, he turned away from me, his pale face flushing pink in shame, as if he'd done something wrong. I tried to tell him that it was okay, but he wouldn't let me say anything. For one who couldn't talk, he sure had a way of silencing me.

I left him as he sat down, holding the teddy bear in his lap, having already claimed it as his own, and went over to the tiny fridge, wondering what Gus had in here. There was a half loaf of white bread, so I pulled it out and took two slices, biting into one and handing the other to Braken. Bread had never tasted so good.

He looked up at me, holding the bear in one hand and the bread in the other. "Eat it," I urged through a mouthful.

Hesitantly, he put the corner in his mouth and nibbled on it, and then his eyes widened in surprise and he shoved the rest into his mouth. He had a hard time chewing it, and kept pausing to use his tongue to get the bread out of his teeth. As he swallowed the last of it, he smiled at me and signed his thanks, his palm as flat as he could make it as he moved the tip of his fingers from his chin toward me.

"Is that how you say thank you?" I asked, and he nodded. I copied the sign, and he flashed me a bright smile. "Alright, Braken, now you need to sleep," I said. "You're not going to get any better if you don't get rest."

He made another sign with his hand, up on his face, but then he giggled and laid himself down on the couch before I could ask, turning over so his back was facing me. I could already see splotches of blood soaking through the bandages, and that worried me. I hoped what Anna had done had been enough. We didn't have money to take him to the hospital, and they'd only catch us there, anyway. I couldn't go back to the games. I'd go insane.

Only moments later, Braken's breathing steadied, his shoulders rising and falling more rhythmically than they had before. I took that as a sign that he was getting a little better.

Once I was sure he was going to stay asleep, I crept back to the table and sat down again, the bread churning in my stomach. Suddenly, his story was real to me. He really hadn't ever been out of those games. He'd really lived there his entire life. No, lived wasn't the right word. He'd merely been existing. He'd been surviving in a nightmare, and now he'd finally woken up. He didn't know what a teddy bear was, or what a bed was - he didn't even know what bread was. Had he survived on that grey stuff his entire life?

I felt sick to my stomach. How could we have done this? I repeated these questions over as over until I felt like my head was spinning, and then I slumped over, too exhausted to keep my eyes open.