A/N This chapter contains the trigger warning section of chapter 32.
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There's no time to think, no time to process before Abrahm is pulling out a knife, cutting the ropes that bind the fae in two swift motions before grabbing him by the hair. December sits motionless, a violent mix of shock and fear holding him in place as he watches the events unfolding before him. Watches as Abrahm overpowers Wren struggling on the floor until he's atop of him, knife ripping away at the the bloodied Haven sweatshirt deaf to Wren's cries.

Watches as he cuts away at Wren's wrist when he attempts to push the boy off of him, hands ripping the material of Wren's waistband until his clothes lay in pieces on the floor. December can't look away, breaths quickening in fear as Abrahm turns the small boy over on the floor as he resists. Tears stream down his face while Abrahm grabs at his hair, pressing him into the floor now smeared by his own blood. His knife finds its way to the only piece of clothing that remains, Wren's screaming protests muffled against the linoleum as the sound of a belt unbuckling falls through the room and Abrahm begins to push away at his own waistband.

"Who are you? Ryder? I didn't know you were into that kind of thing." It's the other guard, his presence having gone unnoticed until this point. "Hey, hey, I'm just asking so I can give you some privacy is all." The man laughs, a slight pride in his eye at the comment. The sound is genuine, smile natural as if the actions he just witnessed were somehow amusing to him.

Abrahm turns back to the guard with a grin, knees digging into Wren's ribs as he attempts to escape the larger boy's grasp. "Not funny man." Abrahm laughs, turning his attention back to Wren as his pants fall to his knees, body pressed tightly against Wren before addressing the guard. "Hey, come hold him down he's actually pretty strong."

The guard doesn't question the order, merely shaking his head slightly before crossing the room, grabbing a fistful of strawberry hair from Abrahm's grasp. "You know there's a million women in this facility, you can get your fix elsewhere without committing beastiality."

Abrahm merely shakes his head in protest, hands wrapping themselves around Wren's forearm until the fae is wincing in pain and the dark indention of a hand begins to form against his skin. "You have to break them so they aren't so unruly. This is a lesson on forcing them into submission, now hold him still."

December can't breathe, panic coursing through every inch of his body, every breath he forcibly drags into each lung as he searches for an exit, searches for a way out of this white Hell now stained a deep red. In his panic it all seems to come crashing down, blinding lights digging into his flesh until it drips white blood seeped in guilt and sin. This is the room of a demon unknown, a room drenched in suffering that flows through every possible crevice.

December's chest tightens at the sound of that too soft voice now saturated in fear, each word shaken from tears as he cries against the restraints of the men on top of him.

"Please. P-please." Wren can barely get the word out, begs muffled against the linoleum floor until the guard pulls at his hair to force his face upward, cheeks stained with tears and eyes wide with fear as he pleads.

"Sounds like he's begging for it." Abrahm plays, lips still molded into a grin that has embedded itself within December's mind, ice coursing through his veins at the sight of it. His lips find their way to Wren's ear, teeth barred in amusement with every word he speaks. "Just pretend I'm Ryder, I know how much you want him."

December's eyes shut instinctively, body forcing him to spare himself from the sight though he can't block out the sounds of Wren's screams as Abrahm overpowers him. The sound of the thump of his skin against Wren's as the smaller boy cries. The sound of his arms dragging across the linoleum, the bones of his wrist popping as he desperately attempts to pull away from the guard restraining him.

The noise begins to die down, only the rhythmic beat of skin on skin continuing to wash over the room. There's a nausea that finds its way to the back of December's throat, eyes forced open as vomit splashes against the white and red flooring of the small room. He can't stop his gaze from wondering to the fae laid against the ground, a force stronger than his own guiding his eyes to the dead stare of the boy ahead of him.

Wren's lavender eyes have glassed over, void of any emotions, any life as they stare emptily through December's body sat across from him. The guard has let go of his arms, pale limbs laid limp ahead of him as his body rocks with the force of the man on top of him. His eyes never shift, body never moving as his face falls expressionless, eyes wide until even his tears cease to be, just a carcass that rocks emptily against the cold tiles.

It seems to go on forever, his body only pausing when Abrahm grabs his now whitened hair with a deep grunt, teeth digging into the fae's shoulder until a bloodied, crescent shaped wound remains. The smell of salt and iron and the sweat of Abrahm's body flood the room, December unable to release the breath he didn't know he held, unable to move or feel or think until Abrahm finally crawls away from the fae laid expressionless on the floor.

He pulls his pants up calmly before laughing, playfully hitting at the guard for his previous comments. "That's how you break them into submission." He beams proudly.

Panting slightly, he pulls his sweat drenched hair from his forehead before rolling Wren's body over with his foot. "Just know I can do this to you whenever I want to. You're not in much of a position to put up a fight. I own you, and I'll do whatever I want with you until you break." With that the two exit the room along with the silence it once held, the first sounds breaking through the room as Wren finally lets out a pained cry, body slowly curling itself into a ball though he winces from the pain of his actions.

RETURN TO CHAPTER 32