A/N: This chapter contains physical and verbal abuse. Please proceed carefully.

Saturday had been an easy affair. Thatch gave you space while you put your things away. You shared meals together, but you spent the majority of the day doing things separately. Both of you headed to bed fairly early as well - it had been a long day, or a long series of days, and you were both pretty worn out.

You'd tucked the phone from your parents away for now, and tried to forget about it on Sunday while you were out running errands together.

Thatch was completely unchanged from how he'd been. He didn't become mean now that you were moved in, he didn't become physical or pushy. Asking if he could hold your hand before even holding his out, opening doors for you, and carrying just about everything. You'd insisted on keeping a few items, and he didn't argue with you, but the easy kindness he showed you was appreciated.

Painful, but appreciated.

He took you two a couple nice places for breakfast and lunch, and your final stop for the day was the market. After having bought you a new phone, a wide selection of herbal teas, and a green tea to try when you were ready for it, he bought your favorite foods at the market. Ready and willing to make a full and proper feast for you that night.

No matter how nice he was, and how well the day had gone, you couldn't shake the weight of the phone hidden in your room. Keeping the knowledge of it from Thatch was hard enough on its own, but the weight of the unknown beyond that, pressed against you. You had no idea what your parents were going to demand of you, and all you could do was hope that you could deny them somehow.

Eating your fill when they weren't around to stop you was one thing, but even just seeing the texts from them had been impossible to defy.

The dinner Thatch made was delicious, even with the weight of the phone on your shoulders, it was still some of the best food you'd ever had. Guiltily you wondered if it would've tasted even better if you could've actually focused on it. If you could've focused on him.

If you could've just told him.

It was easy to see the worry on Thatch's face. He didn't ask what was on your mind, probably torn between not wanting to make you feel bad, and wanting you to feel like you had to tell him. Everything he'd said and done was full of choices and options, and it had been a bit overwhelming. He was so incredibly patient, however, and his voice was so soothing that it was never too much. When you couldn't decide you'd say as much and he'd "decide for now", and then say something about how you could change your mind later and it would be okay.

Now you stood in the empty apartment alone.

It was still dark outside, you'd woken up with Thatch at three in the morning. He'd insisted you didn't have to, but once you said you wanted to, he didn't push back. Thatch went over the numbers to the bakery, and reiterated that if you couldn't reach him, you could call Marco or Izou if you needed anything, even Pops. His dad was still pretty busy with the business, but there was no way he'd turn you down if you had a request.

You'd asked for another kiss on your cheek before Thatch left and he lingered just a little longer than he had with the first one. The smile on his face was perfect, and the warmth sat on your face long after he'd closed the door, but you'd stayed by the door until the warmth was gone entirely.

Standing alone in the apartment, with that warmth faded, everything seemed extra empty and cold.

Swallowing down the knot in your throat you walk into your bedroom and pull the damnable phone from it's hiding place. Your fingers are already shaking as you hold it, and you can feel tears rimming your eyes.

Terror lives on the other side of this phone, and despite that you cannot simply be rid of it. You can't toss it off the balcony, throw it down the trash, or crush it under foot. As foolish as it was, you couldn't shake the feeling that if you threw it away your father would break the door down and throw you off the balcony after it.

It was impossible for him to get into the tower, it was. It was. It had to be. You could - you could... you couldn't. You're just a doll, if your parents wanted to, they could expose the things they did. Sure they'd get in trouble, but you'd be taken from Thatch, and if you ended up back with your parents again-.

Automatically, with practice, you force the tears back and calm your nerves. No matter how much you didn't want to, you always did listen. You had to. They had done so much for you, sacrificed so much for you, it was the least you could do. The absolute least.

The bare minimum.

Two words.

Certainly you were a loving enough daughter to type two words. It was all they were asking for. Just to know when you were home alone. When it was okay for them to call. They'd been terribly rude to Thatch's father, so of course they wouldn't want to talk while Thatch was around.

You: I'm alone.

Your body lurches involuntarily after you hit send, and you nearly vomit on to the floor. Keeping it together for the second it takes to dash across the hall, you upend the tea you had while Thatch was getting ready this morning. It had been too early to try and eat, at least for what you were used to, and you were glad you'd decided to just skip it.

Heaving a couple more times, you have nothing left to give, and gag on the violent retching for a few minutes before your body finally settles. Sitting on the floor for a moment you wait until you feel steady and secure before getting back up on your feet. Washing your face you press a cold washcloth against your cheeks for a few moments, doing what you could to bring any swelling down from the earlier fit.

It would be hours before Thatch would be home, but being presentable all the time was something you did automatically.

You kept the phone nearby as you went about what little of a morning you could muster having, waiting for your parents' reply. You managed a second cup of tea and dry toast, and despite the nerves you still had bouncing around in your stomach you kept it down.

It was after 9am when your phone finally rang. You didn't want to answer it, but you didn't let it ring more than twice before you did.

"Good job, Doll." Your mother's voice came through the phone. It was almost a relief to hear it, and you weren't certain why. "You followed the instructions. I knew he was going to leave for work early, but I hadn't realized it would be that early. Do you know when he'll be home?"

"... No earlier than five." You answer after a moment, you should answer faster, you can't delay like that just because you don't want to tell them Thatch's schedule. "He... wants to try and come home for lunch, but he said he wouldn't be able to do so this week."

"Hm. Well, your father will be at the apartment tower in thirty minutes." She explains. "Wait for him out front."

With that said the phone goes dead, waiting for neither your confirmation, nor anything you might have to say. It was a good sign, it meant she knew you would listen. So she wasn't angry with you for your delay.

Setting the phone down you grab a quick shower, dress in a way that you know won't upset your father, and head down to the lobby. You didn't want to worry about keeping track of a purse, so you picked nice slacks with deep pockets, and a button up blouse.

You'd come in from the parking garage every time so far, so the lobby was a new experience. It looked more like a hotel lobby than a common area for apartments, but there were some small convenience style stores in the large open area.

Stepping out the front doors you pass a door man who gives you a nod and friendly wave. You return the gesture, smiling with practiced ease, noting the man's crisp uniform and bright white gloves. He looked like something between a security guard and a bellhop, but the pinwheel on the top of his cap was certainly unique. Despite not really looking like part of the standard uniform, it didn't seem out of place for him, and even more than that it looked endearing.

You only have to wait by the street for a moment before you see your father's car. He pulls up to the curb, and you open the door, seating yourself in the passenger seat. Once you're buckled in he pulls away without a word.

You won't speak unless spoken to, certainly not with your father, and it wouldn't matter what you asked. Obviously he was taking you somewhere, and since you weren't the one driving, you didn't need to know where it was. If there was anything you needed to know, he would've told you by now.

And so you sat quietly.

You didn't sit quietly for long, however, barely fifteen minutes later you seemed to be at your destination. Your father pulled into a place that looked more like a warehouse than it did a store front.

"Come on, doll." The words are almost irritated, but you don't think it's directed at you. You get out of the car as instructed, and follow just behind your father as he walks into the building.

It looks like a place that might be a store, or a repair shop, or just a warehouse. It smacks of something wrong and illegal, but you aren't sure exactly why. Only that there's something vaguely unofficial about the entire place, as though it's not really meant to be as permanent as the cinder block building it's located in.

"Is Akumai here?" Your father asks an older man with a white twisted headband. Scratching the stubble on his face, he flicks his eyes over you, grunts, and nods his head toward the back. Your father beckons you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the odd store. "Come on."

He weaves through the metal shelves easily, and you do your best to keep your eyes on him. You didn't want to confirm your suspicions about this place, all it'll do right now is make you more uncomfortable than you already are. If you threw up from nerves now, you might not have to worry about much else.

Walking through the network of shelves you come to a small, well, room isn't really a proper word for it, it's more like a clearing within the shelves. A man was seated at a desk with folders, papers, and an odd assortment of electronics you weren't familiar with. It was boxy, older looking technology, hooked up to a CCTV desktop that looked a bit like it should be in a museum.

The man himself is as unique as the items around him. His dark back hair, was styled into a pair of wings, pulled taut and heavily waxed into place. Even though he was clean shaven you got the impression he was more dangerous than the older man who was upfront.

"Hey, can you make a copy of a key card right now?" Your father asks. Your blood goes cold before the other even nods and you're already afraid of what's coming.

"Won't take but a minute." He promises, flashing a smile that makes your skin crawl.

"Good. Doll, give me your key card." Your father commands, reaching a hand out toward you without even looking.

You shake your head, it's almost imperceptible, but your hesitation is noted by your father. You take a step back and he grabs the back of your neck in an iron grip. Forcing you a step toward him he bends you back, keeping you off balance and trapped under his control.

"Give me the key card, doll." He repeats coldly. You can't bring yourself to say no, but when you press your lips together and a couple tears roll down your cheek your father doesn't need to hear the word to understand your defiance.

"Young lady, you will do as your father instructs or I will allow this gentleman to find the key card however he decides to do so."He promises you.

You can't stop the soft sob, but even as it escapes you, you pull your tower key from your pocket and hand it over. Your father takes it and pulls you backward before he lets you go, pulling you fully off balance and leaving you to fall to the concrete floor. Neither of your parents risked injuring you unless they were exceptionally livid - swelling and bruises would make for poor photos, and no one needed to know how they truly treated you.

You landed on your hip, barely catching yourself with a slap of your arm on the floor. You didn't know if you were relieved you weren't hurt worse, or frustrated that you weren't hurt enough that Thatch would notice no matter what. Even on the floor you weren't sure you could tell Thatch.

Talking about what your parents did was strictly forbidden. It was almost more important than The Plan.

"Copy this." He says, handing the card over to the other man, before looking down at you. "Get up, useless wretch. Fix your appearance before he's done."

Nodding you get to your feet carefully. "Yes father."

"Stupid thing. You should just do as instructed." He grumbles as you work to dust yourself off properly. "A few days with some stranger and you forget yourself. Bah. Defy me like that again, and I'll make sure he thinks you unfaithful.

"At least in prison I know you'll be disciplined properly." He grumbles.

"I'm sorry, father." You feel as small as your voice sounds, but your father seems satisfied.

"Here you go," Akumai says, handing two cards back to your father. "You said you didn't need it to look the same, so I didn't copy over the logo."

"That's fine." Your father pulls an envelope out of his breast pocket and hands it over. "Payment and the next request. Let me know after you've mulled it over."

"Certainly."

Your father pushes you ahead. "Come on, move it, Doll."

You stumble a couple steps but walk back through the shelves with your father at your back. He hands you your key card back before you reach the front of the store and then snaps for you to get back into the car. He's in the shop for a few minutes without you, and seems to be in a better mood when he gets into the car.

Pulling out of the parking lot he heads back to the apartment tower.

"Convince him to take you on a date." He states, barely even acknowledging that he's speaking to you. "Something long that's hard to leave. An opera or a concert or some other thing that would keep him out of the apartment and away from his phone. Once it's set - date and time - text us."

You're quiet, you don't want to say yes, but you're afraid to say no after earlier.

"Doll." He warns.

"Yes father." You respond.

"Good." He's quiet for a long moment, but the next words out of his mouth are a dagger to your heart. "Sweet on him already. You're such a fool, child. Well, it doesn't matter. If you think we've been unkind to you all these years, just remember he's not my flesh and blood.

"If I have to get my due from his bones, then -."

"No, I... I'll... I'll make sure. I will." You know as soon as the words are out of your mouth, and the smile on your father's face, that you should've stayed quiet. But it was too late now. "We'll be away for long enough, if... if not this weekend, then the next for sure."

"Good. Keep doing as you're told, and I won't do him any harm." He assures you, patting your leg almost warmly before pulling up to the tower. "Get cleaned up, if he comes home for lunch unexpectedly you don't want him asking questions."

"Yes father." You get out of the car, and by the time you reach the doors with the pinwheel hatted doorman, you have the same smile on your face that you had when you'd greeted him earlier.

If no one questioned anything, then Thatch wouldn't be hurt. As long as he wasn't hurt you didn't really care about anything else. He was a good person, a really, truly kind man with a good heart, and it was bad enough he got matched with you, but if you could keep him safe, then that would be enough.

The question you didn't know the answer to was if your parents meant to simply steal everything in the apartment, or if they meant to do something else. Considering the trouble they were going through, it seemed more likely there was something else going on. The amount of money they'd get from Thatch's stuff was too small for how they spoke.

They wanted to be set for life. That would mean getting at something far more substantial. But you couldn't sort out how access to Thatch's apartment would get them any closer. They'd shown interest in Pops' business and wealth, but the bakery was separate, and while it was successful, as far as you knew it was nothing compared to Whitebeard Shipping and Trade.

After getting cleaned up you sat in the living room. You made something to eat around lunch time out of habit more than a sense of hunger, and then you continued to simply sit in the living room and look out the balcony window.

You'd never been home alone before, and you quickly realized you didn't know what to do.