Trigger Warnings: INJURY, BLOOD, SEXUAL ASSAULT, ABUSE, VIOLENCE, VOMIT, sorry sorry sorry but this is the worst of it I promise 

Sometime after ten minutes, Remington had to stop walking and sit on a bench nearby to work through the growing pain in his stomach that was getting so bad he could barely breathe without it sending a stabbing pain through his torso. He was trying not to cry, but his defences were crumbling and tears were welling to the surface. 

He was out of the house, though. That was the important thing. He had made it out the house. 

After a few minutes of desperately willing the pain away, Remington stood, using the bench to stabilise himself, and continued. He still didn't know where he was but he wouldn't give up. Someone had to notice, surely someone would notice, but there was no one around. He was in a business estate, so passers by were rare, and no one had seen him since he left the house. Besides, it was early. People weren't out yet.

He wrapped his arms around himself and made himself take long, strong strides, teeth clenched. Then, at the end of the street, a sign became visible through a clump of tree branches; Men Wear Pink, The Headquarters.

Remington could have laughed out of relief. 

It took two-hundred and nine steps to reach the gate that was locked with a keycode. Remington counted them in an attempt to make it more manageable, to give himself something to focus on that wasn't the burning his his stomach. He had forgotten about the wound at the top of his spine. 

This was as far as his plan went. He hadn't though of how he'd get in, or what would be the use of it if Andy wasn't there. And even if he was, who was to say he'd help? Maybe he had already signed something to break up the marriage and knew exactly where he had been taken. 

There was a buzzer on the gate, so he pressed it and a fuzzy voice came through the small speaker, asking who it was. Remington spoke through his teeth. "I need help," he said. 

"Who is this?" The voice asked. 

"I need help. Please." 

"What's wrong?" 

Remington ground his teeth and sucked air through his teeth. "Please," he begged. "Please. Help." 

"Someone will be right out," the voice said. Then the light on the buzzer went off and he was alone.

The person that came into view was Gregory, wearing a security uniform with 'Men Wear Pink Security' embroidered onto the left pocket. Remington turned and ran, but everything in his body protested, and he lost footing, stumbled, and fell, scraping his hands and knees with the landing. He scrambled to get up, but Gregory had caught up and was grabbing him, pulling him back. Remington screamed and kept screaming until a hand was pressed over his mouth.

He didn't know what was worse - that Gregory worked for Andy or that Andy had hired Gregory. 

A punch to the stomach made Remington yell in agony. It was followed by a spluttering cough that brought up the breakfast he'd forced down, and the last thing he felt was satisfaction at knowing Gregory had been covered in vomit. 

When he woke, he was back in the cupboard with the mattress, and his back was wet with blood. He realised Gregory must have shoved the tracker back into him. He couldn't even cry. 

The day was long. He wasn't given any food, not that he could have kept it down, and lay without fighting as Gregory shouted at him, told him how stupid he'd been, how silly it was to try and escape when they were married. No one would help, that's what he kept saying; "You're mine. Everyone knows you're mine. They won't help you. That's not how it works. Stupid, stupid boy." 

Then Gregory kneed him in the gut and he was too weak to make more than a groaning sound, and if he could have, he would have asked Gregory to kill him. He didn't want to endure anymore, couldn't endure anymore. It had only been a month. How did people do this for years upon years? How did anyone survive this? And how was this now legal? How had this been made to be normal? 

The sex was the worst it had been, but Remington was too exhausted to pay much attention, and he passed out some point before Gregory had finished. He didn't know if he'd ever wake, and he didn't want to.