Chapter 5:

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, creating a soft glow across the room. Aaron blinked as he slowly recovered from the effect of the sleeping drug. Every muscle in him felt stiff and sore like he'd slept for years. He looked around through bleary eyes, something in his depth hoping that maybe, just maybe, everything that had happened before was not true. But the wooden bars around him said otherwise.

He was in the crib, he realized, his heart beats suddenly picking up. He tried to think of how they even kidnapped him, but nothing came to mind—no random images of someone attacking him or trying to drug him. The last thing he remembered was being at home, then any attempt to think of what happened next made his mind haze. How was that even possible?

With an elbow propped against the mattress for support, Aaron pulled his upper-body forward, cringing when he felt his shoulder pop. He clutched a bar with a shaky hand and began shifting to his knees, but he froze when a flash of shining metal caught the edge of his vision.

There was a fitting bracelet around his wrist, one he hadn't noticed before. It  was silver—the pure, expensive kind that shined delectably beneath the light.

He neared his wrist to his eyes, squinting when he noticed that there was something carved onto it. It read, to his horror: Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Lou, Aaron, and Leo, written with a relatively small and cursive font, a dash between each name and an infinity sign at the end of the chain.

The hair on the back of Aaron's neck bristled. His stomach tensed against the contents. He desperately swallowed down the bile, the acidity searing the base of his throat. He couldn't put it in words how creepy he'd found it—how far were they drowning in their fantasy, that they bought him an expensive silver bracelet with all names on it?

He knew he was panicking too much when he ran out of breath even though he wasn't even exerting the slightest physical effort. His compressed lungs screamed for a proper intake of air; he breathed out, shoulders relaxing along.

Stay calm.

He clutched the bars again with both his hands and forced himself to his feet, staggering at the dizziness that knocked his vision momentarily. As soon as he recovered, he studied the room, relaxing slightly when he realized the captors weren't currently there. His eyes fell upon the veiled window. For a second he wondered if he could jump out through it, but then he quickly dismissed the idea.

  Impossible. What kind of captor would make it so easy for the captive to flee? The window had to be locked or something, he realized, but he still wanted to take a look, because he needed to figure out where he was. He could try to climb out of the crib, and just take a peek, but he hesitated, because he knew the captors might enter any second—

Aaron flinched when the door suddenly creaked open and Daddy appeared, his face bright and welcoming as he stalked closer to the crib. Smiling like a creep, he bent down and brought Aaron up to his hip, running his free hand through the messy black locks and neatening them along. Daddy realized his baby needed a bath, but he decided to do that later.

"Good morning, love. Somebody was staring at the window, huh?" Daddy asked, one eyebrow cocked in mock accusation. He walked with him to it and pulled the curtains aside, revealing along metallic bars through which Aaron could see a large landscape thickly strewn with long trees. He didn't recognize the place, but he knew that there wasn't somewhere similar anywhere near where he'd been living. "It's locked too. I know what you were thinking, baby, but we're smarter than letting you run out of a window."

Aaron was suddenly glad he never even tried to get out of the crib. He would've gotten caught red handed—if he'd managed to climb over the long bars of his crib, that was—and perhaps undergone another punishment. He shuddered at the thought; the spanking might have been tolerable, but he really never wanted to go through it again.

"And don't ever think of getting out of the crib on your own, love, or out of anything I put you in. That's another rule and breaking it would make Daddy really angry," the captor warned, a gentle smile betraying the authoritative finality of his voice. Aaron nodded nervously. "Now let's go have breakfast. You must be hungry, right?"

Daddy bounced his baby in his arms, then walked out of the room and stepped into a wide corridor, to its far left a staircase that led down. He headed towards it, but before he could set foot on the first concrete rung, the slightest whimper came from Aaron's throat.

Eyes wide and heart pounding, Aaron stared down at the set of stairs that seemed a lot steeper than it actually was. He knew that he was heavier than an actual baby, that there was a good chance they'd end up tumbling down the stairs until he'd possibly break his leg. He'd become physically dependent on these psychos, and escaping would become a fantasy.

"No way," Aaron protested quietly. "Please put me down, we're gonna fall this way."

Daddy maintained assuring eye contact with his baby. "Never, baby. I'd never let you fall. Nothing will hurt you as long as you're with us, trust me."

Aaron stared back, only for a little. But in the short process he thought of how satisfying it would be to punch Daddy in the face, yell: I'm not your baby, dumbass, and run. Except that his punch wasn't remotely powerful, and he had two other captors awaiting.

When Daddy took the first step, Aaron closed his eyes worriedly and curled an arm around his neck for stability, his fingers subconsciously clawing into his shoulder—as much as he hated touching him, his safety came as priority.

Daddy chuckled quietly at his baby's death grip. Why is he so worried? he wondered. He began walking down the staircase carefully, whispering gentle assurances into Aaron's ear as he did, his arms tight and protective around his baby's body.

It turned out not quite as horrid as Aaron had imagined, because it wasn't too long before they were at the end of the staircase, safe and sound. Eyelids fluttering closed with relief, he exhaled. But then he noticed where his hand was settled and he quickly pulled it back, grimacing as he stared at his fingers. He shouldn't have willingly touched that sick man.

Daddy walked with Aaron to the kitchen. It seemed modern, with all the furniture either black or white, the floor tiles polished concrete and the walls an immaculate white. The observation was going well, but that was until Aaron's eyes fell upon two adult-sized high chairs, one in which Leo was seated and he seemed content, his thin legs swinging excitedly from where they hung down the openings.

Daddy one-handedly unhinged the tray of the second chair and tried placing his baby in it, but his wiry arms remained curled tightly around his neck. He loved that his baby was clinging to him, but breakfast wasn't the time to cuddle. So Daddy gently pried Aaron's fingers off and strapped him in the chair, keeping a restraining hand on his stomach to keep him motionless as he did.

Aaron found the plastic between his legs extremely uncomfortable. He tried unstrapping himself, but Daddy was quick to stop him, gripping the armrests of the chair as he hunched over the tray until his forehead needed just a prod to collide with Aaron's.

"Baby," Daddy hissed, brown eyes flaring, "don't ever do that again."

Aaron's breath caught in his throat; his lungs stopped functioning as the captor's breath replaced the air around, and he refused to inhale any of it. Every muscle in him tensed and his chest remained stoic, unmoving, like he wasn't breathing. The dude apparently hadn't been joking when he said it would make him really angry.

Daddy glared at him straight in the eyes, repeating sharply, "Never."

"I'm sorry," Aaron whispered, his voice timid and shaky. He thought he was going to get punished again, but Daddy's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, a soft smile gracing his lips and admiring twinkles refilling his eyes. He ruffled his baby's hair, then turned away, whispering I'm sorry I scared you as he did, so quietly that Aaron almost didn't catch it.

Mommy turned from where she'd been working on the counter and walked up behind Aaron's chair. Splaying a palm on the side of his neck, she leant down and pecked his cheek.

Aaron gasped as the warmth of her lips connected with his skin, dark brows subconsciously raising for a second before dropping down again in an inconspicuous distasteful frown. When she pulled away, he fought against the urge to wipe the traces of her lips off his cheek. He controlled himself and maintained his unresponsive behavior.

"Good morning, baby," Mommy said as she moved to the front and placed a bowl of oatmeal on her baby's tray. She began tying a dark red bib that was shaped like a bandana around his neck, frowning when he flinched and brought his hand up to grab at it disbelievingly.

A high chair and now a bib. Where was this going? Aaron wanted to rip it off, but Daddy's distant, threatening stare had him frozen obediently.

Mommy said, "Why don't you like it baby? It's red, dark red. One of your favorite colors."

Aaron's head suddenly whipped towards her, grey eyes wide with terror. "H-How do you know that?" he asked, his heart beating so loudly in his ear that he could hardly hear anything over it. Mommy tilted her head, her brows creased. "I mean, how do you know that I like red?"

"Now I know," she answered, bursting softly into hearty laughter, her index finger reaching out to tap his nose. Aaron stilled, his eyes set in a calculating stare as he mulled over the situation. His slender shoulders shuddered when a horrific passing thought occupied his mind, but he quickly dismissed the idea just so he wouldn't panic. Mommy pulled a chair closer to him and sat with a plastic spoon held in her hand. Plastic utensils, Aaron thought. Really? "Come on, let's eat."

She scooped a spoonful of the oatmeal and neared it her baby's lips, but he turned away from it, and his eyes accidentally fell upon Leo.

"Brother," Leo mumbled, smiling shyly. Aaron just stared, his face devoid of emotion as he comprehended the voice he'd just heard; it was oddly soft and babyish, in a way that shouldn't be for a boy Leo's age and size. What was up with him?

"Baby, open up," Mommy demanded, forcing the spoon into his mouth. Aaron accepted it, but his focus returned to Leo when he heard loud giggling. Daddy was playfully aiming the tip of the spoon to hit Leo's nose rather than his mouth while feeding him, and that had him giggling childishly, teeth exposed and blue eyes twinkling with excitement. The outer scene was a perfect display of a cute father-son relationship, but that was until you register the fact that a teen was put to replace a baby.

Aaron stared, his mouth slightly agape. "Why does he act that way?" he asked quietly, turning to look at Mommy. For a second he cursed himself for asking such a stupid question, but then he relaxed when she didn't seem exactly angered. "Wait, he- he's not your child, right? I mean, he's kidna—" If Aaron could slam his head into the tray, he wouldn't mind. He didn't know how the hell he'd word this without offending anyone and triggering some sort of psycho reaction. "—taken. Yeah. Taken? Is he?"

Taken. Mommy was disappointed with his choice of words. She knew what he meant with that and it hurt but she swallowed past the lump burning in her throat, blinking away the tears stinging covertly at the back of her eyes. Her baby considered them kidnappers. He considered her a captor. When was he going understand?

"No, love, both of you are not kidnapped or taken or whatever." She calmly tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "We just adopted you both. Let's not bring that up again. Now eat."

Aaron had a strong inclination to snort. He wondered if they genuinely considered this adoption. But he was glad she confirmed his natural assumption; Leo was indeed kidnapped as well, yet Aaron just didn't understand why he behaved so strangely. As far as he'd seen, the boy almost acted like a real infant.

Aaron allowed only a few more spoonfuls before declaring he was full, turning away from the spoon when Mommy tried feeding him more afterwards. That quickly caught Daddy's attention. Leo pouted disappointedly as he watched him drop the spoon and walk to Aaron's chair.

"Maybe I should feed him." Daddy brushed a hand against Aaron's temple, letting his fingers trace down the edge of his cheek, a gentle gesture that concealed threat. "You have to eat."

Aaron's heart dropped, but then everyone was abruptly distracted when the youngest captor walked into the kitchen.

"Easy there on him," Lou mocked, gently scratching the back of Aaron's head as he passed by him. Aaron tipped his chin up slightly and frowned. He willed himself with all his power to keep his mouth closed and the curses in his head. All this touching needed to stop. "Don't pressure him. If he's full, he's full."

Daddy sighed, nodding in defeat. As much as he hated to admit, Aaron was actually glad Lou had interfered. At least he got Daddy to give up. He relaxed into his seat slightly, but quickly tensed again when he felt a distinctive, familiar pressure in his lower abdomen. Specifically his bladder. It wasn't the time for that, it really wasn't.

Aaron flinched when he felt something cold and wet rub against his lips. Lou continued wiping his mouth, smiling fondly at his disgruntled expression. His baby had the cutest reactions ever. "Let's go get dressed. It's a little cold, isn't it?" he asked as he unhinged the tray and removed the straps and the bib, then carefully set Aaron on his hip.

"Can I walk, please?" Aaron said, his grey eyes staring helplessly at the captor. He'd already realized that thrashing wasn't getting him anywhere, so he figured that maybe, just maybe, if he asked politely, he'd be put down.

Lou pinched his baby's cheek affectionately. "Thanks for using your manners, but no, I don't want to get your little legs tired."

Baby talk and gestures; Aaron groaned internally.

Lou carried him upstairs to the nursery, where he rummaged through the closet until he finally decided to put him in a black turtle neck sweater and some sweatpants. Aaron was slightly relieved he wasn't about to be dressed in a hideous baby attire, as minor and unimportant as it was.

Lou set him on the armchair and pulled the sweater over his head, carefully guiding his arms through the sleeves. He was about to put him in the pants, but he stared thoughtfully instead. "I'll leave out the pants. You look so cute in just a pull-up and a sweater."

Cute? Aaron wanted to throw up. Maybe even right in Lou's face just to spite him. How was a teen in a pull-up cute? It was so creepy; the way they acted so casually and seemed so sane while doing something horrifically insane.

Lou carried him to a room right next the nursery. It didn't take a lot of observation for Aaron to realize what it was; in fact, none at all. It was obviously a playroom—its walls a soothing creamy beige color and the floor carpeted entirely with a colorful rug; the surface was thick and fluffy, and Aaron's toes could easily sink in there a little.

There was a small white table on one side of the room and shelves lined with books and art supplies beside it. Stuffed animals and toys were scattered all around, and Aaron assumed they once belonged to the big bin settled aside. A light blue bean bag was set in the corner. Aaron tried not to, but he looked at everything in awe. The toys didn't interest him at that age, but they just reminded him of how much he had missed as a child. He never had toys.

Bruises were all he had.

Aaron gasped inaudibly when someone skipped past them. "Come play," Leo said, his hand stretched out to him.

Aaron firstly noticed that his pronunciation was slightly weird. He didn't know what the matter was with that boy; whether he was brainwashed or forced to act like that, but either way, it became a moral obligation to save him as well. He decided not to decline the offer and held Leo's hand from his place in Lou's arms, quickly sensing how soft his skin was.

Lou smiled and set Aaron on his feet. Leo tugged at Aaron's hand demandingly as he plopped himself onto the rug. Aaron sat down next to him, only because he wanted to maintain a good relation with him. They needed each other to escape. Even though he'd originally planned not to show interest in anything, Aaron couldn't help but rub the bottom of his feet against the soft rug. He smiled slightly.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Lou asked, gently ruffling his hair. Aaron wanted to move his head away from his hand, but he decided against it. For now he had to go with the flow and try not to do anything stupid, at least until he'd figure out how he'd escape and save Leo along.

Lou settled cross-legged between both his babies. "So, what do you want to play?"

There was silence for a brief moment, but then Leo smiled, pointing a finger at Aaron. "You choose."

Aaron fidgeted uncomfortably when he realized that both males were staring at him with anticipation. He was eighteen; he had zero interest in playing with toys, or anything at that. The only thing he really wanted to do, he suddenly realized, was to speak to Leo alone, but Lou ruined it with his presence.

Lou hummed thoughtfully before speaking, "How about we draw?"

Leo seemed to find everything exciting, so he quickly crawled over to the shelves, but was gently halted when Lou's arm hooked around his abdomen and dragged him back; his knees and palms scraped against the soft rug as he was forced backwards, and he giggled, surrendering to the overpowering strength until his was back on Lou's lap.

"I thought Aaron must choose," Lou told Leo. "You forgot to ask him, baby. What if he doesn't want to?"

"Want to draw?" Leo stared at Aaron intently, large blue eyes wide and imploring. Aaron found the way Leo didn't use full statements creepy, but more importantly, he was fascinated with the way he appeared so distinctively innocent: the way his smile was so wide and infectious, his large doe eyes so hopeful and passionate in their depth—like a child who still believed that life was all sweet and candy. It almost seemed like Leo wasn't even aware about the horrendous situation.

Seemed: that was the keyword. Aaron remembered the bruises on his body; Leo was forced to act that way. He couldn't be absolutely sure, but out of all the possible options, being forced was the most logical.

A finger tapped Aaron's shoulder impatiently, jarring him out of his thoughts. He looked back at the owner, and he nodded when he was met with a set of curious blue eyes. "Um, okay, let's draw," Aaron said.

Leo turned to face Lou, then raised an eyebrow and stuck his tongue out daringly, blue eyes twinkling with childish mischief. Lou's jaw slackened like he'd been offended. "That's very naughty, Leo," he chided. But his feigned strictness failed when he didn't manage to stifle an amused chuckle. Leo suddenly pouted.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Lou," Leo said as he curled his arms around his neck and nuzzled into his collar bone. Lou hugged him back, pressing his lips onto the crown of his head as he tickled his side.

Aaron watched with his mouth half-agape; he felt genuinely sorry that Leo was possibly forced to be this intimate with them, but he was abruptly distracted when he heard the echo of a voice calling Lou.

Lou gently pulled Leo away from him, turning his head towards the door. "Daddy's calling me. I'll be right back. You draw and when I return, I want to see the masterpieces."

Lou brought the supplies for his babies and placed them on the table, ruffling their hair before walking out of the door, closing it behind and possibly locking it, Aaron realized when he heard a faint click.

Leo held a pencil and began sketching passionately, unlike Aaron, who just dragged his along the blank space nonchalantly, giving himself a minute to make sure Lou had gone.

"Finally," Aaron whispered, dropping his pencil. "Leo?"

Brilliant blue clashed with metallic grey.

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hello! so happy that I didn't have to edit anything out of this chapter lol. Thank you for reading!