​CONTENT WARNINGS:

​Chronic Pain & Physical Disability

​Panic Attack/Hyperventilation

Body Horror (The Generator’s "Cry")

​Blood & Metallic Scents

​Phobia: Being Watched

​It’s been a couple of hours. I see it’s 4 PM, getting close to the Flip. I wonder what Colton is doing; I haven't seen him all day.

​"Hey, Bane, do you think everything will be fine?" I ask. He purrs loud and deep in his monster tone. I guess that’s a yes. I laugh a little. Then, I hear a loud cry followed by a heavy thump.

​"What... the fuck?" I whisper.

​The lights begin to flicker and then go dark. "That’s not good," I whisper. Colton walks in fast, his footsteps echoing. "We need to fill the generator, little mouse. Let’s go," he says in his boss tone.

​"Okay," I whisper. I limp over to the hallway where his office is—the place where Luz calls and where our sleeping quarters are. I see an old, heavy, rusted metal door. He opens it with ease. Shit, he is so strong, I think to myself.

​"Be careful, Matthan. There are stairs. See? Bane stays. He doesn't like it down here," Colton says. I wonder why. I start the descent, and my hip immediately starts to jolt with fiery pain. "Shit," I hiss.

​"We’re almost there," Colton says.

​"I’ll do this for you next time, okay?" he adds. I nod. Is that him being kind, or is he saying I’m weak? I see a door with NO ENTERING scrawled across it.

​"Don't open that door," Colton warns.

​"Okay," I say softly.

​He sighs. "It’s better for you to never know what is in there, okay?"

​We finally reach the old generator. It’s covered in rust, and the basement smells musky and damp. "Okay, it’s low. Need to fill it," Colton says. He hands me an old blue gas tank. I grab it, but he doesn't let go immediately. His grip is unhumanly strong. I look into his eyes—they are steady, unblinking.

​"Listen, little one. Don't ask what this oil is. You understand?" he says, his voice firm.

​I nod. "It’s better you don't know," he says, releasing the tank. "Here. This is where you fill it."

​I open the can and guide the nozzle in. Immediately, a powerful scent of metallic iron hits my nose. Then, I hear it—a muffled cry. My heart stops. I look at Colton. The sound came from inside the generator.

​"Don't pay attention to it. Just fill the generator, kid," he says strictly.

​Colton watches the machine like he’s waiting for something. A low growl rumbles from the metal casing. What the fuck is that? "Okay, it’s full. Let’s get going," he says calmly, taking the blue can back. I look down and realize my hands are covered in a dark red liquid. The iron smell is so strong it makes me feel sick.

​I glance back at the forbidden door. I feel it again—that sensation of eyes on me. My heart starts pounding so fast I feel like I'm hyperventilating. The door begins to move, creaking open. I can't move. Shit, move! Just as the door is about to swing wide, Colton slams it shut with a violent bang. "Stop right now! I told you to leave him alone!" he bellows. He looks furious, his face twisted with a rare anger. Then he looks at me, and his expression softens instantly.

​"Matthan, go upstairs to the sleeping quarters. I’ll be there in a minute. Everything is fine. Okay?"

​I limp up the stairs as fast as I can, my hip screaming in protest. At the top, I find Bane. "Hey, Bane," I pant. He purrs and rubs against my leg, as if he's telling me I did a good job.

​I make it to the sleeping quarters, still shaking, the smell of iron clinging to my skin. My hip hurts so bad I collapse onto one of the beds—I don't even check whose it is. I can't catch my breath. Calm down. Don't have a panic attack.

​A large, warm hand gently pats my head. It's Colton. He has that sweet expression back. "Breathe, my little Marshmallow," he says quietly.

​"I... can't," I wheeze.

​"Shhhh, it’s okay. You did so well for me down there," he says, leaning closer. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then I’ll give you a reward for doing such a good job."

​I nod, leaning into his touch.