Steven's POV:

Hell cat, you're not okay... What the fuck am I doing? I don't give a rats ass about this girl.

She stares at me with wide eyes, shocked half to death by my statement. Which is rather ridiculous since it's pretty damn obvious she's anything but fine.

I notice my hands are placed firmly on her cheeks and quickly rip them away. Her head dips a bit as if they were resting in my palms and to say I'm currently mind fucked is an understatement. I don't know what's going on with me, but I sure as hell know that I don't like it one bit.

Within a matter of seconds her features change, eyes becoming lifeless before replying, "Does it really matter? It's nothing you haven't done before".

What the actual fuck?

I raise my brow for her to elaborate her accusation, a sign she best knows to understand loud and clear. There's no way I'm going to waste my breath begging her to continue.

A loud sigh escapes her. "The threats, the abuse. I've survived your torture so far. So anything this place has to throw my way, I'm sure I can-" she continues as she leans her head back against the wall.

"Well fuck you too." I reply as I get up, cutting off her words, not bothered to hear the rest of her shit. Looks like I've caught her off guard a second time. Her eyes bounce with shock before dimming back down.

Here I thought saving her life would place some gratitude in that skull of hers or at least place us both on solid ground. A truce if you would, but I guess not. This is why I don't do 'good deeds'. They get you nowhere.

"Why do you suddenly care anyway?" she questions while attempting to cross her legs, but fail miserably. Peggy mentioned she might need a few hours of physiotherapy. Not that I care.

Hell, she's the person I care for the least in this place. It's not my fault I ended up in her room. But that's something she doesn't need to know.

Or I could simply tell her and walk out, carry on with my day. Getting this over and done with is starting to sound more promising by the minute.

"Hello?", I notice a hand being waved from below, "You still in there?" 

It doesn't take much to figure I zoned out for a few seconds. Neither does it take long to figure out that I need to leave. I've spent more time than needed in her presence and any longer will make me sick.

"Steven?" hell cat continues, staring up at me with those dull brown eyes. She's not going to stop until I answer her.

So either I tell her or I don't.

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Vivian's POV:

Steven opens his mouth, yet words fail to fall from it. He looks conflicted as if battling to withhold himself from spilling his guts. 

"Listen, I don't think-"

"Hey I just got paged to help you with-... What's going on here?" Frank interrupts and I'm deeply tempted to strangle him.

"None of your business, his over there." Steven quickly interjects and points to Michael, giving me no time to think of a response. Which I'm relieved about since no believable reasoning came to mind.

'It's nothing, Steven and I simply got caught in a deep and civil conversation', yeah I don't think so. Even I don't believe it.

Frank simply shrugs his shoulders and walks over to where Michael's body lies plastered to the floor. Following him inside my room are three of the four guards I saw last time out in the hallway and confusion strikes me.

"Each one grab a limb," Frank speaks up and I have to stop myself from bursting with laughter.

Frank must have known beforehand that Michael would be out cold. How he did so heaven alone knows. But to know he brought back-up to drag Michael's corpse out of here is enough to tickle my stomach.

The four of them each grab a limb and start to lift Michael from the ground. The sight of it has laughter building up in the back of my throat and I'm forced to bite on my tongue to silence myself.

Don't you dare! Vivian, I swear-... Jess warns.

I won't, I won't okay... I respond, biting even harder.

My eyes refuse to peel away from the motion before me. So much that at this particular point I'm unaware of Steven's whereabouts. I know that he hasn't left the room, but couldn't be any less bothered to take the time to seek him out.

I take a closer glance towards the bunch of brawny men as they begin to walk Michael to exit the room.

The veins can be seen popping out one of the guards arms as they begin to walk. Another's neck strains to the side as he clenches his teeth. The third seems to be doing rather well as he has both hands wrapped around Michael's arm. All the while Frank holds a stoic persona as if carrying Michael with ease, but his lack of breathing tells a different story.

A pig squealing snort escapes me as I ask, "Is his dead weight a tad bit much?"

As if the universe was listening in on my humour, one of the guards foot gets hooked in the mix of the sprawling chains. Not knowing his destructive fate, he takes another step forward and lands straight into the nearest wall. He lets go of Michael in the process, resulting in his head crashing to the floor, which only set off a chain reaction.

Like a house of cards, the whole lot comes tumbling down and in that split second, I lose all self-control. Volume bearing belly laughs echoes throughout the room and all eyes are quickly on me. I find myself clenching onto my stomach for dear life as my body shakes from laughter.

"Someone shut that bitch up!" one of them bellows as they try to rise to their feet.

Ignoring the big bad wolves outcry, the laughter continues to pour from me like speakers set on maximum volume. Within seconds my throat decides to act up and a coughing frenzy begins.

Both a scratching and burning irritation accompanies the coughs and I'm quick to realize the need to compose myself is urgent or I could end up getting hurt. As I not only came out of a coma over a day ago but also recently got my speech in order.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Steven questions as he steps in front of me, blocking my view from a live comedy show happening directly behind him. 

My coughing now coming to an end.

I stare up at him not knowing how to address his current mood shift. He continues by saying, "You do understand that they're doing you a favor by removing him from your room, but if you prefer to do it by yourself then so be it!"

Just like that, with a flip of a switch, my mood plummets. A cloud of despondency grows above me and I feel like sinking back into the sheets.

I warned you not to!... Jess blares in my head.

I know...

I wonder if I should say something back to Steven. To try and wiggle my way out of this. Or simply remain sitting here staring and hope he adds more dialogue to the situation.

And you said you wouldn't!... Jess continues, clearly not letting this go.

I know, but-...

"Well men, you heard the man," Frank speaks up to whom I assume are his invasive companions. Steven turns around, his attention now on Frank and I'm able to see the whole lot again. All four are back in their original positions, holding a limb each. Frank drops Michael's arm to the ground before saying, "She's removing the trash by herself. So let's go."

Watching the movement before me, the rest of them follow suit by placing Michael back onto the ground and my jaw drops. Do they honestly expect me to drag his corpse out of here by myself when the four of them combined can barely maintain?

"You're not being serious."

"Oh, but I am."

"He's a ton of bricks! There's no possible way I'll be able to move him."

"I'm sure you'll manage just fine," Frank replies, the deceptiveness easily detectable. 

Humour lingers in his features, yet it's irritation that plays in his eyes, "If you struggle, simply laugh it off. Seems to be what you're good at."

Of all people, I've pissed Frank off?... The things I manage to do in this place.

Barely over 2 weeks ago, my seemly life-threatening concern was getting caught throwing laxative in the staff's soup. Jessica made it a near impossible task with her nagging fear breathing down my neck. Which was enough to drive any already fear struck individual mad.

Not too long ago my heart was set on escaping this place, to find my way back home. A determination set so high, that no amount of bruises, scars nor verbal insults could drag me down.

Yet here I am, already have accepted my fate in this new strange world and have adapted to incidental surroundings. With a seemly life-threatening concern of how to remove a deceased robust mammoth from my bedroom.

"And where exactly should I dump him if doing so?"

"Not my problem."

My jaw hangs agape as Frank turns to exit, the rest following in his footsteps. Michael lies sprawled across the floor, wearing the chains as a scarf wrapped around his neck. The blood still trickling from the wounds I inflicted on his forearms.

Turning to Steven for assistance in the matter I ask, "Are you really going to let them just leave without taking that thing out?". There's truly no way I'm getting out of bed only to struggle my butt off simply for a Michael. 

I won't waste my energy to such extremes.

"That thing happens to be your problem to fix. You had help coming and fucked it up. So deal with it," he finishes and soon begins to march his way towards the exit.

That's messed up...

I was only laughing, there's certainly no crime in that. These stuck up boneheads simply don't appreciate my sense of humor. Anyone would have tumbled over with laughter had they witnessed it for themselves.

Needing to find a way to bring caring Steven back and lighten the tension, I decide to say, "Come on, you can't tell me that it wasn't in the slightest bit funny."

He stops abruptly and rotates the top half of his body towards me. Nostrils flare as eyes squint. It's clear he's no happy man. "Hell cat, learn your lane and stay in it". Soon after he's out the door.

Knowing Michael's corpse will wither and rot if left right here, not to mention stink up the entire place, I begin to call after Steven. There's no way that my room's turning into a morgue. During my call for his return, I get cut off as a voice blares throughout the hallway.

"Frank!" Steven yells out.

The outcry lasts for only a few seconds, then gets followed by complete and utter silence. Not being able to see through the walls of my bedroom, I sit and wait in anticipation for what's to happen next.

Soon footsteps can be heard, great plenty of them which seem to be growing louder by the second. I close my eyes and focus my hearing on the chatter that's begun.

"If she so much as makes one more sound, I'm dragging her to the basement," an unfamiliar voice expresses.

At the mention of the basement my heart rate spikes and panic sets in. The memories of my time down there with each punishment flood forward and I press my hands to my head as if to stop them from replying.

"You'll fucking do no such thing," Steven counters back and I'm left startled.

"She's my responsibility. Therefore I'll do it myself. Finish what you originally came to do and get back to your post. Understood?" he questions and a vexing huff can be heard from the other.

Unsure of whether to be grateful or worried I sit back and continue to listen in on their banter. However, the one thing I do know is that it's time to keep my mouth shut should they come back in.

Not long after, they come to an agreement and one by one they enter with Steven hot on their tails. Same as before, each grab a limb and they begin to walk to the door. The struggle still equally difficult, but less amusing as a thread of guilt seeps through my emotions.

Frank spares a glance towards me while walking and I'm tempted to apologize, but choose against it not wanting to risk going to the basement again. Especially by the hands of Steven.

Once they exit and disappear around the corner, Steven grabs onto the handle of the door as to close it while he leaves. "Thank you," I say before he gets the chance to do to so.

Unsure if that was enough of thanks I continue speaking, "for stopping Michael. I still can't believe he went as far as to try and remove my gown. Heaven alone knows what would have happened if you weren't here". 

At the mention of the occasion, a look flashes in his eyes, but I can't tell whether it's a concern, fear, familiarity or memory that struck him.

Not thinking much of it I continue, "And thanks for bringing Frank them back. I wouldn't have been able to get rid of Michael by myself and yeah. Thanks".

This must be the guilt talking. Regardless of events, no sane person should be thanking their kidnapper. Oh well...

"Go shower."

"What?"

"You stink. Go shower."

"I give you a whole thank you speech and your response is for me to go shower?"

A cold blank stare is all I receive in return and I feel like throwing something at that face of his. Without a word, he starts to pull the door close and I find myself almost speechless at his actions and current behavior. Which oddly enough became worse after I thanked him for being my undercover knight in rusty armor.

"Why are you acting so cold towards me? You were concerned about me not too long ago now you're back to being your usual prick self."

"Hell cat, I don't fucking care! I only came to do my job. Which was to stop Michael and make sure you're okay. Now that I'm done, I'm leaving. Look for sympathy from your fucking doctor."

With those words said he slams the door shut.