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Mikey's P.O.V:
After what must've been a few days, Gerard was starting to get better. Or at least, he wasn't puking any more. Every time the tatooed man had came in, he'd cleaned up Gerard's vomit, but the smell still lingered. The tatooed man had unlocked a door that neither of us had noticed at the side of the room. It was a small room, about the size of a cleaning supplies closet and it contained a toilet. It was filthy and unhygenic, but it was all we had. It didn't always flush properly, so the room smelled simply vile.

I was supposed to be sleeping when the tatooed man came in again. "He sleeping?" He asked Gee, gruffly.

"Yeah - and he's pretty exhausted, so I'd kinda like to keep it that way," Gee whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," The man chuckled. "So how you feeling, beautiful?"

"I asked you to stop calling me that," I could tell Gee was speaking through gritted teeth.

"Look, beautiful, I call the shots round here, not you," I heard the sound of a slap. "I asked you something, didn't I?"

"I'm fine," Gee coughed.

"That little rash of yours is clearing up nicely," The man observed.

"Look, can you stop doing this? You'll already upsetting Mom and Dad enough as it is. Must you do this to us?"

"Fuck you, beautiful, I'll do whatever I want," The man laughed.

"Well, at least stop hurting Mikey," He begged. "He's only young - he can't take it."

"He's taller than you," The man said.

"So? He's fourteen. Leave him alone... anything you want to do to him... just do it to me. Please," Gee sounded as if he might be crying.

"I'll think about it," The man told him. "I'll see you later, beautiful." And then I heard the door slam.

I was glad it was dark and Gerard couldn't see the tears of gratitude leaking out from behing my closed eyelids.