After a few weeks, the days bled together and all of them looked and felt exactly the same. The only thing that hinted at the passage of time was the weather; sometimes the sun shone down on Blue, warming his skin and deepening the rich tan that was now taking over Blue's typically pale complexion. Other times, Blue would look up at the gray clouds, pregnant with rain, as he was pulled out of his makeshift prison and thrown onto the grass for a good, long fuck by Alden or Lofgren or any of the other quasi-familiar faces. There was some relief whenever the clouds broke and water began to fall down onto Blue's naked body, as if the sky were crying for him, attempting to wash away the sweat, semen, and dirt in the only way it knew how. Appreciative though he was, it was never enough, and after a while Blue began to develop a second skin made of grime and contempt. All the water and all the scrubbing couldn't remove this new sickly film from Blue's flesh, and eventually the human just began to accept it, knowing he was going to have to live with it for the rest of his life, however long that was.<br/><br/>Alden had taken up the duty of caring for Blue, ensuring that the boy was always fed and watered. He even cleaned and bandaged all of Blue's various wounds, including the mess Lofgren had made of his shoulder. It was all just enough to keep Blue alive, but even Blue began to notice that his face looked a little sharper, his ribs poked out of his side more than they used to, and what was once an attractively lean masculine body was transforming into a collection of harsh lines, scarred skin and slightly protruding bones. Alden fed him enough, as Blue often didn't feel hungry, so any weight loss the boy had was most likely due to the perpetual states of stress and fear that ate away at his nerves until he could barely remember who he was.<br/><br/>When he wasn't getting fucked or being dragged around by Alden like an obedient pet, the werewolves locked Blue up in a shed with nothing inside of it other than a bed, some chairs, and a collection of old, battered books the wolves had taken from the cabin. Alden had said something about keeping Blue's mind occupied, but Blue didn't really care about Alden's reasons for anything he did, as Blue was convinced everything that came out of Alden was some self-serving lie in one way or another. When he was alone, Blue mostly just slept, desperate to remove himself from his brutal reality if only for a few hours. Whenever he did take the time to read from one of the books, he would curl himself up in the corner of the shed where the walls had cracks and the sunlight peered through enough to allow Blue to see the faded print.<br/><br/>All of the books were pieces of classic literature, the kind Blue would have been forced to read in high school; apparently whoever had lived in the cabin before Lofgren claimed it as his own had ways of keeping himself sane and connected to the rest of humanity. Blue had never been a fan of reading growing up, but with nothing else to do during his down time other than sleep and cry, the books were a nice distraction. In the shed, Blue had managed to finish Victor Hugo's<i>The Hunchback of Notre Dame</i>and<i>Les Misérables</i>, gigantic though the latter was, finding some comfort in the idea that the lives of fictional characters could be just as awful as his own.<i>Crime and Punishment </i>by Fyodor Dostoevsky had been Blue's favorite, a tale of murder, guilt, and psychosis. Watching the main character slowly lose his mind was somehow refreshing, though keeping up with the confusing Russian names was a bit of a trial at times. Not that Blue had anything better to do.<br/><br/>Although he couldn't be sure when it happened, eventually Blue stopped talking altogether. Neither Lofgren nor Alden really cared to converse with Blue other than to give him commands, and with the tight leash that Alden kept around Blue's throat, none of the other wolves ever had much time to speak to Blue as they mated with him. If one of his captors required a response, Blue could usually get away with a nod or quiet "yes" or "no," but that was the extent of it. He even stopped making noise as he got fucked, a dead, glassy look coming over his eyes whenever one of the wolves slipped their greedy cocks inside of him. The wolves would still grunt, moan, and growl, and the sounds of flesh slapping at flesh could never be silenced, but Blue did nothing other than stare, breathe and wait for it all to end. Lofgren had teased him about this once while inside of him, fucking him aggressively from behind, saying he almost missed the precious little whines Blue used to do for him. But Blue knew that Lofgren didn't really care as long as he cooperated, and so the boy had merely buried his head into his arms and waited until Lofgren either came or abandoned him for Alden.<br/><br/>Three days had gone by without any of the wolves coming for him, the longest stretch of time that Blue had spent alone since Lofgren had taken him. The alpha would usually come for Blue every other day, sometimes multiples times in one day, and Alden was always skulking around, making sure none of the other wolves got too close to without permission. On the morning of the third day, Blue dug through the last of the provisions Alden had left for him, all dried or canned goods that could stay edible for long periods of time without refrigeration. Blue had already eaten the box of crackers and one of the cans of beans, half of a package of beef jerky and some canned peaches Alden had given to him as a "special treat." The sugar cane sat untouched, as Alden had gotten into the habit of using it to reward Blue for good behavior and now Blue couldn't look at the stuff without wanting to vomit.<br/><br/>Blue was picking through a can of tuna with his fingers when Alden came for him, taking him to the river to clean himself up. Blue came along without protest, bringing the can of fish with him and eating it quickly as he knew it was likely some other critter would creep in through the cracks in the shed and finish it up if he didn't do it himself. The water was cool against his body, but Blue hadn't felt pleasure at simple sensations for what felt like years. He moved stiffly, tiredly, into the river and dunked his head underneath the surface, wishing he had the will to just stay there even after his lungs began to burn. He didn't, though, and when Blue stood back up and took in some air, he could see Garlan stepping into the water and moving toward him, sickly green eyes staring at Blue's body.<br/><br/>He curled his lip in the man's direction and scowled. Everyone in Lofgren's pack had had a piece of Blue except Garlan, and Blue was thankful for that. It was just a game to Alden, and had the wolf not loved torturing Garlan, surely Blue would have been subjected to that unattractive cock of his again, but this one selfish behavior of Alden's was the only one that actually did work in Blue's favor. The boy had neither forgotten nor forgiven the abusive way Garlan had treated his balls and nipple. How could he, with the deep scar that now marred Blue's chest? It was only second to the extensive scarring on Blue's shoulder, evidence that he had been attacked by a vicious wild animal. The skin was still growing and mending underneath the scar tissue, and Blue's shoulder was a consistent shade of light pink no matter how much sun graced it. It was obvious to anyone looking that those scars were never going to fade. Blue was marked for life.<br/><br/>Alden called to him, and Blue immediately went to the werewolf's side. The wolf liked to tease Garlan and remind him that Blue was his, and Lofgren's, but as Alden had taken up all of Blue's care Alden was considered by most of the pack to be Blue's true master. The human, knowing that Alden liked it when he showed affection, lay down next to the wolf and tucked himself underneath Alden's arm. Blue despised Alden, but listening to him was the only way he had learned how to survive, and if it kept him from Garlan's grubby fingers then so be it.<br/><br/>Another day, another series of Alden and Garlan trading insults back and forth until the latter got fed up and stomped away. It was all the same. Always the same. He rested his head against Alden's chest and blinked wearily at Garlan, knowing the boy's calm demeanor would drive him absolutely crazy.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;<br/>​</div><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2F736x%2Fbe%2Faf%2F91%2Fbeaf91e6139056a0cbf17a72400605f4.jpg&amp;hash=1a538f47af1f3459880c4cdaf57e9c6d" href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/be/af/91/beaf91e6139056a0cbf17a72400605f4.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Little Bird</a>clutched Blue's notebook to her chest, the one he used to scribble in when he was in high school and didn't feel like paying attention to whatever dribble he was supposed to be learning that day. Inside were humorous caricatures, dark poetry about love, death and Blue's odd fixation on strangulation. There were lists of things Blue liked such as movies, songs, animals, sexual positions, boys in his classes he wanted to kiss. There were even lists about his sisters and what he could get them for their birthdays, their favorite colors and flowers, ideas for places to take them when they both graduated high school. Blue had made plans for them, for himself, for all the things he wanted to. And now he was gone.<br/><br/>Her pillow case was soaked with tears for the fourth time that week. Their parents had called the police on the third day of Blue's absence. It wasn't strange for Blue to disappear; he was temperamental and prone to walking out during stressful situations, but no matter his mood he always answered his phone when Little Bird or Chrysanthemum called. Neither girl had been able to reach him, and when Blue's phone no longer rang, continuously directing the girls to his voicemail, they knew something was horribly wrong.<br/><br/>The police had been able to find absolutely no trace of Blue. As far as anyone was concerned, Blue had just up and vanished. No one had seen him or heard from him. He hadn't contacted anyone the day of his fight with his parents, and although a report for Blue's missing car had been sent out, alerting anyone to call the police with information if it had been seen or found, so far no one had come forward. The police had asked the girls if it was at all possible that Blue had run away. The fight with the parents and Blue's history of disappearing had left a sour stain on the case, as gay youths abandoned their disapproving families all the time, but both girls had adamantly insisted that it was impossible. Blue would never leave without saying anything to them. He told them everything. The officers had given one another looks that whispered silent skepticism, but the girls never faltered in their statements. Blue wouldn't run away like that. Something happened to him. Something bad.<br/><br/>A knock on Little Bird's door encouraged her to wipe at her face and sit up on her bed. "Come in," she said shakily.<br/><br/><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.fashionmodeldirectory.com%2Fmodel%2F000000508236-nika_miklikova-squaremedium.jpg&amp;hash=1373470df03ec861f1f9b8234c0761ef" href="http://images.fashionmodeldirectory.com/model/000000508236-nika_miklikova-squaremedium.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Chrysanthemum</a>quietly opened the bedroom door, a weak smile on her face. "Hey, Birdie. You doin' okay?"<br/><br/>"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." The stains on her face said otherwise.<br/><br/>Chrysanthemum sighed and closed the door behind her, crossing the room to sit at her sister's side. Chrys had run out of tears the week before, and now there was just a dark numbness that filled her whenever she thought of her older brother. "I miss him, too."<br/><br/>"Chrys, what if he's dead?" Little Bird asked, her voice cracking as the words became lodged in her throat.<br/><br/>"He's not dead," Chrys replied stubbornly, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. "He can't die. He hasn't even judged your prom dress yet and told you how awful you look in green."<br/><br/>Little Bird chuckled lightly in spite of herself, resting her head on Chrys' shoulder. "You're right. He would hate to miss out on that."<br/><br/>Chrys nodded and squeezed, gently rocking Little Bird back and forth. "We'll find him. I promise. We will look forever if we have to. The police well keep looking for him because we're gonna make them, and before you know it, Blue will be back home, safe with us."<br/><br/>"Yeah. I know. I just . . . I hope he's okay."<br/><br/>"Yeah," Chrys replied, her voice a low whisper. "Me too."