<span style="font-size: 18px">Oh, Chrys knew that it could be worse. Deep inside he knew that what Niegel had offered him was on the kinder spectrum of his capabilities. If there was anything that he learned in high school, it was of the brutal rapes soldiers were capable of overseas. Victims used for bayonet practice afterwards, entire families raped and murdered. No child, adult, or elder spared. But the thought of laying himself over the bed, spread and prepared to be raped, repulsed him too much to choose it.  Even if it ultimately killed him, Chrys wasn't able to make that decision for himself. <br/>
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It was a cowardly decision. But what decisions were there for him to make? There were only two routes that he had to himself; the one that would preserve his spirit, and the one that would preserve his body. He chose the route that would preserve the part of him that made him<i> Chrys. </i>But he questioned how long it would be before he would have to choose the route that preserved his body. Not long, he feared.<br/>
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Tears rained down his cheeks unabated. A hand touched his side and he recoiled, bracing himself for what he thought to be another strike. But instead he was greeted with a soothing rub, accompanied with the noise of his kidnapper's sigh. <i>"But I do, Chrys. You remind me so much of him, and I really do." </i> He could see why he reminded the man of his father, but that didn't mean he agreed with his reasoning. Not in the slightest. If he had learned about the man's grievances in another time, another place, it might've been different. Sympathetic, even. But now? He had no sympathy at all.<br/>
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The sobs that shook his body finally stopped, and he curled inwards to hide his tears. The weaker part of himself had surfaced at the violence, exposing his terrors to sight. He heard Niegel fumble with his pants, shifting himself back into place. Chrys wasn't sure what he thought the man would do, but he let out an choked sound as he was pulled close. A strong body pressed against his spine, a stubbly chin scratching against his skin. His lip quivered slightly, tongue thick and lazy with trepidation. He wanted to push the awful comfort away, but Niegel was simply a more formidable force than him. There would be no pushing to be had, at least none that would gain him ground.<br/>
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"Are you thirsty? Do you think you could eat?” </i>It was an unexpected question, but one that he thought he could take advantage of. "I... I could have some water." His appetite had disappeared from his stomach, but the friction of his lips told him that he was dehydrated. "Please?" He hoped that the request would separate Niegel from him, that it would make him get up from the bed. There were no water bottles near the bed, at least not ones that he could see.<br/>
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