It had been three years since Devon had been abducted by the cutting couple and he had never left the chair or the white, opening-less room. His body had atrophied, he was more skin and fat than muscle and blood any more. He was fed every day, three meals, aside from the cutting, the couple took pretty good care of him.

His body was covered in scars. There really wasn’t a spot that wasn’t a pink, red, or purple line. It itched, and Devon wished he could scratch… at the same time it wasn’t necessary. He had given up on leaving. He was stuck there. Everyday he was molested and cut. He had been raped by several individuals, who came and went like fresh air. His favorite moments, were the moments he was alone, but there were also the rare moments where his captors let him participate.

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