//Eric's Apartment #303. Apr 13th & 17th, early morning.

He still heard Hector's heavy breathing as he dragged Eric back to the bed - it wasn't so easy now when his legs, the whole body, wouldn't cooperate. The smell of the liquor confiscated from other people's apartments mixed with sweat permeated his nostrils. "I'm gonna need a shower after this," he heard him complain. Eric needed it even more when he could still smell Sada's perfume on his own clothes.

He remembered tripping on his own pants on his way upstairs, to the ground level, because Hector thought it would be funny not to fully pull them back up until it was too dangerous that someone could spot them. Even Sada wasn't there to see her new loyalist trying to earn some points for humiliating Eric; he had been enjoying his new tools, the power she had given him and James.

He remembered the jokes the man whispered into his ear when he brutally pulled Eric back up to his feet, ignoring his resigned groan. The way back to his new apartment was long, but when the door closed behind him, the lock turning, he didn't feel any better or safer.

Someone should have seen him immediately, the injuries she had left him with, but he crawled into his bed instead and wrapped his aching body in the blanket so tight he wasn't even sure if anything still hurt.

As if he had witnessed a thief break into his house and steal the most valuable of his possessions while all he could do was watch, Eric's mind replayed the events of the night over and over again in his head. Sada robbed him of his dignity in more than one way and he wasn't even brave enough to apologize to himself for bringing this on himself for nothing.

Unable to fall asleep, his hand gingerly reached up to his neck and covered the tattoo. Whatever it was, he didn't want it there but this room was the only place he could keep it hidden; Sada made it clear she would tattoo his face if she ever saw him cover it.

It's been years since Eric last cried, but that was the only way to exhaust himself to the point where he reached a dreamless rest. Despite his broken ribs and how it hurt to bury his face into the pillow to muffle the sounds, he cried like a kid.

Why had his body betrayed him and allowed that to happen; maybe she would have left him earlier if it hadn't cooperated? That spark of hope disguised as guilt (and vice versa) remained stuck in his brain like a splinter.

*

Another morning came and he woke up as if solely to cry some more. Only getting out of bed to use the toilet and drink some water. He choked and coughed. His ribs immediately reminded him of the beating.

Was it the next day or later? Eric didn't know, he slept and barely felt any hunger, so even his rations remained more or less untouched. Hector brought him scrambled eggs one day, but Eric refused to eat them. He was sure there was something nasty in the meal, but little did he know that was barely a prank played on him - Hector and some other asshole bet the poor man wouldn't touch even a deliciously smelling breakfast, and sacrificed their own breakfast to prove that.

*

Days passed and even though Zach's voice at the door was neither anything new nor surprising, this time it was accompanied by Ria's.

"Unlock the door now, Ria," demanded Zach. He knew she could pick the lock and let him in, and after a few days of not seeing his brother, Zach decided it was too terrifying even for the New Wexley Order. "I'm not fucking kidding."

She was armed and he wasn't but, God, when - or more importantly how - did their friendship turn into this? He waited impatiently and when she was done, Zach entered the apartment and slammed the door shut.

Are you okay? Hell no. What happened to you? Got beaten up. By who? Sada. Why? For his performance at the atrium almost a week prior.

A wordless, blink-of-an-eye conversation between the brothers happened before Zach even opened his mouth to express his shock.

"Oh my god, Eric..."

Zach ran straight to his brother's bed and kneeled beside it, immediately studying the injuries Eric had suffered. He looked so bad and did he stink even worse. Zach's heart was breaking at the sight alone.

"We're going to the shower and then I'll get you something to eat. And then I'll find Ruth to help you. Vie, I'm so fucking sorry-" He helped Eric sit up in the bed, and just when he was sure he saw everything there was to see, a dark marking that didn't resemble dried-up blood caught his attention. Zach lifted his hand to his brother's to stop him from covering it.

Eric cleared his throat; his voice was hoarse when he quietly uttered the first word he had spoken since that night.