Hours. It must have been hours. 

Caleb had blacked out near the end, his body and mind unable to handle any more. He'd been assaulted in every way imaginable-- both the women and men had used him, and had taken pleasure in hurting him. It was like a torture session-- he'd been marred with bite marks, been slapped, his head wrenched around by his hair, tied up and pinned down, and had had to suffer through their ceaseless, depraved taunting. He'd cried and begged the entire time, but most of his pleas had been muffled by a firm hand over his mouth or a stinging slap that cut him off. 

He came to, and as the ringing in his ears faded, he heard voices around him. 

         "-- they're going to react?"

"I don't know. But you both need to leave-- I think they're home."

Caleb held as still as he could, his mind too dull to comprehend the hushed conversation. Instinct told him that if he moved, they would hurt him more. He heard rustling and women snickering, and two heavy sets of footsteps fade away. He smelled Victoria's perfume and heard her walk closer. 

"Is he still out?" Bella's voice asked from farther away. 

"Seems like it." Victoria answered. The bed dipped, and Caleb knew she'd sat. Her voice was coming from right beside him. He was so afraid he barely allowed himself to breathe.

"Should we take the blindfold off?" Bella asked, her voice approaching as she came to stand beside Victoria.

"No. We want them to see him like this, remember? That was the whole idea." 

Bella hummed in agreement. The women continued talking for a few moments, mostly about the sick events that'd just taken place. Caleb felt a tear slip from his eye and prayed the blindfold absorbed it so they wouldn't know he was awake. He just wanted them to leave. He let his mind pull him back into the darkness; he wasn't ready to have to deal with what had happened. 

* * * 

There was a quiet knock on the door. 

Victoria stood, motioning for Bella to follow her. She opened the door and stood blocking the view into the room. 

Caleb's caretaker, Marjory, stood with her head bowed. "You called for me, ma'am?"

"Yes," Victoria said briskly. "Are our husbands home?"

Marjory gave a quick nod. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You are not to touch him-- but you should make sure he's alive, I guess." she chuckled. "Then you will go fetch our husbands."

Marjory was concerned by the instructions. This was the room Caleb refused to leave-- had the women hurt him? Why were they in here? She could ask no questions, she could only stand aside with her head bowed to let them pass. 

The moment they were gone, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. She turned and stopped in her tracks. 

It was worse than when she'd found him after Griffin. 

Caleb was lain on the bed like a sacrifice. His bare, limp body twisted and facedown, his left ankle tied to a bedpost with rope that even from here she could tell was too tight and cutting into his flesh. He was covered in marks and hand-shaped bruises, and a strip of cloth had been tied around his head to block his sight. He was unmoving, and his ribs barely rose and fell.

Marjory's heart started to race as she rushed over to the bed, crashing to her knees in the same spot she had a few days ago for the same reasons.

She had been instructed not to touch him. . . but she couldn't just do nothing. She gingerly pulled out his arm and pressed two shaky fingers to the inside of his wrist-- and blew out a breath when she felt a steady pulse. 

She pulled herself up and rushed out of the room, intent on finding Oliver, who'd just returned home with Griffin from their trip. She knew he would be in his study. She rushed down all the stairs, nearly falling several times, and ran down the long hall, stopping at the correct door. She knocked on it, and heard Oliver's voice call 'come in'.

She wasted no time. She bowed quickly and straightened, relieved to find that Oliver was alone. "Sir-- it's Caleb." she panted, still out of breath from her mad dash through the mansion.

Oliver froze in his tracks, the papers in his hands trembling. His eyes were locked to hers, and they darkened. "What do you mean?"

Marjory leaned against a chair for support. "They hurt him-- I didn't know they were in there--"

"Who?" he demanded, slamming the papers down on the desk and stalking over in long, heavy strides. "Who hurt him? Where is he?"

"Master Griffin's bedroom, sir. I don't know--"

Oliver didn't wait for her to finish before he was out the door and jogging down the hall, trying to keep his composure. He sped up the closer he got to their adjoined rooms, his heart racing wildly. 

He flung open the door and rushed inside, freezing when he saw Caleb on the bed. His fists clenched at his sides and he stalked over, pausing above the boy. 

It was a very long time before he moved. He slowly reached out and traced his shaking fingertips across Caleb's flushed skin, brushing away some of the fluffy blond hair. He trailed over the blindfold, and his anger boiled over. He turned away so he wouldn't accidentally hurt Caleb. 

He walked over to the door, opening it to find Marjory panting on the other side-- she'd done her best to follow Oliver.

"You stand guard here." Oliver demanded, passing her and standing in the hallway. "Don't let anyone into that room-- especially Griffin." He waited for the old maid to nod before he took off.

Oliver stormed down the hall, headed down to the floor where the women's rooms were. He didn't bother to knock. He flung open Bella's door and marched inside, finding his wife sitting at her vanity, a small smile on her face as she fiddled with some of the perfume bottles there. 

"Get your ass up," Oliver growled, slamming the door behind him, startling Bella. "We're going to have a talk."

                      Part 30 Coming Soon