A/N: Hi! Welcome back! I am truly sorry that I haven't posted in a while. But here I am! And here is the next chapter of If There's Someone There, Please Save Me.

Chapter 3: The Handler

"I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?"

― Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak

"Night shift, eh, Head?" asks the horse-faced 28 year old, leaning on his plastic mop handle, chewing pink Big League Chewing Gum. His stubble shades his pale skin, dark black unlike his weird-ass hair, which is blondish-brown. He is average sized, dressed in an all-grey janitor's uniform which makes him look even grungier than he actually is.

He looks like a fucking homeless guy with nothing better to do with his life.

"Yes, Horse. For the next nine months. Or did you forget about Dr. Reiss is out on maternity leave and all of us nurses have to work double time for it," I spit back. Why Dr. Reiss gets nine months when Nurse Generai only had about three weeks? I dunno. The janitor, Jean Kirstein, snorts like the true horse he is and practically flips his matted hair like a friggin mane and starts mopping. Yeah, you keep mopping up nothing, you shit.

I sigh and check my pager. Ward C. Great! I actually get the easier ward tonight. They're all John or Jane Doe's, unclaimed and knocked out cold by morphine. I'll get a chance to sleep, perhaps. Or not. It all depends if my insomnia medicine works. If not, I'll be forced to take some Emergen-ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ or whatever the fuck that shit is during my nap break. I shuffle towards Ward C in my blue-green scrubs, blinking tiredly. Always tired, but never getting any sleep.

The long and fluorescent-lit halls seem to grow longer and longer as I walk down each one to the elevator which I will take up to Ward C. There are closed doors of patients all around, some sleeping, some watching TV, some not even there, and only wilting flowers on their windowsills to remember that there was anyone there in the first place. So sad… just the amount of people who die in this hospital every day is speaks miles about how we're forced to care for these people. I joined here to help people, not to be treated like shit and not heal anyone in the process. I grumble and shove my hands in my paper-thin pockets and look up to see the elevator door a few paces away. I press my finger on the button with an arrow pointing up and tap my foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator to come and whisk me away to the ward of sleeping nobodies. There is a small ding and the doors slide open, revealing two people already inside; Dr. Marlow and Dr. Kepling. I force on a smile and step in. Dr. Kepling grins at Dr. Marlow and says a loud and relief-driven goodbye, walking out of the elevator before its doors close behind her retreating figure.

"Good evening, Doctor," I say, the fake smile still plastered on my face. I press the button for level 5. Marlow smiles back and nods his head slightly.

"Good evening to you as well, Nurse Yeager. You are the new nurse I've been hearing about, correct? The one who saved Mr. Jensen and Mr. Padeleki, correct?" he mused, his eyes crinkling with an impressed sort of happiness. I smile genuinely this time and nod, a small blush of embarrassment painting my cheeks.

"Yes, sir," I admit with another wider, sheepish grin. My pride swells just a little. Praised by Dr. Marlow? That's an accomplishment! Marlow rests his hand on my shoulder and shakes it a little.

"Good for you, son," he remarks, a little hint of pride in his voice. I nod and smile once more. But his hand stays glued to my shoulder, making my smile fall bit by bit. This is a little creepy… and a little more contact than I would have ever asked for.

"Say, Mr. Yeager, would you come up to my office for a bit? It won't take long," Marlow asks, removing his hand. I let out a small sigh of relief, but then clench my jaw. My shoulders tense. Come up to his office? What does that mean? Am I getting fired? What the fuck is this?

"Of course, sir," I strain, putting on yet another fake smile to cover my fear and anger that is about to boil over the surface of my face. Marlow huffs in a quiet appreciation and nods, pressing the number 6 on the elevator. Shit, this is a long elevator ride.

The elevator dings and ruptures the silence between Marlow and I. Level 5. Its doors open and close without anyone else stepping in. Up one more level in silence. I'm beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic until the doors slide open once more, and a chill breeze gushes in, carrying the scent of antiseptic and Windex. We step out together. Never having been to Marlow's office, I am forced to follow behind him. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, clenching and unclenching my fists in my pockets, trying to relieve some of the building anxiety inside of me. We reach a plain tan door, and Marlow opens it with a key. He gestures for me to come in. I oblige, stepping inside of the large office with trembling fists. It has a wall of floor to ceiling windows that overlook the calm city below, the night lights casting their glimmerings up to create a small illusion of space, privacy. Marlow's desk is situated so the view is behind him as he works. It is a sleek, black desk with a desktop monitor in the right hand corner. There is a black, high-backed leather office chair for him to sit in, and an uncomfortable-looking modern white chair for guests to sit in across from his large chair. The white walls are sparsely decorated with black and white pieces of modern art. The floor looks to be made of birch wood, and creates a more… cozy effect, I guess. There is another door that is opened, revealing a bed for naps. It's a queen-sized mattress, which is weird for any doctor to have, but if anyone deserves it, it's Doctor Marlow.

"Sit, please, Mr. Yeager," commands Marlow gently, closing and locking the door behind him. I do as asked and sit in the (surprisingly comfortable) travesty of a chair. He walks quickly around to his side and smiles, flopping down into the black mass of a seat across from me. He looks me dead in the eye.

Dr. Marlow is young, not even 45 years of age yet, and the stress of being a doctor has not affected his looks one bit. He has brilliant white teeth, short yet silky looking hair that is the color of wheat on a summer day. His eyes are startlingly blue and welcoming, his skin tan but somehow still smooth and pale. Marlow's jaw is defined and his cheekbones are high, creating a prince like appearance. He is tall and seems to have a well-defined body, but it is not all that clear if he does or if it's just my imagination. I swallow. This man is a specimen to behold, and to want to hold, especially for a guy like me who is attracted to those who have a more, ah, manly stature.

Marlow continues to stare me down like a mad scientist ready to dissect an animal. I look down at my knees, occasionally glancing up at him.

"You know, Eren," he murmurs, making me jump and stare up at him expectantly. "Your eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen. My face falls and my cheeks redden deeply. I tense up violently.

"S-sorry, sir?" I squeak, starting to be a little scared of this situation. His eyes don't seem as welcoming now, more like a scrutinizing want, an animal drive. Like he knows I can't refuse.

"I said your eyes are beautiful, Eren," Marlow asserted, like he was now in control of everything. He gabs my upper arm with a large hand and pulls me forcefully towards him. I let out a yell, which he answers by clapping his free hand over my mouth. "I'd rather you not struggle against this, Yeager."

I manage to claw the side of his face with my fingers as I struggle against his firm grasp. He narrows his eyes and slaps my face, stunning me for a few seconds. He vaults over the desk so he stands above my writhing form and wraps his arms around me so that my arms are pinned against my sides. He lifts up my body, in which I respond by kicking him in the nuts. He somehow withstands the blow and calls me a little bitch with an ice cold voice. His grip still firm, he carries me over to the queen sized bed and throws me down before mounting my body, not giving me a chance to escape.

"HELP!" I scream, only able to shout since his hand wasn't covering my mouth. "HELP ME! OH GOD HE-!"


I'm out cold with one hard punch from the man above me.

Groggily, I wake up, not remembering when I fell asleep. All I know is that I just want to continue sleeping. I try to curl up against the soft sheets below me. But something pulls my arms and legs away from my body, making me unable to become smaller. I squint at my left arm, my tiredness making my eyes feel swollen. There… a pair of handcuffs attaches my arm to the bed. I pull on it experimentally and hear a faint jingle from the metal.

Oh, a yawn's coming…

I try to open my mouth to let out a large yawn, but something presses harshly against my tongue, making me cough.

Which in turn wakes me fully.

Shit, I can't move.

I stare up at the ceiling, fear coursing through my veins. I pull at my arms and legs, now painfully aware that I am firmly shackled to the bed. I try to yell, to call out, to get someone's attention. I press back against the uncomfortable fabric blocking me from shouting out with my tongue. But all that comes out is a muffled "MMMPHM!"

I hear footsteps.

Oh shit.

I hear a door open and close.

Oh shit.

There he is. My captor. Dr. Marlow. Peering above me.

I try to thrash around, but to no avail. Marlow has chained me to the bed in such a way that I can barely move. My fear fills me from head to toe as I try to escape. Marlow only smiles as he disappears from view. I try to track him with my eyes, but I can hardly move my neck. Then I realize that I don't need my eyes to follow him. Only my pain.

I feel numb, suddenly. My hope is buried in a pile of this numbness. My head falls back in shock as I feel, somehow muffled, Marlow's penis entering my anus. I don't exactly feel the pain at first. I just feel limp and powerless against the dominant monster entering me. I feel his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts, unable to do anything.

And then a sudden, stupid thought enters my head:

Oh. I'm naked.

As Marlow continues the muffled thrusting, I feel my dignity, my humanity slip away. I can't hear or feel anymore. Just nothingness.

I want it to end.

Anything is better than this.

I feel tears slip down my cheeks, silent yet cooling against my skin.

I feel blank; like nothing. Just… blank.

Marlow continues thrusting.

My eyes glaze over, not wanting to see anything. I vaguely feel Marlow exit me, and barely see his face above me, feeling his weight shift so he's on top of me, the fabric being taken from my mouth, only to be replaced by another mouth. A foreign tongue gains entry to the inside of my mouth without my consent. I can't even move; how can I expect myself to fight against a simple kiss?

I feel something spill on my chest, wet and sticky. I suppose I should have been a bit grossed out by it. But nothing feels real, and I can't conceptualize the reality of this all. I just want this eternity to end. But it doesn't even after I try to make it end by letting my eyes droop closed. Because then I feel everything that's going on more sharply. So I force myself to keep my eyes open. I don't make a sound. My expression doesn't change. I'm just neutral. Which I guess makes the monster above me angered even more. Because the sexual acts stop. And the frustrated beating begins.

One slap to my right cheek. It stings but it's nothing compared to what I just had to go through. Another slap. Another. Another. A punch down to my solar-plexus. The weight on me lifts, but then comes a sharp pain to my ribs. I cough out a small groan as the same spot gets hit over and over. A sensation of sharp pain signifies my ribs breaking. I hear a shout and the weight drops back on me. I wince slightly. Then he starts punching my face.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Over and over. I whimper quietly with each blow. This seems to satisfy the monster on me, and he keeps going. It gets to be too much.

Too much.

Too much.

I fall into the gentle grasp of unconsciousness once more, fading away.

"Get up," a voice gripes. The spit from these words settle onto my face like hail the size of cars crashes onto and unsuspecting home. It jolts me awake. I sit up, panting. The first thing I feel is the pain in my stomach, ribs, and face. I cry out in pain and curl up, gasping and sobbing.

"SHUT UP!" the same voice shouts, directly into my ear. I go numb. That voice… Marlow… I shudder and freeze, fear gripping me hard. I feel cloth hit my exposed skin, but I don't look at it. My eyes are wide with anxiousness and more fear. "Put it on."

I don't move.

"Put it on, you little bitch!"

I grab the clothes beside me and get off the bed, hurriedly clothing my breaking body. I don't dare look at him, but I sense him walking so he is behind me. He rests both of his hands on my shoulders, making me freeze once again. I suck in my breath and hold it.

"Now, you won't tell anyone about this, or I will see you fired or jailed for forcing your needy little self upon me, cunt," he says in his falsely kind voice. His fingernails dig into my shoulders. "After all—who would you believe? It's a respected, awarded doctor against a penniless nurse with a vile temper. Now get the hell out of my office, you little rapist!"

And with that, he pushes me out of the bedroom, out of his office, and to the elevator where I stand for the next five minutes, once again numb.

What the hell just happened?

A/N: Thanks for reading! Once again, I'm sorry this took so long. Please drop a review below, even if you're a guest! They all really help me continue to write, and continue to improve!