Matthew tried to fall asleep on the hard rock floor. It was cold, but he had no energy to curl up in a ball for warmth, so he lay how they had left him. Sprawled out, naked, on the floor, a fresh bruise on his face, and a mixture of blood and cum seeping from his butt. The shackle on his ankle was digging into his flesh, and the ones on his wrists had a small trickle of blood dripping from them. His long, straggly hair was matted in places with blood and the general filth on the rest of his body and his cell.

Somewhere he could hear someone crying and begging to be released. Obviously someone new, if they still had hope of getting out of here. Everyone went through the same stages in this place. Matthew had been in the broken stage for longer than most, but it changed nothing. Soon he would be in the last stage of degeneration; insanity. Soon he would be like that man, a few cells over, yelling at little devils he saw and shaking the bars of his own cell. No one escaped this windowless prison. No one got out of Hell alive.

A new sound was joined into the mix. Footsteps. Definitely more than one pair. They had some type of shoe on, so they weren't a prisoner. That meant they were a guard. Matthew didn't even open his eyes to see what they were doing. With guards, it was never a good thing. Even if they were bringing you food, they would want something in return. And they took the only thing these hollow people could give; release. They didn't care much which hole they took it from. All guards were the same.

A stroke of luck. The footsteps didn't stop outside his cell. Some other unfortunate soul, then. But they would come. They always did. After a minute of silence - the crying and crazy men had stopped - there was one word said. "No." The footsteps continued, just to stop at another cell. The single, clear word was heard again. This continued on for a few cells, so when they stopped in front of his cell, he hoped they would continue on.

A slight gasp was heard. "Open it." The cell door creaked open, and the footsteps came inside. Matthew determinedly kept his eyes closed. He didn't like looking at the people who were going to violate him, even if it had become a normal occurrence. The same voice again, "Is-is he alive?"

He didn't even let out a sound as he was kicked violently in the ribs, his body lurching to the side. But he did open his eyes, starring at the boots in front of his face. Yes, he was alive. They wouldn't be raping a dead person, because where was the fun in that?

"Hey! Don't kick him!"

That was different. Perhaps this person was a new guard, not used to seeing people treated like they were here. But it changed nothing. Every guard was the same.

How many people were there? He knew there were at least two, but possibly more. Fuck, he just wanted to sleep. A hand reached down from in front of him and lifted his face up slightly. Matthew kept his eyes on the floor, still not wanting to look this person in the face. It didn't even matter that he probably wouldn't be able to see them clearly with his poor eyesight.

His head was put back on the floor, and the boots retreated quickly. A small "Yes" was heard before the person was gone. Matthew didn't even have the energy to be curious about what had just happened.

Strong arms grabbed him by the waist. The strangeness of the event had ended, and now it was back to the same thing as always, it seemed.

But no, he was not thrust into, instead he heard the jiggling of the shackle on his ankle being undone and was hoisted up and over the broad shoulder of a guard. The large man started walking, Matthew's head continually hitting his muscular back, arms hanging above his head, still locked together. He saw that there was a rather skinny man following them. He seemed to be the one that had kicked him. He locked the cell door and followed after them. There was no sign of the other man.

They arrived at a room, and Matthew was unceremoniously thrown on the ground. He offered no retaliation, completely used to this treatment. The burly man went to the side of the room and came back with some rags, sown together to be clothes. They were probably what one of the prisoners had worn when they first came here. But they never kept their clothes. When they were naked, it made them easier to handle, their pride gone with their garments.

He ripped up the sleeves so they could be put on without unlocking Matthew's hands and tossed them to the prisoner. When he was dressed, the guard dragged him to a table in the middle of the room. He took the cover off of a plate to reveal a mountain of warm food. "Here. Eat." He said, gruffly.

Matthew's eyes went wide. This was for him? He cautiously leaned forward, smelling it. When the guard didn't stop him, he grabbed some with his shackled hands, shovelling it into his mouth as fast as he could, completely ignoring the cutlery. He hadn't eaten in three days, and even then it had only been stale bread.

Too soon, his small stomach was full. A part of him wanted to stick his fingers down his throat and throw up so he could eat more, but that would be a waste. Instead, when the guard left for the bathroom, he stuffed the rest of the food in the pockets of his new clothes, his weak arms moving slower than he wanted. He doubted very much that he would be fed this good again.

When the guard came back and saw the empty plate, he smirked. "I knew you were all animals." He walked over to Matthew and knelt down. "I suppose you can't walk over to the bed, hey?" So he picked him up like a rag doll and carried him to a straw mattress in the corner. Not remembering ever having slept on something other than the floor, it was as soft as a cloud.

The guard roughly grabbed his chin. "You don't talk much, do you?" A look came in his eyes as an idea occurred to him. Matthew had seen that look many times before. "Maybe you could do something useful with this mouth, though." A calloused thumb rubbed his chapped lips. When it slipped inside, the broken man opened his mouth obediently, knowing exactly what was going to happen. All guards were the same.

Undoing his pants quickly, the guard looked at the door, to make sure no one was there. He must be fairly new to even care. He took out his thick length, working himself to full erection. A carnal smile appeared on his face as he lifted Matthew's mouth and forced himself inside. He rocked his hips back and forth, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Matthew let his jaw hang slack, relaxing his throat. He offered no resistance to the intruding appendage, but didn't help either. His gag reflex hadn't acted up in a few years, after getting treated this way almost every single day. His eyes glassed over, not looking anywhere in particular. Yes, every guard was the same. Monsters in human form.

He was sickly relieved when he felt the warm fluid explode into his mouth. It meant it was over for now, or at least until the guard could get another erection. He pulled out his softening member, and cum trailed down Matthew's throat. He swallowed the disgusting stuff, with nothing else to do with it. The guard still had that idiotic smile on his ugly face. "Good boy." He said, standing up and placing himself back in his pants.

Without even a second thought, Matthew fell back into the heavenly mattress, making sure not to lie on the food in his pockets. His arms were at an odd angle, because of the cuffs, but he was still asleep in seconds, never wondering what this was all about. Something would happen, that was for sure. There was no point thinking about it until it did.

.oOo.

He woke up to yelling. Knowing it would probably be bad if they knew he was awake, Matthew kept his eyes closed.

"What the fuck is that?!" The voice was deep and angry. Possibly the one from the cell. The reason he was here. "What the hell is on his face?! Get out! Get out of here before I fucking kill you!"

There was a crash as if someone stumbled over something, and then there were hastily retreating footsteps.

A sigh from somewhere in the room. Then quieter footsteps, coming closer. A hand, on his chin. Matthew was confused until he realized it was carefully wiping away the dried cum from earlier. Then the hand was gone, and the person left. Matthew fell back to sleep.

.oOo.

In the morning, there was a different guard. When he saw that Matthew was awake, he smiled nicely. "Mornin'. How ya doin'?" He asked with a country accent. He had a tooth missing, and looked to be a simpleton. For some reason, Matthew wasn't afraid of him, even if he was a guard.

He stood up and went over to Matthew, holding out a hand. "Here, I'll help you up." His arms were much skinnier than the guard yesterday. He probably used to be a farmer or something. "Well, let's get you cleaned up." He helped Matthew stand, holding onto his hand, not the shackle, and helped him walk to a joining room. He stumbled a few times, still not having much strength, but they made it.

This room was smaller, and had a hose in one corner. They went over to it, and the guard let him sit down on the hard dirt floor. He started undressing him. Well, here it is. He may look different, but all guards were the same, no matter what. He was sure to be raped again, just like before.

Matthew felt water on his back. "Not too cold, innit?" he was asked kindly. Matthew said nothing, just starred forward in slight confusion. The water ran over his back, and a calloused hand rubbed it gently, getting the years of grime off.

All through it, the guard talked in his country slur, about his home and family and such. None of it really mattered to Matthew, but it was the closest thing to a conversation he had ever had. Of course, he didn't say anything back to him. He hadn't seen a reason to say anything these past four years.

When he was clean, the guard, who called himself Jerry, turned off the hose. "Well, you clean up purdy nice there." He went to pick up his clothes, but felt something. Matthew hung his head when he realized it was the food in his pockets. Jerry found out he had done that, and now he was probably going to be punished for it.

He took the food out, and gave a laugh. "You don' have to be doin' that now. You can have all the food ya want, ya know." So he put the clothes back on Matthew, sticking to his body because of the water. He... wasn't punished?

Jerry brought him back into the bigger room, where there was another plate of food. He was put down in front of it, and told to eat. Once again, Matthew ate it as fast as he could, but could only eat a little. Jerry gave a heartfelt laugh. "You seem hungry, don' ya?"

The door opened, and Jerry stood up quickly, knocking over the chair he had been sitting on. A tall man walked in. Matthew spared him a glance, before looking longingly at his food again. The man definitely looked important, and judging by the salute Jerry gave him, he was. He had blond hair that was cut short, with one strange piece sticking up at an odd angle. His glasses reflected the light from a window outside the room, but when he passed through the door, they darkened, showing midnight-blue eyes.

When he saw Matthew, he gave a warm smile. "Well, you look better." The deep voice suggested this was the man from the cell, and the one barely remembered from last night. He walked over to Matthew and patted him on the shoulder. He looked up at him and shied away slightly, not knowing what he wanted.

The man looked down and saw the shackles. He looked up at Jerry, a small bit of anger in his eyes. "Why are these still on him? Do you really think he will hurt anyone?"

Quickly, Jerry handed him the keys for them. "Sorry, sir, I wasn' told to take them off, ya see." The shackles fell away and Matthew grabbed his raw wrists, rubbing them.

"Anyway, we should be going. Can you stand?" He asked, bending down to look eye to eye with his dazzling blue gaze.

Jerry spoke up proudly. "He can walk, but needs help, sir. If you want, I could..."

"No, no, it's fine." The man waved Jerry away with a gloved hand. "Come on. Let's go home." He put a steady arm under Matthew's and lifted him up. He didn't seem to care that his clean and tailored suit was rubbing with dirty rags as he helped him to walk out the door.

Matthew gave a last glance to Jerry, standing in the doorway, holding his hat. At this distance, he could only see his blurry outline. What was going on? Now he was really starting to wonder. To his knowledge, this had never happened to any of the prisoners before. Occasionally they would be taken to the bedroom of someone slightly more important than the guards, but they would always be brought back within a few hours, their bodies more broken than before. What was going to happen to him?

He was even more confused when they went outside. He had a brief glance of the outside world before he had to shield his eyes from the bright sun. He hadn't been outside in years, so he wasn't used to it.

The man holding him up looked at him, concerned. "Oh, sorry, guess you're not used to the sun. Don't worry, we'll be in the carriage soon." He also put his hand over Matthew's eyes, guiding him so he didn't walk into anything. "Ok, we're here, so step up a little."

Once inside the carriage, Matthew opened his eyes and saw that he was surrounded by expensive looking cushions and things. "Sorry about that, I didn't think." The man said, sitting beside him. He leaned forward, talking to the man in front. "Try to make the trip not so bumpy."

It started moving. The man leaned back on the comfortable seat and smiled at Matthew. "So, can you talk?" He asked, still smiling, but consern evident in his eyes. Obviously he was worried about the answer, for some reason.

Matthew swallowed. While it was possible that this man was taking him somewhere even worse than the prison - if there was such a place - he seemed to be nice to him. Excluding Jerry, he was the nicest person Matthew had met in these last four years. So, he nodded his head. "Y-yes." He croaked out. His voice was scratchy, not having used it for so long.

He looked relieved. "Good." He looked out the window at the passing houses. Matthew vaugly remembered seeing houses like these the day before he was thrown in the prison. Of course, before the aweful day, he had no memory whatsoever. If he had, they probably wouldn't have put him in such a place.

Looking at the blond man, Matthew once again opened his mouth. "Who...?"

"Oh, right. How rude of me. I suppose you wouldn't know who I am, of course..." For some reason the man's smile looked almost sad when he said that. "My name is Alfred F. Jones." He put his hand out. Matthew shook it, not sure where he had learnt that. Surely he had never shook any of the guards hands. It must have happened in his life before the prison, whatever it had been.

The rest of the long ride was in silence. Why had Alfred come this far just for him? It made no sense. He was just a simple prisoner. He was sure there were many other places he could get people from. Matthew's gut twisted at the thought. Just how many places as horrible as that one could exist in the world?

Finally the carriage jerked to a stop outside a large house. Possibly a mansion, by the looks of it. The door opened and Alfred stepped outside. "It's not so bright here, so you should be fine." He held out his hand to help Matthew step out of the carriage.

The mansion was enormous. There were trees all around, and it was full of activity. A man in a black suit walked up to them and gave a low bow. Alfred smiled. "This is Bernard. I have some things to do, so he will take you to your room." He whispered something to Bernard and then left.

Bernard smiled and took Matthew by the arm, also helping him walk. "This way, sir. I... hope you will like your room." He led Matthew up to the main door, and through the confusion of hallways. There were tapestries on the walls and thick carpets on the ground. It could even be passed off as a castle. This place was immense! Matthew was growing tired from all the walking.

Finally, Bernard led him into a bedroom. There was a large bed in it, and a dresser, and a window that looked out onto the courtyard. Matthew's eyes went wide with amazement. Was it possible that things like this even existed?

"Well, I will leave you to get settled in." Bernard smiled and bowed, heading for the door. Matthew stopped him.

"Wh-where?" He couldn't get any more words out, so he hoped that would be enough.

Bernard smiled once again. "This is the Master's room, of course." And he left, closing the door behind him, but not locking it.

So that was it. He was here to be a pet. A possession of the 'Master'. No matter how nice Alfred had seemed, he still wanted him for the same thing the guards did. He collapsed onto the bed, exhausted from the days events. It had been a while since he had to walk that much. After all, there was no point walking when kept in a small cell.

He looked at the things on the dresser. He was surprised to see a painting of Alfred and another man that looked remarkably similar to him. They must have been twins.

After a little while, Bernard came back with a tray full of food. Matthew ate a little more than the last time, but not much. It was still new to him, having all the food he could eat. Perhaps being the possession of Master Alfred wasn't such a bad thing after all.

It began to get dark outside. Matthew wasn't sure if it was strange for Alfred to have not returned to his room yet, but he was starting to wonder where he was. So he cautiously opened the door, amazed that it wasn't locked, and looked around. He jumped when he saw Bernard standing right there.

"Is there anything you need?" He asked kindly.

Matthew took a deep breath. "Alfred? Where..."

"Ah, of course! I'll go get him for you." And he was gone down the hallway, leaving Matthew in his room alone.

He hadn't needed to get him, really. He had just been wondering where he was. Normally, wouldn't he have already had his way with Matthew? Unless he was busy, and was planning to do it later on.

After a few minutes, the door opened again and Alfred walked in. "What's wrong? Do you not like it here? Are you not comfortable?" He asked, walking towards him on the bed.

Matthew shook his head. He was very comfortable. Much more comfortable than he had ever been in his memory.

Alfred smiled, relieved. For some reason, he seemed very concerned about Matthew. "Well, that's good then." He noticed that he was still in the rags the guard had put on him, so he went over to a dresser. "Here, you can put these on, instead. They should fit you... well, actually you look very skinny, so they will probably be too big." He pulled out some nicer clothes and handed them to Matthew, who was still sitting on the bed.

Matthew was slightly surprised to see Alfred turn away when he changed. If he was going to have sex with him, you would think he wouldn't mind seeing him naked. And he had already seen him naked, when he was in the cell.

When he was finished putting on the clothes, Alfred turned back around and smiled. "Tomorrow, I'm going to get someone to cut your hair, if that's alright. I doubt it's been cut these last four years at all, has it?"

He shook his head. The prison had probably told him that he had been there four years.

Alfred sat on the bed, looking at Matthew. "Hey, would you mind if I slept here tonight?"

Matthew once again shook his head. Why was Alfred even asking him? Of course he didn't have a choice in the matter, right? Alfred smiled, lying back on the pillows. "Don't be shy. Just lie down and go to sleep."

Go to sleep? Really? Matthew closed his eyes hesitantly. Once again he was surprised. Just what was going on?

He didn't sleep very well. Perhaps it was the bed was just too nice. Or maybe he wasn't used to sleeping with another person. But either way, Matthew woke up in the middle of the night to Alfred turning over violently, obviously having a nightmare.

He stuffed his face into the pillow, and it sounded like he was... crying. Matthew stared at him, not sure what to do. Should he wake him up? Or should he just try to go back to sleep?

"Matty..."

Matthew was surprised to hear his name come out of Alfred's mouth, softly. He had never told him his name. He wasn't even sure if it was his name. It had just felt, when he woke up that horrible morning, that his name was Matthew.

He heard Alfred mumble Matty again. Of course, he couldn't be talking about him. It was just a coincidence. And his name was Matthew, not Matty, anyway. Maybe it was someone else he was dreaming about. It might not even be a real person. These were his dreams, after all.

Deciding to ignore it, Matthew went back to sleep.

.oOo.

That was the last time Alfred slept in that room. Matthew wondered where he was sleeping, since Bernard had said it was his room.

Slowly he had grown used to the place, finding his way around the halls like he had been living there his whole life. All the people working there were very nice to him, even if he hardly spoke. He still was curious what his part here was, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He hardly saw Alfred, he always seemed to be off somewhere.

His memories of the prison were still fresh in his mind, but now there was something that hadn't been there for years. Hope. Just maybe he could live a normal life here. He could learn to clean or something and work with the maids.

Running his hand through his hair, he still found himself amazed at this new world. His hair had been cut shorter, but it wasn't as short as Alfred's. He walked down a hall at random, just looking for something he could do.

He walked past a room, and heard a faint whimper. Something made him stop and look in the door instead of simply ignoring it like he would have. He was surprised to see Alfred sitting on the bed, head bent over, sobbing quietly into a stuffed polar bear.

He stood in the doorway for a second, not knowing what he should do. But Alfred looked up and saw him, so he turned around to leave.

"Wait! You don't have to leave." Alfred stood up from the bed, still holding the polar bear. "You can go anywhere in this house. Understand? Anywhere you want to go, you can. You don't have to leave."

Awkwardly, Matthew turned around and faced Alfred again. He smiled and sat back on the bed, patting a spot beside him. Matthew went to go sit down, looking to the floor.

Alfred smiled and handed him the bear. Matthew hesitantly grabbed it. It was fluffy and warm. He gave it a little squeeze, loving the feel of the soft fur on it. He held it out for Alfred to take again.

He shook his head. "No, you take it. It... once belonged to someone, but they disappeared years ago. So now it's yours." His smile this time held a sadness to it, like in the carriage that day.

Matthew nodded his head slightly and held onto the white bear. Why would he be giving it to him when it obviously meant so much to him? He looked back up to that blue gaze. "Why?"

Standing up, Alfred held out a hand. "Come with me, I have something to show you." They went into a large closet. On a dresser, there was a small mirror. Alfred picked it up and handed it to Matthew.

He looked at his reflection for the first time that he could remember. He touched his face, amazed. He looked almost exactly like the other man in the painting in his room, just wasn't wearing glasses.

Finally everything clicked into place. Alfred's brother from the painting must have been the one he was talking about that disappeared, and since he looked so much like him, he had taken Matthew in place of his brother.

He put the mirror back on the dresser. Alfred smiled. "Understand now?"

Matthew nodded. He understood. He was fine with being a replacement. It was better than the things he had been over the years. He hugged the bear again and gave a small smile.

Alfred also smiled, and put an arm around him. "That's the first time you've smiled since getting here."

.oOo.

Even though it had been about a month since he had gotten out of the prison, Matthew still considered going outside to be a privilege. It was just so beautiful and peaceful, how could it be a normal day thing?

Even though it was night this time, it was still a beautiful place to be. He walked through the garden, amazed at all the different, wonderful smells. He hadn't truly been living till he had smelt all those flowers. The stars shone in the night.

He went over to the gate. Outside the bars, he could see a town. He wondered where exactly this place was.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A gruff voice said behind him.

Matthew turned and saw a guard. He shied away, afraid. This guard reminded him exactly of the old ones, so his instincts told him to be cautious. Of course, he couldn't do anything. The guard looked like he could pull up a tree by its roots, and Matthew was still pathetically weak from his years in confinement.

"I asked you what are you doing?" He said, stepping forward, pinning Matthew to the gate. He knew from experience that nothing he could say could get him out of this situation.

"Well, if you don't want to talk, I'm sure there's something else you could be doing for me." One step closer, and Matthew could smell the stale alcohol on his breath. Yes, all guards were the same. Even Jerry probably bad his moments. Matthew turned his face away as the guard licked his cheek, his disgusting tongue sending shivers down his spine.

For the first time in three years, a tear ran down Matthew's cheek. He hadn't cried in so long, but this time he had actually thought leaving that life would be possible. But it wasn't. No matter where he went, there would be guards.

The man's large hands slid down his pants, pulling them down. He went instantly to the back, just like they had always done. Then he slapped Matthew, his head whirling to the side. He fell to the ground on all fours, drawing a shaky breath. Fighting wouldn't help. It never did. It was best to take it, because eventually it would be over and they would leave. They always left, not wanting to have to clean up. Silent tears kept falling from his eyes, onto the green grass.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" The guard bent down, his length already out and hard. Fighting wouldn't help, it wouldn't. There was nothing he could do. It wouldn't hurt too much, it wouldn't. He kept telling himself that, over and over, trying to convince himself it was true. Why was this affecting him so much this time? He had grown used to it.

But, things were different now.

He realized it as soon as he felt that disgusting dick at his hole. "NO! Get off me! Alfred!" He yelled, turning around and kicking the guy wherever he could reach. He kept screaming, surely waking up the whole mansion.

The guard put his hand over Matthew's mouth. "Shut up!" But Matthew bit his finger as hard as he could, tasting blood. "Ouch!"

"Alfred! Ah! Help!" He tried crawling away, but the man grabbed his ankle. He kicked as hard as he could, but the guards grip was stronger. He was pulled back into the clutches of what seemed like all the guards that had ever violated him all put into one.

There were footsteps coming from somewhere, lots of them. The guard stood up, Matthew still in his arms. He was still kicking and screaming, and the man had no idea what to do.

Matthew closed his eyes, sure the guard was going to kill him. Why hadn't he just kept quiet? But he heard a smack, and then the guard was falling. He opened his eyes in time to see that funny part of Alfred's hair as he caught him from falling and brought him away from the unconscious guard.

"Deal with him." He said to the people behind him, pointing to the guard. Then he put his attention on Matthew, holding him close as he sobbed in his clothes. Alfred just ran his fingers lovingly through his hair. "It's fine, it's fine. It'll be ok now." He said quietly.

After a few minutes, Matthew looked up, the tears having slowed down. "Alfred?"

"Yes?"

He tried to swallow the lump that had appeared in his throat, but it wouldn't go away. "When... when your brother comes back, will I have to go back to the prison?"

Alfred held him even closer after he said that. "No, Matthew, you are my brother."

His breath seemed caught in his lungs. "What?"

"Your name is Matthew Williams. Your birthday is July 1st, 1867. You are 19 years old, and you are, and always have been, my brother." He fumbled around in his pocket and took something out. "Um, these belong to you. I've been holding onto them because... well, they belong to you." He handed Matthew a pair of glasses that looked exactly like his own.

Matthew took them in shaking hands and put them on his eyes. Even in the half-light, he could tell things got clearer.

Alfred wiped the last of the tears off his face and put his hand in his hair, feeling the length. Then he brought his head close to his and kissed him on the forehead. "You're finally home, Matty. Sorry it took me four years to find you."