Shaking in his shoes from what he had just witnessed, he managed to get back to the playroom, however not considering that that window could only be opened from the outside. And while he had left it open after getting in, someone had closed it again.

He looked around in panic, but luckily there were more opportunities to hide in here, so he decided the safest place to hide would be the large toybox in the corner, being just large enough to fit him.

It was fairly empty, but it was still enormously uncomfortable with the building blocks and figurines poking at him. He didn't even know what he would do in there, he had to think of a way to escape, but he definitely wasn't intending on leaving this place without Tweek anymore after this.

Time ticked by. He wanted to think of a plan, but all he could do was think about the way Tweek screamed as he woke him. The guilt was eating away at him like acid burning in his stomach. He just wanted him to be fine so he could sneak out with him. No injuries, not drugged, no limbs cut off. But every time he returns to this hellhole Tweek's conditions seem to get worse. Drastically worse.

While he was hiding there for hours upon hours, Tweek had been brought back to his room. It took him some time to get back to consciousness, but when his puffed up eyes opened slowly, he immediately grasped and checked for his arm again.

He didn't dare look, but he felt flesh and skin. It was back. He could barely move it, it was tinted dark purple though slowly regaining color. It felt entirely numb and he could only faintly feel the pressure of his fingers on the tinted skin, but it was back.

Back?

Suddenly everything blurred together for him: was that thing with Craig and his arm being amputated just a nightmare? The stitches and bandages on his arm told him it wasn't, but maybe the only cut it open, not off, and he remembered it being so horrifying he had a nightmare about it.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd dream of something like that, or of Craig. He sighed at the thought of him. He missed the comfort he gave him so, and the warmth and the love.

Tweek wanted to go back home, to be normal again. As normal as he could be. He wanted to go back to Craig and go back to school, where he could worry only about the things he thought to see, nothing that could actually inflict harm on him according to Craig. In here he never felt safe, because he wasn't.

"It's time for Mr Tweak's stage 7 treatment right?" If Craig hadn't heard two people discussing this outside, he wouldn't have known what to do. He got out of the toybox, quietly pressing his ear against the door and eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Yes, are we sure he's going to survive it though? No other patients have ever made it this far."

A moment of silence occured before the other spoke again, "Well we had to speed up the process because he woke up so early so...We'll see."

Craig's eyes widened, what were they going to -

He stopped in the middle of asking himself this. Why did it even matter anymore? They were doing horrible things to him, he was sure of it, and he needed to get out of here, that's all that mattered anymore.

But boy did he want to know. He just wanted to hate every employee in this God forsaken building more than he already did. He wanted to know in every ugly detail the inexplicable things they did to hurt his boyfriend.

But it didn't matter.

He pensively waited, adrenaline with anger starting to pump through him, until he heard them walk past. He peaked out to check the hallways again.

In the distance he could see several nurses and doctors entering through the large room with Tweek, passed out, on a brancard again. He had always focused on Tweek as said doors opened, but looking past him he could now only barely see bright white light reflecting on large machines and walls filled with surgical tools. Then with a loud echo the doors slammed shut. Craig gulped hard, despite his fear piling up he paced across the hallway towards the door.

With every step his legs felt heavier, his fear became bigger; what was a kid gonna do to stop whatever was happening to him? What was he expecting? Worst case scenario he would get captured and experimented on as well.

He felt horrifying thoughts like that race through his head as he hesitantly brought his quivering hand to the icecold door handle. His fingers felt stiff and paralyzed around it. All he was worrying about was that it might be locked. Not about what was to come.

Then, he froze dead in his tracks. Out of nowhere he heard deafening screams and cries for help from the room.

It were multiple people's voices, merging together into white noise. A mix between blood-gurgling, helpless groans and fearful begs not to be killed.

He could barely make out Tweek's voice. He, too, was screaming, but he sounded different. He sounded nothing like the Tweek he knew.

The small windows that would've been just barely low enough for Craig to be able to peek through, had been entirely painted red, making his stomach twist and turn.

Suddenly it went dead quiet. He only heard as much as his own trembling breaths.

He shakily held his ear to the door, there was nothing to be heard other than the faint sound of someone panting heavily. One single person. He could only hope and beg to God for it to be Tweek, because that meant he was breathing.

He just had to be breathing; he had to be alive.

He didn't care how badly hurt he was in there, as long as he was alive. They could have dismembered all of his limbs, as long as he was alive.

And alive he was.

He feared for the worst but never expected this. Upon carefully opening the door he saw Tweek, shaking more violently than he ever had, stepping back and forth as if backing away from everything, including himself. In reality it was especially from himself.

He was surrounded by a literal bloody mess of dismembered corpses, or rather what was left of them, they looked more like piles of flesh and torn, red stained clothes. His trembling feet only made the puddles of crimson blood spread further on the white marble tiles.

"T...Tweek?" Craig stammered under his breath, trembling with horror. Tweek didn't recognise his voice at first, so he jumped up and immediately swung his heavy weapon in his direction, even though he was no where near him. In his hands was a circular saw -almost half his size-, painted in blood, this went for his clothes as well, covered in large crimson stains.

"DON'T COME NEAR ME!" He cried out in fear.

Craig barely recognised his own boyfriend when he looked at him, his eyes widened and bloodshot but face entirely pale with blood splatters on what once were soft rosy cheeks. The tears streaming down his face never ending, but not from fear of what happened to him. It was fear of what he had done.

The shock of whatever had happened made him not see clear, but his blurry vision soon cleared up and he could make out his boyfriend's figure. He spoke, but it was more like a soft, fearful squeak. "C...Craig?"

Craig bit his lip hard, trying to calm his breath, before managing to stammer, "Holy shit- Tweek did- D-Did you...do this?" He slowly asked for the obvious, getting extremely nauseous at the grotesque sight and the strong iron-like stench.

"I- Oh my god...I didn't want to!!! I swear, I...I di- I didn't- Oh god...I..." Tweek stammered with despair in his voise and promptly let the saw handle slip from between his fingers, dropping it with a loud, echoing thump.

He held his head between his hands, shaking it furiously in disbelief. He looked up and quickly walked up to Craig, but he backed away in fear as he got closer.

Craig wanted to hold him, wanted to comfort him, he really did, but the horrifying scene lying behind him was caused by him and him alone. The shaking, petite boy who had always feared monsters under the bed.

"Craig I was- I was only d-defending myself!! You have to believe me!! Th...They were gonna hurt me again! It had to stop! It had- It had to...It had to!!!"

Tweek's mind was spinning, so was his vision. He had become the monster he feared and Craig feared him too, that was the only thing he could think.

Craig wanted to say he believed him, but upon opening his mouth the nausea took over, making him painfully spill his stomach content onto the ground, contrasting against the crimson splatters.

Tweek stepped back and looked away, even though he had seen so much worse just now.

It took a moment for Craig to recover, this time making the wise decision not to look at the room. "How...How did you even manage to...?" He muttered. It didn't matter, but the question just came out anyway.

"I don't know...! I...I was only out for a minute after the injection, I suddenly woke up, s-so I pretended to still be paralysed until they undid the restrains to move me onto a table..."

Tweek widened his eyes, the trauma flooding over him as he suddenly began remembering every detail. "O...One of them was holding that- that saw...they were probably- N-No, definitely gonna use it on me! I managed to get up and grab it before any of them could tie me down and I...I wasn't in control anymore..." His knees felt shaky and weak, he started pulling at his hair, plucking out some of the golden strands.

"I somehow turned on the saw and just...I just started swinging at everything around me. So- so much b-blood...and screams..."

His eardrums were throbbing at the loud ringing he heard. In that moment he had only heard himself scream, but now all he heard a relapse of every voice he seized.

He shuddered in fear of himself, starting to hyperventilate as he became more aware of the consequences of all this. Human lives were brought to an end by him. No matter how much they had hurt and tortured him, Tweek couldn't help but feel there had to have been another way.

Craig tried to calm him, but soon after his explanation, more staff came around the corner after they had heard the screaming.

"Run!!" Craig yelled loudly. Before they were able to get to them, he quickly grabbed Tweek's wrist, running right past them while pulling him along. One of them had just barely grabbed onto Tweek's thin hospital attire, ripping off a piece of his shirt.

They heard the many echoing footsteps chasing them down the dark corridors, but with all their energy they ran faster and soon got to the entrance.

Craig stressfully took out his crumpled papers and quickly scanned the code at the door to make it open for them, constantly looking back over his shoulder for their chasers.

He did the same at the gate, still tugging Tweek along as they headed into the woods near the hospital. The crisp, dead leaves broke under their feet, sticking to the bottom of Tweek's. Jumping over roots and stumps, they ran and ran until their legs gave in.

They wasted no time to hide behind a large oak, panting heavily when they were finally safe. In all this chaos, it hadn't even occurred to Tweek yet that they had escaped, he was free now.

How long had he even been in there? 6 months? Longer? Reflecting on it, the months he had spend there before Craig stared visiting were even more a blur to him.

It had just been eating, sleeping and going to that room...But it was over now.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was going back to his parents. They were the ones to put him in that place and put him through all of that. Did they know they would do those things to him in there?

He snapped out of his thoughts when Craig waved his hand in front of his face. "Tweek? Are...Are you okay- Are you with me?" He asked this but knew he wasn't okay in the slightest.

He knew he had been put through months of torture every single day and he knew he had just brutally murdered multiple people, but right now all he meant by 'okay' was if he had recovered from running so much.

Tweek understood as much, so gave him a short nod, despite his lungs hurting from the running. "Where- where do we go now though...?" He asked anxiously, looking at his bloodied clothes. It didn't matter if they'd get picked up by Craig's parents or if they walked home, the blood splatters would sure raise some concerns.

Craig took off his jacket, wearing a sweater underneath, and helped Tweek put it on. Besides hiding the stains, it also kept him warm since it was already near winter. "We need to bring you home first of all-"

Tweek shook his head. "I don't wanna go home..."

Craig looked at him, he was facing away, but glossy tears welling in his eyes explained better than a thousand words could.

He nodded, understanding. "We'll go to my house then. And we should probably explain all this to my parents and make them call the police too." Tweek bit his lip nervously, he knew that was the responsible thing to do but...

"B-But if we call the police I'll be- I'll be arrested for...for m-m..." He couldn't even say it, nor fully realise he had just wiped the existence of multiple people from this world.

Craig wrapped his arms around him in a caring way. "Tweek it...You said it yourself, it was self-defence. It was, um, violent and gruesome, but who knows what they would've done to you if you hadn't done it."

Tweek clenched his teeth at the thought, he was right; if he hadn't taken the saw, he could've missed more than just an arm this time. However that didn't stop him from the thoroughly disgusted feeling he felt for himself.

They got up, pacing towards the road to walk back home. It was a long walk but it was peaceful and quiet. Not a single car passed them on their way home. It was exactly what Tweek seemed to need, fresh air first and foremost, he couldn't remember the last time the air he breathed in didn't feel synthetic. But most of all after all the unsuffarable short visits he and Craig had, he finally had some alone time with him.

Craig didn't know what to think or how to feel. He never looked aside at him, but he felt like holding his hand was a delusion. A dream he would wake up from. His impulsive plan to break him out had been a nightmare all the way up until now, starring him, Tweek and all of Tweek's worst fears.

The thing Craig had feared the most was for Tweek to be hurt. And he was, he most definitely was. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But he had been lightly smiling as he held his smaller hand in Craig's.

His stitches stung, his lungs felt heavy, his head was aching. He might never recover from this fully, more nightterrors and hallucinations were probably awaiting him because of this trauma. But somehow when it was calm and quiet like this and Craig's hand felt warm in his, he couldn't help but feel like everything was gonna be okay. Such childish naivety.