Chapter Text
He was covered in bruises. There were so many, one blending right into another, that he could barely tell them apart anymore and he thought he was starting to forget what the true color of his skin was supposed to be. Purple. Blue. Black. None of those were right, he knew, but so long it'd been that way he was beginning to think they were permanent, like someone had taken sharpies and colored giant blotches all over his skin. Very little did it seem they yellowed and went away before he sustained another hit to start the bruising process all over again.
His skin was feverish, too, but compared to the cold concrete walls surrounding him, it seemed fairly normal, and he'd forgotten the ache of all the abuse long ago. Had almost forgotten what the sun, the sky, the grass looked like because he hadn't been out of the little room in days, hadn't been out of the house in over a month. They wouldn't let him. They never would, not until his body was void of breath and they discarded it outside to rot without proper burial.
But he'd made peace with that long ago. Right now his concern wasn't for himself and how he was certain he'd never make it out, but for the newborn baby kitten wrapped in a bloody towel, cradled delicately within his thin, shaking arms. With its eyes still shut and ears still folded down, rendering the poor thing blind and deaf, the only thing to reassure him of its life was an occasional squirm or squeal. It was only days old; he was certain it was hungry, but with its mother and siblings all having passed away due to the unsanitary conditions of the basement and lack of food, he had no way to feed it. All he could do was huddle it to his chest to keep it warm, hoping in vain that help might come.
The ones upstairs didn't know about the cat or her kittens. He'd hidden them in a hole in the wall, using a loose piece of paneling to camouflage it with the rest of the wall. The Man had thrown her out a few months ago in the midst of all the violence, right into a rainstorm. He'd lost hope he'd ever see her again until he heard a rattling at the tiny basement window - his only source of light - like she knew he was in there. He pulled her inside and hid her; not a week later, she'd given birth to a litter of four kittens, one of which wasn't even alive when it was born; the rest had followed one after the other, including the mother herself, until the little white one with the black face was the only one left.
He floated in and out of consciousness for several hours. The ones upstairs hadn't been down in nearly two days, and while he'd heard them shuffling around on the floor above him quite often, it felt as if they'd forgotten about him. He could barely remember the last time he ate - it had been at least a week - and he hadn't had anything to drink since the last time The Woman had opened the door and thrown a half empty water bottle down at him. He hadn't used the bathroom in days and as a result, the inevitable happened. He was dirty. He was cold. His clothes were torn and stained, his hair matted and caked in dust. And he didn't understand why or how people could be so infinitely cruel.
Light was beginning to shine in through the one small cloudy window he had, indicating the rising of the sun. He could hear the faint wailing of sirens in the distance; everything else was dead silent. The kitten squirmed a bit, its mouth opening and closing as if it was looking for a nipple to suck on. He could offer it nothing but the tip of his pinkie finger to satisfy it for a short moment. The sirens grew a bit closer and eventually faded away. His ears rang in the silence.
He was only half conscious when he heard a loud ring and a sudden trampling sound come from upstairs. Sluggishly, his eyes peeled themselves open and he looked up toward the basement door. A few hisses of words he couldn't make out seemingly right on the other side of it, a heavy sigh, and then the sound of the big warped wooden front door dragging across the floor as it was opened.
A new voice was added to the commotion. Male. Deep. Deeper than The Man's, but smoother. More reserved. The barrier of the walls and ceiling didn't allow his ears to make out any distinct words, but he thought about screaming. Thought about standing and banging on the walls, maybe even the door to alert someone, anyone that he was there, to help him get out. But simply the thought of merely trying to stand up or use his voice had his muscles aching and his throat stinging. There was no way he could actually do it...
Footsteps. Mild protests. Attempts at reasoning. Louder the voices became until it was flat out yelling. The Man was screaming profanities, The Woman crying. He couldn't make sense of any of it. The kitten had ceased suckling on his finger and was squirming again, unsatisfied. The sounds of struggle faded out of the room, the voices disappearing altogether. As much panic as his fatigued, neglected body could muster bubbled up inside of him; now he was truly alone, and no one would ever find him...
A few long, silent moments later, heavy footsteps thumped back in. Two sets, he thought. He should try to cry out, to catch their attention somehow, and although he thought The Man and Woman were the ones to be dragged out, there was no way to know for sure that it wasn't one of them up there, and therefore a feeble attempt of calling out would be useless.
He picked up a few soft voices, neither of which sounded like either of Their's. One set of footsteps seemed to clomp up the stairs to the second floor while the other neared the basement door. He held his breath, pulling his knees tighter to him and shielding the kitten, pressing himself into the corner as far as he possibly could. It felt like a horror movie as he watched the tarnished brass knob rotate and the wooden door eased open. The beam of a flashlight played across the wall, down the stairs, and then light was flooding in. He had to squint his eyes against it; the sun shining through the windows upstairs illuminated the small basement, but whoever was at the top of the staircase continued to point the flashlight across the room until it landed directly on his face. He hid his eyes from the bright assault.
"Ty, I found him!" barked a female voice; it reverberated off the concrete walls and causing him to flinch.
Another voice answered the female from up the stairs and footsteps were quick to clamber back down the upper staircase. The woman at the top of the stairs descended slowly, keeping her flashlight near him but away from his face. Slowly, she approached, leaning down as she went.
"Son, can you hear me?" she murmured. "Are you alright?"
He lifted his head again, peering at her through one squinted eye. She had a round face and wore a dark blue uniform that had a horrible memory flashing through. She was a police officer, though, that he knew, and she was there to help him. Help had finally come.
"We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" she murmured just as another figure appeared at the top of the stairs, blocking out much of the light. "Can you tell me your name, son?" She was offering him her hand as the other figure came down the stairs, speaking into something attached to his uniform. "Do you know your name?"
Of course he knew his name, but that didn't mean he could speak. Even if he could, his name was the least of his worries - he needed them to know about the kitten. Instead of making a motion to answer her, he slowly unraveled his limbs, stretching his legs out a bit and revealing the bloody towel with the tiny animal wrapped inside. Her eyes fell directly to it, and he watched the emotion flood through them. She only nodded, reaching for him further.
"Eren, right? Your name is Eren Jaeger," she said, still trying to coax some sort of relevant response from him. He managed a small nod in response at the same time he heard the door scrape across the floor from upstairs again and more footsteps trample into the house. Reflexively, he pulled his limbs closer to his center again.
"It's okay, honey. It's okay. We're here to help you. We'll take care of you. We'll take care of your kitten. May I touch you? I just want to check your pulse." She held out two fingers. Again he managed a nod. Ever so gently, she pressed her fingers to the side of his neck briefly before turning around to the man. "His pulse is very weak and he's got bruises everywhere. He might have fractured or broken ribs, maybe even damaged organs and lungs may be on the verge of collapse."
A gurney was shuffled down the stairs by two other men. The woman asked him if he could stand, to which he shook his head, and he was slowly lifted from his place in the corner. The movement ached. The pressure ached. A raspy choking sounded from his throat as if he were trying to groan in pain but lacked the voice to do so. A plastic mask was placed over his nose and mouth, his skin was met with fresher, easier to breathe air. He was lifted and was suddenly surrounded by bright, warm sunlight. He shut his eyes, unable to behold such light after being in the dark so long. At some point, the towel was removed from his arms and then the sunlight disappeared again.
He flickered in and out of consciousness. He vaguely remembered being in a small space with a loud wailing above his head, remembered a few people around him, remembered what felt like the motion of a car, or maybe a bus. Eventually it had stopped and he was moved out into the sun again, but it wasn't long before the sky disappeared again and was replaced by speckled ceiling panels and rectangular fluorescent lights. It seemed like there were dozens of people around him after the white lights stopped flicking by, one after another after another. A few hands touched him, a few voices spoke to him, but their words seemed muffled and he couldn't respond anyway, with the plastic covering his mouth and his throat stinging so badly.
Eventually, things seemed to calm down and he could make sense of a room - one painted a soft beige hue with a photo of some mountains on the wall to his right. Something was clamped onto his left index finger, and there were tubes running up both arms, taped down. He'd been stripped of his dirtied clothes and wiped down before he was dressed in a thin baby blue gown, tied with what looked like ribbon around his waist. He'd been conscious as they worked on making him comfortable, but only barely. His mind seemed to have gone into a state of shock from things changing so quickly while his body was struggling to keep up.
Eventually, he grew tired of staring up at the light above his head and shut his eyes. The world slowly seemed to fade out, and all he could think about before he was folded into a comfortable blanket of unconsciousness was that little kitten.