Can't Save Them All

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar.

Phil tried to silently sigh as he sat at yet another red light. It was late, no one was on the road. Why do the lights hate him? He glanced in the mirror, eyes scanning over the boy seated in his back seat.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. Three things highlighting the kid's history and current placement in the world. He didn't know if the boy was asleep in the backseat or not. He hoped so, the kid had at least one panic attack already and those take a lot out of you. Unfortunately, he realizes that the boy was most likely sitting with his eyes closed. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy was unable to sleep, being in a new place with new rules and new expectations. A new owner. Phil cringed at that word. Owner.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. A file folder in the passenger seat. Detailing the boy's entire life. Everything the kid has been through wrapped up in a little folder. Written up like a report. The folder a stark reminder that he is no better than the ones before, the ones he hates, the ones that purchase these children. This kid. Damn, he needs to find out the kid's name. He cannot keep thinking of him as 'the kid'.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. He finally hit a sequence of green lights as he thought through what was going to happen when he made it home. He has a room set up. A small room, a simple room to not overwhelm him. Phil was lucky to have some friends that rehome hybrids. Friends that will support him. Friends that gave and will give advice as he needs it. It's different when he's the one that's actually doing the rehoming, rather than just helping them out from time to time. It's harder. It's more terrifying.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. Phil glances in the mirror again as he merges onto the highway. The boy has not moved from his position. His chest is rising and falling so at least he's alive. Still tense though, seemingly ready to jump up and serve as soon as Phil needs him. It makes Phil sick. Some naive part of him hoped that as the boy was resting, he would look younger. Relax a bit. Just like in those books, the stories that glamorize the trade. Maybe it was the vulnerability of resting, especially with his eyes closed. The boy seems just as tense as he is when he's awake. No childhood innocence to be seen. Probably long lost.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. He'll have to start with the shackles. That'll be the easiest to take off. Most slaves don't wear them in the house so it won't be too much of a change for the boy. Slave. Phil cringes at the word but that's what the kid is. And Phil is a Master now. Even if he's trying to help. He is a Master. That's a choice that will keep him up at night.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. After the shackles will have to come the muzzle. The kid will need to eat. Should he take it off tonight or wait until tomorrow? Tonight. The boy has gone hours without drinking water, he'll at least need some before bed. It's necessary, but makes Phil anxious. What if the kid panics? He's already had one panic attack. What if he has another one and Phil can't calm him down? What if he uses his siren ability and escapes? Or hurts Phil? Or makes Phil chop his own hand off? He thinks he read a book about that happening, mind control and stuff. Things sirens can do.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. Ok, maybe Phil is over reacting. He is just a boy. And if he was going to use his siren ability, if he had the full ability to begin with, the kid would be long gone. Definitely not in the slave trade. And he was trained. Phil noticed how the boy obeyed every command immediately. This one had been enslaved for a while. He's sure exact details could be found in the folder but it's long enough for the kid to be well trained. Phil cringed at the line of thinking. The boy was a human, not some animal that needed to be trained a certain way. Hopefully with time he will be able to be a kid again. It'll take a bit but hopefully.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. Phil took the exit as he thought about the last object. The collar. Phil hated it. Hated the constant reminder of what he just did, the constant reminder that he has a slave. Phil knows that no matter his own opinion on the collar, the kid's comfort was the most important in this situation. He had been warned about taking a collar off too soon, how easily they become panicked. Some thinking they were being abandoned, others thinking it was just a trap to trick them into getting in trouble. They all knew that taking off the collar was a fate worse than death.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. He did have a softer, more comfortable collar at home that he will eventually trade out for the boy's current one, but he was told to wait a bit. Wait for the kid to settle in. New collars can mean many, many different things and until they are used to each other, Phil doesn't know where the boy's mind will go. Hopefully, Phil can use it as a reward rather than freak the kid out. Maybe after a bit of time, years down the road, the kid will want the collar off. Phil knows that's a long shot. He's heard stories about how some rehabbed hybrids never want to remove their collar and end up replacing it with a choker that they choose themselves. That the weight around their neck has become a comfort. That they still panic if they wake up without it. He hoped that eventually he could get the boy to at least do that, even if he never allows his neck to become bare.

Shackles. Muzzle. Collar. Phil turns into the driveway and pulls into the garage. He'll have to take this one step at a time. Try to do this with as few panic attacks as possible. Taking one last look at his new charge, Phil prepares himself for the rest of the night. He takes a deep breath and turns off the car, ready to begin.