From the very start, their autonomy was violently stripped bare. They were taken and held down and beaten to submission-enslaved and collared and owned. Years upon years drag, time wasted in the confinement of normalized abuse. They solemnly accepted that they'd rot away; their leg broken and long since stopped hurting, the infection slowly eating away their very own bones. It was too late for hope. It was too late for a miracle. Until it really isn't. (In which you get hit by a car, punch someone in the face, and self-sign yourself as a caretaker to two aliens.)