In Search of Home

Chapter 41

Lilac, he realized, grip tightening on the papers enough to crinkle them. She had been documenting their whole stay. She must have had some hidden camera on her, considering the poor camera quality. Viktor couldn't remember seeing anything on her person, though. Granted, he had never even seen a camera until yesterday. It had to be discrete enough to surpass the ringmaster, after all. 

There were pictures of the others, too, though to a much lesser extent. They had never suffered too terrible of injuries, except for abject exhaustion. Viktor had always been the plaything.

As he flipped through the papers, though, fighting back the bile that rose in his throat, the background started to change. There was one picture of when they had been at the vet's for the first time, right after getting taken away. His malnourished form was seated on the examination table, eyes half-lidded and glassy. His neck was a mess, bloodied and skin shredded like ribbons. Almost unconsciously, his hand traveled up to the bumpy mess of scar tissue encircling his neck.

On the next page, Viktor's grip on the papers tightened even more. There, situated in neat rows and columns, were his friends. Pedro, Ezekiel, Aiko, Nikolas... the pet store must have advertised their stock of humans. He wondered if anyone was still there, or if they had all been sold. He hoped that they were doing okay. At least he knew for certain with Nikolas. He drank in their faces, eager for the reminder of what they looked like.

The pictures were taken while they had been unaware. Likely, they hadn't even known what a camera had even looked like. There were some pictures of them, specifically Zach and Skylar, looking at the camera suspiciously. Viktor couldn't blame them. The aliens they had first been in contact with had been less than kind.

Rukka was still speaking, earnest and demanding. Maybe she was a human rights activist, he mused, flipping to the next page reluctantly. He heard the others in the room grumbling under their breath. 

It was pictures of him again, this time at Vok'Rul's place. Rukka must have been there the first day he had gotten picked up, because there were a few pictures of him, wide-eyed and snarling, in the carrier. A massive wall of text was written underneath the picture. Viktor slowly flipped to the next page, leaning against Vok'Rul's tail as he started to relax. It curled around him, clinking lightly.

Times were better, he reminded himself firmly. He wasn't in the arena anymore. There was no one around him that could easily vent their frustrations onto him. He wasn't fighting for his life every single day.

The last few pictures were of him, domestic and happier. There was a still from the news about his fight with one of Oorah's species, locked in combat. Another picture followed, him falling asleep in Vok'Rul's arms. There were a few pictures taken in Vok'Rul's mansion, though the alien was always a subject within them. The taller alien didn't take too many pictures, he figured. Viktor had hardly even seen him use his phone unless it was to call someone.

The papers ended there, thick and heavy in Viktor's hands. It was a little weird, he thought distantly, to see his life on this planet laid out in pictures like this. 

Air was struggling to make it into his lungs. The pictures had thrown him off-kilter. He felt as though he were about to crumble under the weight of them. Their meaning. His abuse, his trauma, it was all laid out in front of him. He couldn't deny it, and now, everyone in this room knew about it. They thought he was an animal, just something to be pitied. 

But when they proved their intelligence, their sentience, and their time on this planet was documented for history, other people would know. His friends, his dad, they would all know what he went through. 

And there was no way he could avoid it, he realized, feeling his lungs beginning to burn. Vok'Rul was an obviously important figure on this planet, and Viktor was his pet. His experiences were going to be broadcasted everywhere.