Juliana's POV

I stared at the boy who now stood a few feet in front of me. He looked halfway between trying to decide whether or not he wanted to come over to my side of the table, or retreat to his dad.

The guy looked to be about my age. He was tall, like literally everyone in our family; however, unlike most of our relatives, he had a pretty skinny stature. Not to say that he was small by any means, but compared to some of the people in this house, he looked almost nerdy.

I'm not trying to be judgy or anything, however I did find his choice in clothing to be a bit odd. He had on khaki shorts, a dinosaur shirt, and to top it off he had what looked to be a small firefighter figurine clutched in his palm that he unconsciously rubbed his thumb over.

. The only reason I found this a bit odd was because most of the kids I know have aged out of those sorts of things.

But whatever. We all have our own interests.

"Hi." He said shyly waving at me before scurrying over to his dad.

At least, I'm hoping that's his dad, because I'm hoping that this is Justin. As in my childhood best friend Justin.

"As Justin seems to have forgotten how to properly introduce himself," Uncle Stefano teased before turning back to me. "This is Justin. I'm not sure if you remember him, but you used to be attached at the hip when you were younger."

I nodded, looking at Justin with a small smile.

"Yeah, you woke me up this morning. And we used to play Mosca Cieca- er, Blind Man's Bluff together, right?" I almost missed the odd look Uncle Stefano gave me when I corrected myself from using the Italian translation of the game, but Justin cut in before I could question it.

"Yeah! Sorry about that by the way." He said sheepishly before excitedly continuing.

"We were the bestest of friends, we used to climb trees together, and we used to play out there-" Justin pointed to the sliding glass doors that led into the backyard where I had failed to notice that there was still a playset looming in the distance, just within eyesight of certain seats at the table.

"For hours and hours and hours and-"

"Justin, baby I think she gets the point." Uncle Stefano gently cut Justin off. "How about this? How about you go and play with Hunter for a little bit, and when Juliana is done eating I'll see if she wants to go out and join you, okay?"

Justin nodded quickly before running off to find Hunter.

"No running!" Uncle Stefano called after him, but it was too late.

He shook his head with a small huff at Justin's actions. I tensed a little when I heard a door slam.

"That boy... I'm sorry about him. I specifically told him to reign it in around you, but sometimes he can't help himself."

"Oh, no he was fine. Promise. He was actually a little refreshing, I've not talked to someone quite as enthusiastic as him in a while." I said with a slight smile.

"Well enthusiastic is one word for it. I can't help but think that his age regression has helped us all in some way or another."

"His what?" I asked, not understanding the words that he had just said. Age and regression? Was I familiar with both those words, yes. Together, no.

Uncle Stefano gave me yet another odd look.

"Nobody told you?"

"Told me what?" I asked, starting to get a little nervous that I was obviously missing something.

"Justin has a unique coping mechanism. It was suggested to us by his therapist after... You know." He said, not really looking at me, but more at the wall behind me.

No, I don't know. What don't I know? What happened to Justin? He seemed okay to me. Sure, maybe he acted a little immaturely, but other than that nothing out of the ordinary. And a therapist? Since when is Justin in therapy? Is Justin okay? What happened to Justin?

Unbeknownst to my inner panic, Uncle Stefano keeps talking, further explaining the situation.

"You see, afterwards, Justin was really shaken up. Couldn't sleep at night, and when he did he had constant night terrors. He barely ate, and refused to talk to us or his friends. Stopped participating in school. It was a night and day switch between who he used to be and who he was then. We were trying our best to help him but we didn't know how." I watched Uncle Stefano's tortured face as he talked about what happened to Justin.

"After almost three years of trying anything and everything to help him, his therapist finally recommended that we try a coping mechanism called age regression. Which is essentially where we help nudge him into a younger mindset.

At first it didn't really work. Justin was resistant. He didn't like the idea of "acting like a little kid" but eventually he caved and tried it. Things were a little rough at first, but once we got through those road bumps, it worked great. He was able to slip into the mindset of an eight year old, which in hindsight was about a year before the... event so it made sense that that is where he would go.

This doesn't affect his social life, or educational process in any way, he still goes to school, he still hangs out with his friends, but at home he does tend to be regressed more often than not. It's like drawing, or listening to music. It's a way for him to centre himself, and cope in a healthy way.

Especially when things get stressful. That's probably why he's regressed right now, with everything that happened last night." Uncle Stefano paused, looking at me with an assessing gaze.

"Okay..." I let out a breath at the information I had just been told, trying to get my thoughts together. "So Justin is physically 15, but he's mentally an 8 year old?" I asked, trying to understand.

"Close. He goes between the mindsets of an eight year old and a fifteen year old. He, most of the time, has control over how old he mentally is. However large and sudden stressors can cause an unintentional slip. Like today, it seems."

"Okay. I think I get it now." I said, nodding to myself.

"Good. Now eat." He said, nodding towards my food.

I groaned and he laughed.







After Uncle Stefano made true on his promise and wouldn't allow me to leave before I had shoved down half of my eggs, I had asked him about playing with Justin, because it only seemed right after being so rude to him earlier.

He said it was fine, and to be careful, yada yada, the stuff parent's have to say.

We went outside, and due to me complaining about the heat of the Italian summer, we settled on drawing with chalk on the patio.

"You're a lot quieter than you used to be." Justin complained softly after a few awkward moments of silence.

"I like listening to you talk." I explained, filling in one of the leaves on my sad looking tree.

"Oh, but I want you to have a chance to talk too." Justin said in a much more upbeat tone as he continued to draw what I'm guessing to be a... fire truck? To me it kind of just looked like red squiggly lines in the shape of a rectangle.

"I wouldn't know what to talk about." Justin gave me an exaggerated look.

"Anything. It doesn't matter geez, tell me about your favourite colour, hobby, animal?"

"Purple, don't have one, and horses." I answered off the top of my head and Justin shook his head while hiding a smile.

"Everyone has a hobby." He said.

"I have hobbies. I just don't have a favourite." I said and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine, what's a hobby you enjoy? Better madam?" Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"I like to draw."

"I can see that. That's a very impressive creek. Anyplace specific?" A voice sounded behind me, making me turn to see who it was.

A guy, most likely one of my older cousins, was walking towards us.

"Um, thanks." I said, not sure if his reaction was genuine or if he was simply being nice. To me it looked like shit.

"No, no place specific. I don't mean to be rude but, who are you?" I asked, brushing some of my hair out of my eyes, looking up at him.

"Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Elijah. I'm- I'm really sorry about yesterday. I didn't realise I hadn't taken my meds, so my brain was all over the place, but that's no excuse."

"It's fine. I survived." I said, trying to lighten the noticeably tense atmosphere. "Do you wanna draw?" I asked, holding up a green piece of chalk.

"My favourite colour. Thank you." Elijah said, sitting in a way that made our little group a half circle, the drawings in the middle of us all.

"Eli, she liked to draw, just like Elliot." Justin said happily.

"We'll have to tell him. I'm sure he'd love to have a drawing buddy."

We stayed like that for a while, making random doodles before Justin got bored and wanted to do something else.

"Justin, you need to drink some water first. You'll get dehydrated." Elijah reminded him, while Justin whined.

"But water is so gross. It's boring." I let out a little huff of a laugh and Elijah narrowed his gaze on me.

"You think that doesn't apply to you too?" He said and I whined.

"But water is so gross. And it's boring Elijah. It's boring." I complained, laughing when he groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Just like when you were kids." With that he went inside, warning us that he would be back with water, and that we would drink it.

"Come on." Justin said, getting up and grabbing my arm in an attempt to pull me somewhere.

"Hold on, hold on." I said as I stood up. "Where are we going? Elijah will be right back."

"To the playset. He won't care. I want to swing." Justin succeeded in pulling me to the swingset attached to the large playset before I finally froze.

Justin rushed to a swing and looked at me expectantly.

"Well? Get on." He motioned his head to the swing next to him, while he started using his feet to push himself back and forth.

"Uh n-no thank you." I declined, stepping to the side to ensure he wouldn't kick me once he started swinging.

"Oh come on, please?" Justin begged.

"How about I push you?" I bargained and he quickly agreed.

I had fought off the fog around me as I walked behind him and started to push him.

Out, in. Out, in, Out in.

Why are you such a child!

In, out. In, out. In, out.

"No, it's too late now, if you're going to act like a child, I'll treat you like one."

Out, in. Out, in. Out, in.

"Please. I won't do it again. Please don't take me down there." I screamed, trying to retch my arm from his grasp.

He ignored me, continuing to drag me down the stairs, down to the cells.

He dragged me along, screaming and crying, past other prisoners, past guards who I knew would do nothing to help me. They all either turn a blind eye, or join in.

We reached a cell I hadn't been to before.

This one was completely blocked in, it had four walls and a door, a standard chair in the middle, and all types of torture weapons strewn across one of the walls.

He threw me down after closing the door, sending me straight to the floor.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

He cranked something on one of the walls, making a swing come down from nowhere. I was a regular swing, except the seat was wooden, and a lot wider and lengthier than a normal swing.

"Strip." He said once he turned back to me.

I looked at him through hazy eyes. My tears had all but dried by now. There was no use for them anymore. Nothing was stopping this.

Sniffling, I stood on shaky legs, quickly wiping my eyes before I pulled off my jumper, then my leggings, then my panties.

I wasn't wearing my training bra today. I didn't really like them, and I saw no true need for them. But at this moment, I sort of wished that I had decided to wear it. Simply to have another reason to stall. To have one more second.

Once all my clothes were discarded he simply looked at my body. Taking in every bone, every nonexistent curve. Though at this age, even though I didn't have much to look at, his gaze still made me uncomfortable. It made me feel disgusting, and my skin crawled with tiny invisible ants.

"On the swing."

I walked over hesitantly, before sitting down on the swing that hovered to his left.

"No." He said, stopping me.

I looked up, confused.

"On your stomach." I reluctantly rounded the swing, holding his gaze for half a second as I lowered myself so that my stomach rested on the seat of the swing.

It was very uncomfortable, as the edges of the wooden seat dug into my ribs and hip bones. The swing was too high for my feet to be on the ground. Even getting up I had to jump and pull myself.

He let me rest there, waiting for the swing to stop moving before he walked leisurely over to the door.

Two males walked in, his third and fourth in command. I saw them often. More often than I appreciated as hardly any of our encounters were positive.

He walked back towards me, and thankfully his two baboons didn't follow.

He crouched in front of me, grasping my chin in a misleadingly gentle way.

"You know this is for your own good. Right? You know that I don't like doing this to you. That I don't want to. But I have to. That you continuously force me to correct your foul and childish behaviour. Right?" He asked me in a soft voice.

"Yes." I whispered, unable to say anything else without crying again.

"Good. Then you also know that acting like a child is inexcusable at your age." He said, his grip matching his voice. Becoming increasingly harsh.

"You are about to be ten years old. That's double digits. Were you not the one who told me that made you a "big girl" now? Big girls don't play on the swings like insolent little kids, now do they?"

"No sir." My chin ached, and his grip prevented me from speaking very easily, much less loudly.

"Exactly. Big girls don't play with little kid toys. They play with big kid toys." With that, his two henchmen walked over one coming to stand beside him, the other somewhere behind me.

"Put your hands behind your back." I looked at him with a pleading look, and he pinned me with a harsh gaze, warning me about disobeying.

I put my hands behind my back, wincing at how tightly henchman #2 bound my wrists.

"If you want to play on the swings, all you have to do is ask." He said, before standing up and walking away.

"Spread your legs." Henchman #2 said, and I had no choice but to obey as I saw Henchman #1 pulling down his fly out of the corner of my eye. My gaze glued to him, who stood silently by the door.

He could stop this, he didn't have to let them do this. But then again, I earned it, didn't I?

Afterall, big girls don't play on swings.

"Julie!" My gaze snapped up to see Elijah standing there, three water bottles in his hand, and an annoyed look on his face.

Justin had turned slightly in his swing, looking at me as I continued to push him back and forth.

I grabbed the swing, jerking him to a stop, and looked guiltily at Elijah.

"Sorry." I apologised.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking less annoyed and more concerned now.

"Yes. I'm fine."



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I know I sucked at explaining the whole age regression thing, no matter how many times I explained it, there would have still been missing information. Age regression (obviously) is not a one size fits all type thing.

Also, I didn't originally plan to take this chapter so dark, but who do we think the person she kept referring to as "him" is?