Two nights and he wasn't home, someone should be worrying about him, right? Right? What if no one cared? What if no one noticed? What if they thought he was just doing one of his long trips? But no, he wasn't.
Two days ago he was walking down the street, following a breakout that needed to be told, but not knowing how to approach. He was after a kid, not a teenager, and those were harder to approach. Even more with their parents around. However, someone noticed him and he wasn't smart enough to tell the kid was just bait. When he could realize of the total danger he was in he was already in a chair.
That chair had been for the past two days his only friend. Literally. Because water, fire, and his captors were nothing but enemies. They spent hours asking him. Once and again the same question. Where was John Young. As if he was going to tell. No. He didn't, but instead, had to be in constant pain.
Cuts. Burns. Drowning. Beating.
He was put under so much stressed the only thing he did was to remain calm and try to reach for someone to help him. Someone would.
Someone will notice. Someone will come.
That was all he could think of. that was the only thing keeping him awake.
