So I've decided to stop reviewing and give this whole thing a try. D'you know how awful I've felt for never updating a fic of mine? Awful. Beatles ruined my Outsiders obsession…OHMY GOD MY CEREAL LOOKS LIKE IT'S SAD! Heh. Organic fruit loops do that… anyway, that's why I'm writing this.
Please note that I don't own anyone. Except Jeannot… I own him.

Prologue

When you think back on things you've done or said, you can't help but see them in a whole new light. I've been here for what seems like years, time having blended into one long strip that consists of me slowly losing my mind, and I've lost the feeling in my right wrist. You know how I first said I would get out of this alive and completely okay? With a witty remark and the music swelling, Lucy running into my arms and everything as it should be, but I know it won't be. Because I could very well die in here, with the incessant humming of the radiator and the constant visits from my captor that are anything but pleasant.

I could die, and nobody would ever know I'm down here.

Sometimes at night I hear the floor above me creak and for a moment my heart leaps, pounding painfully against the ribs I'm sure by now are broken. I can't stop the hope that keeps gnawing at my insides, a mocking sort of emotion, to be honest, reminding me that nobody knows where I am and why I disappeared.

I can't breathe so well… not well after the first night or so when the mildew seemed to settle into my lungs and my breathing sounds more like a death rattle with every passing second. There are times when I wonder if I can just let go and stop breathing, forget about the stale air and the pain it takes to get any of that oxygen into my lungs. But I can't stop breathing… I'm not going to let that… thing know he's won.

Damn my pride.

There are times when I hear people and voices of people I know. There are other times when Max is right in front of me with a big grin on his face as he fiddles with my hair, tells me that Lucy is waiting if I can just get out, but every time I move it burns and I know that any tough skin on my wrists is gone and I'm burning the softer, more vulnerable layer underneath.

Once in a while I drift off but I always wake up. He tells me that if I don't focus he'll turn it up; the heat, I mean. Max comes by… tells me to focus, just like him and tells me Lucy will come by soon. I always smile, a forgiving sort of thing as if I forgive Max for not coming by and getting me out of here.

I'm terrified. Completely terrified, lost, confused… I haven't eaten in days and I've been drinking water that's been on the floor for days. My clothes are more or less missing and I've got a psychotic bastard in the upstairs rooms keeping me chained to a radiator.

I don't think I'm going to make it through the night.