It started out slowly. So slowly, in fact, that no one, not even the two involved, seemed to notice. The day they did notice was on a cool, chilly day in November, reaching about 40 degrees. This is extremely unusual for south Florida.
The slate-haired boy sat behind the counter at his mediocre job at Dairy Queen, holding his ipod to his ear, listening. Suddenly, the door flew open and the boy with the mohawk-mullet came in, sobbing quietly. A scarf hid his face from view. Zexion, the slate-haired one, jumped from behind the counter, handing Evan his ipod. "Watch the counter for me, okay?" He ran over to see Demyx, who had seated himself. "Demyx, what..." He stopped mid-sentence, having torn the scarf from Demyx's face. "Oh, Demyx, what happened?!"
Demmy just shivered and said, "He told me he wouldn't let me leave. I didn't believe him..." He kept murmuring quietly. Zexion got up and grabbed a sundae for Demmy to hold up against his throbbing head. He finally had a chance to look at him up close. His beautiful, pale, young skin was covered in bruises and scratches, his left eye black and swollen shut.