Chapter 6
Get Used to It
Arthur paced back and forth in the room that seems to be getting more and more cramped with each passing day. It's not like they're putting more people in there, but Arthur is becoming a bit claustrophobic. Should he get used to that?
"Why are you pacing?" Peter asked.
That was a question Arthur has heard an annoying amount of times. Should he get used to that? "I don't know, I'm restless."
Peter cocked his head to the side. "Why?"
Arthur didn't feel like playing this game, so he only shook his head. He didn't feel like talking, he didn't feel like doing anything except running away, but that was impossible. Well, at least with Peter. Arthur couldn't leave a ten year old all alone in a cell with men who wants to kill him. Peter can't be alone again.
"You're quieter today." Peter concluded, stating the obvious, "Do you know something that I don't?"
Yes, Arthur thought, I know that we can't get out unless they let us out, but that's never going to happen. "No, Peter, I don't"
Peter scoffed.
"What?" Arthur asked accusingly.
Peter shook his head. "Nothing."
Arthur wanted to scream in frustration. Everything frustrated him, especially Peter not giving him a straight answer. But then again, Peter was probably frustrated by all of Arthur's lies. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I wish I was home with Mom and Dad."
Arthur stopped his pacing and turned to Peter. "Mom and Dad? Earlier you said you had two dads."
The boy shrugged. "Well, my dad, Berwald, calls my other dad, Tino, his 'wife'. Also Tino said I could call him Mom if I wanted to."
"Okay, thanks for clarifying."
Peter looked up to Arthur. "What do your sons call you? You said you have a husband."
Arthur sat on the ground. "They call me dad."
"So they call your husband mom?"
Arthur laughed for the first time in God knows how long. "No, they call him papa."
"Papa? That's what I call my grandfather." Peter commented.
Arthur chuckled. "Well, Francis is older than me."
Peter tilted his head to the side. "Francis?"
"My husband." Arthur was smiling as he answered Peter's question. He actually felt peaceful, so why not continue on this topic? It was a better topic than any other one. "Do you have any other family?"
Peter beamed a smile. "Yeah, I have three uncles."
"What are they like?"
"My uncle Matthias is really weird. My uncle Lukas is nice to me, but not Matthias, and there's my uncle Emil who's is kinda awkward around me. Uncle Emil is pretty quiet, too." Peter explained. "What about you? Do you have any uncles?" Peter exclaimed loudly.
Arthur shook his head. "No, both of my parents were only children. But I do have brothers."
Interest sparked in Peter's eyes. "What are they like?"
Arthur thought hard. How could he explain his brothers without cursing? "Well, I have three of them. Alistair, who's the oldest. He's kind of rude, and very blunt, but he has a soft side, which is my sons. Then there's Patrick, the second oldest, who is…" Arthur had to pause so he didn't call him a wanker. "He's very energetic, but he used to be pretty mean when he was younger. Finally there's Dylan, the third oldest. He's a lot like me, just a lot stranger."
"So not as much of a buzzkill?" Peter chuckled.
Arthur scowled. "What would make you think that I am a buzzkill?"
Peter smiled deviously. "I can just tell."
Arthur groaned and Peter laughed.
The door opened.
Arthur stood up protectively, and walked in front of Peter.
"Hey, boy." The man with the scar said in a strangely kind voice. Arthur narrowed his eyes angrily.
"Yes?" Peter asked cautiously.
"I'm gonna to take you home now, okay?"
"What?" Arthur exclaimed.
"Home?" Peter said with a desperate tone in his voice.
"Yeah, you're parents paid, you can go home now." The scarred man explained.
Confusion crossed Arthur. They actually kept their word? No, this has to be a trick, right?
"C'mon, I'll take you home now."
Peter jumped up from his sitting position on the floor.
"Wait." Arthur ordered, "This could be a trick."
"Hey!" The scarred leader exclaimed accusingly, "I may be a heartless bastard, but I keep my word! They paid, so he can go home."
Arthur looked to the floor. That didn't seem right, it sounded like a lie, but Peter needs to go home. He needs to be with his parents and uncles again. Arthur sighed. "Be careful, Peter." Arthur ordered.
"I will." Peter promised ecstatically before leaving.
The scarred man's smiled turned from kind, to devious as he looked to Arthur with a chuckle. He closed the door whilst a cold chill ran down Arthur's back. He began to pant, worrying for Peter. But why? He should be relieved, Peter was home and safe. Arthur had no one to protect, no one to fret about, no one to accidentally hurt, and now he could think of a way to get out without endangering anyone else. He looked to the ground, sadness filling him. Arthur was by himself. Alone. Completely alone… Should he get used to that?
.
"Kirkland, wake up!" The scarred leader yelled angrily as he slammed the door open, making Arthur jolt in surprise.
Arthur turned and glared at the man. "What the hell-"
The man interrupted. "We're leaving."
"Why-"
Arthur was interrupted again. "Get him. Put him in the car."
"Get away from me!" Arthur yelled protectively.
Two men came to him and grabbed him by the arms, and a third grabbed the chain between the shackles on Arthur's wrists. Anger flooded the Brit, and his eyes blazed. Arthur planted his feet on the ground, refusing to move. "Let go of me." He hissed.
"Walk!" The man to his right side ordered.
"No! Let go of me!"
The man with the scar turned around quickly and stormed into the room. "Kirkland, are we having a problem?"
"Let me go." Arthur ordered threateningly.
The man smirked, his scar curling slightly with his lips. "Give me the money."
Arthur intensified his glare, lowering his head, trying to intimidate. "I can't if I'm in here!"
The man's smile grew larger. In a quick motion, he pulled out his gun and placed it on Arthur's forehead. "What was that you said?" He asked cockily.
Arthur snorted and held his glare.
The scarred leader cocked the gun, making Arthur flinch. The man laughed while Arthur lowered his glare to the floor. "That's what I thought."
The men to Arthur's sides pushed him forward and lead him out of the hotel, and back into the damn black car. The threw a black sack over his head and sped away.
.
The sack was angrily ripped off of Arthur's head and a gun was shoved in his face, only centimeters away from his right eye. "Listen here, Kirkland," The man with the scar began, "we're at a hotel. We're gonna to get a room for one night, and don't ya dare try anything, get it?"
Arthur nodded.
"You and me are gonna get a room, understand?"
Arthur panted. "What are you planning on doing to me when we're in said room?"
The man's face fell neutral. "If you're thinking sex or anything, I'm not gonna do that to a man. Homos make me sick."
Arthur narrowed his eyes in anger. Of course he's homophobic, that just makes everything so much easier for me.
The scarred man cleared his throat. "You're not gonna try anything, right?"
"I wouldn't dare." Arthur said hatefully.
"Unchain him." He ordered, getting out of the car.
Arthur thought of running right then, but they have a car. They can catch him. They have a gun. They can shoot him. Arthur sighed and exited the car. He walked even to the man who had a gun in his face only seconds ago. The same man who kidnapped him days ago. They came to the front door of the hotel. A hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't make me kill you, alright? Don't try anything." The man repeated.
"I won't."
They entered another hotel, but Arthur was glad that this one wasn't abandoned and didn't smell like mold.
"How may I help you two?" The clerk said, with a bored expression on her face.
"I need two rooms with two beds each." The man said.
"Can I get a name for that?"
The man paused, thinking of a lie. "Smith."
The most common last name? Really? Very creative. No one will suspect that.
"Sir, are you okay?"
Arthur turned his head to the clerk. "Me?"
She nodded.
"Oh, I… got in a fight…" Arthur lied, "you should see the other guy." He shrugged.
"Alright." She said suspiciously, "Mr. Smith, please fill out this information."
"Mr. Smith" nodded. "Of course." He said, pulling a pen out of the cup beside him.
Arthur pretended to sniffle loudly, trying to get the attention of the receptionist. It worked. Arthur slowly mouthed the words "Help me" to her. She narrowed her eyes, still staring. Arthur mouthed the words even slower this time, and she nodded once.
She cleared her throat. "What's your name? You're kinda cute."
"Mine? It's Smith." The man with the scar answered.
"No. Yours." She said, nodding to Arthur. "I'm Wendy."
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but "Smith" interrupted him, not looking up from the paper he was currently writing on. "His name is Chris."
Wendy looked to Arthur and Arthur shook his head slightly. Wendy blinked at him. Slowly and cautiously, Arthur mouthed his name to her. Wendy cocked her head in confusion, and Arthur repeated himself silently. She wrote something down.
"Here you go, Wendy." Smith said with a wink.
Wendy delivered a fake smile. "Room two twelve." She said, handing him a key.
"Thank you," Smith began, "we're going to grab our stuff."
"Okie dokie." She replied.
"Smith" lead them outside and to the car. "We can't stay here."
Cold fear shot through Arthur's chest.
"What? Why not?" Someone else argued.
The man with the scar ignored him. "Get in the car, Kirkland."
"No." Arthur hissed.
"Get in the fuckin' car!" He screamed, pushing Arthur into the car.
Arthur was pushed down, but before he was completely shoved in the car, and Arthur saw Wendy through the window, watching in horror. Once inside, the car began moving, and the sack was on Arthur's head once again. The black sack was something that Arthur was sick of. Should he get used to that?
.
Arthur fell to the ground, pain in his entire body. He had been taken to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, shoved into a somewhat large room, and beaten unconscious. And when he woke, he was knocked out again after another short beating. The second time Arthur woke, he was beaten loopy, and thrown into a cramped room made of cement. There was only one way out, and that was to get on the other side of that large, heavy, metal door. But that was impossible. The room was cold, and badly lit, with a single lightbulb hanging from a single chain.
His body ached, he was bleeding and bruised. He had been beaten before, but nothing this bad. Nothing like this. They said it was because he told the receptionist. So "Smith" did see that. Arthur moved to the wall to the left, leaning his shoulder against the corner, and he stretched his legs in front of him. He stared down at his feet, on shoe was missing, and Arthur wasn't really sure why.
He groaned in pain as he shifted uncomfortably. This pain is probably only the beginning, Arthur, get used to it.
.
12:00 a.m.
Francis mindlessly flipped through channel after channel, zoning out at the flashing colors. He stopped on the News station which brought him back to the real world. A short, blonde woman who was probably around thirty was standing there. Her name read Wendy Zane. The news reporter was talking, so Francis turned up the volume.
"The case of Arthur Kirkland, a school librarian, husband, and father was kidnapped two weeks ago without a trace, well at least until Wendy Zane came to us with new information. She was working at her hotel called 'The Kickback Inn' in Missouri, when a man with a scar came to her with Arthur Kirkland…"
The news reporter silenced and it cut to Wendy speaking.
"Something seemed off with them, but I couldn't put my finger on it." She said, "I realized that the blonde one, Arthur Kirkland, had bruises on his face, his hair was very messy, he looked very tired, and he reeked. I asked him if he was okay, but he said he just got in a fight. The man who was with him, named Smith, started filling out some information, and Arthur mouthed the words 'Help me' to me, and I knew I had to do something." She explained, "I asked for his name, and Smith said it was Chris, but then Kirkland shook his head at me, and mouthed his real name, but I couldn't make it all out. I could make out 'Kirkland', but that's it. Then I remembered the news talking about Arthur Kirkland, and he matched the pictures of him. On their way out, I heard Smith yell 'Get in the fucking car!' and then shove Kirkland in it, and they sped off. I didn't get their license plate, unfortunately..."
The news reported cut back, but Francis didn't hear it. He stared at the screen. He's alive? Francis thought. He's really alive? Tears rolled down Francis' face. Although he wasn't with him, Arthur was alive. There was some hope.
An entire chapter about Arthur, well, almost. Francis has hope now, and Arthur has been moved to the familiar warehouse seen in Sollen Wir Tanzen? (if you read it).
Reviews?
~Feliks Out (^J^)