The minutes blended into hours.

The hunger in him grew by the hour; he couldn't hear his stomach complaining anymore. That had stopped a day ago. At least he thought it was a day ago. Time seemed irrelevant here.

Soon, he stopped talking to Matt because his voice wouldn't work. It was as if his empty tummy had told the rest of him to stop working. All he felt like was lying either on the floor or on his bed. He tried scrambling up to his perch, but his arms shook badly and caused him to fall on his back. After three tries he decided to forget his favorite place and be content to stay grounded.

I'm not giving up! he thought fiercely I am Flamebird 5 and I will not give in to fear! I'll escape, or Dad will find me!

Those words seemed hollow a few hours later, when nothing seemed to have changed. He was hungry and weak and a little scared. Scared that his father would never find him. Scared that he would die here. Scared that...that he would both die and not be found.

Daddy...I'm scared. he sniffed, hugging himself. I wanna come home.

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"It's been two days. He really is improving isn't he?" Randall said smugly, noting the boy would not even acknowledge the McGinnis brat, instead choosing to curl up on the bed and cry himself to sleep.

"This is going even smoother than I hoped. Perhaps the next phase shall be enough to break him."

"I hope so too." Brent said, licking his lips, "I can't wait to have my toy back."

"I may move that phase down, depending on his progress. After all, since he is too weak to fight back, what is the point of insulting him until he flies into a rage? However...flying into a rage is crucial for your next session with him, so perhaps we can combine the two."

"Whatever. As long as I get to play I don't care about the rest of it."

Randall smiled

"Good. Prepair to start then, Brent. He will be yours in a day."