The rest of the day is a blur to me. Yassen is busy making calls and sending emails but I pay no attention to him. I simply feel numb. Life is happening but I'm merely an observer, an outsider watching the goings on. Yassen snaps me out of this state by threatening to force food down my throat if I don't eat. I sincerely believe he would take himself up on his offer.

I eat half a sandwich and resume my position on the end of the bed, watching.

Night comes too fast for my liking and looking back I don't know how I spent my waking hours. I don't dare admit this to Yassen for he would surely have some snide comment for me which I could really go without.

I've managed to translate bits of his calls, which were in Russian, but haven't learned much. My Russian is rusty. He did however tell me that we would be staying in this hotel for a few more days. He wouldn't even let me go down to concierge to ask for a room change because he said, and I quote, "There are too many risks and it isn't worth being found over some minor discomfort. Adapt."

When he comes out of the bathroom I'm already lying on the floor, covered by a blanket feigning sleep.

My nightmares are relentless and indifferent to my begging for a break, if only while in Yassen's presence.

Tonight's dream is very cinematic. I hear harsh words that have been spoken to me, names I've been called, rumours of where I've been. I also hear someone being beat, a fist hitting flesh and a grunt following. Then I see faces, faces of all those who I have known and who have died.

Ian, Ash, my parents, Sarov, the security man from the hospital who was shot in the head before I was kidnapped. And Jack. My brain will never let me forget Jack.

The scene shifts, I'm looking through a window, watching as Sarov holds a gun to his head, says his final words and I watch as his fingers go tense on the trigger. I realize too late that I'm not looking through a window but a mirror. All I hear is a bullet casing clattering on the ground.

The boy is so stubborn, refusing to eat, not accepting drinks that I've been near (suspects me to poison him?), sleeping on the floor. Then again, shouldn't I have accepted no less from John's son? The man himself was ridiculously stubborn. A family trait.

I've acquired my four hours of necessary sleep and am blankly staring at the ciling when I know something is off. I lean over the side of the bed to find Alex in the midst of another awful nightmare. I'm seriously considering slipping him a little something so he can get some well needed, undisturbed rest.

I wait for it to pass, for him to calm down and sleep peacefully but he doesn't. His mumbling and thrashing continues and I can take his suffering no longer. I stretch an arm down and am totally off guard for the blow that follows.

Please review, I got a couple reviews on the last chap and look how quick I updated! J

I was lazy and didn't want to read through this so please point out if you notice any spelling or grammar issues.