A/N: It's finally time to check in on Kendall! This chapter isn't meant to give away too many answers, so you still should be pretty confused at the end. But don't worry, everything will be revealed in time. This chapter is where the story gets its T rating. It's not quite that halfway point I mentioned earlier, but it's still pretty intense. Please note the warnings below. Thank you so much to all who read and reviewed the last chapter! :D Also, I apologize in advance for any type-os... I think there may be a few. Just ignore them.

Warnings: Violence, references to violence, angst, language.


Chapter 12
Silence

Kendall's eyes snapped open.

A low, guttural groan radiated from the back of his throat as he struggled to clear his vision. For several moments he saw double. The two doors in front of him appeared as hazy silhouettes, outlined in fuzzy blurs. Kendall blinked. Slowly, the doors morphed into one; the single barrier which separated him from his captors.

He let out a deep breath of air, swallowing back acrid bile in his throat. For the past half hour, he had been drifting in and out of sleep. Or maybe consciousness. He wasn't sure. As time sluggishly passed, he found it increasingly difficult to stay awake. His tired eyes and body craved a decent repose, and they were taking it by force—whether Kendall liked it or not.

He exhaled a long, pained sigh. All his joints burned and ached. He desperately wished to shift positions; maybe sit up a bit straighter. But doing so required movement, and any sort of repositioning sent a wave of prickly tingles plaguing the lower half of his body—a pins and needles feeling that would soon break his sanity. The fixed restraints on his ankles were cutting off his blood circulation, leaving his feet numb.

He sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, arms firmly behind him with more ropes tied agonizingly tight around his wrists. His chin nearly touched his chest, as he was too exhausted to lift his head from its slumped position. Moist, sticky hair matted to his scalp from blood and sweat. It itched, but Kendall couldn't do a thing about it.

He needed water. And food. Badly.

But he wouldn't ask for it. No. He'd rather die than beg those freaks to keep him alive.

Kendall coughed weakly. The action felt like sandpaper grinding against his raw throat, and he winced. He was completely lost to time, unsure of how long he'd been this humid, musty-smelling room. A day, maybe two.

He refused to speak to the men doing this. He wouldn't ask them to loosen the ropes, wouldn't ask for anything to eat, and definitely wouldn't ask for anything to drink. That's what they wanted him to do. To ask, to beg.

Hah. Yeah right.

Surely about to go stir-crazy, Kendall knew he would need to chance a minor relocation. The pain would be worth it if any amount of pressure was eased from his fatigued muscles.

"Ah!" he hissed, attempting to lift his heavy head. His breath hitched in his throat. The dirty plaid shirt covering his torso was soaked in hot sweat from his endeavors. Determined, Kendall set his jaw, clenched his teeth, and bit back a moan of pain.

His exceedingly stiff neck and shoulders caused nearly insufferable pain. They creaked and clicked, bones making sickening pops. He groaned. Whimpered. Gasped. Finally managed to scoot up in his seat. He even arched his back slightly.

It was a glorious feat, and despite how uncomfortable he continued to feel, Kendall mentally congratulated himself on his victory. With his body a bit more vertical than it had been previously, blood came rushing to his head. For a moment he wavered, fearing he would topple over in his chair. His vision faded to black, so he squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the sensation. When the wave of nausea passed him and the pressure in his ears lessened, more aches and pains made themselves present on Kendall's body. The tender skin around his right eye began to throb.

After spending eight hours in a car with a burlap sack over his head and string binding his wrists, he was forcibly dragged into the building. Kendall was fuming, insisting the men keep their disgusting hands off him. It angered one of the guys, a short, spiky-haired thug named Jace, and Kendall became a human punching bag for a couple hours. The right side of his face took the worse beating. Any sort of facial expression aside from the impassive one he had been sporting for some ungodly amount of time pained him greatly; his taut skin was swollen and bruised deeply. The rusty taste on his lips told him it was split open, and his stomach still ached from a particularly powerful blow to his abdomen.

The knob on the door before him began to twist. Kendall's heart skipped a beat, and he braced himself. The door opening was something he feared, because it meant one of two people were about to reveal themselves: Rodney or Jace, his two captors.

In this case, it was a tall, strong-looking man. Thick, wavy brown hair, square jaw, broad forehead, grey eyes and biceps larger than Kendall's head in circumference. Rodney.

It was a relief. Rodney intimidated Kendall for sure, but he was much more wary of Jace.

Not that Kendall would let them know it.

Rodney stepped into the large room, shutting the door gently behind him. Kendall forced himself to look the man in the eye, narrowing his gaze into a dark glower. Rodney crossed his brawny arms over his chest and stared at Kendall in silence. Kendall shifted uneasily in the man's scrutiny.

If Rodney was trying to look threatening, it was working.

But only a few seconds later, the man turned. He strode to the far right corner of the dimly-lit room where a plastic, five-gallon bucket waited. With an irritated grunt, the man grabbed the bucket by its handle and returned to Kendall. He dropped the pail with a noisy clatter several feet in front of the teen.

"Piss break," Rodney muttered. He stuck a hand in his back pocket and revealed a shiny, silver switchblade. Kendall involuntarily shuddered as Rodney moved behind him, out of sight. With a jerk of the man's hand, the rope wrapped around Kendall's wrists broke with a snap. His arms slumped flaccidly at his sides. A blissful exhale of relief burst from his lungs as he decided the release of pressure on his wrists was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

The dreaded pins and needles feeling immediately crept up Kendall's arms as blood began pumping, but it wasn't hardly horrible enough to hinder his gratification. Rodney slowly shuffled back in Kendall's field of vision, and Kendall knew he was being allowed a few moments to flex and stretch. It was one of the reasons he favored Rodney over Jace. If Jace were the one handling the situation, Kendall would have been yanked up on his feet already.

But Kendall's arms were limp and dead. When he attempted to lift them, they shook and quivered from lack of use. Distressing twinges rocketed through his muscles.

His cheeks tinged pink. This was so humiliating.

"Okay, let's go," grumbled Rodney. He placed his hands underneath Kendall's arms and pulled upwards, aiding Kendall to stand. Kendall's ankles were still fastened together, so Rodney kept a firm grip on the blond's upper arm, holding the exhausted boy upright.

Kendall tottered and gasped, the sudden rush of blood once again causing him lightheadedness. His knees buckled under his own weight, but Rodney prevented him from collapsing. Kendall blinked, fighting off temporary blindness.

He'd been given about four bathroom breaks since he'd been tied to his chair. Each time the same procedure was followed. Rodney would enter from the mysterious door, cut the ropes on Kendall's hands, and help him stand. A bucket was placed in front of him, where Kendall was supposed to do his business. Rodney kept his hands on Kendall at all times, ensuring he wouldn't try to escape. But Kendall knew that even if he was strong enough to attempt a getaway, he wouldn't. There was too much at risk.

Kendall got his bearings a few moments later, and with shaking hands, reached down to undo his belt. Rodney moved his hands from under Kendall's arms to just above his waist. Kendall had to resist the urge to break away and shrug off the uncomfortable touch.

His sweaty fingers slipped as he attempted to work the clasp. His rosy cheeks burned from seething rage and mortification. Never in his life had be been so vulnerable, so powerless. He detested the thought of anyone seeing him like this.

He continued to fumble with his belt, a mixture of anger and nerves boiling inside of him as he did so. Perspiration poured into his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly in order to fight away the salty stinging. The room had to be eighty-five degrees. And it probably didn't help that he was anxious and jittery, Rodney's hands were on him, he couldn't undo his stupid belt buckle, his throat was so dry he could barely swallow, and the constant fear Jace or Rodney would harm his friends was swallowing his brain and making his heart thud even faster in panic…

Finally, the belt buckle came loose. His hands trembled even more violently as he groped for the button and zipper on his jeans. The first time his bathroom break came around, his greatest fear was relieving himself while Rodney held his waist and waited. "It's either the bucket or your pants, kid," Rodney had told him. So, Kendall eventually chose the former.

He awkwardly pushed down his jeans and boxers, doing his best to position himself over the bucket. Rodney turned his head away, like he always did, muttering curses. Kendall only hoped it was because it was the man's least favorite part of his job.

Kendall didn't even have to go; he'd sweated out anything that could have been in his bladder, anyway. It took him nearly a minute to relax himself enough to try. He kept his gaze low, away from the man beside him, using every bit of willpower he could possibly muster to battle his fury. Regardless of his current state, Kendall knew if Rodney opened his mouth to say anything, Kendall would be letting his fists fly. He couldn't hold it back anymore. He was sick and tired of these jerks degrading him and threatening him and hurting him. Though, a punch from Kendall would probably feel like getting hit by a pillow. He wasn't strong enough to do any damage. Attempting to harm his captor would only make things worse. He needed to stay calm and obedient for the sake of his friends.

Truth be told, Kendall had not yet discovered the exact reason why he was here. Rodney and Jace informed him of nothing. They had cornered him in the restroom at Fun Burger and held a gun to his chest, then thrust a manila envelope in his hands and told Kendall to go home and read it. And if he said a word to anyone, Jace would personally end the life of a member of Big Time Rush.

To say he was confused was a dramatic understatement. That night, Kendall located a letter of instructions within the jumble of photographs he'd discovered tucked inside the envelope. The note told him to be meet at the front of the Palm Woods at midnight. The penalty for disobeying was the death of one of the people in the photographs.

Were they serious, or not? Kendall couldn't be sure. And he wasn't going to risk it.

At least by not knowing the reason why he was here, Kendall had something to pass the time. Sitting alone in silence all day took a toll on him mentally, and he quickly realized he needed to keep his mind occupied. He had many theories about why the two guys wanted him, but mainly considered one: money.

The first few hours he was tied to the chair (and after Jace beat him up), the spiky-haired man strode into the room with a digital camera in hand, told Kendall to look up, and snapped a few pictures. So for all Kendall knew, his face was being shown on every news screen across America as his captors demanded a large sum of money for his safe return. And because Big Time Rush was slowly climbing their way up the fame ladder, it was probably a hefty amount. But why Kendall? Because he was the so-called leader of the group? Or because he just happened to use the bathroom at Fun Burger alone? He had no idea.

The only downside to guessing his reasons for captivity were the thoughts of his friends that relentlessly invaded his mind. He wondered if Jace and Rodney were keeping their word and not harming anyone. Going with those guys was a huge risk, Kendall knew, but if he would have stayed and called the police and something would have happened to either James, Carlos or Logan, Kendall wouldn't have been able to live with himself.

When Kendall was finished using the bucket, he reached down to pull up his jeans. His wobbly legs nearly gave out again, and Rodney had to catch him.

Another wave of heat washed over his already blushing skin. Kendall refastened his belt, and Rodney removed his hands, letting Kendall stand on his own.

"Sit."

The thought of once again sitting in the uncomfortable chair nearly made him scream. Biting the inside of his cheek to take some focus off the pain, Kendall pushed his creaky arms forward and cracked his knuckles, getting in one last stretch before he was forced to wait again for hours.

Suddenly impatient, Rodney used a strong hand to give Kendall a shove. He lost his balance, as expected, and flopped down into the chair. Kendall tensed, fist twitching with desire to harm.

Rodney dug out a large section of rope from his pockets and moved behind Kendall's chair. He yanked Kendall's arms backwards, causing the boy to let out a small cry of both pain and surprise. Kendall didn't struggle, and the ropes were tied around his hands with ease.

His captor stood, made a face, and grabbed the handle of the bucket. He walked back to the corner of the room and set it on the ground. Without further acknowledgement, he reached the door and disappeared behind it, once again leaving Kendall in solitude.

The silence. That was another thing Kendall hated. He was just starting to get used to the hustle and bustle of the city of Los Angeles, and there sure was never a quiet day with James, Carlos and Logan around. The stillness of the room was unfamiliar.

So, sometimes, he would hum Big Time Rush songs. Never too loud, because he didn't want Jace or Rodney to hear him and get mad. Unfortunately, his throat was too scratchy and sore, and any more use of his vocal cords than necessary would only make it worse. He desperately needed something to quench his thirst.

Kendall sighed.

His neck was feeling a little less stiff, so he took the opportunity to gaze around the room. Nothing had changed. It was still a very large, empty, ridiculously muggy room. With lackadaisical eyes he peered down at the smooth, concrete floor, then up at the many rows of lights, half of which were burnt out and black. He knew that behind him the wall was one big, white door. Probably used by trucks, like a loading dock. Also behind him, in the far right corner of the giant room, was a smaller, normal door. That was the door he had entered from, so he knew it led outside.

The wall to his right was primarily barren, except for several graffiti drawings and a few random strips of plastic that hung like curtains from duct tape. The wall to the left, however, was lined with old wooden shelves, stocked only with cobwebs and thick layers of dust.

High to his right and high to his left were rows of grimy, cracked windows. Kendall could see nothing beyond the foggy glass with exception of the sky, which may have been the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He had yet to witness one cloud mar the boundless blue, and he found his heartbeat quickening with every upwards glance in fear a grey puff would be staring back at him in place of the current splendor.

Roughly twenty feet in front of him was the door which Rodney and Jace resided behind when they weren't in the same room as Kendall. He hadn't a clue where the door led; all Kendall knew was that his pulse quickened every time it opened.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. All in distressing stillness.

Kendall shivered for a reason he could not understand. His body was practically on fire. He could feel beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck and the sides of his face. His head was heavy on his shoulders, and the familiar urge to vomit began to take root.

He pondered back to the time Hawk, Gustavo's rival, had kidnapped Kendall, Carlos, James and Logan in hopes the friends would miss their first concert. Though, Hawk and his assistant had made it clear that as soon as the Big Time Rush fans abandoned the concert, he would free them.

So, Kendall did have some experience being tied to a chair. However, when he was with Hawk, the guys were restrained for all of ten minutes before Carlos the Unnamed Superhero toppled down a flight of stairs and ultimately freed them. Not to mention Hawk told them that he wasn't going to harm the boys, just keep them out of sight until the crowd dispersed.

A sudden pang of emotion flared in Kendall's chest. His friends and family thought he had ran away and abandoned them. No one was looking for him. The guys were probably devastated and hurt, and if Kendall ever got out of this alive, they would never forgive him.

Kendall scolded himself for getting so emotional. He knew what he was getting into when he left the apartment. His friends, mother and sister may be shattered, but it was worth it, whether they knew it or not.

Without warning, the door in front of Kendall opened. Another shiver racked through his body. He could feel his legs tremble, and for a moment was actually glad for the ropes around his ankles. Because the man who stood at the door was the man he feared the most.

Jace was short, compared to Rodney. His stature was similar to Logan's—small, but deceivingly strong. His arms, covered in dark tattoos, were shown off by a sleeveless t-shirt. A pencil-thin scar cut across the right side of his face and disappeared into his dark-blond hair, which was about the same length as James's, but jutted up in soft, messy spikes.

Jace tossed a bottle of water at Kendall. Kendall tensed as it bounced off his lap and rolled onto the floor. He glared, narrowing his eyes in the most threatening, vicious way he could manage.

"Thirsty?" asked Jace. "There you go."

Kendall set his jaw, fuming. He said nothing.

Jace took a step forward, holding out his arms with a patronizing smirk. "I'll pick it up for you."

Silence.

"All you gotta do is ask," the man said.

Kendall's green eyes bore hard into his dark ones.

"I'll untie your hands and let you have it. Even serve it on a silver platter, if you want." Jace smiled insolently, the corners of his mouth raising like they were being tugged by a string. "But first, I wanna hear you tell me you want it." He paused, waiting to get a reaction out of the boy seated in the chair. When he didn't get one, he continued. "And you got about five minutes to convince me. I'm expecting a phone call."

Kendall couldn't bite his tongue any longer. He ignored the twinges in his face and offered a smug grin, finding enjoyment from picturing Jace's reaction to his words. "If you want me to beg," he started, voice hoarse and gravelly from disuse, "then how about you untie my feet so I can get on my hands and knees? I can shine your shoes while I'm at it. Just say the word, boss."

Jaces's eyes flashed. In only seconds he was roaring and lunging forward, clenching a fistful of Kendall's hair and yanking his head backwards. "You really wanna beg, blondie?" he growled. The click of a switchblade was heard, and Kendall managed a strangled gasp before something cold and sharp was pressing against the underside of his chin. "Lemme hear it."

Kendall smirked. "Make me."

The tip of the blade punctured his skin, causing his body to twitch from the poke. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified.

Jace tightened his hold on Kendall's hair. His voice was low and menacing, breath ghosting over Kendall's ear. "You're going to die. Unless I kill you first, you're going to dehydrate yourself. You'll waste away into nothing, right here on this chair. Then you'll never get to go home."

A warm stream of blood trickled down his neck as the knife was pushed harder against the wound. Kendall answered in a mumble, trying to make his mouth move as little as possible to prevent more damage. "What does it matter? You're not going to let me go home, anyway." Kendall hissed in pain, tensing in anticipation for Jace to either finish the job or pull back.

The man finally released his hold on Kendall's hair and stood erect, pocketing his weapon. "You never know, kid." He cracked his knuckles. "So I suggest you stop acting like a smartass and start using the magic word."

Before Kendall could even comprehend what was about to happen, Jace curled his hand into a fist and made contact to Kendall's jaw.

Kendall swallowed a cry of pain as his head snapped to the side. His eyes screwed shut, momentarily stunned. In his shock his mouth hung open, blood and saliva dripping onto the front of his shirt. He finally sputtered and looked up, meeting his captor's eyes. He almost considered sucking up his pride and asking for a drink, but shrugged the idea away as quickly as it came. He still had some dignity.

Jace smiled haughtily, shaking the sting from his hand. He approached the water bottle laying neglected on the floor and picked it up. He slowly twisted open the cap and took a long drink. He even licked his lips when he was finished. "No?" he asked, holding the bottle out to Kendall.

Kendall glared coldly. He remained mute.

Jace set the bottle on the ground by his feet. He advanced towards Kendall casually, as if taking a leisurely stroll. Kendall watched him intently, feeling his heart thud in his ears. He hoped Jace didn't notice him trembling.

The man knelt in front of him. "I've been told not to tell you this," he said, voice dark and flat. "But you were right. You're not going home."

Kendall tensed.

"As soon as my boss gets here," he made his thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun and aimed at Kendall's head, "you're dead." He made a popping sound with his mouth, indicating a gunshot.

Kendall spat.

He had been collecting saliva in his mouth since Jace punched him, but even so, it was a minimal quantity. The pink liquid missed it's target—the freak's face—and instead struck the front of Jace's shirt.

The man shouted and jumped to his feet, looking disgustedly at his front. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, seizing Kendall's hair once again. Kendall yelped as Jace readied himself to throw a punch to his bruised face.

A cell phone ringing cut him off.

Jace froze immediately, panting hard. A thick vein throbbed on his temple, his teeth were gritted together in pure malice. Kendall couldn't look at him; he was too afraid.

The phone rang again.

With a hard shove Kendall was released, and he let out a breath of air he had been holding. Jace dug his phone from his pocket on its fourth ring. He pressed it to his ear as he disappeared behind the door, taking the bottle of water with him.

Silence once again.

Kendall moaned and let his body slouch back to its original position; head limply slumped forward, eyes closed. He almost cried. Almost. Because how the heck was crying going to help his hapless situation?

Well, it wasn't. So why bother?

He sobbed. Only once. A tiny, pathetic noise, barely audible. Then he held his breath, hoping if he did so, no more cries of emotion could tear from his aching throat.

He was hot. Tired. Sore in places he didn't even know existed. Embarrassed. Thirsty. Hungry. More frightened and uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life. And not just scared for his own life, but for Carlos, Logan, and James.

What difference did it make if he cried, anyway? He was going to die with his friends and family thinking he willingly walked out and abandoned them. He was alone. He had no one to be strong for anymore.

He just needed to know if they were safe. After all, he had did this for them. He'd do anything for them. Brothers need to protect each other.

Then, thoughts drifted to his mother. His stomach hurt just thinking of how worried she must be. And Katie. For some reason he could only picture Katie as a three-year-old, when her world was full of beginnings and innocence and warmth. He remembered when her life's ambition was to be a princess who threw the best tea parties for her stuffed animal friends. She'd wear her little pink dresses, with little pink ribbons weaved in her hair, two little pink circles painted on her cheeks from her little pink makeup kit, and pour imaginary tea into her little pink cups. Sometimes she'd ask him if he thought she was pretty, and every time he would wipe away the paint and tell her she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Then online poker and the Asian stock market got the best of her, and she cast off her pink trinkets the day she learned how to win five-card stud.

Did Katie even need him anymore? Would his absence really leave that much of an impact on her? After all, she had three other brothers to look after her.

No. No, he had to get home somehow. His mother needed him. Katie needed him. The guys needed him. And what about Jo…?

Giving up was the only thing he remained in control of. He had the power to make that decision. He could submit himself to Rodney and Jace and accept the fact he was going to die here tired to the this stupid chair, or he could keep fighting and maybe—somehow—find a way out.

Jace and Rodney wanted him to abandon all hope. And he wasn't going to grant them that satisfaction.

Minutes later, the doorknob twisted and the two men both stepped into the room. Kendall looked up, all evidence of his previous moment of weakness gone.

Rodney crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door while Jace approached Kendall. The spiky-haired man began to pace the floor. "That was my boss on the phone," he reported.

Kendall swallowed. He had a strong feeling he didn't want to meet the mysterious third guy.

"He's almost here. Then things are gonna get a bit more interesting for you."

Kendall straightened up. "I don't care," he rasped. "As long as you hold up on your end of the deal."

Jace looked at Rodney, who merely raised his eyebrows, then turned back to face Kendall. A devilish smirk curved his lips as he spoke. "Don't worry, blondie. As long as you cooperate and nothing goes wrong, your friends will be just fine."