A/N: So I decided to update. If you follow my Wattpad, you know I was conflicted if I should put this story on hiatus. There was a tragedy at my school, and I didn't know if continuing this at the moment would be in good taste since this story is very violent. This chapter, in particular, is pretty violent. However, I consulted people in my offline life. They said they think it would be okay to continue this. The story doesn't glorify violence. So enough about my personal life. Let's get going.
Tim lifted the Eevee into his arms. The effects of the drugs had finally started to wear off. His ankle was still aching. He needed to get out before the wound gets infected. "Come on, Eevee," Tim said. "Let's go."
He stumbled to the door. He slowly opened the door. He saw the silhouette nearby. That's when he spotted a metal bat. The Eevee crawled onto his shoulder. Tim picked up the bat and walked behind Christopher.
Tim hit the silhouette in the back of the head. It collapsed to the ground. That's when Tim noticed that it was a mannequin. A hand wrapped around his neck and slammed him onto the table. Eevee jumped onto the table.
Tim clawed at the hand around his neck. It was squeezing hard, but not hard enough to choke him. The other hand began to slam into his face. His nose was shattered within moments. He was wearing wrings that would cut his face. His face was covered in blood within seconds.
Christopher cut Tim's shirt off with a knife. Christopher lifted a branding iron. "No," Tim stuttered.
"Took your father longer to crack," Christopher scoffed. He slammed the iron into his side. Tim groaned in agony. The iron sizzled into his skin. Tim's groaned again as the iron was ripped away. If he got out of this alive, he'd be reminded of it every time he took a shower now.
His hands were cuffed behind him. Tim slumped onto the side. "Eevee," the pokemon shouted. A photo was snapped of the scene.
Harry refused to let Gertrude see the photo. He was afraid her old heart would handle it. She had already been through so much in her life. She was a tough woman though. She had been widowed when Tamara was young. She raised two kids at different points in her life whilst running a farm. However, he was scared this would send her into something she could never come back from.
Upon another glance, Harry recognized the place. He had been there many times. It was at the detective camp. He had been to the bunker for classes a few times. He now had a place where. He now needed a plan.