Christian tried hard to get himself up into a sitting position, but the shackles on his feet and hands were effectively making him unable to do so. It seemed like an eternity since Quentin had locked him in there. Christian lost any sense of time. His torturer came round about once a day to bring him bread and water, and he undid his restraints so that he could move his legs a little.

Because light didn't really get into his confinement, Christian couldn't tell if it was day or night. It didn't matter anyhow, there wasn't anything he could do either way. He spent most of his time lying on the floor frapped together like a small parcel.

A coughing fit shook his upper body and he felt a prickling pain behind his sternum. He rolled into a ball shivering. It must've been night again, as at particular times of the day he always felt colder in the dark hall of the warehouse. Quentin apparently quietly hoped he would die all by himself. Either from thirst, hunger or because of a lung infection. Apart from an old woollen cover, Quentin left nothing else with him. He had to lie on the cold floor most of the time.

Another coughing fit engulfed him and Christian felt what a cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He tried to sit up again, because he knew that the blood flow of one of his legs was seriously hindered by the uncomfortable position he was in, but he fell right back weakly. He lay there helplessly and stared into the darkness.

Quentin left him alive so far, he didn't even hurt him once. Once, right at the beginning, he took some blood off him. When he asked him what he wanted with that, his abductor only smiled mysteriously and kept silent. Christian jerked when the iron gate moved up rattling and the room was filled with light.

Quentin stepped in and stood next to Christian with his legs apart, "somehow you remind me of a worm," he said with a big grin on his face. He put down a bowl of water and a plate with bread in front of Christian, "that should be enough for while," he said coldly, "I'll be away for a few hours and I'd like you to behave in an exemplary manner," he took a knife out of his cape and he cut though Christian's shackles, "now drink!" He pushed Christian's face into the cold water bowl and laughed.

Christian tried to oppose to Quentin's iron grip, but he was too weak. He finally raised his head up from the bowl sneezing and shook the water off his face.

"Oh, what a waste, "Quentin said playing regretful, "now you spilt it all."

"You...you bastard!" Christian said wheezing. He rebelled and spat in front of Quentin's feet using his last bit of energy.

Quentin's hand snapped forwards and formed iron claws around Christian's neck, "if I didn't still need you, I would exterminate you on the spot!" He said threateningly.

Christian struggled for air. He felt the blackness slowly encompass him, and he fought against the sensation of imminent blackout.

Quentin let him go just as suddenly as he grabbed him, "if everything goes according to plan, you shouldn't have to wait too long," he said calmly.

Christian lay in the corner dizzy and blinked. His forehead was bathing in a cold sweat again, mixed with the water drops that trickled down from his hair. He was tired, sick and incapable of getting up, "what...what do you intend to...do?" He managed to grind out.

Quentin smiled, "just a little more time and we'll get a visitor," Quentin answered enigmatically.

Christian lifted his head tiresomely, "who?"

"It will spoil the surprise if I tell you now. But because I know you also like games, I give you a puzzle to solve."

Christian's head fell back onto the floor. Interminable tiredness came over him quite suddenly. His eyes were burning and the drowsiness paled him. He was too shattered even to think. He had heard Quentin's words, but his mind couldn't take it in anymore. He gradually slipped into nothingness.

"Damn it!" Quentin made a step towards Christian and knelt down next to him onto the floor, "you can't play dead on me now. Do you hear me?" He frantically juggled the limp body, "you're a promising wimp, Christian!" He shouted.

Quentin reached for Christian's wrist hastily and checked his pulse. He concluded relieved that his hostage had lost consciousness and was not dead. But for how long? Apparently Christian Troy wasn't as resilient as he had previously thought. He had to think of something quickly that helped him recover again at once. He couldn't use him dead.

Quentin put his arms around the floppy body sighing and pulled him over to the other room. He hoisted Christian up to the bed and filled a syringe with something. He was a bit displeased with himself for not thinking ahead and obtaining at least some emergency medicinal supplies. On the other hand who would've thought that a crisis situation like this will occur.

Christian's body started to shake uncontrollably, whacking his head back and forth.

Quentin took his cell and dialled, "you have to get some drugs for me!" He said in the headset afterwards, "...yes, I know we agreed I'd only call in emergencies. This is an emergency!...Yes, it's a matter of life or death...write it down..." Quentin dictated the names of the required medicines to the person at the other end of the ether, "and hurry up, you hear me! I don't know how long can he go on like this..."

He switched his phone off sighing and looked over at Christian, who's whole body was still shuddering like a leaf. What an irony, Quentin thought. I have to save him now to be able to kill him later maybe-depending on how everything plans out.

He got a blanket from a cabinet and put it over Christian. After a last glance back he left the room.