Hi, everyone. I know it's been a while since I've updated this story. I'm really sorry about that. Hopefully what happens in this chapter kind of makes up for it. :)

Trigger warning for physical abuse.

After laying on the cold, hard floor for what felt like an eternity, Kendall could barely manage to keep his eyes open. No matter how hard he tried to fight off the tiredness making his vision blurry, his eyelids started to close by their own will, causing him to drift in and out of sleep. He wasn't sure how long he had been laying there, but he knew at least a couple of hours had to have passed since the last time his father had come in to "check up" on him. Not that he wanted him to check up on him. He would rather be anywhere else that wasn't in his father's presence.

The sound of the doorknob being unlocked is what pulled him out of his sleep completely. He started to raise his head but thought better of it and let it fall back down. Staring straight forward, the only thing that occupied his view as his father walked – or more like stumbled – into the room were his dark brown, dirt-stained boots.

Gripping to the wall for support, Kenneth slowly leaned towards Kendall, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pulled him to his feet.

For a moment, Kendall stumbled, almost taking his father down along with him. But as he regained his balance, the stench of liquor hit him. He scrunched up his nose in disgust but didn't dare to say a word.

"Ya think you're so much better than me, don't ya?" his father slurred, still clinging to Kendall's shirt. Without warning, he pushed Kendall towards the nearest wall, succeeding in knocking the air out of his lungs. "Just 'cause I went to jail 'cause of you bef're, doesn't mean you've won."

Kendall didn't say anything. After what had happened back at the motel, he knew better than to talk back to his father, especially when he was drunk. He had enough experience of his father being drunk and taking his anger out on him, both verbally and physically, to know that it wouldn't end well for him.

A deeper frown took over Kenneth's face, and before Kendall had time to question it, he was being thrown onto the ground, unable to catch his fall due to his wrists being tied together. He felt his right side make contact with the floor, hard. Fighting back a scream, he gasped for air and closed his eyes tightly, praying his father would just leave the room.

"Maybe that'll teach ya," his father said, and as if having read his mind, walked out of the room, the door clicking closed behind him.

It wasn't until a minute later that Kendall realized the sound of the door being locked hadn't followed it.

James felt like he couldn't breathe. Air was coming in and out of his lungs, but he still felt like he was suffocating. He gripped the chair's arms with both hands, his knuckles turning white with the force, and exhaled loudly, earning both Carlos' and Logan's attention.

"You okay?" Carlos asked, being the one closest to him.

James didn't answer right away. He only stared forward, unblinking, his hold on the chair's arms tightening.

"James?" Carlos reached for him, managing to grace his left hand with the tips of his fingers.

"What?" he asked, blinking up at Carlos. He pulled his hand away from Carlos' touch and towards his chest. He looked ashen.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked again, now that James seemed to have snapped himself out of whatever trance he seemed to be in.

James chewed on the inside of his cheek, his gaze turning to the ground. "Yeah," he said, more quietly than he intended for it to come out. "I'm fine."

Carlos wanted to question him further, but he nodded his head instead. He turned his attention towards Logan, who was watching James closely from where he sat next to Mrs. Knight's bed.

"Are you sure?" Logan finally asked, looking unconvinced. "Because if you want to talk—"

"I can't talk about it here," James said, cutting him off. He made sure to keep his voice low, fearing Mrs. Knight or Katie would hear, even in their sleep. "Maybe later, okay?"

Logan nodded where he sat. "Okay," he responded, leaning back against his chair. "But… we're here."

"I know," James said, finally turning to look at him. "Thank you. The same goes for the two of you."

The room settled into an uncomfortable silence, one that James desperately wanted to escape. As they waited for either Jennifer or Katie to wake up, he stared up at the ceiling, counting the silent ticks that came from the watch on his wrist.

When someone started to stir, it was Katie, who looked around the room, as if unsure of where she was at first. Her eyes then landed on James, and the look on her face took one of realization. It was as if she was remembering everything all over again, the cruel reality that they were facing finally landing on her.

Not knowing what to say, James reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. He wished the small action could take away her pain; make the anxiety running through her body vanish somehow. He knew that it wouldn't. He knew it would still be there, regardless of what he did or said, or of what anyone else did or said.

She squeezed his hand back, her grip feeling feeble. "Have they… Have they heard anything?" she asked. Even her voice sounded smaller than normal. She always seemed to be so sure of herself, so confident in a way none of them were. It was moments like this one in which James realized that she was just a child. A child with fears, insecurities, and now a sadness that he could not take away.

"Not yet," he said, looking down at the white bed sheets with little black dots that covered her. He couldn't look her in the eye. He had to keep himself together somehow.

"Oh." That was the only thing she said as she let go of his hand and pressed the palms of her hands to her face, trying to stifle the sob that soon followed.

"Katie…" Cautiously, Carlos reached out for her, as if he was afraid that Katie would break if he so much as touched her.

Shaking her head, Katie removed her hands from her face. "I'm okay," she said, but the hoarseness in her voice and tears in her eyes said otherwise.

"It's okay if you aren't," Logan gently said. He got up from his chair and walked the short distance to Katie's bed. Taking a seat on the very edge, next to her, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to his side. "No one expects you to be. Not after what's happened."

Katie dug her teeth into her bottom lip and shielded her face against Logan's red sweatshirt, breathing in sharply. "I miss him," she said, her voice sounding muffled against the soft fabric. "I miss him, and I'm scared."

Reaching out, James took a hold of her hand again, squeezing at it tightly. "We miss him, too," he said, brushing a stray tear away from his face with his other hand. "But he'll be back home soon. I know he will be."

Katie didn't say anything. She just held on to Logan tighter and squeezed James' hand back.

"Katie?"

The voice startled all four of them, causing them to turn in the direction of the bed on the other side of the room. Mrs. Knight was slowly sitting up, but seemed to be having trouble. Seeing this, Carlos moved to her side and helped her accommodate the hospital bed so that she was no longer lying flat on her back.

Turning back to Katie and James, Logan didn't miss the way James' body tensed at the sight of her.

"Katie, honey…"

"Mom." Sniffling, Katie detached herself from Logan and reached up with shaking hands to brush away the tears rolling down her face. She looked up at Logan, who then went to grab the wheelchair next to her bed and helped her onto it.

Once she was seated next to her mom's hospital bed, she threw an arm over her mom's chest, trying to hug her the best she could from her awkward position on the wheelchair.

"It's gonna be okay," her mom whispered as she wrapped an arm around her as well and kissed the top of her head.

From where they sat on the other side of the room, James and Logan watched, unsure of what to do. Seeming to be in a similar position, Carlos moved back to where the other two boys were.

"We'll give you guys some time," Logan said, before gesturing for James and Carlos to follow him out of the room.

"Are you sure leaving them is a good idea?" Carlos asked once the door had been closed.

"They need time alone," Logan said as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and continued to walk down the hospital hallway. "They've been through something traumatic. Something only the two of them will understand."

"And Kendall," James mumbled. His eyes were locked on the ground as he walked, his feet scraping against the tiled floor, as if he could barely carry his weight.

"And Kendall," Logan repeated with a sigh.

"I really hate this." As he said this, Carlos turned on his heels, causing the other boys to stop walking too. "Things were fine a week ago. We were recording songs for Gustavo, practicing for our next tour. Things were okay." His voice cracked on the last word, his hands balling into fists. "It's not fair."

Swallowing thickly, James moved forward, as if on autopilot, and wrapped both of his arms around Carlos, doing his best to keep his own tears from falling. "No, it's really not."

Kendall stayed frozen still. It was like everything had come to a screeching halt as he waited in complete silence for his father to realize his mistake and lock the door, preventing him from going anywhere. But when minutes passed by and he could no longer hear his father's footsteps or his voice or Trey's, he knew he couldn't just sit around until he decided to come back.

It was with shaking legs that he pulled himself to his feet, the small action causing a groan to slip past his lips as a sharp pain soared through his rib cage. He then pressed his ear against the wooden door, but there was definitely no noise coming from the other side. The cabin was completely silent.

He reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, fearing that if he made so much as a noise, his father or Trey would be alerted of his presence.

He could practically feel his heart in his throat as he stepped foot into the hallway, which was at the moment drenched in darkness. It only took him a few steps to reach the corner, where he could look out into the living room. To his surprise, only Trey was there, looking completely wasted and knocked out as he was stretched out across one of the couches, a glass bottle pressed against his chest.

He wasn't sure if his father not being there was a good thing or a bad thing, but he didn't wait to find out. He knew he had to leave. He had to escape. He would rather die trying to get away from there, than not try at all. He was sure that if he stayed there, he would end up dead anyway.

Tip-toeing his way past the living room, he only stopped as his eyes fell on an object on the couch across from where Trey was lying. He grabbed it, opened the door, and stepped foot outside the cabin.

Once he was sure the door had quietly clicked shut behind him, he ran and didn't look back.

He ran until he couldn't run anymore. Until his lungs felt like they were being engulfed by flames, and his face was littered with scratches from tree branches that he had to push aside on his way to get out of there.

When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he found himself on a deserted road. Pulling out the object he had grabbed from the couch, he cursed under his breath when he realized the phone had no signal and only had about twenty percent of battery.

Looking back once again, to make sure he wasn't being followed, he continued to run down the road. He was starting to feel nauseous and light-headed, but he knew he couldn't stop – not after getting this far.

The sound of a car suddenly heading in his direction caused him to stop in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. He whipped his head around, afraid that the person behind the wheel would be his father, but when he realized the vehicle approaching him was a small, worn-down black car, he sighed in relief.

He wanted to cry.

The person behind the wheel was a middle-aged woman with wavy brown hair, light brown skin, and round sunglasses. As her car came to a stop next to him, she lowered the window and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" she asked, looking him over. Once she really took a good look at him, her eyes grew wide. "Are you–Are you Kendall Knight?"

Not being able to find his voice, Kendall nodded, his eyes looking frantically from her to the woods from where he had escaped.

"I need… I need to get out of here," he said finally, his throat feeling tight. "Please."

Reaching over, the woman unlocked the passenger's door of her car and pushed it open slightly, gesturing for him to climb inside.

It wasn't until he was seated inside and the car had sped away, that he felt like he could finally breathe.

"My name's Patricia," the woman said, keeping her eyes on the road.

"K-Kendall," Kendall said, even though he knew the woman already knew who he was.

The woman – Patricia – gave him a small, faint smile. "I know. I have a daughter. She's fifteen years old, and she loves Big Time Rush."

Kendall wasn't really sure what to say to that. Usually, a comment like that would make him happy, but right now, all he felt was a mixture of relief and fear.

"I'm sorry for prying, but… what happened to your face? And why are your hands tied?" Patricia asked, gesturing to his hands. "Did somebody hurt you?"

Kendall didn't answer right away. He stared down at his hands, which were on his lap, shaking uncomfortably. He tried to squeeze them into fists, to seize the shaking, but it didn't do much.

"I was kidnapped," he said, not looking up to see her reaction. "The person who kidnapped me… he hurt me."

He heard her suck in a breath. "Are you hurt badly?" she asked. "I can take you to a hospital. We're not close to one right now, but I can take you."

"Where even are we?" he asked, dodging her question.

Patricia frowned. "Goodsprings, Nevada."

"Goodsprings?" he asked, his voice shaking. "How far is that from Los Angeles?"

She shrugged. "About three hours, more or less."

Kendall shook his head from side to side. "Can you please just drop me off at a bus station or something? I need to get back home."

"Kendall, I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure you're in no state to be out on your own, especially if you're running away from someone," Patricia told him. "Let me take you to the hospital, or to a police station, at the very least."

"I want to be with my friends," he said, his vision blurring. And my family, he wanted to add, but he was sure he wouldn't get to see his mom or Katie anytime soon, considering what his father had told him.

"Okay, how about this, I'll take you to Los Angeles or wherever your friends are."

"What? No, it's too far—"

"I have the day off. I have time."

"But—"

"I am not leaving you at a bus station by yourself," she said in a firmer tone. "Please, let me help you."

Seeing as she wasn't going to give up anytime soon, he nodded his head. "O-Okay. Thank you. Really, I don't know how to thank you."

"It's no problem." Patricia gave him a warm smile and removed her right hand from the steering wheel to give his hand a light squeeze. She then pulled her phone out from inside her purse and showed it to him. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call for you?"

Nodding his head, he relayed the first number he could think of and watched as she dialed it and put the phone on speaker. He waited in anticipation as it rang once, twice, then three times, before another voice came from the other end.

"Hello?"

Unable to blink away the tears in his eyes, Kendall sucked in a breath. "Hey. It's… It's Kendall."

So… that happened.

I hope this didn't seem too rushed. It might seem like Kendall's out of the woods (literally, lol), but he still has a lot coming his way, unfortunately. Let's just say there's a lot of Kendall angst to look forward to. ;) I'll try my best to get another chapter posted this month.

Thank you so much for the support in this story. I really, really appreciate it. :)

~ BigTimeRush-BTR :)